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.

Ghost Scares Up Keenly Melodic Doom Metal

Cards on the table upfront. Swedish doom metal act Ghost combines what hardcore metal maniacs dig most about the genre. The bridge gifts you with a fire and brimstone guitar solo. The guitar passages suggest something soulless crafted them. Not to mention some sleep with the lights on vocals. On the table right now I submit for your approval "From The Pinnacle To The Pit". It's marvelous how whenever henchman Papa Emeritus III (I kid you not. That's his handle.) utters the song title his partner in poetry, Alpha formerly Fire (Again I'm not making anything up) is at his side belting out outstanding riffs that make you want to bone up on the devil worship you've let slide by of late. If you listen to bassist Water (What did I say about me not fabricating the truth?) you can hear how his bass, as chord progressions go, follows in tandem with Papa's spooky vocals. I don't mean to imply you'll wet your pants following along to these guys and their twisted playbook but it's eerie how the sounds are so maniacally in sync. Gravediggers everywhere will eat this up. But, if you don't list this occupation on your call sheet you will still be rewarded for your cosmic energy with a track blessed with cold eyes that bear into places you didn't even know could be violated. Why the estate of Maurice White doesn't sue for millions in copyright damages remains a mystery. I mean really...some dude named Earth plays drums. Wind plays keyboards. Only Fire appears to have gotten wise to the setup and became known as Alpha. Off the bat Ghost seeks to intimidate in the most devilish manners possible. Peruse the opening lyrics and you'll sense Ghost's collective elevator doesn't go up to the top floor. Delusions of grandeur are one thing but "You have the power. You wear the crown from the pinnacle to the pit." Man's splash down from acme to nadir...complete with engrossing rhythm section. "It's a long way down." Anybody but me get chills on the back of the neck? Added poetry takes the form of "You wield the scepter. You wear the gown from the pinnacle to the pit." Give the words room to pollinate in your system. After they've gotten their chance you'll not be able to escape the nightmare factory so easily. Musicianship maintains a high quality level here. Somewhere onetime MTV Headbangers Ball host Riki Rachtman has to be getting teary-eyed. He'd kill for this kind of cut to play. Back to the task at hand. "From The Pinnacle To The Pit" also has an unsettling choir sequence. What macabre joy. Bass execution smacks you upside the head at the outset leaving behind no survivors. Papa Emeritus possesses bloodcurdling command of his lower octave range. He's not to be messed with. At the forty second mark the entire Ghost army kicks into high gear. The drumming bores into your marrow. The guitars merge into a freaky fusion. Certainly a feast for the ears. If you want my two cents these guys and Slipknot should go bowling together. They have a trip to the far side of crazy in common. It serves them nicely. The bridge alluded to earlier kicks into high gear at the two minute mark and how monstrous the aftershock is. "From The Pinnacle To The Pit" constitutes all that's righteous about metal. It's a mere taste drawn from its parent album "Meliora" but having your bib strapped on snug would be sage advice. Here's a pinnacle you'd be loathe to climb down from.

