Today on Iron Chef, the theme ingredient is crap. Imagine the most glacially-paced self-indulgent experimental ambient knob twiddling you possibly can, and mix liberally with all the lameness in Lameonia, and it won’t prepare you for how truly pale this CD is. While vacuous and uninteresting, it yet somehow manages to be as engaging as an empty TV channel. I wish I could say it sounds good from a technical standpoint, but it sounds (I suspect deliberately) like my stereo is broken. All the soft random background sounds that forced other artists to do another take ended up here “composed.” That’s what this is a recording of. And I realize that I ended that sentence with a preposition (and started this one with a conjunction), but dammit, that’s how much this disc moved me.
While enshrouded in the cold intergalactic vacuum of this disc’s artistic merit, I was happy to discover that at least it’s not pretentious. You have to, at minimum, be communicating something on some level to do that. The only cool thing here is the teeny little mini-CD it arrived on. Another sentence ended with a preposition. Look out: I’m a WILD MAN. I can’t believe I sat through this. (Conrad Teves)

Since I've become the Rocky Mountain satellite reporter for Demorama.com, I've been relegated to reviewing online submissions, a task fraught with danger and excitement.

I see all kinds of band websites. Some are impressive, some are impossible, and some are massively overproduced for the quality of music contained therein.

Bright Red Universe's website is closer to the impossible than the impressive -- the band member's names aren't on the site, there is no indication of where they play or tour, some links don't work -- but the music on the pages is better than just about anything else I've heard, listening for Demorama.com.

The songwriting is stratospheric, seamlessly blending engaging lyrics ("It's only love but we're just pretending it's only lust") with out-of-this-world melodies. Vocalist PJ Morrison's pipes blend Ann Wilson's range and tone with Blondie's alternately cooing and growling panache.

This seems to be guitarist Mike Stan's project -- all the music credits on the site belong to him -- and I'm even more impressed if Morrison is singing someone else's lyrics.

The band behind the voice is adequate, although it doesn't stand out much. The guitar tone is hit and miss, though the acoustic guitars sound great. There's a lovely bass solo in "Twist," but the bass is hard to pull out of the mix in other songs.

The vox were always crystal clear, and always excellent (a hard row to hoe in mp3 land), but the band really sounded like they were recorded in a basement.

Altogether, I really enjoyed listening to Bright Red Universe. They're likely to stay on my mp3 playlist long after this review is complete, and that's high praise from me. (Melanie)

This recording was not without clunkers, but the musical effort was outstanding. At 23 years old, Mr. Bucaro still has a lot to learn, but his fundamentals are as sound as any musician could hope for. Heavily grounded in blues, but with the added twist of Paul Simon’s best African inspired work, a strong jazz undercurrent, and a nod to Appalachian folk combine to make some high-class hillbilly music. I can’t totally rave about this guy, though. There were some letdowns, such as “Georgia Peach” ("My Georgia peach, tastes so sweet, tastes so good/Like she was hanging right from the tree") just about made me puke. Bucaro lacks the vocal punch to deliver marginal lyrics to salvation. Maybe Muddy Waters coulda pulled it off.
Which brings me to my major criticism: Bucaro has a solid, bluesy voice, somewhere between another melanin-deficient bluesman, Johnny Lang, and the softer, yet forceful vocal style of pop-rocker John Mayer. Bucaro, however, on too many of the songs, tries to be Mr. Smooth—even trying a bit of scat singing—and it doesn’t work. Bucaro seems at times trapped between a drawl and the staccato of reggae. Just sing, man.
The guy’s only 23, though, and if he keeps working with New Orleans bluesman Anders Osborne--who produced this CD--I can only imagine Bucaro’s sound improving. (Mike Mitchelson)

They call it “Southern fried cowfunk pyschedelia,” I call it early Allman Brothers meets Blues Traveler for all the wrong reasons. The psychadelia means they recorded with an echo. They’re probably o.k. live after a pallet or two of beer. (Mike Mitchelson)

