post-post-post-metal. Reverb-drenched guitars and a deliberate rhythm section dominate the aptly-titled “The Invisible,” which operates as a tense nine-minute buildup. A soaring, melodic payoff doesn’t arrive until the final minute. It’s worth the wait, though the first eight minutes are just as strong. They follow it up with “Unfinished Highways,” a short, reverb-heavy interlude. It’s not a filler track by any means, just a bit out of place on a split. Giants’ contribution is “Horned and Blind,” a 13-minute opus that opens with a strong, ominous piano intro. Even by any genre standard, Giants take their time getting from point A to point B. Rather than the usual riff repetition though, new parts are gradually, but persistently arriving. This song in particular also shows off a surprising—and all-too-rare—range of vocal lines. From the standard (but solid) guttural screaming, to a more melodic, soaring harmonies, the vocals are intermittent and hard to predict. But unlike so many other bands, they are actually the highlight of Giants’ sound. In a world known for 74-minute records, it’s refreshing to hear two of the genre’s best examples squeeze onto a split which would fit on just one piece of vinyl. [Anderson]
www.level-plane.com www.tdbrecords.com
The Tim Version
The Decline of the Southern Gentleman It almost seems necessary to reveal to you, the reader, that you are being presented with a new No Idea release. There. Some of you already bought this, sight unseen, off the No Idea website—along with a test pressing from some obscure band that influenced a bunch of other obscure bands. Good luck finding money for rent now. For those of you who still need a full review of a No Idea album, here we go. The Tim Version plays highly-charged, guttural punk rock. If Chuck from Hot Water Music started a new band with lesser talents, you’d probably get The Tim Version. This is not to say that this band lacks talent—quite the contrary—the music is filled with competent rocking. The songs just seem to run together, and variation rarely rears its welcome head. The punch that the Tim Version is packing is passion, and there is certainly no shortage of that on The Decline. “Too Many Saturday Nights” is the first break of the record, starting with a guitar and vocal intro where singer/guitarist Scott Laval yells, “I’ve been the asshole and I ain’t too proud, but I still hang out with a drinkin’ crowd,” before breaking into a slow, Gainesville bar singalong. A singalong to steer completely clear of however, is the album’s closer, “League Minimum,” which sounds as though the vocals were recorded by someone attempting to shoot his voice by the end of the song; it’s like listening to somebody gargle gravel. On record, the music rocks and all, but it lacks a certain something that might make it as memorable as some of No Idea’s other output. A group of earnest guys like this gets points just for bringing a genuine spirit for playing loud punk rock for the fun of it. Checking them out live would probably be the best way this is served.
[Quattrocchi]
www.noidearecords.com
Timber
Self-Titled (7”) I’ve been dying for this band to come out with a proper release. Their 2007 demo was one of the best demos I had come across last year, sounding like a healthy blend of Meneguar, Drive Like Jehu, and teenage vigor. Here, their familiar sound is more refined—fun songs, fresh melodies, intelligent lyrics and shouted vocals—right out the gate. “Beginning” launches right into a frantic vocal display and goes on to question the integrity and purpose of our own life pursuits; challenging the notion of always searching for
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something better. “Youth Wasted on the Young” is without a doubt the best song this band has created, with guitars that whisk up a frenzy of aggravated resentment toward the underestimation of the new generation. The Meneguar influence is pretty apparent on this track, but it stands out. The B side rounds things out with another three tracks, most noticeably the closer “Thorn City,” which best shows off the talents of the individual members. The track fades out with a chorus shouting “I’m taking some time off from the things I love to do,” and as soon as it ends, you’ll find yourself flipping back over to hear those first two songs again. Hopefully this is just a sign of what’s to come. [Birone]
www.virb.com/timber
It’s hard to say that Transistor’s records are classy, classic, clobbering or clairvoyant. They are all of those things; and in a few moments they manage to be all of them at the same time. These parts, along with all the peaks an valleys along they way are hard not to love. Being at the forefront of heavy music at any given time is overrated, and Transistor Transistor will likely never find themselves there. Instead, they seem content to keep putting out outstanding records, and Ruined Lives is easily their best yet. [Anderson]
www.level-plane.com
Trees
Lights Bane
Title Fight
