Get In On One Righteous Soundcheck

Has it ever occurred to you to explore the passing wonderment of meet-ups on a fag break? Catfish and the Bottlemen explore one such possibility on their new single "Soundcheck" Anticipation frosts the studio session air which can thank Ryan Evan "Van" McCann for since he's got the compelling vocalist role down pat. He goes probing on the introspection tip and you can help but want to shuffle along to wherever his beautiful mind leads. D chords give the song a supercharged slice of backbone, a necessity if your band's just started making tracks in the biz and wants to blaze the trail further. Chord progressions climb ever higher as if you were watching a high school marching band's pyramid formation rising into form. By this I mean one element of the composition pops into view then the other pieces fuse with cohesiveness until you have something worth giving stadium cheers for at the jumbo stadium. "Soundcheck" isn't so peppy that you're comparing it to the "hey look at me" child clamoring for all the attention he can get his covetous mitts on. That said the ride's worth a tank of gas to see where the cruising machine's headed. Jon Barr's hefty panache on drums assures you that wherever the journey leads he's banging his way to a provocative end game. Benji Blakeway lets fly with some super bass conducive to the warm, sexually charged demeanor of the song. This ditty's about chasing after supposed forbidden fruit, and wondering if it's all that forbidden after all. Ryan's convinced soundcheck girl can satisfy his everything disproving his prior wisdom of wanting the gift wrapped bow version of life on Earth as we know it. Lyrically there's much adorable to cuddle up with. The idea of the lady falling asleep with Ryan's jacket as a cover presents images of tour bus mentality and the occasionally softened sweetness required to sign on for such an existence. Two chums on a smoking break leading to what we can only hope are bigger and better vistas. Ah, the soft stroked painting canvas of young love. Google eyes, fully loaded stares, grandiose plans of what the future might mean to them. Not a rare theme to expound upon in contemporary pop waters but the telling gets richer with each new group of audio thespians finding its way onto the scene. "Soundcheck" has the sound proving you can go farther, faster on less petrol then you might think.

Nathaniel Ratecliff and the Night Sweats Appear Good As New On Current Project.

You'll be highly pleased with the results of Nathaniel Ratecliff and the Night Sweats new single "I Need Never Grow Old". It's sound is as vital as one could ever hope to achieve. Mixed bag of goodies any discerning music lover would be honored to plunk down time and money on. Mr. Ratecliff's hefty voice has likely seen and won more that its fair share of battles, much to the delight of audiences everywhere. If you're a sax man you'll get a real bang out of the horn section driving this train. So committed to getting amiable with the crowd and maximizing the moments they're allowed. The drummer, as does any good bartender worth his salt, knows when to pile on the charm and, conversely, when to let the customer be right and fully in love with his drink order. Nathaniel and bunch incorporate rough and ready crowd pleasing vibes and why wouldn't the crowd join in. The guitarist on display knows what a good time is in store for his band's disciples. You couldn't ask for tighter harmonies as the collective voice rises up to speak. The guys get the wine flowing with a smoothness only a baby's butt could emulate. The C chord dominates but D's presence is just as equally felt. The drumming goes up more than just a notch, it takes revellers, crowd, and the newly uninitiated alone for big time revelling. What I find most enthralling about the horns is how they totally embrace you, the family you've never met before but would love to become acquainted with. The paternal camaraderie shines through. There is no room for doubters on this grog laden voyage. Step on board and prepare to be electrified. The pacing between drum and horns is nothing short of impeccable. Both ends of the musical coin are off to the races, protective mask in place, going on the long, steady, musical run up to glory. That bass, as we clesr the two minute mark, has some pronounced thump to it. You can see the individual involved tapping his foot on the floor, certain that this is some party he's agreed to contribute to. Bass is one of those instruments that doesn't occupy quite the same national attention as lead guitar what with your Eddie Van Halens and Jimi Hendrix claiming the lion's share of the spotlight. Nathan and friends are surely worthy of at least a fraction of that love. They're earnest, they play every note with a not to missed, not to be disregarded passion. Rod Stewart knew enough to declare that even the president needs passion. The story of the lyrics peeks into this band's generous soul. The universal need to try and fail brings its head to the forefront. He proves there is something to said for just taking time, standing in the rain. What a beautiful natural vista that creates. However brawn trumps beauty this go round and it makes for a better project. The track's cadences and textures could easily have been brought to uber enchanting life in a train station. Lucky for us such metrosexual means weren't required. "I Need Never Grow Old" possesses the unknown beauteous quality that make it a conversation starter for decades hence.

