Who doesn’t love a good Simpsons reference? Not sure where you live, but here in DC it’s been a typical March - bouncing from 30s and rainy to mid-70s and sunny. Sometimes all in the same day (thankfully now we’re closer to the latter). But on the bright side, at least we got rid of the snowcrete. In terms of weather and other seasonal annoyances, I’m sure it will be clear sailing from here on out (more or less).
I bring this up because the mix of styles contained in our latest trio of albums happens to be wholly representative of a DC March - gloomy and uplifting and occasionally just plain odd (except for our purposes, not in that order). Enjoy, and take a break from yelling at clouds (last one, I promise).
New Album: Danger in Fives by Wombo. It’s time to publicly introduce OG Dave’s Theory of Musical Weirdness Resonance. In engineering, every object or system has a “natural frequency” - if you tap it once, it will freely vibrate at its natural frequency. A tuning fork is designed so that its natural frequency produces a certain note, like 440 Hz for an A. Now, a system can be acted on by an external force, which may also be cyclical (repeated with a certain frequency). If the frequency of that driving force matches the natural frequency of the system, you may get a resonance, where the vibrations get bigger and bigger, often until something breaks. A familiar example is a playground swing. This is a pendulum system, and it has a natural frequency that’s based on the length of the ropes. If you’re on the swing and push yourself back and let go, you’ll swing back and forth at the natural frequency while the swings get slowly smaller. But if there is somebody pushing you, or you pump your legs (providing an external driving force) you can match that natural frequency and make the swings get bigger and bigger. Resonance!
Were we talking about music? Ah, yes. I believe each listener has a natural frequency of music that they will vibe to (see how appropriate that Gen Z term is?) based on a scale from mainstream -> weird. Really, there’s a range of frequencies that do the trick, and some people’s range is wider than others. And my personal range has widened in both directions over time. But when I consider certain bands’ discographies, I like to think about how their music relates to my natural frequency of weirdness over their history. Some bands may start out with releases that are resonating with me, then gradually (or suddenly) move more mainstream and drift out of my natural frequency range (Genesis, Decembrists, REM, B-52s). Some may start out too mainstream then come into resonance as they experiment with new styles in their later career (The Beatles). And some bands’ early releases are too far out there for me, but they gradually refine their sound and settle into my range of resonant frequencies. Such is Wombo.
The Louisville art-pop trio’s first full-length release, Staring at Trees (2017), sometimes sounds as if each member is trying to out-weird the others, with disjointed bass lines, hammering repetition, and a vocal delivery that puts one in mind of an off-off-Broadway one-woman show.
In later releases Blossomlooksdownuponus and Fairy Rust, a more balanced approach starts to appear in some tracks, gradually taking over, and their most recent, Danger in Fives, showcases this refined sound exclusively. They manage to maintain their creativity and keep the listener off-guard with angular riffs, glimmering trills, syncopation and unexpected melodies, while melding their sound together to support each other seamlessly. Whenever the guitar or bass are covering a wide sonic territory, such as in album standout “S.T. Tilted” or “Ugly Room,” the vocal melody stays more stable and predictable to anchor it. When singer Sydney Chadwick reaches for wider and more dissonant intervals, like the intro title track, the instruments support her with an accessible and reassuring foundation.
Chadwick’s vocal style has matured into a high but mellow, ethereal sound that complements the mid-range guitar accompaniments. It’s a lovely, haunting atmosphere that invites you to explore its mysteries. But you won’t find many hints in the lyrics, if that’s important to you - the drawn-out, soaring vocals are unnatural to parse. Many of the songs only include ooh and aah and some of the others are probably words but I’m hard pressed to tell. The number of words I can make sense of in each song ranges somewhere between Cocteau Twins and Elizabeth Fraser singing Teardrop. This is not a knock in any way. I love the sound, but it’s not exactly sing-along material.
It’s a testament to the strength and consistency of this album that I’m going to jump right down to track 6 through 10 for some highlights.
“Neon Bog” is propelled by a click and muted cowbell that give the aura of a sped-up grandfather clock in an abandoned house. Vocals and guitar take turns leading a ghostly melody, and when you hear what sounds like a buzzy, distorted synth solo, it’s actually Chadwick’s humming voice that was accidentally plugged into the wrong amp - they kept that happy accident in the mix and it cranks up the spooky atmosphere.
