Sometime around the seventh or eighth listen (or alternatively, sometime around your seventh or eighth beer) Joyce Manor’s debut album just clicks. This is curious, considering the simplicity and immediacy of it, but seeing as its pop sensibilities were so well defined, I guess familiarity is a necessity. After all, that album was essentially just one big sing-a-long, and it was all the better for it. The band’s compositional skills created a structurally sound record, and their musicianship provided interesting focal points throughout. However, Joyce Manor’s penchant for a catchy melody and fast-talking one-liners that capture a certain espirit de la jeunesse was ultimately their debut’s defining characteristic.

So it is unfortunate that Joyce Manor’s efforts to mature and write more progressive music neglect this youthful vitality, whilst their efforts to write similarly-veined pop-punk songs largely yield disappointing results. Many songs here seem strangely and frustratingly incomplete. The tunnel of distortion at the end of opener, ‘These Kind of Ice Skates’ hits a wall, ending abruptly and unnaturally. The largely acoustic ‘Drainage’ intrigues with its minimalistic, near-hymnal piano accompaniment, but structurally, it is much too one-dimensional. The more complex songs here hint at progression, but ultimately shy away, ending fruitlessly and infuriatingly.

Amidst such unrealised ambition it is perhaps unsurprising that ‘Of All Things…’s better moments are those where Joyce Manor cling unabashedly to their pop-punk roots. ‘Comfortable Clothes’ is straightforward, twee and confident and enjoyably captures the fast-talking, fast-moving youthfulness that pervaded their self-titled album. Similarly, ‘If I Needed You There’ is succinct rather than piecemeal and retains a swaggering a sense of fun that much of the album is void of. However, generally speaking Joyce Manor’s ability to pen catchy, meaningful pop songs appears to be somewhat diminished on ‘Of All Things…’ and this is a great shame. After all, this is what their music is reliant on; without it, the album feels disappointingly hollow at times.

Sophomore releases are notoriously difficult because of perceived pressure owing to lack of time and confusion concerning a band’s next direction, and it seems Joyce Manor fall victim to both here. By and large, ‘Of All Things…’ feels much too rushed, with most songs feeling hastily arranged and, in some cases, unfinished. The nine songs on display here accumulate a meagre 13-minute running time and very few are afforded time to adequately develop. Therefore, any evolution the band may have aimed for (and at times this certainly feels like it is the case) is ultimately rendered a failure. Still, Joyce Manor clearly have a lot going for them – an ability to write fun, relatable and catchy punk songs, and perhaps, greater ambitions – but unfortunately this potential is largely squandered on ‘Of All Things I Will Soon Grow Tired’.

5/10            Richard Craig

But before Ceremony can field these questions, there is a relatively diverse bill – both punk and hardcore – to be enjoyed. However, owing to this reviewer’s housemate and lift-giver’s work schedule, tonight I only get to experience the hardcore side of proceedings, missing out on No Sir, The Nubs and Old Firm Casuals. We arrive minutes into Cold World’s (6) set as they play to a PACKED crowd. Fortunately, the band plies a strong, sturdy tough-guy hardcore that is intelligent enough to utilise some interesting transitions and avoid obnoxiousness. However, towards the back of the room their sound lacks some of the punch this kind of music relies on, which is disappointing. Still, Cold World put on a decent show and by the time the headliners take to the stage the atmosphere inside 924 Gilman is electric.

With a following as rabid as those gathered inside the legendary punk venue, it could be argued that Ceremony (8) can do no wrong tonight. However, considering some of the harsh reviews of their most recent output and considering that tonight is the release show for that record, it could also be argued that Ceremony’s status hangs rather precariously tonight. Or perhaps it is the ideal time to address their local critics. Whatever the case, it is a bold move when they open with ‘Hysteria’, the opening track from their divisive new album. However, any lingering reservations tonight’s crowd may have are soon dispelled as Ceremony’s opener sounds much more muscular and fist-pumping than on record and offers the perfect jumping-off point for a set that favours older material. After all, it is still tracks such as ‘He – God – Has Favoured Our Undertakings’ and ‘Kersed’ which illicit the most tangible reactions: furious shout-a-longs and despairing, clambering dog-piles.

