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Month: July 2011

Horizon: Afterlife Parade

Published July 6, 2011 by Stephen Carradini

Subtlety is not an prized element in Afterlife Parade‘s Death. Still, Quinn Erwin is a surprisingly versatile songwriter for a guy who gives us two title tracks and labels his introduction “Fate: An Introduction.”

After the 41-second intro (“Can’t run, can’t hide, the light is gonna come for you!”), “Death” arrives. The first title track is a complex, affair that unfolds in multiple parts, as the song builds from an ominous acoustic riff to a full-band roar in its four minutes. While it gives a good feature to his emotive tenor, it’s not the most memorable of his tunes.

“Nothing But Love Can Stay” is his best, however, because he eschews subtlety and build for an excellent hook against a stark piano line. It may be uncool to be earnest, but Erwin sounds his best when he’s matching Chris Mills blow for blow in evocative imagery and downtrodden melodies. It’s far more memorable than the opener. It builds to a huge crescendo as well, and I wish it didn’t.

“Arrows Fly” is another eerie track, but this one doesn’t crescendo as much, letting Erwin’s voice do the heavy lifting. The starker Afterlife Parade’s material is, the easier it is to connect with; I’m sure it’s fun to rock (and he’s not bad at it), but the rock pales to faceless when compared to the strength of his weary voice and sweeping melodies. Still, 7-minute mellow songs are tough to pull off, which is why “Simple” gets a bit tedious.

The left hook, however, is the other title track, “Afterlife Parade.” It’s a Springsteen-esque rocker that sounds quite fresh with Erwin’s vocals fronting it. Then the “whoa-oh” chorus hits, and you’d be forgiven for forgetting what the rest of the EP sounds like — just like when the mellow work outpaced the complex opener nigh on 15 minutes earlier. The horns, stomping and clapping only solidify it.

Afterlife Parade’s Death is an extremely intriguing introduction to a songwriter, but it leaves a lot of questions hanging out there. Where will he go from here? Will we get more of this variety? Will he stick to one path and cultivate it, perhaps making more beautiful “Nothing But Love Can Stay”-style tracks or rousing “Afterlife Parade”s? Who knows. There’s a lot of puzzle pieces in this release, but the picture can’t be put together yet.

David Ramirez hits the singer/songwriter trifecta

Published July 5, 2011 by Stephen Carradini

There’s three basic parts of Damien Rice’s sound: moving songwriting, evocative lyrics and an untamed caterwaul. That occasionally grating third element is what keeps Rice’s fanbase from growing or shrinking. If there was an artist who captured the first two elements in a similar way, but toned down the roaring, I’d put big bets on that guy to be big.

I’m going to Vegas on David Ramirez.

The acoustic guitar-playing Texan’s easygoing voice can get intense, as in the climax of “Argue With Heaven,” but it never gets abrasive. You can tell David Ramirez is all-in, but he’s not reckless. That element of control makes “Argue With Heaven” a powerful, repeatable track.

Three more of the earthy, grounded tunes on his EP Strangetown follow a similar tack; “Wandering Man” is train-whistle roots rock, and while it’s not a fine song, it’s not Ramirez at his finest. That would instead be “Shoeboxes,” which incorporates gentle alt-country fingerpicking to back up his anguished voice.

It’s important to note that his emotions are contributed through tone and inflection in addition to volume. If it’s the voice that makes a songwriter, Ramirez is on the right path; he’s either spent time honing his voice to transmit what he wants or been blessed with a rare set of pipes. Probably both.

“Strange Town” calls up more Rice comparisons in mood and accompaniment, which is welcome. “I Think I Like You” is an easy-going piece that puts a lot of gravitas into that simple sentiment; in that vein, consider the weight he can assign to lyrics that have standalone dramatic import, like ruminations over mementos and memories of a lost love on “Shoeboxes.”

