Adam Hardcastle’s latest release, Stille, is a minimalist’s holiday in desolation row.  The music is lugubrious; sometimes it’s like notes are being felt out as he goes, impromptu, as though wielding large ambient weapons, honing industrial percussion with an abyss of slow bass.  The feeling is of strange introspective to the point of isolation.

On “Dazed” Hardcastle manages to muster up the emotional range to give us a few tender moments of vulnerability, like Thom York of Radiohead, but it is evident he is struggling with the tone and pitch on occasion.  The countertenor is mostly consistent, giving us a sort of eerie divination of the apocalypse sort of feel.  Ghostly falsetto feels haunting, but the trembling voice borders more on weakness then those transcendent moments.  The whistling is cool, if a bit X-files-ish.  The ominous tone is there but it’s dated and been done before.  Adam is very talented, but this album often sounds like raw live cuts instead of a studio production.  More consistent note resolution, less sliding and tightly focused breath support over time could make Hardcastle quite incredible, but this is more college act quality then stadium tour style.  That can be a very good thing for a growing artist, and it is entirely possible that we may one day look back on these quirks and find them to be simply smaller evolutionary articulations of a greater career.

The low creeping manner of Adam’s music is reminiscent of Nick Cave, but not as well developed.  “The Stoning” reminds one most of Cave’s dark removed perspective, but the lyrics just don’t deliver the same depth for all their attempts.  The song comes off as contrived, even though the gradual pathological lie the character tells is an intriguing example of eroding perspective. Despite this, the transitions from “I think I may have killed a man” to “I think I almost stoned a man” to “I may well be a witness” and finally “I hear a man was stoned to death” are well written, if labored over, and indeed quite clever insights.  As if he desires the cool aesthetic of Tom Waits and simultaneously the edginess of Trent Reznor, it sounds as though he is on the way to finding his voice but it is not quite there yet.

Most of the percussion is good. One loop in particular in “The Sky’s the Same” sounds like a paper jam in a dot-matrix printer. However, the bass lines are uninspired with less energy then Portishead and no progressive interesting changes.  Hardcastle’s limited range means that each song pretty much sounds the same. The drum and bass loops deserve more variation.  A little dynamic adjustment here, a bit of glitching the beats, some key changes, and perhaps a few more drums fills and dynamic riffs would really help the songs have a more full sound. From a minimalist mindset, though, the album is very well crafted, without much flash or bang.

Perhaps the shouting of outside forces has cornered the artist.  In his favor, Hardcastle is trying to do something nearly impossible: communicate solitude to an audience in a public setting, and one has to admire that sort of tenacity.  Most crowds don‘t have the patience for this sort of music, but it appeals greatly to the minds of producers and remix artists a like for layers of pastiche in electronica.  This makes Adam more of an artist’s artist then a musician for just any old venue.  In the right niche, he has lots of potential, especially with brilliant back-up musicians and touring alongside other charismatic inspirations.

Stille is a wonderful artistic endeavor as an indie experiment, attempting to salvage truth and honor of some sort from desolation. However, how much treasure can be found in these cynical musings on humanity will vary by each listener.  Adam Hardcastle is a good poet to watch, but still requires vocal refinement to be a true great. Stille is worth a listen, but quality issues make it tough to recommend to anything but niche audiences.

Review by Julian Gorman

Julian Gorman, Reviews Adam Hardcastle, Stille

Electronic music as a whole is experiencing a revolution.   Musical instruments have been slowly changing form with technology, creating new and innovative ways to produce music.  With all this new advancement in sound, many still relish the original synthesizers and sequence remixers as the classical electronica sound.  Omega and the Aspirin’s self-titled album is a time warp to golden age of electronica, featuring a blend of old school sound with updated production and pounding beats.

The album opens with “Sweet as Sugar” and is just as it promises.  Warm bass pours out with gleeful little blips and even a little beat glitching, done tastefully.  It is a great introduction that builds a nice happy, easy-going, sort of electro.  Even though Omega and the Aspirin have a consistently driving drum and bass, it seems lacks creativity and progression.  The style is respectful of great artists such as Front 242 or Kraftwerk, yet one yearns for more variation in their music, as it feels a bit stale compared to what other new acts like VNV Nation are doing to move the genre forward by incorporating multiple electronic styles gracefully so as they don’t overshadow their genre or confuse their audience.

The best synthesis line on the entire album is far and away the quirky quacking instrument produced for the melody in “Jaffa.”   The only problem is they milk it for all it’s worth and it loses its appeal.  The 2-measure part loops endlessly without any real variation.  Throw some flanger on their or toy with the echoes or augment the dynamics or something, but never use the same exact line for the entire electronica song; dancers are known to have short attention spans, but they’re not zombies.  Some of these songs repeat a bit like very early Moby (complete with monotone highly processed singing) and sound as though Daft Punk were thrown in a washing machine.  It’s difficult to tell how long this sort of simplicity in dance music will be tolerated, but judging by the current scenes around the world being dominated by variations of trance, it will take some time for early 80s genre electronica to make a comeback; perhaps as bigband or ska resurged for a glimmer of a moment in the mid 90s.  As odd as it may sound, the dance scene is a lot more mindful then it used to be and demands the sort of dynamics in music that are not only physically, but mentally stimulating.  The days of bland techno loops died with the underground methamphetamine club scene in the 80s.  Anything that’s been done in electronica these days has its 15 minutes and fades out into the next wave of advancement.  Despite this, Omega and the Aspirin do a fairly good job genuflecting to their musical origins, but one wants for more musical advancement into new sounds.

