Pinch Me...Screaming With Sirens Jolts You Back To Life With On Target Anger

These kids today, huh? Such blinding anger. It's refreshing to hear it being put to use in a positive way. Visited the john already? Excellent. If you haven't you'll miss the guns blazing assault perpetrated on your impressionable ears by "Kick Me", a venomous blast of hard rock inferno baiting by Ohio postcore band Sleeping With Sirens. There's not much subtlety on display here. What does come out of this furious power push is repeated claims of how misunderstood vocalist Kellin Quinn is. He does make his point, hammer it into the ground, and yelp long after we the curious onlookers have pried our gazes away from the scene of the accident. "You don't know shit about me!!" That's the battle cry for tons of disenfranchised youth. Still rings true today, or so it is my understanding. But not only "shit". Nope, "shit, shit, shit". That would shit cubed to you science geeks out there. What goes nicely with a young dude letting his imprisoned soul hang out bleeding for everyone's amusement? How about pounding home the rant with drums that sound like some unwise so and so attacked its girlfriend plus guitars that slap you around until you're begging for the mercy you have to believe you're not worthy enough to merit receiving? Gabe Barham's a mad maniac of a male. He pounds away behind the kit as if he was playing on a last place team in the pro game with only pride on the line to play for. When there's nothing left to lose you tend to loosen your play up a notch or three. Gabe wears fast and loose very well. The anguish Kellin harbors comes through extremely clear in Gabe's stick scampering. I'm taken aback by how "Kick Me" doesn't resemble a two minute thirty one second outing. Maybe the culprit is how much dynamite they pack into such a confined space. Every instrument gets supplied generously. Vocals pierce your sensitive places. Guitar shrieks up and down your spine. Bass pounds up and down the legs barely holding you up. Drums hammer away at your defenses, leaving scant resistance in their wake. Justin Hills gives his bass a stellar workout. The attitude portion of "Kick Me" is largely a creation of Justin's twisted imagination. Here's to a guy coloring outside the lines. Since this foursome hails from Orlando we can imagine Justin's been on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride at Walt Disney World a time or three. How else to explain his fearless way with bass harmony. Kellin doesn't toss out the you don't understand me trump card because he's playing victim for all he and it are worth. Stanza five proves he's up to the challenge of making his detractors eat dirt matching them clod for clod. He warns them: "By all means put me through hell and I'll make you see I'll be worst enemy. Backbone and rock have a long history of going great together. "Kick Me" extends the legacy. Kellin cements a vow not to play the arbitrary rules game he didn't make to start with. "Hang the jury" he exclaims. Giving the bastards a dirt nap is on his agenda as well. Sleeping With Sirens doesn't play like a band built for speed. It gets its crunch from a regular diet of intensity. The boys follow that diet to the letter. Their primary care physicians would be proud of their due diligence. I'm thrilled to make the acquaintance of "Kick Me". Never has being slapped across the face by USDA prime rock roast felt so captivating. Screaming With Sirens refuses to be cast aside and, with this brand of electricity at its disposal why would you want to commit that sin.

