When I first read that Conor Oberst was going to reunite Bright Eyes for a sci fi-themed concept album, my eyes rolled so far back into my head that I choked on them. I had grown less and less enamored with Oberst’s work after the uneven but occasionally brilliant double-whammy of I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning and Digital Ash in a Digital Urn and gave up on him altogether when he released his mostly underwhelming solo albums. I had little to no hope that Bright Eyes’ return would be anything other than completely disappointing.

I’m happy to say that I was wrong. The People’s Key is surprisingly enjoyable despite sounding in theory like something a teenager would have thought up while smoking weed and reading Dianetics. Oberst rocks harder than he has in quite a while, and Mike Mogis brings his production bells and whistles back to the table for an album at sounds every bit as ambitious, if not more so, than Digital Ash in a Digital Urn. In fact, The People’s Key sounds very much like a follow-up to that album, both in production style and lyrical content.

Oberst has never lost his panache for a catchy turn of the phrase, even when he was writing music I wasn’t particularly into. “I used to dream of time machines,” goes one line in the song “Approximate Sunlight.” “Now it’s been said we’re post-everything.” Hearing lines like that, I’m reminded of why I liked his music so much in the first place. It wasn’t just that he was a sad sack, which I could totally relate to; he was a sad sack who was more adept than anyone this side of Elliott Smith at singing about his sadness. He was putting my own feelings into words that expressed them better than I ever could.

Elsewhere on the album, though, Oberst’s pretention once again reminds me of why I started growing weary of him after Lifted. As his lyrics grew more obtuse, I found I could no longer relate to them as much. “Little Hitler sat in his giant’s chair and dreamed of nowhere,” he sings in the laboriously titled “A Machine Spiritual (In The People’s Key).” It’s kind of hard to take a line like that seriously, and Oberst sings it without the merest hint of irony or playfulness.

In the end, The People’s Key doesn’t quite measure up to Bright Eyes’ earlier work, but on its own merits it is a pretty solid album. Oberst has matured as a songwriter since Cassadega, and the result is a collection of tracks that is more consistent even if it’s not any less pretentious and self-serious. Those hoping for a return to angst and introspection are going to be disappointed here, but with the right expectations The People’s Key is an entertaining listen.

Bright Eyes:

• MySpace
• Saddle Creek
• Last.fm
• Conor Oberst

Drive-By Truckers should be considered in the pantheon of the greatest bands of all time. The Dirty South was a wonder, and Decoration Day and Brighter Than Creation’s Dark both rank among the very best albums that I’ve ever heard. They’re a dark combination of Lynyrd Skynyrd and The Rolling Stones, and they’re better at storytelling than either. They followed 2008’s sprawling Brighter Than Creation’s Dark with The Big To-Do, a straightforward, rocking album that, while very good, failed to give much of a reason to listen to it over the three albums I’ve already mentioned. Lead Trucker Patterson Hood’s lyrics were captivating as always, but they lacked the magic and passion that I’ve come to expect. The Big To-Do was a very good album, but from a band that’s often phenomenal, being simply very good is frustrating.

Less than a year later, they’re releasing Go-Go Boots, which was written alongside The Big To-Do, but unlike that album, their patented triple guitar attack isn’t constantly used. In fact, it might not be used at all. I love that sound, but its absence is a blessing, really. It allows us to pay more attention to the songs themselves rather than just appreciating their loud, awesome rock.

Maybe that lack of intensity makes it less apparent that there’s a top tier Truckers track here, but dig deeper and you’ll find something special in Hood’s “Used To Be A Cop.” On Brighter Than Creation’s Dark’s big standout, “That Man I Shot,” Hood used an explosive, violent song to better portray the horror of an overseas soldier who kills an enemy combatant and later empathizes with his victim. Where you had characters that weren’t as gripping on The Big To-Do, “Used To Be A Cop” is maybe the finest characterization exhibited in a Drive-By Truckers song. Hood introduces a man who’s lost his job as a cop thanks to mental problems beyond his control, which isn’t an occupation you expect the Truckers to glorify. Then the entire thing constantly makes you feel more and more sorry for the guy, showing you how his lack of size denied him a chance to go to college football, showing his glee when he found the only thing he was ever good at thanks to the police academy, showing him losing everything along with his job, including his wife, and finally having the poor guy staring into his old house at his old wife, dreaming of more secure times.

The title track, like “Used To Be A Cop,” is a dark, Hood-written song built around a groove, and songs like that give the album a badass vibe. That would be a good identity for Go-Go Boots, but on the other end of things, we find Hood being enormously positive. He outright flirts with cheesiness on “Everybody Needs Love” (“like the sun and moon and stars up above”), opens optimistically with “I Do Believe,” and gives us a big, happy chorus on “The Thanksgiving Filter” (“Thanksgiving is over/And Christmas is soon”). It’s wonderful when he’s quiet, too, like on “Assholes,” an “us versus them” song that would fit right on The Dirty South.

Mike Cooley’s such a faultless songwriter that it’s almost not worth talking about. He kills it here as always, particularly on “Pulaski,” but what interests me is Shonna Tucker’s role in the band. Jason Isbell, ex-Trucker and her ex-husband, kept pace with and often even surpassed Hood and Cooley, but Shonna Tucker songs are wonderfully built melodies accompanied by less profound songwriting that work as breaths between breathtakers. Songs like “Home Field Advantage” and “Purgatory Line” helped pace Brighter Than Creation’s Dark, which is quite important when you’re dealing with a nineteen-song album, and they were utilized similarly on The Big To-Do. Tucker’s given more room to breathe than, say, George Harrison, but it’s always seemed like she’ll forever be the third man, so to speak. Until her final song on Go-Go Boots, it feels like she’s being kept that way, but the chorus of “Where’s Eddie?” has her gaily shouting the title in a way that signals that she wants to be heard, damn it. Shonna Tucker isn’t Mike Cooley or Patterson Hood, and my guess is that she never will be, but it’s becoming increasingly more fun to watch her try.

