Scrolling back through our past posts on local favorites Unwelcome Guests, it's hard not to notice a recurring theme: nobody is quite sure how to place them. On the surface, it seems like it shouldn't be so hard. Guitars, bass, drums, vocals: this is the stuff of bands since Buddy Holly. But where one person hears the Buzzcocks, another hears the Gin Blossoms. Personally, the first thing I thought when I started listening to their new album, Wavering, was Jawbreaker, and even then, I'm not sure exactly why. Whatever the reason, Unwelcome Guests are the musical equivalent of that thing from Harry Potter that shows you whatever you want to see.

This is a good thing. It makes Wavering one of those rare albums that could, potentially, please everybody, at least everybody into rock music (Luke Bryan fans, go home). It mostly sheds the occasional country vibe found on Unwelcome Guests' first full-length, Don't Go Swimming, doubling down on the punk and the rock.

Unwelcome Guests have always been skilled songwriters and arrangers. On Don't Go Swimming, it's obvious that a great deal of thought went in to every single note, build-up and breakdown. But Wavering is on a whole new level. For one thing, the band is tighter than ever, and not afraid to showcase their musicianship when the situation calls for it. For another, it's clear that every single track was meticulously planned and executed so that the listener would never have the chance to get bored. Unwelcome Guests put the work in on Wavering, and it shows. Where other bands might have taken one good idea and tried to stretch it across an entire song, Unwelcome Guests give every flourish the attention it deserves before moving right on to the next one. Not only does that keep the listening experience fresh, but it rewards repeat listening as well. 

The album opener, "Aerostatic," kicks off with a snare hit right to your skull, the kind designed to get an audience out of their heads and onto their feet. "Aerostatic," and two tracks that immediately follow, "Everything New" and "Clouds," are both melodic punk songs in the vein of great bands like Jawbreaker and Hüsker Dü. "Kick The Beams" sports some of the best guitar work on the album, building on an imperial-sounding guitar line reminiscent of bands like Ozma or Queen. Album midpoint "Flood" sees the band touching on their country-punk roots, but the tracks that follow are closer to straight-up riffy rock. "Cautions Will Be The Death Of Me" is a catchy love song, but maybe the album's low point (or maybe I'm just a cold, cold bastard who can't get down with sincere expressions of adoration and appreciation). But things pick up quick, closing out with the energetic, Superchunky sounds of "Can't Get Past" and "Slippery Strings."

Despite the fact that Unwelcome Guests draws on and displays influences from a ton of different bands, the production on Wavering keeps things consistent. No matter what great bands might come to mind throughout, Unwelcome Guests always sound like themselves, first and foremost. The album was recorded and mixed all over, including The Slave Pit, home of Gwar, and it sounds great. 

Unwelcome Guests are out on tour in support of Wavering, right now, so it might be a while before you can catch them live and pick up a copy at a show. They just finished up a string of dates with labelmates Sundowners, the last one being a spot on the Dirt Cult Records showcase at SXSW on Saturday. So if you'd like a real live physical copy of Wavering, support your local record store (I know that Black Dots has it, and that Spiral Scratch should soon), or order a copy straight from the label here. 

There is a cyclical way we recall memories, sometimes pulling from the end, or dreaming up the middle, trying to find narrative thread that rings true. The story can weaken, or intensify, depending the details added or taken away. Reflection holds an emotional, resonant space. With Crows & Jay's release of Indian Falls this February, they state that this album "...Accesses much more personal experiences of the band. It's about coming and going, and recognizing all the various forms both addiction and relationships have." The many stories told in this work capture, with a twang, how we recast old partnerships. Crows & Jays translate their histories in major harmonies, strong ballads, and a punchy side of rock n' roll.