Bahamas Spends Too Much Time On So Little Reward

Cuteness can only take you so far. That's the conclusion I'm reaching with Bahamas, an Ontario native whose real name is Afie Jurvanen. At least now we can likely guess why he has the stage name. "All The Time" comes off like it could've easily been tapped for use in any one of a number of modern ad campaigns because it sounds slickly produced, snail's pace deceiving us into thinking it's the most adorable thing we've ever heard. Couldn't be further off track there. I am not implying Bahama's musicianship isn't serviceable in a lo-tech style. I think he succeeds when he lets his turn of phrase do the talking for him. Basically he sings to a lady that he's got all the time in the world (Lucky him, right? Sounds superhuman doesn't it?) and inquires if she wants some. How generous. That's your ultimate all you can eat life buffet going on. I'd be a moron not to take that bet and raise it a by a few chips. Turns out she wanted none of it. What else might the persnickety prima donna give a thumbs down to? A supply of eighteen-carat diamond rings? Never ever having to do dishwasher duty? Moving back on course Bahamas passes the pluck test. He plucks his guitar lovingly with a benevolent similar to the way you'd stroke a cat if you were a pet owner. Breezy beach vibes flood this song down to its core. Tropical libations would go great with the song. The unfortunate element is that a drink could be your best chance to liven up the listening experience. Sober it's merely a guitar plodding along with no particular urgency in mind. That could be apt because we are talking about a guy with all the time in the world. There's a big difference between taking your sweet time and making your audience examine its collective watch repeatedly, mentally going over the checklist of those many things it probably ought to be doing. Nobody appreciates waiting for things to get good only to realize good as it gets territory is where we're at now. Fling the confetti. Blow the noisemakers. Time to party like tonight's our last chance. What's "my work" anyway. Is that a way of saying he's putting his junk out there? He gets honorable dude credit for saying there's something wrong with that. He puts his work in front of her. You've got vivid imaginations I'm sure. You color in the in between areas yourselves then. I'm pretty quick to zoom in on a song that while inoffensive enough doesn't rise to the level of appointment listening. "All The Time" matches the description well. At 3 minutes 55 seconds Bahamas takes an inordinate amount of cosmic space to weigh in on his time surplus and how nice it would be if his girlfriend joined him for a swim in it. Drawing out this coy behavior isn't copping a buzz. If I were the woman I'd be nervously tapping my freshly manicured nails on a table, demanding that he get on with it already. Time is always precious. Bahamas fails to put his allotment to acceptable use.

Papa Roach Gives Everything It's Got

Am definitely liking the energy surge bursting out of Papa Roach's new single "Face Everything And Rise". Hit the ground running gets you a great deal of play in the rock game. This California foursome raid the party as a collective. Translated I mean one band member doesn't waste space noodling in hopes that one of us is tremendously impressed with his virtuosity. So who's the main man clutching throttle for all it's worth? Credit goes to guitarist Jerry Horton whose no holes barred attacking style spreads confidence over note after note. Jacob Shaddix doesn't lack for self-assuredness either. His credo speaks to whatever brave part of our mortal beings possesses the wherewithal to rise above fear long enough to know we can have those awesome moments where ten feet tell isn't an impossible asking price. Never give up until your last breath has been publicized before but Papa Roach puts claws onto this kitty. Tony Palermo is equal to the task of keeping time for his empowered brethren. Like I said, collective conviction rules the day. You need not stray to the refrigerator too quickly or else you'll miss the brief blast of rock with generous metal mixed in for added menace. "I need a cure for the life I've chosen" speaks to a great many who wish a push of the rewind button we're possible. Either inaction or ill-advised action can take a life full of potential for big things and transform it into some other man's cautionary tale. Jacob's world seldom looks like glamour's embodiment, in other words it's the world as we know it writ large on a blood red screen. One theme that shows up for the second time involves putting a positive spin on pain. Three Days Grace claimed there was beauty in the bleeding during "I Am Machine". Papa Roach, in similar poetry poses the argument that "The pain, the rain, is a blessing in disguise." How you turn negatives into positives says a lot about the character and potential staying power of a person. I certainly give an amen to "Life hurts and there's no warning. I guess one way to look at it is if there was a warning about the cosmic dookie drench that we're subjected to there wouldn't be future generations because nobody would want to greet the world's cocked fist. So it's about population reassurance. In certain sports fields, boxing and football spring to mind, the participants lay it on the line, at times longer than their bodies can take. Many's the pro QB whose glory years have long faded into the rear view mirror. However the narcotic substance called spotlight clouds their minds into thinking Father Time has been asleep on the job. For the great many of us not blessed with physical skills like these, vowing not to quit sounds perfectly noble. If you have a belief, stand up for it or prepare to be crushed by the majority's oncoming traffic. I respect that compact sprays of intensity Papa Roach puts on display. Game clock management serves ball clubs well. For Papa Roach, it's the textbook well-followed study of doing more with less. "F.E.A.R. (Face Everything And Rise)" drops in January of 2015. "Face Everything And Rise" is worth getting on your feet for. Papa Roach rose to the challenge of crafting a hard rock record that shows self-help and searing guitar licks aren't a discordant combination. When they run stride for stride we're the ones out of breath.

