Bonnie 'Prince' Billy, The Wonder Show of the World, Domino, 2010

This may sound corny, but I still remember the first time I heard Will Oldham. It was one of those life affirming moments that just stick with you and I'm not embrassed to say that it changed the way I thought about not only music but humanity and the world itself. In some small way it made me a better person, and while I may be a total shit, there is a part of me hanging in some basement somewhere that is still decent enough to sit through a whole Bonnie 'Prince' Billy album without getting cynical.

But no one ever calls him on his shit, and there's this general reverential air about him whenever he so much as opens his mouth that is dangerous. Some of the things Oldham has done are downright stupid, such as the time he, Will Oldham, re-recorded the music he made under the moniker Palace, under his current name Bonnie 'Prince' Billy, the most self-indulgent and narcisstic moment of the 2000s. A moment a lot of ciritics (well, me, really) sort of gave up on the idea of indie rock as a living-breathing form of music. Oldham's work has always been more about the image - the backwoods Appalachian outsider artist that never lived in in the mountains and has been commercially and critcally embraced since his debut - than the actual music.

But Oldham has a way of redeeming himself with each transgression that's impossibly endearing. Wonder Show, his sixteenth release, bears witness to Oldham's slow rebirth as the quiet arbiter of antebellum wisdom and bromantically bearded harmonizing ala Fleet Foxes that's so fashionable these days. The opening track "Troublesome Houses" is a simple, folksy acoustic ballad that wouldn't seem out of place on a Crosby, Stills, and Nash meets James Taylor concept album. As would the collossal "The Sounds are Always Begging" - a plaintive ballad about the destruction of a family and the protective recluse that is music.

At times Oldham wheedles into the abstract lo-fi compositions that have plagued his work in the past. "Where Wind Blows" and "With Cornstalks Among Them" find the harmony and grace of the above tracks dissolving into spontaneous warblings that blur the lines between gospel majesty and indie rock in a way that is surprisingly workable yet somewhat unfinished, like a project or experiement instead of a fully formed song. Oldham's distinctive voice mixes well with that of Emmett Kelly (of the Cairo Gang, Oldham's backing band on this record), unlocking harmonic points that thread together with a lonely precision that's both pathetic and remote, glorious and unheard of in their own way - the essence of a great Oldham work. Highly reccommended for fans and newcomers alike.

Blast from the Past #1 - PUKE-O-RAMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Fast, loud, and retarded."

That's how Jeremy Yoho describes the sound of the band he used to front, Topeka metal-punk misfits, Puke-O-Rama and, looking back, that's probably the most accurate description possible. Raucous, beligerant, and staunchly anti-social, the band formed in the mid-90s as a trio, the brainchild of guitarist/songwriter Seth Coulter who wrote songs about worshipping Satan, rioting against the cops, hating the fire department... All normal teenage stuff. Yoho was brought in later as a vocalist and the band gave several memorable performances in basements and abandoned houses in and around Topeka/Lawrence.

"Everyone in the band but me was really pretty talented," Yoho recalls.

Blurring the lines between metal and punk was the bands calling card. They mixed grindcore and melody, chaos and collision with tight riffs, and lyrically lambasted everything from love to music, even offering dance advice to listeners.

"Don't do the pogo / When you're jumping up and down / If you do the pogo /I'll knock you on the ground," sang Yoho in the appropriately named party classic "Don't Do the Pogo".

Unfortunately, Puke-O-Rama never amounted to much. The band recorded a split demo with fellow Topeka punks Count Zero in 1995 and Yoho left the band soon after. The remaining members continued on as a trio for a bit before disbanding in the late 90s. Yoho joined the army last year.

"I spend 50% of my time sitting on a mountaintop in Egypt," he says. "Sounds mystical - but it really isn't. The air's thin and it gets mighty cold at night. Presently, I'm sitting in my federally sanctioned bedroom a little bit closer to civilization and I just woke up with a wicked hangover. I don't really drink anymore though, at least not much, so I don't know how that happened."

Puke-O-Rama's legacy, however, is undeniable.

"I heard a guitar riff on the new Metallica album that was exactly the same as one that Seth used," Yoho says. "Not kidding. I'd accuse them of ripping us off if I didn't know that there is no way in hell they've ever subjected themselves to our demo."