“Reveal Dusty” shifts into a more bouncy rhythm, but still with gloomy tones and lingering reverb on the vocals. A sproinging guitar riff adds a janky, malfunctioning animatronics mood that is always welcome. Following this is a 40-second track that at first I thought of as a throw-away, but realized that it encapsulates the sound of the whole album in a few phrases. It is only Chadwick’s bass and hummed vocals, and isolates and showcases the gauzy, echoing effects that give the album such a preternatural feel. It is entitled, quite literally, “Really Melancholy and There Are No Words.”
“Spyhopping” follows this up with an always-moving, pendulum bass line, a melody that covers a lot of ground, and a guitar riff with bending dissonances. Then “Common Things” throws in a more conventional metronome bassline and rock beat, but syncopation and constantly shifting time signatures keep things interesting.
Wombo have come up with a lot of entertaining ways to deliver just the right amount of musical weirdness on Danger in Fives, all packaged with a consistently compelling atmosphere of mystery. I hope some of you resonate with it! (Dave)
Album from an upcoming/recent show: EP by Touch Girl Apple Blossom. A few years ago I stumbled upon a release by a band called Pale Blue Eyes. That’s bold, I thought. Choosing to name your band name after one of the more iconic and elusive songs by one of the most important bands in rock and roll history shows guts but also brought me to turn the album on with the thought in my mind, “is this band of young whippersnappers deserving of this name?” And with all due respect to Pale Blue Eyes, which I recall releasing a solid record, they did not live up to the name, in my opinion, and I have not gone back to them since. Probably a bit harsh, but I sorta feel like the band was asking for that kind of reaction when they chose to be named after a Velvet Underground song.
Band names are hard, I know. I am definitely an Old Guy on this subject; I always prefer a band called “The [something]s.” There are plenty of other good ones outside this framework, to be sure (Big Star being perhaps the best), but I’ll take names like The Replacements, The Who, The White Stripes, or The Umbrellas any day. It’s even harder when you decide to pick a name outside of the framework and also reference another band. As my Pale Blue Eyes example shows, I’ve never quite understood this phenomenon and the inevitable comparisons it invites. There are many examples, and some have certainly fared better than Pale Blue Eyes: Squeeze (also named for the Velvets, in this case an album), Eric’s Trip (named for the Sonic Youth song), Velocity Girl (named after a Primal Scream song), and more recently, 3A6OG favorites good flying birds (named after a Guided by Voices song).
Appropriately enough, it was in the context of good flying birds that I came upon Touch Girl Apple Blossom (TGAB), when I saw that the latter would open for the former at a recent show at Quarry House in Silver Spring, MD, one of my favorite places to see music. In TGAB’s defense, the reference in their name - taken from a lyric in Beat Happening’s song “Indian Summer” - may not be quite as obvious or evident as Pale Blue Eyes to the everyday fan, but to their intended audience, my hunch is it might as well be. Beat Happening, its associated label K Records, and the founder of both Calvin Johnson, are as central to the current indie pop/jangle/twee sound as they were in the 80s and 90s, when they were at their first peak. So this is an “if you know, you know” reference, and it’s a high bar, especially as Indian Summer would probably be on my list of Top 50 songs of all time.
TGAB is still young as a band though with veteran musicians, emerging on the scene with this EP in 2023. Intriguingly, they are from Austin, which is not usually the location you have in mind for the indie jangle/twee sound. Formed by singer/guitar player Olivia Garner and guitarist/songwriter John Morales, both then-members of more-expected-for-Austin country bands (Garner also had a stint in another 3A6OG favorite band, Hotline TNT). They do throw in some steel guitar sneakily at the end of “the last track Silver Chain,” as if acknowledging where they got started while they’re on their way out.
Overall, the EP feels like a perfect mission statement first release: 4 songs, 13 minutes, and establishing their approach: gloriously jangle guitars, vocals buried a bit more in the mix than usual indie pop (erring toward the shoegaze side of the spectrum), and the usually critical secret weapon to a great jangle/twee band: a driving drummer (Charles Powell, in this case) who can hit danceable beats but also play a beat that reminds you of the best of early Tommy Ramone.