Kingston (7”) I have to tell you I wanted to like this band, they do a pretty standard take on hardcore pop-punk, which I can be fond of. Fast guitars with quick licks and chuggachuggas for good measure. For a band of teens it’s done well; a bit of skill, and a bit of reserve, keep them from playing beyond their means. The first track “Memorial Field” switches pretty flawlessly from circle pit speed to guerilla style breakdowns, totally east coast friendly. The second track, the harder-edged “Loud and Clear,” keeps the frenzy going into a classic build-up to breakdown, emotionally effective and absolutely the right move. But by the third track, I’ve heard it all before, most notably on Through Being Cool, in fact I’m pretty sure this kid could stand in for Chris Conley and we wouldn’t know the difference. The lyrics don’t help much either, most times they come across like High School poetry, generic and with a lack of insight, and most often just vague enough to be about a girl, friends, parents, or God. On the last track, “You’re Yeah,” their attempt to sound angry and hurt comes across as the whining rant of a seventeen year-old whose Dad won’t give him the car keys. I know this is valid for the youth, but at 28 I couldn’t give a shit. What turned me off most was the band photo; tell the guy second from left to get off his fucking cell phone, you’re taking a photo, look straight ahead and look angry. All in all though, not bad. [Sousa]
www.myspace.com/flightplanrec
Transistor Transistor Ruined Lives
For almost a decade, New Hampshire’s Transistor Transistor have been releasing consistent, but infrequent records. It has been three years since their last full length (the solid, if not outstanding Erase All Name and Likeness in ’05), and the time spent shows. Their brand of hardcore swings between frantic and ominous, and is at its best in the handful of moments when it’s both. This obvious during “Pillar of Salt,” the centerpiece of the record. It opens with a slow, stomping drum and guitar intro, which sounds like a much more clearlyenunciated Breather Resist or Converge riff. From there, it lurches forward; still driven by the rhythm section while both guitars alternate between nearly-melodic feedback and driving chords. The vocals here, and on most of the record, are half screamed and half shouted. They are subtly melodic, with a delivery that is desperate, intense and articulately melodic at the same time. Transistor Transistor share quite a bit with many of their heavier post-hardcore peers, but the fact that their vocals are one of the strongest things about their sound sets them apart. “Morning Sickness” and “Price of Gas” open the record, both are thankfully—and predictably—two of the faster songs here. They’re dominated by awesome guitar and bass riffs, though the vocals add a great accent to both. Upon the arrival of an epic, crushingly catchy breakdown toward the end of “Morning Sickness” (and only two minutes into the record), even the most jaded part of your brain will remember why you ever kept listening to new hardcore bands in the first place. This same feeling is strongest on this opening track, though it appears throughout Ruined Lives.
:: THE NEW SCHEME ::
Portland-based four-piece Trees’ album Lights Bane is an immediately menacing listen, in several ways. With two tracks totaling 27 minutes, it requires some attention, not to mention those tracks are titled “Nothing” and “Black,” respectively. This record is an exercise in arrhythmic dissonance. There are points when it seems the drawn-out ringing and feedback is about to develop into a riff or something that progresses in a linear fashion, but the listener is denied again and again. To me, the denial of a desired satisfaction—that assurance that something resembling a pop structure will emerge eventually—is what makes doom metal interesting, and Trees uses it well. There’s nothing cheesy or expected happening here, and yet, though it is difficult to pinpoint and name, something happens. Feedback becomes ambience which is punctuated by cymbal crashes and eventually, a few seconds of a blast beat. Listening to Trees is like reading Samuel Beckett. You always feel like you’re on the cusp of something familiar, but the artists find a way to keep you in the realm of the unexpected. [Flatt]
www.crucialblast.net
Vacation Bible School Unlucky (CDEP)
Spending a lot of time with Vacation Bible School’s new EP, Unlucky, is a wasteful enterprise. From the Cometbus/Lookout! artwork, to presumably lifting their name from FYP, to their apathetic lyrics make it seem the band members took courses in 80s/90s pop-punk and used that knowledge to create a band that would reflect these obvious influences. But instead of being influences they ride, the bands that came before them would more than likely be ashamed to be grouped with this derivative trio. OK, so the songs are inoffensive enough. Listening to this EP is about as easy to get through as sitting still for three minutes. And maybe that’s the problem: nothing new, nothing to say except, “We’re gonna die, who cares?” Examples? “The only thing you can say with any degree of certainty is that we’re all gonna die.” “It’s such an ugly world…Hate yourself, hang yourself.” Want more? “Help me I can’t help it. I need a cigarette to waste all my time. Hate me. I know you hate me.” Not enough. Well, if you’re still wondering how doom-driven this band is, check out a left field/out-ofnowhere tune they wrote called “A Song to Kill Yourself To.” Maybe I missed the point. After all, they’ve started a band and are at least singing about apathy and indifference. However, the music just does not justify whole package. VBS might sound worse on paper than on disc; listen for yourself. If you like Green Day and all bands that sound like them, this EP is a treasure trove. When VBS execute to the best of their ability, like on “A Song to Kill Yourself” believe it or not, there is actually a decent band with a chorus hook stronger than anything else on Unlucky. Unfortunately, that small spark of quality is dying at the bottom of this pit. [Quattrocchi]
www.cassettedeckmedia.com