Flashback Facts About Pat Benatar

Would like to spread some love to my '80s idol Pat Benatar who has for my money one of the dollar for dollar best back catalogs in female rock history. For starters "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" brought tough girl status to glorified heights. "Heartbreaker" painted her as a femme fatale who wouldn't mind sticking the ax right down your back. Who can forget "Promises In The Dark" the masterwork off of "Precious TIme" Even today the live concert video holds up well. Pat and a bunch of contest winner filling a concert hall to hear Pat sing out in that five octave range of hers. The title cut had a saga style emnblazoned on it. Today it remains the charmer. Moving along to "Get Nervous" the title track made you want to sleep with your lights on. The propelling Neil Giraldo guitar to start lends the explosiveness that 34 years on still rocks my socks. "Little Too Late" begins handsomely with Myron Grombacher drumming away, a man on a sizable mission, a bombast bounty hunter with shifty sticks. Then there was the live album "Planet Earth" which included "Love Is a Battlefield". Truer words, lethal rhythm line. Also of note was "Lipstick Lies" the feather in the cap of which was Roger Capps belting out incredible keyboard fills as an opener. Of course Pat snarls like the erotic she devil we die hards knew she always was. Along we go to "Tropico" which contained the soothing "We Belong" composed during an ldyllic part of Pat and Neil's married life, the birth of their daughter Haley. It's an intensely personal song which captures their in the family way and connubial bliss ideally. "Ooh Ooh Song" captures a carnival vibe innocence. If you've seen the vid you know exactly what I'm driving at. Then along came "Seven The Hard Way", not a favorite album for Pat or Neil themselves. Too anguished a labor job to bring about warm fuzzies. It did birth "Invincible" a track from the soundtrack to the movie "The Legend of Billie Jean". Superb drumming, great guitar, and Pat belting out her words of misunderstood redemption. "Sex As A Weapon exploded into the top 40 as a cautionary tale of how female exploitation should neither be encouraged nor praised. Also noteworthy is La Bel Age, a track that basks in a nostalgic warm glow. In 1991 Pat opted for True Love" a straight up blues record. While not a chart world beater it was Pat's true labor of love and she was satisfied with the results. As for "Gravity's Rainbow" "Everybody Lay Down" remains the only reason you need to have bought the album for this showcased classic Pat shelling out classic rock. "Somebody's Baby" also acquitted itself well. Rough and dirty track playing up to Pat's well developed maternal side. Since I don't have much history with 1997's "Inammorata" or 2003's "Go" I refrain from comment. Pat Benatar on parade...what a show it was.

Barns Courtney Lights An Amazing Fire

How would you like to sit around a campfire with this ditty holding court? Barns Courtney ignites a call to action with "Fire" which has this sort of rumbling appeal to it. Very much in the hand clapping mode. So very animated to where the entire campfire's raising a glass in jubilation. Barns Courtney is a British singer emboldened with plenty of pluck. He was discovered by none other than Harvey Weinstein and Bradley Cooper who helped keep his dream of superstar lifestyle from fizzling into rubble. This Brit has a bright future ahead of him if "FIre" is any indication. "Fire" appears on the soundtrack to the movie Burnt, a movie about a success driven chef going for broke in the heatedly competitive world of cooking. Can't help but love the drums along the mohawk percussion beats at work here. Right along the edge of the warpath to be sure. Not that the lyrics are heady with pink-drizzled optimism. Consider this..."Lonely shadow's following me, Lonely ghost come crawling. Lonely voices crawling for me." Not the stuff of feelgood memories. It's hard not to appreciate the zing Barns employs the melody with. He skips first gear and launches straight headlong into fourth. He takes us all along for a wonderful sojourn we wish had no conclusion. Brsdley as the lyrics attest, "Sold my soul to the calling. Sold my soul to sweet melody." I believe him. The name of the game is passion, and Barns displays it in spades. Mom said "Son let it be." Mom knew what she was talking about. He waxes poetic in the lines such as, "Thousand faces staring at me. Thousand times I've fallen. Thousand voices dead at my feet." Such bold pronouncements coming from a man who's the type who has known his fair share of globetrotting. But wait...it gets juicier. "Ghosts and devils come crawling, crawling my name out, lost in the fire." If ever there was a place for toasted marshmallows and campfire songs, it would be right here, right now, with "Fire" leading the way. "Fire" is poised to sizzle on a ton of national airwaves, at least if justice gets served it will.

