| Reviews: THE 
                        FOR CARNATION CD (TOUCH & GO) 
  I'll 
                        proudly admit that I do not keep up with bands that are 
                        considered "post-rock," but most things featuring 
                        an ex-member of Slint are still gonna at least pique my 
                        interest. Still, for a lot of reasons I was in no hurry 
                        to peep The For Carnation. As a rule, I just don't have 
                        the time or money to keep up with Touch and Go. I think 
                        the last album I bought from the label was Polvo's Exploded 
                        Drawing...what was that, five years ago? And, we've 
                        all heard plenty of Slint spin-offs and imitators, but 
                        none of them, not even Slint themselves, have approached 
                        the glory of Spiderland. Their posthumous, 
                        mysterious 10-inch release (one side was an outtake from 
                        Tweez and the other was an outtake from Spiderland, 
                        and nobody knows which is which) was very good but not 
                        exactly great, and the same goes for that live version 
                        of "Cortez the Killer" that was (is?) on Napster. If even 
                        Slint themselves weren't quite measuring up, how could 
                        I expect just another Slint spin-off band to be a whole 
                        heck of a lot better? Especially one with a name like 
                        The For Carnation.
 The…For?...Carnation?? 
                        Okay...I mean, I'm all for 'breaking down meaning' and 
                        'playing with signifiers' -- I not only read all of Naked 
                        Lunch, I read all of Nova Express, The Soft Machine, 
                        AND The Ticket That Exploded -- but for gosh sake, 
                        even the most art-damaged among us know that you can't 
                        follow an article with a preposition! The only way I can 
                        possibly think of the name is that "it" is "for" a girl 
                        named Carnation, but then the article "The", which they 
                        insist on starting with, messes that all up. Matt Focht 
                        kept thinking I was talking about a band called The Four 
                        Car Nation, which isn't a great name either, but at least 
                        it's an actual phrase!
 So yeah, I 
                        might have never heard 'em on my own, but luckily, I'm 
                        the kind of guy who has a friend like Troy Van Horn who'll 
                        schedule an entire evening's fireside chat with red wine 
                        in order to listen to one album. One particular night 
                        he brought over this one. Despite it being The For Carnation's 
                        third or fourth release, it was my introduction to the 
                        band, and I was a near-instant convert. What I heard that 
                        night was one long intense mood-piece…and not just some 
                        simple drone, but six tracks, each one different; barely, 
                        but distinctively, different. They might all sound like 
                        they're in the same key, and they might all have the same 
                        tempo, but the bass lines are different, the drum patterns 
                        are different, the vocals are subtly different…the tug 
                        of each song is slightly different, so that the six tracks 
                        add up to six different views of the same surface, six 
                        different tugs on the same essential chain.
 I've 
                        noticed that the word "dub" comes up the most when this 
                        album is described, and for good reason -- the bass lines 
                        are deep, moody, and minimalist, and intangible space-echo 
                        sounds and subdued keyboard stabs haunt throughout. But 
                        wait, wait, I know what you're thinking…"dub", "Slint", 
                        "Touch and Go"…oh lord, not another "post-rock" "dub-inflected" 
                        "project" from Chicago…but baby, don't worry, 'cause this 
                        LP transcends genre. You could call it 'dubby,' but the 
                        guitar and keyboard and vocal parts over the top of the 
                        spaced-out rhythm tracks are strictly American, if anything 
                        even kinda 'rootsy' sounding. Finally, a Chicago-connected 
                        'post-rock' album where dub is a dreamy after-effect, 
                        and not a self-conscious ingredient.
 P.S. 
                        The second best "post-Slint" music I've heard 
                        all year is a 16-minute track by the Scottish band Ganger, 
                        which appears on the Sound Collector #3 CD (one of those 
                        comps that comes with a zine). It's mostly instrumental, 
                        and the beginning is maybe a little too 'post-rock' instro-clean-chimey, 
                        but that's what's so great about the track, the way they 
                        take post-rock and leave it in the DUST within about 6 
                        minutes. The accompanying article describes the Ganger 
                        sound nicely: "...a kind of kraut/jazz thing abstracted 
                        skywards."