San Antone's Nothing More Hammers Out Something Venomous

Missing a taste of home? Tonight's blog post is for you. Straight from San Antonio heavy metal foursome Nothing More has an ax to grind with corporate America and it comes through sharply on "Mr. MTV". This single lashes out at this nation's gotta have it instant gratification culture. If only we bought that trending trinket we'd at last be the envy of all our friends. TV, regardless of the channel changed to excels at making us think our woefully empty lives will be complete through vigorous consumer activity. Nothing More straddles the line between contained rage and toxic volcano masterfully. The angry sections are really seething. The quiet runs are build-ups gathering momentum to foment the next gathering storm. This band's passionate presence is written in large type all over their faces. For instance lead singer Jonny Hawkins lets his barbaric yawp soar to the rafters. We big boys like to call that conviction, the demonstration of knowing where you stand and maintaining the brash sensibilities required to go to the mat for the cause. Mark Vollelunga goes for the jugular whenever he throws his back into guitar. I sense he's the piece of the foursome that has to be restrained the most after he's built up a full head of steam. Respect also belongs to bassist Daniel Oliver. The ferocious aftertaste "Mr. MTV" has sliding down your throats wouldn't back as much punch without Danny knowing where to twist the knife. If you can get past the unsettling onslaught of images produced by the video you'll become aware of how much raw enthusiasm the track contains. That's dynamism you can't fake in a million years. Nothing More slithered onto the scene in 2003. 2004 brought the debut album "Shelter". Their latest release is self-titled in nature. Why not? Peter Gabriel built momentum with his first few albums by not giving them descriptive handles. Heart staged one of the biggest career boosts in all of music with its self-titled, four top 10 hit producing album. I'm driving at this notion, flawed or not that stipulates a band's really starting to get serious about its place in the music firmament if self-titled is the promotional route it's taking. Nothing More appears poised not to back down from a fight. Those of us, myself included, that get swept up in nostalgia for MTV's gravy days, are bound to grin ear to ear at the recalling of Sting's opening slant on MTV's trademark "I Want My MTV" campaign slogan. Then Nothing More yanks the rug out from under us. Game's on, people. They came to the table with a winner take all attitude. At the chorus they call out America for its dearth of honest to goodness inspiration. Each of us bows down to a corporate master on some level. These masters push drugs and sex before us knowing our thirsts are unquenchable. We've been broken down to the nubs. I'd like to keep fingers crossed that something else thought-provoking is set to emerge from these talented Texans. Nothing More proves its nothing less than a metal force to reckon with.

Banks Sports Some Nifty Threads

LA girl Banks puts her best vamp aesthetic forward to make "Beggin For Thread". Helps to have background chords working that play up the sweat-drenched, rip the shirt off mental foreplay the number's likely to encourage. As has been the case for so many femmes on the music scene Banks fancies herself the damsel in the distress which, as the title points out, needs somebody to give her thread to sew the hole in her head. Aren't there surgeons better equipped for that role? Could get pretty messy I'm sure. Banks has a voice that has the potency needed to arouse you regardless of what kind of day you are or aren't having. Go ahead and fog up the computer screen why don't you. You'd be forgiven for salivating like a dog on the prowl. Bringing out the inner dominatrix works to her advantage. You know those deep tissue massages designed to peel the stress away? The selection of chord shifts employed in the song get under your knotted high tension zones in a fashion that can best be described as magical. "My words can come out as a pistol" hearkens back to similar sentiments like Billie Jean's mouth being described as a motor in the one time King of Pop's "Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'" In other words watch yourself if you end up in a heated exchange with her or your neck might separate from your head. In classic mental patient mode Banks declares that "My unstable ways is my solution". That's not the least bit comforting out on a date with the woman. You never know which of her Sybil type personalities is going to come out of its shell. I applaud "Beggin' For Thread" for being both nimble and sultry at the same time. Banks has her sights set on you so don't you dare get betrayal. "Goddess" is where you'll find the cut. Is that title reference to how she sees herself or how she'd like to be perceived as her career unfolds. It's fun to fantasize about what motivation she had in mind. So where would the best environs be to hear a steam pit song like this. Possibly wafting from a darkened alley, a lone lamppost there to keep the creep factor in the tolerable category. I'd leave out dance hall if I were you. The RPMs don't warrant that. LA has the reputation for its sunny climate, smog fueled atmosphere, and streets where many dreams are hatched but a precious few fly to the risers. "Beggin' For Thread" has the provocative card played to the hilt and it doesn't care that you know damn well. Make no mistake, these threads were meant for wash and wear. Fresh out of the dryer they go on your skin sumptuously. Banks has good reason to believe she'll be pocketing some quality money in the coming years. Her arousal appeal drips off the iPod. That's a nice beginning point for any female trying to climb the music mountain and one day plant her flag on top of the heap. You won't have to beg me to keep my ears peel for whatever new artistry Banks wants to send our way.

