CD Odyssey Disc 1785: Pylon

Happy American Thanksgiving! After a short but very hard week at work, I have taken today off (as is my tradition) to relax and watch American football.

Despite all the coming festivities of the day, I awoke to find myself out of sorts. After a failed and feeble attempt to sleep in, I’ve decided to engage in a little writing therapy. The result, Gentle Reader, is this humble entry in this ongoing CD Odyssey thing I do.

Disc 1785 is…Gyrate Plus

Artist: Pylon

Year of Release: 1980 (the Plus part 2007)

What’s up with the Cover? I’m not sure. Given the band’s name, my first thought was it had to be a pylon, but it just looked more like a hat.

So I asked Sheila. She took a hard look and after a moment declared “hat,” confirming my initial bias. So I’m going with ‘hat’. Four hats, in fact.

Also, in case you’re wondering this is the CD cover; that ring of “record damage” you see is an artistic affectation which does not appear on the original vinyl. Unless of course, you store your records poorly. Then it will appear.

How I Came To Know It: For the second straight review, this is a record I discovered after reading about it in a “best of” article on Paste Magazine. This time it was “Best 50 New Wave Albums” although knowing Paste, the list might’ve been shorter when they first posted and they’ve added to it.

Either way, I dug through the various records I didn’t know and again found a few that appealed, including “Gyrate”.

How It Stacks Up: Pylon released three albums in their short career, but I’ve only got the one, so it can’t stack up.

Ratings: 4 stars

When does anxiety feel good? The answer, dear readers is “almost never”, but listening to “Gyrate” is the exception that proves the rule. This record wraps its anxious beats and shrieks in music that makes you want to dance the tension away. Never has foreboding felt more relaxing.

For those who’ve arrived looking for some folk/rock/indie situation, you are about to be disappointed. Pylon is a New Wave/Punk crossover and the guitar you’ll hear is mostly employed as either doing some strange accent sounds or serving as yet another piece of percussion. Beats and bass lines rule these waters.

And lest you think that water reference implies some tranquil latter-day Pink Floyd shit, let me disavow you of such notions. These waters are choppy, and while the forward lean of the beat and the overall production of this record are New Wave in flavour, the visceral attack applied is pure punk rock. “Gyrate” doesn’t straddle the two styles so much as demonstrate that they descend from a common ancestor.

Singer Vanessa Briscoe Hay is exactly what these songs call for, as she spits out a repetition of phrases that eschew telling a tale in favour of setting a mood. More often than not that mood involves a lot of nervous energy. Something is happening, but the details are dismissed in favour of how that something makes you feel.

Case in point, “Dub”, where Hay repeatedly sing/shouts “I’ll redouble efforts” over the beat. What is this redoubling of effort regarding? Wrong question! This is a song about the emotional toil of redoubling efforts, of the internal demand we place on ourselves when we undertake such a redoubling. Leave those details to the troubadours!

“Dub” is a song you won’t get on the original “Gyrate”. My copy is the 2007 re-release named “Gyrate Plus” with bonus content. The additions are all contemporaneous with the original record, and equally good, so their presence is surprisingly seamless. It’s a good thing, too, because Pylon doesn’t do the usual “tag ‘em on as bonus tracks” game. They put two at the front of the record, two at the back and scatter a final pair through the middle. I think it makes the record better, and I expect only the limitations of vinyl in 1980 prevented something similar then.

“Yeah”, you sneer, “but can you dance to this stuff?” First of all, there is no need to sneer, but yes you can totally dance to it. Just don’t expect to bust out your best disco moves. This music is for a lot of ping pong dancing and getting your thrash on. Not in the aggressive metal style (also cool) but in that insular, introverted “we’re all dancing alone together – don’t look at me!” kind of way that punk has always been great for.

Some of the songs are a bit lighter in the arrangement and others more approaching hard core, but they all have a similar tempo and feel. This causes the record to blend together as a single listening experience, which is good and bad. On the good side, you can just sink into “Gyrate” and enter a kind of fugue state of elemental emotion that you likely won’t emerge from until almost an hour later. On the bad side, if you aren’t fully in the moment, you may emerge early and wonder, “is it done yet?”

