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PatriarchSon of a Refugee

How does one review an album of Palestinian quasi-militant political gangsta rap that seems to have the purpose of fighting “the wrath of this illegal Israeli occupation”? The beats are fine, the rhymes are logical and it’s not too often one hears shout-outs to Palestinian queens, Lebanese mommies, Jordanian hotties, Syrian babies, Egyptian queens, Iraqi hotties, and Arabic honeys. However, this isn’t something that’ll ever get played on mainstream radio, or even the most open-minded indie radio. St. Bono would tell us that one of music’s purposes is to bring injustice into the light of the public eye. But on a sensitive geo-political issue such as “peace in the Middle East,” which has been a topic of debate for roughly a few millennia, does Patriarch think he has what it takes to change the world with this album? The contentious subject matter will alienate a huge chunk of his potential audience, and the audience that’s left are likely to already be supporters, so the medium may be ignored. Some, however, will be inclined to ignore both.

Comeback KidBroadcasting…

This is a 33-minute album of non-stop, full-frontal aural assault, led by guitarist and lead screamer Andrew Neufeld. Relentless drumming by Kyle Profeta propels the songs as pummeling bass lines from Kevin Call and punishing guitar shredding from Jeremy Hiebert round out the lineup. Without the included lyric sheet, no one on God’s green earth would have a clue what’s bothering Neufeld. If, however, we are to assume that the words on the page correlate to the barrage of screaming on the CD, then a sampling of the lyrical sadness might be in order. “Hailing On Me” proclaims, “I’ve been exposed / filtered through a maze of rumored facts / all I’ve withheld coming to the surface / hailing on me.” More vague notions are explored on “Give’r [Reprise]”: “What I don’t know leaves me wanting it more / I’m ready now more than ever.” And even more on the album closer “In/tuition”: “speculate intentions and bring attention to the source.” Regardless of the almost complete lack of specificity found in the lyrics, the songs all seem to be an attempt at catharsis, both in lyrics and in overpowering music. And, although the band has probably been digitally edited into a computer-precise cohesion, they do sound tight, and if non-stop screaming over a bed of non-stop thundering and shredding sounds appealing, then check out this band.

The Used Berth

On opening the CD, listeners will be faced with the tough decision of which is more hilarious: the album’s cover illustration of an electric shark wearing high heels and bleeding neon green Jell-O from its belly, or the modest insert ad for official “The Used” T-shirts, sweatshirts and forthcoming studio album. This Utah foursome plays that modern “screamo” alt-rock with bleating vocal melodies that seem to alternate between a few notes and are so nauseatingly whiny it’s hard to imagine what this platinum-selling band has to keep complaining about. This is an album of nine live songs, packaged with a two-and-a-half hour DVD of concert footage and behind-the-scenes stuff. This album seems to be aimed at people who are already fans of the band, and although the songs were recorded over a year ago, the mix is weak, with vocals in the back, drums in the front, and guitars wavering from front-and-center to somewhere behind the lead bass lines. There are a few Spinal Tap moments here–one song begins with a full minute of Bert McCracken’s spoken word poetry while the band does a jazz odyssey in the background, while another begins with him eloquently declaring “We’re The Fucking Used!” Now that’s poetry. They’ve toured with Linkin Park and recorded a song with My Chemical Romance, and their sound isn’t too different from either of those restrained songsters.

Ashley TisdaleHeadstrong

High art this ain’t. More like High School Musical art, maybe? This girl is Sharpay Evans from that gawd-awful made-for-TV Disney movie. That’s right–from the voice that brought you “Bop to the Top” comes a full album of synthesized, homogenized, auto-tuned teen dance pop. The album’s opening track, oddly, is a medley/mashup of the rest of the album’s 13 songs. It’s like a mini-greatest hits sampler, and it starts off the album. A puzzling move indeed. Maybe it’s intended to be like a TV commercial, like “Coming up on this week’s teen superstar album…!” Most of the songs here either blatantly ripped off already popular songs or are bland and uninspired, hook-filled pap about how she’s famous and attractive. On “Don’t Touch (the zoom song),” she sings, “Don’t you dare / touch me there / if you want to get somewhere / zoom in get to know me, boy / don’t rush / Zoom in if you want me, boy / Don’t touch.” Her mind games with boys are already beginning, even at the tender age of… holy crap, she’s 21! She’s way too old to be making this crappy music. Finally, in the album’s credits, she thanks God and her puppy.