Bring Me The Horizon Pulls You Into Its Undertow

Break down the fourth wall...common in acting as a way to let the audience in on the world of a movie/TV program. For metalcore-slanted Brits Bring Me The Horizon their drummer proves skilled at getting us into their fractured psyches almost on contact. "Drown" hobbles on unsteady legs, managing to fill us up with its toxic ache in record time. Matt Nicholls is to be given plentiful pats on the back for knowing how to handle us after he's succeeded in grabbing our attention. Behind the kit he's an absolute battering ram. Rarely is there space employed to come up for air. Not a big deal. Matt lumbers away in such calculating fashion that his unseen glare would scare the crap out of lesser mortals. Then there's the matter of vocalist Oliver Sykes. You can tell he's Mister Glass Half Full from his opening comment "What doesn't kill you makes you wish you were dead". Somebody get this dude a ticket to Build A Bear Workshop...stat. He has an advanced case of the frowns. After the song trips into third and then fourth gear Oliver's palpable unease invades him top to bottom. His yelps aren't the work of someone whose elevator goes to the top floor. Lee Malia's very proficient with his guitar. His ace in the hole stems from his delicate strokes whereas his instrument's reputation lies largely on over the top exhibitionism. Not so for Lee. He merely tries to hold on tight like a water skier who fears plunging into the drink with every fiber of his being. Bassist Matt Kean commands a bigger spotlight since he's the brawn giving Lee an added kick in the pants at crucial junctures. Repeated in the lyrics we notice Oliver begging for us to save him from himself. Common enough plea. Who among us doesn't need to be tugged away from the dramas lurking inside. I am taken with Oliver's candor. He's got the stones to go against cultural type and claim no, things are not alright, things are not OK. Why the fist bump? How many times have you been in an ever so brief social encounter with someone who says they're alright when in fact there's something, or perhaps many things eating at him/her? It's not grown-up to be that out in the open. Suffer in silence...that's what real men do, right? Oliver shrieks what many of us wish we were that uninhibited to say. Reality flings plenty of less than okey dokey manure at us. The brave thing would be to say "No, I'm in several dimensions of hell!! That's not cool!! I don't care how I'm judged!!" Oliver represents the emotionally bottled among us perfectly. The video gives us reason to believe that these blokes have a sense of humor. Twisted or not that's useful in taking the jagged edges off of a composition featuring a Brit who's in a losing, one-sided battle with his demons. Another dip into the quill pen of "Gee, that's eight different kinds of depressing" comes to us in the shape of: "What doesn't destroy you leaves you broken instead." I bet he's loads of fun on a blind date. How much Valium would need to be milling around inside him to get him anywhere within spitting distance of jocular? Is it the British gray weather that gets them like that or is Oliver an especially conflicted young waif for whom "It's going to be fine" rings blasphemous? If "Drown" was ever put into vinyl format it would come out of the jacket with icicles on the side. That's how chilly the air is inside Oliver and, by extension his band mates. They certainly gel from one kaleidoscopic fusion of helplessness to the next. What punch gets packed connects authoritatively. "Drown" as titles go gets into oxymoron territory. Oliver, despite his naked vulnerability emits some undeniable vitality. Bring Me The Horizon gets you smack in the middle of its shit storm and, strangely enough the manure aftermath isn't repugnant. Way to go, boys. You make flailing around in the water look as elegant as an Esther Williams synchronized ballet scene. "Drown" has the crunch to make worrisome waters, at least in the short term, potentially navigable.