 MEISHA 
                        CD; ARCO FLUTE FOUNDATION CD and live
  Meisha 
                        have a CD that also puts me in the mind of Slint, but 
                        in a different way. This time it's the instrumental side 
                        of Slint, such as the 10-inch, or the long vocal-free 
                        passages on Spiderland. Take that music, and remove 
                        the drums and, for the most part, bass, leaving only the 
                        subdued interlocking arpeggiating guitars, make a whole 
                        album of it, and you've got this CD. Actually, a more 
                        appropriate Lousville model would be Rodan and their track 
                        "Silver Bible Corner," and if you don't know Rodan you 
                        should get their only full-length album Rusty before 
                        (or, if you're not as omnivorous as I, instead of) this 
                        Meisha album anyway. That sort of gives the review away, 
                        but what the hey. It's definitely not a bad CD; their 
                        music has certainly been honed into a substantial shape, 
                        and I can see it having meditative/cogitative/relaxing 
                        applications for many folks in the right situations. And 
                        it sounds good to me when on track 6 the constantly tensing 
                        and arpeggiating guitars finally give way into free-form 
                        distorto noise-destruction. It's a rather thrilling moment, 
                        a fine metaphor for freedom only after asceticism (hick 
                        translation: work before play). The axes grind out a combined 
                        dense, close frequency, like one group-mind on one path, 
                        and for awhile there, you think the album's gonna make 
                        it…but alas, the noise section too eventually seems to 
                        lose some momentum. To their credit, this album was recorded 
                        in 1996, and I wouldn't doubt that they've since improved 
                        on its distinct possibilites. I got the Meisha 
                        CD straight from the band at a show they played in Omaha 
                        at the Gunboat venue….well, 
                        actually, a show in Omaha by a side project of theirs 
                        called Arco Flute Foundation.
  In 
                        Omaha, the AFF performed an extremely well thought-out, 
                        slow-developing set of, you know, 'higher-key trance psychedelica' 
                        through the use of three electric guitars and a propulsive, 
                        spacious drummer. To hear these electric guitars slowly 
                        massing and releasing in melodic chordal waves for an 
                        extended period of time right in front of me in the candle-lit 
                        and hushed basement underneath an Omaha boho house party 
                        was damn near too much (of a good thing). After 20-30 
                        minutes of uninteruppted music, they even stopped playing 
                        and broke into rounds of drone-singing, the first use 
                        of vocal cords in their performance, and each time their 
                        breath ran out it was punctuated by a short round of clattering 
                        improv. At that point, 
                        they had officially made the basement at Gunboat their 
                        own temple space. The crowd was rapt. I wanted a CD, and 
                        I got one, and it's got some good sheets-of-overtones 
                        space-rock grooves, but it just doesn't quite live up 
                        to the show. To its credit, it doesn't really try…but 
                        I kinda wish it did. They have a newer LP out that I saw 
                        get a good review. It's got hand-painted covers…maybe 
                        you should check it out. Or at least see 'em live…they 
                        tour quite a bit.
 MEAT PUPPETS: II LP 
                        (SST)
  Truly 
                        the best Meat Puppets album ever. Side One is so beautiful. 
                        Six fully realized songs but the whole thing only lasts 
                        17 minutes. It doesn't even matter what Side Two sounds 
                        like, because Side One is so good that Meat Puppets 
                        II gets desert island status for it alone. It bursts out of the gate 
                        with "Split Myself In Two," one of the only real punk-ish 
                        hardcore-ish raveups on the whole album. The followup 
                        is "Magic Toy Missing", a 1:20 instrumental 
                        two-step, great both as a song and, due to its brevity, 
                        as a cutesy little bow after the crazed opener. Somehow, 
                        as desert-baked and crazy as they always were, the Meat 
                        Puppets always remained cute. Even as they make noise 
                        and howl/mumble weird surrealisms, they clearly aim to 
                        make the listener smile here and there, and maybe even 
                        laugh. Even their band name, an 
                        image at once creepy and playful, represents 
                        this strange dichotomy.
 Track three is "Lost," 
                        as in "lost on the freeway again…lost on the freeway again…", 
                        covered by the Minutemen, which was how I first heard 
                        it. "Lost" is one of their sweetest country 
                        numbers, though as usual the lyrics are ripe with ominous 
                        metaphor. And the next song seems to represent some sort 
                        of dead-end up ahead, on the freeway, just over the horizon, 
                        a "Plateau" where there's "nothin' at the top but 
                        a bucket and a mop, and an illustrated book about birds..." 
