Revenge of the Quick Ripple Bursts - Vinyl Punk Edition; Featuring Fonzarelli, Luther, Restorations, Tin Armor, and Sharks Come Cruising

Fonzarelli – Last Chance Summer Dance

Tsurumi Records keeps on expanding and keeps on releasing one quality punk release after the next.  Spinning on the turntable today, in beautiful royal blue wax, is their latest Jack Endino produced platter, Fonzarelli, and their debut Last Chance Summer Dance.  And let me say, this definitely won’t be Fonzarelli’s last chance.  Packing in more hooks than you could find at a bass fishing tournament, and marrying those hooks to Endino’s punchy production, Last Chance Summer Dance is a glorious celebration of pop punk in all it’s snotty glory.  “Halfway Dead” is simply a gem of the genre while “Defenseless” is a boppy punk party.  But before you think you can pigeonhole these guys as post-Green Day popsters, they unleash a manic frenzy of “Japanese Rock” on you and you quickly realize that their punk muse ain’t afraid to experiment and play. 

Vocals are a touch on the whiny side for me, but that’s my only minor complaint, and in truth, when they marry their touch of snot to a song with the skill and chops like “Baby Me Too,” I realize that things really are just perfect.  Pop punk perfect.  Like all Tsurumi releases, a full CD of the album is included inside, and the package is first-class all the way.  Can’t wait to see what they comes out with next.

 Tsurumi Fonzarelli page

Luther – Siblings & Sevens

Black Numbers is another upstart punk label, --like Tsurumi—that has captured my attention with quality alt-punk releases like the sensational PJ Bond release last year.  Luther is their latest find, a quartet from Philadelphia, and let’s cut to chase; Black Numbers keeps their winning streak alive.   Back in my old radio days, The Replacements burst from out of nowhere, ramrodding the intensity of punk rock with the sincerity of mid-American roots music, and now Luther picks up the mantle and runs with it.  Starting with a delicate passage of acoustic guitar and vocals, Luther explode into the intensity of their post-hardcore pop fury with chopping guitars and pulverizing rhythm work.  And from there there’s no stopping them.

Replacements earnestness is here in spades, forming the core for a musculature of emo-hardcore and skin of pop hooks.  Never does this sound forced, but purely natural.  Aggression is there but tempered by true songcraft.   Nicely done.

Each song on this 7-song EP satisfies in its own way, without ever sounding repetitive or redundant, but I’ll give a special nod to “There’s Always Money . . . “ with its chugging bass and buzzsaw guitar blitz.  I particularly dig the little hiccups of harmony vocals.  All this and sparkling marbled yellow vinyl to boot.  Worth checking out.

 http://blacknumbers.limitedpressing.com/products/11777

Restorations – S/T

Seems like I’m giving as much love to labels today as I am the bands, and that’s good. Without quality labels, much of this music would never see the light of day.  One thing I love is when a label has shown such a keen eye for talent that I can pick up almost any release and know what to expect.  That’s not to say they all sound the same, but genre’s seem to be understood and quality is expected.  That’s what I get from Tsurumi, Black Numbers, and another punk upstart label, Tiny Engines. 

Last year, I had the pleasure of being introduced to Restorations by way of their debut EP and was immediately drawn to their sound which occupied a niche firmly planted between the aggression of hard core, the earnestness of mid-western roots rock, and the jangly, shoegazing, intelligentsia of indy rock, Restorations sounded unlike any other band I’d heard in quite some time.  With a rough-hewn, leather-bent to the vocals, delicate acoustic guitars, and an impending sense of danger, as if any song could explode at any second.  Now on their debut full-length, Restorations have built upon that base and added a quantum leap in maturity and songwriting to create a rootsy-cum punk- cum shoegazing masterpiece.  Each song plays out like a mini roots punk-gothic epic, unfolding at its own leisurely pace, led in by a gentle strum or languishing pick.  But the danger is always there, hiding, waiting.   Whether or not each song explodes or not isn’t as important as the drama they create, the dark clouds that gather over the wind-swept fields of grain.  The demon about to possess the scarecrow.  Moving, effective stuff.

http://restorations.bandcamp.com/

Tin Armor – Life of Abundance

Toning down the punk side of mid-western aggro pop, Tin Armor instead turn up the alt-country vibe to unleash a panorama of earnest-alt country power pop.  Talk about a step in maturity!  Compared to their last release this is a band that has grown by leaps and bounds, fortunately never leaving their passion behind.Beginning with the piano-led title ballad, Tin Armor waste no time digging into their country roots with the plain-rockin’ “Plain Limbs” and the piano rocker “Inside Days.”  In fact, it’s their liberal use of piano to lead the tracks that makes them stand out from other mid-western post-punk country rockers out there.    None of that is to say that the guitars are missing and don’t contribute to the whole, as they do, like the whole guitar outro to “Inside Days,” but it was the play off the early piano verses that really make that guitar burst stand out.   Dig that jazzy bass-led intro to “Just So I Know It.”  Imagine a fusion of Wilco and Death Cab for Cutie, and you won’t be wrong.  By far my favorite cut on the album.  If that interests you, jump on board.