Spoon, Transference, Merge Records, 2010

From the beginning Spoon has always seemed like a career rather than a rock band, and leader Britt Daniel has always seemed like more of an investment manager than a rocker, more Colonel Parker than Elvis, more Malcolm Mclaren than Sid Vicious. Spoon has been the next big thing for the last fifteen years but have never pulled their tour van over the hump, and there's a good reason for that. Spoon has always epitomized what people distrusted about indie rock - they're pretentious, pregnant with their own self esteem, and hung up on a smug confidence in their own abilities.

Like Wilco's Jeff Tweedy, bandleader Britt Daniel has always wanted to "make it" in the real world, and has had a sense of entitlement to rock stardom that never sat well with the listening public. Even as the biggest and most respected indie rocker in the land Daniel has seemed unhappy, ready to compromise whatever necessary in his desire to transcend his meager, but dedicated fanbase.

Spoon has never made a great album. They've done some great songs but have never been able to hold it together long enough to really wow someone. Until now. While Transference, their seventh full length, may not be a 'This is Our Music" statement, it is a "My my, hey hey" kiss off to the both the haters and lovers that have expected so much out of the band. Dropping most of the pretensions that have plagued the band, Daniel strips the sound down to the basics and does what he does best: basic, rooty rock ditties that are flightly enough to dance to but still have the teeth to stick in your head all the live long day. It's quirky without being weird, poppy without pandering and it's the first Spoon album that just seems like a Spoon album, rather than an attempt to set or defy trends. Daniel is not a trendsetter. He's not a rebel either. He's not a lyrical genius, and he's not a guitar god. He never has been. He's the leader of a decent rock band of mild influence and appeal. For once he seems to be comfortable with that. Now he can finally get to work. - Stacks

The Brian Jonestown Massacre - Who Killed Sgt Peppers? - 2010

The Brian Jonestown Massacre, Who Killed Sgt Peppers?, A Records, 2010
Back in the day a new release from BJM just meant that a new week had begun. The band was so prolific, it seemed impossible to keep up with them. But ever since bandleader Anton Newcombe defected to Iceland, the band's release dates have become such special occasions that even longtime devotees can feel like a tuxedo and a scented invitation are required just to listen to their new stuff. Which isn't a bad thing. If there is one band out there that has paid their dues, it is BJM, and that dedication to keeping it real allows for a certain amount of well, understanding. So they've cleaned up, kicked the drugs (supposedly), and started writing lyrics in French. But does that mean they've gotten better?

That depends. The gritty, schizo genius that characterized their early work has largely evaporated over the years, and while Who Killed Sgt Peppers? shows flashes of the chaotic brilliance Newcombe was once possessed with, most of the album seems to trip itself into dance dance electronica Eurotrash shit. It lacks an organic feel and seems like it was made by a machine,rather than a human, like a Kraftwerk album. Even stand out tracks like "Unger Hinfr" are cold and lonesome sounding, as if, when you drop all the badass swirling dissonance and sassy vocals, the song itself just wants a big fat hug.

Newcombe's always been fiercly independent and adamant about following his own creative vision and dancing with the voices in his head, but as a songwriter he's always wanted us to join in. At times, he was the closest thing to John Lennon most of us had ever seen. I'm not sure that's the case anymore, which is a shame.
-stacks

Local Album of the Year! 2009 Edition

Local Music
Album of the Year
Charles McVey, Animal, Impure Records
There were several great releases this year by local bands. Lawrence's Left on Northwood unleashed a monster at the beginning of the year with Gut Check Personality; veteran Topeka rockers Backlash finally unveiled their self-titled magnum opus, a fist in the air rock-on statement that was hard to ignore; and then, of course, there's Kick Kick, whose Powerplay was a flawless power pop masterpiece that still hasn't left our office stereo. But, despite the quality of those releases and several others, one album just kept kicking around our heads here at The Point, Charles McVey's gutsy, passionate, and thought provoking Animal.


