Pace Press

Issue date: 10/1/08 Section: Arts & Entertainment

The Go Station
Passion Before Function

Pop this CD into your stereo and the statement makes itself heard loud and clear: The Go Station is going to take you on a whirlwind ride fueled by adrenaline and soul that never abates until the last note is sung. Passion Before Function isn't anything innovative or groundbreaking, but the issue is moot in light of the sheer spirit the group's melodies exude.

Hailing from New York City, this five-piece band isn't much for coherent structure - nor are they completely dissonant in the music they create. Lead vocalist Doug Levy recalls a seasoned Neil Young in his melancholic intonations, while the careful pacing of the guitar riffs sound like something My Morning Jacket could have dreamt up.

Comparisons aside, The Go Station hold their own in producing something that is oftentimes simultaneously painful, transcendent and bittersweet to behold. "All Together Now," the leadoff track, succeeds in being optimistic without treading the realm of triteness; "Down Street" is in part a harrowing social commentary while also being a catchy number, with lyrics: "There's a fire in the sky outside/ People run but they don't know where they're running to/ It's like the sun coming up at night/ And you don't ask why."

J. Phoenix
Masterpiece

Nowadays, there is something commendable to be said about R&B that doesn't feature lyrics dripping with sex and vulgarities. Masterpiece is a gem in the sense that it brings back the old school vibe of our culture's Motown days while still maintaining a firm foothold in the present.

"Sweet sweet freedom/ Everybody's on the same road/ No matter what your color/ Rich or poor…" goes the lulling chorus of "Sweet Freedom," a fitting representative for the tone that is pertinent throughout J. Phoenix's debut effort.

With a title like "Money Don't Mean a Thing," another of the album's tracks could have easily been a forgettable filler piece, but J. Phoenix's smooth, sultry vocals give it the credibility it deserves. Not one syllable is neglected; nor is any sentiment understated. J. Phoenix sings with such passion and conviction that it would be difficult not to be transported.

Masterpiece isn't revolutionary in its theme, so don't invest in it if you're more into hip, progressive music. However, the album exudes talent, and it is with much hope that J. Phoenix will repave the forgotten path for other R&B artists to regard their craft with the care that he has.

Buddahead
Ashes

Like many artists, lead singer Raman Kia of Buddahead found himself wondered, upon signing to a major label - should he allow Interscope to market them as they wished to sell more records, or should he follow his gut and produce music that meant something deeper to him?

Ultimately, Kia chose the latter, and the result is Ashes, the band's second album. It tells the thinly-veiled story of Kia's struggle to find his own voice in an oppressive society, following his tumultuous childhood in Tehran and his ensuing relocation to the structured mores of Britain.

The band isn't unlike more mainstream acts like Dashboard Confessional or the All-American Rejects in their mellowness and pleading vocals, not to mention the lyrics of songs like "Ruin," which goes, "You drifted out of all society/ You don't know where you ought to be/ You hate your life; I can see/ Your eyes are crying out to me."

This ongoing string of emo anthems gets tiring after a few tracks, with few exceptions like "Sour Grapes," which is sulky, but also angsty, channeling The Mars Volta through Kia's vocals.

Although Kia's story is no doubt a moving and powerful one, you can't help but wonder if he could have better articulated it in a way that wasn't so overtly and blatantly pessimistic.

Mountain Home
Mountain Home

Indie label Language of Stone's collaboration on Mountain Home is nothing short of hypnotic and haunting. Marissa Nadler sings lead for all five of the album's tracks, providing rich, meandering tones which lament the sadness of nature, among other transcendental subjects. Monosov plays the banjo, acoustic guitar and hurdy gurdy, and Margie Wienk and Fern Knight supply the backup vocals.

"Comes, the Winter" is a prime example of the lasting effect this album has on you; it starts and ends with nearly a minute's worth of an unidentifiable screeching noise that has the power to penetrate the subconscious and elicit the most incredible numbness in your mind. Although this may be a torturous experience for your eardrums, it is a fitting accouterment to the solemnity of the track, and the rest of the album as well.
This is the collaboration of indie/experimental musicians new and old that many will delight in - it's an acquired taste, for sure, but it's also something you won't be able to unhook from the recesses of your memory after repeated listens.

Linwood
Burn Effect

They bill themselves as a rock/pop band, but Mississippi-based Linwood is more heavy metal than anything else. They list R.E.M., U2 and Velvet Revolver among their influences, but is this emanated successfully through their own work?

Yes and no. As a heavy metal band, you'd expect frenetic guitar riffing and over-the-top screaming choruses - and you'd be satisfied in that arena. However, the album does not last in your memory. One track leads into the next - leaving you wondering what it was you had just heard. The melodies aren't much to speak of, and Bo Lindsey's lead vocals drag on at times - ultimately the passion is missing.

This is not to say that Burn Effect is an altogether "poser" effort - the lyrics do hold their own merit. They're just above what one would deem emo, their substance taken into account. Take "Fall," for instance, which chants, "I know what I'm headed for/ The strength in me wanting more/ Reach the top and I won't look down/ 'Cause I love to fall love to fall…"

Scott Coopwood, Barry Bays and Rick Shelton do their parts on guitars, bass and drums, respectively, but when it comes down to it, Lindsey's lack of conviction in his singing and the band's overall lack of a trademark sound - a brand, if you will - makes Burn Effect an altogether forgettable effort.

Jonathan Wilson
Frankie Ray

Jonathan Wilson's brand of folk-rock is something you've probably never come across. It is experimental in the deepest sense of the word. Along with being the lone singer, composer, songwriter and producer of this album, Wilson plays nearly every instrument - and he is competent in each respective role. Consisting of 16 tracks, Frankie Ray takes you on a journey of love and loss as seen through Wilson's eyes.

The feel of this album is predominantly subdued and somber, with sharp and ironic lyrics such as those found in "El Matador": "El Matador/ She don't even know me/ Well, of all the raindrops in the sky/ Why did I see her eyes with mine?" Wilson's voice is barely above a whisper throughout Frankie Ray, as if to challenge a prod from you to make it louder, all the while knowing, from the edge with which he sings, that getting him angry can get ugly.

The effort gets progressively more optimistic, as can be sampled with upbeat tracks like "White Turquoise" and "You Can Have Me," the latter of which channels The Beatles circa "Love Me Do." It's certainly lighter fare than what the album began with; the beat is fun, playful, and it has perhaps the catchiest hook of them all.

Page 1 of 1

Article Tools