This is the one downside to the “Plus” on the “Gyrate Plus”. It pushes the record to 16 songs and almost 60 minutes of music. It left me thinking that it may be better to just leave some of that excess in the studio, but it just feels wrong to pull any piece out of the record. It’s all good. Remarkable given it is a record with stuff added in.

Best tracks:  Cool*, Dub*, Volume, Feast on My Heart, Weather Radio, Danger, Working is No Problem, Stop It

*only on the “Plus” version of the album. All others, from the original

CD Odyssey Disc 1784: Green on Red

Here we go with another review. This record is from the mid-eighties, but I didn’t discover it until a few years ago. In the mid-eighties I was in a “metal only” kind of mood. I still love metal, but I’ve recovered from the myopia that afflicted my youth.

Disc 1784 is…Gas Food Lodging

Artist: Green on Red

Year of Release: 1985

What’s up with the Cover? These stripes look like when your printer is low on one colour of ink. Replace the cartridge and this is probably just an ordinary sunset.

Also there is a a road sign advertising – as you might expect - gas, food, and lodging.

How I Came To Know It: I read about it in an article on Paste Magazine. Not a straight up review, but one of those “Top albums” articles that are always fun to read to see 1) what you already have 2) what you’d like to check out and 3) where you vehemently disagree.

In this case it was something called “Top 50 Alt Country Albums of All Time” As you can see, they’ve since updated the list to add 20 more albums, but the URL gives away the original scope.

Of the 70 albums on that list, I own 36, a number of which I discovered by digging into the list, so thank you, Paste Magazine!

“Gas Food Lodging” has proved nigh impossible to find on physical media so earlier this year I broke down and bought a digital copy.

How It Stacks Up: This is my only Green on Red album, so it can’t stack up.

Ratings: 3 stars but almost 4

“Gas Food Lodging” sounds grimy. Like an old car covered in dirt that once washed reveals that half the discoloration you thought was dirt is actually rust. Decay under decay.

Part of this is the arrangement, which has a heavy guitar focus, with plenty of reverb. The space is filled from the very beginning with a lot of sound and even though the songs are melodically simple, they tend to hang heavy in the air, like wildfire smoke or a dust storm.

The record is also infected with mid-eighties production that makes things jangle a bit, with very little bottom end. Unlike many other mid-eighties records though, here it is a feature, not a bug. It makes it harder to focus in on singer/guitarist Dan Stuart’s work less immediate on the first listen. However, dig in a little and you’ll be rewarded. Stuart plays in a gritty late eighties Neil Young style, fully committed to torturing the electricity out of the instrument.

Stuart’s vocals also suit the arrangements and production. He has that high wailing vibrato that I associate with college rock bands you might here at the student centre bar on a Thursday night. This is not a bad thing. It feels raw and unrehearsed, which is the energy the songs call for.

That narrative is of down-and-out characters and tales of an underclass being left behind by their own society. This is the soundtrack to homeless encampments, as heard from the window of a passing pickup truck, full of kids with empty stomachs wondering how close they are to the same fate.

One of the best of these is “Sixteen Ways” a song in the same depressing tradition of Dylan’s classic “Ballad of Hollis Brown”. “Sixteen Ways” ends bereft of hope, its narrator singing:

“I worked so hard for 40 years
I told myself I had nothing to fear
Then one by one they got shot down
The youngest one held a gun to his ear

“They ain't coming back
It's too late
They shot my babies but
They killed my faith”

In the depths of this tragic event, you are dug one step deeper into despair, past personal loss and into a dark and spiritually bereft hole.

Despite the record’s dark themes, it has a restless and anxious energy throughout that sounds like it will be painful but is strangely cathartic. Or put another way, it’s depressing, but you won’t mind.

Do I agree with Paste Magazine that this is a top 50 alt country album of all time (or even a top 70)? Reader, I do not, but I do agree that it is a solid record that still sounds fresh and compelling almost 40 years after its release, and that’s not nothing. What it does, it does very well, and like all good records, it gets better over repeat listens.