"Indian Falls" opens the album with cascading, crisp piano solos. The content is idyllic, roomy, and places us in a tangible setting, as main vocalist Justin Bachulak sings, "Indian Falls is callin'/ bathe in the water that's fallin'/ we'll live off the land/ once again I'll be your man." "Fall Behind Us" contrasts with a more minor, pensive, adagio piano, that follows the vocal phrasing in sync. Much of the music harnesses a southern rock and folk sensation, bringing up, for this listener, the fluid guitar solos of The Allman Brothers and the introspective strums of Neil Young. "Only One Survives" follows this path. Extended riffs play between the lyrical phrases, then pause to emphasize what's being sung. A solid line: "Two hearts can beat but only one survives."

Completing the back end of the album are more anthemic, stripped down tunes. "Deirdre" retells the story of a "beauty queen", perhaps a eulogy, or song of mourning. The harmony on the word "Deirdre" catapults the sound to an ethereal level, raising the complexity. "Skipping Stones" feels like it's drawing from a more puerile time, wandering through childhood memories while sitting in the midst of a forest. Around two minutes in, the guitar trills, leaving a gap between the past and present. The last line of the song is an appropriate placement for the close, "put out the fire, we've got some sleeping to do." From start to finish, Crows & Jays deliver a sound musical journey. For a reasonable dime to have it for your own, head here.

Upon first listen to Ontario Girls, I knew Rochester's Pleistocene was a shoo-in for an Album of the Week nod. I was pleasantly surprised at just how uplifting Ontario Girls could be - I think as a whole, it really brightened up my week. The Weezer-tinged shoegazers specialize in catchy, female (and occasionally male) fronted jams full of crunchy guitars and squiggly keyboards. Besides Weezer, pleistocene has a fuzzy jangle that brings to mind Ozma or Zolof the Rock and Roll Destroyer... Maybe even a hint of Metric or Wavves. 

I might be speaking too soon, but Ontario Girls is one hell of a release, and I'm predicting a year-end sweep (or at least a few more-than-pleasant comments). Pleistocene has penned some great songs here that, for lack of a more eloquent phrase, are just a really good time. "Big Bang" is a raucous introduction, building a hyper catchy tune off of a bouncy, electric piano. "Cream and Citrus" follows suit, making use of droning background synths and gain-saturated vocals.

Pleistocene are no one-trick-ponies though - for every delightfully straightforward track like "Butter," we are rewarded with something a little different like the ethereal "Talk to Me." The oddest moments on this album come from "Hit the Books" and "Finer Things" which, to pleistocene's credit, don't seem to fit into any discernible genre.  The guitar line in "Finer Things" alone was intriguing enough to make me crane my head to get my ear closer to the speakers. Once I realized how ridiculous I must have looked, I realized how exciting Pleistocene can be. 

Even though the band is capable of writing simple pop songs, the refreshing (and downright surprising) thing about Pleistocene is their ability to push the boundaries of pop music. "Finer Things" might not get attention from the radio in the way that "Big Bang" might, but the plethora of strange sounds and intriguing effects are enough to catch any person's ear in just the right way.

Lastly, "The Band" finds Pleistocene channeling Wolf Parade with just a touch of cynicism. That being said, it's no secret that pop bands are a dime a dozen... And with the recent explosion of great new shoegaze and emo bands, it's a welcome experience to stumble upon a band like Pleistocene who knows how to mold pop music into an interesting format. I am usually biased since I live in Buffalo and all, but I have to say, Rochester and Pleistocene have set the bar pretty high this time.

The other night, I noticed muffled sounds/voices coming from somewhere in my house. Only vaguely threatened, I first assumed the guy upstairs, normally gone for weeks at a time (this is a whole other mystery), had simply returned home or that someone was working outside. Then remembering that the windows were closed and realizing that the guy upstairs was not home, I began to search for the source of the sound until I realized the stereo receiver was picking up radio signals, a low ghostly murmur coming through the speakers. The effect was haunting, and reminiscent of Jean Cocteau's classic movie, Orpheus, where the the car radio broadcasts abstract messages from the afterlife. In both of these cases, the radio signals, faintly picked up by stereos, becomes a ghostly presence, suggesting a space between life and death.

