We are honoured to be included in a piece that David Zeidler has put together to celebrate the thirteenth anniversary of Explosions In The Sky’s seminal third album, The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place. Joseph’s snippet features alongside a great many other musicians, designers and writers involved in the wider post-rock scene, all reflecting on the EITS album and how it has influenced them.
David (who organised the Arctic Drones article) had also teamed up with our own writer CJ Blessum to organise the incredible international post-rock compilation Open Language, released earlier this year.
Thanks to David Zeidler and Arctic Drones for involving Will Not Fade in your work!
Jimmy Eat World’s previous release Damage was met with lacklustre reception. I had pre-ordered the record and honestly liked it, but I can appreciate that it didn’t have the same X-factor of previous albums. So you can see why fans were nervous about Integrity Blues.
I saw Jimmy Eat World play Futures in Auckland and it was great. The band certainly hadn’t lost any appeal, so I had faith that they could return to form with future releases.
True to my expectations, Integrity Blues is an improvement upon Damage. It has been a grower for me, rewarding every additional listen by unearthing another brilliant moment that I’d previously missed.
Anyone expecting an album full of “The Middle” or “Sweetness” – two of their breakthrough singles – will be disappointed. Integrity Blues is more slow burner than upbeat emo anthem album. A choir of layered voices add depth to the vocals, some drawn out bridges add tasteful breathing room between choruses, and the piano fills in dramatic moody phases.
The production is brilliant. Listening to the album through headphones is a stunning experience. Subtle moments really shine when listened to closely. Drum solos and bridging sections in various songs take me back to when I first heard the show-stopping echoing outro of “Lucky Denver Mint”.
Some parts completely took me by surprise. The stoner rock riffage at the end of “Pass The Baby” is enough to awaken your inner-metalhead. And the use of double-kick/toms (I can’t tell which) in “You Are Free” are tasteful and effective in a way I never would have expected.
The two singles (“Sure And Certain”, and “Get Right”) are, unsurprisingly, the standout tracks. That’s why they were chosen as singles. Not amazing, but not bad either. And I guess that really sums up the album. It’s likable, but not gripping. Well recorded, certainly… but uninspiring overall.
Integrity Blues will please Jimmy Eat World fans, but is unlikely to earn too many new fans. Don’t let that turn you off giving it a listen though. Good things take time, and this album will reward you if you stick with it.
Entry point: Locustvale
Personal favourite: Skin on Skin
From the opening lines this sounds promising. I’ve never heard of In Between before, two tracks into the album and I’m drawing comparisons to Rise Against and that pop influenced punk rock genre. Please note that the “pop influenced” is far from a bad thing in my opinion, more bands would do themselves favours by taking what they do and simplifying. If the song is good, it will show through.
The vocals are on point, harmonies are there when required and the screaming/yelling is tastefully done.
Production on the album is solid and unobtrusive, the songs are able to stand on their own legs without sounding manufactured or as so often happens with this style of music, it doesn’t sound like a garage demo that’s been released.
A note to any band who has the means, yet is still considering releasing less than studio quality productions: Don’t.
You’re only doing yourselves a disservice. If you don’t want to lose the raw energy of performing live or don’t want to be too polished, tell your engineer and producer that. If you’re a good live band, capturing that in the studio is easy. Listen to Rage Against the Machine‘s self titled album and tell me that it lacks energy or is too polished.
Locustvale is relatively two dimensional, but at 27 minutes that isn’t a concern – album is over before you know it.
The track Skin on Skin has a slightly slower more anthemic feel to it, which is where I get the Rise Against comparison. By slowing things down the vocals have more space to breathe and carry the track forward.
The track Locustvale (video above) is a decent summation of the rest of the album, the drums and bass drive it forward and leave plenty of space for the vocals to shine.
In my opinion this genre works best when the instruments drop in and out to add dynamics and contrast to the music, when albums are comprised of songs that aren’t all the same kick-snare-kick-kick-snare pattern at the same tempo.