There is a lot to be said for taste when it comes to synthesized effects.  People tend to prefer warm fuzzy sounds that resonate with the mind and body.  So it is always confusing when a clang or a whistle actually finds its way into the music.  The panning bells at the beginning and end of Ponyo drive me crazy.  I had to turn down the music, and that’s bad when the bass line is so pleasant turned up very loud.  Panning clangs do not help, shall we say psychedelically sensitive, dance goers have a good time.  It does exactly the opposite and sends them running for their P.L.U.R. toys.

Listening to Churchill speak on “We must Arm,” though amazing, evokes images of terrible war and has about the same effect as some of the more annoying noises when “Is this a call to war,” starts looping.  It is this sort of hard truth that will surely hinder Omega and the Aspirin from finding much popular play, but make their perspective poignant, if aggressive.  Such a vibe is fairly intolerable in the sensitive southern European style dance clubs and more laid back scenes, however it might find a more appreciative audience in Germany or perhaps even in certain American gothic scenes, but Omega and the Aspirin are between genres so it is difficult to place then with any new cultural phenomenon or any old niche.

The “mysterious” Cam’s voice is often peppered with odd filters and effects that more often then not deliver a sort of creepy Robert Smith like vibe.  Unfortunately, sometimes the effects are used to disguise sour notes and scoops.  Songs like “Envy Free Reaction” fall short vocally, though often delicate and wonderfully stylized, a lot of notes just sound like Marilyn Manson with a sore throat on Thorazine.  Some more charisma and energy would be much appreciated for so called dance music.

Omega and the Aspirin have a high quality sound with an old-school sensibility that salvages some of the best electronic music from the 80s and 90s.  They shine when it comes to slow moving warm synthesizer remixes and heavy full drum and bass.  However, there is very little here that hasn’t been done before, and will appeal to a specific conservative electronic music lovers.  The low energy is inappropriate for most dance clubs, but intriguing and well put together none the less.  They still need some refinement with their sound but have great potential with good consistency.  It is just too bad that sometimes they make you want to relax, dance or take aspirin and have a lay down.  Chill music, but unorigional with depressing, if realistic, lyrics.  If Omega and the Aspirin can smooth out their sound, amp up their lead singer and experiment with new sound a little more, they could be an incredible band.

Review by Julian Gorman

Julian Gorman, Reviews Cameron Ailiff, Omega and the Aspirin

“Oooooah-ow!!” Explosions of hot charisma! Erupting volcano blasts of grunge indie lava, The On Fires new record Betrayer opens strong, blissfully burning their music into your brain with a great bellowing call.  The Opening track “Coming Home” sets a suprb tone to the album, full energetic sound builds, music wrought on the road, traveling through the triumphs and pitfalls of building fame, these songs are excellent, made to be played live for real fans.  One is often overwhelmed with the euphoria of fuzzy guitars equalizing with robust synths and 16bit video game blips, multi-harmony choruses with vocal ranges that are easy for any voice to sing along to, if indeed yell and shout to in uproarious pub chants, with tremors warm bass and marching, quaking drums.  The On Fires are eminent stadium performers, a lavish punk-rock mutation that must be played as loud as possible. Deserving to be heard the world ‘round, this is a kick in the bollocks that rock is desperately in need of.

Within Betrayer is a tour of the Rock-and-Roll Hall of Fame from the perspective of a homeless vagabond who snuck in to laugh at their rivals and glorify their idols. The On Fires pick and choose from classical anthems as much as they embrace the late punk era.  Guitars are alternatively juicy but never buzzy or annoying.  Producer Rick Parker has a real talent for mastering distortion and taming punk ferocity into an album that is balanced well enough to be turned up all the way.  There is little else better then some of these guitar / synthesizer symbiosis sounds chiming in between frequencies and haunting vocals.  The On Fires have nothing to fear and are ready to set the world ablaze with music.

Vocalists Max Harman and Marty Xennoff are that rare combination; female and male singers who actually sound peerless in duet.  The Harmonies are effortlessly contagious and hum in the memory.  It is easy to pick up on the vibe and start singing along with the melody by the second or third listen.  And it never sounds pretentious of classically choral, always punk harmonies delving into dark minors that resolve with comfort, yet still are quite unique and refreshing.  This musical fusion is sublime, grabbing everyone in the audience and giving them a part to get lost in.  “Sorry Now” is an especially fun song to use for blowing off some steam.  Shouting along is cathartic, just don’t hurt yourself trying to keep up!

