Did I miss something? Is it 1966 again? I hope so, because I’m in California and that would mean surf movies, those classic cars with wood paneling on the sides, Epiphone 335 guitars that actually sound good, and that innocence heard in music before we all became jaded and pissed at our government, scoffing at the American dream. Well, somehow The Morning Benders have stayed pure, untainted by the scum that infects a good deal of our current music. Maybe they don’t own a television or maybe they skip the world news section in their daily newspaper reading.

Whatever the case, Loose Change is a breath of fresh California air. This seven song EP, recorded in the group's hometown of Berkeley with one bare-bones microphone and a small laptop computer setup, is an amazing accomplishment for just a year-old band. The songs were recorded as demos and odds and ends, hence the name, Loose Change. These are simply great songs pooled together to form a simple, yet fantastic record. The album doesn’t boast fancy production, synths, or techno beats, and there are moments where you can hear singer Chris Chu’s vocals bouncing off of the house’s bare walls. Yet it’s this completely charming low-fi recording, full of dynamic organic sounds, that makes the album so pleasing to the ear.

Written beautifully in a 60’s California-pop style similar to The Beach Boys, each track boasts shimmering vocals, driving vintage drums, and complex vocal harmonies. But that’s just the surface of Loose Change. Though TMB have channeled New York-style rapid phrasing (most universally identified via The Strokes), they have still managed to find their own voice. Loose Change is mostly a fun and lighthearted listen, with songs urging you to not take them too seriously and pining for a, to quote track two, “fancy and free” life, but there are also moments of sincere heartache and introspection.

If The Morning Benders sound was compared strictly to The Beach Boys cannon, I'd have to say that Loose Change sounds most similar to the rough-around-the-edges but inspired classic, Smiley Smile. Though a commercial failure at the time, in hindsight, Smiley Smile is considered by many as one of the Beach Boys' most unique works. A raw, eerie psychedelic glimpse into the darker recesses of Brian Wilson's brain, the album was decades later exemplified by the more polished re-mastered original work, Smile. Though Loose Change is strictly a home-grown recording, my guess is that TMB also have some pristine production talent in their blood. Their next steps perhaps will work in what I like to call RBBCO, that is “Reverse Beach Boys Chronological Order,” to produce their wall of sound, Pet Sounds-esqe sonic masterpiece. Hopefully, we won't have to wait three decades.

Though each track on Loose Change is of stellar quality, the song “Grain of Salt” has received the most praise and attention, and it is deserving of the hype. It’s a jolly jaunt through classic Californian pop-lore, with a driving beat that would have any mop-topped surfboard-hauling youth sporting dark shades, coastline-cruising in their classic “woody” car, tapping every available finger and body part on steering wheels, doors, and mirrors. The first line of the song, “Take my heart with a grain of salt, it’s been broken but it’s nobody’s fault,” perfectly sets the pace of the EP (and perhaps the records to follow). The pumped-up vocals soar on the line, “Now I have to go back to that place I know best / But I’m happy this time, I know that, this love is mine,” over an innocent, almost tongue-in-cheek bed of retro “yeah, yeah, yeah’s.” (Minus the Karen O’s.)

Loose Change ends with the song, “Morning Fog,” a sweet lullaby with a loose and steadily strummed acoustic guitar and soft bass accompaniment. Chu wistfully sings, “My old friend, where have you gone / hopped on the bus in the morning fog. Don’t be gone too long / I’ll stay near the phone / ‘til I hear the steps bringing you back home / now that I’m alone / I can finally say / the words that wouldn’t come any other way.” A beautiful slide guitar moves through the bridge, and the song ends with a gorgeous, perfectly-timed fade out.

So just how did this young group of Golden State virtuosos maintain their artistic purity on Loose Change? Was it a conscious rejection of pop media junk, or just their way? However they did it, thank God for The Morning Benders for providing a new soundtrack to some hot summer days and articulating all that is vital in young life in California.

--Part Swedish Chris

Release Date: September 18, 2006

The Morning Benders' Website

Self-indulgent, uneven, and utterly improper. Oh crap, it’s that most dreaded of all musical chestnuts: the SUPERGROUP!! It’s one of my pet peeves. Merging talented musicians together makes sense on paper, but we all know it often stinks of corporate cash cow. These “bands” lack any hunger to make a good album: people will buy the record out of intrigue regardless, so what is actually recorded doesn’t really matter. It’s only a side project, after all. I braced myself for a negative review.

Thankfully, my fears were completely misplaced. After one listen it’s clear that Another Fine Day was not created for any of the aforementioned cynical reasons. It’s just a bunch of talented musicians jamming out together. Consisting of elements from Wilco (the talismanic Jeff Tweedy), The Jayhawks (Gary Louris, Marc Perlman), Soul Asylum (Dan Murphy), and Run Westy Run (Kraig Johnson), this is one “supergroup” that actually lives up to the billing.