Let NEEDTOBREATHE Jolt You With Some Happiness

Do you appreciate the intentions of a song that lifts you high above the din of modern life? If you said yes then you'll very much give thanks for "Happiness", an uplifting effort from NEEDTOBREATHE, a jaunty collective based in Seneca, South Carolina. The chorus alone could drive a hardened alcoholic out of his funk. Across the board, these guys come to represent with first-rate musical ability. Bear Rinehart puts his vocal abilities in winged form and lets them sail out far and wide. Meanwhile Seth Bolt lights a match under bass and watches the flames burn bright for country mile after mile. His picking definitely comes from the higher power they're dedicated to. Josh Lovelace does a nice job in support of backing vocals and keyboards. Bo Rinehart is no slouch with his backup vocals and guitar. "Happiness frees you from your psychological prison from the outset. The chord progressions stay on the warm cozy side. Try to avoid coming down with a pronounced case of reassured feeling inside. The beat won't leave you gasping for air in an attempt to keep up. NEEDTOBREATHE gladly holds a chair out for you so you can enjoy its highly generous musical smorgasboard. In the word department simple forgiveness runs the show. Bear comes off about as humble as you could possibly want. If the opening lines are any indication, he's the kind of boy a mom would be proud to show off to relatives, co-workers, friends, the man in the moon, etc...Country rock is one genre NEEDTOBREATHE falls under. These lyrics tell the whole story. "I got a homesick heart but a long ways left to go. I've been doing my part but I ain't got much to show. Definite George Strait territory but under the auspices of Christian rock cleansing. For those of you wishing on the furthest star you'd be hard pressed not to be smitten with "I got dreams that keep me up in the dead of night telling me I wasn't made for the simple life." I relate fully. When reality and fantasy don't meld as planned it can be a real downer. How fortunate we have Bear at the ready to remind us that adopting new dreams is important to nourish that which can't be observed with the naked eye. The distant light certainly has reaped boffo dividends for NEEDTOBREATHE. Come right out and get your inner share on. We have open ears and open minds. If you peek in closely you'll discover gospel sensibilities. The voices aren't tethered to Earth's innate limitations. Therein lies the sparkling joy of the song' overall sound. You can hear the fusion of cosmic stardust lighting up the night sky so you, I, and all those in between can be repeatedly amazed. Bear knows this joint road has potholes and strength to keep on keeping on can now and again prove to be in short supply. However, nowhere can I conclude he's opted to throw in the towel and, in so doing, let the Man get him down. He's a voyager you can go the distance with knowing he's not the type to chuck you overboard. Purity of heart counts for something on this shared piece of real estate we call Earth. "Happiness" blows in the door like a calming light north wind after a spring storm. Here's an example of happiness pursued and obtained. And to think not even four minutes was required.