David Ramirez has the trifecta going for him: engaging music, mesmerizing vocals and poignant lyrics. If you’re a fan of singer/songwriters, Ramirez is in your future, whether right now or when he inevitably gets a larger following. He’s going to hit The Blue Door in OKC Friday night. If I wasn’t playing a show, I’d be there.

Listen to and download “Shoeboxes.”

Quick Hits: Wild Adriatic

Published July 3, 2011 by Stephen Carradini

It never fails. Just about the time I’m about to totally write off rock and roll as a thing of my past, a band comes along and sucks me back in. This time, it’s Wild Adriatic with their The Lion EP.

There’s no way to describe the band except rock and roll. Their songs have huge, distorted, hooky riffs backing up an attitude-filled lead singer. The bass and drums just crush the rhythm/low end. There are unironic guitar solos. The whole thing sounds like if the theatricality of Queen met the bombast of Jane’s Addiction, especially “Lion in Its Cage.” Your head will almost involuntarily bang. Is there any higher praise for rock and rollers?

But there are touches of other rock styles. “By Now” has Southern rock’s flair to it, while “The Writer” appropriates Muse’s arch grandiosity. With only five tracks, there’s no filler to be had on Wild Adriatic’s EP, and that’s always fun to hear. “Your Ways” does tend a little bit too much toward modern rock for my taste, but hey, that’s just me. Rock on, Wild Adriatic. Rock on.

Ringer T's alt-country grows up and gets even more enjoyable

Published July 2, 2011 by Stephen Carradini

Ryan Hendrix of Colourmusic made a good point to me during an interview with his band earlier this year for Oklahoma Gazette.

“I think it’s important for bands to be older,” Hendrix said. “They have more to say, and what they have to say isn’t related to being mad at parents.”

I hadn’t thought much about age/maturity as a factor in making great music, but since then it’s been on my radar. I’ve seen Paul Simon in an entirely different light; I’ve noticed castoff lines in Good News For People Who Love Bad News that wouldn’t have been noted by a younger Modest Mouse. There are evidences of it everywhere. Ringer T‘s Sorry Verses is yet another example.

The releases I’ve reviewed from the Michigan alt-country band have all been heart-wrenching affairs, wringing every ounce of emotion out of the travails of young love. Their pristine production values and tight songwriting structures honed the misery to a fine point. The most downtrodden of their tunes are right up there with Elliott Smith’s and Damien Jurado’s in the “too sad to listen to more than once in a while” tracks.

Then the band went their own ways for a while, and the time off seems to have been just the thing the members needed. Their regrouped effort is a much brighter, calmer and more enjoyable effort. The songwriting, now freed from the weight of tragedy, is able to be as infectious as it should have been previously. Both the pristine production and tight songwriting have only become more so.

The smooth-toned tenor vocalist isn’t singing too much about lost love, and even when he does, he does it in a way that doesn’t aspire to tear down the walls on himself. Not that these tunes are sparkly indie-pop; this is still firmly alt-county. But there are a lot of Paul Simon touches, like the little strum pattern on “The Easy Road” and just about everything on “Upon a Hill.” It’s Ringer T as I always wanted them to be: they’re making great melodies (“Sorry Verses,” “Here I Am”) in a consistent mood that’s calm and contained. There’s a difference between restraint and restrained, and Ringer T falls firmly on the self-induced, positive, former side for the songs here.

The instrumentation is simple and direct: Acoustic guitar, gentle electric guitar, drums, bass, occasional keys, some auxiliary instruments here and there. Instead of dazzling with the kitchen sink (i.e. Typhoon), Ringer T leans heavily on their formidable songwriting skills. And with their newfound calm and maturity, they crank out some incredible tunes that way.

Sorry Verses has several great mixtape tracks: the poignant “The Sweet Release,” the whoa-ohs of “Sorry Verses,” and the yearning “Let Me Be Your Man.” But it’s best experienced as a whole piece, just like Paul Simon’s best albums. The charms of one song build into the next.

Growing up some gives perspective and allows people to see all that they do in a new light. Whether people grow or fold in that instance is the difference between a success story and an also-ran.