Go-Go Boots is definitely not as good as Decoration Day, The Dirty South, or Brighter Than Creation’s Dark, but I would say that it’s their next best, and considering the quality of their second tier albums, that’s saying quite a bit. When an album by a legendary band is less than phenomenal, the most important thing that it needs to do is give you something that the rest of their discography can’t, and Go-Go Boots does everything necessary to keep itself from being eclipsed.

Photo by Laura Gray

There are awesome bands in Chicago. The problem is that nobody listens to them. And it doesn’t matter how many times I say the words “Welcome To Ashley,” “Jonny Rumble,” and “Maybenauts” – crummy pop-punk bands will always draw a larger audience. I’ve come to terms with that sad reality. What I absolutely cannot come to terms with is you passing on the new California Wives EP – it’s called Affair, and it will make you fall in love with pop music all over again. From the first chords of “Blood Red Youth,” which conjure weird images of Rush discovering a MacBook in the pre-civilization desert, to the frenzied “wearing your fancy shoes tonight” climax of “Twenty Three,” California Wives deliver the goods.

These guys are one of those bands that seem to spring fully-formed from the ether, even though the secret is always practice, practice, practice. California Wives have practiced; they are tight the way professional bands are tight. They own their shit. I saw them open for Jonny Rumble at Beat Kitchen a couple months ago and they were scarily focused and taut; I overheard their set at a street fest a few weeks after that, while I sweated it out in the Assault tent drinking beers with @eddieftw, and I realized that this was something truly special – what Affair does is similar to what M83′s Saturdays = Youth did in 2007. When I listen to Affair, I feel like I am in the greatest John Hughes movie that was never made; I feel like I’m walking not just on the clouds, but amidst the clouds; all my emotions are pink and fluffy, like cotton candy. This band is better than Prozac.

But, seriously: what sets this EP apart from the thousands of others that get released by unsigned bands every year? First, there’s the production – the songs are arranged artfully, with exactly the appropriate amount of bells and whistles. You could break these tracks down to their essentials, play them on an acoustic guitar, and they’d still be fantastic. But dressed up in the fanciest clothes that the band could find, these compositions reach for a different level. Do they grasp it? Yes, of course they grasp it. California Wives are major! Second: this is sensitive, emotional music that still finds the time and wherewithal to rock out – when the guitars start chuggin,’ you know they’re gonna build to a massive, awe-inspiring melodic drone, one that perfectly complements the sophistication and craft on display. California Wives are nice, but not too nice – they do fuck shit up when it’s necessary.

Do you need any more reasons this is great? Okay, here’s one more: they are nice, normal-looking dudes that take obvious joy in creating music. They were not formed by accident at Hair Cuttery. I’ve taken to calling California Wives “the Walkmen of Chicago”; that might not be fair or accurate, but that’s the vibe I’m picking up, whatever they happen to be putting down. Affair makes me want to go back to college and major in poetry. This band is eerily precise and absolutely breathtaking in their ability to create polite, pretty soundscapes that dudes like me want to live in. In a world where everything seems crazy, California Wives make sense; they also make great music, and Affair is incontrovertible proof of that fact. I always say I want more when a band drops a decent EP, but this time it’s serious – my skin itches.

California Wives:

• Official Site
• MySpace
• Last.fm

Suburbs are strange and disquieting places. They’re conceived as an intermediary stage between urban and rural life, where people can have yards and look at trees from their windows, but can also walk to their neighbors’ houses in just a few minutes. The product of this marriage between mutually exclusive lifestyle concepts is something completely different than its constituent parts. The only sound in the empty streets outside may be distant spring peepers and engines on far-away highways, but the electric streetlamps and porchlights won’t even allow the illusion of total darkness. There won’t be any poor people around,because they can’t afford the houses or meet the social standard of the neighborhood’s planners. And that means there won’t be many artists or freethinkers around, either. A conformist mentality can quickly take hold. This mentality – paranoid, xenophobic, and reflexively conservative – has come to define them in the popular imagination, and in the music of the Montreal band Arcade Fire.

Arcade Fire’s debut EP ended in a dreamy meditation on the phrase, “Let’s live in the suburbs.” Funeral, their widely acclaimed first album, is divided into halves, the first of which is largely made up of a suite of songs titled “Neighborhood #1-4.” Those songs describe the calcification of one generation and the struggle of its offspring to break free from their paranoid and stultifying community. Their second album, Neon Bible, depicts America as the neighborhood from Funeral writ large. But their third album, The Suburbs, is their first direct approach of the subject, and it may well be their last, because they explore it in great depth here. The result of that exploration is their third consecutive great album.

Album opener “The Suburbs” begins with a cymbal crash and an easygoing melody that vaguely resembles an that of an early-70s Neil Young song. It sounds, appropriately, like an ideal soundtrack to a backyard barbecue until the strings in the background take on an ominous cast and co-lead singer Regine Chassagne begins singing an eerie, wordless moan. The lyrics describe boredom and existential dread: “When all of the walls that they built in the 70s finally fall / And all of the houses they built in the 70s finally fall / It meant nothing, nothing at all.” Frontman Win Butler describes a desire to have a child, so that he can “show her some beauty before all this is done.” The passage of time clearly terrifies the speaker, who cries out, “In my dreams we’re still screamin’!”

Fear of waste and conformity pervades the entire album. “Ready to Start” charges in on the pounding drums and power chords of Arcade Fire anthems past, but its bright synthesizer pulses and industrial rhythms suitable to Depeche Mode or New Order don’t resemble the band’s previous work at all. Butler sings, “Well, the kids have always known / That the emperor wears no clothes / But they bow down to him anyway / It’s better than bein’ alone.” “Modern Man,” which sounds like an early Elvis Costello ballad, describes standing in line to take a number as the condition of contemporary society. The speaker in “Rococo,” which has the infinity-approaching sonic scope of Neon Bible’s “Intervention,” looks on a group teenagers who ritualistically repeat a word that they don’t understand and curses them.

