HOLMES – Covers

Although he may already be familiar to some as producer Jazzelicious (aka The Tao of Groove), multi-instrumentalist Roy Shakked also records retro-influenced pop albums under the moniker of Holmes.  His earlier works in this field have gained comparisons to Ben Folds and Beck.  Since Holmes was already working on new self-penned material in 2011, this third record – made up of cover tunes – is essentially a stop-gap.  That’s not to say it’s in any way inferior; across thirteen tracks, Holmes painstakingly recreates some very familiar artists work, often in his own image and while it was recorded in a home studio on a small budget, it still sounds like an expensive, very professional recording.

Fancy hearing Ice Cube’s ‘It Was a Good Day’ in the style of Ben Folds? That’s precisely how Holmes chooses to make his entrance on this release!  The general pace is similar to that of Ice Cube’s original track, but in place of the big beats Holmes strikes some crystal clear piano chords.  Naturally, Ice Cube’s spoken delivery is dumped in favour of a vastly superior sung vocal.  The combination of piano, strong vocal and funky basslines makes a great opening number.  As with Folds’s own similar version of Dr Dre’s ‘Bitches Ain’t Shit’, it has to be said the bad language really greats within such perfect power pop confines – but there’s no getting around that if these things are to be done properly.  A low-key rendition of INXS’ ‘Need You Tonight’ feels unsettling at first, with Holmes choosing a piano style which sounds as if it’s been lifted from a John Carpenter horror movie, but the addition of accordion and bass soon gives things a distinctly European flavour.  By the end of the first chorus, it’s quickly obvious this isn’t about to break into anything grander.  How Holmes decided the song would fall so easily into such cinematic spaciousness shows great imagination and foresight: while he should get kudos for thinking way outside the box, the jury is out as to whether it works or not.  It’s certainly the polar opposite to Powerman 5000’s hugely straight-ahead cover of ‘Devil Inside’.

It would have been too predictable for Holmes to take ‘Why Didn’t You Call Me’ by Macy Gray and base it around a funky electric piano/clavichord arrangement a la Stevie Wonder.  That’s probably why he’s decided it would work even better as a raucous glam-rock stomper!  Combining fuzzy guitars with a nice live sound in the rhythm department really gives this track an edge without ever sacrificing melody.  Buried somewhere in the mix there’s also a stabbing keyboard which is augmented by handclaps; in all, it’s a fantastic track – a great and very inventive take on one of Gray’s best numbers. The electric piano that was so expected on the Macy Gray number makes a belated appearance throughout ‘Don’t Be Cruel’.  This maudlin, yet still brilliant, run-through of Elvis Presley’s 1956 track couldn’t be farther from The King’s recording if it tried.  In a slowed down, thoughtful rendition, it actually owes far more to the works of Electric Light Orchestra and Wings as it does the early days of rock ‘n’ roll.  At a slow pace, it really hammers home the sentiment behind the lyric.  This kind of reimaging works in a similar fashion to Howie Day’s cover of The Beatles’ ‘Help’ and comes far better suited to the lyrical content.  Move over Cheap Trick – your cover isn’t really needed any more.  Holmes takes a similarly perverse approach to the Genesis hit ‘That’s All’, where he throws away the distinctive piano riff and replaces it with acoustic guitars.  Essentially a lightweight hoedown, it works well in this format, particularly with a twanging upright bass with banjos and dobros flesh out the sound.  Even without its overly familiar piano part, this will be just as instantly recognisable to Genesis fans due to Holmes’s insistence on retaining all of the original song’s vocal melodies.

