Post by Zapp Brannigan on Feb 6, 2011 23:47:00 GMT -5
www.lifessweetbreath.com/reviews/albums/24-party-shore.html
The Dirtbombs - Party Store[/i]
[In The Red, 2011]
58%
I have to be upfront about something: when I first read a few weeks ago that the new record from The Dirtbombs, entitled Party Store, was going to consist entirely of covers of Detroit techno songs, I was admittedly both a little surprised and a little confused. Techno wasn’t something I had previously associated with Detroit; like many, I automatically and instinctively thought of Detroit as Detroit Rock City, the launching pad for legendary hard-rocking artists such as Iggy & the Stooges, MC5, Bob Seger, and Alice Cooper and later, for contemporary garage-rock heroes such as The White Stripes, The Von Bondies, and, well, The Dirtbombs. This all fit snugly in with what little I knew of the city of Detroit itself—mostly that it lives and dies by the automobile industry. Hell, if Detroit is the automobile industry’s capital, the “Motor City,” then it would only be right that the music for which it was known would be called “garage rock.” But, I’ve never lived within 400 miles of Detroit, and apparently there’s a whole lot more to it than just cars, burnt-down factories, and garage rock.
Not only was techno music popular in Detroit in the mid-1980s to 1990s, many places even have Detroit down as the birthplace of Techno, both as a term and a musical style. Artists such as Juan Atkins, Kevin Saunderson, and Derrick May (lovingly referred to sometimes as the Belleville Three after the suburb of Detroit that all three grew up in) made music that focused less on stringed instruments and more on buttons and knobs. It was more technologically experimental than any music that preceded it, and as such, they shortened it simply to “techno.” Of course, there had been electronic albums before the Belleville Three, possibly most notably the ambient works of Brian Eno, but perhaps the defining feature of techno—both early and contemporary—is that, whereas people like Eno made electronic music for the emotion behind it, techno was and is music that actually attempts to sound like technological progress, music that wouldn’t be entirely out of place as the soundtrack for a computer game (albeit, in some cases, a really good soundtrack). And, ultimately, it makes sense that in Detroit, a place so centered around and ultimately so damaged by the progress of technology and machinery, that a music form would be born that so centered around technology.
When a band like The Dirtbombs, though, known for their dirty, soul-infused garage rock, announces that they’re going to do an entire album of covers of Detroit techno, one would be right to wonder how it’ll pan out. But, Mick Collins is a guy who’s always been clear in his loyalty to and love of Detroit, so it almost makes sense that he’d want to do an album like this as a paean to Detroit music history. Unfortunately, though, the awkwardness between his band’s strengths and the genre of techno music is felt early and often on the album. The first track on the record, “Cosmic Cars,” is a cover of an Atkins and Richard Davis (collectively under the name 3070) track from 1982. Instead of using synthesizers and keyboards the way Atkins and Davis did, though, Collins and his band attempt to transpose that melody into a meaty guitar riff and the results are underwhelming and monotonous. They take this same scuzzy, aggressive approach on most of the songs on the album and, as a result, similar results are found on most of the record; tracks like “Good Life” and especially the 20-plus minute “Bug in the Bass Bin” plod along for far too long without having much of an effect on the listener, melodically or emotionally. Most of the songs simply sound too limited, without the intrigue that might’ve come with hearing computer noises for the first time in the 1980s.
That’s not to say that there aren’t some deliciously funky electo-rock tunes on the album, though. “Strings of Life,” for instance, has pulsating soul that carries along its crunchy guitar riff and snappy percussion. All in all, it’s a noble effort from Collins and his bandmates as an homage to some of their heroes growing up in Detroit. Even the energy they bring to the tracks is palpable, but the awkward clash of computer noises being played on distorted guitars is simply too much for even a garage band this great to overcome.
-KyleA. Rosko, February 6, 2011
The Dirtbombs - Party Store[/i]
[In The Red, 2011]
58%
I have to be upfront about something: when I first read a few weeks ago that the new record from The Dirtbombs, entitled Party Store, was going to consist entirely of covers of Detroit techno songs, I was admittedly both a little surprised and a little confused. Techno wasn’t something I had previously associated with Detroit; like many, I automatically and instinctively thought of Detroit as Detroit Rock City, the launching pad for legendary hard-rocking artists such as Iggy & the Stooges, MC5, Bob Seger, and Alice Cooper and later, for contemporary garage-rock heroes such as The White Stripes, The Von Bondies, and, well, The Dirtbombs. This all fit snugly in with what little I knew of the city of Detroit itself—mostly that it lives and dies by the automobile industry. Hell, if Detroit is the automobile industry’s capital, the “Motor City,” then it would only be right that the music for which it was known would be called “garage rock.” But, I’ve never lived within 400 miles of Detroit, and apparently there’s a whole lot more to it than just cars, burnt-down factories, and garage rock.
Not only was techno music popular in Detroit in the mid-1980s to 1990s, many places even have Detroit down as the birthplace of Techno, both as a term and a musical style. Artists such as Juan Atkins, Kevin Saunderson, and Derrick May (lovingly referred to sometimes as the Belleville Three after the suburb of Detroit that all three grew up in) made music that focused less on stringed instruments and more on buttons and knobs. It was more technologically experimental than any music that preceded it, and as such, they shortened it simply to “techno.” Of course, there had been electronic albums before the Belleville Three, possibly most notably the ambient works of Brian Eno, but perhaps the defining feature of techno—both early and contemporary—is that, whereas people like Eno made electronic music for the emotion behind it, techno was and is music that actually attempts to sound like technological progress, music that wouldn’t be entirely out of place as the soundtrack for a computer game (albeit, in some cases, a really good soundtrack). And, ultimately, it makes sense that in Detroit, a place so centered around and ultimately so damaged by the progress of technology and machinery, that a music form would be born that so centered around technology.
When a band like The Dirtbombs, though, known for their dirty, soul-infused garage rock, announces that they’re going to do an entire album of covers of Detroit techno, one would be right to wonder how it’ll pan out. But, Mick Collins is a guy who’s always been clear in his loyalty to and love of Detroit, so it almost makes sense that he’d want to do an album like this as a paean to Detroit music history. Unfortunately, though, the awkwardness between his band’s strengths and the genre of techno music is felt early and often on the album. The first track on the record, “Cosmic Cars,” is a cover of an Atkins and Richard Davis (collectively under the name 3070) track from 1982. Instead of using synthesizers and keyboards the way Atkins and Davis did, though, Collins and his band attempt to transpose that melody into a meaty guitar riff and the results are underwhelming and monotonous. They take this same scuzzy, aggressive approach on most of the songs on the album and, as a result, similar results are found on most of the record; tracks like “Good Life” and especially the 20-plus minute “Bug in the Bass Bin” plod along for far too long without having much of an effect on the listener, melodically or emotionally. Most of the songs simply sound too limited, without the intrigue that might’ve come with hearing computer noises for the first time in the 1980s.
That’s not to say that there aren’t some deliciously funky electo-rock tunes on the album, though. “Strings of Life,” for instance, has pulsating soul that carries along its crunchy guitar riff and snappy percussion. All in all, it’s a noble effort from Collins and his bandmates as an homage to some of their heroes growing up in Detroit. Even the energy they bring to the tracks is palpable, but the awkward clash of computer noises being played on distorted guitars is simply too much for even a garage band this great to overcome.
-KyleA. Rosko, February 6, 2011