Seems like there’s an abundance of sincere-roots rockers out there these days, keeping punk ethos alive in new and different ways.  Add Tin Armor to that list, but add them to the top.

Album available for "name your price" at http://tinarmor.bandcamp.com/

Sharks Come Cruising – A Past We Forget That We Need to Know

Now, let’s talk about roots!  Recently, Pope and I have been enamored by the Dropkick Murphys side projects like Everybody Out! and Rick Barton and the Shadowblasters, where traditional folk roots get married to the passion of punk with explosive results.  Listening to those albums over and over could never have prepared me for the furious folk-punk eruption of Sharks Come Cruising.

Coming from Newport RI, an old fishing, sailing, and pirating port, SCC take folk punk one step beyond.  Imagine a pirate ship (or merchant ship for that matter) full of sweaty, unbathed, homesick sailors making port, rampaging into the closest local pub, swilling back pints of ale by the barrelfull and erupting into furious song, and you’ll get an idea of SCC’s roots.  This is drinking, run-soaked, lost sailor ditties, revved up and ready to be consumed by a new generation.  Vocals are salt-soaked, whiskey brogued spittles of original ale-swinging classics and old-time, traditional shanties.  Water-soaked floor boards creak and squeak under foot as the sailors proceed to pluck on acoustics, violins, percussion and the occasional squeezebox, singing in gang-unison to their hearts lament. 

And it’s fantastic!  I can only imagine being in a Newport bar while these cats lay the homesick blues down.  You can’t not get drunk to this music.  Even if you’re not drinking, the fumes of ale coming off the lyrics will wrap you up in an intoxicating blend of trad New England sailors folk and immediate punk energy.   I saw that these cats play a few shows with Restorations.  Yep, that’d be a winner.

As for the songs here, no need to point out highlights.  It’s all good.  Just open a bottle of your favorite whatever, grab your best mates, and imagine that glorious return to soil after months out to sea.  Spill your beer, kiss your best girl or the one you’re with, dream of home, and prepare for the months out at sea still to come.

It really is that good. 

--Racer

http://www.sharkscomecruisin.com/fr_welcomeaboard.cfm

Brent Hinds Presents: West End Motel

 . . .Continued From Fiend Without A Face

With grave concern quickly taking up all of my conscious thoughts, I gently spurred my horse into a slow trot.  We made our way down the wide, dirt packed street towards our ultimate destination, the West End Motel.  It was there that The Fiend had retired after quitting the train, and it was there I would confront him (or her for that matter).  During my approach to the Motel I watched the main entrance carefully to ensure that no unknown persons left the premises.  My heart skipped a few beats when a man stumbled out the door, but thankfully I was able to quickly identify him as the town drunk; a.k.a. not the person I was hunting.

When I arrived in front of the Motel I dismounted from my horse and tied his reins to the nearest hitching post.  Being a creature of habit I took out my pistol to make sure that it was loaded and that the firing mechanism was clean of debris.  With that done I holstered my weapon, realigned my badge to foster maximum visibility, and took a couple of deep, drawn out breaths to steady my nerves.  A few moments later I was as calm as I could be prior to a confrontation, and I strode through the Motel entrance with a look of grim determination on my face.

The entrance immediately gave way to a spacious lobby which was fairly crowded with guests.  Idle chatter noticeably died down after my presence became known, and the regulars shot nervous glances my way.  Hoping to still have some element of surprise on my side I strode over to the stairway at the back of the lobby, climbed up a few steps, and rapped the butt of my pistol against the banister to call attention to myself.  With all eyes on me and the closest thing to silence anyone could ask for, I got down to business.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen.  For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Penfold.  I’m the sheriff of this town, and I’m here today on some very important business.”
Just as I finished my last sentence a sharply dressed, well-groomed man stood up from a table in the center of the lobby.  “Sheriff Penfold.  If I may interrupt, I believe that you are looking for me.”
“Really?  What would make you believe that sir?”
He chuckled slightly and casually lifted his right hand to obscure his lower face for a moment.  “Oh, just a hunch is all.”
“You know what, I think you’re right.”  I raised my voice, “Ladies and gentlemen.  I apologize for the inconvenience, but I’m going to need ya’ll to vacate the premises.  I need to speak with this man in private.”
A random guest seemed incredulous.  “Sheriff you can’t be serious?!?”
My only response was to cock my pistol.  That certainly got the message across, as everyone but my quarry hastily exited the Motel.