Andy Black Makes Dancing Mandatory

Don't you love a song title that practically begs you to ignore its overt meaning. Take Andy Black's "We Don't Have To Dance" for instance. The groove is so lightning fast you'd have to be completely averse to the changing times not to want to shuffle your feet. What's more Andy's a fascinating character study. His vocal delivery cuts right to the heart of the matter. If you make him mad, watch out. He knows which buttons to push because he installed them. This glam metal leaning artist had the good sense to recruit quality drumming. It pretty much makes the chorus line fly right off the page. Usually a hard rock drum has you thinking third gear at most. "We Don't Have To Dance" fires up the equivalent of a sixth gear. That slap in the face from "It's so nice to meet you, let's never meet again." Cruelty with a capital "C". You likely weren't expecting that, were you? Black and white cinematography serves this number well. Brings out the cobra strike in Andy's eyes. It also makes his tats easier to appreciate. You shouldn't look for any sort of letup in energy because there's none to be had. Visualize a boxer who from first round to last throws haymaker after haymaker. To make matters worse, if your his opponent, he can reload at will. Brutality can be the only outcome. Beefy guitar driven composition which propels Andy to greater and greater heights. I appreciate the opening Steve Millet Band reference because I was a fan of the early '80s gem "Abracadabra". Possibly I'm alone in the admiration society. Much greater love appears to be directed at "The Joker" but I kind of thought that song a little too goofy. Label me a prig if you must but I couldn't wrap my essence around it. Back to Andy's venting session. You can sense from "Fresh regrets, vodka sweats." Andy's the type of guy who you don't want to double cross in a bar fight. He's amassed quite a few don'ts, namely "We don't have to dance." "We don't have to smile." "We don't have to talk." Why not put gags over their mouths so we can't make out any expressions at all. What the face doesn't express the heart no doubt can pick up the slack for. "Why is there joy in this poison?" Okay everybody, a shower must be taken. That last question was far too repugnant to be left without substantial cleansing. Still, as questions go that one lingers in the memory bank for a fair length of time. The rock scene's about cult of personality. Billy Idol has the sneer. Bob Dylan's the troubadour storyteller. Billy Joel has his piano rep to stand behind. At this early stage in Andy Black's career what he has going for him is presence...oodles of it. On a concert stage that translates into packed arenas, imposing record sales and a career that potentially could span decades. Candid expression of thought proves itself an asset for Andy. The best example I can sniff out is "I'm a hazard to myself." Lesser souls wouldn't be that bold. He obviously shoots from the hip and, as an added bonus, doesn't get his splatter all over us. "We Don't Have To Dance" settles into an irresistible melodic pattern and then dares us all not to sit idly on the sidelines letting the moments pass, unaware of what we're missing out on. Andy has great reason to cop an attitude. With what he brings to this dance, he knows the future looks glorious.

Hellyeah Explodes With a Fury That's Far From Human

You'd be wise not to judge this installment of the Hellyeah saga by its cover. The new single, "Human" could not have been made by mortal souls. The initial barrage of heavy metal thunder proves that in spades. Chad Gray does a masterful job fooling us into believing we're in for something sent to us with a soft touch. All of a sudden...pow!!! Vinnie Paul lays down the law via a display of drum bashing fury that nobody in his right mind could have orchestrated. Kudos to the metal community for never opting to play with a full deck of any sort. The first round of metal mayhem succeeds in catering to the melody lover in all of us Co-conspirator guitarists Tom Maxwell and Christian Brady insert the artful aspects while bassist Kyle Sanders goes jackhammer subtle. I mean his styling doesn't leave survivors and it just so happens "Human" emerges a better single because of it. If that isn't enough to keep your motor running Chad does the vocal equivalent of impaling himself on a cross and then imploring others to set him on fire. Chad gets and deserves credit for novel wordplay. For instance who's going to find fault with "You drove the stake in my worst mistake." or "Brought out the evil that's the devil in me." Clever wordplay and that's repeated in a never tedious manner. The guitar players know how to balance rough and finesse until they gel like its players were seasoned pros. The accompanying lyric video makes pants wetting nightmares a foregone conclusion. No shortage of cadaver imagery to set you on the edge of your seat. But...back to the craftsmanship. It's tri-layered and damn proud of it too. The chorus takes the lion's share of the aggressive machismo. What a fantastic job of squeezing vigor out of every single last drop until all we're left with is a beautiful mess. So what is Chad angst riddled statement in the final analysis? "I've been damaged, left in ruin because I'm broken, flawed, and just human." Summed up sparingly using Vinnie's drums as the battering ram you can't hide from. "Heaven's sake is forsaken". Metal poetry at its finest. Didn't create all creation". Way to keep from stealing Christ's swagger Chad. I bet he's appreciative. I'm appreciative of how HellYeah combines firepower with some solid straight ahead melody, the latter a bonus if you want to hear Chad's torment up close and personal. Throughout "Human" the speed limit goes right out the window. Better know how to keep up or you'll be eating dust for the duration. HellYeah gives you the punch you need after a lethargic stretch spanning anywhere from days to weeks to maybe years. Added word wizardry includes "You were the anger in all my danger". Or how about old habits keep me cold". I don't what Chad had more fun whipping up...the word games or the built up angst he finally gets to unleash. Cards on the table I'd say "Human" speaks volumes about unresolved human issues and does so in a way where everyone gets their inner turmoil out and, by virtue of that, everyone wins. Hellyeah did its audience and its craft a great service this time around.

