Heard Here

Machine Gun in the Clown’s Hand, Jello Biafra

This three disc spoken word effort from the former Dead Kennedys singer was released last year but remains relevant, especially as we enter what the more cynical of us would term “global nuclear Armageddon at the hands of a glorified wannabe cowboy.” But before the Mad-Max -style, post-apocalyptic dune buggy battles become a reality, we, at least, have people like Jello Biafra articulating what most Oberlin students already know: the President is an idiot, corporate corruption has gotten out of control, war is being pushed down our throats as “patriotic,” and people are justifiably scared to say anything for fear of being accused of sympathizing with terrorists.
And that’s just the first five minutes.
At three albums long, this can get a little repetitive and such an overload of material detailing just how much America is going to hell in a hand-basket isn’t quite as peppy as a Joy Division album, but it is refreshing to hear someone voice something well that you won’t hear on CNN. The one drawback is that most people who would have heard of Biafra probably already feel the way he does, and this album definitely deserves a wider audience. The association with punk rock may put off some potentially valuable allies to this sort of politics, but this is definitely worth a listen for anyone who is not satisfied with the current American political situation. Biafra also keeps it lively with more personal anecdotes, especially the final track on disc three about his personal experience with the late, great Joey Ramone and his adventures in Colorado during the worst decade in American popular music (bad seventies rock is also another harbinger of the coming of the four horsemen). When Road Warriors in blood-stained hockey masks knock on your door, don’t say Jello didn’t warn you.

—Derek Schleelein

Looks at the Bird, Brokeback

If there’s any city whose underground music scene is deserving of the label “incestuous,” it would have to be Chicago. Thrill Jockey Records, the windy city’s crowning jewel, seems somehow able boast twice as many bands as it can musicians. Chicago is home to a unique rock sound that is as immediately recognizable to those familiar with it, but hard to pin down with one of pop music’s increasingly inadequate labels. The city has made a habit of swapping and borrowing members to produce what has remained consistently progressive and artful pop. But though the texture of their often instrumental music is of a certain, nameless genre, circumscribing bands like Tortoise, Pullman, the Sea and Cake, and Chicago Underground. Labels such as “avant-jazz” or “post-rock” just don’t cut it.
Enter Brokeback, the creation of seminal Tortoise, Eleventh Day Dream, (and, of late, Pullman) bassist, Douglas McCombs. Their new album Looks at the Bird, though unmistakably Chicago, has precious little to perk the ears of any but the most ardent Thrill Jockey fans. Rather than “post-jazz” or “experimental,” it would probably be better described as “lame” or “lacking.”
The sparklingly clean, jazzy textures reminds one instantly of any Tortoise record, and with McCombs’ Bass 6 at the forefront playing the kind of asymmetrical, arhythmic, nearly atonal melodies he made famous with his more well-known band, it’s hard to imagine McCombs’ group as much more then half of Tortoise. (Brokeback even went so far on “Looks at the Bird” to include a remixed version of Tortoise’s “Suspension Bridge at Iguazu Falls” from their classic album “TNT.”)
But what saves Brokeback from being tossed aside as just another Tortoise side project, and a lesser one at that, is the magnificently buoyant vocal contributions from Mary Hansen and Laetitia Sadier. “Name’s Winston, Friends Call Me James,” “Pearl’s Dream” and “In the Reeds” are both excellently constructed art pop documents. Within the latter’s pastel-lounge groove especially, Hansen’s haunting harmonies make the plastic melt off your couch and the gin bubble in your martini glass.
Unfortunately, where the vocals are lacking, so is most of the interest. Though McCombs and Noel Kuperman, the double bassist sharing songwriting credits on the new record, have a real knack for melody, McCombs’ work is suited better within the confines of Tortoise’s more robust sound. Much of Looks at the Bird just sounds tinny and superficial – something most Chicago bands have avoided with panache.

—John McDonald