PINKSPIDERS

JENNIFER O'CONNOR- OVER THE MOUNTAIN, ACROSS THE VALLEY AND BACK TO THE STARS (Matador) Rough-hewn folkies. JD There are a lot of dreamers in the coffee shop, and a lot of kids sitting alone in their bedroom with an acoustic guitar. The folk revival that began in earnest in the 1950s continues to hold a spell on every generation since. Those reasons explain the vast numbers of singer-songwriters who dream of an audience and probably will never find one, and they also point to the discerning factor for those who do (i.e. good songwriting). Over the Mountain, Across the Valley and Back To the Stars has a lot of that, despite the gut feeling throughout that this is an album you've heard a few times before. Jennifer O'Connor's voice is typi cal of a female folksinger-slightly husky, reverent, and hopelessly introspective. She plucks, she strums, she pleads, she conveys empathy and earnest soul with a natural charm and none of the faux pathos so irritatingly common in the genre. So while O'Connor is somewhat mannered, it works in a way that Cat Power never quite can. Still, songs like “Today” have a distance that is nearly cold, what with O'Connor pleading for a friend to stay in the lyrics and her voice employing ambivalence as a guard for her true feelings. It's compounded on the songs where the tempo rises and her enthusiasm doesn't; the impression is that she's holding back something, something that never quite reveals itself over the course of Over the Mountain, Across the Valley and Back To the Stars . She takes us on a journey that goes just as far as the title implies, and in the end we're not quite sure where we've been. (B)

COUNT BASS D- ACT YOUR WAIST SIZE (Fat Beats) Mindless self-indulgence. BL The number one problem with underground hiphop, even for those of us who strongly identify with the so-called “ b a c k p a c k e r ” scene, is that the production quite often obfuscates the impact, whether out of a willful desire to be different (see: some of El-P's early work) or a simple lack of funds. Say what you will about the commodification of hiphop culture and the resulting homoge nization of the genre, but at least most major label rap has a good beat and you can dance to it. Which is not to say that underground rappers should sell their soul to the corporate devil and quest for the almighty dollar. But DAMN, can a brother at least get a final mix in which your everything-but-the-kitchen-sink aesthetic does not completely drown out your lyrics?! Which is all a wordy way of saying that Count Bass D, for all the impressive credits on his resume, could use a little “lessis-more” guidance. Hailing from the hiphop haven of Nashville, the man emerged more than a decade ago as one of the first underground hip-hop artists to produce an album using only live instrumentation. Within a few years he had traded amps for samplers, and ultimately collaborated with the Beastie Boys, Prefuse 73 and MF Doom. With his debut on the respected Fat Beats label, Count Bass D proves to be one of those eclectic indie artists whose refusal to value audience accessibility nearly as much as creativity will turn off all but the most faithful underground hiphop heads. All the right elements are there, including crafty beats, clever samples, jazzy grooves and intelligent lyrics, but the way in which they're combined creates such a cacophonous din that it's impossible to decide which sound to focus on at any given moment. On “Internationally Known,” for example, the treble of the piano sample and the snap of the snare drum almost completely overwhelm his syncopated rhymes, not to mention the jazzy organ chords that occasionally pop up in the mix. The melodic counter point between the organ and melodica on “Case O'Dilla” proves headache-inducing even before the vocals kick in, much less the wailing siren and other samples he piles on like a gluttonous fat boy at an all you can eat sonic buffet. When he does keep things on the rela tively minimalist tip (see: “The Slugger of Louisville”), you finally get a glimpse of why so many artists want to work with Count Bass D, and the clean funk-soul groove of the Van Hunt-produced ballad “Half the Fun” proves that all the man really needs is someone to help edit out his more self-indulgent tendencies. It's just too bad there aren't more moments like that on the album. (C-)

SIMON DAWES- CARNIVORE (Record Collection) Shins-worthy indie-pop. JM As the world collectively waits patiently for th e next Shins album (bumped back to 2007), L.A.-based alt rockers Simon Dawes (a group, not a person) offer a great stopgap diversion with their first full-length album. Part jangle-pop, part straight-up rock, the band relies on ‘60s-inspired melodies and influences as purebred as Cheap Trick, The Kinks, Pet Sounds-era Beach Boys and, naturally, The Beatles in writing their catchy-as-hell songs. Part of their appeal is that their music sounds as if it could have come from just about any post-‘60s decade. With an image as marketable as the Killers and songs that are just as strong, there's no decent reason why Simon Dawes shouldn't be selling millions by this time next year. Then again, Phantom Planet had an almost identical pedigree and, despite having penned The OC theme song, they seem destined for a career playing mid-level clubs. (B)