The second hit by synth-pop duo Yazoo (Yaz in the US) is reworked here as a bouncy piece of pop which melds a strong bassline with an acoustic guitar part which sits somewhere between a latin shuffle and cocktail lounge music.  A mid section with a jazzy piano interlude pushes the envelope of invention even father, but perhaps the tracks biggest quirk comes from Holmes taking the original synth line and reworking it in to a counter-vocal.  This is something which works just brilliantly.  There are a few 80s synths scattered around the place – complete with a tone befitting a Vince Clarke composition – but they don’t necessary turn up where expected!   With some of the off-beat elements at the centre of most of these covers, you’d expect Holmes to have an absolute field day with a Queen number, and yet on his recording of ‘Bicycle Race’, he plays things as straight as possible – perhaps just as Jellyfish would have done, had they ever thought to record it.  The multi-layered vocals are pleasing; in fact, although it’ll never replace the Queen original in your affections, the whole arrangement is tight.  The only major change comes during the fast section, where Holmes replaces Brian May’s chorus pedals with some jarring seventies keyboards.  On the whole, this cover shows a great respect and an even stronger love for one of the world’s greatest bands – more respect than Brian May and Roger Taylor have given the Queen name since Freddie Mercury’s untimely departure…

A brave version of Electric Light Orchestra’s ‘Mr Blue Sky’ takes what was always essentially a piece of fun (but somewhat self-indulgent) seventies pop and twists it into an a cappella workout.  The adventurous approach of taking about a dozen different vocals and then going crazy with them in the studio really suits Holmes.  Despite dispensing with the orchestrated elements and various layers of the Jeff Lynne original, against the odds, this version still features nearly every nuance of the main part of the familiar ELO number.  It sounds as if it took a long time to piece together, but it was definitely worth the effort.  It mightn’t be as wondrously off-the-wall as Petra Haden’s similar re-working of the whole of The Who’s ‘Sell Out’ LP, but the love for this track really comes through.

Covers albums either work or they don’t, but this one certainly falls into the first category.  While 2011 saw more than enough covers albums hit the market, this one by Holmes is not to be missed.  Throughout, Holmes shows a strong sense of musical vision and puts his studio know-how to fantastic use.  Classy pop arrangements, other people’s material and a bit of imagination have rarely sounded so good.

November 2011

ZANE STAFFORD – Lighting Up The Black

Zane Stafford is a musician from Stockton, California. His general sound is very much acoustic based, but instead of taking the sappy confessional route, he strives for something more concerned with moods and atmospheres. Across the ten songs featured on 2011 his release, his work combines airy vocals with a slight indie/emo edge and, naturally, this produces varying results.

With down-tuned sounding chords and a slightly alternative vibe, ‘Jericho’ suggests immediately that this disc isn’t just another run-of-the-mill piece of acoustic sappiness. Stafford’s chosen chord pattern is from the nineties school of song writing, but he combines the alternative feelings with ringing, clearer chords and a soft, natural vocal leading to something which makes for a strong opener. By the time the track reaches a climax, he’s also backed by organ and synth strings which both help give things a fuller sound. ‘The Signal’ follows with a rhythmic number, showcasing the more straight ahead elements of Zane’s sound. The song writing is solid once again, with Stafford breaking up the wordiness of the verses with a somewhat punctuating cry of “hallelujah!” The track also introduces a few electric guitars, which like most other elements on this album are concerned with mood rather than any kind of showiness. While these songs are enjoyable, there are others featured on ‘Lighting Up The Black’ which are a much better showcase for his talents.

‘Down With The Ship’ is such a number, and even though the core of the song remains with the previous acoustic vibes (and this time with a few great harmonics thrown into the intro), the performance is far stronger. The acoustic elements are underpinned by a far more effective use of echoing electric reverb, while Stafford’s unobtrusive voice stays in the realms of wistful. With a light influence from Iron & Wine, this recording has the scope of a movie soundtrack, and as such, brings a whole extra dimension to his breathy style. Similarly moody is the almost purely acoustic ‘Into The Black’. It’s a number which makes the best usage of the gently picked guitar, but it’s during the second half where the arrangement really comes alive, as the acoustic sounds get swamped by echoing electric guitars and a chiming piano chord. Meanwhile, Zane’s vocal holds its own, eventually meshing with backing voices to create a climax.

