Fall Out Boy's Darkness An Alluring Spectacle

Listening to Fall Out Boy's collective body of work isn't merely a brief chunk of time hunkered down with new music. It's a trip into a series of captivating dream worlds. In fact "Dance Dance" is the closest the band has really come to a straightforward pop rock ditty. I've found it best to focus on the collective spark among the four rather trying to get to intimate with the lyrics, as literate as they often are. You've got one camp pinning its loyalties to Patrick Stump's angst riddled thoughts while the other gets stunned by how the arrangements seem to grow higher by the second. "Thanks For The Mmrs" was pretty damned thrilling due to the through the looking glass infectiousness that coursed through its veins. The dudes offered you a ride on their jet ski and you couldn't help but say yes. There was that hint of a sinister side but that only fueled the curiosity factor. Here in 2013, Fall Out Boy has returned from their three-year hiatus with "My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark", which deserves to be an early front-runner for best title for a song in any genre. Whatever hooch is their hard stuff of choice they need to keep imbibing that. As in efforts past the lyrics zero in on relationship drama. Can't take my ears off of: "A constellation of tears on your lashes. Burn everything you love, then burn the ashes." Okay Pat, maybe not so much hooch for you. Your intense stare is starting to not only make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up but I swear they've sprouted mini parachutes so they'll have something to help aid in a safe landing once they hit the ground. Pat's certainly got the ability to haunt with this voice but it's an undiluted cut the crap sound. There's no raspiness to block the raw magic. Truth be the told this is a beautifully silly number. The chorus merits one shaking one's midriff in a guilty pleasure style, shades pulled, veneer of adult respectability thrown to the breeze. Andy Hurley tosses in a thick beat behind the kit. Pete Wentz, the lyrical brains behind the rock moxie enthralls on bass. I'd say this effort has a little bit of hard rock/metal camp without any distracting attention being lofted at what the band looks like or whether or not any of them cuts the lady's man figure. Take a few listens to "I'm on fire!!" as it's uttered here. If you don't have at least some semblance of a goofy grin on your face then you, sir, have something not quite right in your cranium. Pace wise things the band takes the time to savor the twisted landscape. "This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race" was a uninhibited carnival with Pat acting as possessed sideshow barker. There was certainly a massive backwards journey through time at its core. That song teased you with the promise of going into fourth gear at any moment until, in short order, it lived up to that promise. "Songs" stomps along with the kind of measured potency that's appropriate for a time when a lot of Americans are hesitant about learning when or where the next shoe will drop but for the sake of getting some sort of answer they push forward. It's win-win when you mix fun in a bombast blender with fright factor. The forthcoming "Save Rock and Roll" promises to be a gas if this set is top heavy with strangely endearing creations like this.

