Little Beirut

High Dive

(www.littlebeirut.com)

Rating: 3

Owing as much to 60s bubble gum and as anything listed in their influences, unsigned Portland act, Little Beirut, weave together a sound on High Dive that is very much in its time, yet harkens back to these more naïve forms. Lush, orchestral pop hooks, phantasmagoric backing vocals, and layered textures all fill out the musical space on this record, creating a sense of being carried out to sea on a bubble of modern guitar and synth pop. Out of the gate, “She’s a Martyr,” probably the best produced song on the album, assaults the senses as each instrument screams out in muted desperation, spilling its musical banks like a low raging torrent. But thereafter, this tension is traded for a softer, slicker, more radio-friendly vibe. Outside the opening track, the band and their restful sound seem to work best on the ballads “Love During Wartime,” a tongue-in-cheek love song to Condoleeza Rice that somehow manages to be touching even though the thought of touching her is beyond abhorrent, and the title track “High Dive.” Here, the delayed guitars and atmospheric synths make sense in their muted tranquility. We find the production doing its job and couching the listener in an emotional cushion befitting the tranquil sentiment. Ultimately, however, and maybe this sense would disappear after more listens, the soul of the more upbeat songs, the razor’s edge of those shrieking guitar lines, the constant, unresolved dissonance found in the album’s opening track, all seem buried beneath a thin layer of fog created by too slick a-production and too much mind for perfection in the balance between instruments. When everyone is in the pocket, no one sticks out, and the music seems to lack excitement…lack sincerity. There are a few moments of this on the record. Still, Dive has some truly impressive moments that bear revisiting – a nice independent release.

-Brad Linzy

Iron Maiden and the New Wave of British Heavy Metal

[DVD]

(Chrome Dreams)

Rating: 3.5

A fascinating and historically accurate documentary portrayal of the bands, writers, and fans that helped give rise to the New Wave of British Heavy Metal (NWOBHM). Featuring expertly delivered commentary by a host of musicians and writers who were there during the scene’s unlikely and spontaneous explosion after 1976, this DVD gives viewers a glimpse into a post-punk time and place in a jolly land called England, where young men clad in leather and denim would learn a few chords and start their own bands…but bigger, faster, and more powerful than what had come before. With performance clips from bands like Saxon, Samson, Tygers of Pan Tang, Diamondhead, Def Leppard, and, of course, Iron Maiden, this documentary explores the rare footage and little knows facts about the movement, and sheds new light on its significance to modern heavy metal music. Clocking in at 2 hours 37 minutes, this DVD is more than a history lesson; it’s an exhaustive course in NWOBHM 101, and a must-see for any self-respecting metal enthusiast.

-Brad Linzy

Clark Snyder

A Complicated Cake

(Pugetropolis)

Rating: 3.5

Part Waylon Jennings, part Gordon Lightfoot. Part John Prine, part Tom Waits. Clark Snyder is another one of those accomplished lyricists who knows how to take the mundane imagery of the modern world and make it seem somehow timeless…somehow poetic. It’s a talent secured by those who are able to see the beauty and irony in almost anything. Sung in a deadpan baritone with just a hint of twang, and with comic metaphor in songs like “Hubcap,” sung from the point of view of a lost hubcap on the side of the road longing for his companion Chevy Malibu, Snyder recalls a lyrical adventurousness and focus usually associated with people like those mentioned above. This lyrical cleverness continues on songs like “The Parts I Like,” which admits it’s ok not to know all the lyrics, so long as you sing along to the parts you like. With a simple, sparse production predominated by Snyder’s vintage Gibson B-25 acoustic, A Complicated Cake is one album that can never be accused of being insincere. Far from being “complicated,” it is Cake’s simplicity that is its greatest asset. A couple of the songs seem to have been written as gifts for various occasions. It is as simple as the satisfaction felt after finishing cutting the grass on a blazing summer day, or as fresh as the glass of lemonade with which you quench your thirst. There doesn’t have to be much more to it than that. A good song speaks for itself. It comes from one heart in a spontaneous act of reaching out to another. This is what Snyder has accomplished here… at least the reaching out part. The rest is up to you.

-Brad Linzy

The Melvins

Nude With Boots

(Ipecac)

Rating: 4.5

It’s time to believe in the power of rock again! The Melvins are back with an uncompromising new album that’s got all the proto-metal jams you could possibly want. Like a giant robotic elephant, stomping and sh*tting all over your pretty, little tart face, the furor and rage of Boots will knock you flat on your pathetic, unsuspecting ass. Dale Crover’s relentless drumming will tack your crusty ballsack to the wall, while Buzz and co. flay the skin off with the acid-tinted razors of their metal. Formed almost a quarter century ago, their total disregard for the conventions of music, for the social constructs of life as a biped on a little floating ball in space, and for the boundaries between what is and what should never have been is perhaps what sets The Melvins apart from anything borne of the comparative creative wasteland of the past decade or more of singalong, Eddie Vedder-imitating asswipes calling themselves “rockers.” Warning: The Melvins will not be held responsible for any ultra-violence, riotous acts, or megalomania that ensue with the July release of Boots. Lock up your children. You have been warned. This is the good sh*t. I suggest requesting “The Smiling Cobra,” for starters. That song rocks so hard, I can feel the North American tectonic plate shifting just with these dinky computer speakers I’m relegated to using. I can’t imagine the galactic catastrophe that would ensue if I had a decent McIntosh all-tube sound system to send it through. I shudder to think.

-Brad Linzy