The man now holding my undivided attention began half-heartedly clapping.  “Bravo Sheriff!  Bravo.  Very well done, but don’t you think that was a bit excessive?”
“Not at all sir.  Or would you prefer that I call you ‘The Fiend’?”
“Gary will suffice.  Mind if I call you Pen?”
“Whatever floats your boat, Gary.”
“So what happens now Pen?”
“First you offer me some proof that you are in fact ‘The Fiend’.”
“Fair enough.  How about this?”  He took a small pouch out of his coat pocket and tossed it to me.  The pouch contained several gold coins of the variety that had been stolen by ‘The Fiend’ a month ago.  “Satisfied?”
“Yes indeed.  Now tell me what you’re doing in my town Gary.”
“Well Pen, the life of a highwayman is rather taxing.  I need a break from the routine.  I need a vacation.  You know…some time to kick my feet up and relax.  Luckily I found out about your town; a place on the outskirts of civilization that’s outside the reach of all those big city lawmen trying to track me down.”
“Aren’t you forgetting about small town sheriffs like me?”
“Not at all Pen.  I’ve been told that you are a reasonable man.  I propose that you just leave me be for the next month.  You have my assurance that I will cause no trouble in your town while I’m here.  At the end of the month, I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again.”
“Why should I consent to consciously harboring a known fugitive?”
“That pouch in your hand has more money in it than you’ll make in a year, maybe two.  If you let me stay here, all that money is yours.”
“Are you offering me a bribe Gary?”
He gave me a big smile.  “You could say that Pen.”
“I thought so.”  I tossed the pouch back to him.  Just when he made the catch, I shot him.  The Fiend fell backwards onto the floor, clutching his left shoulder where the bullet had entered his body.  Casually, I approached the fallen villain.  When I was standing over him I made eye contact.  “Two things Gary.  One: only my friends get to call me Pen.  And two: I hate bribery.  Besides, I’ll have money to burn once I collect the reward on your head.”

Hello there waveriders.  I’m oh so glad you could join me today.  If you were kind enough to stick around for the conclusion of this two-part review, thank you.  If that last sentence means nothing to you than do yourself a favor, go back and look up part one of this review covering Fiend Without A Face.  Not only will you discover some fantastically interesting tunes, but the storyline you just finished reading will actually make sense given the proper introduction.  Finished?  All right, let’s get on to the good stuff!

Have you ever sat down and thought about most established artist’s side projects?  Go ahead, take a moment.  I’ll wait.  I’m guessing that the more you thought about it, the more often you arrived at the same conclusion.  The side projects sound either very similar, or disturbingly identical to the artist’s main musical outlet.  If you like the artist you probably like the side project.  If you don’t like the primary band, odds are that the side project won’t do anything for you either.  But hold on!  Let’s retrace our steps.  Yes the majority of side projects tread a well established line, but there are others that don’t play it safe and really take a walk on the wild side.  West End Motel is definitely one of the wild ones, and I’m going to show you where the wild things are.

Brent Hinds plays guitar and sings in Mastodon.  You know…the widely successful heavy metal band that has put out some killer records over the past few years.  You might have heard of them.  Brent Hinds plays guitar and sings (backup outside of one song in which he sings lead) in West End Motel.  West End Motel is one of Brent Hinds’ side projects.  Now let me make something abundantly clear.  West End Motel – Is – Not – Mastodon!!  In fact, I’m one hundred percent positive that you would never connect the two without assistance.  Why is that you ask?  I’ll tell you.  Mastodon plays heavy metal.  West End Motel plays mid-to-down tempo country music with punk ethos.  That’s right…country music with foot-stomping attitude.  Didn’t see that one coming did ya?  I know I didn’t.

The musical proceedings get started with the flouncy strut of “…And We Are Here To Entertain You”.  Yes you are my good men.  Yes you are.  The listener is struck immediately by the earthiness of Tom Cheshire’s vocals.  He’s not aiming for the stratosphere folks.  He’s channeling the everyman and tapping into all the emotion that accompanies him.  No song disappoints, but a couple of the other tracks stand out to my ears.  The more rock-ish “I Like It A Lot” features melody lines that haunt my dreams, “She’s On Fire” has some truly fantastic guitar work from Mr. Hinds, and album closer “Highwaters” is utterly captivating in every way imaginable.  Vocals, guitar, rhythm section, hummable choruses; you name it, it’s here in spades.

I only have one real complaint with this album.  At twenty three and one half minutes it is too short to fulfill my demands.  After the album ends I’m left wanting every time.  I need more!  Some people might dispute this point and use my own argument against me, saying that the album is the perfect length because it produces insatiable desire for the band’s next release.  Touché my friends.  Touché.  To quote a famous person, “That means you’re wrong right?”  West End Motel.  Get it now!

--Penfold

Buy here: Fiend Without a Face & West End Motel
Buy here Mp3: Fiend Without A Face/West End Motel: Don't Shiver, You're A Winner