The use of relatively simple rhythmic chords ensures ‘Walls’ has potential, especially once those acoustic lines are juxtaposed with a few electric jangles. While the vocal isn’t quite as assured as that of ‘Down With The Ship’, when Stafford’s lead voice is coupled with a selection of backing voices (in a busier arrangement than those heard during ‘Into The Black’), it becomes one of his fullest sounding numbers. The return of a hallelujah refrain creates somewhat of a low point, since an idea can be overused; but on the whole, ‘Walls’ still a very agreeable number. ‘The End’ is a little more straight ahead acoustic alt-pop than some of the previous outings, with a tiny hint something Smashing Pumpkins would have toyed with back in the mid 90s. Since over the shimmering chords Stafford sings of “a glass for pouring poison in, if I’m the beginning then she will be the end”, maybe it’s the slightly darker lyrical content that occasionally makes this reminiscent of something from the bands of that period… Without too much analysis, though, this closing number stands alongside ‘Down With The Ship’ and ‘Into The Black’ as reason enough to listen to this album.

On the negative side, it could be said that Stafford’s arrangements feels somewhat one-paced when the album is listened to as a whole but, when listened to individually, each of the album’s ten songs comes with enough depth of feeling for them to stand up individually. If you find some connection with Zane Stafford’s music and occasionally dark and questioning song writing, it’s likely you’ll find this an enjoyable listen, though the moody atmospheres of ‘Lighting Up The Black’ may not appeal to everyone.

August 2011

LOU REED & METALLICA – Lulu

When it was first announced that legendary metal band Metallica were to collaborate with the even more legendary Lou Reed on a studio project, eyebrows were raised.  Aside from both having a fairly uncompromising approach to music, neither artist had much in common: Reed, a consummate story-teller, has recorded a body of works which rely on the wordiness and on the small details, while Metallica occupy the other end of the scale, often being about the big and brash.  And yet, these strange bed-fellows embarked on a shared musical journey which, if Lou Reed is to be believed, would effectively end all musical journeys.  In a pre-release interview – amid a great amount of hype – Reed claimed the project spawned the best music he’d ever recorded. He went a step farther, suggesting ‘Lulu’ – the Loutallica album – was “maybe the best thing done by anyone, ever”.

Listening to the end product, let us assume this earlier remark was a great example of Reed’s dry wit.  ‘Lulu’, obviously, is not the best album in the world, set to eclipse every other work in history – how could it be?  In a few glimpses of (usually ragged) glory, however, this combination of world-class metal band and groundbreaking songwriter prove a force to be reckoned with.  Aside from those flashes of greatness, ‘Lulu’ is rather ugly and sometimes self-indulgent.   Even with Metallica’s sense of musical tightness, ‘Lulu’ is (mostly) not as tuneful is could have been…but that’s not to say there aren’t hidden gems within its sprawling ninety-plus minutes.

As ‘Brandenburg Gate’ begins, acoustic strumming (sounding a little like tuning up, it could be said) coupled with Reed’s instantly recognisable tones – it’s easy to cast your mind back to Reed’s late 80s/early 90s work.  This is particularly the case once he throws the listener in at the deep end lyrically, with the typically uncompromising sentiment “I could cut my arms and tits off when I think of Boris Karloff and Kinski, on the dark of the moon”.  Lou was never one to hold back lyrically and upon first hearing, this appears to be no exception.  Before long, Metallica join the arrangement with a heavy-ish, slow riff, over which Reed is forced to raise his voice.  Once he does so, his narrative delivery becomes less natural and his voice wobbles all over the place, barely hitting any right notes. With the music being such a dominant force, it’s not always so easy to hear his lyric and that’s a pity.  James Hetfield’s backing vocal is less forthright than many of his best performances and sounds hopelessly out of place against Reed.  Interestingly, even though the collective musicians have already gone to great lengths to persuade us this release does not sound like a Metallica album fronted by Reed, ‘Brandenburg Gate’ actually sounds halfway like you’d expect [unless, of course, you’re so ignorant of Reed’s career, you were dumb enough expect ‘Lulu’ to sound like ‘Satellite of Love’ and ‘Perfect Day’ beefed up with guitar riffs].