Steven Wilson & Friends Present a Raven You Mustn't Refuse

Oh the memories you could stoke 'round the crackling fire with Steven Wilson's stunning exercise in well fleshed out ambition "The Raven That Refused To Sing (And Other Stories). Each of the 6 gems on this exhilarating necklace of notes serves a totally self-contained chapter in a thought-provoking opus. "Luminol" is about the most agile sampling of musical fusion cuisine you'll feast on in this still fairly young 2013. Theo Travis's flute flies high, catching any and all tailwinds in his general direction. Not only is Steve a modestly engaging storyteller his bass is a swarthy marvel of technique. Adam Holzman's keyboards are drug addled delectable. As a whole the pacing leaps trapeze like from one instrument fusion to the next. Imagine if you will a small child turning a kaleidoscope and you have a pretty good idea of the shape-shifting at work. Guthrie Govan's lead guitar refuses to be tamed. Marco Minnemann slaps his drums with malevolent aplomb.  "Drive Home", despite the unsettling main plotline of a man having serious trouble coming to terms with his wife dying in a car accident, is approachable due to a gelling persona that one might want to get to know better on a woodsy stroll. Steve's finest lyrical moments come with: "Clear away the jetsam in your brain." He reminds us that we can be imprisoned by loneliness despite the conclusion of a recent dark situation. This brand of contemplation is quietly agonizing but due for an agreeable caress all the same. Big hugs seem inadequate but hearing the protagonist's awkward struggle you want to at least give empathy a try. "The Holy Drinker" is severely eerie. You've entered the parallel dimension of a guy you'd be wise to avoid bumping into in the dead of night. In this case the baddie's a highly pious televangelist who has the audacity to tell others by not loving God they're living their lives wrong even when he himself is caught in the grip of a highly mortal affliction...alcoholism. The sinfully incredible bass licks are brought to us by Nick Beggs who '80s music aficionados might remember from one-hit wonder band Kajagoogoo which reached #5 in Billboard with the keyboard eargasm "Too Shy". Nick hasn't lost a step since those halcyon days. Theo Travis takes his sax off its leash for "Pin Drop". That state of falling many people have experienced in their dream states commands the room. Here's a plunge which isn't so much alarming as it is a focus point of idle curiosity. Unlike in dreams this fall might lead to an appealing alternate playscape. Lamentably the typical content explores convenience male-female couplings where love definitely isn't the answer."The Watchmaker" brings pathos to the center ring buoyed by Adam Holzman whose dignified strokes of piano lend some sensitivity to subject matter such as a watchmaker who never had any clearly defined emotional wellspring to visit throughout he decades of his life. At no point was a violent outburst part of his package. As for the title track it's achingly fragile as you might expect when the content deals with an Edgar Allan Poe bird that the elderly protagonist is hoping is the reincarnation of his long dead sister who has come to whisk him away to the next life. This song is best eased into gracefully much like you'd ease into the bubbles of a hot tub. Don't just plunge in. Allow some time for the cosmic temperature to allay your darkest fears first. I have a great deal of respect for this effort. That's not necessarily because he and his musical entourage of kindred spirits delve into raw topics that aren't all butterflies and teddy bears. It's more to do with how he carries himself with dignity. He drops the right shadings into the mix regardless of which of the varied instruments he's employing to get his point across. Steven the vocalist is merely the humble storyteller. The musical instruments speak far more than he'd ever try to even at his most embattled. "The Raven" sings, trills, bangs, strums, and above all things, connects in a way where you're drawn into this orbit from head to foot. Maybe not an easy sell for mainstream audiences but that's its loss really. The heart beating from this "Raven" barely lets up at all even though the broken characters depicted here often seem like they are dangling from the thinnest of lifelines.

For Paramore, Being In The Now Not Such a Good Thing

It's amusing to watch bands, rock in particular gallivant from a raw energy to a project that has to have had a fair amount of studio, major-label courting influence. The one band in particular I'm singling out is Paramore. To make my case and, to avoiding bringing out the notion that I'm on a first name basis with the band's entire record catalog, all I need do is draw your attention to "Misery Business", the opening single from 2007's "Riot!" album. What drew me to the band was this song. I was floored by the lethal level of energy. Former drummer Zac Farro was amazingly tight. That's an example of channeling your emotions for maximum effect. Definite machine gun pulse at work. Hayley Williams was as snarling at the mike as former guitarist Josh Farro was on guitar. Hayley's lyrics dripped "woman in search of getting her just desserts". Nobody left a single inhalation or exhalation unaccounted for. You may call it guilty pleasure but I call it surgically memorable. Once the song concludes you know you weren't entertained by some posers who were trying to fool you into thinking they knew what quality rock ought to sound like. Fast forward to "Now" the title track to Paramore's new self-titled effort. There's a gloss to the overall sound. Not only that there are one too many examples of a repetitive chorus that's trying to hard to become the earwig you can't shake from your skull. "Don't try to take this from me" gets tired real fast as does the truism 'There's a time and a place to die, but this ain't it." Ditto for "If there's a future, we want it now." I'm no dummy. One of the main ingredients to a successfully selling song is lyrical content that won't let go of your imagination. However a fine line must be balanced between a repetitive chorus you're eager to be reunited with and one that runs a risk of getting on your nerves. "Now" falls pretty squarely into the latter category. Hayley has lost some of the fire that made "Misery Business" such a giddy release of voyeurism. Charter member and lead guitarist Jeremy Davis has dialed himself down some, too. Studio drummer Ilan Rubin performs competently but I wouldn't go to much farther than that. It's a subjective conclusion but I bring you back to "Misery Business" (before) vs. "Now" (after). Maybe it's a bit early to say Paramore has become soft as its evolution has moved along but I haven't been knocked out of my seat the way I had been with "Misery Business" era Paramore. I hope they inject some swagger back into their work because Hayley Williams is a female vocalist who brings with her a firestorm of spunk. What she needs most is a collection of songs that show off that asset to its best effect. Paramore deserves not to fall by the wayside only four albums into its career. Raw ass-kicking is as necessary to rock as an ice cream cone is to butter pecan. Paramore is too talented to just melt away.