The songs are all focused (I think) on relationships beginning and ending, as well as the messy middles. “Sidewalk” is more wall of sound in the production, with a catchy riff and strong drumline. I do wish we got a bit more bass in the mix to balance out the jangle, but it still works as a great opening track. “Dream From an Eyelash” is the standout song for me, taking the energy up just a notch and rounding out the sound, again led as much by the drums as anything else. And best of all, we get more of Garner’s vocals in the mix and hear how she belongs in the conversation with the singers in Horsegirl, the Cords, or the many great bands on Slumberland Records churning out this sound right now. “Things We Rehearse” takes the tempo down just a tad, and you get a different connection to Garner’s voice, if not quite her lyrics. “Silver Chain” finally delivers some bass and maintains the slower tempo in a clear closing track that takes a bit longer to develop and then is happy to add in as much “jamming” as you ever get from bands like this at the end. For fans of this genre, it’s the appetizer that leaves you wanting more.
The Quarry House show was solid, if not outstanding, partly because the mix was off (despite my love for Quarry, this is not uncommon, especially as it’s nearly impossible to see the bands because there’s no stage or riser) and vocals barely audible for much of the show. But the songs from the EP still popped, and the new songs felt like they had a depth and complexity that the EP didn’t quite get to. As such, the coming record is slowly generating buzz, and I can only hope that their next tour brings them into bigger venues.
I’ll admit to being a bit disappointed that they didn’t cover “Indian Summer.” Maybe that’s too on the nose. But based on where we are so far, it’s clear TGAB are growing into their name. I think Calvin would be proud. (Brad)
Album being rediscovered (at least 10 years old): 100th Window by Massive Attack. We can’t have nice things.
On March 13, Reuters published the results of its investigation into the identity of famed street artist Banksy. It’s been confirmed – via a signed confession after a 2000 arrest in New York – that Banksy is 51-year-old artist Robin Gunningham, who grew up outside Bristol in the U.K. (although Banksy’s representation continues to deny Reuters’ claim). There are numerous reasons why this news is both deflating and demoralizing. First, it’s a tad anti-climactic. Gunningham’s name had been floated as a possible Banksy candidate going back to a 2008 report in The Mail on Sunday. So calling this breaking news was a bit of a stretch.
Second, was anyone clamoring for this information? Wasn’t it cooler for Banksy’s identity to continue to be officially shrouded in some degree of anonymity, or at least moderate uncertainty? We could still pretend that this one mysterious individual somehow lived beyond or above or outside our current surveillance state.
Third, a Reuters investigation? I realize that journalism is in a precarious place. Jobs are disappearing by the minute, so I’m hesitant to punch down. And Reuters, as a news agency and wire service, has a history that dates back to 1851. But man, this comes across as petty and unnecessary. Especially when compared with the New York Times’ five-year investigation into Cesar Chavez, the results of which were published mere days after Reuters’ Banksy “scoop.” This Reuters report has all the feel of a neighborhood listserv alert about teens skateboarding at the local elementary school.
Fourth, this entire exercise just feels icky. These days we have a word for publishing information about someone who wishes to remain anonymous, especially when that person has harmed exactly no one (even if some laws were technically broken). That word is “doxxing” and it’s widely considered a bad thing to do.
Fifth and finally, if we had to have confirmation of Banksy’s identity, this is without question the least interesting result (no offense to Mr. Gunningham, of course). Look around online, and you’ll find numerous other artists offered as possible Banksys over the years, along with a children’s television host and a town council member in Wales who resigned over the speculation.
From my perspective, the clear winner of the “Banksy Speculation Derby,” the one who we just should have all agreed was Banksy even if he wasn’t Banksy because the narrative would have been so great, was Robert “3D” Del Naja, singer-songwriter, street artist, and co-founder of the influential trip hop band/collective Massive Attack.
Since the story of Massive Attack is fairly well known at this point I’ll do my best to be brief. Considered the pioneers of trip hop, a fusion of electronica, hip hop, psychedelia, and roughly a thousand other genres. Founded in England (Bristol, to be precise) by the aforementioned Del Naja, Grant “Daddy G” Marshall, Adrian “Tricky” Thaws, and Andrew “Mushroom” Vowles, although Thaws and Vowles would eventually cease to be full-time members of the group. Known for incorporating a wide variety of guest vocalists yet having a handful of frequent collaborators, most notably reggae singer/songwriter Horace Andy, Blur/Gorillaz frontman Damon Albard, Sinead O’Connor, and songwriter/producer Neil Davidge. First three albums are absolute monsters – 1991’s Blue Lines, 1994’s Protection, and 1998’s Mezzanine. (Mezzanine is widely regarded as Massive Attack’s critical and commercial apex – justifiably so – but Blue Lines remains a personal fave.)