It is dificult to single out one reason why Animal was chosen. It is a very listenable album of piano driven college rock that sways from the intimate to the furious with ease. Anchored by his longtime, outstanding rhythm section of Max Paley (bass) and Erik Kessinger (whose drumming is a real bright spot), McVey comfortably excercises his well-honed (and underappreciated) talents as a songwriter. It's the most focused he's ever been, and his gruff, sexy voice hovers over the recording like the angel of some broke down old time blues singer. The production, as well, is remarkable - nearly everything about this album, even the saxophone (Dan Kozak) is perfectly executed.
But Animal is more than a pop album. On the surface it is a deeply personal exploration of one mans sexual identity in relationship to his faith, and his decision to relinquish his faith because of it's hypocrisy. It is an incredibly bold statement about religion and humanity that few artists (local or otherwise) would have the balls to make. But it is more than that. Throughout the album, McVey asks questions we all should be asking, demands answers that we all should demand of our authority figures, and makes decisions we should make based on the (lack of) response received. At heart, Animal is not the personal album it was billed as, but a defiant social statement that cuts to the heart of the state of modern man. It's an album of disconnect, confusion, and, ultimately, the enlightenment that comes from the realization that all of the authority thrust on us, be it spiritual, governmental, social, or parental, does not equal love. And that nothing is more important than love. Nothing. Congratulations Mr McVey, you've made one for the ages, and made a few lives better. - Marshall Stacks
Contact Charles through his Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/charlessmcvey

End of Year / End of Decade Best of Lists!

The end of the year is time to give thanks to the hardworking souls who write the stuff you read here in The Point. These folks sit at their desks for hours, staring at glowing monitors, battling hangover induced writers block and urges to just go fuck it all and get that job at WalMart their mothers keep telling them they should have, just to move a little love into the world in the form of an honest, well thought out review, interview, or editorial. Ironically enough, here at The Point, gratitude is shown with copies of The Beatles Remastered box set (which none of us could afford and were to afraid to steal online) and the option to do end of year lists instead of actually write something. This year, being the end of the decade, allows for an added bonus - best of the decade lists. Sure they're annoying and cumbersome, pretentious and forgettable, but please indulge us for a minute or two. Speaking of which... For those you out there who think that music journalists aren't an integral part of your "scene": I don't care how many hits you have on your MySpace, or how much "the industry is changing", no one is going to take your shitty band seriously for long without friendly writers to tell them why they should listen to you. Good music + good journalism = rock stars and underpaid journalists. Just keep giving me the free records and I'm happy. - Stacks

Magnus Cooper. Contributing writer, expert on noise rock and pretentious indie rock, leader of the second wave of 'spock rock'.
Best of 2009
No surprises here, guys. I like what I like, hate what I hate. Can't kill the fuzz. Kill the fuzz. Happy new year, everyone!
1. The Paper Chase, Someday this Could All Be Yours, Kill Rock*s
2. Lightning Bolt, Earthly Delights, Load Records
3. Animal Collective, Merriweather Post Pavillion, Domino Records
4. Raekwon, Only Built for Cuban Linx... Pt. II, EMI Records
5. Dirty Projectors, Bitte Orca, Domino Records
Faves, 2000-2009
1. Black Dice, Beaches and Canyons, Domino Records, 2002
2. Bright Eyes, Lifted (or The Story is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground), Saddle Creek, 2002
3. Radiohead, Kid A, Capitol Records, 2000
4. Lightning Bolt, Hypermagic Mountain, Load Records, 2005
5. Lightning Bolt, Earthly Delights, Load Records, 2009
6. Panda Bear, Young Prayer, Paw Tracks, 2004
7. Bon Iver, For Emma, Forever Ago, Jagjaguwar, 2008
8. Cheveu, Cheveu, Born Bad Records, 2008
9. Dirty Projectors, Bitte Orca, Domino Records, 2009
10. Converge, Jane Doe, Equal Vision Records, 2001

