This page is dedicated to the freelance work that I track down and have published.
Right now you can find my latest published album reviews. More to come.
Stuntditch — Stuntditch
Originally published in Performer Magazine’s October issue.
Stuntditch’s self-titled album spans an array of musical genres from rap-rock to reggae to punk rock. Musically, the band – consisting of Dom, John and Greg — has potential and usually straddles different musical types without a problem. The lyrics are hit and miss. The fact that the Philadelphia quartet can’t settle on a single style seems to indicate that they are still growing and maturing as a band.
Maturity is an issue that is taken up directly on the second track of the album, “Consent,” which is about statutory rape. Subject matter aside, the song just doesn’t resonate – it has potential, but lyrics (ranging from assuring the conquest that VD isn’t a problem to “Fuck the law” to “In the end we’re all the same”) are almost too ridiculous to take seriously. “Tattooed Mother,” the most overt example of Stuntditch dabbling in rap-rock, is about a woman “who likes to party” and is also blessed with a “big blue bush, just like Krusty the clown,” which will make you laugh out loud. It makes me wonder if the band is trying too hard. “Broken Foot” is the band’s try for punk rock, and it falls flat. It could be that Walter Bass’ production is too clean, but believing that Stuntditch is a punk rock band is a hard sell.
“Army Of One” comes out of nowhere when put in the context of the rest of the album. Dom’s lyrics are solid but unconvincing. Like the rest of the album, “Army Of One” is built on a solid musical base – check out the bass and guitar solos on this track; they’re unexpected and are the highlights of the album.
Stuntditch comes across as a collection of singles that could be put out by a different band for each song. The fact that the band is actively trying to change its sound is admirable, and likely bodes well for future releases. But for the time being, Stuntditch would be best served locking down a single song and focusing their considerable talent on that pursuit.
The Rationales — The Going And The Gone
Originally published in Performer Magazine’s September Issue.
The Going And The Gone is the debut album from Boston-based quartet The Rationales. The guitar-driven album is reminiscent of Elvis Costello at his saccharine pop best. Each song is a multilayered hook-fest with carefully constructed instrumentation and vocal balance that makes it one of the better power pop albums you’ll hear this year.
“No Guarantees” is a prototypical power pop song about maneuvering through a new relationship. Everything from the subtle background vocals to the simple yet effective guitar work to the overblown keyboard-bordering-on-organ sound adds layers to the song that create an irresistible mix of swirling ear candy. Three of remaining the tracks on the album (“Far Away,” “On The Vine” and “Cliché”) follow a similar musical pattern, but The Rationales differentiate each song just enough to keep the album moving forward and the hooks interesting.
The real problem with The Going And The Gone is that the album is so short but still features two ballads. There’s nothing inherently wrong with ballads, but it seems like a curious choice for the band to bookend the album with them. “Guardrail,” the opener, is a song about looking at a picture of an ex-girlfriend and thinking back on the good times. The use of keys is atmospheric and the softly wailing guitar adds another layer to the sound, which, in this case, borders on cheese. Opening the album with this tune was a mistake.
“Ruby Colored Halo,” the song that closes the album, will grow on you. The song consists mostly of acoustic and steel guitar and doesn’t need anything else to fill out the sound. It also serves as an excellent example of the solid pop songwriting that is present in The Rationales.
Ironically, it’s also the song that strays the furthest from the sound on the rest of the album. The song works undeniably — and the band must have known they’d written a good ballad – but it feels tacked on to raise the run time and simultaneously show their range.
But the album is solid. The sequencing could use a tweak but both “Guardrail” and “Ruby Colored Halo” have to stay on the album. Having two weaker songs on a six song album would usually kill any goodwill the rest of the songs built up, but in the case of The Going And The Gone, each track adds to the hypnotic layering and melodies the band created and nothing should be changed.
We’re All Gonna Die — Kiss The Ground, Curse The Sky
Originally Published in Performer Magazine’s July Issue.
Riffs don’t simply emanate from Boston metal trio We’re All Gonna Die; they explode. When the Healey’s (Jim and Scott) decide to kick the groove up to ten on Kiss The Ground, Curse The Sky, the payoff is thrashingly good. The group exudes musical talent but needs to learn to reconcile that with the songwriting choices they make. An open admiration for Chris Cornell and good metal generally don’t mix.
The tracks “Brown Rabbit,” “Bled Out” and “The Guns of August” all have a heavy beat constantly being rushed forward by Jim Healey’s ability to write the crushing riffs. These three songs make promises that the rest of the album can’t keep. By pushing toward a total sonic payoff that never quite materializes, We’re All Gonna Die never fulfills its potential.