Throughout the album, the image of empty spaces recurs frequently. On the hard-charging, “Wake Up”-rivaling anthem “Empty Room,” Chassagne’s voice is as powerful and as haunting as it has ever been as she describes realizing that she loves someone while sitting alone in an empty room. This image is paralleled on the following track, “City with No Children,” as Butler sings, “I hide inside of my private prison.” In “Half Life I,” which sounds like something Julee Cruise should be singing in a David Lynch movie, Win sings, “You say you hear human voices, but they’re only echoes.” The album’s centerpiece, “Half Life II,” which sounds like an angry M83, includes the lyrics “In this home, it has no life,” and “One day, they will see that it’s long gone.”

These descriptions of emptiness are paralleled with the image of the suburban sprawl, which is ostensibly intended to fill the void with community and economic opportunity, but instead only compounds the feeling of alienation. In the first of the two climactic songs called “The Sprawl,” Win sings, “Let’s take a drive through the sprawl / Through the towns that they built to change.” In the magnificent synthesizer anthem “The Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains),” Regine sings, “Dead shopping malls rise like mountains beyond mountains /And there’s no end in sight.” It seems that the only thing to do in the sprawl is to drive aimlessly. Song after song describes wandering the highways, silently imagining going someplace far away. In “Suburban War,” Win sings to a lost friend, “I searched for you in every passing car.” In the mournful, gospel-tinged “Wasted Hours,” the narrator says, “We’re still driving around and around and around,” and describes himself as a “kid in [a bus], longing to be free.”

But he clearly doesn’t see himself remaining a kid much longer. Those “dead shopping malls” are the sprawl condensed into a single image, and the prospect of physical and spiritual moribundity haunts the speakers. The propulsive, Springsteen-like rock song “Month of May” describes a “violet wind” that “blew the [telephone] wires away.” At the end of the song, Win shouts, “Let the wind take my body away” in a voice shot through with mad mortal terror. In “Deep Blue,” the chess match between Gary Kasparov and the supercomputer of the title touches off a meditation on technological waste. Win sings, “We watched the end of the century compressed on a tiny screen / A dead star collapsing.” “We Used to Wait” further describes the speaker’s anxiety of technological change. He bitterly groans, “I used to write letters; I used to sign my name,” and mourns “All those wasted lives in the wilderness downtown.”

But the album, while mournful, does suggest a kind of limited triumph over the compromised culture of the suburbs. In “The Sprawl II,” Regine sings of standing against the conformist spirit of her community: “They heard me singing and they told me to stop / Quit these pretentious things and just punch the clock / I wonder if the world’s so small / Can we ever get away from the sprawl?” The existence of the song implies that the speaker did. But though “The Sprawl” suggests the speakers have finally left the suburbs, the album’s solemn coda “The Suburbs (Continued)” shows that the speaker is still fixated on the past, still looking for some place to call home.

Is that where the album leaves Arcade Fire? The Suburbs is as cohesive and as powerful as any album in recent memory. Its lyrics are rich with well-observed detail, and its music is as compelling as this band’s work has come to be expected to be. But now that the suburbs are finally behind them, where will the greatest band of this generation go? We can only hope that, wherever it is, they get there quickly.

(Sometimes, a record comes along that unites two [or more] of the Assault.it staffers in such critical fervor that a standard single-writer review can’t possibly do the subject justice. And so we employ the most powerful weapon at our disposal: THE TAG TEAM REVIEW! This episode of TAG TEAM features Tim and Oswald getting all pumped up over Godsmack’s new record, The Oracle.)

TIM I like music that’s tough. Not that the funky beats of indie rock don’t appeal to me, but when I’m rolling down the south side for a White Sox game or to hit up Reggie’s rock club for a show, I can’t be seen listening to. . .that. I don’t want to get robbed, or beat up, or laughed at. (I like Paramore too, but you won’t see me listening to that kind of stuff in my car either.) Godsmack is tough. Tough, and heavy--really heavy. That’s all I’ve ever asked for in metal bands. I don’t need you to screech or growl or melt my face with silly stringy guitar solos--just be heavy, and mostly make me look and feel tough when I listen to you.

Even if I’m just vaccuuming my place, if I have the windows down and some high school riff-raff spy me from the street level hardcore-vaccuuming to Godsmack, I don’t want them to giggle to themselves and throw rocks at my window, or laugh at me like I used to laugh at my friend’s “favorite Chicagoan” neighbor. (The one that used to ride his exercise bike indoors in full-on racer gear directly in front of the window for everyone to see--that guy wasn’t tough.) Listening to Godsmack’s new album makes you feel tough because they didn’t go down the same road that countless other soundalikes have. (See Q101′s playlist during the daytime. . .Seether, Breaking Benjamin, Sick Puppies, and on and on.)

OSWALD Godsmack are definitely tough, I’ll give them that. And after ten years of making fun of them for biting Alice In Chains so hard that Layne Staley felt it from his underground opium den (aka “grave“), I’m willing to give them even more than that: they’re actually fucking good. As I get older, the number one thing I look for in new music is variety and experimentation -- I want bands that are doing something new and unique, that are transporting me somewhere else with their sound. Godsmack don’t do any of that, though, and that’s why I’ve responded so strongly to The Oracle. After a long day of listening to bands that are trying to rape my ears with the new and the crazy, it’s actually kinda refreshing to pop open a crisp, cold Budweiser and hear a band that just cranks it up to 11 and settles into a hard-rockin’ groove. If Bob Lefsetz were to catch a Godsmack concert, he’d probably describe them as “smokin.’” And then he’d go back to his tiny apartment in Santa Monica and write a 1000-word diatribe about how they reminded him of when he used to go see Deep Purple at the Coliseum in 1974 and they’d blow his fucking face off with their stoned virtuosity.