Despite being such a strong duo, one feels a little lost sometimes when only Max or Marty sings alone, though usually poetic, the song “Melancholy” doesn’t seem to fit, if still enjoyable.  It seems that Max Harman may run into similar problems as Donna Jean Godchaux did with Grateful Dead Heads, as she’s trying to compete in a genre that is typically male dominated.  Her voice is weakest, unfortunately on “Melancholy” because of the sliding in the chorus, “Mel~lan~choly follows me ~ar~ound,” is reminiscent of a song from 1911 Vaudeville, “My Melancholy Baby,” famous until the mid 40s.  Despite the slides, the song is potently depressing in a very good way, as the emotions are truly real, but one yearns for more vocal precision from Max’s voice, such as in “Arms Open,” where her confidence and strife are powerful.  Harman’s and Xenoff’s vocals both sound best supporting each other, or alternating for dramatic effect.  Xenoff sounds very lonely when he breaks down in the solo to “Without.”  Marty captures the tone of desolation nearly whispering “Got myself another heartache, drive myself to an early grave and if I seem a little restless, it’s ‘cause I can’t see no-” and then yells “Escape!”  These experiences are real and the authenticity shines through their poetry and intensity.  Their accents are quite hip and charming, well suited to the grit and ferocity of their chosen fusion of genre.  Even an ugly American such as me finds their yokel twang swaying to that raw Aussie roar and punkish slang.  Enviably cool sound.

Some of the synthesizers are really inspiring for capturing 80’s retro electro and fusing it to this new punk genre.  In “Sorry Now” guitar and drums mimic a synthetic Thurman like ghostly sound that is incredibly creepy and energizing simultaneously.  The song rolls with ease into “Nobody Wants,” progressively growing into a more tangled frustration “Scratchin’ the walls, should be easy enough to make it,” showing a potential attention to detail reminiscent of anarchistic inspiration within punk and classical rock.  The romping bass of Naomi Brockenshire balances the rumbling drumming of Simon Newberry giving important foundation to the creative expanses of the other two members.  The subtle consistent power of their support really allows for these incredible harmonies to take flight.

The On Fires are doubtlessly a wonderful synergy of musical styles that demand your ears attention.  Betrayer is insightful, funny, punk-grunge anarchy.  A well-rounded band growing into world fame, this album is the best stage for their evolution to really become exponentially awesome.  Little quibblings aside, the honesty and raw indie edge are real and much appreciated in these days of over-produced pseudo-punk.  It is not a perfect album, because that would be dishonest.  The best moments are the little glimmers in-between that may very well be the future of international punk.  The heart and soul of The On Fires is genuine burning desire that puts the majority of pop-rock to shame with their combination of technical skill an musical imagination.

Review by Julian Gorman

Julian Gorman, Reviews Betrayer, The On Fires

As a torrential downpour cleans this dirty city once again, the sound of the rain pummeling the streets below hums along to the sweet jazz compositions of Key J (Ki Joon Sung) and listening to “Out of My Mind” my thoughts drift to the black-&-white 20s, imagining a sultry detective’s office and the next big case.  The music playing is the new album Transition and it is the epitome of cool.  A throw-back sensibility and respect for jazz when the genre was being formed keeping the style classic with a dash of postmodern groove, keeping things new and exciting,  the music is soothing -relief for a troubled mind- yet energetic enough that it definitely is not elevator music or that sort of contemporary jazz that puts one to sleep.  This is adventurous jazz with hints of bop that span the range from that seedy imagined sleuth’s office to a glamorous gala ball, making it appropriate for any occasion.

Off the top of the album things get swinging, exploding with big band energy.  The ensemble of instrumentalists is always on top of these new compositions, playing them as if they were jazz standards.  Because of that confidence, most of the songs fool one into thinking they actually are classical jazz tunes.  In “Talking About Me” the scope of quick musical references to the past are neatly arranged in ecstatic reverence.  Almost as though it were a montage of what to expect on the album, the first song really gets things moving and is what’s so exciting about Key’s creative gifts.  The instrumental chorus gives it all a full warm sound that is undeniably mesmerizing, advancing the jazz form, and a vacation for the ears.

Composer and Pianist Key J has surrounded himself with, give or take a couple instruments, an octet of brilliant musicians on the same vibe.  Their style is difficult to pinpoint within the cornucopia of jazz taste.  It is perhaps easiest to classify then as a sort of Post-bop Jazz found in the likes of John Coltraine, Thelonious Monk or Miles Davis, and has the ability to sample from harp bop, modal jazz or free jazz without breaking the core swinging rag-time soul of the music.  However, this is just a style choice, as the hard dissonance and chromaticism are tastefully done as accents, rather then the crux of the entire song, such as be-bop.  In this way, Key J’s compositions sample from all classical forms of the art and still manage to have its own voice and style notably different from any of the labels.

