Music Wire #11

I think I finally figured out what “Music Wire” is supposed to be. 3 years ago I tried writing this eleventh edition but it’ll live in my drafts until the server dies. Never could figure out what this series was supposed to be. I took these things so seriously like anyone would ever actually read this garbáge. I cared too much, and 6 years later I don’t at all.

This series will just be a few hundred words about new LPs I’ve acquired, concerts, news, and current listenings. Nothing specific or planned with each new entry. Just been feeling the need to do this, typing, whatever that means in 2025, or this mortal coil.

3 years ago Brutus crafted their best record (so far) and personally one of the best in 2022. A strong year in its own right, Unison Life stood out by refining their style from 2019’s Nest which I found during COVID. While raw and less cohesive from track to track Nest still presented the band’s unique structure. Female lead vocals who also played drums, take some old plays out of the Deftones gameplan, sprinkle some blackgaze with the vocalist’s big voice.

On Unison Life however these elements are pieced together smoothly, intentionally, and delve deeper into the shoegaze subgenre’s bag of tricks. More dreamy little coloring and soundscapes. If Deafheaven pushed “blackgaze” forward into popular consciousness, then Brutus is pushing what I call desertgaze. What is that exactly? Imagine a recording studio in the Coachella valley, say Joshua Tree, and Deafheaven, Deftones, and Kyuss are all hanging out sharing ideas, gear, and peyote. This album scratches those grains of sand.

Oddly I haven’t played that album in at least a year. Still held up. I’ll have to account for why it took so long to revisit these songs. Checking in on the band they recently finished a tour with no new shows on their schedule. Hopefully they’re head to a recording studio to track their next project. I’m sure looking out for it.

Yet another record I hadn’t popped on for years, at least 2 if not 3. Snagged one of only 2000 copies during the height of COVID in August of 2020. Played that record over and over again. Listening back to Comadre’s self-titled, and only studio album, reminded me a lot of Touché Amoré’s Stage Four and Lament. Kind of impressive considering those albums came years after Comadre disbanding. Screamo in the present general reminds me of this record. Their loud and chaotic energy definitely comes from Rites of Spring, but with better guitar playing and brighter guitar tone.

Surprise suprise, Comadre guitarist Jack Shirley has spent the last 15 years producing records which have push many subgenres forward. Sunbather by Deafheaven. Sway by Whirr. Of All Things I Will Soon Grow Tired by Joyce Manor. Post- by Jeff Rosenstock. Many of Jack’s records I own and adore, particularly Sway and Deafheaven’s first demo and Roads to Judah. We will in the age of paying attention to producers and showrunners. Jack is someone I check in to see what he’s working on. Check out Suburban Electric by Telethon mixed and mastered by Jack this year.

A few months back at Doc’s Records I came across Big Country’s sophomore album Steeltown in the new arrival bin of used records. Never heard this one but I love their debut album The Crossing which I found thanks to those VH1 nostalgia programs back in the 2000s. Generally presented as a forgettable 80’s one hit wonder with “In a Big Country” but certainly not to the celtic folk. My good friend Jake gave me The Crossing on vinyl one summer when we were helping clean out his garage. Jake had a bunch of solid records in storage, but The Crossing was by far the best of the bunch he gave me.

While their debut has some general themes and disputably celtic in style Steeltown focuses on the plight of Scottish workers experiencing industrial decline and moving into manufacturing cities to put food on the table. I read several accounts the album failed, relatively, in the US due to it’s unrelatable themes. Can’t say I’m surprised the American public in 1984 was woefully unaware Ronald Reagan was fucking them out of a better future. Ask all the farmers who weren’t bailed out after voting for Reagan to help them out after the US government put them in arrears.

Over 40 years later Steeltown surpasses The Crossing musically and thematically. Having not listened to their entire discography I can’t state fully informed opinion; however, consensus says it’s their best work. Lead vocalist and guitarist Stuart Adamson took his song writing and guitar playing up levels. Really underrated player I never hear mentioned like due to his early death. Adamson killed himself in December of 2001. The man battled alcoholism and clearly had personal demons. Thankfully the Scotts haven’t forgotten him or the band.

Steeltown captured the decline of the middle class, specifically in Scotland, at the same time Bruce Springsteen spoke to it here in America. I’m not sure how this material couldn’t be more relatable in 1984. It’s fucking relatable now! Few prospects to obtain a better life economically. I haven’t even scratched its other themes of anti-war, domestic violence, national and personal frustrations with society. One of the best random finds in a while for yours truly. This is way I always search through new arrivals, new or used.

Photo by Eva Vlonk

Hollywood of My Mind

$26 grand slams, legal weed shops, and no free parking available… LA gave me a proper homecoming. Now I never lived there, but like an OF model I’ve been paying the city of angels with my love and credit card all of this century.

Many times I end up in Hollywood, usually out of convenience for a show in the area or just killing time before a show or game. The scenes on the starry streets leap straight out of Shaun of the Dead. Daywalkers with selfie sticks chronicling their experience to the world while those who truly live on the street pass through by like a fart.

Glad to see Karen Bass’s signature homelessness program working so well while every police cruiser passed by dudes pissing on the street or just laying stone cold over The Rugrats star.

Here we see a couple of Asian influencers illuminating their presence outside of Amoeba Music

While in LA the guys helped me discover my new alter-ego… Sebastian, The Influence Hunter!!! Like Steve Irwin and Sir David Attenborough before me, I was put on this earth to track down some gorgeous influencing mate! And Hollyhood didn’t disappoint.