The riffs on The Oracle just keep coming -- it’s like a freight train loaded with bareknuckle blooze guitar, headed straight for your tender cranium. The disc starts strong with “Cryin’ Like A Bitch,” a song that first reminds me of every time I ever cried like a bitch, and then forces me to drink my own salty tears at (metaphorical) fist-point. Every time I hear that song, I feel like somebody jammed a hypodermic needle filled with testosterone straight into my nuts. I actually strut for three or four days afterward, wobbling like my huge balls are throwing me off balance. And the rest of the CD has pretty much the same vibe, although it gets pretty dark at parts. And that’s when the band channels Alice In Chains the most, but I don’t hate it -- now that Jerry Cantrell has officially shit all over AIC’s legacy by getting the band back together with a new, utterly generic Staley soundalike, we need a new Alice In Chains. And Godsmack could show those guys how it’s REALLY done -- there’s no drugged-out self-loathing to be found here, just brick-hard cock-rock that swings with the grungy swagger of Led Zeppelin cutting their coke with Valium.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=0eXIOK2vOhM

The Oracle is a true marvel of craftsmanship, in my opinion -- none of these songs are catchy enough to become all-time favorites, but the disc overall is almost frighteningly consistent. I can listen to it from start to finish without paying attention and still get all the information I need to process and appreciate it. That’s kind of a back-handed compliment, but this is hard-rock, right? Everything should be communicated directly to my face like the backhand of Allah. If you do pay attention, there’s a notable lack of lyrical insight present, but the principle themes are communicated semi-powerfully by a witchy Massachusetts vibe that makes me feel like Nathaniel Hawthorne came back from the dead as a badass zombie and started writing songs about voodoo and whiskey. Obviously that can’t be a bad thing, right?

TIM If there’s one song that stands out on this album to me it’s probably the caboose track, “The Oracle.” It vaguely reminds me of the track we used to loop at a haunted house I worked at called Voodoo--you could play that song all night long and not get sick of it and still feel creepy as fuck following teenagers around in full facepaint and a scary costume. “The Oracle” differs in that, if you were racing your car around suburban midwestern towns, the only way you’d slow down would be if a rival high school’s quarterback cut you off in his piece-of-shit Ford Mustang.

Without the 2cc injection of testosterone sauce squirted right into your sack by the last two minutes of non-stop guitar riffs, you’d probably just mosey your way down the road to your girlfriend’s house (where you’d cry [like a bitch] to her about how much you hate jocks. Thankfully us skinny twerps have tough soundtracks that at least make us sound tough. No doubt half of the songs on The Oracle will be featured in this year’s Vin Diesel or Rob Zombie movie. Although, they’re hard to tell apart besides “The Oracle.” This is definitely one of those albums you can listen to from start to finish on shuffle, over and over again, without discerning between whether or not you have made it through the entire disc yet.

TAG-TEAM GRADE: A-

From 1998 to 2004, Alkaline Trio was the best pop-punk band in the world. This is a fact. They did only one thing – springy, melodic songs with rubbery bass-lines, lots of chunky palm-muted riffs, and dark, soul-searching lyrics – but they did it awesomely. And then they started to do other things (play around with keyboards and synthesizers, let the drummer write songs, get married and become happy with their personal lives) and, suddenly, everything changed. They were still a good band, but Crimson (2005) and Agony & Irony (2008) are nobody’s favorite Alkaline Trio albums. They’re melodic and musically accomplished in ways that displayed “growth” and “maturity,” but they also felt somewhat forced lyrically, with singer/guitarist Matt Skiba relying increasingly on cliched and clumsy metaphors as his songwriting got less personal. The dudes (bassist/singer Dan Andriano and drummer Derek Grant, plus Skiba) scattered across the country and started doing aging rocker stuff like “surfing” and “having kids.” But about a year ago, everything started to change again: the guys started hanging out in Chicago more, they talked about “returning to their roots,” Skiba got divorced. All of this could mean only thing: COMEBACK! So, the first question: Is This Addiction a return to their glory days? Does it accomplish very much with, musically, very little? Is it superficially evil for fun with genuinely heavy emotional content for serious? Can it explode a unicorn’s boner in a great blast of pink stars and fairy dust?

Short answer: No, yes, sort of, and maybe.

Long answer: This Addiction doesn’t sound like Goddamnit, Alkaline Trio’s much-ballyhooed, now classic first full-length. And that’s going to disappoint some people, because some people are always disappointed that the band evolved from being a bunch of drunk-ass nineteen year-olds. And some people, like me, will never be entirely happy without Glenn Porter in the line-up; Derek Grant has always struck me as a weird fit for the Trio, and a lot of folks, myself included, hold him almost entirely responsible for trying to push the band in artistic directions they weren’t quite skilled enough to master. The Trio that most of us first fell in love with is never coming back, but that’s been true for years – we should all be used to it by now. Matt Skiba is never going to describe our emotions with profane, pin-point accuracy the way he did on “Radio,” and Dan Andriano will never be sad again, apparently. But This Addiction is a sharp, punchy addition to the band’s catalog. They don’t try anything they haven’t already mastered, but it’s an absolute joy to hear them doing these things that they are very, very good at.

The album kicks off with three fast, hard-charging tracks that all sound like they should have been b-sides. I say this is as a compliment; over the last couple years, all the best Trio songs have been ones that didn’t actually make it on to their records. “This Addiction” begins the record on an extremely high note – racing tempos, a bright melody, uncomplicated lyrics that equate love with, um, addiction in a way that’s not necessarily novel but still brutally effective. And then Dan Andriano gives the best vocal performance of the entire disc on “Dine, Dine My Darling,” daring to make a Misfits joke on a song that celebrates (once again) domestic bliss. “Lead Poisoning” features Skiba’s trademark “dun…dun-nun-nuh” riffing, but it sounds good, like hanging out with an old friend. Plus, a simple, cool saxophone solo sets the track apart from the roughly twenty-five others almost exactly like it in the band’s catalog. Things take a bad turn after that, though – “Dead On The Floor” cannibalizes both “Trouble Breathing” and “San Francisco” (from Goddamnit) and stops the album’s momentum in a tired and unforgivable fashion.