Perhaps most remarkable is Key J’s sense of timing.  Syncopation and tempo are always impeccably done.  Delicate attention to detail is most notably obvious in the soft and patient retardo captured in Duke Ellington’s classic “Prelude to a Kiss.”  It is nice to see all original work alongside one fantastic cover song, as it gives us a wonderful contrast to the new songs.  Perhaps some of Key J’s most delicate work can be found here, and it speaks volumes to his future potential as a composer.  This instrumental version is on par with the more popular lyrical versions done by Ella Fitzgerald or Billy Eckstine because of the vulnerability found in the piano.  Each note is played with the same attention and care as a vocalist, showing everything from ferocity to frailty.  Similarly, tension of the piano in “Resemblance” plays alongside a desperate sax echoes the same eccentric taste with darker emotion.  Highly refined but still empathic so that a high level and intelligence and feeling are being poured into this album from daftly trained skill and a passionate love of music.

Key J and his ensemble may have what it takes to make jazz hip again.  Much of what is missing from contemporary music is the gritty reality of the music being paired with the refined taste of the old styles; like aged cheese and fine wine, they go much better together then separate.  Transition beautifully balances the old and new to make a high class jazz masterpiece.  Key J could easily compose music for vocals, but the instrumental artistry makes it unnecessary, letting the drums horns and strings speak for themselves.  This is a wonderful album for anything from just hanging out with friends to throwing a classy party.  It is difficult to imagine Key J excelling in technical music ability much beyond this, meaning all there is left to do is play his music around the world and spread the sound.  It is rare for such intellect and feeling to be exhibited by the same composer, making Transition a gem of an album.  With this sort of jazz combo consistency, this writer is really looking forward to the new future of jazz.  Now, can someone get this man a full orchestra, too?  Key J can only get better from here on out.

Review by Julian Gorman

Julian Gorman, Reviews Key J, Transition

There is something very familiar about David Raleigh’s style of music.  This balladeer has a powerful voice that one could easily hear on Broadway, highly stylized but not a character voice, it falls nicely on the ears.  His music moves people to laugh, cry and most of all find hope in the desperate situations life has to offer.  With David’s piano and back-up keyboards alone, the sound is full and bright.  All this combined with an intentionality to spread love and hope, Beginning Again is an album that shouldn’t be missed.

The piano and keyboard are both very well played and work well together.  The teamwork of David Raleigh on vocals and piano, Nathan Leigh Jones providing additional keyboard accompaniment, perfectly compliment each other’s musical sensibility.  None of the music sounds over-produced or synthetic.  The instruments sound natural and pleasant. There isn’t much creative exploration going on here, the melodies are comforting, simple and beautiful, but rarely surprising or really new.  Singing along is fun.  Much of Beginning Again echoes 90’s R&B and soft rock, but higher quality sound.

Some songs feature light vocoding and vocal enhancement, but all appropriately and obviously without use of any auto-tuner nonsense; on Safe he sings “I’ll go over the limit, I’ll jump from the sky, drive off a cliff, run into a fire, howl at the moon, I’m gonna laugh in Death’s face.” Mellow flanger and echo give the sound a tight style when combined with impeccable keyboard and sequencing production.  The verse vocals of Safe remain raw, which is the perfect contrast.  And you have to love that talk-box at the end!  Too many artists use vocoders as crutches instead of wings.  Raleigh’s singing ability is wonderful and definitely good enough without the effects, so he has artistic license as a bona fide vocalist who is only enhanced by whatever device is elevating his voice.  There are quite a few “pop-artists” who could learn a thing or two from these tastefully done vocals…Kanye, Cyrus, silly boy/girl bands, please take note and if you can’t sing naturally, get into spoken word or get off the stage.  Singers must take back the spotlight from these mechanically voiced charlatans!  Too many great artists go unnoticed due to the force of the corporate pseudo-musicians.  David is always in tune, stylized with a range from cool calm on songs like The Only One to fierce alternative intensity with Here I Am.  Occasionally Raleigh’s riff boarder on the smooth syncopation and crooning that made Usher famous; though poetically no where near as trite or sexually driven.

Raleigh treats the subjects of his songs with a tender loving respect that a storyteller gives their characters, taking them to grand proportions in Gratitude, singing “I look at the sky and see your face in the moon.”  Lyrically the music is typically straight forward advice on love, life and relationships.  Mostly positive, the poetry is appropriate snogging theme music with enough contrast in the ballads that it doesn’t get too mushy.  On the active side of socializing, there is Get up and Dance, akin to a mello sort of house.  It is nice to see so much energy from a balladeer.  Even though there are tough life lessons to learn, they are never hindrances to his outlook.

However many of the lyrics are repetitious, riddling off colloquialisms of love too often.  Phrases like “Night after night” and “My Life” seem to be mantras.  More ways to describe love would improve the philosophical aspect.  The repetition in the chorus of Ready, Willing and Able just annoys me a bit, as rhyming the same word is a pet peeve of mine.  Anything else is acceptable, even not rhyming is more interesting, in my personal opinion.  That being said, the songs are really catchy and easy to sing along to within the first few listens.  There is some definite pop potential here for a more mature audience, but many of the chivalrous values, unfortunately, seem to in one ear and out the other for most.  Still, it is refreshing to here such a smooth sound that isn’t raunchy or distasteful at all.  The poetry is PG-13 at its worst, making it fairly family appropriate.