I bring up these two instances to introduce this week's Album of the Week by Sparklebomb, the alias of Angie Conte, a Buffalo based electronic musician who has just released her debut cassette EP, Funeral Beats on Prime Ruin. Sparklebomb has crafted a series of pieces around tape and synth loops that, combined with the interspersed phone recordings of a now deceased man, explore this liminal terrain, acting as a sort of musical crypt.

The title track is a strong example of Sparklebomb's style, which mixes the found and the original in a way reminiscent of Burial at his more downtempo moments. It is low fi but for very specific reasons as Sparklebomb begins to explore and emphasize the materiality of her instruments, the scratches and muffling anchoring the music and giving it a textural quality that further underscores the life and death of an ultimately marginal figure. Conte had acquired the phone conversations of a now deceased man who seems to have recorded every one of the calls he made to phone sex operators trying to find an outlet for his desires. It is to Conte's credit that she is able to take this premise and use her music to articulate the gentleman's loneliness, leading the listener to be both at times uncomfortable with how raw these recordings are and also acknowledging that this individual was a person just as deserving of achieving his desires as anyone else. The tape becomes a memorial and the choice of sound clips, albeit raw, forces us to confront the damage done to individuals we deem to be outsiders.

For such a short album, Sparklebomb has crafted a strong statement of introduction for her work and its focus. Funeral Beats is quiet collection of affecting and haunting pieces. Its materiality allows it to carve itself a space for its ghosts while also acting as a marker for a life filled with desires, moments of pleasure and feelings of rejection. There is a moment towards the end of "I'm Home," the EP's penultimate track, where Conte's own muffled vocals come through the loops and drumbeats. This moment seems to introduce another specter but the voice's melodic quality signals the entrance of the living, an uncanny moment that firmly positions the record between life and death sharing space with Cocteau's radio poet and the free floating radio signals coming through my stereo receiver. Overall, the EP is a great debut from an artist carving out a unique space for herself. I am excited to see what Sparklebomb does next.

Funeral Beats is available via Prime Ruin.

How do you write and record a blues album? If you’re Buffalo/Houston band The Broken Vibes, the answer is easy...the interwebs (yes I said the inter interwebs). This method gives you the ability meet no where near the middle to record. The two piece (Pete Torrey Guitar/ Vocals and Dan Wilcox drums), which is half rooted in Buffalo (Wilcox) while the other half is based in Houston (Torrey), began the writing process through emails. This is actually how the two initially met in the first place, via a Craigslist ad (and no they didn’t meet through Casual Encounters). The two eventually met up in Cleveland, Ohio to lay down tracks with Adam Korbesmeyer (of the Cleveland band Nomads) who mixed and mastered the album.

The ever imaginatively titled The Broken Vibes II, their sophomore effort, is a “Blues” album. The obvious comparisons that can be made are to The Black Keys and The White Stripes, and other duos that play Delta Blues. It also helps that Torrey’s voice channels the love child of Dan Auberabch and Kenny Wayne Shepherd. This however would be a somewhat lazy juxtaposition. A more acute observation would be Led Zeppelin, Junior Kimbrough, or RL Burnside.

The Broken Vibes II plays like a mix tape from Rob Sheffield (Rolling Stones editor and author), except you don’t have to act all sad after listening to it. The opening track, "My New Thing," is a low and slow blues riffed intro met by a heavy three-four drum accompaniment. The ballad "All Down the Line," is a song that reminds you of an Indie-pop Pandora station if it wasn’t for Torrey’s gravely vocals. "Lost Without You" exemplifies why and how Torrey’s voice works perfectly with vocal effects. These songs come together to make the formula found throughout the record, and which gives The Broken Vibes II the perfect flow. It doesn’t fade away into the distance, nor does it burn out on the freeway, it just lingers on. The real gem on this record is the somber "Used to Be," which stresses the subtlety of Wilcox’s drum kit. As it plays on, Torrey’s voice gently seduces us, and we don’t even mind even though we didn’t shave our legs for this impromptu little romp.