It gets somewhat hit-or-miss after that. “The American Scream,” the token political track, isn’t bad, but its central metaphor is a little corny. “Draculina,” “Eating Me Alive,” and “Piss & Vinegar” are a little too mid-tempo and interchangeable to run in a row, and they bog down the middle of the record. But This Addiction finishes stronger than any Trio record in recent memory: “Dorothy” blasts out of the speakers in an explosion of double-time drumming and eerie David Lynch references, by far the most exciting song Skiba’s written in six years. And “Fine,” Andriano’s gentle closer, is a tearjerker that builds to epic status without over-reaching. Maybe the songs in the middle only feel like filler because they’re book-ended by such powerful material; in any event, I ain’t complaining. This is definitely the best Trio record since Good Mourning, and it might end up ranking along with Maybe I’ll Catch Fire and From Here To Infirmary when all is said and done.

Let’s face it – these guys are getting older, and they can’t do this forever. But This Addiction is an excellent, full-bodied reminder of why we started loving them in the first place, and if they never made another record, their legacy would be secure. This is the way you grow up – not with intricate piano parts or relentless overdubs, but by knowing who you are and what you do, and then doing it the best you know how. I’m glad Alkaline Trio are doing their one thing again, and doing it perfectly.  

Alkaline Trio:

• Official Site
• MySpace
• Facebook
• YouTube
• Twitter

So if you’re anything like me, you get you’re music from any source possible.  More often than not, this source is completely unreliable and does a number to your iTunes library.

I recently had a chance to review TuneUp, a program for your Mac or PC that automatically “cleans up” your iTunes library.  Now, like many, I feel the coolest part of my iPhone is the ability to flip through the album covers when in landscape mode.  Unfortunately, due to the lack of accurate resources (see paragraph 1), I was often searching through a stack of iTunes music notes.

Of course, if you don’t have the cover artwork, you can have iTunes search the store for the artwork, but again, this was often prevented due to incorrect song titles, album titles, or an unnecessary “The” before a bands name.  Who has time to fix that?

I thought I was doomed to forever have an iTunes catalog of unorganized, improperly titled, cover-less songs.  Until today.

TuneUp installation was a breeze.  And as “Third World” Timmy will tell you, I am the LEAST tech savvy person around.  I have trouble logging into this blog.  Anyway, the concept is easy.  Once you install TuneUp, you choose what you are trying to do: Clean Your Mislabeled Music, Find Your Missing Cover Art, Explore Your World of Music, & Never Miss Another Show.  I’ll start backwards and work my way up.

Never Miss Another Show

Based on the music in your library and the location you set, TuneUp notifies you of upcoming concerts in your area that may be of interest to you.  While I currently have the unfortunate luck of residing in Fort Wayne, Indiana, I could definitely see this as being my best friend if I were lucky enough to be back in Dallas or Chicago.

Explore Your World of Music

Based on the current song playing, TuneUp has a little pop-up window which lets you completely delve into the realm of the song/artist.  In my case, The Red Strokes by Garth Brooks was playing (don’t hate).  Within the little pop-up window attached to iTunes, I had full and instant access to Garth Brooks tagged YouTube videos, Artist Biography, Concert Notifications, Album Recommendations, Song Recommendations, Google News, Merch, Ebay, and more.  A pretty cool set of features that will definitely help me waste valuable time while at the office.

Find Your Missing Cover Art

Sounds simple enough, and it is.  TuneUp simply scans your library for missing cover art and then gives you up to 4 options to select the picture art from.  I didn’t play around with this feature too much, as I needed more help than this.

Clean Your Mislabeled Music

Here’s the good stuff.  Simply drag your library to the pop-up box attached to iTunes (says it can do them all, but that it works best when doing only up to 500 at a time, so I abided).  TuneUp then scans your songs and assigns them to 3 categories: Matches, Likely Matches, & Not Found.  Matches are said to be definite finds, Likely are said to be “pretty good results, but you might want to verify” and Not Found, well, yeah.

For this review, I decided to take my entire library and scan it.  I have 900+ songs on my work laptop, and had 16 tracks Not Found.  These tracks were either self-recorded Garage Band tracks, or live concert tracks.  None that I felt should have been “Found”.  I had several return under Matches, but a majority of them came back as Likely.  I, of course, didn’t feel like verifying any of the Likely ones, so I took all suggestions and decided to see how it faired out.

To scan my roughly 900 songs and save/accept changes, it took about 20-25 minutes.  What impressed me the most was that not only did it fix song names, band names and album titles, but it also added album artwork as well as meta information.  It changed my Sugarcult songs from Rock to Punk Pop, my Rick Astley from Other to Adult Contemporary (touché).  This program is awesome.  As of yet, I haven’t found an incorrect switch.  I’m sure it’s out there and I plan to search for one, but as of now, it certainly beats me actually doing any work to fix anything.  And the best part is, all but 16 songs in my library have cover art, so I can flip through those albums to my hearts content.

This program is Flippin’ Sweet.  Pun Intended. You can pickup the yearly license for $19.95 or splurge and get the lifetime license for $29.95 over at the TuneUp website.

Disclosure: We were provided a free review copy of this software, and we do get a small affiliate percentage of every sale we make of this software–but we wouldn’t endorse it if we didn’t like it, and thoroughly test it out.

“Kings And Queens,” the first single from 30 Seconds to Mars‘ new album, This Is War, has been out for awhile. It almost made it onto our Songs We’ve Put on Repeat post, but it was just too soon. Needless to say, I am a big fan of the single, and the same could be said about the majority of the album. It’s another step in the band’s evolution from “some-actor-who’s-in-a-rock-band” with their first album, to a more polished band with their second album, and to where they stand now with their own unique sound.

Link opens in iTunes

While I may stand on an island alone in my enjoyment of the new album, that’s not to say that I still wouldn’t be slightly embarrassed if my headphones unplugged while I was jamming out to this at Assault HQ. It’s good, but maybe it’s a bit beyond me intellectually. The over-arching themes of the album seem a bit too epic. I had this same feeling on their previous release A Beautiful Lie, and always found myself reaching for something a little more heavy, (like Rise Against). That said, This Is War has an even more epic feel to it than A Beautiful Lie, but I like it nonetheless.