CHVRCHES Kickstarts Dead Air

Let's get one thing out in the open right now. The brass behind the upcoming Hunger Games movie isn't paying me to talk about the cuts on their soundtrack. I merely find it both timely and noteworthy. There, air cleared I can proceed like someone who resembles a functioning adult male. Scottish electronic trio CHVRCHES allows its presence to be known with "Dead Air". For a track with "dead" in the title there sure is a lot of bounce brought to the table. Amazing what keyboards can do to make it appear a genuine pulse is beating. Lauren Mayberry's voice keeps commendable time with the rhythms which echo the Hunger Games ethos of running for one's life because you never can tell when the shark in the water's going to discover blood, and you would hate for it to be yours. Average audio this isn't. At its greatest synthesizers are your express paid pass to a rewarding landscape. Stuck in neutral. The surround sound effects can and probably should be given considerable credit for lifting you out of those doldrums. Snap to life quoth the synthesizers. Keep running while energy courses through your veins. CHVRCHES locates the hope inside a film dynasty that really doesn't lend itself to anything other than mano a mano combat on the world stage folks can't take their eyes off of. Peeking expediently at the words behind the so the drama Lauren decries that enduring equals strength. Holding on to an idea for all it's worth. That qualifies as important in the scheme of things. Holding on to the idea that makes healing not a mere pipe dream. There's your global money shot right there. You can sense firm legs to stand on are omnipresent in the choral layout. Leap to a higher chord then eclipse that with an even higher combo. In your mind's mind a hero and heroine make the leap together. Both Iain Cook and Martin Doherty's talents chase the ennui out of the picture. They spread layers of intricacy into the synthesizers that make it damned near impossible for adrenaline rushes not to flow. Lauren's the bona fide heroine persona to this tale. Wherever the innocence ran off to you imagine the mere presence of her plucky voice would be useful in reclaiming it. In a recent post I stressed the raw star wattage involved through bringing Lorde on board the whole Hunger Games phenomenon. CHVRCHES are going to be helped career-wise in the short run by adding their names to the roster. Any idea needs a spark, an undeniable glimmer to lift it off the ground and transform it to a concrete, tangible reality. "Dead Air" lives and breathes among us. We are plenty richer for that being the case. The bounciness reaches nimble proportions. The trio runs for its collective life. We hop on board the synthesizers and hightail it after them. CHVRCHES dead reckoning is living proof synths aren't soulless leeches. They can banish darkness with the tiniest light.

Bush Knows The Electrifying Way Out

Right from the get-go, British rockers Bush demonstrate they know their way around an amp. Their new "The Only Way Out" interlocks ingratiating chord melodies that refuse to let you rest on your music laurels. The shifts are spread out steadily. Each member displays a full mastery of his art. Vocalist Gavin Rossdale commands attention succinctly. In the lyrics he's placed a hefty weight on his shoulders, namely that he wants to be the savior for some lucky lady. That's a large God complex if ever I heard one (thank you...I'm not at any known comedy club all week). Corey Britz stands out on bass largely due to the underlying warmth shimmering within the constant uncertainty of modern times. Drummer Robin Goodridge taps out the angst with authority. His band may be headed towards unknown terrain, but the travels are where much of the reward stems from. As choruses go, Gavin assures what he's selling is packed with appropriate potency. As we collective humans come to realize the only way out of hardship is to plow through. The unidentified lady of this outing presents a reassuring distraction, one that keeps any of us from slamming down hard on the crazy button and screaming as if someone jabbed a switchblade through our hearts. Gavin doesn't lack for articulate story structure, a gift that gives this little passion play rooting value. You want the guy to get the girl. You want to think the orbit is populated with familiar good guys in white, bad guys in black cast out. On the arrangement front you don't have a cacophonous din to contend with. Crisp harmonies are the right tonic to keep attention spans transfixed. Chris Traynor dials back the theatrics on lead guitar. The shining star really does center on Gavin's intelligent way with a sentiment. He gives us food for thought by reminding us that we pray to the gods of our own demise all the time. In issuing this statement one gets the feeling that he, as is the case for a lot of us, sees the mad carnival as the epitome of absurdity in action. Put him in close quarters with the woman of his choosing and he can ice out the existentialism for a spell. "Trip wires in your head" shines a powerful light on the universal fascination with what makes a person tick. What are his/her motivations? Do we ever stand a chance of figuring that poser out? The latest bead on the necklace that comprises their two decades deep body of work has been christened "Man on the Run". "The Only Way Out" leaves no doubt it's compelling enough to encourage you to stay in one place. This particular way out contains tangible cerebral rewards aplenty.

