By David Boffa
Hat on, Drinking Wine
This folk-rock trio gets its name from a Van Morrison lyric that seventies rock critic Lester Bangs insisted referred to a drag queen, though Morrison has denied it. The subject of the song is unimportant as Drinking Wine earns their inspiration from the song’s instrumental structure: flute and string leads harmonize delicately over three chords while Morrison’s stream-of-consciousness lyrics spin a (misinterpreted) tale of spirituality. On Drinking Wine’s studio tracks, the whimsy of Morrison’s songwriting is reflected in similarly quaint instrumentation. Bluesy guitar leads and electric piano notes accompany acoustic strums on “Haley’s Comet,” with a noticeable exclusion of drums. The lyrics are more cerebral: “Jackie” drops references to a 1915 T.S. Eliot poem purported to be about sexual frustration, though this is up for debate. Again, whether that’s true is not essential; the tune could benefit from the inclusion of a rhythm section — a benefit that soon to be gained as Drinking Wine is trying out a line-up with a bassist and drummer. Say goodbye to Madame George and stay tuned; good things are about to happen.
Beware the “Ides”
“You wanna see bad ass, mother fucker,” the opening sample to “Irish” implores the listener, and, unwittingly, says everything about the ensuing metal-thrash-up-your-ass onslaught that is Ides of March. Not that anything needs saying about a band that lists Jagermeister as an influence and insists they sound like “your ears were fucked by a screw driver,” just bet on speedy distorto-guitar onslaughts and double bass-drum-driven breakdowns for easy money. Ornery guitars rip shit up during the bone-crunching chorus of “Pastive” before drifting off into palm-muted power-chord mayhem. Bringing heavy back with an exclamation point, vocalist Swede growls about drawing lines in the sand and “wiping it off with blood on my hands” and reminds us that you “can’t kill what never dies.” A brutal display or Worcester metal at its best, but beware, your body and soul might be damaged.
Marykate O’Neil
Marykate O’Neil, an indie-pop singer/songwriter, grew up in Hudson, went to college in Boston, and then moved to Brooklyn, N.Y. in 1999, or, as she puts it, “right before the world was going to end according to Prince.” Due out October 28, her latest EP, mk-ULTRA, is a bittersweet voyage in both soul searching and cynicism: the yearnings for a long lost friendship on “Green St.” are soon traded for boozy morning-after recollections of a cough medicine and ecstasy binge on “Trouble.” Moods turn even darker during a cover of Jill Sobule’s “Happy.” A spooked-out three-chord synth-piano line sets the tone as O’Neil recalls forgone dreams “to accomplish great things,” dreams that have since been replaced by unhappiness. But judging from O’Neil’s productivity of late, her real-life dreams look alive. The full-length LP Underground is set to be released in February, with a song about her home town to be included.
One Bullet Solution
One Bullet Solution’s latest offering, Undying Ties, is a clinic in progressive Mass metal musicianship, but with twist. Tempos are a tick slower, screamo vocals are rare, and the usual metal computer-precision rhythms are relaxed enough to allow a bit of groove. The varying styles of guitarists Josh Thompson and Steve Vitiello are effectually complimentary; they slam back-breaking crunches on “Needlepoint” and harmonize shredding leads on “Of the Essence.” The vocals are sung in harmony, too: Vitiello takes the upper-range lead vocals and Thompson the lows on the chorus to “Last Time,” a paranoia-drenched tale of lying sleepless with personal promises of no longer letting people “control the lies.” Nothing is more metal than the lyrics in “Last Time,” but acoustic guitars and compassionate vocals on “Sibilance” preview Vitiello’s vulnerable side: “Even though I try to do the best I know is right/In the Midst, I leave myself behind.” A softer side to metal, yes, but it still induces head bangs.
Hey Now, Morris Fader
A piano-and-drum duo in the vein of Ben Folds Five, Hey Now, Morris Fader’s sophomore release Ride the Fader is a collection of ordinary life experiences put to bombastic power-pop. “Airport Song” chronicles vocalist Brooks Milgate’s frustrations with having a flight delayed as he sits in a corner, biting his tongue, and forcing a smile. And “Running in Place,” a song about losing motivation, stops in mid verse so the guys can snack on potato chips — literally, the music stops and crunch-crunch noises are heard. But these light-hearted themes are set to some serious noise. Milgate and drummer Alex Sacco’s raucous style of performance are insistent on percussion instruments, vocal chords notwithstanding. “Down in Front” opens with a bang: a 4/4 beat is hammered into the ground over a rollicking piano chords, and the line “down in front, no one cares about you” matches the intensity while bursting your bubble. Being taken down a peg never sounded so good.
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