When samples of ‘The View’ appeared online some weeks before the album’s release, Metallica fans took to the discussion boards, asking if – and in some cases, hoping – those samples weren’t the real deal.  They hoped the sounds they were hearing were leaked for a joke, Ben Folds style.  It was not a joke; clearly most of ’em just don’t “get” Lou.  And although it was almost universally disliked by Metallica’s fan-base, ‘The View’ is actually far better than ‘Brandenburg’s Gate’.  For starters, Reed sounds more comfortable when he doesn’t have to complete with Hetfield’s growl.  The approach taken here, whereby Reed sings verses and Hetfield takes on chorus duties, is an effective one.  What’s more, the dark side of Reed’s song writing is given a whole new dimension when backed by Metallica’s hard-rock/metal approach.  With the aid of a slow, pounding riff which sounds like ’Tallica taking on a Black Sabbath classic, it’s so much easier to feel threatened by Reed when he starts insisting he is “the aggressor”.  Tales of suicide are nothing new in Reed’s work, but here, the topic takes on a much darker mantle.  Undoubtedly, the more small-minded among Metallica’s fan base will prefer it once Reed is quiet; if so, they at least should get some enjoyment during the number’s coda: the music speeds up a little – in keeping with “classic” Metallica – and Kirk Hammett takes centre stage for a reasonable solo.   It may have been panned, but ‘The View’ is actually one of ‘Lulu’s better offerings.

With ‘The View’ upping the ante a tad in terms of listening pleasure, things slacken off with ‘Pumping Blood’, with an uncompromising approach, that’s far too intense.  Following some grinding strings, Reed repeats the words “pumping blood” several times over a huge riff which fits somewhere between a march and a chug. His voice is atonal, and he sounds less natural; with the arrival of more lyrics, things really don’t improve much, since Reed sounds unsettled, perhaps way outside his comfort zone; it could even be said he sounds as if he’s free forming.  The only parts of this track which really work are the quiet atmospheric moments when the down-tuned riffs take a back-seat, and Lou takes a more typical approach to his work.  The rumbling bass lines, with drums and guitar vibrato/feedback set a great tone– providing a decent atmosphere for Lou’s almost spoken delivery.  Reed’s lyrics are slightly disturbing though, dealing with stabbings and prostitution – and even an unsubtle reference to inter-racial blow-jobs.  Over seven and a half minutes, the intensity of the music – and especially Reed’s lyric – becomes a listening endurance, but among the turmoil, those quieter parts aren’t completely void of charm.

The most striking thing about ‘Mistress Dread’ is it’s brutal riff.  On this number, Metallica play faster and harder than they have since their youth, tackling something which is cut from similar cloth to ‘Fight Fire With Fire’ (though obviously not as good).  Given such an intense musical backdrop, Reed should have been more in the zone than he ever is. His vocal, an absolute mismatch… wailing and crooning like a drunken old man; he has no regard for the pace or style of the music – just carelessly throwing out vocal lines whenever he sees fit.  Speaking the words of the album’s abused heroine, Reed utters lines such as “put a bloody gag to my teeth, I want you to degrade me”, which are  potentially shocking, even by Reed’s previous standards – but fact is, most of the lyrics are hard to decipher due to Reed’s woeful, woeful performance.  If his cover of ‘Peggy Sue’ represented a career nadir, then this must come pretty close.  Unlike ‘Pumping Blood’ this track can’t even create a perverse sense of pleasure.   If Metallica had any sense, they’d ask for their riff back and reuse it on something better.

If not for another monster riff, everything about ‘Iced Honey’ would sound like a Lou Reed solo outing.  Reed makes a better attempted at stretching his vocal – although still never quite manages anything resembling actual singing – and the arrangement is pleasantly upbeat.  While not as interesting as some of the other works scattered around the album, this is certainly a welcome distraction.  It’s important to have a reprieve from the ugly, darker elements on offer, and ‘Iced Honey’ brings a little lightness to the otherwise leaden album.  It’s perkier nature helps wash away the foul aftertaste left by ‘Mistress Dread’.  Although one of ‘Lulu’s most accessible numbers, there’s still ample room for improvement: for starters, it could do without Hetfield’s backing vocal, which is mildly distracting with its “recorded live to tape” looseness.  While such an approach is normal for Mr Reed, coming from Hetfield it just sounds like a rough demo take.  The hugely atmospheric ‘Little Dog’ is one of ‘Lulu’s most minimalist offerings.  Taking a spacious bluesy tone, Reed speaks over guitar reverb and acoustic riffs which sound like the roots a film score.  Stark and almost ambling in nature, the piece has a great musical emptiness. It’s especially fitting for Reed’s cold tone as he takes on the role of failure and weakness – the dog an unsubtle metaphor somebody easily dominated.  While the number shows Reed in a far more natural setting, Metallica’s contribution is practically non-existent – Reed could, in fact, have recorded the number prior to these sessions with a pick up band; most of the listening audience would be none the wiser.