The musical values of David Raleigh are very respectful and have a sweet honesty that is quite enduring to their message, which if it can be summed up, is love.  Strong friendships, bounding, unity and a positive outlook for the future are all common themes that make his poetry unique for its hope.  The musical style is simply that of a classy balladeer proclaiming his love to the world.  Although there is nothing really unique, the pop-goodness will keep these tunes on the tip of your tongue and these hopeful messages in your heart.

Review by Julian Gorman

Julian Gorman, Reviews Beginning Again, David Raleigh

Music for meditation is somewhat of a novelty in the west.  Most do not understand that all matter resonates, from the tiniest particle spin resonance to the drifting planets and stars all create sound when moving through space.  Much traditional eastern music is in tune with these natural sounds, utilizing their harmonic overtone resonance to encourage states of energy in the mind, body and environment.  It is then especially exciting when artists fuse multicultural music from ancient songs and chants.  Peter and Karin Bayreuther have done just that, experimenting with traditional German folk music, playful English poetry and a world sense of musical technicality to blend in Indian Bhajan creating new experimental music with a solid sense of tradition.  The new single, Let’s Work Together is hopeful, exuberantly happy and a wonderful exercise in interconnected transpersonal meditation with friends.  Though strange to the unfamiliar ear at first, it is only in so much as the new music is so fresh that it requires many plays to understand; it grows and blossoms with time and familiarity.

The first time one puts on Let’s Work Together it is quite a shock.  There is little in our postmodern culture to prepare us for Bayreuther’s musical genius.  The violin parts are oft so complex, that one feels a sense that perhaps this music is ahead of its time.  The complexity derives inspiration from German greats such as Mozart, Bach and Beethoven.  This classical European music sense is forged together with a classical Indian perspective similar perhaps to the legacy of Vishnu Digambar Paluskar, whom helped to decentralize Gharana hold on cultural norms popularizing fusion raga throughout India, much as many German composers did for Europe.  Now we have Peter Bayreuther taking those previous incarnations and again making then new by combining two very distant cultures with their intrinsic musicality.  It is possible that this new combination of harmonic understanding with the fun of folk is revolutionary.  Much in the same way music from the 60’s is more worldly and experimental; we may just be at the cusp of a whole new generation of musical synthesis.  The resulting synergy from the combined styles is wonderful inward meditative journeys, a peaceful state of mind and ultimately a sense of happiness that one wishes to share with others.  Perhaps the only critical problem is the technical complexity and hyperactivity of the violin and mouth harp.  A few more chances to slow down and appreciate the serenity would do well to balance their somewhat frenetic style.  However, one must appreciate the sheer amount of energy being put into each performance.  A few more meditative moments similar to the end of the single, where the progression can be aloud to take place in a more gentle fashion would be comforting and complimentary to the philosophical outlook of the lyrics.  The childlike bliss of the music is, without a doubt, joyful.

Peter Bayreuther’s voice is hauntingly reminiscent of the Beat Generation poet Allen Ginsberg, calling in the same deep bellowing tremolo over raga scale Bhajan with similar peaceful and meditative purpose.  Peter’s poetry is less radical and much more practical then Allen’s.  In fact, Bayreuther too would also be quite good at spoken word.  His voice is comforting and the words are simple, yet incredibly wise. The primary focus is a sort of entrancing march of positive communal values that builds to a wonderfully silly crescendo of “fun!”  That type of humor echoes the happiness of dharma bums the world over, no matter the generation or in which culture they experience it -as these mantra and yatra have been discovered and forgotten again in every age, by every society- that they are indeed timeless lessons of affirmation though peace.  The most difficult is remembering to practice peace and happiness everyday.  Honest lyrics refrain in mantras of hope such as “Hey, Let’s do it all together, Life is much more fun like this…  Make the magic work!”  Such proclamations of mirth are so rare these days that it’s utterly refreshing to here such positive hope from these profound German musicians.

There is a sort of childlike playfulness to Let’s Work Together.  Perhaps it’s the vibrant bouncing style of the fiddle and hand drums, it could be the chanting vocals, or maybe it’s the mouth harp twangin’ away in harmonic resonance, but whatever it is, the Bayreuthers  seem to be having so much fun one can’t help but smile and laugh.  The end of the single builds up into a youthful explosion of rolling instruments, Karen performing beautiful raga style riffs and Peter rolling his lips on the mouth harp finale; a wonderful song for young and old.