Declan McKenna Explores The Wilds of Brazil To Convincing Effect

17 year-old United Kingdom native Declan McKenna knows his way around a steady rhythm...or so it would appear. His all intents and purposes hello salvo to the world of music, "Brazil" goes around one maypole and, here's the best part, it doesn't grow old with repeated listening. Neither does Declan's delivery, heated enough to get your attention, but suave enough to remind you this is no pint sized assassin on the menu but, rather a savvy teen with an advanced sense of direction, both in melody and career. It can't hurt that he won the Glastonbury Festival's Emerging Talent Competition in 2015. How nice for him that he has room to grow in his professional development. He plays all his instruments, in this case guitar and keyboards. He has a heart-wrenching squeal to his voice which makes you want to wrap your arms around him and say "Easy there bud, everything will turn out fine, just you wait." It was a smart opening move leading with the keyboard. Makes you think Declan's another wide eyed pop star wannabe and not much else. Trust me he's quite the cosmopolitan as the video demonstrates clearly. Earnest approach doesn't go out of style and thanks to Declan long may it not. Call it exuberance but much can be said for having the moxie needed to let one's freak flag fly. Yeah, you could argue that the chords don't match the heft on the lyric sheet. Prime focus on Brazilian soccer, the beautiful game, according to McKenna. He has a way with characterization too, as you can tell from this cat who lives down a river with 6 cars and a grizzly bear. Strange company but if it works then what the heck. The ultimate sentiment has to strike a chord with folk singers in training everywhere..."Well, he talks like an angel but he looks like me." Wow. That right there is poetry of the highest order. It's nifty to watch artists in the growing up phase of their respective careers. Let the nostalgia buzz begin. That squeak of his charms no end. Brazil pretty much owns the soccer landscape so any song directed that way is bound to bring up big business and acknowledgement for the sport. Declan's passion for the words he speaks are only going to get harder to ignore as his material and his body both mature. "Brazil" has the potential to help Declan become a worldwide smash.

No!!! Not Meghan Trainor Playing Sex Kitten!!

If you need proof how much the record industry can corrupt an aspiring artist's sense of dignity in zero flat may I present Meghan Trainor. Her new album's title is "Thank You". Based on the bump and grind gutter pandering of the first single "No" it should have been called "I'll Pass". Oh goody, another video featuring a female singer displaying her sizable sexuality while claiming not to want to give the male population any undue encouragement. Can you say "mixed message" boys and girls? Good. I knew you could. I'd like to make one thing abundantly clear. Despite the fact that you'll watch Meghan in this video and ask yourself "What happened to that 'All About That Bass' chick?" the song itself has Miley Cyrus throwaway written all over it. Granted, Ms. Cyrus was a bit too busy making us never think about a wrecking ball in a healthy way ever again but still Miley knows bad girl. Hell, she's been attempting to push that envelope ever she left her Hannah Montana days squarely in the rear view. The only thing Meghan and Miley should ever have in common is the same first letter in their names. So...I repeat. You WILL dance to this on some level even if your rational brain reminds you you've been sold familiar song and dances a zillion times. But, by the same New York subway token, "No", as entertainment diversions go, has all of the lasting appeal of a prostitute you snagged on a seedy street corner in Anytown USA. You get nasty, drop her off, and then move on to conquest #2. Nothing resembling emotional substance. Just some random boink me side project that served the cheap purpose it was designed to serve. Lucky you if you go out for that kind of entertainment but, many of us in the listening audience prefer smokin' souffle to cheap tart. I could easily believe the brass over at Epic Records sitting down with her for a serious meeting regarding her career direction. Perhaps the suits came right out and said, "Meghan, babe, loved "All About That Bass". How divinely retro. I'm getting flashbacks of my Grandma's apple pies right out of the oven. But you see the problem with that is we're in the 21st century now. We need for you to goose sales by giving us some of that Britney Spears sex toy thing. Also, we need for you to convince the 18 year-old male audience that yes really means no. Wear some provocative German inspired lederhosen and roll around on the floor with some other slu...we mean distinguished female team players. Our industry is suffering, love. We need you to prostitute yourself for the greater good. Well deep pocket dudes, consider this mission accomplished. Totally derivative hard-on lowest common denominator excrement. Frankly, that's an insult to the excrement producing community. The lyrics save no part of this sinking ship. That whole "I don't wanna give you my name and number" bit has already been covered successfully by TLC. What's the point in putting that message in the mouth of a completely different pop starlet? The answer? Bling and bling alone. The word "No" fits the takeaway perfectly. No, you won't get those four minutes of your life back. No, apologizing for being dumb enough to fall for this claptrap won't help your guilty conscience. No, Meghan hasn't taken a major career step forward. If anything "No" threatens to push Ms. Trainor into the background of the music business radar. One last example of accentuating the negative before I sign off. No, the background is no place for a 22 year-old woman lusting after career longevity. "No" represents a music lover's chance to say yes to looking out for broader cultural horizons.