Atlas Genius Latest Single Bulging With Danceable Hooks

Well-crafted dance hooks are bursting all over the latest single from South Australia's own Atlas Genius. "If So" is one of those kinds of grooves you can settle into without reservation. Michael Jeffrey's impeccable drum timing makes being a wallflower near impossible. Michael's brother, Keith, the second of the Jeffery brothers in this outfit dishes out a guitar sequence that provides just enough aural stimulation to make people want to stay on their feet long after your run-of-the-mill dance flavor leaves them in search of the exit door in short order. Steven, the third and final Jeffrey brother, drops bass melodies that are seamless. As a total package, "If So" is one smart cookie worth taste after taste. These Aussies have already gotten their foot in the door with "Atlas".Said door will likely be broken off of its hinges with this song. "If So" seems centered on people who don't know who their true selves are so they spend laborious chunks of time trying to fake a persona around the outside world. Keith presents the notion that a lot of the time that act is easily exposed. "When It Was Now" ought to keep its powerful sea legs swimming along feverishly with "If So". Excitable propulsion would appear to be the name of this game. The foursome birthed a song ripe with engaging personality. It's hard to see how any self respecting dance music lovers would push the song out in the cold.

Pissed Jeans Whip Up a Romanticized Entanglement

It's no mean feat being able to turn noise rock into something where one can follow the logic without being caught up in the sonic fog, Allentown, PA's pride and joy Pissed Jeans pull this off with one of the tracks from their "Honeys" album, "Romanticize Me" Bradley Fry's menacing rumble on guitar stares you down. You're waist deep in red alert mode. Vocalist Matt Korvette defends his laziness as being "laid back". He's not shy about turning a negative trait into something that would almost be seen as an asset. Sean McGunness is a ballsy force behind the drum kit. That's impressive given this track doesn't even clock in at 2 and a half minutes long. Randy Huth deepens the sea of organized pandemonium with bass playing that not only asserts his presence but allows Matt's verbal jousting to more often than not hit its intended target. If you want a sound not treading the time and sales-worn path, Pissed Jeans can offer a strangely captivating opening view through the jagged looking glass.

The Foals Dial Up a Snappy Number

If there was an ideal time frame backdrop to The Foals current single "My Number" it would be just as the sun has set over London. The nightlife buzz is just starting to rise from the streets. The controlled pandemonium of downtown life is gaining some momentum. The various social cliques are reconvening to swap stories, talk trash, or whatever else this batch of locals sees fit to do. "My Number" carries through the noise an electricity, a need to see what kind of legally sanctioned trouble can be gotten into. The song's lyrics deal more with independence from the nonstop drone rather than wishing to fit into the faceless blob. Yannis Philippakis defiantly declares that the streets are dragging him down. He's more alive adopting a loner posture, being of the city but not submissively a product. In most big cities there's maze of buyer/seller activities. We the consumers wander through the seductive maze fending off temptation with one hand, taking a deep sniff of the affluence with another. Jimmy Smith fends off the mass consumption spirit with the cat-like readiness of his guitar.On his toes throughout he conveys the coked up state of mind of someone trying to find his way to a somewhere where the universe's parameters won't chain him beyond the scope of human dignity. Edwin Congreave plinks away at the keyboards, a sort of elfin spirit supplying timely jolts of antsy energy for the escape pilgrimage. Jack Bevan thumps the drums with admirable judicious restraint. His beat closely resembles the whip at one's ear, demanding unyielding focus on moving on. Walter Gervers bass is the mellowed out ticking heart for the song. Time is of the essence for the boys. That urgency translates into all purpose with no wasted movements. The "Holy Fire" project stands a fine chance of taking up residence in the wider popular brain pan on the heels of snappy nuggets like this. You'd be wise to give The Foals the chance to gallop their way to mainstream victory.