Truth Be Told, Gwen Stefani's Borrowing From Her Past Glory

Gwen Stefani's the fashion plate who loves to party. I have fond memories of "Hey Baby" the cocktail sipping star attraction from No Doubt's "Rock Steady" LP. She's had another baby, this one called "Baby Don't Lie". She manages to incorporate elements of "Hey Baby" with the sassy panache of "Hollaback Girl". The "am I getting warm" build up is proof enough. Gwen definitely adopts a different persona solo than she does with No Doubt. I'm of a mind to think Gwen's inner devil comes out to play whenever she goes solo. "Hollaback Girl" was her way of getting even with Courtney Love for insinuating her music is cheerleader-based in nature. Turns out that was sweet revenge. Went straight to #1 and served as catalyst for an Asian posse themed video. Gwen goes for unapologetic production values in her videos as "Baby Don't Lie demonstrates. The special effects should be praised no end. The minus side? "Baby Don't Lie" doesn't dress to impress harmony wise. I'm not sold on the way she barks out syllables either. Such a technique doesn't make me covet her bod. Far too much artificiality to convince me she's playing the femme fatale as it was meant to be played. "Hollaback Girl" skewed higher on the slap you in the mouth scale. "Baby Don't Lie's" background accompaniment makes itself at home in processed studio magic trick land. Her previous efforts ("Wind It Up", "The Sweet Escape", etc..) had a bite which took you away to a universe that you wouldn't mind making repeat visits to. Gwen's on a quest to unearth the truth behind those masculine eyes. The chorus gets on my nerves. Again, too trumped up. Gwen doesn't need to put on act like the contestants she passed judgment on during her stint on "The Voice". Oh Gwen, we hardly knew ya'! We recognize your imprints on the new track but, it unfortunately is an example of an artist treading water rather than bravely swimming forward to untamed conquest. I get a kick out of Gwen's vibrancy. "Baby Don't Lie" isn't difficult to listen to. Shame of shames it's also not difficult to go on about your business like nothing substantial happened. That's because, as I alluded to before, Gwen's guilty of pulling off a mash up of previous phases of her career. The chorus is "Hey Baby's" half-sister. The studio witchcraft calls out to "Hollaback Girl" era Stefani in the early to mid 2000s back when she was just starting to gain traction as a solo proposition. None of these reveals pose a problem if you are homesick for what Gwen laid out on the table at that point. Growth isn't in the cards. We knew Gwen was skilled at mugging for the camera which she does fashion mogul style at the open and close of the video. That's encouraging. Why the music didn't mirror the bold color designs puzzles me. I doubt a suitable answer's forthcoming. In truth "Baby Don't Lie" wins the charm school award but it's not likely to be a classic in any appropriate genre you can name.

OK Go Doesn't Let Anyone Down In The Charisma Department

I swear I'm having 1970s disco flashbacks. Who's the culprit? Place the finger on OK Go. "I Won't Let You Down" swings like nobody's business. Tim Norwind brings funk with a twist thanks to a bass performance that's snazzy in the right places. Drummer Dan Konopka's freewheeling approach gets the memorable night into fifth gear because you know his entire band broke from its perch on the front porch and there's not going to be any letup in the levity anytime soon. Adeptly nestled between guitar and drums is Andy Ross, the gent lightly flavoring "I Won't Let You Down" with keyboards meant to be whatever icebreaker you choose. OK Go's latest release "Hungry Ghosts" birthed this energetic bundle. As for the video, they're having the level of fun they want you to take part in too. What else would you expect from a bunch that easily elevated treadmills from their outdated status as torture chamber workout equipment. The first time I heard "I Won't Let You Down" I was less than psyched up about the title practically being drilled into my head. You can throw as much rainbow adorable color at me as you want. The smoke and mirrors does nothing to conceal how overplayed that hand became. Second time does prove to be the charm though and that's because the 70s flashback joie de vivre is so liberally spread I don't get migraines digesting the chorus. To put my notion in perspective I'd like to share with you another example of how a simple agility in chord movement or an addicting pattern of funk behavior can make a passable song worth cheering about when it gets played on air or loaded into iPod. In 1982 The Gap Band scored a top 40 hit with "You Dropped a Bomb On Me". At its heart there isn't a whole lot that would appear to make it a rare experience. Listen after listen I keep getting lured in by that captivating synth melody coupled with don't mess with me drums and outer space special effects. To some the repetition would be dental drill uncomfortable but to me I look at the synth like I would a Chinese takeout meal. I never tire of sampling. When I mean disco age I'm serious. Right down to the string sections that dotted every disco classic from the ubiquitous "I Will Survive" to "Heaven Knows" to "Funkytown" "I Won't Let You Down" demands playful appreciation. Vocalist Damian Kulash plays up how important trust is to any relationship worth its salt. I'd bet that's why the chorus is persistent to the degree you want to scream, "OK, OK GO I BELIEVE YOU! STOP NAGGING!!" Key to the pizzazz of the song is knowing when to shift chords and even then doing so judiciously. It's poison to play too many sonic tricks with your listeners. Depending on the kind of day they've had they may not be receptive to them. I want to follow their fanciful sojourn wherever that leads. Nice umbrella visuals in the video. I'm sure their fans shrug it off like they're as used to seeing OK Go go all out for the camera as they are seeing the sun rise. Even so style points count in the music biz. OK Go doesn't even come close to either letting down or slowing down. You likely remember kids in school who didn't want to be there. OK Go's extra effort demonstrates that not only do they want to be on stage but manly tears all around when the show stops.