Golden Smog escape the trappings of the supergroup moniker by showing an obvious love for playing with each another. They seem to lack any fear of making a bad album, which allows them to be both relaxed and experimental. Testament to this was their decision to record half of the album in a location where nobody spoke English. Much like Josh Homme’s Desert Sessions, which lured musicians away from LA and into the Californian abyss, Golden Smog retreated to Puerto Santa Maria, Spain. Away from intrusive executives and producers, free from the shackles of major label expectation and overproduction, Tweedy et al can be heard in their most natural, pure state. This is alt-country rock stripped down to its most bare bones.

Another Fine Day begins fantastically, with “You Make It Easy” proving to be a beautiful song. It manages to be at once melodic and menacing, before it spirals off into a lovely, yawning fade. The opening track offers a reassuring start to the first Smog album in eight years, instantly assuaging any fears fans may have had about a changing direction of the band. Combined with the delay between albums, this is their first release since Wilco’s ascension to “it” band status and the (rumored) Jayhawks’ break-up. But these external forces prove irrelevant to the amiable sound of what is essentially five guys playing music that they truly love playing.

The return of the Minneapolis five-piece actually came about in far less romantic settings. Founding member Marc Pearlman got a call from Guy Richie in 2004 to pen the music for a car advert he was directing. Although the advert was quickly banned (conservative spoilsports complained about it showing a nine year-old boy joy riding), Corvette sowed the seed for the Smog’s latest album. The song is vintage power pop, played with an exuberance that contradicts their many years in the business. The chorus, “The dream is never over/Gonna blow your mind again/Like the first time,” explicitly exposes their excitement at playing together again. It’s a reunion of old friends. You almost get visions of “Brokeback Mountain”, with each Smogger sneaking away from their full-time band to barren lands to reignite an old flame they can’t quit.

But I guess it’s wrong to refer to this as a ‘comeback’ album. A band as elusive as Golden Smog cannot be perceived as ever really existing, and so can’t really have ever been away. Rather, it seems they form whenever the collective have an itch that can’t be scratched by their full time bands. Their name is quite fitting. Smog turns up out of nowhere, unannounced and can come and go in an instant. Wherever they’re going, one thing about the Smog is clear. They truly are a supergroup.

--Matthew Reville

Release Date: July 18, 2006

Golden Smog's Website (Needs Updating)

Golden Smog's Myspace

On the face of it, Aberfeldy are the sort of band every dad wants his daughter to meet. They’re friendly. They’re upbeat. They’re Brian Wilson’s sunny pop tunes without the B-side dark ballads. But a closer listen to Do What Turns You On reveals a hidden selfish (yet somehow endearing) outlook on modern life.

There has always been a harsh, untrusting edge to these seemingly jovial indie-folksters. If you’ve not seen it yet, check out the superbly demoralizing ending to 2004’s “Love is An Arrow” video on youtube. On their sophomore album, however, fear of heartbreak has been replaced by a more carefree, “fuck the rest of the world and live for yourself” attitude. Despite these changes, the quality of their music hasn’t dropped since the release of their debut album, (which was rated 9/10 by NME). So don’t feel shy in accepting (the wonderfully named) vocalist Riley Briggs’ invitation to join him in him whatever turns you on. Although mummy and daddy may not approve, boy is it a fun ride.

Thankfully this is no Blink 182 frat-fest. The aphrodisiac isn’t beer, breasts or boners. The Scottish five-piece’s message is more metaphorical. Overwhelmingly cynical of blind followers of fashion, they plead that the listener move away from the flock and decide how to live life on one’s own terms. Never is this clearer than on “All True Trendies,” where Briggs states, “We could take this town tonight/ But I doubt it would be worth the fight/ All true trendies sail with me/ Leave your friends and family/ Do it now!!”. Aberfeldy subscribe to the ideology that if the ladder is not leaning against the right window, every rung you climb just gets you to the wrong place faster.

Do Whatever Turns You On also pours scorn on those who scale their ladder in a way to impress others. Standout track “1970s,” rivals any emo band’s hatred of phonies, and does so in two and a half minutes of ironic hand-clapping pop. “You dress as if it’s the 1970s/ You say ‘far out, man’ but you don’t know what it means /I don’t think I can be friends/ With someone like you that pretends,” is a clever social commentary kept simple and void of pretension. Take note, Mr. Yorke!

But this album is more of a quarter-life crisis than a full-on breakdown caused by society and its norms. Briggs’ most cynical lyrics are softened by the beautiful harmonies provided by female bandmates Sarah McFayden and Ruth Barrie. Aberfeldy compliment zooming keyboards and looping guitars with traditional Celtic (fiddle, mandolin and glockenspiel) to take you on a musical journey unlike one you’ve likely been on before. In the world of of indie-folk chamber music, you’d have to look far and wide for a better chill-out album.