THE LEMONHEADS- SELF-TITLED (Vagrant) Ten years late. JD Evan Dando has led a variety of Lemonheads incarnations over the past two decades, though no one really cared until his poppy classic, It's a Shame About Ray , made him a poster boy for the alt-rock generation when it was released in 1992. The burst of fame that followed that album’s success left Dando with a variety of substance abuse issues, leading to an inconsistent career that betrayed his honeyed voice. His 2003 solo album was enjoyable enough and predictably good, but by then most of his core fanbase were too busy negotiating the day-to-day stresses of middle management and coaching tball to notice. So, in what is admittedly an attempt at relevance, Dando signed up a handful of friends– drummer Bill Stevenson (Descendents, Black Flag),bassist Karl Alvarez (Descendents), and J. Mascis (Dinosaur, Jr.)– to make this self-titled album. The Lemonheads proves Dando's still got a formidable gift for melody, and although the album doesn't have the folksy vibe that made the girls swoon, his bandmates bring an endearing vigor to his songwriting. It's as solid as anything Dando has ever done, and it's probably the second best album he's ever made. What The Lemonheads doesn't have is a killer single– a track that could transcend the years of dust that have covered up Dando's talent. There are some lookers (“Steve's Boy” and “Pittsburgh”), but nothing that will boom from the latest teen drama on network TV, nothing that will melt a soccer mom and nothing that ties the Lemonheads to modern pop charts. Luckily, these eleven charming (albeit nostalgic) little rock songs do a fine job of standing on their own. (B+)

PRETTY IN PINK THE PINK SPIDERS PROVE NASHVILLE AIN’T ALL COUNTRY

There’s rarely any middle ground when it comes to the Pink Spiders. People usually love them or hate them. And Matt Friction, lead singer and guitarist for the Nashville pop rock trio, is pretty happy about that. “We don’t want to be a band that people are indifferent about,” says Friction, calling from Detroit just weeks after the band joined up with the Warped Tour. Three years and thousands of miles on the road in the making, the group of twentysomethings have excelled at a frenzied pace. Thei r Ramones-meets-Stones brand of gritty power-pop has already been immortalized on an EP and two full-length releases. Their latest, Teenage Graffiti , was released in August on Geffen. Love ‘em or hate ‘em, they’re hard to ignore. From their inyour-face live show (Friction has been known to shout from the stage, “We’re the Pink Spiders and you’re not!”) to their decision to wear pink clothing at all times, Friction, bassist Jon Decious and drummer Bob Ferrari tend to demand attention. On their decision to dress in pink, Friction says, “It’s one of those things that makes you interested or makes you definitely not interested.” So far he has yet to regret the decision, but even The White Stripes started wearing more than red and white after just a couple of albums. And KISS, a decade or so into it, decided to take off the makeup. The band was raised in Nashville, a city best known for Music Row and a stretch of pawn shops storing the gui tars of b rokenhearted country star wannabes. But there’s also a surprisingly strong, but small rock scene there. “There are a lot of record labels and songwriters here, and it seems like a lot of the offspring of the songwriters in Nashville are starting up rock bands,” notes Friction, who’s quick to point out that his parents have nothing to do with the music industry. As a teen, Friction was in a numbe r of bands, but it was a side-project with Decious and a shared passion for The Ramones and Clash that led them to quit their respective groups, add Ferrari and make The Pink Spiders their main focus. Releasing the EP The Pink Spiders Are Taking Over in 2004, signing to indie label CI Records and quickly turning out their first proper full-length, Hot Pink, the guys dedicated the next two years to playing to as many people as possible. Starting out with a $3 perdiem, the bulk of which went toward s buying booze and smokes, the band became creative at stretching a buck. “We donated plasma fairly often and I got on food stamps so we could stock up on food before we wen t out on the road,” recalls Fric tion. “We did everything imaginable to survive. We used to go to casinos to play Black Jack to try and raise money.”

Their early albums were also exercises in frugality, recorded in days rather than months. The release of

Hot Pin k brought a lot of attention, with its strong melodies dressed up with punk-rock swagger. A num ber of labels were intent on signing them, but it was Geffen that ultimately won them over. With major label funding behind them, the band decided to go all out when it came to recording their next album. “They asked us who we wanted [to produce it] and, without even think ing about it, we all said Ric Ocasek. It was a pipe dream more than anything else, someone we thought we’d never be able to work with... He seems to be an undeniable source of cool,” Friction reports. “He’s just amazing.” With Teenage Graffiti , The Pink Spiders turned in a more grown-up version of themselves. The Beatles-esque “Adalae” is a perfect example, showing more depth than many would’ve given the band credit for. “We always wanted to rip off our favorite bands equally,” quips Friction. For the past year, the band has been back on the road (though with a larger daily allowance), and they plan to see their foreseeable future through tour bus windows. “We spent so much time hustling, begging and stealing,” recalls Friction. “It’s nice that we can live a bit more comfortably now.” –John Moore

“We donated plasma fairly often and I got on food stamps so we could stock up on food before we went out on the road. We did everything imaginable to survive.”