sunshine and geeks

Summer time arrives once again to enliven the bleak mood of my co-conspirators and yours truly. A heatwave fails to anger me, as it forces positive change. Life slows down, allowing me an afternoon of back-porch sitting and ice tea sippin’ to the sounds of John Sterling’s hyperbolic Yankees play-by-play. Summer love evolves to the tune of “Sunshine and Grease” by Royal Trux and every block hosts action.

When the heat radiates from the sidewalks and roadways, one becomes more efficient with movements. On a walk to the supermarket during a heat wave, one stops off at the Laundromat and the barber shop to save time and duck the heat. The thrift of maneuver leaks over into simple, everyday tasks. One might grab additional tools in anticipation of an event while traveling to an area for a main reason.

Similarly, thoughts come into focus with humidity. The fervor seems to purify the inner deliberation by pressurizing the brain and allowing one to squeeze out a single coherent rumination instead of an onslaught of scattered brain spew.

These seasonal changes affect the predominant musical acts in my rotation. In the summer, I cut down on lengthy compositions and focus on succinct works. Perennials for this time of year include Pere Ubu, Jim Shepherd, Thin Lizzy and the almighty, original Stooges. In other words, the craving switches from the grandiose to something written in a direct manner that meanders at the proper interval without wandering into the stratosphere.

Thus, Nothing People’s Anonymous (S-S) marks the year’s first perfect summer record. The anonymous band picked a fitting name, as they continue to metamorphose their sound throughout the record without altering their DNA. The record finds the band claiming and conquering various modes of slanted rock’n’roll. From the thunderous, creepy-crawl boogie of “Suspicious” to the feel good hit of the summer, “In the City,” Nothing People compile two perfect sides of warped rock.

As they continually blossom and shapeshift, Nothing People fail to fit perfectly into any one pigeonhole. Sure, they fit in well with fellow weird punkers like Blank Dogs, Psychedelic Horseshit and Eat Skull, sharing a knack for odd posturing, junkyard post-punk and invigorating and well-written songs.

But the genre casts a wide net and Nothing People, like their peers, deserve a classification unto themselves. Songs like “Outsiders Are” and “In the City” contain a distinct, dark groove but sound nothing alike. “In the City,” the album’s anthemic leadoff track, serves as a call-to-arms. Throughout the tune, the band embraces and tweaks rock tradition. The wailing guitar that guides the song fluctuates between feedback squalls and robotic new wave blurs, setting the scene for a classic art-as-arena-rock summer tune. On the chorus, the band enlivens the decades old “Spin me around” chorus, as the unnamed singer adds “Show me your town/The radio’s dead/But there’s songs in my head.” The band finds strength in sparse notes during the maniacal guitar solo that ends the song. Sounding like a circuit bent fire engine siren, the guitar line rings as a wash of crazed fret melting slides in, eventually overtaking the simple solo.

On the other end of the spectrum, “Outsiders Are” thuds through a wide open stretch of desolate post-punk boogie like an Americanized version of Scientists. The masked singer shouts faux-angrily as the band filters the blues through a post-industrial landscape. Helios Creed-style melting future guitar yowls hide underneath the four-dimensional shuffle. A psychotic supernova of guitar sound eventually overtakes the hoodoo and sucks it into a black hole.

The Chrome nods mark one of many post-punk touchstones that pop up throughout the record. Like any great band, they simply know the difference between borrowing a great sonic idea and stealing a band’s identity. At various times, the masked madmen evoke footnotes and cornerstones of the history of rock. “Corner’s For” steals a page from the Alice Donut fakebook, fade-in vocals repeating a single, haunting pair of lines (“That’s what the corners for/That’s what she said) with disturbing results. The unnamed singer even apes the snotty, squealing delivery of Donut throatman Tomas Antona, furthering bad trip psych-punk effects. The comparison stops there, however, as Nothing People, like Ed Gein, merely wear the skin of their subject but retain their soul. Chug-and-drone power chords and mammoth funeral procession keyboard heightens the morbidity. Instead of inserting a masturbatory guitar solo, the band segues into a sonic laser assault complete with acid rock guitar splinters and moans cuts in for about 30 seconds. The band effectively adds power to the statement by keeping their indulgences in check, ensuring the discordance adds to the song instead of overtaking it.

Elsewhere, on “Boccioni’s Mother,” the band cops a throbbing space shuffle out of the Silver Apples’ two classic albums but transforms it into a snarling portrait of a conflicted woman. The band strings together a warbling synth/axe trod and bursts of Moog and splintered guitar heroics. The anti-solo rears its head again in the form of an ambient, guitar-as-Asian-percussion-instrument breakdown. Again, the band reveals a great deal by stating a small-but-thought-provoking trait about the protagonist. Vocalist X wails: “There’s something missing/She’s anti-graceful,” while injecting his delivery with a claustrophobic intensity.

Thee Oh Sees fete another gunner for the summer stunner with The Master’s Bedroom is Worth Spending a Night In (tomlab). Whereas their breakthrough record Sucks Blood found the band jumping around with their sound and finding a comfort zone, The Master’s Bedroom… features a matured band penning perfectly twisted garage-pop. The opening boogie of “Block of Ice” renders the album in the same ass-shakin’, heart-breakin’ territory of Anonymous.

However, Jon Dwyer’s knack for kitsch rhythms elevates the fun meter a bit. He surprises the listener with a right hook of an experimental venture but he continually finds new pathways within the Oh Sees modest tract of land. The typical Oh Sees tune revolves around thumping rhythm guitar jive and an onslaught of space greaser attitude. Adding to and coloring the instrumentation, Dwyer and Brigid Dawson share vocal duties and float a Page/Krauss vibe throughout the record. Dawson proves the perfect foil for Dwyer, as the pair shimmy through the future past. With their intertwining vocals, the duo snake bizarre melodies around the rockabilly rhythms. The band could easily fit into one of those throwback rockabilly joints. That is, until the locals realize Dwyer slipped liquid acid into their Schlitz.

Both The Oh Sees and Nothing People squeeze single, coherent sounds out of a blistering hot formula. The albums promote the fluid movement of a summer heatwave. They’ll drive you to put the needle on the groove, grab yer old lady and shake yer fine ass in one swoop.