Samples and soundscapes appear throughout the album that sound similar to the techniques the band employed in A Beautiful Lie, and at times overpower it–in my opinion, this is where the album falters a bit. Real bands with real instruments is something I’ve always believed, and while 30 Seconds to Mars has that element, there are times when it feels overproduced. In the opening track Escape, it’s welcomed because it succeeds with a chilling chant of “This is war” at the climax, but in the two closing tracks I felt like I was either listening to a Trevor Rabin/Michael Bay soundtrack or some sort of weird 80′s high fashion techno remix.

On the other hand, Kings and Queens, Vox Populi, This Is War, and Night Of The Hunter seem to have just the right blend of rock to keep me interested. By far Kings and Queens is still my favorite track on the album, but there are at least 4-5 comparable songs here, and that’s as good a ratio as you’ll find on one disc. I even liked listening to Hurricane, featuring my arch rival and nemesis Kanye West. (Though he sounds more like the auto-tuned singing from Brokencyde than he does Kanye.)

Overall, a solid album, and it will almost certainly be on my picks of the month for December.

Track Listing

1. Escape
2. Night of the Hunter
3. Kings and Queens
4. This is War
5. 100 Suns
6. Hurricane [feat. Kanye West]
7. Closer to the Edge
8. Vox Populi
9. Search & Destroy
10. Alibi
11. Strangers in a Strange Land
12. L490

Kings and Queens video (this is badass)

Like this band? You may also like Makeshift Prodigy from Chicago

A band I’m a huge fan of from Chicago, Makeshift Prodigy, (Link opens in iTunes) has a sound similar to this new album, and I’m quite a big fan of theirs. Check them out at their Official Website.

Even the fucking cover is boring.

When Editors’ new album In This Light And On This Evening opens with a wash of synths and not much else, it’s a pleasant surprise – their last record, An End Has A Start, was overblown and exhausting, constantly reaching for Snow Patrol heights but falling far short due to frontman Tom Smith’s over-dramatic singing and penchant for big, obvious lyrical gestures. So underplaying their delusions of grandeur gives them a nice lead. They unfortunately blow it, early and often, with lame arrangements and lamer stabs at lyrical abstraction. This is dance music you can’t dance to, overbearingly gloomy and devoid of fun.

Fun is a big, often overlooked factor in rock music; it’s actually kind of the whole point. Smith hasn’t caught on yet – he’s still acting like every syllable he utters is a Very Important Statement. This approach leads to some very awkward/funny moments, since 95% of the lyrics on Evening are pure bullshit. Do you know where he’s going when Smith offers sentiments like “If you give a dog a bone / He’ll eat for a day / But if you teach him to kill. . .”? Me either. Dude is grasping at straws for the album’s entire forty-three minute run time, which sounds brief but feels like forever since the nine tracks here average out at five minutes apiece. I don’t have ADD or anything, but when the song structures consist of a very simple beat (often sounding like a primitive Casio preset), the same keyboard line played the same way over and over again, and some amateurish guitar squiggles that sound like incidental music from Friday The 13th VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan, five minutes is a long fucking time.

Now, I don’t want to say that In This Light And On This Evening is repetitive, but you’d get more variety in a gumball machine. At least there you’ve got different colors, and they’re bright; Editors paint in only one color, and that’s the bleak gray of the Birmingham sky in winter. There’s no joy in this music, and for all the attempts to expand their sound and try on different styles, the band remains flatly derivative, without the playful spirit of true adventurers. At least their debut, The Back Room, aped a number of bands – a basic Joy Division foundation plus some early-R.E.M. jangle, powered by the surging rawk spirit of fellow British up-and-comers Bloc Party and Kaiser Chiefs. Evening, on the other hand, is a straight-up Sisters of Mercy cop. (I’ve heard New Order comparisons, but you could take drugs and have fun while listening to New Order. Not the case here.)

A few songs are flat-out weird enough to almost work: “The Big Exit” is so skeletal and morbid that it at least leaves an impression, and “Eat Raw Meat = Blood Drool” actually borders on forceful. But most everything else just drones. I can’t say I’m disappointed, exactly, as Editors lost me a long time ago. But it’s a shame that, with their third “new” direction in as many albums, they still haven’t struck upon anything singular or even interesting. In This Light And On This Evening is a coherent message, which is good, but that message is “We will never have an original idea, ever.” And that’s kinda bad.

A lot of people got excited when Led Zeppelin (kinda) reformed last year to play a benefit show. I didn’t. There’s nothing to be gained from a full Zep reunion – their catalog is almost flawless, and their legacy speaks for itself. Them Crooked Vultures, on the other hand, is a much more enticing proposition. Dave Grohl, the closest our generation has to a Bonham, teams up with super-charismatic Queens of the Stone Age frontman Josh Hamme and Zeppelin’s own secret weapon, John Paul Jones: this isn’t a supergroup, it’s a dream team.

Of course there’s always the possibility of this turning into some newfangled version of Damn Yankees (see: Audioslave), but I’m happy to report that Them Crooked Vultures’ self-titled debut is an awesome and essential slab of prime swamp rock. The reliably magnetic Homme has pulled Grohl and Jones deep into his scuzzy orbit; the record could easily pass for a new QOTSA disc, except it’s head-and-shoulders above everything those guys have done since Rated R. The twist is provided by Jones, who supplies his usual variety of textures and tones and lends the album a dynamic variety that makes it, even at a somewhat mellow-harshing seventy minutes, compulsively listenable throughout.

The basic format here is established right away: opener “Nobody Loves Me & Neither Do I” showcases everything that makes this band special: Grohl’s thundering fills, Jones’s background flourishes, Homme’s clever double entendres (“Don’t hold it against me / Unless it gets hard”). And the album steamrolls forward from there; most of the tracks settle in for five or six minutes, building atmosphere with circular, repetitive riffs and hypnotic rhythms. You probably won’t find a better record to simply get high and zone out to this year, but there’s some straight fun on offer too. “Bandoliers” and “Elephants” both take lumbering, Page-y riffs and slow them down to a crawl before exploding into righteous fury and then settling back down again; “New Fang” and “Mind Eraser, No Chaser” are pure punk blasts with delightfully sweet chorus melodies.

