VINYL REVIEWS
Start a Real Record Collection
By Jake Corbin

Change is inevitable; you can’t stop it. Nothing stays the same for too long—just look at the way you listen to music. Gone are the days of cruising to the record store on Tuesdays to check out the new releases. Now it’s all bytes and bit torrents.

“You going to the record store to pick up the new NOFX?”

“Nope, but I’ve got my computer on the case.”

All it takes is a quick search, a few clicks of the mouse and some patience while the tracks download. BOOM. New album.

There’s one problem, though: You’re missing out.

Downloading only gives you a small part of the package. Where are the lyric sheets and the album art? That’s all part of the connection between the musician and listener. Staring at the song titles that transferred into your iTunes playlist doesn’t quite cut it.

All is not lost, though. In the sea of ones and zeros, there’s one format that refuses to sink—vinyl records. From color LPs to special edition gatefolds, nothing beats discovering a good slab of wax (not to mention it sounds better; really, Google it).

Change is inevitable, but nobody ever said you couldn’t revert back to what works best. Do yourself a favor and start a real record collection.

Benard/Worn in Red
Split 7”
Straight out of the A-T-L, Benard kick into full-gear from the outset of this seven-inch. With a Fugazi-like juxtaposition of jumbled drums and twangy guitar blasts, the fivesome have created a sound that borderlines on chaotic but never loses its groove; it’s the type of music that would perfectly soundtrack the demolition of a building. And with lyrics like “What kind of man is this? That he doesn’t even move through air displacement,” there are hints of nerd rock like you’ve never heard it before. It should also be noted that the post-punker’s second track on the album, “A Prostitute That Caters Exclusively to Clowns,” should be nominated for the best song title of the year.

On the b-side, Worn in Red are screamcore to the max. There are certain types of music that compliment such a throaty bellow (i.e. hardcore punk), but this just isn’t that style of music. At certain points during the Virginia quartet’s only track (“Vital Joys”), the band slows down to an almost stoner rock-like pace. There are some high points in the song, though, especially during the breakdown—the drums syncopate and get funky, a guitar riffs while another stutters and the bass rhythmically thumps alongside all three. Too bad the vocals kick back in.

The bands on this split have potential but still need work. The cool cover art by Brendan Murphy, however, is definitely top notch.
[myspace.com/benardmusic]
[myspace.com/worninred]
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My Heart to Joy at the Same Tone
Virgin Sails 7”
Before you can drop the needle on this three-song E.P., the album’s black and white photography jumps out, screaming for a prolonged look. The stillness of the deserted power lines on the cover is in stark contrast to the tangled mess of feet in the midst of a mosh pit on the backside; no doubt a snapshot of the intensity surrounding the group’s live shows.

Perhaps it’s coincidence, but the music on Virgin Sails seems to hold similar qualities to the yin and the yang effect of the record art. While the band holds down a sturdy, straightforward sound much like the hefty power lines, the vocals come screaming over the top, smashing the listener in the face—its no wonder the kids are swept up into such an energetic panic.

Mosh pit-inducing or not, however, the vocals are actually the weakest part of the group. “All of Life is Coming Home” is the best song on the album—full of metaphoric lyrics and a pretty melody—but the worst vocally. The lead singer, actually more of a lead screamer, tries to mellow out and sing on the track but it doesn’t work. If someone else in the band has a softer singing voice to compliment the scratchy yell (back to the yin and the yang thing again), then this band just might have hope for it yet.
[myspace.com/myhearttojoyatthesametone]
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My So Called Life/Ryan Mills
Koi Splits 7” Series #4
Named after the most emo television show ever, My So Called Life bring radio-friendly rock to the fourth installment of the Koi Records split series. Bouncy and upbeat, the group’s sound is standard fare—nothing special but nothing to complain about either. Although the lead singer sounds like he could front a Kansas cover band (this group would kill with a “Dust in the Wind” cover), a touch of screaming background vocals at the end help keep this four-man band sounding contemporary. Your little sister has probably already downloaded their album.

On the flipside, Ryan Mills’ track opens with only an acoustic guitar, providing a stripped down, Oasis-like sound. Once his gruff vocals kick in—which happens rather quickly—any comparison between the two becomes laughable. Lyrically, Mills’ storytelling style is decent, but the line about a razorblade leaving “sores in your mouth” leaves me with a sour taste in mine. Hearing someone sing about mouth sores, in any capacity, just doesn’t seem right.

Both tracks seem like they would have been perfect on “The O.C.” soundtrack; too bad for both bands the show is long gone. Still, I wouldn’t be surprised if you heard from either of the two on a radio program in the near future. And hey, as long as the CW is around, maybe there’s still hope for being featured on some quality teen programming.
[Koi, koirecords.com]
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The Live Ones
S/T 7”
In the beginning, punk rock was relatively simple: play three chords and have something to say. I’m not sure if the members of the Live Ones have anything too important to get off their chest, but they’ve definitely figured out how to play those three-chord riffs. A bit of a throwback in that respect, this threesome from (where else?) New York has a definite punk-meets-garage rock sound—the same one that permeated from their hometown in the late ‘70s. I only hope the band got to play CBGB’s before it closed.

With the A-side of their self-titled seven-inch, “Dirtweed” displays what the trio does best: riff-heavy guitar work combined with the animalistic thump of the drums. Did I detect some cowbell, too? It’s officially a party now. The band’s only downfall is displayed when the vocals kick in; they just aren’t very good. That’s the beauty of rock ‘n’ roll, though—just because you can’t sing doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get out there and do it.

With the B-side (“Don’t Look Down”), however, the Live Ones’ vocal shortcomings are a bit harder to swallow. Whereas “Dirtweed” is full of chugging guitar riffs and fast-paced drumming, “Don’t Look Down” is a much slower tempo, bringing drummer/vocalist Mike Czekaj’s vocals to the forefront of the song. Not a good idea. The energy a band puts out—particularly in a live setting—can often times make up for a shabby vocal performance, but with headphones on alone in your bedroom, not so much.
[myspace.com/theliveones]
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Mean Streets
That Day 7”
First things first—Mean Streets needs new art direction. The album cover looks like something out of the ‘80s; a thermal camera-like effect on the photograph and horrible fonts make it look like a really bad gangsta-rap album from the early days. The name “Mean Streets” only makes it worse.

Aesthetics, fortunately, are not the most important aspect when defining a band; what really matters is the music.

Mean Streets may have formed in the spring of 2006, but the foursome sound like they are living in the ‘90s. That’s not meant as a dig towards the band; it’s just the catchy guitar riffs and bouncy bass lines are reminiscent of the pop-punk sound that came out of the last decade. The seven-inch’s title track is a perfect example. “That Day” features a bouncing Matt Freeman-esque bass line, making the track pop, while dirty guitar riffs blend nicely with the snotty sound of the vocals. All in all, it sounds like a decent punk song.

Sound, however, is not the mark of a true punk band; it really comes down to the lyrics. Although I’ve definitely heard worse, Mean Streets’ come off a little cheesy. In the aforementioned “That Day,” the band sings, “You won’t forget that day / that you almost left this place / now you and all your friends / won’t be the same.” Add lines like, “The lovely crash, of a jaded end / I won’t forget you, I won’t forget my friends” and the song starts to sound a bit too dramatic. Maybe I’m being harsh, but the more I listen to this track the more it seems like a perfect fit for a Lifetime original movie soundtrack.

Either way, with a little work, Mean Streets might end up producing some worthwhile material for those who want to stroll down punk rock’s pop past. I’m just not sure this record is it.
[myspace.com/meanstreetspa]
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