Boyz II Men Put Their Better Half Forward

The romance you know and respect from 1990s a-capella hitmakers Boyz II Men has returned in the form of new album "Collide". Taken from said collection we get "Better Half" which finds the now trio (Michael McCarty you are missed) primed to be full fledged lady killers again. Prepare for the sheets to get an excellent workout. As a quartet the guys knew their way around harmonies custom built to get the ladies swooning. In the early 1990s they owned the #1 slot on the Billboard Chart with the monster smashes "End Of The Road" and "I'll Make Love To You". I took a shining to "Water Runs Dry". "Better Half" allows Nathan Morris and brother Wanya along with Shawn Stockman to spread their wings beautifully. To start the mood look no further than the sweat promoting percussion. Add to that a chorus that stares squarely at the now or never time frame. One of the strong points Boyz II Men has always had in its repertoire is the ability to make any tone on the vocal register sound like an invitation to go panties off. With "Better Half" baritone goes on holiday but alto is given the respect it is due. Another plus can be attributed to how the song would sound right at home in contemporary R & B programming formats but not at the expense of the slick stylings Boyz II Men brings to the table. The chorus message tosses out a caveat at waiting too long to jump into love with both hands expecting some ideal that might not be out there. The secret lies in the leap of faith taken for the chance to meet love on its terms and also reap the immeasurable rewards. We can come up with many reasons to be hesitant. In many cases there's justification in not running in blindly. However stay on the sidelines too long and you may miss the big prize that was worth waiting for. "Better Half" is the jazzy yin to "Water Runs Dry's" sedate yang. In the latter number you breathe in the inner peace placed in the spirit of offering. "Better Half" isn't urgent so much as primed to select act over react since that's the usual way business matters get attended to. The trio have matured in the right places. That doesn't mean there isn't some forbidden fruit tucked away at the core of their exalted ponderings. Would they release something as sultry as "Uhh Ahh" today? Perhaps somewhat dated for millennials and the company they keep. "Better Half" hits the musical palate in a friendship strengthening way, like brothers dropping back by the neighborhood to see, hear, and taste what's new. Paired with an exquisite zinfandel you have what promises to be an airy night soaking in the world and your expanding places in it.