The vast majority of Ceremony’s set tonight is in this vein, as hit-after-hit of powerviolence-infused hardcore reverberates around 924 Gilman’s walls. Unfortunately, beyond the first four or five rows the sound is dampened somewhat, with only those in close proximity able to truly get the full Ceremony live experience. However, tonight arguably marks a change in fans’ definition of what Ceremony are about. Therefore, it is pleasant to report that their slower, more expansive new tracks fare surprisingly well – indisputably more animated and thoughtfully constructed in a live setting – among old favourites. While Ceremony have experimented before (‘Rohnert Park’) and deviated from their initial powerviolence/hardcore template (‘Violence, Violence’ and ‘Still Nothing Moves You’), this previous experimentation pales in comparison to the changes that are presented on ‘Zoo’. Therefore, that they manage to combine the conflicting sounds in a live setting is admirable, though admittedly it is the older material that is better received. However, though Ceremony continue to move forward (albeit with a retrospectively influenced sonic pallet) it is clearly their earlier material by which many tend to characterise them and for which they are loved. And on nights such as this it is easy to see why they are so loved.

8/10

Photo credit: Matthew Gill

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mattgill/

It is sad how relevant this mini-rant is to Dangers’ show at the Five Points’ Arts House. A gang of 15/16 year-old kids turned up absolutely wasted (far beyond the stage of comprehension, equilibrium or self-control) and jeopardised the entire show. They were thrown out individually several times only to be let back in, and once inside they would occupy the mosh pit where they became an accident waiting to happen as the slightest knock would send them crashing to the floor. Eventually, perhaps inevitably, their inability to take care of themselves and each other led to one guy’s head slamming into the concrete causing him to bleed from both of his ears.

But let’s try to focus on the positives…

Beau Navire’s (8) debut full-length ‘Hours’ might have been lauded by fans and critics alike, but really, it is in the live arena in which they truly shine. Theirs is a dark, dynamic and cathartic set that starts the evening brightly, setting a standard that their successors struggle to match. From the fractured beginning of their album’s eponymously titled opener the quartet unleash audial assaults upon their audience with great aplomb and focus. Most impressive though is how vital their set sounds, with their more melodic passages being afforded ample time to develop (especially during the blossoming ‘Diary of the Sun’) before they accelerate into explosive sections which hit the crowd with breath-taking force. Fierce.

The aforementioned problems caused by sloppily drunk children begin to start during Ghostlimb’s (5) set as the pit opens up and becomes a sea of tangled and flailing limbs. Ahem. Drunken accidents is not the only thing blighting the Los Angeles’ hardcore mob’s set however. Their gruff take on powerviolence and doomy hardcore is frequently rendered an almost indistinguishable mush through the venue’s PA though it still carries sufficient weight. However, Ghostlimb do manage to circumvent such problems in their more groove-orientated moments – especially the bass-led new track they treat us to – where they give their powerful hardcore space to breathe.

Conquest For Death (6) should have similar problems considering the fast pace thrash of their brand of thrashcore, but fortunately they have a sense of fun and vivacity which negates any potential problems. Rather, they play an enjoyable set that leaves band and audience alike with massive grins. This is most refreshing, and it is difficult not to enjoy a band that is clearly having such a great time performing.

By the time Dangers (7) come on, a room that is more used to hosting comparatively demure occasions such as art shows has been turned into a heaving, sweaty embodiment of anticipation, angst, and cathartic anger. From the buzzing crescendo of ‘Power Chord Blues’ to the anthemic closing refrain of ‘We Have More Sense Than Lies’ the band’s, and especially frontman Al Brown’s energy seems boundless. The same can’t quite be said for their audience tonight as, clearly, breathers are required during slower tracks such as the comparatively slow-burning ‘Bottom of the 9th Ward’, but this fails to deter Brown from stalking his audience whilst looking for attendees to offer mic-spots to. Clearly, Brown is very capable of commanding tonight’s crowd. Momentum is also lost during Brown’s occasional long-winded rants, but, on the other hand, these do explain and illuminate the messages behind the tracks of one of modern hardcore’s most outspoken and socially conscious bands. Dangers may forfeit the attention span of some of tonight’s crowd with such acts, but considering they “couldn’t care less” about applause and commendation they probably don’t give a shit.