‘Cheat on Me’ has an extended intro featuring string sounds and what sounds like electronic experimentation; it teases the listener by suggesting it’ll build to something grand.  In reality, that intro offers three-and-a-half minutes’ worth of directionless twaddle, followed by another minutes’ worth of the same twaddle accompanied by Reed repeating the line “why do I cheat on me?”  It could be said that Rob Trujillo’s bass noodlings have a pleasing warm sound, but that’s no reason for this style wanton self-indulgence (whether the band think of ‘Lulu’ as art or not). From this point on, Lars Ulrich marks a simple beat, while Hammett and Hetfield play staccato riffs.  Reed’s vocal improves a little once he makes it into the real meat of the number, but this is weakened by Hetfield’s occasional counter vocal which takes up the “cheat on me” line which even Reed eventually gave up on.  In truth, this number is bad – eleven and a half minutes of bad in all, none of which offer anything remotely interesting.  Metallica fans may welcome Hetfield’s presence back at the mic, but honestly, it’s a terrible performance.  It’s nowhere near as excruciating as ‘Mistress Dread’, though – it’s just overlong and serves no real point.  ‘Frustration’ is better, thanks to Metallica delivering the goods, riff-wise.  Lou winds up the tension lyrically, his voice spouting words which sound like an open letter.  If the track used this technique constantly it could have been superb, but it’s let down by huge sections of vaguely avant-garde material; for these Reed rants over a squealing string noise, or over Ulrich’s drums, which are bashed with an improvisational quality.  The ranting may be effective when given gravitas by Metallica’s full-on chug, but without, it’s ugly and directionless (or ‘artistic’, depending on your viewpoint; either way, best avoided).  The fast riff at the end helps create goodwill, but it’s really not enough – especially when you consider Metallica could have taken this route more often.

‘Dragon’ is incredibly difficult at first.  Reed shouts over various ugly guitar effects and even uglier clanging chords for almost three minutes.  With the arrival of Metallica, however, it turns on its head.  The riff is fantastic: like something the band would have recorded back in their ‘…And Justice For All’ days (with added bass, naturally).  The relatively straight-ahead chug represents almost everything you’ve ever loved about Metallica.  Even the angular, tortured lead guitar lines – presumably Reed’s musical contribution – don’t even diminish such a monolithic riff.  Reed’s vocal could have sounded a little out of step, but he’s actually given it more thought than before; shouting and speaking his lines in an bitter, angry manner which fits the music reasonably well.  Skip past the torturous intro and this quickly becomes another of ‘Lulu’s most rewarding listens.

After a brief droning intro, ‘Junior Dad’ settles into a groove which would befit many of Metallica’s ballads, potentially their most commercial music since ‘Nothing Else Matters’ back in 1991. The lyrics are said to have made members of Metallica cry, but none of Reed’s words here are anywhere near as touching as the thoughtful musical arrangement they have been given.  James’s rhythm guitar work adopts an absolutely gorgeous clean tone, while Lars’s drumming has a solid, yet far subtler tone than usual.  Six minutes in, the drones reappear – with Reed wailing over the top for a minute or so – and, naturally, this loses the momentum.  When Metallica are eventually allowed to re-find themselves a couple of minutes after the wailing, they pick up where they left off:  even by the time they decide to take the already great arrangement and beef it up, it honestly loses none of its power.  At ten minutes in, the tune vanishes completely and the orchestra – which had previously provided those intermittent drones – takes centre stage…to do nothing special; in fact, that orchestra does almost nothing at all!  The best part of the next ten minutes is best described as ambient orchestral minimalism.  Metallica should have been allowed to fill that time with variants on their brilliantly arranged, rather understated tune.  There’s a fantastic six minute edit of this almost twenty minute epic just begging to be made.  To say this track allows the listener to forgive ‘Lulu’s previous wrongs would be a huge stretch, but by the time Metallica hit their stride here, the ugliness of Loutallica’s previous musical mistakes at least begins to fade.