Clap Along To New Fitz And The Tantrums

Fitz And The Tantrums gave us "The Walker", a ditty that exceeded the recommended daily amount of catchy. The LA tribe has returned, and in fine fettle I might add. "HandClap" presents the music listening public with laid back raw entertainment on a massive scale. So which part of this track would bring ear to ear grin to your subconscious the most? So many choices to pick from. Joseph Karnes makes a stellar case for his bass guitar commanding the lion's share of applause worthy moments. It makes the song so cool you'd wonder if it was composed on an ice block. The singalong worthy title gets its juice from the prolific clapping going on. Then we might consider the segment where Jeremy Ruzumna demands the ball on keyboards and subsequently gets it. The passage I'm referring to starts with "Every night when the stars come out am I the only living soul around?" Bass takes a holiday. Keyboards gliding on down the rhythm oriented highway. What a luscious ride, like an airplane easing into the speed race right before take off. This type of track has the sheen to cut across all multi-generational biases and boundaries. Whether you're 8 or 88 you'll find something to like about "HandClap". It embraces the good life in the eyes of one young cosmopolitan and the myriad possibilities that entails. In truth, the only downside to the song is the video's organic construction doesn't live up to the song's playfulness. But, with so much easygoing joviality on the table that's a very minute sticking point. The words themselves are flush with effervescence. The chords stay in a manageable range. That is to say, not much brain strain is needed to follow where the key notes lead. Michael Fitzpatrick excels in his role as man on the town/vocalist at large. Extremely easy octave to follow. Then again Fitz and the Tantrums does what any pro ball club worth its salt does in order to achieve excellence...it leaves its entire game out on the floor. This band does what's necessary to leave a favorable impression in the ears of listeners, albeit with a lot less in your face sass than was summoned up for "The Walker". "HandClap" relies on the titular percussion to grease the wheels to a favorable conclusion. Michael espouses the virtues of the woman in his life in flowing terms, in four different ways no less...a drug, luxury, sugar, and gold. No wedding band you say? Why not? Sounds like a lot of highly frosted praise going a long way towards picking out china patterns. Does lack of someone whistling hurt "HandClap"? No, and that's because "HandClap" gets its jollies following a unique, stripped bare vantage view of its own that achieves a similar, no less compelling effect. John Wicks weighs in with percussion but he's sort of a background day player by comparison to the contribution of his fellow band mates. Feel free to turn the car radio up to maximum octane when this comes on. "HandClap" merits a round of applause for helping the distraught keep their blues at bay.