Richard Craig

While for many (this cynical bastard included) Valentine’s Day represents nothing more than Hallmark Capitalism at its very worst, for some, there is still genuine romance involved. And when the new single from New York native and renowned cynic, Jeff Rosenstock’s project Bomb the Music Industry! was released on the 14^th of February, one might expect it to lean more toward the former. However, it actually offers a charmingly poignant narrative of death and blossoming romance that is both genuinely sweet and startlingly imaginative. The occasional clumsy lyric and awkward phrasing do little to blemish Rosenstock’s captivating tale, and his typically honest and ragged delivery are as endearing as ever. Musically, the sparse composition and structuring of minor guitar chords, palpitating bass drum, and slide guitar is minimalist by BtMI! standards but here it simply could not be more fitting. Crucially, ‘Snow Charges’ serves as further evidence of Rosenstock’s ever-maturing chops as a songwriter, and tellingly it resonates with this bitter, Valentine-less reviewer.

7

NOFX can seemingly get away with anything. Over their thirty year career they have made minimal changes to their template of high-octane punk-rock with smatterings of ska, yet have satisfied a loyal fan base. You could argue that this is because their obstinate conservatism has avoided alienating their fans, but for many bands, such unswerving mulishness would be vilified. They have also got away with telling jokes about the holocaust in Germany, telling jokes about Michael Jackson just days after his death and repeatedly upsetting bands on the Warped Tour. Furthermore, they have a reputation for being a sloppy live band. While this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, many bands would be disparaged for it while NOFX seem to thrive on this reputation and are in fact celebrated for it.

However, occasionally their sloppiness and lack of organisation are more irritating than they are endearing and their set on the first night of their ‘residency’ (two shows) at the Fillmore was most definitely one of those occasions. They began shakily with an impromptu, threadbare rendition of Minor Threat’s ‘Straight Edge’ – impromptu and threadbare because rhythm guitarist Eric Melvin’s instrument was not working initially – and never really seemed to get going. There are several reasons why this might have been the case. Firstly, NOFX’s penchant for talking incessantly between songs (the occurrence of playing two songs in a row is sardonically celebrated by band and audience alike) naturally disrupted any kind of momentum that they build up. Furthermore, the constant disruptions were largely unwelcome as many of their attempts at humour fell awkwardly flat. Secondly, the song choice was disappointing. Though it is true that this is largely down to personal preference the atmosphere fell noticeably flat during newer songs such as ‘The Quitter’, ‘We Called It America’ and ‘Pimps and Hookers’.

However, that being said NOFX ultimately did enough to salvage a disappointing set that often limped rather than galloped. Theirs is a back catalogue extensive enough and good enough to efficiently elevate the mood as they sporadically blasted out better-received tracks such as ‘Eat The Meek’, ‘Herojuana’ and a cover of Rancid’s ‘Radio’. Furthermore, they performed admirably and were much tighter than their reputation for sloppy delivery might lead one to expect. However, it this tightness, as well as the jarring flow of the set and the questionable setlist meant that a sterility, which is antithetical to the punk-rock NOFX peddle, pervaded the set. So, overall, while it was by no means awful or even merely bad, NOFX’s first night at the Fillmore was a frustrating, haphazard and largely uninspiring affair.

5/10

Torrential outpourings of octave chords, a tsunami of drums and the rumbling storm of the bass imbue ‘I.V.’ with a primal sense of power that makes for an exhaustively gripping listen. The onslaught is near-relentless, rarely offering the listener a chance to catch their breath. When a respite is offered, it augments the overall composition, counterpointing such visceral cacophony effectively, before it quickly crescendos to another breath-taking climax. Still, the most striking aspect of ‘I.V.’ is how bold it sounds. Guitar tones are thicker, the claustrophobic atmosphere is more tangible, and everything feels more urgent.