Locustvale has the songs for those days of driving with the windows down on a hot summer road trip. Fans of this genre should find plenty on this album to enjoy.
– Murray
This review was originally posted by Murray Stace at his siteRelative Silence
Like any Australian who watched Rage after coming home from a night out or waking up early on a weekend – I’m aware of Helmet.
They are the band with a pink guitar, the shorts wearing guys with a video that kept popping up every time a heavier act got to program the songs for the show.
Armed with lots of stock footage of industrial machines, their classic 1990’s video for the track Unsung has become etched into my mind as a 3am Saturday or Sunday morning nostalgia trip.
The fact that this song aired so regularly obviously meant that they were an influential band to many, yet I never really had exposure to them beyond the Unsung video.
The years pass from my late teens, the 3am Rage viewing sessions become less frequent. Adulthood sneaks in and so do responsibilities.
Playing in bands comes and goes and every now and then you jam with a musician who plays two bars of a Helmet song and is clearly distraught that you hadn’t picked it up.
“Maybe he didn’t hear properly” they think to themselves, I’ll play it again and maybe sing a few words”.
My blank stare continues.
The cycle repeats, they play it again and this time throw in a bit of chorus.
“Surely he must know the chorus”
Nothing. I am clearly an idiot, clearly the four year age gap between myself and those who seem to be the Helmet crowd is enough.
“Dude, it’s Helmet!” they exclaim.
“Oh, yeah pink guitar, Unsung…. From Rage!”
“How can you not know Helmet” they say with a thinly veiled look of disgust like I’ve kicked their cat.
Clearly I am not true metal. Funnily enough the other bands where this situation happens to me all the time are Nirvana and the Deftones.
If I were to play them a Black Sabbath riff that isn’t Iron Man, Paranoid or War Pigs I’d probably get the same blank stares and pull my best cat kicker face right back at them. It’s part of an attitude that I hope I’m weaning myself off, the close minded aspects that come with playing to a genre of music rather than making music that you like, no matter the genre.
Back on track. . .ear
Last year, mid Reuben binge I found myself drawn to the line in Return of the Jedi (The Reuben song, not Star Wars movie), a brutally honest narrative on the prospect of being an independent musician in the Internet age.
‘Guitarist and Songwriter’,
That’s what I thought I was,
I never had no dreams of being a waiter,
But these here Helmet rip-offs,
They don’t but my lunch,
So I will get a real job in the office.
OK, so there they are again. Helmet keep popping up.
Another band who I respect and adore mentioning Helmet, this time immortalised in their lyrics, not just in an interview.
I shall have to investigate Helmet and see what all the fuss is about. Thankfully for me, Helmet have a new album coming out, so here goes.
It turns out the reason I’ve not heard much from Helmet lately is that they’ve not released an album in six years. Dead to the World is the 8th full length release from Helmet and their second in the last 10 years.
From the first 30 seconds of Dead to the World all of the elements are there. There is no extended instrumental opening or theatrics, the first verse has started in the first five seconds.
The vocals are double tracked and dirty, the bass and drums are driving the song forward relentlessly. From the get go the attitude is there, this is rock music full of the counter-culture staples that think of when you think of the genre. The rebellious, angry at everything and everyone rock music.
“Catch phrases, punchlines, guns, bluster, ammo, incivility, impatience, murder. You, me, us, them, life, liberty and the pursuit of property.” – Page Hamilton, Helmet front man.
It reads like a George Carlin monologue. The intent is clearly there, the attitude is there. Do the songs match up to the intent?
Bad News features some harmonies that I can’t help but subconsciously link to the Beatles. There is songwriting talent on display here.
Does it sound like a new album? Not necessarily, it could have easily been released in the 1990’s aside from the mastering differences.
For me it becomes a great what if game, I think that I would like this album more if it had more of a modern production sound, but would doing that make it not sound like Helmet?