Tim Corley writes adult contemporary music on his acoustic guitar. Tim’s an accomplished player and writes reasonably intelligent music. His tunes showcase his fingerpicking style and breathy vocals. However, most of his songs follow the same formula...acoustic guitar intro/1 verse/band joins in. Pretty predictable after the third song. To his credit, Tim writes interesting music that goes beyond simple three-chord ballads that so often end up haunting top-40 radio. Specifically, his song "Breathe Again" creates a moody atmosphere without getting depressing and then lays some very interesting vocal melodies on top of it. The production is clear and shining on all fronts and the instruments are well balanced in the mix. Tim's musical and vocal approach could be likened to Toad the Wet Sprocket with Richard Marx singing. Not at all offensive, but not really outstanding either. I think Tim would best serve himself by trying to get his songs played on WB teen dramas. Too bad Dawson's Creek was canceled. Check out Tim’s website for mp3’s and his journal. (Archie Rex)

I've been so hungry I've drank spaghetti sauce, so entertainment-starved I've watched Blu-blockers infomericals, so cold I've slept in two pairs of jeans. I have to admit that in the last several months I have had an unfortunate knack for being unlucky in my demo picks and have for the most part wound up having to listen to crap crap CRAP. That's why it's easier for me to appreciate Heroes of the Alamo: they're not hugely spectacular, at least not as much as their background and press kit would have me hope (New Yorkers who love the Clash and REM). But they hijack the Athens college-kid sound effectively, and even though the vocals stray dangerously close to the Dreaded Emo Whine, I can't really find anything about this demo that drags it down too deeply. HOTA reminds me of every opening band I didn't come to see, got mildly impatient with but turned out not to mind too much. (Nate Patrin)

 

 

So I listened to this Hugo stuff and wasn't immediately appalled as I often am when listening to these godforsaken bands try to rock and roll on some sort of absymal plane of pop rock myopia blended with a dash of amoeba-like saltine rawk. No, this time I was forced to actually cock my ear and listen to the pop granola that is HUGO. Where are these bastards from? Looks like Miami. I remember two fashionable cops down there blowing the bejeezus out of anyone selling cocaine. And you know what they did as their moonlighting gig, right? That's right. They made some of the worst fucking music ever assembled in Hollywood.

That is not the case with Hugo...though I suspect this shit could go down smooth in some atrocity of a commercial selling bikini wax, magic surf hairdo lotion, or the all-American cheeseburger. Trapped in a vile snatch of all that is good and all that is wasted. Where do you go when you can't see what you're even sliding into? But I cannot trust a band from the get-go whose opening salvo of a web page asks you if "Hugoing inside?" Please. I don't need this kind of pnadering to my pop psyche. I'm here to listen to your goddamn music and give you the proverbial write up in Demorama so you can write to all your friends and relatives and show 'em what a great fucking guy I am for wasting my time and effort on your tunes.

Might I say I do like the piano playing here in this band. Jon Ungar plays the keys. But FUCK YOUR LOUSY SINGING, JON. You're one of these mixtures of faux-soul reject like that pap smear in New Radicals mixed with sugary hippie wanking and for the life of me I can't take it and I won't take it. So you, dear Jon must take this and learn from it. Your piano playing is fine...fuck the guitar! We've heard enough guitar lead a band. But dammit, just don't open your mouth. Who's in the rest of the band? OK, brief mention of drummer Richard Hargett and bassist Rajan Purcell. If either of you can sing, do it. Don't let Ungar do it anymore. It won't get you laid. It won't even get you a toke on a really bad joint from some fifteen year old making more money in his shitty punk band.

I had to sit through three songs of this Ungar torture. "Princess in Shining Armor", "Happiness", and "Stefanie". I don't like that spelling of that name. The PH version should be the standard. By the way...these lyrics also take the pipe. "Princess" includes such bad drivel as "You're much too good and more often than not, you spot me out of my troubles my princess in shining armor." God, hand me the bucket.

And "Stefanie, can't you be true when I want you to?" Christ, can't you write a lyric that's not hackneyed? Dear readers I urge you never to listen to Hugo. Don't fucking bother. The piano is just a phony hook. Bring back the guitars! Let's hear some boring cock rock that would make .38 Special cum collectively.