The changes made to the sound Loma Prieta has been diligently perfecting may only be slight, but these slight changes produce maximum effects. Their template of dark octave chords over an intricate rhythm section remains, but on ‘I.V.’ it feels fuller and more despairing than ever. This is partly due to the enhanced production values which render the riffs here heavier, the bass more prominent, and the dark, brooding atmosphere more profound. This is also due to subtly complex structuring which creates several peaks and troughs in the space of a single track (‘Fly By Night’) as well as from one track into another (the sparse, peaceful ‘Untitled’ into the abrupt release of tension in ‘Uniform’). Furthermore, the structuring of individual tracks and the ordering of the album as a whole offers remarkable fluidity. The overall effect of all this is an album that sounds simultaneously ferocious and surprisingly melodic. Moreover, it feels like a goddamn purge.

Loma Prieta have threatened to make this record for a long time– dense, abrasive and cathartic, ‘I.V.’ concisely amasses all that nearly made their previous records so great, and builds upon them with complex structuring and purer timbres. Missteps do occur – the Punch-esque bass-led stomps and the relatively crass, straightforward hardcore punk sections seem somewhat incongruous and superfluous – but these general do little to disrupt the album’s raging flow. Overall, Loma Prieta’s highly anticipated fourth album was worth the wait. Subtly intricate yet imbued with primal tenacity, ‘I.V.’ is a sprawling, technical, and more importantly, highly emotive album. 2012 may only be a few weeks old, but Loma Prieta has already set the bar pretty high.

8/10

Richard Craig

Credit: bloody-disgusting.com

One other name that must always be mentioned in discussions of Bay Area hardcore is Ceremony. The SF quintet has been one of the biggest names in modern hardcore ever since the release of 2006’s ‘Violence, Violence’ and this doesn’t look set to change anytime soon. Sonically and aesthetically indebted to original 1980’s hardcore bands, Ceremony are paradoxically a unique entity in today’s scene, and fans speak reverently of their live shows. So it is a shame that tonight they are disappointing.

However, before Ceremony’s messy headline slot is a bill of eclectic nature, offering not only the crushing hardcore you’d expect, but also an ambient project and a more melody-driven indie band. Washington D.C. quartet Pree (6) is the first of two bands to offer diversity to tonight’s line-up. Playing a somewhat twee, folksy brand of indie-pop they put in a good word for themselves and soothe this reviewer’s raging hangover. The instrumental dexterity of each member is impressive and they frequently, and capably, shift between guitars, bass, drums, xylophones, flutes, melodicas and even a washboard. The result is a warm, rich sonic pallet that is endearing. However, the PA does them little favour, dulling their assumedly sharp sense of melody. Regardless, Pree are still off-handedly charming and offer welcome variety to the bill.

Que Se Muerta (7) are much more at home on tonight’s line-up and waste no time inciting a frenzy of flailing limbs down the front. Despite the time-signature hopping nature of their (post-) hardcore racket they are extremely fluid and it is hard not to be impressed by this. Furthermore, the rough nature of the venue’s PA suits them much better than their predecessors. Their frontman commands the stage, and by extension the floor, roaring out his lyrics. While they are occasionally irritating in their zealous preaching (“if you care more about Kim Kardashian than what it is happening in the streets of San Francisco, Berkeley and Oakland, you should shoot yourself in the fucking face,”*) ultimately they impress with their technicality and fluidity.

On a night when there is so much diversity it is perhaps difficult to be truly surprised, yet the stunned/confused hush that slowly descends on the venue as ambient experimentalists Geldings (7) ease into their set is indicative of the audience’s incredulity. Using theremins, keyboards, computers and hell knows what else to create swirling ambience, the project’s experimentation is admirable even though it is not wholly successful in pulling you in. However, when sporadically accompanied by scattered drumming it is genuinely enthralling and tense. While as a whole it may not be entirely compelling, brief moments of beauty do intermittently rise out of the haze, and this is just about enough to label their set a success.

Whereas Geldings tread a thin line between intriguingly methodical and frustratingly meandering Living Eyes (7), who follow them, get right to the point. Theirs is a short set, no more than twenty minutes long, but that is all they need to get their point across. They simply unleash blast after blast of thrash- and powerviolence-influenced hardcore with deadly precision. Their frontman is a possessed figure, stalking each corner of the stage before occasionally launching himself into his captive audience. Ultimately, Living Eyes are fairly one-dimensional but very effective, and this is exactly what their music requires.

