Author Archives: L.

Nov 14 2011
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Music Reviews

Evanescence – Evanescence

Get the eyeliner, Evanescence is back! Complete with album-art that suspiciously resembles your computer’s ‘Gothic EP’ template! Adjectives like operatic, classical, melodramatic and, uh, evanescent come cheap with Evanescence albums, and Evanescence is no exception: the Amy Lee Show is anything if not consistent. Of course, it is still all about Lee – her voice dominates every track, and not without good reason: she’s a powerhouse, the generator that keeps this band running, and the reason they have a tough time writing a bad album.

Evanescence’s problems don’t stem from a lack of talent, but of progression. The replacement of every original member (save Lee) means that Moody remains gone, resulting in another hour of samey songs about sadness (“My Heart is Broken”, “New Way to Bleed”), chalk-full of power-chords and (occasionally fantastic) twinkling piano keys and strings, but devoid of the collaborative creative energy that once resulted in sevenfold-platinum status and two Grammys. “What You Want” is an impressive bit of pop (with a jogging-themed video), and Evanescence has again triangulated their target audience, but there’s nothing particularly surprising here. Get a new band, Amy.

B

Man am I tired of typing Evanescence over and over. 

Originally published right here, November 2011.

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Nov 13 2011
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Music Reviews

David Lynch – Crazy Clown Time

David Lynch is notorious for two things: disjointed, fascinating filmic narrative, and a commitment to Surrealism that borders on madness. This is the man that brought us Eraserhead and Twin Peaks after all – and like Twin Peaks’ nonsensical, borderline-unintelligible finale, the concept of David Lynch producing popular music is hurtful and confusing. Not one to disappoint, Lynch’s Crazy Clown Time is a nightmare kaleidoscope of blues and electric pop that will weird the hell out of you. I’m sure he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Crazy Clown Time starts strong, with Karen O. wailing her way through the gothic highlight “Pinky’s Dream“, evoking Siouxsie and the Banshees and immediately immersing the listener into Lynch’s trademark claustrophobic atmosphere and dense (when not outright suffocating) production. From there, the album is led by Lynch himself, alternately singing and speaking in his reedy, heavily-processed voice over blues guitars and droning synths – though from the success of “Pinky’s Dream”, one can’t help but wish he’d chosen to do more collaboration.

Crazy Clown Time does succeed, however, in getting much, much more bizarre. “Strange and Unproductive Thinking” breaches spoken-word poetry, as Lynch spends seven minutes attempting to articulate a sort of transcendentalist philosophy.. and ends up talking about trees and oral hygiene. “Crazy Clown Time” itself seems to be the first-person narrative of a person at a twisted sort party, with the narrator repeating himself (drunkenly? through the eyes of a disturbed, spectating child?) as he stumbles over supremely disturbing descriptions of women covered in beer and someone named Buddy “scream[ing] so loud he spit”. All of this is also performed in a voice like a distorted Mickey Mouse, while back-masked instrumentals and the odd squeal or scream echo lazily past. Yes, this album is just as depressing and disturbing as anyone would expect from the man that gave us Rabbits.

Despite being generally depressing and occasionally terrifying, Crazy Clown Time is a fascinating album, given to lyrics and instrumentals that suggest the blues, but which combines these elements with a stifling rhythmic atmosphere (both in production and lyricism) that pushes his work firmly into synth-pop territory. When the album hits its stride, the results are surprisingly effective: “The Night Bell with Lightning” is perfectly atmospheric in a way that recalls the greatest lonely melodies of the Twin Peaks soundtrack, while “Stone’s Gone Up” even provides enough of a consistent backbeat and chorus to prove danceable – provided you don’t mind the whisperings in the background.

Crazy Clown Time is not a bad album: it just happens to be a deeply strange one, produced by a deeply strange artist. David Lynch admirers will likely love these half-constructed narratives and poetic ramblings, but anyone unfamiliar with his work, or unwilling to make the artistic commitment, might find the musical leap of faith a little yawning.

B-

Originally written right here, and then later published in The Peak, November 2011.

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Nov 13 2011
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Music Reviews

The Misfits – The Devil’s Rain

In 1977 Glenn Danzig combined some buddies, an imagination fuelled on horror-movies and comics, and a penchant for writing brutally catchy punk/metal music to form The Misfits, the original Horrorpunk band. Six years later, he dissolved the group, leaving an enormous impact on metal music – and his fans to deal with the fallout. Danzig brought authenticity and brutality to his pop-soaked horror-imagery, approaching his subject matter with a seriousness and starkness that the revived band’s revolving-door of singers has perpetually struggled to resurrect ever since. On The Devil’s Rain, as on every release since The Misfits’ comeback in 1997, we’re dealing with a very different band.

Original bassist Jerry Only writes the lyrics now, and since 2003’s surprisingly successful 50’s cover album Project 1950 he’s been in charge of vocals as well. This doesn’t necessarily spell doom for the band: while he lacks the charisma and force of Danzig’s Elvis-wail or even the latter (teenage!) Michael Grave’s energy, Only’s voice is serviceable: somewhere between a shout and a croon, honed over decades of backup singing, though TheMisfits clearly suffers without its trademark vocal frenzy. Only is aware of his success on Project 1950, and it shows in his affinity for sustained harmonies and song-structures that hew remarkably closely to their Project 1950 precursors (of which the extremely pop-y “Monkey’s Paw” ends up a standout track). When his vocals hit their mark, Only’s only major problem (and by extension that of the band) is a lack of ingenuity: at best The Devil’s Rain chugs along consistently, a fine companion to that post-Hallowe’en party of yours. At its worst, whichever songs don’t repeat themselves ad nauseum (“It’s cold in hell!” x 18), sound nearly identical, and not in a “well-alright-it-is-Punk” way, but as more of a “oh-right-these-guys-play-in-Osaka-Popstar” variety of boggling tempo and chord repetition.

Then again, there’s a solid chance none of this will bother you: anyone exclusively a post-formation Misfits fan is likely to find more than enough to enjoy here (and can probably increase that score a little). Only takes more joy in playing with classic horror tropes than he  does getting all worked up and angry, and that’s perfectly alright – the result is simply a lukewarm band more suited to playing over Hallowe’en barbecues than mosh pits.

C+

Originally published in The Peak, November 2011. 

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