The songs are near as makes no difference four minutes or shorter, so nothing overstays the welcome. Look Alive near the end of the album provides a beautiful slow contrast compared to the rest of the album, its inclusion makes the album feel more whole.
People new to Helmet might find some songs on the album that please, particularly fans of 90’s rock (think Jon Bush era-Anthrax). Using the people I know who love the band, Helmet fans will buy this album either way.
This review was originally posted by Murray Stace at his site Relative Silence
I awoke at 4.30am (1.30am Melbourne time) to make it to the airport for my flight to Melbourne for the Into It. Over It. show. As I stumbled out of bed bleary eyed, I quietly thanked myself for having the foresight to have packed my gear the night previous.
I got to the airport without a hitch, seeing as there is no traffic so early in the morning. My flight was delayed by an hour, but I busied myself doing some paperwork on my laptop as I sat in the waiting room.
Once it was time to board I somehow managed to squeeze my 6’3″ frame into the airline seat that was clearly designed for people less vertically inclined than myself. I managed to survive the four-hour flight, despite the lady in front of me deciding to recline her seat into my knees. She then proceeded to slam her body weight squarely onto my knees every two minutes as she tossed and turned, trying to make herself comfortable, and inflicting maximum pain upon my legs in the process.
Landing in Melbourne was mayhem. Nobody appeared to have a clue where to go and the lack of signage and airport staff did little to dispel the mass confusion. It took an hour to get from the runway to a bus that drove us along the tarmac, through customs, and out of the airport altogether. It was a public holiday in Melbourne because of the AFL sports final, so perhaps most of the staff had the day off? I’ve been told that customs officials are on strike tomorrow, so I wonder if I’m going to have an equally unpleasant time trying to get back into the airport?
Whilst not the first time I had flown overseas, or even the first time I’d been to Melbourne, this was the first time that I’d traveled abroad for a gig, and I was wondering if it was worth all the hassle I’d had to endure so far.
My friends picked me up from the airport. We spent the morning in Richmond sampling outrageously unhealthy [read: tasty] food, before heading into the city to stroll down the streets in search of more morsels and to listen to buskers on Bourke Street. It was both a public holiday and school holidays, so town was exceptionally busy and full of life.
I was insistent that we needed to buy some matching red and black checked shirts to wear to the gig. My friend Francie was having no bar of it, deciding that dressing like a lumberjack was beneath her. But I managed to find a beautiful 7XL sized top to wear for $10 (bargain!), and offered my own more modestly sized M sized shirt to Francie’s boyfriend James, who was far too polite to decline. He didn’t seem to stoked on the idea, but I think that he was secretly relieved that I hadn’t bought another of the 7XL shirts for him.
We arrived at the gig at 9pm. Sadly we missed opening act Jess Locke. Time management has never been my forte, and navigating Melbourne public transport was a bit beyond me in my current sleep-deprived state.
I introduced myself to Evan Weiss, the man of the night, who was manning the merch desk. He thought it was hilarious that I was rocking a shirt the size of a tent. I’d got the idea from the brilliant “No EQ” music video [embedded above], which involves everyone dressing up in those red checked shirts and oversized Evan Weiss masks with plastic glasses. To my surprise, Evan told me that I was the first fan crazy enough to actually try to dress like him for a gig. He told me that he hadn’t even featured in the “No EQ” video. He had been away touring while his friends put together the video, almost as a prank on him. At least my friends thought my insanity was slightly more justified after that conversation.
Second support Zzzounds [aka Dave Drayton] started shortly after. Like Weiss, Drayton was doing a solo show without a band for support. And the IIOI comparisons don’t stop there. He sang brilliant heartfelt songs with nimble finger picking on a glittery green guitar, and was never ending with the funny banter.