All’s I need is a Crocodile Hunter outfit and a… Selfie stick… To make my videos. I imagine myself running around in short shorts opining about influencers in the wilds in a butchered Australian accent.

My time was too short in La La Land. The boys and I could only workshop the idea for so long. We had to go waste our paychecks at Amoeba. I should consider myself lucky I can aimlessly spend $100+ each time. I have to say I always pull a gem or two. My first time there I got Fang Island’s Major for $5 and Joey Bada$$’s 1999, which I didn’t immediately realize was an unofficial pressing.

Only thing Amoeba needs to work on is a public toilet… I know, I know… Asking for a shitter in the city that shits all through the night on the stars’ walk of fame… I know, but still. I must have farted like twenties in that bitch before we finally left. Thankfully my guys were also farting all over the movie aisles.

I highly recommend The History of Farting by Benjamin Bart and its companion The Future of Farting. The perfect leaflet for any guest lavatory.

Speaking of shitters, that was the only perk we got at Slideaway Fest. We were under the impression paying for the balcony seating… Since no individual seats were for sale at the time, meant we’d be sitting, since we’re in our 30’s. We’ve been through the wars. We’re tired. Lazy.

Anyways, Slideaway Fest. I would’ve bet the shirt on my back after seeing the merch line for Whirr and Nothing we’d have no shot at anything being left over. Still, like idiots, we waited in line through Swirlies and Swervedriver (didn’t miss any of there set though) just to maybe get a shirt or a sticker. Give’em and give us credit, they had enough of everything to go around.

Long night, but fun to see these bands with my friends. Last time I saw a show with them must have been Swanfest in 2019 or maybe Aftershock sometime before that. Lucky to have seen Swirles and Swervedriver who don’t tour often.

Saw Nothing at the Soda Bar back in 2018. Weird show. My roommate and half the crowd left when Nothing was about to go on. Seemed like there was something personal against Nothing that day. Culture Abuse broke-up in 2020 after lead singer David Kelling admitted to sexual misconduct allegations. Idk you be the judge I guess. All I know is Nothing kicked ass that night in 2018 and at Slideaway. Blue Line Baby blow the dome off the Palladium that night.

Whirr, the headliner, a band many at the show had never seen live before, myself included, gave their fans all the merch, vinyl, tik tok hits, and songs from their days in Modesto they wanted.

Can’t bitch much about their setlist. Starting with Leave, their first song/demo/single, into Collect Sadness from the latest record, followed by an Eyes Wide Shut backtrack into Mumble. Collect Sadness has barely been out for 6 months and it’s definitely a top 3 Whirr song for me. Strong first 15 minutes followed by mostly Feels Like You and Raw Blue tracks.

I’ll post their setlist below, but damn I have very few notes for these guys. A few notes though. Switch out Crush Tones for Days I Wanna Fade Away. Crush Tones is a fine song but reminds me of [Insert Movie Here] pee break scene.

Wavelength, while popular, only makes sense between Mellow and Younger Than You on the album. Switch that one up with Rental. No idea how the whole Whirr discord feels about Rental but the demo and studio versions gaze the fuck out. Listen to that one after a few drinks or a gummy.

Last but not least, they finished up with Younger Than You followed by Mellow. Switch that up. Mellow bleeds into Younger Than You beautifully. Also it’s their best song in my opinion. Best way to close out a set.

Kris Ain’t Dunn!!!

If I’m lucky, maybe, just maybe, my blogging career will see the same resurrection from the League to G-League AND back to the League like the Clip’s Nacho Ball! I assumed Kris Dunn had retired or been voluntold of his retirement until a few weeks ago. The man had only one timberwolf claw (he was drafted by the T-Wolves almost a decade ago [this joke failed]) left until Danny Ainge shipped Dunn off to finish assembling the pieces of the Cooper Flag tank puzzle. But here he is! Two games in a row Nacho Ball has slowed down Jamal Murray like the itis from minor league velveeta cheese. Perhaps my writing will lock down some music reviews and hit the occasional popular culture reference. Or maybe just beat Christian Braun’s ass.

I feel bad for only sitting on my ass tonight watching Jokic and Kawhi throw rocks at each other for two hours. My wife is too busy saving lives to text me back. So I’ll keep typing away.

When you’re obese, sometimes you just crave cookies, but not from Crumble. Paying $12 for a cookie is fucking stupid. Have I done it? Sure. Did I do it alone, absolutely not! I’m not trying to eat some art like Francis Dolarhyde. I’m here for the goddamn sugar, butter, and spending $70 on vinyl from Taiwan.

The shipping from Taiwan to Texas was almost as much as the record itself, but well worth the batter for the needle drop. Shout out to Marina who found this collaboration between Hyukoh and Sunset Rollercoaster. She’s now one of my Super Best Friends of music nerds. Instagram’s algorithm on point.

I’m not here to scribe a sophisticated review. I scoped it out on Spotify first but digital doesn’t do the analog justice. You have to pay those shipping fees, even if you have a basic stereo setup like I do, to fully appreciate the collaborative craftsmanship and labor of love in these eight tracks. There’s no linear style or singular theme. “Y” builds on a triumphant late 70’s rock lead with brass backing while “Glue” vibes like an indie jam at Bonnaroo. My favorite though “Aaaannnnteeeeennnaaaaaa” was made for Speaker City. There are no earmuffs for Kris Dunn, Jamal. Happy Dingus Day!

Photo: David Zalubowski (AP)