If you’re looking for a shot of Zep, “Scumbag Blues” would fit nicely on the first half of Presence, and “Reptiles” sounds like a sequel to “Trampled Under Foot.” Foo Fighters fans might be disappointed – Grohl doesn’t get any mic time – but people who still like getting blitzed and playing In Utero at full volume can really rejoice. Dude still has a special gift for running his shit and making it look easy; he drives every song here, probably with a grin on his face. And Homme is in especially fine form, too – his playing is creative and varied, with slinky, seductive lines giving way to master-blaster power chords giving way to masterful solos giving way to psychedelic freak-outs. Them Crooked Vultures always feel one step away from the edge – there’s just so damn much of it. But these guys earn the run time, building atmosphere and then blowing holes through it.

You already know if this is your cup of tea; all three personalities here are well-defined brands at this point, and the combustion that results when they’re in the same room should come as no surprise. The only real shocker here is how damn good these songs are. None of the thirteen tracks sound like leftovers, and spontaneity and song-craft carry equal weight. The musical touchstones are obvious, but here’s a visual: think about the astral ballet near the beginning of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001, with the massive spaceships gliding around, huge but still dwarfed by cold, dark space. Listening to this record, you start to get an idea of how those astronauts inside feel.

Pop-punk is one of the easiest genres to get wrong; the ingredients are simple enough that anyone can give it a shot, and fan expectations are famously low. That’s what makes the new Swellers record, Ups And Downsizing, so refreshing: these guys absolutely nail it. The songs are catchy, the riffs are chunky, and there’s enough wit present in the lyrics to satisfy the discriminating pop-punk fan. After undergoing numerous lineup changes and the usual amount of toil and trouble, The Swellers seem to be on the cusp of breaking out and getting the recognition they deserve.

The Swellers – Fire Away Video

Ups and Downsizing in Flint, Michigan

The Swellers prove they have the essential down pat right away; opener “2009″ finds singer/guitarist Nick Diener wallowing in the kind of new year’s misery that’s fueled great tracks in the past from Alkaline Trio and Motion City Soundtrack, although the tone here never slips into negativity or ugliness. And, though the riffs may be familiar enough, they keep circling around in interesting ways, dropping out and then coming back harder. This is the formula for most of Ups And Downsizing, and when it works, The Swellers make a case for themselves as a more masculine Paramore; this is friendly mall punk you can blast in your car without feeling like a teenage girl.

The Swellers consistently go deeper than the average pop-punk concerns; the title track features smart lyrics about the recession (the band is from Flint, Michigan, so they know a thing or two about economic downturn) and closer “Dirt” is an enjoyably vinegary missive aimed at anyone attending Dienen’s funeral. “Feet First” and “Stars” switch up the tempo; the former is a pretty standard ballad entry, but the latter runs six minutes and features a Slash-worthy guitar solo as it reaches its super-cathartic climax.

Ups And Downsizing is a big step forward for the Swellers; their previous full-length, My Everest, traffics in much of the same thematic and musical territory, but the delivery is more pungent and forceful this time around. The rest of the band is almost impossibly tight . Think Fall Out Boy’s Take This To Your Grave: Standard elements recombined in an interesting way, with some studio sheen to help the medicine go down but enough rawness to keep the energy popping. And the flawless rhythmic interplay on these songs showcases a precision that probably is only possible when it’s your brother on drums (Jonathan Diener handles the skins).

If you’re a fan of the typical pop-punk sound, Ups And Downsizing is worth more than just a listen. It’s worth memorizing as a textbook example of exactly how this stuff sounds when it’s done right. I’d place it in the mighty pantheon right alongside Alkaline Trio’s Goddamnit and Green Day’s Kerplunk, and that’s about as high of praise as you’re likely to hear around these parts. And, just like those records, telling your friends about Ups And Downsizing amounts to sharing a wonderful gift. I wouldn’t be surprised if, in twenty years, up-and-coming punk bands instructed their producers to “make it sound like the Swellers.” That’s how fine their command of pop-punk principles truly is.

The Swellers are opening for Less Than Jake at Metro on Tuesday, November 24; if you’re in the Chicago area, I highly advise you check these guys out. (Both myself and “Third World” Timmy will be at the show.) This is real, no-bullshit rock ‘n’ roll, and that’s a rare commodity these days. Buy tickets now!

More from the Swellers

• The Swellers Myspace
• The Swellers Twitter
• Nick Diener’s Twitter
• The Swellers on iTunes

Let It Beat, the second album from Malibu-bred rapper Shwayze, begins with a track that features, in no particular order: a bouncy, rubbery beat, a gang of sprightly horns, a guest appearance by Snoop Dogg, and a lyrical shout-out to Shwayze’s past gig “serving lattes all day in [his] Chucks.” If that sounds like something you’d like, you should probably give Let It Beat a few spins.

Following last year’s sleeper of a self-titled debut, Let It Beat offers a pleasant melange of familiar sounds that works more often than it does not, although my endorsement comes with a big caveat lector: there is very little new to be discovered here. Let It Beat will work as background music for your next rager, but spending serious time with it one-on-one might elevate certain flaws in the record’s sound from “slightly irritating” to “intolerable.” (And when I say “certain flaws,” I’m referring mainly to producer/sidekick Cisco Adler’s annoying tendency to ruin otherwise passable party jams by singing exactly like deceased Sublime frontman Bradley Nowell.)

But: Shwayze’s sophomore effort has many fine qualities, not the least of which is the rapper’s causal flow and propensity for gently amusing one-liners. The guy’s not exactly gonna knock Jay-Z from his throne, but for a disc that you could file, ostensibly, under “rap-rock,” the rap portion is actually pretty savory. Shwayze comfortably rides the line between, say, Nelly and Common – this is a party

record with some backpacker inflections, most notably the closing cut “Heart & Soul,” which spends five whole minutes chastising LA girls for lacking moral turpitude over twinkling piano from none other than the E Street’s own Roy Bittan. (No, seriously. Roy Bittan is on this record. So is Ric Ocasek.)