Halestorm Releases Mayhem In Spades

What do you do if you're Halestorm lead singer Lzzy Hale if you've grown weary of empowerment yarns like "I Am The Fire". You simply unleash your inner riot girl for a little scream fest called "Mayhem" Not a single thing artsy fartsy about this track. You shouldn't bother raising an eyebrow to the technical wizardry because that doesn't even come close to describing the purpose of "Mayhem". Lzzy, brother Arejay, and co-conspirators Joe Hottinger and Josh Smith simply let both barrels drain ammunition and see where that takes them. "Mayhem" revels in its title. Lzzy shrieks like someone stuck a hot tuning fork through her scalp. It gets more demonic in scope as it goes along. Joe doesn't understand boundaries. He plays the guitar as if he was given ample room to run, full on license to thrill. That my friends is what makes the electric guitar such a gratifying conduit for aggression and moxie. Drummer Arejay makes each drum lick matter for something. He gets to that level of consciousness where ego takes powder. He knows his own strength and doesn't mind hammering the point home to us. And bassist John Smith helps make "Mayhem" the magnificently psychotic package that it is. If MTV were ever to relaunch Headbangers Ball (When pigs fly, right?) "Mayhem" would likely receive a heart-stopping level of airplay. That's because it appeals to both metal fan boys and girls. The video doesn't need fancy tricks to get its message across. Lzzy's someone you don't want mad at you. The expressions she hits upon throughout the video should have driven that point home to you loud and clear. The lyrics place Lzzy in an extremely frustrated place. Already she's grown bored with the world spinning around her. Turn to the chorus if you want to escape that disappointingly jaded feeling yourself. How true is the sentiment "A little mayhem never hurt anyone". Well...I wouldn't go so far as to commit arson but knocking back a few brews and beating your chest would serve a real cathartic purpose. Lzzy likely joins a chorus of voices bored with the status quo and the lack of excitement it foists upon the citizenry. Chaos, fear, and pandemonium are sensations she'd like to see tossed onto her dance card. The more the walls shake, the more she likes it. Humdrum doesn't appeal to too many people and Lzzy's out to bust up the lethargy. The tempo gets right to breakneck pace with evil aplomb. Trying to catch up to Lzzy and her mates is a cardio workout in and of itself. Not that you won't be rewarded by it backwards and forwards. Lzzy deserves a pat on the back for "I Am The Fire", That allowed modern woman to roar and remind the guys they have just as much potential. However, maybe Kelly Clarkson ought to be left carrying that torch. Lzzy is in her element spewing out primal rage. "Mayhem" creates what the title promises and that's saying plenty. "Mayhem" is one rough edged you'll be proud to let your quivering eardrums clean up after.