Peter & Karin Bayreuther are part reincarnate kirtankar (Indian devotional chanter) and part meistersingers (German lyricist) and part English troubadour poets.  Their love for life is eminent in the hopeful music of Let’s Work Together.  They are on the right path to a wonderfully inspired and energetic new collection of work if this is any sign of what’s yet to come.  The blend of classical understanding in multiple musical styles and chants greatly enhance the importance of their art. However, many will not understand it and may require a little encouragement, but the payoff is worth the effort to have mini-enlightenments about how we understand sound resonance and fundamental philosophical poetry.  Peter Bayreuther is a musician’s musician, an illustrator of the new sound landscape with ancient maps in hand to make a new path through the wilds and a great understanding of how to utilize different aspects of many cultures creating powerful songs with meaning that only becomes more important over time.  And that’s just one song!

Review by Julian Gorman

Julian Gorman, Reviews Let's WorkTogether, Peter Bayreuther

Political artists are hard to find these days, especially those with poignant messages.  Earl J. Rivard, III has something to say on Underground Railroad. Making a huge statement right off the bat, the record begins with a warning preamble before the title track. A beautiful Spanish dirge sweeps the audience up into reverence for the broken families between the United States and Mexico.  After drawing in your ear so sweetly the song changes to in your face English rock, with heart-breaking verse at the brink of shouting “The time has come to say it loud, we have lost our f*cking minds.”  The song and album Underground Railroad is about the need of a new secret safe house network as for slaves during civil war, only this time the slaves are the immigrant sweatshop workers of Mexico, notably the millions of mothers separated from their children.  No matter one’s political stance, the situations described by the Rivards are undeniable, real and a perspective urgently needed amidst our “democratic” social media.

The collaborative work of a father and son team, both immaculate songwriters, Rivard, Jr. & III have created some very powerful fusions of multi-music genre styles that span the American continents with a dash of classical European influence.  The band members are all technically impeccable musicians.  To play such a wide range of music is indeed quite difficult and commendable.  However, it is hard to select a place to fit Earl into.

The voice of Earl J. Rivard III is complex, versatile and capable of singing many genres.  Usually this is a very positive thing, but with so many different styles of song, it often feels as though Earl is still searching for his niche.  It is difficult to compare his voice to any other, as it seems to jump depending on the song.  Sometimes our ears are in the care of a tender Spanish balladeer, yet other times pop-rock ferocity overpowers the band.  “Till I Met You”, for example, sounds like an epic sort of Elton John piano and all, soft yet strong and confident, riffing similarly.  Whereas the very next song, “Coldest Place”, sounds like the lounge of Vegas meets country music.  The overwhelming voice of Rivard is sometimes reminiscent of Tool frontman Maynard Keenan in its power.  The problem in Rivard’s vocals, however, is his tendency to scoop up to notes, making performances not nearly as solid, with harsh emphasis on English vowels.  His Spanish is so soft and romantic; one wants more for these moments than the shouting “Loud and Strong.”  It would sound far better if extreme English proclamations were treated with the same calm clear resolute tones as the Spanish lamentations, instead of being so intense.

“Lady, Sweet Lady” is a sweet carol in disguise as a ballad, if not part elegy, for a troubadour parting ways with a loved one.  The tune is “Greensleeves”, best known to the Western world as the Christmas carol “What Child is this?”. Compared to the rest of the album, this song is like a rose in a field of wild flowers; beautiful yet out of place and sometimes a bit prickly.  The arrangement could have 4-6 melodies as with a choir, but has a nice simplicity to it.

This production, album, band, and lyrics would have warranted a perfect rating, but it is the strange genre flipping vocals of Rivard that hurts them the most.  His tone is too serious, even classical to the point of trading some of the soul for power.  Still, Rivard has great potential as a singer if only he will find a comfortable genre and treat his English dynamics as he does his Spanish.

Underground Railroad as an album is brilliant.  Is it unfortunate, then, that the strength of it is in the band, not in Rivard as a solo artist.

Review by Julian Gorman

Julian Gorman, Reviews Earl J. Rivard, Underground Railroad

When most people hear the name Michael Lee mentioned in the music industry, they first think of the legendary drummer whom played for such greats as The Cult, Echo & the Bunnymen and most notably Robert Plant’s and Jimmy Page’s answer to a finally fallen Led Zepplin.  This is not that Michael Lee, may he rest in peace, but a new artist from Buckinghamshire (both hailing from the United Kingdom, respectively) with a new record, Face Forward, a fierce alternative rock album with ambient sensibility and star quality performances.

Every song on Face Forward is remarkably consistent, an impeccable studio album with Michael Lee himself playing 10 instruments including vocals.  All of the artists in Lee’s entourage have an incredible sense of dynamic control perhaps best displayed in the album’s namesake song “Face Forward,” – an instrumental, of all things!  Progressive layers of sound build with Lee –also on drums- into something more on par with rock opera. Imagine a much more mellow, chill Queen and you have Michael Lee’s epic album, yet they are multi-inspired and definitely developing their own unique style.  The guitar and vocals are unmistakably some sort of alien homage to Jeff Buckley, though Michael Lee is more consistent perhaps and less on the experimental side.  Their inspiration is as though they were picking up right where Jeff tragically left off.  Hopefully there is room in live performances to seek out such innovative music, but there is almost something too neat and clean about Face Forward, that has more pop sensibility then alternative creativity.  While well suited to the production studio and the radio, one must question the playability live.