Best tracks:  That’s What Dreams Are Made For, Fadin’ Away, Sixteen Ways, Sea of Cortez

CD Odyssey Disc 1783: Ngozi Family

It’s rare that the CD Odyssey finds an album that’s avoided getting reviewed for a decade or more, but it still happens. This next record is one of those, but it was worth the wait.

Disc 1783 is…Day of Judgment

Artist: Ngozi Family

Year of Release: 1976

What’s up with the Cover? An old school sepia photo of the band surrounded by a bunch of groovy graphics. The boys I the picture all have their hands clasped in prayer, likely on account of it being the day of judgment and all.

How I Came To Know It: I was in my local record store one day about ten years ago and I heard something awesome coming through the speakers. When I asked what was playing, the clerk told me “Ngozi Family”. I asked if he had a copy of whatever I was hearing. He did. I bought it.

How It Stacks Up: I have only one Ngozi Family record, although I also have 1977’s “The Ghetto” which is Paul Ngozi recording under his own name, presumably with a different band makeup. I count them together. When I reviewed “The Ghetto”’ (back at Disc 1007) I gave it 5 stars and assumed it was the best. While it is perfect, I’ve got to put the equally perfect “Day of Judgment” above it at #1.

Ratings: 5 stars

Ngozi Family is meat and potatoes hard rock like you’ve heard all your life, but played with such visceral joy that you’ll swear Paul Ngozi invented it. By the time you’re through “Day of Judgment” you’ll realize he’s reinvented rock and roll in his own image. Like Johnny Cash covers a song and makes it Johnny’s forever, Paul Ngozi takes an entire musical style and makes it his.

The core of “Day of Judgment” couldn’t be more basic on the surface. Ngozi loves the sound of a fuzzed out electric guitar, and he loves it a lot. On this, Paul and I agree. You’ll get strong undertones of Black Sabbath here, with songs that are front and centre about crunchy riffs that drill right into your spine. Somewhere halfway through the song there’ll be a shift and Ngozi will open up with some crazed distortion-filled solo that will feel completely out of control and completely purposeful at the same time.

It sounds simple, but the music is infused with such a festive joy you can’t resist the charm. It also has elements of African rhythms in the drums and melodic structure that takes this very basic rock and roll concept and infuses it with all manner of ear candy. Sometimes he warns you (“now I’m gonna blow my whistle” followed by…blowing his whistle). Sometimes the craziness just erupts. It’s a party where you’re never sure what will happen next, other than knowing it is going to get better and better.

“Kumanda Kwa Bambo Wanga” starts with a riff reminiscent of Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs” and then Ngozi throws in some awesome vocals in what I assume is a more traditional Zambian style (I’m no expert). I don’t know what the song is about, but I know that the combination of the African rhythms in the vocals and the Iommi-like guitar crunch is irresistible. And yes, halfway through Ngozi launches yet another distortion filled guitar solo. He captures the joy of a kid discovering what all the pedals can do, except with the expert application and timing of a master.

It is hard to pick the best song on a record full of greats, but when I want to get someone to love Ngozi Family, I usually go straight for “Hi Babe”. This is a song about nothing more complicated than going downtown to meet your buddies and say hi to passing girls, but never have I heard the tale told with such carefree and energetic joy.

On “Bwanawe” you think the blending is done, as Ngozi sticks almost exclusively to African rhythms at first, but it isn’t long before he’s thrown in a little guitar solo action in at the back end. He merges these sounds as naturally as breathing, and the more the two sounds blur together the better they sound.

That reinvented sound would eventually be a big part of what became known as “Zamrock” a rock and roll renaissance in the heart of Zambia. Much of the excellence that was made back then never survived. Lost masters, lack of recording equipment and a host of other twists of fate and ill-fortune. We’re lucky to still have masterpieces like “Day of Judgment” that survive to show us that bringing together different musical traditions can make for some great art.

