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Home Blitz: Pop Music Through Deception

I know this may sound completely cliche or incredibly obvious, but music in itself is a science. It is a process of trial and error. Most of the time, the bad ideas outweigh the good ones (as anyone who is living in city with a million shitty bands and only a handful of good ones can testify to). But sooner or later you hear that just sounds RIGHT. The concept of what is right and wrong in music is a fuzzy subject because it cannot be measured or boiled down to the almighty logic of “1+1=2”. It is purely an objective science but just because there is objectivity does not mean there are not any standards. For most people, rock n roll is nothing but a pleasant background noise that is as disposable as the gum in their mouth or the coke up their nose. As many things are, rock n roll is one of the many things taken for granted because most people either don’t know what to listen for or they are content with the forced and superficial ideas of the million shitty bands that litter your town.

But sometimes there are bands that speak so loudly that you are instantly forced to listen. Home Blitz’s Out of Phase is relentless but not in the traditional way. It throws curve balls at you constantly and it doesn’t know what it wants to be. The record’s own indecision is its strongest point (Ironic because that is usually what breaks most records). It is simply not content on being one thing (rock, power pop, punk, acid rock, country, blues, whatever). It takes what it needs and goes with it, without any regard to what the “right way” of doing things is. Deception is another key sonic element in Out of Phase. Any listener who is used to an album having a set style or a certain air of predictability would not even dream that a song like “Two Steps” could follow the noisy racket of “Nest of Vipers”. Both songs by themselves are sneaky little fuckers, with “Vipers” ending its chaos with a somber little piano number and “Two Steps” beginning with a shaky Beef Heart-like blues riff before launching into full blown pop glory. “Don’t Talk to Me”, the album’s most straight ahead song, is a bitter and cynical number. At first, he thanks you for treating him like a fucking human being and then he gives you an earful of his problems. Not only does he have a laundry list of problems, but he refuses to do anythingabout them. What a way to piss someone off and what a way to be a snot nose brat. Surprisingly, in spite of “Don’t Talk to Me’s” complaining, it doesn’t really bother me that much. To me it felt like I was having a drunken conversation with a good friend who had a bad week instead of some fuckwad like Connor Oberst and his “feelings”. That, ladies and gentlemen, is a world of difference.

Another reason Out of Phase clicks so easily is that the singer’s voice is honest if not pedestrian. He may not have golden pipes but he seems to tell the truth when so many bands lie out their ass. Christ, sometimes I have hard time believing what so many bands say. Bands are like Thee Oh Sees and King Khan have made careers with bullshit like that. Don’t get me wrong, I think they get the job done but it can be very transparent at times. When I listen to Home Blitz, I get the same feeling when I’m listening to Ron House; both of them tell it like it is without any sort rosy view. Sure they be melodramatic at times but then again they are just human.

Just as we are getting used to the soap box style of “Don’t Talk to Me”, Home Blitz gets bored with that and moves on the next thing. I swear to God, whoever wrote these songs and decided their sequence has one of thee worst cases of ADHD I’ve ever seen. Now, our ears are fixated upon the blown out rocker “Other Side of The Street”, which offers no smooth transition from the last song. But of course this only adds to the album’s charm because it has no interest in giving you anything conventionally logical. Besides, whenever rock ‘n roll bands attempt to cram gratuitous amounts of logic into their music, you get the Mars Volta or even worse, Emerson, Lake, and Palmer. Out of Phase presses on with the poppy twang of “Route 18”, a song that starts strong and gradually but beautifully falls apart. “World War III” spells out Out of Phase’s whole philosophy by urging that“you gotta do things people don’t think you’re gonna do” to the beat of a steady riff. Come to think of it, the whole album is a series of steady rock riffs whose sole purpose is to stabilize all of the random and spontaneous ideas that are presented. Plus, they do a believable Cock Sparrer cover and really make it their own.

Although there are many great songs on this gem, the one that really sticks out in my mind is “A Different Touch”, and when I says it sticks out, I mean it sticks out like a sore thumb. It really is the bastard child of this album, which in itself is a pretty hilarious statement to say when the whole thing is a cut and paste affair. The whole song is a slow and ugly little thing. It sounds like if Blue Cheer or Sabbath did one hundred times the acid they did and embraced the possibilities of sub par amplifiers. It sounds like the song every “shitgaze” band was trying to do two years but got lost in their own pretensions and fuzz. To make this simple; I really like this song. I don’t exactly know why though. Its not that entirely catchy and the riff isn’t that amazing. I cannot put my finger on it. The best conclusion I can come to is the “tone” of the song, and when I mean tone, I am talking about how it is said. For example, I could walk up to someone and say “You fucker!!!” in a joking tone and they would know that I am being amicable instead of hostile. How you say something can drastically change the meaning of the said thing. What makes “A Different Touch” my favorite song on Out of Phase isn’t the music or the lyrics but rather how it is being played to me. Small details like that can create something extraordinary from something basic.

