CD Reviews: Gallows, State Champs lead off ‘year of Duluth’
Matthew R. Perrine Budgeteer News
Published Friday, January 19, 2007
Smile. You’re surrounded by immense talent.
Kicking off what promises to be a banner year for the local scene is the “wham” of the Gallows’ “Sings Erik Sommer” and the “bam” of the State Champs’ self-titled debut. (Logic would dictate, then, that the “thank you, ma’am” will be Low’s “Drums and Guns” — to be reviewed in two weeks’ time.)
The Gallows is the brainchild of No Wait Wait’s NYC transplant Marc Gartman and Nathan Starke, [insert another generic local scene connection here].
Regardless, “Sings Erik Sommer” comes on the heels of the group’s winning contribution to “Treasure Chest,” a charming take of “Rainbow Connection,” so these guys have a lot to live up to.
Rest assured, mom and dad, they do: The Gallows are no slouches.
That said, this debut is a frustrating listen/review. Not because it stinks — far from it, actually — but the whole experience just sounds so … vaguely familiar.
The lyrics of Erik Sommer? Familiar. Hauntingly, in fact, but not something you can quite put your finger on. (Who is this mysterious fellow, and why is he in my head?)
Same goes for Starke and Gartman’s accompanying music. It’s familiar, too, but where do the comparisons lie?
It’s at once Charlie Parr and Jayber Crow — exhuming the weathered mysticism of HBO’s “Carnivale” — but, then again, there are also trace elements of the Geraldine Fibbers and Jason Molina.
Gartman’s jovial banjo playing highlights “Class Hill Station,” but that spirit subsides with dreary numbers like “Nothing Only.”
At the end of the record, though, it’s mind-blowing shots like “Side Street Shuffle” that help clear the air.
If you ever wanted to hear Lifter Puller tear through various points in the Beach Boys catalog, here’s your chance.
Luckily for *ahem* reviewers like me, the State Champs’ sound is a lot easier to pinpoint.
Whether it’s intentional or not, this debut disc from Amy Abts and the seemingly infallible Greg Cougar Conley (and cohorts) is for anyone who wakes from a dead sleep only to ask aloud, “Hey, what ever happened to that so-called ‘alternative nation’?”
The “blender” metaphor is overused, so let us instead focus on a baked potato. A baked potato alone is boring, so we’ll stuff ours with our favorite female-fronted CDs of the ’90s.
To avoid further exacerbating this ill-advised experiment, choose selections from Belly, Juliana Hatfield and Throwing Muses.
Finally, wrap in tinfoil and microwave until all the elements have melded together successfully.
Yes, I realize I’m a dork, but can you not hear Tanya Donelly singing “Big Whatever”?
The lyrics alone read like they’ve been siphoned from anything Pawn America has multiple copies of: “Why would you / Want me / To be your / Big whatever / A fairy tale / Smashed up / And severed.”
But when Abts accentuates the “smashed,” you’ll totally forget that Matt Pinfield and Claire Danes no longer have jobs.
Now, all of this more than likely reads like a “bad review,” but you don’t know me at all, do you?
I love what the State Champs are doing.
I sincerely miss that period of time when rock radio darlings didn’t try so hard to sound “cool,” they just were.
Abts and crew are especially invigorating on tracks like “For the Captain.”
Surrounding the leading lady’s fragile coos are some well-placed handclaps, Conley’s driving guitar and the forceful, pulsating rhythm section of bassist Eric Anderson and drummer Zac Bentz.
This isn’t something you’d expect to come from Duluth’s scene — or this decade, for that matter — but it’s here, and only a fool would dismiss it because of some shoddy record review.