                        Spooky, but not really, a dirgey ballad that was made 
                        'almost famous' by Nirvana on the MTV Unplugged 
                        show.
 Without 
                        missing a beat, "Plateau" segues into one of the best 
                        rock instrumentals of all time (including anything by 
                        The Shadows and The Ventures), "Aurora Borealis," a mysterio 
                        desert-funk number that basically teases you through its 
                        ever-circular chord changes. After these 5 songs you're 
                        thinking "Enough! It's great already! Just let me 
                        flip over the side!" But there's one more song, "We're 
                        Here," and whaddaya know, it's one of their very best 
                        songs ever, a lush quiet little dream-song, not a ballad 
                        really, because it's got this quiet but insistent backbeat 
                        to it.
 Okay, 
                        even if we don't need to, let's check out Side Two anyway 
                        (we'll save time and make it one paragraph): "Climb, climb, 
                        I always climb out of bed in the morning on a mountain 
                        made of sand and i know this doesn't rhyme but the clutter 
                        on the table has been getting out of hand …" is how it 
                        starts, which is...a motto for tackling another side, 
                        I suppose. "New Gods" (track two on side two) 
                        is the second raveup on here ("Split Myself In Two" 
                        was the first), though still strangely lazy thanks to 
                        this trio's particular lazy magic and Spot's lazily magical 
                        recording/production. The unassumingly titled "Oh 
                        Me" is a stone-cold classic, a song I wouldn't be 
                        afraid to call the Puppets' finest three minutes. The 
                        verses take a chill and loping path similar to "Plateau/Aurora 
                        Borealis," building into a triumphant chorus where 
                        C. Kirkwood exclaims "I can't see! the end of me!...my 
                        whole expanse I cannot see...I formulate infinity, and 
                        store it deep inside of me." Next is another song 
                        Nirvana almost made famous, "Lake of Fire," 
                        and it takes about 5 seconds for anyone to tell that the 
                        M. Pups version is superior. Where Nirvana seemed to make 
                        it an 'epic' 2:56 as a bouncy quasi-cool jazz number, 
                        the Pups somehow take a full minute off the running time 
                        by playing it as an even slower anguished fiery dirge. 
                        When Kirkwood laments that "I knew a lady who lived 
                        in Duluth / who was bit by a dog with a rabid tooth" 
                        it might be kinda cute and cuddly but when he follows 
                        it up with "but she went to her grave a little too 
                        soon / and she flew away howling at the yellow moon" 
                        it starts to get tense and ill all over again. (That cute/tense 
                        cuddly/ill dichotomy again.) The next song might ease 
                        you out of it: "I'm A Mindless Idiot", this album's third 
                        great instrumental, which seems to say that being an idiot 
                        and igoring the trauma, the 'lake of fire,' is indeed 
                        bliss, as the music is jaunty and 'uplifting' again, country-rock 
                        done sweet instead of anguished. After the mad loud hardcore 
                        mess of their self-titled debut, I don't know how the 
                        Puppets were so successful at consistently sounding sweet 
                        on this album, especially when their young acid punk agitation 
                        and dissipation can still be heard in the wasted vocals 
                        and lyrics.
 Despite or 
                        because of the agitation and dissipation, I love every 
                        single track on this album. The first one that might remotely 
                        be a step back is the 
                        very last track, "The Whistling Song", with its undermotivated 
                        trad-jazz stylings. But by the time it's over, they've 
                        caught back up to speed, saved by a perfectly laid-back 
                        whistling solo and again, the Spot-engineered ambience 
                        that permeates the whole LP. Um, thumbs up?
 LINKS:A 
                        great Meat Puppets site
 CHEAP TRICK: Heaven 
                        Tonight LP (EPIC) 
  Robin 
                        Zander had, and probably still has, one of the great rock 
                        and roll voices. He can invoke every generation of rock'n'roll 
                        and fully assimilate into his own rockin' present; the 
                        Elvis hiccup, the sweet Beatles croon, the coked-out Ziggy 
                        zombie (with a certain hollowness in his voice at times), 
                        and even an Iggy/Joey-worthy punk sneer. (Just check "Surrender," 
                        especially the Live at Budakon version.) Rick Neilsen 
                        writes what can only be called "killer hooks" 
                        after killer hook after killer hook. With Tom Petersson 
                        and Bun E. Carlos they rock these tunes out with one of 
                        the great rock band images, some sort of true cartoon-glam 
                        'raw power' pop explosion. In Color 
                        (1977) was the album that brought this band image 
                        into superstardom (it started in Japan). On Heaven 
                        Tonight, their 1978 followup, it already sounds like 
                        they're pulling back a little, getting a little stranger. 