“Despite” has a nice bluesy sound, but Lee fails to fully resolute many of the minor notes, usually nice and dirty, occasionally turns pitchy when the verse builds; by the chorus everything is perfect again.  One desires to hear the pain and struggle in those notes more, reaching more into an alternative soul that understands these songs shouldn’t only be about personal suffering, but the resonance of that pattern where ever one might travel this world with music.  The musician is essentially lucky in that they are only singing about the pain, and usually not directly experiencing it, though Face Forward has its moments of real empathic caring, it is questionable how much of this is metaphor and how much has really been lived through by the artist(s).

Face Forward is a powerful album with plenty of songs that are all at once comforting to the soul, refreshing to one’s musical senses, and full of glorious alternative fuzzy guitar goodness.   There are multiple tracks here that deserve to be singles, such as “Trust” or “In The Picture” having choruses good enough to stick in your mind and cheer up your day, or ease that aching heart; whereas the instrumentals and verses are complex enough to listen to the album many times through, discovering little guitar echoes fading to trippy keys or wonderful chorus harmonies that perfectly support Michael Lee.  This is what producers are talking about when a musician can both perform and cut a perfect studio album:  Michael Lee has “starpower” or that “wow-factor,” if you will, as a producer and the ability to back it up with a full-blown live concert tour.  But in order to do so he will have to be humble, and surround himself with many talented artists in order to compensate for the massive about of studio work he now takes on mostly single-handedly.  This American writer will be hoping they get enough homeland support to cross the pond and give our bars, clubs and stadiums a go!  The only real negative critique one can think of is confidence:  they have all the right ingredients to be super-stars, now they just have to want it and show the fans that they need it.  See a little of the world, write some more songs about why the love ballads like “Distant Future” are important.  What love is worth protecting from all these problems we face?  Perhaps even a name change would be appropriate, or a side-project where Lee’s creative energy is forced to synergize more with other artists whom have experiences that would add to Michael Lee’s lyrical perspective and instrumental experimentation.   Face Forward is technically impeccable, but so perfectionist and self-indulgent that one misses the grunge or perhaps punk aspects inherent in the lyrics and verging on strange guitar solos, but not necessarily clearly vocalized or expressed.  The only remedy for this is life: traveling, touring and really trying to understand the ethnicity of each exotic land you are blessed enough to travel through, otherwise the refrain in “Never Enough Time” could destroy anyone’s fame with simple worry and ego.  Michael Lee is strong enough to go out into the world and help solve some major issues with his music, and maintain the confidence and charisma needed to truly become an international recording artist, but it will take lots of hard work and understanding only gained helping others.

Review by Julian Gorman

Julian Gorman, Reviews Face Forward, Michael Lee

The human is a very complex animal.  Aside from the usual cliché tool using metaphors, let’s speak of commonality for a change.  All animals share attributes, but two of the most profound are song and dreams.  Everything that lives, surely resonates with sound, one way or another, be it of the minutest fashion, say the scraping of a squirming worm, or the most magnificent, booming whale song.  Then even the most insomniac amidst us slip into dreams, no matter what the animal.  What is pertinent about contrasting the two is just how mysterious they still are to our culture.  Human Brother walks the edge of scientific mystery and folklore mythology with transcendental lyrics and electrofunkadelic sound.  By creating new musical synergies with synthesizers colliding into classical instrumentals, natural, sometimes howling, vocals sing from the essence of humanity; raw yet focused, wild with purpose, blending harmonies reminiscent of a vibrant rainforest canopy.  Vision Days on the Life Ride is the essence currently missing from what’s left of alternative rock:  natural ­experiential truth.  “Wake up. You’re not sleeping, but you’re dreaming.”

“Stars Are Ours to Name” is far and away my favorite.  It deserves the two versions on the album, one studio cut and another live performance dedicated to Joe Strummer (of The Clash and shortly of The Pogues) “Who’s alive in all of us” evokes JD Shultz, a.k.a. Human Brother.  The song has an incredible retro feel that infuses more postmodern alternative drive.  The harmonies in the chorus are especially powerful, and this is one of the few albums one finds himself singing along to (while writing, in my case).  For the most part, the alterna-rock scene these days is missing the heart and soul of those whom cleared the way through the musical jungle, cutting away at the disco-machines and doo-wop boy/girl bands.  Vision Days on the Life Ride is homage to the trailblazers, and even going beyond exploring musical wilderness where some of the best bands of all time left off.  Surely, Human Brother deserves all the comparisons and praise they are currently receiving and then some.  The variety of both instrumental style, and vocal range is technically impressive and somehow always pleasing to the ear, always funky yet with all the new electro beeps and hums one would expect from ambience, bass and synthesizer provide a beautiful canvas for the seemingly never-ending creativity of Shultz’s vocals and instrumentals so they have lots of room for expression.

