Letters From The Fire Drives Home Its Pain With Smoldering Results

I'm stunned at the raw pistons chugging along behind San Francisco's Letters From The Fire. The drumming sets itself up to give you the best kind of aural migraines (yes, they do exist). Mike Keller doesn't even comes close to phoning it in on guitar. His chainsaw relentlessness makes "Worth The Pain" hard to turn your ears away from. To add to that drummer Brian Stumwall's licks are beyond belief. He rips into his kit as if he had a big time vendetta to settle with it. Vocalist Alexa Kabazie has quite the set of tonsils to flash. You can really detect both the fire and brimstone if you listen closely enough. Cameron Stuckey's guitar contributions can't be overlooked either. They go down like the most sumptuous feast you've always wanted to try but never quite got around to. Bass player Clayton Wages isn't a lightweight. Right out of the box "Worth The Pain" rumbles from within the shadows. The longer you listen the better the addictive snarl becomes. Letters From The Fire no doubt deserves the respect it commands. I like the mixture of sound each member brings to the table. Alexa bristles against a lover who created the scorned woman who has since morphed into the blood dripping monster he sees before him. Actually "Worth The Pain" could work as a battle anthem for any female who's smarting but not so much so that she can't sink her teeth into the newly declared object of her contempt. Alexa thanks this manchild for walking away because the experience has solidified her bend don't break resolve. The bridge teems with examples of why Letters From The Fire gels successfully as a tight knit collective of musical maniacs. These folks wouldn't know neutral gear if it jumped up and bit them on the crotch region. The stick the dismount conclusion just blows away all doubt that these Californians have a bright future in front of them. "Worth The Pain", to my discerning ears, is a pleasure to listen to from start to finish.

The Heydaze Emerge On The Scene With a Lively, Painless Debut

Bounciness personified best describes the strong selling point behind New York outfit The Heydaze's introduction to American audiences, "Hurt Like Hell". Don't let the title scare you off though. The Heydaze have crafted a fascinating opening message to the world where guitar takes the lead while the other components of the band gasp for air in a valiant attempt to catch up. If you're not swaying in traffic as the notes of this song ease their way into your bloodstream then you, ladies and gents, have no soul that I'm aware of. At the top of the heap lies vocalist Jesse Fink who possesses an amiable style that alternative radio is already holding close to its bosom. Andrew Spelman breathes radiant life into his guitar, a little something for Jesse to cruise over top of, to promenade step down the runway as he shows off his best rock poses. Tyler Matte thumps his way to glory behind the drum kit. He also appears to be having quite the time, hammering home just the right amount of pizzazz. New York has always been a hotbed for talent extending back for decades and The Heydaze look ready to join that proud tradition of musical drive. Alexander Giantz adds texture via his swoon worthy bass contributions. The Heydaze know better than to ramble on for six minutes plus, plunging its menacing dagger into affairs of the heart. What's more they shouldn't have to when three minutes fifteen seconds works just fine. Best of all Jesse doesn't beat around the bush. The lyrics convey as much. There's this woman in his life who causes him to have sleepless nights on the heels of a headache brought on by red wine. Sounds understandable enough, yes? Cold sweat and late night caffeine aren't doing wonders for his long term prospects either. How brave it is of Jesse to lay his cards on the table so freely, knowing what price he may end up paying for the disclosure. Essentially the lady in question hurts like hell, hence the barbed wire spiked title. He's in pain and has her to both blame and thank. He's only got himself to blame for her presence but individual accountability's asking a bit too much. The chorus is contagiously catchy and the musicianship superb. Do you want a quick jolt of cardiovascular zoom? "Hurt Like Hell" will give you the right dosage without bringing on signs of a cardiac episode. The third verse finds Jesse indulging in what appears to be his first bite in some time. In addition he's become quite friendly with the snooze button. In short "Hurt Like Hell" only leaves you smarting due to the mind scrambling experience you get when basking in the aura of a band that's doing everything possible to demonstrate why its star is on the rise.