So, who exactly is this album’s target audience?  It’s far too “Metallica” for most of Lou’s fan-base, while the presence of Reed is enough to leave most metal fans cold.  For those open minded enough to actually like both Metallica and Lou Reed – and yes, such people do exist – it’s probably fair to say ‘Lulu’s complexities straddle a fine line between interesting and bewildering (while taking in various excursions via frustrating and appalling).  It’s funny: even though ‘Lulu’ has a fair amount of unlistenable qualities, it’s still not quite either party’s worst work.  Among hugely acclaimed albums, Reed has recorded some utter cack over the years, stuff that’s potentially less interesting than this; also, very little on ‘Lulu’ reaches the “recorded in a shed using a biscuit tin for a drum kit” awfulness of Metallica’s ‘St. Anger’.  At least the end sound of ‘Lulu’ has some uniqueness, a certain presence and a sense of pushing the odd boundary.

Many of you will hate ‘Lulu’, while some may be intrigued by its twisted darkness and Reed’s uncompromising, somewhat perverse style.  However, it’s hard to imagine anybody sane believing most of this to be among either Reed or Metallica’s best works, or actually wanting to listen to ‘Lulu’ very often.  Regardless of the ugly intensity which makes its mark on most of this release, it’s fair to say, both artistic parties should be commended on trying to break new ground so far into their combined careers – even if, at times, that equates to minimal listening pleasure.

October 2011

GUSTAV NILSSON – Makeup On, Letdowns Off

Gustav Nilsson’s previous work ‘Like You Never Really Cared’ presented him a singer-songwriter vein, pitching his heavily accented vocals against a semi-acoustic backdrop, kind of like Coyote Shivers playing Bob Dylan covers reimagined by Paul Westerberg. There’s none of that in evidence on his fifth EP ‘Makeup On, Letdowns Off’, which finds Nilsson surrounded by a full band. In Nilsson’s own words, the EP sounds like the work of “Julian Casablancas (circa 2002) meeting Courtney Love (circa 2008) in a bathroom and then being threatened into making music by Phil Spector pointing a loaded gun”. It doesn’t sound like that especially, but compared to his previous works, Nilsson certainly brings a greater musical range to his lyrics this time out. Maybe that’s what he was getting at with the big statement in the title? Or maybe it’s just that the lead track is named after KISS hero Paul Stanley?

As its title suggests, ‘Paul Stanley’ comes loaded with a seventies glam/power pop vibe. The guitars are full of jangly goodness – though none of the jangly rhythms quite match the old school solo which Nilsson throws into the mix. With handclaps a plenty, a strong hook and a stabbing piano, it’s a relatively rousing arrangement, though the general vibe never sounds much like KISS. A little Cheap Trick, maybe, but not really KISS. This track really hammers the point that Nilsson has moved on, musically speaking, since ‘…Never Really Cared’, and the numbers which follow kind of cement such a theory.

‘But Courtney, I’m a Little Bit Younger Than You’ has a simple, pounding approach which should work better than it actually does. It quickly becomes evident that the guitars are a little too simple and as such do not maintain interest for the track’s duration. There’s a reasonable chorus, but the verses are a just flat all round. The single release ‘Down Down Down’ is a little more instant, but as cheesy as hell, with Nilsson attempting something which is clearly modelled on Dion and the Belmonts (more specifically ‘Runaround Sue’). It’s likely to be a skipper after the first couple of plays since it’s just a little too familiar. If you’re someone whose generally excited by music in this particular style, then ‘Down Down Down’ may offer some enjoyment, but for others it’s the sound of seventies party hell, played in a slightly inferior way. Looking briefly at a small positive, though, some of the guitar lines are okay (in a rock ‘n’ roll sense) and the predominant bassline (also played by Nilsson) carries the weight of the work well enough.