Best tracks:  All tracks

CD Odyssey Disc 1782: Vera Sola

After a very busy week I’ve made it to another weekend. It is off to a good start, as my CD order from the UK arrived on Thursday night just in front of the Canada Post strike. This means my favourite new musical discovery – metal band Arkham Witch – is serving as the soundtrack to the weekend. Awesome.

This next review is also a recent discovery, also awesome, but very much unlike Arkham Witch.

Disc 1782 is…Peacemaker

Artist: Vera Sola

Year of Release: 2024

What’s up with the Cover? Looks like Vera Sola is building a house up in the high country. Building a house is hard work, particularly when the air is thinner, and Vera looks to have stopped briefly to swoon. A good swoon always restores one after a bout of the vapours.

Fear no, gentle readers! Before you know it she will be back up and busily installing drywall. Should another bout of swooning descend at least she’ll look resplendent it in that white and red dress as it overtakes her.

How I Came To Know It: I believe I read a review this album on “All Music” a website that provides a small number of reviews to go alongside a comprehensive listing of weekly new releases. Wondering if there’s anything new out by your favourite band? All Music can help you find out. Anyway, I liked how this record was described and decided to give it a chance. I liked it and before you know it I bought both “Peacemaker” and her 2018 release, “Shades”.

How It Stacks Up: I have two Vera Sola albums (which as far as I know is all of them). Of the two, I’ll put “Peacemaker” narrowly into second place.

Ratings: 4 stars

If you like a side of Gothic creepiness mixed in your pop music, then Vera Sola is for you. On “Peacemaker” she spins tales that at first merely intrigues, but after multiple listens blooms into a genuine haunting.

It is hard to describe Vera Sola’s music. It is a little bit of folk, a little pop and a little…secret midnight blood ritual? It is not the kind of immediately accessible tripe you’ll hear on a pop radio station. You’ll need to take a bit of time to let “Peacemaker” cast its spell on you, but if you give it the chance, the record has layers and layers of musical mystery to reveal.

Things begin, as they often do, with the voice. Vera Sola sings with an unconventional lilt that floats and ripples along the top of the melody. She’s a ghost calling you deeper into a gloomy marsh, but with an urgent beauty that makes you powerless to resist. She’s the bright white flower atop a carnivorous plant, the dappled sun reflecting off a lake where there has been a recent drowning.

Supporting this fell and phantomlike grace are some very innovative rhythms. The drums bounce around with the urgency of a haunted Latin dance party, where half your dance partners are vampires. Spanish flourishes tastefully dance around the edges of the songs. You’ll want to twirl with abandon and flip your skirts high.

That’s the up-tempo stuff, but the record has plenty of range, and Vera Sola is equally adept at slow crooners. “Desire Path” is a slowly developing art piece. It is beautiful and enchanting but, this being Vera Sola’s world, the lyrics are about gaslighting and control, and the dark side of ill-considered love.

Through it all you the get the impression that Vera Sola is wise beyond her years. The songs are innovative yes, particularly with the syncopation, but they are also surprisingly traditional. These are crooners that would fit right into a 1920s speakeasy or a 1940s lounge that has somehow survived the war.

Speaking of war, one of the records best tracks is “Instrument of War,” an apocalyptic anthem of vengeance and bloody intent. The song opens with…

“Make me an instrument of war
Lord pack me my pistol bring me my sword
Load me up with landmines
Bury me in concubines
Take me downtown where the bullets are”

…and it just gets deliciously darker from there.

On my first listen the record came off a bit affected, with that cutesy curl in the vocals I often don’t like, but the more I listened the more I realized the creative choices being made with her phrasing and singing style were a feature, not a bug. Without that odd lilt and otherworldly quality the album would lose its oddness, which is a key part of what makes it so good.

There were six years between Vera Sola’s first record and this one and I hope I don’t have to wait that long for number three, because whatever the hell you call this kind of music, I want more of it.