The Broken Vibes do us a few favors along the way, such as sparing us the fascist redundancy of guitar solos. We never exactly forget we are listening to a blues record, it just escapes our minds for a brief moment. This is a nice progressive departure from their self titled debut. They no longer appear to be trying to be The Black Keys. They are coming into their own, and it makes you curious what else they still have up their sleeves. When asked about his thoughts on the album Torrey said, “I'm shocked that we didn't get more spacey and weird on The Broken Vibes II.” I’ll be honest with you, I look forward to them getting a little weird.

Here's a quick reminder for the day: life's got a hole in it. Surely, in that itty-bitty phrase written by Rochester-based singer/songwriter Ben Morey, he's fully aware of what ideas springboard off those few words. Wormholes, emotional voids, corruption, ego, the endless pitfalls we face and attempt to dodge, the many spaces we try to fill. What Morey tells us is that we shouldn't, because it will kill us. Fair enough. I'm all for denial and avoidance. Although, the message here, strewn throughout his latest album, Pleasant, is one of hope. Not a new-agey hope that's egging us to believe our spiritual guides are going to change the world, it's a reflective, spectator's hope, and more so, advice from a friend.

Underneath the track listing, in tiny italics, Morey dedicates this album to singer/songwriter Daniel Johnston. If you're not familiar, he's the guy who tried to crash his father's plane into a tree while having a manic episode. More than that, Johnston's revered guitar playing is a constant whir and strum that supports his twangy voice and profound words. Morey's guitar plucks in a similar vein on songs like "Lightbulb" and "Pal Of Mine."

While not all the songs on Pleasant are match-made folk ballads, his subject matter is directed toward the support of a manic/depressive character, done in a way that is light, airy, positive. For instance, on said song "Wonder" Morey's even, clear voice sings "Sometimes you're so happy you could cry/ and sometimes you're so sad that you might die/ but you can wonder, whether you were right/ you can wonder...baby if you'd like" accompanied by a major harmony that floats on with speed. Morey's choice of mixing in piano and violin to the tracks not only give some of the pieces an orchestral background but also diversify this work from being considered strictly folk.

The last song on Pleasant, the Johnston cover "True Love Will Find You In The End," samples a chorus of children singing with Morey and sounds as if they are shouting from far away, another echo and reminder of positivity. Not all the tracks are precious lyrical ballads, though. He balances them with slightly comical and Ween-esque "Don't Go Crazy" and "Small Space." They're topsy-turvy, tambourine shaking and piano stomping songs. Morey takes the feeling of suffocation and makes it a joke, saying, "at least we can get to the bottom of it" that may never happen between two lovers, or friends, but one can try. And that's certainly the point here, to bring those chaotic and docile moments close and translate them into a work of art.

JOHNS' House of Wrongheads was one of the first Albums of the Week of 2013. It was a six song collection of dark, convoluted garage rock released on cassette. I admit, I don't have anything in my life that can play a cassette tape anymore. Somehow, I was lucky enough to run into a digital copy of their next four song EP, Temple of False Love. It subsequently became this week's Album of the Week.

There's something "horrific" about JOHNS. I don't quite want to loop them in with the horror punk scene - but they sound something like a cross between the Misfits and The Strokes. EP opener "Anatomy of a Noose" is as simple as they come, pairing distinct, hard-strummed Rickenbacker jangle with spooky layered vocals. "Dead All" is next and follows a similar paradigm - gang-ish vocals over moody, discordant indie rock.

"Side B" kicks off with the surf-rock inspired cover of long time classic "Money." JOHNS' version is one hell of a banger and my personal favorite (it even gives the incredible "Worm Wall" from House of Wrongheads a run for its money). Between the guitar licks, crazed yelling, and frantic drumming, I can't even imagine how awesome this song would be to see live. The EP closes out with "Cemetery," which finds JOHNS at their horror punk-est. The chant of, "We will take your everything" was enough to make me check my back pocket for my wallet.