That's my report from the field. Yours in prose if not in style. (Jason Thompson)

A pair from St. Peters, MO submit a set of songs in a style they call "experimental electronic rock industrial thing." What this comes across to me as, is a fusion of Ambient and Industrial. Unfortunately, it seems to have fused the more detached qualities of both and left their engaging elements behind. While not as cold (or as catchy) as Euro-Synthpop, it nonetheless kept me wondering why I'd ever want to listen to this again. For what it's worth, the performances were fine, then again, what they were performing just wasn't interesting.
Second thought? Wouldn't give one. (Conrad Teves)

Another jam band, just what we need. Even though LEVITT8 is heavy on the funk, they find themselves falling into the directionless pit so many jam bands are lost in. My first impression of this band was great. I was listening to the song "Becoming" and thinking that they really had a Fishbone vibe to them. The song was full of great melodies and nice horn accompaniments. Over eight and a half minutes of bliss that never really got old. Things started going downhill when I heard the song "Brad Ray." It is an instrumental where things were slowly falling apart. The rhythm and horns were no longer tight and the melody got monotonous. It sounds like they may have had a few too many cocktails when recording this one. Things get downright bad on "E." Best described as Sci-Fi Disco, this piece of progressive rock was almost too embarrassing to listen to. There was an extended keyboard solo that would make Rick Wakeman proud. The saxophone sounds like it has extra reverb on it giving it that Miami Vice sound. This debacle drags on for almost nine minutes. It appears that LEVITT8 have fallen into this bottomless pit and there may be no way to save them. (Neal Mayerle)

Five songs about getting dumped (Yeah, I read the press sheet--and they're about getting dumped) adequately played and monotonously talked/sung with lots of strummy acoustic chords below and fuzzy-distorto electric guitars on top. Highly inoffensive but totally forgettable. P.S.: Leave the parts about renting a house in the Hamptons to record your album and hanging with G.E. Smith out of your bio if you ever want anybody to listen to you ever again. Ever. (SCIsadore)

When music reviewers get an assignment it always involves great risk. Okay, not really, but you never know what's around the next corner. It's hit or miss and to keep your sanity, you forget the misses. Conversely, the hits stay with you - as when listening to Katie Marie, a singer-writer from the UK. Fresh and very approachable, the music is welcome sound to weary ears.

With an emotive voice that compliments the writing, Katie Marie produces a sound that is simultaneously smooth and substantive. If it's a rainy day, the music would make a fine friend to visit with while sipping coffee and pondering things great and small. Her music consists of fine blendings of soft rock and folk-rock for the most part, with the artist accompanying herself on guitar. The instrumental work is excellently done, and adds to the intimate impact. Nice acoustic guitar stylings - it and other instruments never overpower the music's thoughtfulness. Good work by her compadres.

The tunes have a mellowness that wears easy. "Alive" is an interesting track with gentle acoustic guitar and a country-tinged vocal slant. "All I Need" is a wonderful song: simple in arrangement, but strong.

"Wears Me Out" is probably by far the most pop sounding of the lot and an excellent outing it is of the genre. Warm guitar, understated piano and a world-weary vocal create a great feel in this imminently airplayable tune.

There is a depth and quality here that is not too common in contemporary music. The label "acoustic folk" seems the most convenient to tag on, but that's not entirely correct. I might opt for "smooth pop" instead. By any name, it's worth a listen. I look forward to Katie Marie doing well and to continue producing music that makes a reviewer's day. (Luis Fiske)

I'd figure Jesus, midget or otherwise, to be more into dub or Al Green than bad bad awful whingy tweemo. To answer the title's question: He'd record a better album than this, I'd hope. What a sad, tragic waste of a fantastic band name. (Nate Patrin)