                        It has the original studio version of "Surrender," 
                        which sounds pretty vapid when you're so used to the rollicking 
                        Live at Budakon version we all know from mersh 
                        radio. (Same as In Color's studio version of the 
                        legendary "I Want You To Want Me".) But really, 
                        the whole album kind of has that airless late-seventies 
                        production (by Tom Werman, as on all but one of their 
                        first four studio albums) which combines with the often 
                        dark subject matter of the songs to make for a slightly 
                        unsettling pop-rock experience. Only slightly, but still 
                        noticeably more cynical and challenging than the hit-packed 
                        In Color.
 For example, side 
                        one closer "Auf Wiedersehen" means "goodbye" 
                        as in goodbye to your life, as in suicide, or homicide, 
                        or maybe it just means nihilism (goodbye to everything). 
                        Confusing matters is the fact that it's a great nervy 
                        punk song with about 3 or 4 separate great hooks. For 
                        another example, there's the title track (side two, cut 
                        three), a dirging ballad for which Zander invokes his 
                        most coked-out glam rock zombie ever, in fact singing 
                        about being coked-out, nearly monotone as he so slowly 
                        sings "downed...the line...couldn't get much....couldn't 
                        get much higher if you tried....and tried...don't go over....there's 
                        a limit....you went over..." Dark? Cynical? Challenging? 
                        Hell, it's terrifying. And the song is deathly beautiful, 
                        like Nico adapting the endless rideout of "I Want 
                        You (She's So Heavy)".
 Dark or not, there 
                        are a lot of great songs on here. Even when vapidly produced 
                        (whatever that might mean), you gotta love "Surrender," 
                        and the stunning "Auf Wiedersehen", and there's 
                        also the weirdly swaggering, exquisitely chorused "High 
                        Roller," the frantic/romantic "On Top Of The 
                        World" with its extended psych take on "Peter 
                        Gunn", and the heavy cover of The Move's "California 
                        Man" (for the record, I haven't heard the original). 
                        "Takin' Me Back (Long Time Ago)" has got tons 
                        of great hooks as well; in fact, a few too many, and the 
                        song ends up feeling overstuffed, and somewhat shrill 
                        and wearying. (See, it's even got two titles.) The kitschy 
                        "On The Radio" threatens to go down a similar 
                        path, but somehow remains charming, even during a faux 
                        radio announcer bit that could've come out of some theoretical 
                        late-period Eric Carmen song produced by Jim Steinman.
 I've already referred to the terrifying grandeur of the 
                        title track, but for the album's last two songs, something 
                        seems to slip a little. LP closer "How Are You?" 
                        is a weird one...a bouncy little trifle so clearly meant 
                        to cash in on In Color's "I Want You To Want 
                        Me" that the last verse even quotes said song only 
                        one year after its success! ("Remember?" asks 
                        Zander outright.) "Stiff Competition", the second-to-last 
                        song, is a rousingly anthemic big riff rocker. Zander 
                        and Nielsen do a nice bratty vocal harmony over the big-riff 
                        wall o'rock, but something seems to be a little detached, 
                        kinda hollow. Don't get me wrong, it's easily redeemed 
                        by the exquisite bridge-thing, a switch to baroque ballad 
                        mode, Zander intoning that he "looked hard in your 
                        eyes...it was love at first sight...it took me minutes...you're 
                        still waiting...waiting for your turn...it won't be long". 
                        Still, it winds its way back into the big-riff, as if 
                        by rote, and it remains strangely airless, like I'm starting 
                        to hear traces of the so-so late 80s Cheap Trick of Standing 
                        on the Edge and The Doctor, and even, in "How 
                        Are You?", the Cheap Trick that went down so easy 
                        to the masses with their cheesy cover version of "Don't 
                        Be Cruel", when Zander's Elvis hiccup was made too 
                        literal with too much kitsch simplicity. I dunno, Heaven 
                        Tonight is a weird one, a difficult but great but 
                        difficult pop rock album by a great pop rock band who 
                        were starting to show quirks/cracks/
 growing pains.
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