It’s ultimately upbeat and inspirational. Though “Never Give Up” may be a song specifically about the band (rightly) bemoaning their lack of commercial success (“Take a look around you/ So many famous people less talented than me”), it is instantly applicable to any individual who plods along when he knows he could be soaring. Again, the band implores you not to move the ladder to a window you don’t want to reach. Although you might not achieve all you want to, it’s better to fail doing what you love than succeed doing what you hate. Just stick with what turns you on.

The album is not so much anarchic as it is emancipating. Aberfeldy urge the listener to get out and do whatever they feel like doing. It’s a positive, amiable message, but comes at the expense of social norms and the expectations of friends and family. So they’re not quite the band to invite on a country retreat with your folks. In the morning, don’t be surprised to find that they’ve snuck out the back door… with your mom’s wedding ring.

--Matthew Reville

Release Date: July 3, 2006 (UK)

Aberfeldy's Website

When I first started reading up on this group, warning buzzers went off. Hope of the States have one of those phrase-band names (and one of those cutesy acronyms, “HOTS”) that sound eerily similar to groups such as Fall Out Boy, Saves the Day, and Taking Back Sunday - all bands which I despise. Dread began to build that HOTS might be yet another whiney emo band hidden under a gauzy layer of generic modern rock. Just look at their promo picture: six hipster lads, long stringy hair, asymmetrical haircuts, too- tight pants, SCARVES. All of them… in SCARVES. (And yes, if you're wondering, I chose a slightly more flattering picture to post on this website.) Ok. I took a deep breath, mentally prepared myself for impending schlockiness, and gave their album a spin.

Man, was I in for a surprise! This was Supergrass meets Oasis mixed with a dollop of epic drama and a heaping spoonful of moody politicizing. Whispering strings here, tinny glockenspiel there, why even an entire Russian men’s choir made an appearance. Though I was impressed upon first listen, and thrilled to have successfully avoided emo clichés and schlocky rocking, I do have a few qualms with the album. Though it is, for the most part, sincere, original, and catchy, the band occasionally leans toward familiar verse-chorus-verse tactics in an effort to appeal as many people as possible. HOTS are relatively unknown in the states, but have found a strong following thanks to the strength of their independently released debut, The Lost Riots. As a result, they signed to Sony/ BMG, and released their last EP as well as Left with major label backing. Perhaps Sony told them to be a little less Godspeed You Black Emperor! and a little more Interpol/ Coldplay. In any case, Left hits the target far more often than it misses, and is certainly worth a listen.

Remember my issues with bands with phrase names? Perhaps I was too quick to judge. Closer inspection revealed that Hope of the States were actually named for Albert Deutsch’s novel, The Shame of the States, a critique on the abysmal state of the US mental health system in the 40’s. The well-read sextet seem fond of naming things after books, as a number of tracks from both The Lost Riots and Left make mention of politically-charged print media.

“Blood Meridian,” the title track off of last year’s EP, is named for a novel of the same name by Cormac McCarthy, which explores the violent nature of man and examines war as a form of religion. In the song, “Blood Meridian,” lead singer Sam Herlihy opines, “Emergency! Emergency! Someone meant every word he said. Beat him up, lock him up, throw away the key. Never let it happen again.” Part political diatribe, part homage to McCarthy’s exploration of man, the driving melodic rock that frames the song belies its serious intent.

On a slightly more lighthearted note, there’s “Four,” a tale of fantasy rebellion against the powers that be. It’s a rock-n-roll proletariat in action, and it’s sounds suspiciously like something Supergrass might have come up with. It’s also one of my favorite tracks on the album.

“The Church Choir,” another ear-catching track, is a bittersweet ballad dedicated to the passing of life, and the somber songs sung in churches (funerals). It’s an homage perhaps to the band’s loss of original guitarist, James Lawrence, who committed suicide shortly after the band finished recording The Lost Riots. To achieve the haunting quality of the track, parts of “The Church Choir” and “The Good Fight” were recorded in a cathedral in Prague with a fifteen person Russian choir. None of the members of the choir spoke English, so lyrics had to be translated phonetically into the Russian alphabet. Though the choir merely serves as an ethereal backdrop in “The Church Choir,” it’s a prominent fixture in “The Good Fight,” proudly announcing a march to battle.

Hope of the States are not a subtle band. They are proud to hit you over the head with commentary on life, death, and politics, though they prefer to cloak their messages in pretty pop and melodic rock. At their best, they provide interesting insight and catchy hooks, and at their worst they fall prey to modern rock clichés and annoying political posturing. For the most part, however, their romanticism and call to rebellion is more endearing than off-putting. In fact, they seem to make the greatest impact without saying a word. Just listen to the crescendoing strings on “The Good Fight” and the instrumental beauty of “Seconds,” which is set to the rhythm of a human heartbeat, and you’ll understand.

--Courtney Wachs

Release Date: June 27, 2006

Hope of the States Website