Review Archive: R

Saltbox  

The new Red Aunts album disappointed me. Saltbox is better produced than their last release, #1 Chicken, but the rawness of that album was one of the reasons I liked it. The first two songs on Saltbox, "Whatever" and "I Can't Do Anything Right," prepared me for a good album. Unfortunately, it didn't work out that way — many of the songs seem to wander aimlessly, not being able to decide if the song should be fast or slow. And some of their experimentation just doesn't work out at all: the awful annoying piano in "Ruby (What I Won't)" sounds like someone played it with their elbow. Pretty neat packaging, though.

Difficult is Easy  

Newcastle's Red Monkey is borderline punk/new wave/no wave minus the synthesizers. This is a record which I heard on a local college radio station and had to call in to find out who it was; the band's name turned me off but I really shouldn't judge a band by their name. It's just guitar, drums, and bass but the sound is quite defined — serious "Entertainment" era Gang of Four style music with dual male/female vocals makes Red Monkey a favorite with young and old punks alike. [Brian Chapman]

It's Martini Time  

The Rev is one of those interesting phenomenons. It's not like he gets hours of radio airplay, but the group of fans that think he is just too cool is growing. It's Martini Time, the latest installment, is quite good, but to me the songs don't sound as fresh, possibly because the ideas have been explored on previous releases. It's still a great record, but it sounds like I've heard it before. "Big Red Rocket of Love" screams of double entendre and "Slow" is the way the Rev thinks we should all do it to get everyone where they need to go. The oddest song by far is "That's Show Biz," a seven minute rant about an entertainer getting older but still dealing with the same day-in/day-out routines. Is the Rev trying to tell us something? [Jamie Quinn]

United by Fate  

The latest project by Walter Schreifels and other NYC hardcore alumni is what I expected: Quicksand-esque melodic hardcore. Rival Schools is, however, a little more experimental than Quicksand, sprinkling more guitar noise throughout (especially on "Hooligans for Life" and "World Invitational"). But the power is still there, blending nicely with Walter's voice. If you miss Quicksand, you should already have "United by Fate". If you don't, give "Good Things", "Travel by Telephone", "My Echo", and "High Acetate" a listen.

Rosemary Caine play well-crafted acoustic pop, but a combination of the mellowness (not that there's anything wrong with being mellow), artsy-ness (not that there's anything wrong with being artsy), and the singer's voice all keep me from really liking this. I'm not a gigantic pop fan, so it's gotta be great for me to love it. I imagine that Rosemary Caine is good for when you want to kick back and relax at your favorite coffee house...but I prefer Dunkin' Donuts.

The first release from the pride of Providence is a two-song single: "King of the Joint" and "The Bullfighter vs. the Mariachi" are quickly becoming crowd favorites of the Crowns' incredible live performances, which attract greasers (?), punks, rudies, and alternateens alike. I won't fake it and pretend to be an expert about rockabilly, but I do know that these guys play some damn fun, rocking music.

Hee Saw Dhuh Kaet  

Oh my, the Rye Coalition always get the best of me. From my earliest experience with Rye at a fraternity beer-kegger party to my Adam Sandler conversations with drummer Dave Leto at a Seam show, they never cease to amaze. Such is the case with their first full length, a nine-song brutal onslaught of post N.J. emocore meets Shellac in Washington D.C. that kicks my ears' ass time and again. Pure intensity from start to finish. Rip-saw guitar, versatile bass meandering from fast to slow in a hearbeat, and head-pounding drums guide singer Ralph through lessons in sexual tension, high hair, and failed relationships. It's a ride that never gets boring, unless you've already been handcuffed to bedposts or tasted the sweet sounds of Nevada. [Brian Tunney]