Clutter, clutter, clutter. The Moore Foundation, a family crew from Sacramento, California, offers us a trio of primarily Soul/Hip-Hop tunes, two of which suffer excessively from stylistic clutter. The songs are also clearly influenced by a number of other styles, and there is an awful lot going on here that seems to walk on the other things going on. I suppose a paring down effort, or much better coordination of all the different elements is necessary to get this to work better. The song "Hustle Hard" seems much more functional than the other two.
The messages in the songs seem more positive than what you often hear in rap (I guess that's the Soul talking - not a lot of "gangsta" Soul out there), but except for the occasional cool turn of phrase, there's nothing spectacularly original going on here. It's worth pointing out it all sounds good from a technical standpoint, and that none of it sucks, but it needs some rethinking. (Conrad Teves)

Cute chick who plays piano and sings. And she does both really well. If I had to broadly describe her, think Fiona Apple (without the annoying attitude) meets Norah Jones—extremely well-executed, moody jazz-pop. It’s good stuff, although lyrically things are a little bland. Not that they’re terrible, but each track on this three song CD can be summarized as this: “I’m waiting for you, I want you, so please let me love you.” I guess Melissa Etheridge has made an entire career out of that, so who am I to say Sasha couldn’t, either. But musically, she’s interesting, and hopefully her storytelling will follow suit. (Mike Mitchelson)

"Not caring what people think may impress some people, but that doesn't affect me because I don't care what people think."--John Snell X

Then why did you send this mess of warmed-over Gordon Gano meets Beck meets Chicken Little meets a pound of Cousin Red's ditchweed glorified four-track bullshit in? By looking at his website, X must think that each and every word that dribbles out of his cakehole is some piece of Yogi-esque profundity. Acoustic doom & gloom has never sounded quite this baked. (SCIsadore)

Spellgate performs “Fantasy Music,” a genre of music that I was previously unaware of. The bio states that they play “Synth Metal.” This is misleading, as there is nothing “metal” about them. The discs begins with "The Lands of Ardigm" which reminds me of what Lawrence Welk and his orchestra might have written if they played Renaissance Festivals instead of on television. Dosashila (described in their bio as “the narrator, the all-knowing enchantress who brings tales of this majestic land to the people.”) croons above the heralding trumpets and galloping drums to the point where I can’t help but chuckle. "Curse of Malgei" is much of the same, but gets a bit spooky with darker progressions. "Najaeti Star" sent me in conniption fits of uncontrollable laughter. Without the fantasy lyrics, you’d have the background music for any “Sonic the Hedgehog” game. The hokey music is pumped out of new age synths courtesy of Dosashila’s counterpart, Darynlard. Conniptions aside, It’s all performed very well, and the production value is really quite good. However, I can’t help but wonder where one would ever hear this music outside of a bad fantasy b-movie or old Sega games. Maybe in the Tiki room at the next hotel-sponsored Fantasy convention… (Archie Rex)

Listening to the love songs of Alan Williams, you would never guess that he was from the U.K. The songs seem like their origin would be from some Holiday Inn in the middle of Arkansas. At first Alan had me laughing because of how absurd his songs were on first listen, but after awhile I realized how sincere he was and how much passion he threw into these love songs. All of the songs are very straightforward and ooze with passion and love no matter how silly they may sound at times. Alan's voice is his greatest asset. It is truly unique. He was once compared to a young Roy Orbison, which really isn't that far from the truth. The caliber of the songs is another story though. The quality of the recordings is not great by any means. Drum machines and horrible keyboard sounds, which would be right at home at a wedding held in 1983. Many of the recordings sound "lo-fi" which I doubt was Alan's intention with this style of music. However I do think that this style of recording gives his music its charm. I would find myself totally drawn into Alan's songs at times. The more I would listen, the more I found myself singing along. The song "Coming Back" really pulled me in and wanting more, but then listening to "Don't Cry For Me" would have me thinking "this guy can't be for real". Dare to make a decision for yourself. Give Alan a shot. (Neal Mayerle)

 

This is a set of songs produced by songwriter Bob Velvin to showcase his material with a varying set of musicians and singers. Not a bad idea, and pretty well done. The songs though, are just not very strong -- at best they are sort of blandly unoriginal, at worst they are almost caricatures. There's something perfunctory about them, formulaic...too careful or perhaps careless. (Norm DePlume)