Admittedly, this was a pretty quick review; but then again, Temple of False Love is a very quick listen, and that's part of what makes it so fun. You can pick it up at their EP release show later this month at the Jungle Gym.

Last week's Album of the Week was Fowls' Into the Wild, a hyper-tight mathy offering from Rochester. This week, we're continuing with the Rochester trend, but that's about the only thing these two bands have in common. This week's AOTW is Too Old To Believe in Ghosts, a seven-song EP from a band called Keeler, a four piece emo/punk outfit who, to be frank, sound nothing like Fowls' clean and calculated indie rock. In fact, I'd go as far as to say the bands are complete opposites.  

It might just be me, but I think there is an emo revival making its way around the "scene" or the "underground," or whatever you want to call it. Most of these on-the-verge bands seem to be coming from Topshelf Records. Coincidentally, Keeler just had a pretty big opportunity where they opened for Topshelf up-and-comers The World Is A Beautiful Place And I Am No Longer Afraid To Die and the nerd-rock headlining act The Front Bottoms. Keeler falls right into that category - I wouldn't be surprised if they continue to head in a TWIABP direction (sans horns and cellos and all that other jazz).

On that note, Keeler sounds exactly like what you might expect; slightly discordant and almost a little bit sloppy, but totally grounded all at the same time. Keeler is one of those bands that offers a specific experience, really. They specialize in the self-recorded, "about-to-fall-apart" sound that emo bands have somehow made so enjoyable.  Many of the songs on Too Old To Believe In Ghosts sound like Joan of Arc or a less self-depriciative Cursive. Needless to say, I of course mean this all as a compliment. After all, this is passionate, emotional, and independent rock music.

The album opens with "Shoot the Jay," which doesn't even crack the two-minute mark.  It's a rush of harshly strummed guitar chords and a few yelps from singer Sam LiButti.  Keeler's lyrics are exceptionally dark...  LiButti yells lines like, "I'm freezing cold, kill me.  Please." I can't help but laugh as that's pretty much exactly how I am feeling right now as I write this in my refrigerator/apartment hyrbid.

"Little Bendies" and its predecessor on the album, "Little Bendies Pt. 2," are about as Kinsella (I am referring to the Kinsella brothers from Cap'n Jazz, Joan of Arc, Owls, Make Believe fame) as they come, featuring spastic vocals overtop instrumentals that are just discordant enough to be creative and intense instead of abrasive. "Little Bendies Pt. 2" even makes use of a cymbal bell-heavy drumbeat which is extremely reminiscent of The Appleseed Cast. But one of my personal favorite tracks, is the delightful "Backburner," which may just be the hidden gem on this album. "Backburner" is indication of all that Keeler is capable of - complimenting their usual intensity with some forlorn gang vocals and a gentle lead guitar to start off the song.

Though every other song falls right around the two minute mark, album closer "Indian Watcher" is worth every second of its six minute run.  The production value on this EP isn't incredible, but for some reason, it seems to add to the authenticity, and for that matter, the overall experience.  This one reminds me of The Anniversary, or some other mid-level Vagrant band from the late nineties.  It finishes in a swirl of guitar over top of a pretty impressive drumbeat.  Kudos to drummer/engineer Christian "The Cool" Ortiz for a thoroughly enjoyable listen.

Too Old To Believe In Ghosts is currently being offered for free on bandcamp - I highly suggest downloading it here.

In honor of their upcoming show this Friday with Buffalonians Bryan Johnson & Family and Brother Keep, we have chosen Rochester-based Fowls' debut album, Into the Wild, as this week's Album of the Week.

Fowls' music falls somewhere in between indie pop and math rock, what they affectionately call "math pop."  That's actually a fairly accurate description of the band - their blistering indie rock is catchy and jagged, reminiscent of Tokyo Police Club with an eclectic vocal section that brings Bombay Bicycle Club to mind.  In fact, I really got excited when I noticed the inclusion of Pretty Girls Make Graves in their section of influences... But the closest comparison would be to the riffy math-rock of Maps and Atlases or the laid-back loop-heavy indie rock of Minus the Bear.