Coheed and Cambria Deftly Mix Light and Dark Backdrops

There are certain albums, upon reaching their conclusion, that have the ability to make you ask, "What just happened here?" You are so caught up in the secret language that you lose track of time, space, relatives, dinnertime, etc...Coheed and Cambria easily pull this out of body experience off with their new album "The Aftermath: Descension. There's a Jekyll/Hyde dynamic at play. The open cut "Prelethal" is merely an amuse bouche for the supercharged supper which lies ahead. Claudio Sanchez has power to spare in his vocal range. He isn't singing in the name of macho rock bombast. His is a probing gift which only gets better when his bandmates bring the game to higher and higher levels. I'd run out of superlatives quickly if I was to limit my analysis only to "The Hard Sell". Lyrically and musically this is a continuous right to the jaw. Being pummeled by super hard rock never felt so satisfying. I'm in awe of tell it like it is lyrics such as: "Selling out to be in" and: "Not enough cool for everyone. Travis Stever's guitar's got some major league growl. Josh Eppard serves up epic drumming to match the lethal weight of Claudio's words. It's songs like this one that get me to Amazon.com really fast so I can snatch this kind of material up for repeated listening. The impression it leaves on my cranium is one of those "you had to be there" kinds of one for the books experiences. The song is a wicked slap in the face to anyone without the cojones needed to stand up for their core values. "Number City" has madness in the urban downtown sector scrawled all over it. This landscape has Zach Cooper's slick bass to thank for lending it a nastiness that is part and parcel to the hullabaloo of big city dwelling. The bass sounds as good as fresh brewed coffee smells. "Gravity's Union" keeps this album blasting ahead in the Hyde persona. All players have their marksmanship cranked up to eleven. Losing a huge swath of the electricity at the 4:50 mark takes what's already a rock tour-de-force and makes you remind yourself that, yes, this is certainly an out of body trek you've made. Past the midway point of the album Hyde leaves the building and a tranquil Jekyll assumes control. The rest of the tracks aren't quite so conflicted. "Away We Go" is downright sun rays and puppy dogs. The "beautiful undertow" referred to doesn't sound scary at all. In fact regardless of which sex you are you'd definitely have reason to grab Claudio's hand and trust his benevolent instincts. "Iron Fist" the title is far more threatening than "Iron Fist" the finished tune. "God damn" gets uttered a bit too much but, even that, in the context of the whole rip roaring riff ride is nowhere near a liability. They managed to make a swear word sound mellifluous. The great ones know how, I suppose. There's enough flavor to the song that your appetite is appeased. None of the heavy handedness hard rock/heavy metal has a occasionally jocular reputation for ladling on. "Dark Side of Me" is sharp at all the right angles. Claudio's torment meshes neatly with the swirl of theatrics his bandmates conspire to pull off. "2's My Favorite 1" reintroduces the familiar lover's reconfiguration of anatomy, namely the two hearts beating as one. This closing wave of slightly sweetened rock goodness sends "The Aftermath: Descension out on a spangly note. However it may also leave you breathless at how Claudio could summon up the strength to go from heart on the sleeve dripping wounds to "let's race towards the great beyond and see what wonders await". It's just brilliant. I'm a music fanatic for reasons like this. It's time ideally spent every time. Never a heavy sigh to be conveyed. Coheed and Cambria again demonstrate why culling inspiration from The Amory Wars Claudio's ambitious foray into creative writing, yields an embarrassingly rich payoff.