Ceremony (5) are unfortunately beset by technical problems throughout their set tonight. Their acknowledgement of such difficulties frequently creates uncomfortable gaps between songs and so they fail to gather any real momentum. Furthermore, some songs’ potential buoyancy is flattened by a weak PA – ‘The Doldrums’ and a cover off their latest EP, for example. However, Ceremony’s inherently fierce tenacity ensures that such frequent blips are instantly forgotten as they furiously belt out songs such as ‘Kersed’ and ‘He-God-Has Favoured Our Undertakings’ with focussed vehemence. Ultimately though, as a whole their set is patchy, oscillating between genuine intensity and danger, and insipid, uninspiring moments. Toward the end of the set this is reflected by the crowd’s waning attention and energy levels. And so when Ross Farrar introduces the set’s final song, ‘Sick’, by snarling, “I am sick and tired of all of you”, you couldn’t help but feel he is being completely honest.

Richard Craig

*While I’m inclined to agree with him, I feel the situation is much more complex than this. I generally agree with the initial dissatisfaction of the Occupy Movement but find its lack of clear goals tedious. Also, while I don’t care about the Kardashians and similar ‘celebrities’ I certainly wouldn’t encourage anyone to kill themselves. I also wouldn’t hold a grudge against anyone who doesn’t take the Occupy Movement’s obstinate indirection seriously.

This makes complete sense. It means Awake sounds like a natural progression from Eyes & Nines as old-school hardcore and punk influences are more prominent. In short, it sounds like Ceremony’s Rohnert Park only with a more playful sense of aggression. The opening title track, for instance, brims with vitriolic energy; whereas ’Burn Alive’ spits nihilistic lyrics such as “only the good die young, so burn alive”, over unrelenting power chords. All of this is nothing new for Trash Talk, but on Awake it feels more upbeat – fun, even. The influence of producer Joby J. Ford from The Bronx is also evident, especially in the rollicking bluesy riffs and rhythmic stomp of ‘Blind Evolution’. All this considered, one could accuse Trash Talk of diluting their identity, their inexplicably pissed-off take on modern hardcore; favouring a more approachable sound wherein specific influences are more readily identifiable.

In a way, Awake also sounds like Trash Talk confronting critics who accuse them of putting more into their live show than their records. To be honest, this is still a fair critique to make, though for how much longer remains to be seen. This is not because Awake is far more accomplished or fleshed out than the rest of their discography, but because it is difficult to imagine it sparking the same levels of pit carnage which ‘Plagues’ or ‘Walking Disease’ did. Furthermore, the more obvious array of influences on display here give the impression that Awake is more considered than their previous work. However, this does reduces the band’s impulsive sense of misanthropy, and so is not a positive aspect. It is unfortunate, but on Awake Trash Talk’s sense of omni-directional anger seems somewhat muted.

Cynics might argue that it was inevitable that ‘fame’ would cause Trash Talk’s fury to begin to subside and might cause them to craft a more accessible sound – to “sell out”, no matter how arbitrary that insult is. But to be honest, although Awake isn’t as furious as fans have come to expect, and though it does have a more approachable old-school punk aesthetic, it is not a million miles away from what they have released before. Specifically, Awake has much in common with 2010’s Eyes & Nines, while moments such as the slowed, closing refrain of “I don’t care where you’re going, I just care that you’re gone” in ‘Blind Evolution’ recalls ‘Plagues melodrama . Awake is pretty much the same Trash Talk we’ve come to expect, only this time they’re having more fun being angry than ever before.

6/10

Richard Craig

The principle is this: each member gets their own set, like a normal gig, but the others frequently come on stage to help out whenever they see fit. The sets are comprised of solo material from each of the artists (or duo, in the case of Fallon’s ‘Horrible Crowes’), songs from their ‘main’ bands, and a few covers here and there. Also, there’s no waiting between sets. It’s just three and a half hours of brilliant music.