The rest of the album alternates between atmospheric soft rock and stoner ambiance. That maddening choice to get away from what We’re All Gonna Die is best at – writing sick riffs – coupled with Jim Healey’s voice are the bands biggest weaknesses. The guitars, bass and drums create an undeniably big sound and Healey’s vocals just don’t have the charisma or pipes to keep up. That’s probably why the band decides to write songs like “Dusk and Done,” a duet with Bridget Nault that sucks the momentum out of everything the album has accomplished to that point. Having a melodic counter point to slow things down, settle the crowd and let everyone catch their breath isn’t a terrible thing for a metal album. But We’re All Gonna Die does it like Metallica did on Load and Re-Load instead of Ride the Lighting.
Ultimately, We’re All Gonna Die exudes talent but can’t decide their identity. It alternates between chunky, Mack Truck guitar riffs, singer/songwriter material and the Cornell-fronted Temple of the Dog.
Ben Pilgrim — The Further Adventures Of…
Originally published in Performer Magazine’s July issue.
Ben Pilgrim’s soulful voice is made to be paired with an acoustic guitar and not much else. For most of The Further Adventures of… Pilgrim employs exactly that combination. The album is heavily thematic, full of character sketches and stories about displaced people looking for direction. The singer/songwriter is at his best when he relies on his voice and guitar to tell simple stories, using guest spots from a rhythm section, tambourine, banjo and cello to fill out the empty corners of his sound. While the instrumentation choices make Pilgrim’s voice the center piece, the rest of the album comes up short.
The majority of the songs on Further Adventures of… are spent meditating and emoting on how lost love can nearly ruin someone’s life and the feeling of loss and emptiness that creates. “God Should’ve Made You Ugly” provides some catharsis for Pilgrim who lashes out at a beautiful woman whose personality doesn’t fit her God-given good looks.
“The Ones Who Have To Die,” is a marked departure from love, instead focusing on the displacement caused by the current war. For a song about death, corruption and anger, Pilgrim uses a surprisingly bright and sprightly chord progression. Pilgrim’s stays true to the theme of the album by singing about the displaced kids fighting and dying for politicians who aren’t on the front lines. Ben Pilgrim showcases his strengths in creating character sketches and stories about very explicit emotions. It’s a nice effort, but not much more than that.
Chris Evil and the Taints – Wanna Kill Kill Kill
Originally published in Performer Magazine’s June issue.
Chris Evil and the Taints is the band you want playing at your next basement party. Combining a post-punk sound, with a garage band’s mentality and throwing in a touch of Muddy Waters into the swirling mix of hard-driven low-fi guitars, the trio’s album Wanna Kill Kill Kill, is smooth like the after taste of Beefeater gin and will leave you hung-over the next morning.
While it may sound like the trio recorded the album in a bathroom, the songs themselves are slightly more refined, relying on distorted guitar riffs and a frenetic rhythm section, but the sound works for this band.
The playing isn’t clean or technical — the album consists of rough-edged three chord progressions — but the intentions are clear and every song on the album works. Like the singing in the song “1-2-3-4-Q-Tonight,” Chris Evil and the Taints don’t leave anything to the imagination: they just want to “fuck you tonight.”
Only a single song, “Mistress Alcohol,” tops the three-minute mark, while Evil does his best to channel a perverted mix of Glen Danzig and Type O Negative’s Peter Steele on the track, and the title, it is worth noting, could be right off of Bloody Kisses. Throw in raunchy, rough edged chord changes and you’ve got one of the strongest tunes on the album. While “Mistress Alcohol” won’t make you want to groove like “Fuckhead” or “Drunk Tonight,” it is a short break — with an emphasis on short — from Evil’s aggressive guitar sound and harsh lyrics. The enthusiasm Chris Evil and the Taints bring to their sound makes Wanna Kill Kill Kill work.
Brenden Murphy – Jumped the Shark
Originally published in Performer Magazine’s May issue.
Boston born, Alaskan-transplant Brendan Murphy’s debut, Jumped the Shark, is striking with its stark acoustic guitars and harmonicas, though the lyrical content is a bit conventional.
The instrumentation on the album is pretty spare – acoustic guitar, harmonica, metronomic drums and a few other instruments are all we get. The mood Murphy creates isn’t bad – a lot of the songs sound like something you’d hear around the campfire if the guy who brought the guitar happened to write his own music and bring a rhythm section – but overall the songs never seem to stick. Murphy opts to stay in the typical alt-folk realm and never really breaks outside of the mold.
On “Sun Blames the Moon,” Murphy changes the mood, deciding to plug in for this track, Sun opens with a riff that may or may not have been lifted from Jimi Hendrix’s “Foxy Lady,” right down to the feedback. But at least “Sun” tries something the rest of the album doesn’t accomplish: make the music interesting. There’s a guitar solo, but even that feels uninspired, as if Murphy suddenly remembered what key he was in and tacked two scales back to back. Murphy’s talent is undeniable, but Jumped the Shark tries so hard to parrot the singer-songwriters that Murphy obviously admires, that it ends up feeling self conscious and derivative.