If this were any other band or any other record, I am not sure they could get away with half the shit this record does. But in Home Blitz’s case none of that stuff matters in the first place because everything on this album WORKS. At a time when so many bands are looking for the pop edge and let their rock edge get dull, Home Blitz brings you the goods. All of New York and San Francisco need to hear this album because synth music is dead, irony is even more dead, and you fucks need to learn to use a guitar properly again.

I'm So Gone: Jay Reatard (1980-2010)

This is kind of fucked up. My first post on this blog was lambasting Jay Reatard for his fall from greatness and now the fucker is actually dead. While I can't say I am too sad about this happening since he was the epitome of a drugged out asswipe, his music did make an impact on me as a music fan. Blood Visions, the whole Reatards discography, and a plethora of various other bands and side projects he did are very worthy efforts and are among the best in rock n roll. I want to forget Reatard as a person but I will not forget the albums.

Jay Reatard: Lets All Drink To The Death Of A Clown

2010 is not the future anymore.  There are no flying cars and the world is not existing in some post apocalyptic condition. It’s ordinary, boring, and painfully up to date. The new decade will render the relevant irrelevant, and new assholes will come out to play. I know that I will hate the new ones as much as I hate the irrelevant ones. Irrelevance always occurs through compromise and laziness. Five years ago, Jay Reatard and the Black Lips were untouchable and infallible forces in music. Nowadays, Reatard is a tantrum prone buffoon who pimps family friendly retreads of his older material just so that he can get his ego stroked by tin eared music “journalists” and to make a few bucks.  Do not get me wrong. Getting critical praise is not a bad thing and making actual money from your music is definitely not either but you do not have to reach to the bottom of the shit barrel to achieve these.  Reatard is doing what many musicians do when they attempt mainstream success, they pander to their new audience’s stupidity. Let’s face it, the general public is stupid. It doesn’t know what it wants. That’s why there are media outlets like Fox News and MSNBC to dictate their politics and places like Pitchfork and Vice for their musical taste.  The Williamsburg bohemian is just as square as the elderly
Fox News viewer. They are presented one perspective and that one viewpoint is groomed and pampered by the sources until it looks like the end all be all of anything.  Sure, Retard still looks like a maverick to the music press, but then again, anyone can look badass when Animal Collective and Vampire Weekend are considered the cutting edge in today’s music culture.  What is really hilarious is how the press treats Reatard.  Pitchfork, which is half a tabloid and half a Lester Bangs clone job, praises Reatard for his lo fi, garage punk roots and what ever other crap Matador pays them to write. Take any article on Reatard and count how many times the writer gushes about his “lo fi garage punk” and you will see how many times that person pats themselves on the back. Every review for Watch Me Fall followed the same formula. First, we get to hear all that shit about Reatard’s “roots”, which I doubt anyone reading gives a shit since they are getting a music recommendation from Entertainment Weekly and they are most likely forty something squares looking for credibility within their midlife crisis. Second, we get to hear about his new album which, compared to Blood Visions, is like the Stones going from Exile on Main Street to Goat’s Head Soup. Its not completely awful in the traditional sense but rather a symbol of what he has become.  All the good things are gone and everything else is exaggerated to the point that any moron looking to be cool can grasp onto it. But almost every music journalist idiot that reviews the new record disregards that and instead gives the tired cop out remark that he is “incorporating more pop”. Bullshit. Blood Visions was a pure pop record that didn’t use bullshit techniques to justify it’s pop status.  Most rock bands that use the pop tag usually forget that pop music is in the music, not the studio magic. Making your sound squeaky clean will not make your riff any catchier. That is something Retard forgot when he was getting his nose froze on Matador’s money.  The money is good, the coke is great, the music is not. You could have all three Jay. Fuck, what am I talking about? Of course you can’t!

The Black Lips on the other hand, I don’t know what to say about this group anymore. They were so close to rock n roll Valhalla with Let It Bloom and then they piss it all away with that goddamn Vice record. Why are you lowering your standards? There is no way that Good, Bad, Not Evil was the logical next step after Let It Bloom. I know that and I know fully well that the Black Lips knew that. The album after that one? Who cares? I know I didn’t when it came out. They fucked up so royally that I am not even interested in them redeeming themselves because I know they will not do it. There is nothing about them that is remarkable anymore. They are destined to fade away, all in the name of “respectability”. I don’t know what possessed the Black Lips let alone Jay Reatard to lower their standards to meet their new audiences’ standards.  What a bunch of wimps. You’re the fucking band! You set the standards, not the fucking audience!  If you treat your audience like morons they are going to remain morons. Now it just seems that the Lips are just another face in the crowd. I get as excited about them now as I ever did about Grizzly Bear. Damn, its really sad I could make any sort of comparison of the Black Lips to Grizzly Bear. Five years seems like a long time now. 2010, no Black Lips, no Carbonas, no Jay Reatard.