Nominally Dave Hause (of The Loved Ones) was opening, but even after he left the stage, you knew he’d be back soon enough. The pick of the bunch were from his solo album Resolutions; songs like ‘C’mon Kid’ and ‘Time Will Tell’ are engaging enough to be ringing around this venue at the end of the night, let alone the beginning.

Tour creator and orchestrator, and Hot Water Music legend, Chuck Ragan was up next, and his earnest, heartfelt songs betrayed his tough exterior. Always an impressive live performer, tonight was no exception, and new tunes like ‘Meet You in the Middle’ and ‘Nothing Left to Prove’ sounded good enough to sit beside older tracks like ‘The Boat’ and  ‘For Broken Ears’, the latter which featured  Dave Hause’s accompanying vocals.

Dan Andriano’s presence would have attracted a contingent of Alkaline Trio fans to the gig, but his warmth would have won over fans who hadn’t heard his solo material. ‘Hollow Sounds’ and ‘Hurricane Season’ were good, but covers of Alkaline Trio’s ‘Every Thug Needs a Lady’ and ‘Bleeder’ – with Chuck –  were great.

The conversational, amicable and relaxed nature of the gig meant that when the Gaslight Anthem’s Brian Fallon took to the stage it seemed reasonable to shout requests and more. This was perhaps the only aspect of the Revival Tour which didn’t work; when people are shouting stuff at a band, they drown them out with drums and bass. An acoustic guitar doesn’t have the same effect.

It was but a minor quibble though; Horrible Crowes songs like ‘Ladykiller’ and ‘Behold the Hurricane’ started the set in fine fashion, and it was rounded off with Gaslight cuts like ‘1930’, ‘Old White Lincoln and ‘Here’s Lookin’ at You Kid’.

They all reconvened on stage to play a five song encore, including The Loved Ones’ ‘The Bridge, Chuck’s ‘California Burritos’ and Gaslight’s ‘’59 Sound’, before the farewell number, ‘Revival Road’. But with promises of the tour coming back in a year’s time, it’s more of a see you soon than a full blown adieu. We hope.

9/10

Rik Sharma

Nevertheless, this is a very accomplished EP which sees Kidcrash rival their best work. Extremely fluid, and a near celebratory (as opposed to despairing) feel characterise Naps and make it their most enjoyable release, as well as one of their best. The joyous crash that greets the listener on ‘Hibernationstate’ is an encouraging taste of what is to come, and the rapture rarely lets up. Finger-tapped melodies swim in and out of one another, whilst the drums crash and the bass provides a captivating undercurrent. Naps is awash with complex guitar interplay that offers a mesmerising focal point throughout, be it the ecstatic crunch of guitars and drums, and the bass’ gently throbbing staccato in ‘Unknowing The End’, or the more introspective scarcity at the start of ‘Sleep Shock’. However, though the textural variation here is great, the dynamic diversity is relatively ineffectual. Nevertheless, Naps overtly melodic edge and seamless structuring more than compensate for such inadequacies.

The way the EP is pieced together is immaculate and so achieves the impression of effortlessness. This is the case in each individual track here, as well as throughout the course of the EP as a whole. Pauses between each track are minimal and the tracks’ ordering facilitates smooth transitions, as well as an excitingly abrupt one from ‘Sleep Shock’ into the shortest track, ‘Misogamist’. The latter is particularly impressive for its ability to transition between sections of beautifully tumbling melodies and playfully aggressive octave chords flawlessly. The EP as a whole flies by in a fantastically joyous blur and this is largely as a result of its near-unbroken fluidity and dizzying rhythms and riffs.

If Naps really is Kidcrash’s last release, then it is a fitting end to a splendid discography. This is not because it is their best release (it isn’t; Jokes is), nor is it their most ground-breaking release. Naps does, however, perhaps best represent the sound they have strived to achieve over the last few years: the intensity, the textural diversity, the playful aggression, the high standard of musicianship, the ability to craft exciting and mesmerising music. As such, it carries an almost commemorative sense of joie de vivre about it; this is a joy to behold. In this sense Naps is what Kidcrash are (/were?) about. It’s also bloody brilliant.

8/10

Richard Craig