Pyfr leaves the 80's for a musical update ("ISYMIYSMY" W/O)
Written: May 08 '05 (Updated May 08 '05)
Product Rating:
Pros: Tighter than a nun who's...it's good stuff. Catchy, jamming, buffed and polished.
Cons: Showing my age (31), many of these modern pop bands sound the same to me.
The Bottom Line: I see no flaws here, if this is your genre of choice. These guys got pop down pat. Pumped rhythm section, water-tight arrangements, industrial-strength guitarist-vocalist team.
"Elevator" is not a place I would typically find myself. Too crowded.
"Hot Hot Heat" is something you would generally not find me glorifying, living as I do in the state of Texas, a place that can sometimes be compared to the underside of the Devil's nutsack after an hour on the treadmil. Any kind of heat means bad news here, especially if it's preceded by a double shot of "hot".
However, thanks to the kind offices of MattA75 and his suggestively-titled write-off, I was led outside my comfort zone. An unusual set of circumstances turned us into music-swappers and after mutual visits to our respective post offices, he and I both became the proud new owners of CD-R's. I saddled him with a King Crimson album and he clued me in to what the music world of now has to offer.
From what I've been able to piece together using the All Music Guide, these guys (Hot Hot Heat, not the troop of men known as MattA75) started out in the late 90's as a "synth-based combo". Of course, so did every band from Kraftwerk to Skinny Puppy to John Tesh, so that's hardly a useful description. "Elevator" would seem to be about the fourth thing they've released to the world, and you know what? For all my closed-mindedness and hostility towards most bands that have come out since 1990, this album wasn't bad at all. You and your kind would probably love the heat out of it.
I went into this having heard precisely nothing from or about these guys. They're still about as mysterious to me as that tattooed, card-playing motorcycle mama I woke up next to all those years ago, so I'll probably have to resort to formula to get through this review. I just don't possess any cool anecdotes to tie it all together, and my writing style of late is in more of a decline than the American empire.
Let me try to give you some broad idea of who they can be compared to first. Although my impression of them changed as the album progressed, I initially thought that they resembled The Toadies, especially in the vocal department. Then I started to think of a more dynamic-minded Green Day, a less brooding The Wallflowers, a Toad The Wet Sprocket meets The Outfield combo platter, or a male counterpart of No Doubt. The influence of New Wavers like Adam Ant can be felt, as can the guiding hand of pop-rockers both young and flabby, such as Blur, Cheap Trick, and Wings. In other words, a melting pot of mainstream sounds pulled from at least two or three generations.
I knew from the first song, "Running Out Of Time", that I liked the guy's voice (his name, by the way, is Steve Bays). I can't understand a good deal of what he's saying, and since CD-R's don't typically come with lyric sheets (and I'm far too lazy to hunt these lyrics down), I had to remain in the dark when it came to what the man was saying. That's OK though; pop music lyrics rarely take me to that special place, where as a child I'd hide.
Many of the songs are punchy, punk-laced affairs, in which the guitars hug the vocals in a syncopated style like that of the Afghan Whigs. Probably fun as Hell to play live, with all the young harlots crowding the stage. The singer is what one might notice first, but the guitarist reveals himself to be the secret weapon by the end of the disc; his lines are solid, sometimes blues-scratchy, sometimes peppered with acoustic strummage to support the power-pop vocals (as on what I believe to be "Jingle Jangle"). In fact, the guitar parts are probably even more enduring and endearing than the vocals when the album's over. Turn off the lights.
Of course, that doesn't diminish the singer-man's way with a hook one bit. He knows how to use the word "goodnight" to record-selling effect (on, well, "Goodnight Goodnight"), realizes that "la la la"s are still in vogue ("Ladies And Gentleman"), and shifts aimlessly from Robert Smith in the jolliest mood of his life ("You Owe Me An IOU") to the same drippy style employed by a younger David Sylvian ("Island Of The Honest Man"). The only time he really annoyed me was on "Soldier In A Box", where his rapid-fire vocal delivery is only saved from ruining the song by a mystery element in the pre-chorus area. The backing vocals are all pretty strong, which is generally a sign that the band either a) knows what it's doing or 2) hired a producer who knows what he's doing. I don't know enough about them to go either way.
While these guys never really leave the pop format, they do take enough unexpected turns in mood and tonality to keep it interesting. More impressively, they do it in such a way so as not to break the groove, which is a cardinal sin in pop song-writing. Their relentless use of beat, melody, and dynamics left me feeling a little tired by disc's end, though it clocks in at less than 40 minutes. Just too much energy for an old poop like me.
The biggest chance they take on here, in my Epinion, is the side-hike into Latin disco (?) on "Shame On You". Vocal comparisons to Gwen Stefani aside, this is the one that really reminds me of her day job, largely because of the heavily rhythmic style and harmony intervals being used. But 'taint no bad thing. Whatever in the world he means by "shame on you for getting wet, now who will dry your eyes?" is for YOU to tell ME. Preferably in the Comments section, since I don't need guests dropping by this week.
So what's the bottom line about this album? It's fun, energetically poppy (as opposed to boringly poppy, which is how I'd characterize most R&B), driving, and essentially sounds like New Wave in a modern suit ("Middle of Nowhere" reminds me for unexplainable reasons of Modern English's "I'll Melt With You"). The use of keys, piano, and possibly even a harpsichord on one song gives the album a touch of style, though guitar and vocals are the real kings here. Every damn song sounds like a single, and since it was obviously made in the name of fun, one can overlook the fact that the album tends to bleed together. There were so many hooks herein that I'm hard-pressed to remember one.
If you like the current trend towards pop music (which has apparently reached its peak with guys like Franz Ferdinand and The Killers), then this disc's for you. I'll always gravitate to stuff that's more abrasive, obscure, and older, but it was nice to hear what's going on amongst the other half (actually, it would be more like "the other 98%"). I can't see myself running out the door to pick up the Hot Hot Heat catalogue, but I can also tell you that my CD-R of "Elevator" won't be going anywhere.
After all, one must have a back-up plan if the guests are failing to appreciate the experimental scourge-tones of Throbbing Gristle.
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