Billy Idol's Back and Breakin' Down All Over

Billy Idol, the sneer that launched a thousand ships and pioneered MTV in the much longed for time when videos were the rule instead of the exception. He's successfully joined the rest of us in the twenty first century which you can hear in the amply polished tune "Can't Break Me Down" lifted straight from the man's new album "Kings and Queens of the Underground". Only he could get away with foisting a bouncy trifle on the public that Neon Trees wishes it had thought of. You aren't going to discover any of the grit which was a hallmark of his classic hits "White Wedding", "Dancing With Myself", and "Flesh For Fantasy". That shouldn't leave you hopping mad. There's loads of the dangerous flirt about town hidden beneath the neatly creased gent pictured in the video. Billy's smart to have updated his sound a notch so he doesn't come across like he's not done romancing his early '80s halcyon period. The drumming doesn't fail to propel the accompanying leave 'em gasping in the hotel penthouse brash demeanor Mr. Idol's wearing like a familiar pair of racing gloves. If this is Billy updating his image to project maturity we can tell it's "Rebel Yell" guy no matter what apparel he's draped in. As you'd expect from a Billy Idol project guitars figure prominently. You can take your pick. Either the electrified heart stopper or the saucy strings set to match Billy's never met a cocktail he couldn't imbibe ethos. Personally I'll gladly lap up any Billy Idol you throw at me. "Rebel Yell" to this day is one of my all time favorite outings. It offered me a glimpse into how pulse accelerating Steve Stevens could be. With Billy and Steve on the prowl you'd have to assume no London neighborhood was safe. Billy's donned the family dad tights off stage but his edge thrusts eternal. Maybe the video isn't one of those coffin riddled "White Wedding" nightmare fodder pieces. Nonetheless the vicious growl stays in place. Check out the first lyrical passage to restore your faith in Billy's ability to reach those uncomfortable places in your psyche. That whole knife in the apple image must have emanated from a particularly bitter spoonful of creative juice. Mention "devil" at the outset and you know the Generation X leader hasn't completely tossed his fangs into the wastebasket. The commitment shy ought to get reasonable mileage out of seeing chapels and Beelzebub referenced together. The woman he's parted ways with put his gut level survival tale into question. I'm not sure love and glory were the real subjects Billy sang about. Undiluted sexuality maybe but I've never gotten the impression glory was front and center in his mind. Wouldn't we like to know what exactly "cruelest inventions" is supposed to hint at. Kinky toys wouldn't be an off base guess. Billy Idol entertains whenever he's on the record release slate. "Can't Break Me Down" shreds phony hearts Cuisinart style and leaves the pretenders blurred by the anguish of their own tear drenched eye sockets. Broken down into plain English this idol deserves to be worshiped even if his rapscallion days of youth have long since disappeared into the rear view mirror.

Daughtry Fires Off Some Fan Friendly Fare

Goes to show you what kind of career not winning American Idol can land you. Daughtry has been going skyward ever since that bout of rejection. The latest in the band's catalog is "Battleship". It certainly sounds loose and ready to go kick some ass. The pacing satisfies without hitting the sissy low water mark. Must admit the chorus is too dopey to be believed but you can't deny (it would appear) the sparks that go off when the band clicks as a unit. Namesake Chris Daughtry's mug never fails to be camera ready as the accompanying vid shows. He certainly has the playfulness card working for him in spades. Although "Battleship" lacks the intense heat of an "It's Not Over" this single encourages audiences to unwind to the fullest extent possible. Chris and guitar co-conspirators Josh Steely and Brian Craddock bounce of each other as if this sonic marriage had gone down the line for multiple decades. Elvio Fernandes jolts us to attention early on with keyboards that'll have you wondering whose grooves we're privy to exactly. Josh Paul serves in fine standing as support player on bass. The relationship joust once again takes the front and center spotlight. Chris leaves no doubt he comes to this war, romantic resolve fully loaded. "Bullets coming off our lips" is a new one on me, not to mention a fairly disturbing visual that nobody with a weak stomach should be subjected to. Two points anyway for having the stones to put that down on paper and dare to approach a recording studio bigwig with it. Love's course doesn't as they say run smooth. Not that he intended to by any means, but Chris accidentally channels his inner Katy Perry with lyrics like "We're high then we're low, first it's yes then it's now. Comparisons to "Hot 'N' Cold" would be forgivable if not flat out encouraged. I wouldn't be surprised if the sound design was meant to sound all stout hearted man as if we weren't dealing with hunks peddling another chapter in the winds of love and war. You'll have to fill in the sounds of seaworthy vessels sloshing about at the mercy of high tides. Chris gets my vote for being humorously candid about how Daughtry came into being as a band name. Alas Rainbow Butt Monkeys, Chris confesses, was already taken. Gonna have to file that away permanently under "lost opportunity". Any rock show worth its salt feeds off of copious doses of energy. "Battleship" gives the crowds what they paid to see. That chorus could put you off if you're new to Daughtry's corner of the rock universe. However, devoted fan boys and girls likely aren't going to flee screaming in horror. Chris commands a mike, pure and simple. He knows this is the magical power he wields and he displays it to great effect here. From stem to stern "Battleship" promises to have you and your buds raising a glass to love and how very much it's worth fighting for.