Bear Hands Not Worth A Listen Any Time Of Day

One ripple on the ocean...drawn out painfully slow. That's the gist of "2AM", the new single from Brooklyn post punk outfit Bear Hands. About the kindest thing I can say about it is Val Loper lays down some fairly impressive bass work. Sad to say the musicianship gets drowned out by the sinking Titanic depressing lyrics. Don't recommend this to a depressed friend looking for any plausible excuse to off himself. He'll be Hamburger Helper by dawn. If you haven't been living under a rock lately you've been noticing that the survival rate for esteemed social hangouts appears to be getting less and less pronounced all the time. No matter where you're from I'm willing to bet you've recently mourned the loss of a beloved watering hole that was sacked in the flimsy excuse name of "That's the price of progress". Here in the ATX corridor so many restaurants, both long standing and in the infant stage, have been shuttered I'd need Tylenol to get through a detailed explanation. Leave it to vocalist/guitarist Dylan Rau to strike the raw nerve that's pinched us all a time or three. His pre-chorus whining isn't doing too much for my personal buzz at present. Think about that. I haven't even hit the main chorus and already I sense a definite grounds for chronic depression entering the picture. The whole pre-chorus makes you think "I sure as hell don't want to hang with this dude. He needs to either lighten up or find better drugs to simulate the euphoria." Here it now is in all of its autopsy heightening splendor. "All your friends are sober. Yeah we're getting older. Going out's a drag now. All my spots have closed now, and we can fantasize without much of a mess. And making love is fine but all I want is to forget how old I am." For starters, what a terrible message for the tribe you may have helped sire. "Hey kids, if you're not inebriated, life isn't any fun." Too bad you conveniently left out the part about how being wrapped around your car steering wheel flirting with critical condition because you went on a drunken bender to top all benders isn't particularly fun either. Secondly, how very rude to stare at your own existentially minded navel rather than make love to your wife in a masculine manner. She probably wasn't rooting for this trajectory when she signed on for the whole marriage covenant thing. That line of self-loathing totally obscures the musical chops on display here. When Dylan the Dismal is too busy making you want to visit asphyxiation station, who's got head space to spend on...oh...I don't know...guitars, bass, drums...minor trifles such as those. If I had breathing room to clearly plug into the instruments on a basic level, I could possibly extend my kindnesses further than mere bass playing. Another quibble I have revolves around the song length. Close to five minutes is too long for something better explored in private on a psychiatrist's couch. That way his very obvious drama doesn't bleed all over me. TJ Orscher drums admirably, but admirably is the sort of word you reserve for a kind Boy Scout helping a nice old lady across the street, not for a post punk band's skin basher. The moniker Bear Hands is a cute use of a homymym. Would that the cuteness factor had trickled down to the song itself. C'est la vie. As it stands "2 AM" isn't the type of song worth listening to at any hour of the day.

Something Too Familiar About Ben Rector's "Brand New"

Level with me blog buddies. Do you want a solid, vanilla ice cream agreeable song to get you through the bike ride you're contemplating? Today is your lucky day then. Allow me to introduce you to Ben Rector who I commend for having the audacity to call his opening greeting to the world "Brand New" when, truth be told, there isn't a lot brand new about it when you break it down to its molecular level. Lyrically we're transported back to our teenage glory years when taking chances didn't automatically make us think, "What about our retirement money? Shouldn't we be saving for a rainy day?" New sunglasses, jeans that fit your body perfectly, windows rolled down, the earmarks of a nicely spent youth. Prepare to dab your eyes in dewy nostalgia as the imagery rolls across your cerebellum. You'd swear Ben stole the chorus sections from Bastille since they're similarly orchestrated, plenty of horsepower, each man knowing his cue. You'll need a PowerBar or three to keep up with the brisk gallop "Brand New" operates at. The drumming here can coax even the most jaded music maven into fits of spontaneous activity. So spirited and yes, in its own relentless way, life affirming. I, like most of you, are just getting to know this Nashville denizen so I can't speak to his personality but if this song is anything like said personality you'll likely be shaking your head wondering why you just wasted this segment of your life on him. "Brand New" isn't a disagreeable chap. It simply isn't doing anything other than spraying wistful nostalgia into the ozone, hoping there's an audience ought there ready, willing, and able to breathe it in. You know the wise suggestion "Dance like no one's watching?" Ben didn't forget to pack that into his kit bag in the form of "Like when I close my eyes and don't even care if anybody sees me dancing." As a bonus he throws in cultural name dropping like "I feel like a young John Cusack, like making big mistakes." As a fan of the thespian's "High Fidelity (set in a record store so, yeah, I'm all over it) I appreciate the show of respect. So, what I guess I've concluded is "Brand New" possesses shades of the novel in spurts on the lyric sheet but that it's not novel enough to explain why brand loyalty to Ben Wear is warranted. As a full time music lover I'm fond of witnessing new talent making its way through the pipeline. Frankly, it's the only aspect of change in our perpetually changing world that doesn't intimidate me. As long as there's new music to listen to I can dig deep to find optimism. Unfortunately "Brand New" flat out retreads hollowed grounds of youthful longing that, while no less poignant,lack something in the originality department.