Sixx A.M. Rises To The Challenge Of Crafting a Venomous Rock Ball Buster

Spring break may be in the books but that doesn't mean the fun has to end. Enter Motley Crue bassist Nikki Sixx's side project, the aptly titled Sixx A.M. Its newest effort "Rise" sums up what all the fuss is about as it pertains to anthem tinged hard rock. James Michael leads this pack and right up front his vocals mean serious business. He sounds the call to action, hoping and possibly praying his disciples are out there waiting to pick up the slack. Then we spin around to the guitar work at the bridge. It'll take awhile to fully absorb how unapologetic the theatrics are. If you've ever experienced, or for that matter hope to experience being dragged behind runaway water skis, this guitar solo ought to hold your appetite at bay until you can arrange for the real thing. To add to that Sixx A.M. comes before us with some pretty generous all over the map chord progressions. Stasis doesn't serve the purpose for these guys. Go big or go home as it's been said. In order to incite revolution you need to have someone act as a mouthpiece who's convincing in leading the charge. Paul fills that role in spectacular fashion. The message is one we all could stand to gain a reminder of, namely get yourselves together and live your lives. Dustin Steinke drills into the drums as if he had a personal grudge to settle with them. Everybody fully commits to the task at hand and it shows. I'm encouraged to unleash my inner ass kicker strictly based on the fact that Sixx A.M. makes giddy rebellion sound so provocative and worth the civil disobedience charges. In the video you see gruesome images of what could happen to you if you don't stand your ground. Nikki's association with standing up to a devil too big for his horns definitely falls in line with his playbook. If you haven't hit upon your finest hour the next one could be right around the corner. Empowerment seems to be slipping out of the collective cultural grasp lately. Sixx A.M. contributes with a healthy jolt of adrenaline. What impresses me most is how the boys keep the punch going from first note to last. Anyone who remembers Sixx from the "Girls, Girls, Girls" days knows Nikki looks at home on a vehicle that roars like a big, bad Harley Davidson. Leadership's one of those concepts modern America looks hard pressed to serve up. Maybe Nikki should suggest "Rise" be a campaign song. I'm guessing the Republicans won't go for it though. "Rise" comes to us from the upcoming "Prayers For The Damned". "Rise" hits the notes that are potent enough to roust anyone from social somnambulism.

The Wombats Try To Make You Smile...And Succeed Beautifully

Nothing to despise about The Wombats "Give It a Try". This Liverpool bunch goes heavy on cute in sound and lyric from the very start. Vocalist Matthew Murphy merits the lion's share of the credit for making the song an adorable cheek pinch. His way around keyboards knows no limits. High energy through and through. You want to dive right into the swimming pool he's frolicking in. Why not I say. Time spent with him cavorting is worth any amount of trouble. Ah yes, but there's plenty more to our tale than a pretty face behind a mike stand. Dan Haggis cuts lose with some of the most unburdened drum playing you're likely to hear all year. You sense he's laid the entire hand out on the table. He'll come along for the entire ride or jettison the experience completely. As for the lyrics, levity rules the day. Smiles are mandatory. With such a springy beat to prance across you'll gladly succumb. The third cog in the delightful machine comes in the form of Norwegian born Tord Overland Knudsen. None too shabby on bass. Anyway, back to the lyric sheet. Catch these frothy sentiments. For openers we get, "I know that I like to let excess succeed, but I just need you in that fur coat." Subtlety would not appear to be a factor in any mode whatsoever. Kudos for his determination in the face of a harsh London that would swallow the soul of a lesser creature. The second stanza ratchets up the hilarity factor by leaps and bounds. "We could be gigantic, everything I need. Vicodin on Sunday nights." Better living through chemistry. Always something to consider when you're flat out of options. Some of the personal ablution material gets me guffawing too. Allow me to explain. "I'm shaving with your toothpaste and trying to vacuum from the ceiling." I guarantee that nowhere in your lifetime will you ever hear quite the affable words as are printed here. It is worth considering that there's certainly an off the rocker mental health edge to shaving with toothpaste. Well duh, right? Nevertheless the minty fresh smell on his face cannot be ignored. Certainly beats the standard shaving cream whiff. Moving on I tell you that "Give It a Try" gets drunk on its own lunacy. The inmates in this asylum gambol about with little to no regard for who knows about how silly they are acting. I claim a band with jocularity doesn't go out of style no matter what decade we're winding our way through. The Wombats have been an active outfit since 2003. The sort of whimsy displayed in "Give It a Try" shares the same DNA as the likes of No Doubt's "Running" from that outfit's infectious "Rock Steady" outing. Spontaneity carries the day in both cases. In the former's instance coloring outside the lines spells a heady romp the general public can really take to its collective heart. Afford yourself the opportunity to bask in the trip happy glow of the accompanying lyric video. It'll take the edge off of whatever life drama you're currently battling. It's got daffy imagery sure to light your eyes up and put a dopey grin on your face. Given the current world tumult, isn't this type of creation a pleasant antidote for us as a collective? "Give It a Try" gives us its best. The Wombats have earned the right to attempt a victory lap.