One can’t say enough about the harmonic sensibility.  Sometimes Human Brother gets very intricate. At one point in “Behind You Now”, the vocals split in three parts, a synth lies on top of it, a wah-wah pedal bends up into perfect resolution, and that’s not even counting the ethnic instrumentals, drums, bass, and possibly more synth layers!  This sort of complexity is woven in with such care that it may progress a measure or two, and then we’re back to a more simplistic (yet no less pleasing) verse.  It is overwhelming to try and discuss the level of production going on here.  Not only is JD Shultz an impeccable artist, but and unbelievable producer.  Shultz has enough experience growing up with musical legends, on stage with the pulse of the Hollywood music scene, and now a phenomenal fusion album dubbed a new genre, “Hu-manilectro,” that the up-and-coming artist may be a performing producer capable of greater things still, such as organizing a record label.  Similar beginnings that come to mind, though cross-genre, are like the careers of Dr. Dre going from N.W.A. to forming Aftermath, or perhaps like DJ Tiesto going from producer to DJ to forming Black Hole Records in the Netherlands.  It seems that the biggest problem for musicians these days in the wake of the collapse of the record industry is cooperation.  We are in need of great humble minds that can organize artists in a meaningful way.  As Human Brother says in “Step to the Side”, “It’s what you’re dreamin’ of, it’s what I’m afraid of… if we don’t pave the way, prepare us for the fall.”  Vision Days of the Life Ride is a spectacular remembrance of what was important about the musical past, but dually and intrepidly, a divine interpretation as history mimics itself this age.  Will we have time to step to the side?  Will we be able to ride the transcendental?  It is only possible if we embrace the natural animalistic, Hu-manilectro, if you will, origins of music and dreams.  Creativity for the sake of preserving the beauty of earth; these songs are prophetic and speak in dreams.  Human Brother’s poetry has insight that most artists are missing: tribal visionary clarity.

Review by Julian Gorman

Julian Gorman, Reviews Human Brother, Vision Days on the Life Ride

Benny Paul has mixed classical guitar mastery, alternative-punk style of vocals, folk poetry with a heart of bluesy country, and somehow produced a solid rock album.  I hope that is adequate, there are so many styles going on here it is difficult to discern any single influence.  The album My Kind of Normal stretches the fabric of the time-space continuum by synergizing so many great influences, that a style unique to Benny Paul is distinguished by range and ability. From raw screeching guitar solos to subtle classical melodies, his music is an exciting still undefined indie worthy of tearing up college radio around the world, and beyond.  The song Are You Happy especially hits home as a sure-fire hit on that scene.  The punk guitar and vocals conjure the spirit of the Sex Pistols, if Paul is a bit less vulgar and gives more sensible advice lyrically.  This kind of album is incredible for the massive extent and reach of artistic expression; one track your imagining moshpits and the next song it’s more like a folk jam-fest.  This is not normal.  This is Benny Paul’s normal, and life just wouldn’t be as interesting without such estranged perspectives.

Lyrically the subjects can range from love and misfortune, to striking juxtaposed comedy, when Paul sings “All I want for Christmas is a cardboard box,” it is humorous with stinging irony.  The song itself sounds funny, playful, but the message is poignant.  As cities around the world feel the depression, inner tent-cities have sprung up as my grandparents described the depression.  This is the kind of writing we usually find in Elvis Costello or Eric Clapton, great empathy for the common class, a message to help the poor and an incredible way of introducing painful subjects so that they do not offend, but grab the listener by the heart strings and tug gently to get the message across more effectively.

One must listen closely to Benny Paul’s singing.  His lyrics are brilliant, but his diction is muddy.  This is not a bad thing.  Honestly, it reminds me of a more lackadaisical Michael Stipe, who is -I must confess, a personal favorite- the lead singer of possibly the greatest band of all time, R.E.M.  One can hear the potential bursting from Paul’s voice; however he struggles with note resolution on occasion and has a tendency to mumble that takes a bit of power away from the impeccable guitar.  This may be a similarity between the two vocally.  There are two versions of Just a Touch by R.E.M.; one the familiar release on Life’s Rich Pageant, the other a live studio cut from And I Feel Fine.  The latter version is soft and mostly weaker then the album cut.  The difference is almost shocking, and all it took was a little more power, yet calm relaxed vocals on Life’s Rich Pageant, to boost the song into sensation.  I am highly biased, but this is a good musical example of where Paul’s voice also needs courage.  Sometimes I’m waiting for him to really build the vocals, only to have a soft song all the way through.  But this is a minor critique, the same way I would say I couldn’t understand early Stipe at first.  To put that into perspective, Murmur is still my favorite album, diction be damned.

Just because My Kind of Normal isn’t any sort of pop album doesn’t mean that it won’t be a treasure in your music collection to appreciate in value over time.  The album is indeed a work of art to be studied and enjoyed as the songs grow on you.  Benny Paul’s sense of alternative sound is only strange at first because it is at once, respectful of the past and groundbreaking.  If this is normal, this critic can’t wait to see Paul’s kind of supernormal.

Reviewed by Julian Gorman

Julian Gorman, Reviews Benny Paul, My Kind of Normal