Shopping "Vida Loca b/w Cash is Fine" (from Awesometown Records 7" collection) by Vincent Dee Indie rock used to be more personal. It used to be: send three bucks to a label (usually the owner’s private home), and get that month’s release, sometimes with a handwritten thank-you note, and the occasional freebie; there was no palpable edifice—it was a makeshift industry largely formed by budgetary constraints, regional circumstances, and the relationships that transcended them.

Somewhere along the line college radio, underground zines, and singles clubs became OC tags, multi-million-hit websites, and major corporations—each of which commands the attention of faceless, yet, coiffed millions—none of which is necessarily a bad thing, mind you. But indie rock, by and large, had shared (along with much of its constituency) a general defiance in the face of mainstream rejection, a particular amalgam of resentment and steadfastness. All of this amounted to a subculture, who usually made up for with passion what they lacked in numbers.

But even if that passion subsists, that steadfastness has fallen out of favor in indie rock’s brave new world. Resentment, of course, has gone nowhere.

Pittsburgh’s Awesometown Singles Club, a nascent 7” mail order outfit, headed by Arbor Day & the Victoria Lucas’s Andy Levine, and Pittsburgh’s Jesse Someone-or-other, is a recent venture to promote the crème of the Three Rivers’ crop. The label is something of a conscious throwback to the days of vintage indie: vinyl-only releases by regional artists, one at a time, however anachronistic.

The label’s release “Vida Loca,” by the recently-defunct Shopping (AT-01), sounds like Wire-meets-the-Walkmen, with uninhibited vocals crooning drunkenly over treated electric pianos and forceful, no-nonsense guitars. It’s interesting, challenging, and earnest rock & roll—and at 33rpm, it sounds like the heaviest thing Dinosaur Jr. ever did. The B-side, “Cash is Fine,” is more like progressive rock nowadays—a more down-tempo, spacious atmosphere, chromatic modulations and brooding dynamics; it provides for an interesting diptych, and rounds the single out nicely.
While the demand for a vinyl-only singles club remains questionable—even in the most puritanical sects of indie snobbery—the fact remains: digital distribution, along with the virtual extinction of the turntable, is crippling to any wide-ranging financial success equal to that of their golden-era forerunners. The steadfast owners of the Awesometown Singles Club choose to celebrate and to wear this constraint on their sleeves—or, to print them in their liner notes, as the case may be: “All records four dollars, ppd. Foreign orders, we’ll talk.”

Pure Reason Revolution "The Bright Ambassadors Of Morning" (from upcoming Holograph/ Sony release Cautionary Tales From The Brave) by Darren Paltrowitz For every Keane, there must be at least two Portisheads out there. In other words, major record labels keep signing U.K. artists that seem to care more about making timeless art-rock than hooky pop music. While excellent in principle, this also leads to a lot of six and seven-figure investments that will never see a proper return or recoup; and lord knows that’s what keeps groups like Ash and The Charlatans from having the U.S. record deals they deserve.

In the case of “The Bright Ambassadors of Morning,” by Pure Reason Revolution, the London group’s proper introduction to the States is a one-track single which clocks in at more than 12 minutes. And let it be known that this reviewer would rather hear four great three-minute power-pop tracks than one epic.

While rock and roll purists may denounce that confession as contributing to the problematic status quo of the music industry, it is not necessary for a song to have a long build-up if it is never going to reach an obvious peak, or memorable bridge. Heck, the longest non-Black Sabbath song I can regularly listen to is probably Teenage Fanclub’s “The Concept.”

However, fans of Pink Floyd’s 1970’s output will undoubtedly love “The Bright Ambassadors Of Morning.” The song is electrifying at times and – like Radiohead’s “Paranoid Android” – sounds to be a combination of short songs of various dynamics. In fact, after a second listen to this selection, you may want to ask why Pure Reason Revolution opted to condense all these brilliant ideas and melodies into one song, when such could be extracted and expanded into an exciting, original full-length album instead. Perhaps even 12 four-minute songs.