Marshall Stacks: Music editor, The Point, last true Ramones fan, pain in the ass.
What a year, what a decade (sigh)! I'll give it a try...
2009
1. Neil Young, Archives Volume I, 1963-1972, Reprise Records
2. The Beatles Remasters, Capitol Records
3. Thirteenth Floor Elevators, Sign of the Three Eyed Men (Box Set), International Artists
4. Wolf Eyes, Always Wrong, Sub Pop
5. The Thermals, Now We Can See, Kill Rock *s
Decade (Note: The Avett Brothers would have been higher if not for their last release...)
1. Ramones, Ramones (Reissue), Sire / Rhino
2. Ramones, Road to Ruin (Reissue), Sire / Rhino
3. Ramones, Leave Home (Reissue), Sire / Rhino
4. Ramones, Rocket to Russia (Reissue), Sire / Rhino
5. The Exploding Hearts, Guitar Romantic, Dirtnap Records, 2003
6. Radiohead, Amnesiac, Capitol Records, 2001
7. Tom Waits, Alice, Anti, 2002
8. Television, Adventure (Reissue), Elektra, 2005
9. Neko Case and Her Boyfriends, Furnace Room Lullaby, Bloodshot Records, 2000
10. The Avett Brothers, Introducing... Emotionalism, Ramseur Records, 2007

Jack Partain, Editor, The Point. AKA, "the guy that isn't going to let Marshall write smart ass comments about him here".
'09
1. The Felice Brothers, Yonder is the Clock, Team Love Records
2. The Flaming Lips, Embryonic, Capitol Records
3. The Mountain Goats, The Life of the World to Come, 4AD
4. Vic Chesnut, At the Cut, Constellation Records
5. Assjack, Assjack, Curb Records
Decade
1. Godspeed You! Black Emporer, Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antenna's To Heaven, Constellation Records, 2000
2. Sodastream, Looks Like a Russian, Trifecta Records, 2000
3. Whiskeytown, Pnuemonia, Lost Highway, 2001
4. Sun Kil Moon, Ghosts of the Great Highway, Caldo Verde Records, 2003
5. The Mountain Goats, Tallahassee, 4AD, 2002
6. Red House Painters, Old Ramone, Sub Pop, 2001
7. The Great Lake Swimmers, Ongiara, Nettwork Records, 2007
8. Royal City, Little Hearts Ease, Rough Trade, 2004
9. The Avett Brothers, Introducing... Emotionalism, Ramseur Records, 2004
10. The Mountain Goats, The Coroners Gambit, Absolutely Kosher, 2000

The Avett Brothers - I and Love and You - Review

The Avett Brothers, I and Love and You, American Recordings, 2009
After 2007's Introducing... Emotionalism, I drunkenly christened Concord, NC's grunge folkers The Avett Brothers "the new face of American masculinity". While I may be unwilling to go that far again without the aid of copious amounts of Southern Comfort, I maintain that Emotionalism is a monumental achievment in the new Americana movement, which, coupled with the band's legendary live show, went on to boost the profile of one of the hardest working and honest bands out there. Which seemed like a good thing.
And then came Rick Rubin, American Recordings, and their latest release I and Love and You. Stripped down and basic in it's approach, I+L+Y will sound great to the thousands of new ears it'll reach, but will disappoint long time fans for one tragic reason. The Avett Brothers, those hard working, fun loving boys that gave their all on stage and sang about kissing pretty girls and were always grateful just to be here, have become the worst thing imaginable: adults. Not men, mind you. Adults. Penny pinching, career concerned, morally compromised adults. Whereas Emotionalism was a frill filled ramble that careened recklessly through genres and emotions, gnashing and biting at the complications and frustrations of being human, I+L+U limps it's way through ten radio friendly songs that barely scratch the surface, and, in fact, leave no mark at all. But it'll help Starbucks baristas meet chicks, I promise.
It's not that it's a bad album - it's just that it's a sellout, and no serious critic can say otherwise. It has no teeth, no presence, nothing essential to it and I+L+U diminishes their entire body of work. The title track is about how hard it is to tell someone that you love them. Thanks, guys. Couldn't have gleaned that from the last Springsteen album.
Gone is the raw tension between being an honest or dishonest human being, a man or a just some dude that came through on Emotionalism. I+L+U is a band succumbing to the pressures of commercialism, pressures which The Avett's put on themselves, which is the real knife in the back. You can sit here all day and say I'm an asshole for deriding a band for wanting to be successful, and none of it will matter. These guys compromised themselves and we have enough people willing to compromise themselves, not only in rock music, but this world in general. We don't need any more.
If The Avett's want to drag themselves out of obscurity and into Carnegie Hall that's fine with me. I hope this album sells a trillion copies and Rubin makes a lot of money. I hope The Avett's don't have to play shitty festivals in Lawrence anymore, or record beautiful versions of Jessica Mayfield songs in hallways anymore if that's what they want. Good luck and good riddance. I'm off to search for new heroes.
-stacks