Best tracks:  Bad Idea, The Line, Desire Path, Waiting Bird House, Blood Bond, Instrument of War

CD Odyssey Disc 1781: The Decemberists

I’m back to work after what was an action packed and social four-day weekend. I had not one, not two but three friends visiting from out of town, which was awesome, and all of them, plus a series of fun events with both visitors and locals resulting in me feeling much love and companionship.

The weekend wrapped up on Monday with attendance at the Remembrance Day ceremony. It felt appropriate to wrap up a weekend so filled with good times by setting aside some time for somber reflection on the sacrifices of our veterans to preserve our great way of life. Thanks to them, yesterday, today, and always.

OK, now a music review.

Disc 1781 is…What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World

Artist: The Decemberists

Year of Release: 2015

What’s up with the Cover? Some cheerful goddess figure strides about on a floating orb (the earth?) brandishing a wavy bladed sword and a short bow. I’m not familiar with this particular myth.

The rest of the cover is a bunch of repeating imagery in a colour scheme that looks like it was chosen by a Microsoft Office template. There appears to be a lot going on here but actually, not really.

Fortunately the album is way better than the cover.

How I Came To Know It: I was already a big fan of the Decemberists when this record came out, on the heels their masterpiece, “The King is Dead” (reviewed way back at Disc 490).

This was just me buying what came next. I may or may not have listened to it first, but probably not.

How It Stacks Up: I have nine Decemberists albums, which I believe is all of them. I guess I’m a fan. Of those nine, “What a Terrible World…” (not typing it) is one of the best. I would say it is in a statistical tie for second with “The Crane Wife” but since you don’t read this section to watch me equivocate, I’ll give “The Crane Wife” the slight edge, landing “What A Terrible World…” respectably at third.

Ratings: 4 stars

It may have taken four years for the Decemberists to follow their masterpiece, “the King is Dead” but the wait was worth it. “What a Terrible World…” is an indie folk masterpiece.

Stylistically they don’t stray far from “the King is Dead” although the arrangements feel a bit richer overall. Despite this it never feels saturated or busy, and any additional mélange of instruments or flourishes are well placed and deliberate. Everything serves the song, and the melodies – which are a delight – are front and centre throughout.

These melodies feel simple enough, but I know from trying to “dumb down” Decemberist songs to the level of my limited guitar playing, that they are sneaky complicated. Lots of slight variations to chords evoke a complex set of emotions from songs that on the surface feel very straightforward. “Sneaky good” comes to mind.

Songwriter (and lead vocalist) Colin Meloy is ever at the ready with a quiver full of clever (but never trite) turns of phrase. He sings this liquid poetry in his signature high quaver that lifts you up into an elevated headspace where he promptly…makes you think. If you want a mindless beat or a club banger, this stuff is not for you.

Case in point, the opening track, “The Singer Addresses His Audience” in which…the singer addresses his audience. Often singing in character, here Meloy breaks down the fourth wall with the most honest depiction of the relationship between a band and their fans since Rush’s Neil Peart penned the lyrics to “Limelight”. While there are places in “The Singer Addresses His Audience” that are slightly tongue in cheek, it is the kind of gentle kidding that you do among friends. Or in this case in the artificial relationships between the famous and those who adore them.

A few songs later “Make You Better” gets fully serious, with a song of desperate longing. The broken object of affection is only half the story, with the desperate need to help them the other half of the story, a spiral akin to “The Singer Addresses His Audience” but minus any lighthearted element. The song soars ere the end, but it is the soaring of recognition when something is wrong and it is time to fly over it and see it for what it is, and always was.

Those songs are both in the first third of the record, but there are gems a-plenty to follow, right up to the brilliant trio of “Mistral”, “12/17/12” and “A Beginning Song” that finishes the record off.

“A Beginning Song” once again achieves a subtle duality, ending the record with a song that feels like it both wraps all the musical themes up, but also with a newfound hope of discovery that makes you want to go back to the record’s beginning and play it again.

This is, not coincidentally, why it took me so long to get around to writing this review. I just kept cycling back to the beginning and enjoying another full listen. Things never got tiresome for me and if anything, the record just kept unfurling its mysteries.