His guitar style was impressive. Most of his playing was done using two hands on the neck, with a mixture or tapping and finger picking. He sang sad songs about unemployment and lack of money, but it didn’t get depressing because he was devastatingly funny between songs. He employed a gimmick of trying to incorporate nu-metal puns and Simpsons references into his songs. Anyone who writes songs about Juggalos getting confused about magnets gets a thumbs up from me.
I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was hoping that Weiss would have brought a band over, or at least his phenomenal drummer, Josh Sparks. But I was also hoping to hear some lovely singer/songwriter numbers like from his Daytrotter sessions. Turns out that Weiss had chosen not to bring his full band on his first Australian tour, partly to test the waters, and partly because going solo is cheaper than airfares for a full band.
Not that this mattered. Weiss had more than enough presence to compensate for his lack of support. Belting out anthemic choruses one second, and then tenderly cooing into the mic the next, he showed a wide range of proficiency. A few of his rockier songs felt slightly flatter than usual without the drums or guitar pedals that feature in the studio versions, but this was easily forgiven, because he was able to pump out such brilliant tunes using just his guitar and his voice.
And although he joked that it was “sad singer/songwriter night”, nothing was sad about his performance. He was lively and energetic. He shared with us that he’d been nervous about how he would be recieved in Austrailia, but was having such a great time and couldn’t believe how well it was going.
It was a captivating show. I’ve listened to him sing thousands of times on record, so it was something special to sit a few metres away from him and watch him work his magic.
Weiss was at ease on the stage, and commented on how much fun he was having, and how welcome he felt a few times over the course of the night. He shared stories behind a few songs, told us about how his cat was plotting to kill him, discussed his old haunted car, invited us to request songs, and even asked us to heckle him (like they do back in New Jersey).
My favourite story was about the inspiration for “Pinky Swear”. At the time of writing the song Weiss was struggling to make a living as a musician, and his girlfriend was also struggling to make ends meet as someone who made plush toys for a living. The two of them swore to each other that they’d follow their passions, and the song tells of Weiss reflecting on this promise, parked in his car on the side of the road whilst watching a fireworks display.
He was a great sport, taking requests to play super deep cuts. Some of the songs he hadn’t played for many years, but it was the last night of tour, and he was feeling good, so he made a go of it. People in the audience felt comfortable interacting. Some heckled Wiess, tongue-in-cheek, as he had prompted them to. Many shouted out requests. One guy got a shout out for whistling a melody that was absent from the live guitar-only version of a song.
For one request (“Portland, OR”, from the split EP with Such Gold), Weiss had to re-tune his whole guitar, and once he had, realised that he’d entirely forgotten how the song went. He tried to look it up on spotify to remind himself, and had an attempt, before throwing in the towel and just telling us the story behind the song. He had been staying in Portland when he and his mates had invited a girl to the pub with them. She offered to buy him a beer, and when he’d said “thanks, bro”, she’d blasted him and called him a “jock douche”, which inspired the song.
It was nice to see a professional musician show that it’s OK not to be perfect. He will have played some of his songs countless times, but still manages to make mistakes. But he owns his mistakes, and has fun while he’s doing it.
I was tired and sore when I got to this gig. It had been a long day. But the music had been spellbinding. It was magic seeing how music could be used to form a genuine connection between strangers.
I left the gig exhausted, but elated. I’d been awake for almost 24 hours straight and in that time I’d flown to a different country, eaten some amazing food, caught up with old friends, and managed to meet one of my favourite artists and see him take complete ownership of the stage. It made me think about how fortunate I am to be able to pursue my love of music, and attend so many great shows.
“Life gets in the way of living And interrupts the could be, would be, should be That we’re offered everyday And now that you and I’ve been given what we’ve wanted Let’s make a pinky swear that we don’t throw it all away.”
-Into It. Over It. – “Pinky Swear”
And, as if I hadn’t managed to embarrass my friends enough that day, I fell asleep on the train ride back to their house, draped in an tragically over-sized flannel shirt.