Album opener "Honey" is a full five minutes of jagged guitar lines and polyrhythms. Fowls doesn't always recreate the energy of "Honey" (that is not a bad thing by any means), but they also never disappoint.  Take for example, the opposite end of the album, "Honeycomb," which takes a constant wavering bass line and builds a solid, smooth groove over it.

Bands like Fowls are always so intriguing to me - they take organic instruments and lock in with each other so tightly.  They inevitably create tightly spun songs that pulse with some sort of energy that seems bound to unravel at any moment...  But that's the magic of any genre that you tag with the word "math."  It's supposed to sound precise and calculated.  Especially coming from the perspective of a fellow musician, I can't help but catch myself thinking, "how did they do that?"

I must reiterate - you can catch Fowls this Friday at DBGBs.  Doors are at 9, music starts at 10pm with a totally affordable $5 cover.
 

I had the unique privilege of being in one of the bands that supported Real People at their EP release show last Saturday. The lineup was, in my opinion, one of the best I've ever had the pleasure of being a part of...  Besides the incredible amount of sheer Buffalo talent in the room (there was an astonishing number of other bands in attendance, including representatives from The Malones, Nelson-Type, and plenty other bands), an interesting phenomenon occurred - all four bands sold the same amount of tickets, and most of them were sold the day of. There was no hierarchy or fight for who played first, second, third, and whatever else. The show just was what it was, and everyone enjoyed a solid crowd. Most people stayed for the entire show.

That's the thing about bands in this genre, specifically in this case, like Real People...  This show on Saturday wasn't one you'd expect to see with the full stage treatment. Every now and then, a few of us get a lucky break and catch a great opening slot at the Tralf or something. But Real People is a prime example of a band meant to be seen in basements. No one had to sell tickets to that show - people were going to come out to support it no matter what.

I've always admired Real People's rawness, but their new EP, Ceilings, got the full GCR/Jay Zubricky treatment. For anyone familiar with their catalog, you'll be relieved to know that singer Landon Sworts keeps his half-madman shriek and drummer Roy Draves still pounds his drums like no other, but all the rough edges of their earlier recordings have been smoothed. This is Real People as no one has ever seen them before. These guys have been around for a while - it's refreshing to hear them from a new perspective.

Album opener "Someone" could be one of the best songs Thursday never wrote... I love Real People's rhythm section; every hit and every note always seems so "deliberate." What I mean by that is, most of the time, RP is a chaotic sounding band... But the drums and bass in their songs always feel so straightforward in the best way. It leaves room for the spiraling, twangy guitar lines and Sworts' relentless howl. "Everything I Touch" is no exception - the band launches into a slow build-up mid song that proves they are more than just a snotty, melodic-punk band.

Speaking of snotty, "I Have Better Memories With My Friends" is a true highlight. Sworts sings, "We can call it a tie, you said you got what you wanted... So did I." That's just the thing about his vocals - Sworts pretty much just sings whatever he wants whenever he wants. Sometimes it reminds me of Moneen and sometimes it reminds me of La Dispute, but in reality, Real People are in a category of their own. The songs are passionate and unique. You really do have to hand it to Real People - they are a great fit in the emo/punk scene, but there really is no one else writing songs in the same way.

Last on the record is the fantastic "Downpour," which (if I'm not mistaken), Real People closed with at their CD release. It's not only a fitting end to the EP, but after the song was over at the show, it seemed like the crowd was giving the band a hard time for wanting to get off stage. These songs left them wanting more. But as for Real People... they got up on stage, they played what they wanted to, said what they had to say, and then that was it. I would have loved to see more myself, but I think that's the great thing about Real People. I have seen a hundred of their peers come and go...  But they exist because they want to.