On the Corner: Kick Kick, Zen and the Art of Not Fucking Around

You'd better get on the bandwagon now because Kick Kick is going to be huge. One day you're gonna hear these guys on the radio (people still listen to the radio?) or see them on MTV (people still watch that?) and say, you know, that Stacks dude was right. These four guys from Johnson County can't be stopped. After a full summer of shows which found them playing on rooftops and opening for American Idol David Cook, Kick Kick is quickly making a name for themselves as the perfect pop conscience of north east Kansas.
"The summer has been great," says guitarist JB Kick. "We're on a totally different level of performing now. "
Known for their outlandish and highly energetic stage show, Kick Kick has been on a constant mini tour of the area since the release of their brilliant debut album, Powerplay, which is a perfect blend of modern sensibility and '60s pop principles.
"We've received some rave reviews and some confused reviews," Kick continues. "The confused ones are funny and they aren't negative. The critics just don't know what to make of us."
Powerplay is a bit of a shock at first listen. Hooked around the band's idea of "boss", Kick Kick's music is catchy and poppy, but not in a catchy, poppy way. It's revolutionary, but not political. Most importantly, Kick Kick's musical philosophy adheres to the basic truth of rock and roll: it's so much fun it should be illegal. Which is why all those people got so pissed about Elvis back in the day, and why critics are confused by Kick Kick today.
"We want our music to do for people what "Louie, Louie" or "The Bird is the Word" did," Kick says.
"It is our intention to redefine what music for the masses is."
As the band continues their crusade to save the soul of rock 'n roll, their own evolution continues as well.
"We made Powerplay without having ever played a show," Kick says, which is amazing.
"When we started playing shows we quickly realized that we are something like a hard garage punk band. Our live sound is very different than the sound on that album."
As the band evolves, they also grow up. Kick Kick recently hosted a benefit concert in St Joseph, MO for the local Second Harvest Food Bank.
"We want to get in the habit of putting on at least one charity event a year," Kick says.
"St Joseph was chosen because myself and Star Boss were both born there and we had heard some disturbing statistics about the number of hungry children, seniors, and families in St Joe."
And in the future?
"Next year it's all about taking it to the next level," Kick says. "We want to get into the big festivals, go on a real tour. We're making a music video or two, or three. And we're going to sell a little over 5 million copies of our record."
Good luck, guys.
http://www.kickkickmusic.com/

Lou Barlow - Goodnight Unknown - Review

Lou Barlow, Goodnight Unknown, Merge Records, 2009
Much like George W Bush, Lou Barlow is one of America's great
over-achievers. Dude spent the '90s doing little more than fucking around,
the greatest bullshitter in a decade full of great bullshitters, haphazardly
goldmining a lo-fi movement he would later disassociate himself from, and
every once in a while releasing a truly great song like "Soul and Fire"
or "Skull" just to keep everyone at arms length of the joke he was playing
on them. I know he has his fans and benefactors (including the editor of
this publication) but the fact is 99% of what Lou Barlow has done is crap,
and, more than anyone, he is responsible for the punk-ass succubus Stephen Malkmus has become.
That said, I was surprised when Barlow reemerged with the intimate masterpiece Emoh in 2005, and even more surprised by Goodnight Unknown. For the first time in his life the old fart has mustered the courage to release two consistent albums on his own, devoid of filler, inside jokes, or happenstance. As with Emoh, the songs on Goodnight are careful and precise, note for note mature and professional, even while exploring the fuzzed out warblings of Sebadoh on the opener "Sharing" or when flirting with the old lazy lo-fi he popularized ("Praise"). Barlow consistently resists the urge to wander into the maddening madness of slackerish distraction, in which he previously indulged. He ain't punk rock anymore, which is cool. Most of his fans aren't either, and never were, and the massive miscalculations he made with projects like Sentridoh may one day be erased by the apologies inherent in his latest releases. -stacks