As modern rock radio doesn’t play epic-songs – although it would be great to hear “Alice’s Restaurant” on K-Rock – and successful bands are generally reluctant to take out artists whose musicianship may overshadow theirs, it will be interesting to see how a band like Pure Reason Revolution is marketed in the United States. And with September 26th bringing us Cautionary Tales For The Brave, a “mini-album” from PRR, time will tell whether they are the next Pink Floyd, or yet another act going the way of The Coral.
Stay tuned…

The White Stripes "Blue Orchid" (from upcoming V2 release Get Behind Me, Satan) by Joe E. Rosewater Over the course of six years and four albums, The White Stripes got famous by stripping rock down to its skivvies and stomping it into a mudhole. Of course, it wouldn't have amounted to a hill o' beans if Jack's lyrics weren't as brilliant as they usually are, or if he couldn't alchemize his simple guitar licks from Led into napalm, or if his voice didn't quiver like a 90 year-old woman before the Grim Reaper. I love Meg White, and often fantasize about her and myself giving birth to beautiful baby drummers, but if she were in any other band, I doubt any of us would know who she is.

"Blue Orchid," the opening track and lead single from the Stripes' forthcoming fifth album Get Behind Me, Satan, merely hints at the band's greatness. If it were a movie trailer, they'd call it a "teaser"- the kind that tries to create anticipation but doesn't show any high-octane clips from the actual film. Bits of innovation (by White Stripes standards at least) pop up, like the whooshing sounds that creep in and suddenly cut out, and a couple of "hoo!"s that may support those Michael Jackson comparisons, but they're few and far between. For the most part, Meg is Meg (crash-thump-thump-thump-crash), and Jack milks a killer riff and its twin vocal for two and a half minutes. You keep waiting for him to take the repetitive riff and launch it into the stratosphere, the way he does during the solo of the Stripes' previous chorus-less lead single, "Seven Nation Army," but he refuses to make any major variations. And while the lyrics possess the heartbroken viciousness we've come to expect, they lack Jack's trademark vivid imagery and prodigious wit ("You got a reaction, didn't you? You took a white orchid, turned it blue/ How dare you? How old are you now, anyway?").

I should reiterate, however, how killer that riff is. It's strong enough to carry the song, and the song itself isn't a bad way to open an album- except, perhaps, when the album in question is as eagerly anticipated as Get Behind Me, Satan.

Eminem "Just Lose It" (from upcoming Aftermath release Encore) by Joe E. Rosewater Guess who's back, back again, lazily pasting the opening hook from "Without Me" into the intro of his latest single, and not showing much signs of freshness after that? It's not that self-reference is necessarily a bad thing- in hip-hop it's practically a pre-requisite- nor is it disappointing that Eminem baits yet another album with a blatant stab at club rotation. But if Shady's back, why should we tell a friend when he's barely going through the motions over a track with hooks that sound programmed by Casio?

"What could I possibly do to make noise?/I've touched on everything but little boys." Maybe the rest of his new album tells a different story, but I can think of a few topics he could skewer other than Michael Jackson. Even another Ja Rule dis would be welcome at this point. "I'm just psycho/I go a little bit crazy sometimes/I get a little bit out of control with my rhymes." I remember some of those times; unfortunately they remain on his first three LPs. Even as we breathe a sigh of relief that he's apparently over his mother-bashing, and grin while he pokes fun at his homophobia ("Yeah, boy, shake that ass/Whoops, I mean girl/Girl, girl, girl"), it's hard to stifle the groan reflex from the flat fart jokes, the dispassionate performance, and the nagging feeling that this once provocative MC may have just lost the plot. - OB

The Dresden Dolls - "Girl Anachronism" (The Dresden Dolls, 8 ft. Records) by Joe E. Rosewater Download for free! Click Here Amanda Palmer, lead vocalist/pianist of The Dresden Dolls, has me convinced she's a simmering sociopath, or was one in a former life, with "Girl Anachronism." It's attention seeking psychodrama of the most manic degree, with the kind of wicked, deadpan lyrics and bombastic comic delivery Marshall Mathers used to be famous for spitting:

("I don't necessarily/believe there is a cure for this/so I might join your century/but only as a doubtful guest/I was too precarious/removed as a caesarian/behold the world's worst accident/I am the girl anachronism!"). (Of course it's not hip-hop, though, they call it "punk cabaret," and with good cause.) Even if a cartoonish portrait of a human train wreck isn't your idea of entertainment, it's hard not to be fascinated by Palmer's performance- she nails every tic, yelp, and multiple personality, all while her menacing piano bash clings desperately for dear sanity to Brian Viglione's whiplashing drums. - OB