Best tracks:  The Singer Addresses His Audience, Make You Better, Lake Song, Mistral, 12/17/12, A Beginning Song

CD Odyssey Disc 1780: Pat Benatar

When shopping for either groceries or CDs, you are wise to bring a list and stick to it. That is not what happened for this next review, when I went ahead and made an impulse purchase of an album despite having previously explored the artist’s discography quite thoroughly and ruling it out.

Trust your original instincts in these moments, dear reader. Do not be drawn in by the magical allure of a killer single and the visage of the noble owl.

More on both those temptations below.

Disc 1780 is…Tropico

Artist: Pat Benatar

Year of Release: 1984

What’s up with the Cover? Look at Ms. Benatar’s lovely evening gown, and isn’t that black and white checkerboard floor delightful?

Oh, who am I kidding. There is only one thing to look at here, and that is the OWL!. That owl is seven kinds of cool. Not only is it posed in “ready to swoop” mode, it is so damned glorious its wings are generating a localized lightning storm.

OWL!

How I Came To Know It: I grew up with Pat Benatar and while I didn’t have this particular album I did know and love the big single that was released from it. More on that later.

How It Stacks Up: I have five Pat Benatar albums. One of them has to be last, and that one is “Tropico”. And since this is my last Benatar review, here’s the full recap:

1. In the Heat of the Night: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 667)
2. Precious Time: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 784)
3. Crimes of Passion: 2 stars (reviewed at Disc 801)
4. Get Nervous: 2 stars (reviewed at Disc 1762)
5. Tropico: 2 stars (reviewed right here)

Ratings: 2 stars

No matter how great the artist, not every album can be a winner. Pat Benatar is one of rock and roll’s great voices, but “Tropico” does little to let her soar, drowning the power of her instrument in overcooked and unnecessary production.

Apologies to Benatar’s husband and longtime collaborator Neil Giraldo, who as producer usually knows exactly what to do with her considerable talent. But here we instead have the horrors of all that mid-eighties production has to offer: drum machine, bangs, whistles and a generally Madonna-esque pop quality that does not mesh well with Benatar’s rock and roll soul.

Lyrically the record also fails to inspire, with one song even mailing it in and just going with a sound for a chorus (that would be the “Ooh Ooh Song”). There are efforts at narrative tales, like on “the Outlaw Blues” but while Benatar has the beginnings of an intriguing character here, she prefers to skate with just the general idea of an outlaw, rather than fully exploring who that outlaw might be. The Production on this one is particularly tough as well.

Yet, despite all these songs that dabble and dance around what could’ve been great, there is a gem among the stones. Yes, I speak of the song that made a million people (including me) buy this record: “We Belong”.

“We Belong” is hardly classic Benatar fare. In place of Giraldo’s signature guitar licks, we’ve got a synthesizer/organ situation dropping electronic rhythms, followed by a bunch of hand claps and eventually a bit of choir action near the end. But where all this experimentation fails us elsewhere on “Tropico”, here everything lands just right. If you ever long to feel that you belong, then listen to the song and feel love in all its heart-wrenching overwrought awesomeness.

I also enjoyed “Love in the Ice Age” which has some annoying eighties arrangements, but the composition has good bones and even allows Benatar to have a bit of a minor belt of two in places. Was this me just looking hopefully for something else good? Maybe a little, but I liked it, and its cold themed imagery goes well with the cold nature of the production. I would’ve given this song a bit more guitar growl but alas, it was not the style of the time.

My copy of this album is a Japanese reissue, complete with an insert of Japanese liner notes. This was almost enough for me to keep it right there, and I applaud Japan for continuing to embrace the CD as a musical medium. However, I know that outside of “We Belong” this record is just not ever getting played ahead of the other four albums I list above. I will reluctantly part ways with it and let it find a happier home than mine.

Best tracks:  We Belong, Love in the Ice Age

CD Odyssey Disc 1779: Okkervil River

My third review of the week! Hard to swing it, but I was aided by the fact that this next album is an EP, and so that much quicker to grok in its fullness.