Cage the Elephant Brings On Shivers In Mass Quantities

Bowling Green Kentucky's Cage The Elephant storms back into the spotlight using the delectably eerie track "Cold Cold Cold" as its undeniable calling card. The manner in which the band's instruments mesh together is bound to make you want to sleep with the lights on for the foreseeable future. This track's bound to tickle the fancy of funeral directors the world over. I can see the pallbearers assembling right now for their somber march to some unfortunate soul's eternal rest. Were I to single out one band member in particular who's chiefly responsible for upping the ick factor on this simply gorgeous composition it would be bass player Daniel Tichenor. While the notes he hits don't exactly venture into minor key territory they are nonetheless unsettling. You and I both know the ride we're taking isn't going to be lousy with rainbows and moonbeams. What good's a seat belt anyway if you're too petrified by what you see coming on the horizon? Adding to this comes drummer Jared Champion who keeps the beat emphatically, borrowing just a nanosecond at a time. His is the underlying exclamation point boosting vocalist Matthew Shultz's cries for prompt medical attention. Matthew's sentiments get pulled straight from the desperate core of a man who really isn't sure of how much time he has left but isn't erring on the side of longevity at this moment. Try not to be sympathetic in the face of Matt's predicament. I'm not sure whether or not Matt's pointless breathing stems from a failed relationship, general apathy, or basic medical malfunction but the fear comes across as genuinely unmistakable. Ratcheting up the discomfort in the second verse we get Brad Shultz dropping in keyboard fills that send added discomfort straight to our rapidly beating hearts. This is where "Cold Cold Cold" excels without argument. Each new verse shuttles in added complexities. By the time the song heads for home goosebump vibes have flooded our nervous systems. It's a question of when doom will catch up with us...not if. "Cold Cold Cold" sounds like it would've felt right at home in the '60s alongside other shade of gray downers like the Mamas and the Papas' "California Dreamin'" and Jan and Dean's "Dead Man's Curve". Kind of a suicide selection playlist of sorts. "Cold Cold Cold" stands out as a prime example of a song in the key of nausea. It's vulnerable, beautiful, and Pepto Bismol worthy simultaneously. Trust me when I say that combination packs quite a powerful wallop. The cliff up ahead looks plenty foreboding yet we're drawn to it like the proverbial moths to flame. Usually drummers play at least a supporting role in a song's composition. Even though Jared isn't churning out hooks alongside Matt's vocals his short bursts of power would be missed were they not included. I compare his badda bing oomph to a much loved car's backfiring boom. Maybe it's not the prettiest jolt you'll ever hear but vitality carries the day all the same. Thanks to "Cold Cold Cold" Cage the Elephant has once again placed a hot nail biter on Billboard's rock charts. You'd best have your primary care doctor on speed dial. We can't rule out the onset of depression.

Spoon Dishes Out a Red Hot Rock Dance Hybrid

Please welcome Spoon back to the Ear Buzz party and clutching a catchy fusion of its familiar rock smarts as well as a dance beat that to say the least is infectious as hell. Lead tonsil flasher Britt Daniel has done a wonderful job over the years of keeping audiences guessing what's coming next from his band. "Hot Thoughts" isn't easy to lump in one category. Is it straight up rock which throws in some keyboard frills to keep people adequately amused? Does the lion's share of the glory go to keyboard player Eric Harvey for embossing "Hot Thoughts" with enough twinkles to make us think we're still muddling through Christmas 2016? Drummer Jim Emo certainly digs in his heels in the heavy percussion emphasis department. "Hot Thoughts" wouldn't have the propelling energy angle locked up without Jim skipping along like a adrenaline juiced puppy. As a collective Spoon has presented a trinket that should have people using music as an intellectual jump off point to conversation reasonably satisfied. In addition there sits plenty of shuffling beat bits to transform would be wallflowers into dance floor denizens. The lyrics don't shy away from man woman direct confrontation. Her hot thoughts melt his mind. Mack truck subtlety to say the least. Another novel concept regards this notion of accents mixing together, a unique lead-in to a pick up line if you ask me. "Hey baby, your Aussie accent really turns me on. Let's grab a six pack of Foster's and head back to my place and see how scandalously we can behave." I don't believe too many modern songs call attention to the nuances of accents, but then again I guess that means the marketplace hasn't been glutted with that topic so more power to Spoon for filling a void that cried out to be filled. Britt has taken time off from his kingdom. Sounds ultra regal and mysterious to me. What type of kingdom does he rule over? Are numerous minions involved in grunt work or what? Spoon's new farm to market friendly piece nourishes both intellect and tapping toes simultaneously. The band hops around from chord to chord flawlessly. The overall flow bounces on gusto that's got quite a bit left in the tank long after the song trails off. If there's any doubt Britt has masculine wiles the come hither shake in his voice easily removed it. I'm not sure I'm all that comfortable knowing what Britt's "creatures" are. After all he fashions himself as a man in possession of a kingdom so I'm bold enough to think those creatures breath fire and fast track your blood pressure to dangerous levels. I forgive you for scratching your head at the strangeness of the lyrics. Just be careful the scratching doesn't cause unwanted bald spots. That could prove especially disturbing if you're a chick. In the end "Hot Thoughts" embodies cool gland based excitement. You'd be wise to let its heat work its way down to your pinkie toes. They'll thank you for it later.