Bringing a semi-acoustic vibe to the table ’Paper Cuts’ is the best track here without question. The electric lead guitars sound really great played against the acoustic rhythm guitars and Nilsson’s lead vocal is a little softer. Topped off with glockenspiel percussion, this is a great number, with a tiny hint of Gigolo Aunts. This is clearly what Gustav Nilsson is meant to be doing – a couple more tracks in a similar mood definitely would have improved the EP.

So, letdowns off? Sadly not. Although it’s easy to see what Nilsson was aiming for with each of its six featured songs, this EP falls short of the mark in various places. His heavily accented vocals don’t sit so well with the more power pop style he’s adopted here, while the bigger musical backdrops highlight a somewhat limited budget. In summary, despite flashes of greatness, ‘Makeup On…’ isn’t quite as enjoyable as ‘Like You Never Really Cared’, on which, his ragged vocal is far better suited.

September 2011

JUSTIN KLINE – Triangle EP

Justin Kline’s 2008 EP ‘Six Songs’ is one of many brilliant, yet unsung power pop releases of the 00’s; it’s six numbers recalling the work of Will Owsley (who sadly left us in 2010). Kline’s follow –up release isn’t exactly what he had planned. With a new release nearing completion, his studio was broken into and the master tapes were stolen.

With only a couple of the songs surviving, work on his full length debut would have to start almost from scratch. So in the meantime, Kline released the early mixes of the two surviving songs, coupled with a couple of out-takes as an EP. ‘Triangle’ (which seems like an odd name, when you consider it features four numbers) is almost split in two regarding musical styles: two of the numbers feature a similar kind of Owsley meets Jellyfish power pop (as delivered on the ‘Six Songs’ release), while the other two show far more invention – maybe pushing things a little too far into unnecessarily quirky territory.

‘Baby, You’re a Mess’ features Kline in classic power pop mode. During this superbly arranged piece of seventies-themed, Jellyfish inspired pop/rock, Kline delivers a simple, catchy hook. His slightly high register is backed ably by chiming chords, solid drumming and an uncomplicated bassline, then topped with an occasional keyboard fill that could be best described as Cars-esque. A strong opener, certainly – one which is almost certain to please fans of Kline’s previous EP. With a slightly spikier feel and use of a timeless “na na”, ‘Alison, We Cannot Be Friends’ takes this style and cranks it up a notch. A strong lead vocal is counterbalanced by multi-layered harmonies and once again, the musical arrangement is brilliant. Beneath the layers of vocals, Kline’s use of electric piano is subtle and although a twangy guitar solo may not appear to be the most obvious style choice here, somehow it seems to work. The end musical arrangement seems far too chirpy for a song about a break-up, but musically, at least, it’s another almost faultless example of classic power pop.

‘Please Go Away’ opts for a carny vibe. It’s not the kind of cool and sinister carnival atmosphere conjured up by Tom Waits on his ‘Blood Money’ disc. Nor is it the kind of brilliant sideshow you could possibly associate with Alice Cooper. No, Kline’s carnival atmospheres are brightly coloured, dizzy affairs – kinda like being stuck on a merry-go-round horse in ‘Mary Poppins’, while being force-fed candyfloss by Dick Van Dyke. A piano waltz provides something off-kilter, but it doesn’t stop there: Kline’s distinctive vocal style makes the piece feel as though it’s spinning even further and keyboard overdubs create a feeling of increasing unease. Throw on some sleigh bells for good measure and the end result becomes rather claustrophobic. ‘The Coffee Song’ closes the EP with a similarly styled sugar overload, being another power pop waltz with multi-tracked vocals, sleigh bells, stabbed piano, whistling and glockenspiel overdubs. Like ‘Please Go Away’ it’s impossible to deny that the end result is expertly crafted – and with great production values – but it’s more than a little cloying.

Since two of ‘Triangle’s four songs veer a little too far towards kitsch values, this is not quite as essential as Kline’s previous EP. If you were a fan of Kline previously, you’ll certainly find something here to make you sit up and take notice, but first time listeners may be better advised to seek out ‘Six Songs’ first.

October 2010