Disc 1779 is…Overboard & Down

Artist: Okkervil River

Year of Release: 2006

What’s up with the Cover? A man lies uncomfortably on a makeshift raft. There are also a lot of hands.

We’ve got some hands in the sky that appear to be summoning good weather and a bit of wind to speed him on his way. We’ve also got our castaway’s own hands, one of which appears to be signaling ‘thank you’ to the sky hands.

Then we’ve got a bunch of hands coming up from under the water. The motivation of these hands is unclear. They don’t look threatening, but I tend to be wary of any hands that rise up out of the ocean depths. I know that’s wrong of me to prejudge these water-dwelling hands, which might be very nice and just patting the man to reassure him that help is on the way. I just think the odds of that are low.

How I Came To Know It: I found this at random while searching for something else at the local record store. I knew Okkervil River quite well but I’d never heard of this record and so, assuming it would be hard to find and I’d regret not buying it later, I snapped it up. I haven’t seen it anywhere since, so I’m glad I did.

How It Stacks Up: I have lots of Okkervil River records, but I decided when I reviewed the Black Sheep Boy Appendix back at Disc 1583 that I would rate their EPs separately. I have (or had) two EPs, and rank “Overboard & Down” at #1 of those two.

Ratings: 3 stars

The internet informs me that this album was put out to support Okkervil River’s 2006 tour of Australia. That’s a cool thing to do, but apart from giving Aussie indie rock fans something to buy at the merch table, how is the music?

Quite solid, thanks for asking. This is vintage early Okkervil River, and singer and principal songwriter Will Sheff’s signature warble is in full effect. Sheff has a delivery that always feels slightly tortured, and he uses it to wring every drop of emotion out of songs that are pretty wrought for the wringing.

“Overboard & Down” is a mix of three new original studio songs (so you’re not just buying it for the cover or the concert memories), a live version of “Westfall” and a Big Star cover. Let’s tackle them in these groupings, shall we?

First the three originals, all of which are solid. “The President’s Dead” is the first track and also the record’s best. Sheff does a great job of capturing such a monumental and tragic event, in this case a mythical president not a reference to an actual event. This is important because the song is less about the event itself and more what it is like to get that kind of news, and all the individual reactions that follow. Best line:

“In the media tent where they spin and they slant,
They just foam the mouth, and they champ at the bit”

Why is that the best line? The correct use of champ at the bit. It is hard to get through my day without some rando saying “chomp at the bit,” with me then being forced to determine if social niceties and circumstance allow me to correct them in the moment. “Chomp” is wrong, people – stop fucking doing it.

But I digress.

Back to the record, after a relatively forgettable but solid “The Room I’m Hiding In” our third original is “Love to a Monster.” It is a powerful example of how Sheff is not afraid to let his songwriting go to very dark places. Here we have a thoroughly despicable narrator describing all his ill-wishes for his ex, right down to reveling in “what a number he did” on her and his plans to do the same to someone new:

“I grow tired of this song turned my eyes to the blonde in the bleachers
She's a lovely young creature I think she's seeking adventure
I think she's ready to see that the world ain't so sweet nor so tender
I won't break her just bend her and make her into my new ringer for you”

Yech. This song makes my skin crawl, but holy crap it does a good job of doing that, and while it is dark and disturbing art, it’s art all the same.

Which brings us to the live version of “Westfall”. The studio version appears on the 2002 album “Don’t Fall In Love With Everyone You See” (reviewed back at Disc 1267). It is a song of horrific murder, and I won’t get into the details (I cover those on the studio review). I will say that this live version is excellent and even more angsty and black than the original. I wouldn’t say I needed another version of “Westfall” but I am glad to have this one all the same.

Rounding out the record is a cover of a song called “O Dana” originally by seventies rock band Big Star. I don’t know much about Big Star but this cover didn’t inspire me to explore them, and overall it is the weakest track on the EP.

“O Dana” aside, “Overboard & Down” is a solid record, and did what a good EP should always do – left me in the mood for more.

Best tracks:  The President’s Dead, Love to a Monster, Westfall (live)