Which brings us to 2003 and Massive Attack’s fourth album, 100th Window.
By this point, Marshall, Thaws, and Vowles all bowed out, although Marshall would return for the next album, 2010’s Heligoland. This left Del Naja (our erstwhile Banksy suspect) and Davidge solely responsible for producing all of 100th Window and writing most of the songs.
In its time, 100th Window was considered a bit of a u-turn. Even though Mezzanine was uniformly praised for its complexity and darker tone from the previous two albums, Massive Attack was considered to have strayed too far from its optimal sound on 100th Window. Fewer grooves, fewer samples, more abrasive guitar and drums (the album was recorded largely with ex-members of garage psych-rock band Spiritualized). Lyrics that matched Del Naja’s beliefs and mood, which were focused heavily on themes related to the Iraq War (anti-, to be clear) and technological paranoia, among other lighthearted topics. It’s also worth noting that Del Naja dealt with some… uh… legal issues at the time.
Fans and critics wanted a continuation of where Massive Attack had been. Instead, Massive Attack gave us a projection of where we were all headed.
“Special Cases” was the first single released from 100th Window, and features lead vocals from O’Connor (one of three songs on which she shares songwriting credits with Del Naja and Davidge). An unconventional lead single, the song is a bass-heavy haunting crescendo of a lament about domestic violence (“There are many good men / Ask yourself, is he one of them?”). O’Connor’s two other songs address shame and depression (“What Your Soul Sings”) and violence against children (“A Prayer for England”). Despite the dark subject of the latter (“Murder so obscene / Some of whom have been taken / Let not another child be taken”) the music sounds most like a full band in sync with themselves, all instructed to compose the most haunting song imaginable. And while O’Connor is no stranger to religion-influenced imagery, here we find her legitimately asking for thoughts and prayers long before the concept became both a cliché and target of derision.
“Butterfly Caught” was the album’s second single and features Del Naja on lead vocals. Musically it feels more like a direct extension of Mezzanine, only darker. The stops and starts of the beats convey Del Naja’s paranoia and sense of feeling trapped, as does the very out-there music video. “Small Time Shot Away,” another Del Naja vocal lead (this time with Albarn on backing vocals), features looped keyboards and irregular beats while 3D expresses his dismay over the Iraq War in a way that predicts both the concept of the forever war (“It’s wartime every time / Small talk every time”) and every individual battle thereafter.
Album opener “Future Proof” establishes the mood of the album with sparse instrumentation and a feeling of aimlessness (“We can be numb, we can be numb / Passing through”). The roughly 8-minute album closer “Antistar” might be the track that’s closest to a typical Massive Attack song and it closes the album by folding Del Naja’s unease with fame into his general paranoia and fear of the future. Of course from there, you’ve only got another 11 minutes to go, as “Antistar” also features the utterly skippable hidden instrumental track which later became known as “LP4” (seriously – it’s just a series of pulsating tones; stop at “Antistar” proper and get on with your day).
“Everywhen” is one of two songs to feature frequent collaborator Andy and is one of the most impenetrable tracks on the album. Less a song and more of a mood, the sonic patterns and muted vocals convey introspection, confusion, and fear. “Name Taken,” the other track to feature Andy, is equally difficult. Again his vocals don’t come through as they should, the music is bleak, but the lyrics that come through reference icy hallways and gunmetal skies.
100th Window was not well received in 2003. And to be fair, it’s not exactly a fun hang. But with hindsight the album is more misunderstood than misfire, although I would stop short at using the word “masterpiece” to describe the album. It certainly has its flaws, and it clearly caught fans by surprise, but the album achieved what its creators set out to do. That should at least count for something.
Massive Attack (mainly Del Naja, although he supposedly bristled at the idea that 100th Window was essentially a solo release) produced an artistic statement that saw where society was headed and I’m not sure many fans were prepared to hear it in 2003. But 23 years later the ideas resonate more, for better or worse, even if the music might not always strike the right tone. It may not be anyone’s favorite Massive Attack album (or second, or third) but its existence is not nearly as perplexing today.
Art should occasionally be reassessed, with different contexts resulting in different interpretations. What once shocked the senses can later be considered conventional. Kind of like Banksy and his street art. There was a time it was criticized, now it is celebrated. Or at least understood. Sometimes it just takes a little while for the rest of us to catch on. (Brian)