With the exception of that one song, however, most of these tunes encourage exactly that type of behavior – Shwayze wants you to meet him in the bathroom, he makes clear throughout the record, when he isn’t whimsically lamenting the vagaries of romantic relationships. “Get U Home” is the first single, and it’s a high-energy funk jam with a beat that almost sounds like PlaySkool Neptunes (and that’s not a complaint); “Wait All Night” is skeletal and super cool, until a stray guitar line wanders in and kinda kills the vibe. That’s a consistent problem throughout, you might find – anytime the rap side of the equation wins out, the result is frisky and fun, a welcome change of pace from the majority of urban music clogging up radio playlists. But on tracks like “Crazy For You,” “Daze Like This,” and “Perfect For Me,” all the coked up blips and bleeps are replaced with generic guitar-strumming and bland melodies purloined straight from 1996′s worst fake-reggae songs.

Which is not necessarily a dis, because Let It Beat isn’t aimed at rock fans. Adler has just mixed in surface rock elements that hip-hop fans can easily recognize and digest. So my opinion here shouldn’t necessarily sway you if rock isn’t your cup of tea – there’s just enough organic instrumentation here to officially set Shwayze’s sound apart, but not enough to distract from the real reason you came in the first place. In other words, you won’t confuse this with anything from Anticon or Definitive Jux – this is major label rap rock, and most of the time that means sounding like Sugar Ray (or, as on the horrific “Maneatrr,” some unholy alliance of Linkin Park and Lady Gaga.)

But, hey, a lot of people like Sugar Ray. And a lot of people will probably enjoy this. I did, and I don’t mean to sound like I didn’t. At least half the tracks here will get regular rotation on my Scrabble playlists because they’re the kind of easy, non-threatening music that’s conducive to focusing almost entirely on something else. Let It Beat is fun and melodic and oftentimes pretty cool; I wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to hang out with these guys. But is it going to change your life or challenge you in any way? Probably not.

Want to win a signed copy of the new Shwayze CD?

We’ve been lucky enough to hijack a signed Shwayze CD and poster that we’ve decided to give away to one of our Twitter followers!

When: Starting Monday, November 2 until November 13th at Midnight
Where: Twitter!

To enter:

1. Follow us on Twitter @assault
2. Tweet the message “Signed @Shwayze CD and poster giveaway! http://bit.ly/16wA3Q RT and Follow @assault To Enter!“
3. That’s it!

Already a follower? Just click the button below to have the Twitter message posted to your twitter account.

It’s difficult to know how to take a new Weezer record. (Opens in iTunes) Rivers Cuomo has piloted his gang of misfits through enough ups, downs, twists, and turns to kill your average nerd-rock outfit, but they’ve executed Raditude, their seventh record, with the kind of gleefully careless aplomb you don’t often see in 15-year veterans. These dudes have been making music as long as I’ve been seriously listening to it and so it’s a pleasure to report that, whatever your personal take on Weezer circa 2009, they still have the pop smarts, the dulcet melodies, and the bracing audacity that have defined their entire career. What you want to do with these gifts, once bestowed, is your own damn business.

Weezer - Raditude (link opens in iTunes)

“(If You’re Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To,” the record’s first single, captivates on first listen with a spare beat and some rhythmic acoustic guitar; Cuomo pairs this refreshingly simple backdrop with his most evocative lyrics since the emotional bloodletting of Pinkerton. He’s telling a story, which is nice, but he’s also fleshing it out with details and wit, which is even nicer. Then the chorus explodes, and you must choose your course of action: you can pout that this latest incarnation of Weezer’s sound doesn’t touch you the way the band’s earlier work did, or you can leave behind your preconceived notions about what a bunch of middle-aged dudes with mortgages and kids should be playing. I’m here to tell you, take the ride. Raditude is great fun.

The record is front-loaded, though not to the extent the Red album was. Cuomo handles the majority of the songwriting duties here, which is for the best – I’d rather have plane-crash-awful and embarrassing than generic. But the majority of Raditude, even when it devolves into the inevitable back-half filler, won’t disappoint anybody not specifically looking to be disappointed. “The Girl Got Hot,” “Tripping Down The Freeway,” and “I’m Your Daddy” all pulse with an innocence and energy that few other bands deliver this consistently, and the final stretch (culminating with “I Don’t Want To Let You Go” and “Turn Me Round,” two tracks that actually deliver on the promise that Weezer have spent their last four records actively trying to make you forget) ends everything on an extremely positive note. Raditude is the first thing Cuomo and company have released in ages that might make you excited to hear what they do next.

So where do they get into trouble? A lot of folks will probably point to the asinine Lil Wayne guest verse on “Can’t Stop Partying,” but that doesn’t bother me nearly as much the truly odd New Ageisms and Bollywood instrumentation of “Love Is The Answer.” The takeaway there is probably that these guys should stick to what they do best, but I’m fine indulging Weezer in a few skippable faux-experimental tracks than see them devolve back into the blandness that characterized the Green album and Make Believe. And while it’s a shame that the other members of the group don’t get to share the limelight more (beastly drummer Pat Wilson in particular, a man way more skilled than you’d guess were Raditude your only exposure to his playing), and while I surely miss the amped up metal riffs that have provided most of the excitement in the second half of their career, I’m willing to make a few concessions if I can get something as wickedly loose as “Let It All Hang Out” (which finds Cuomo bemoaning the economy and his “freakin’ jerk” of a boss).

Overall, the disc makes a strong case for Weezer as they actually are: four guys that won’t let go of their signature sound or their naivety, have tried to expand and experiment but found themselves adrift in sonic confusion, and that have ultimately decided to just go balls-out and enjoy the extremely weird trip they’ve found themselves on. This is the sound, in short, of a band committing. Love ‘em or hate ‘em, they just can’t be any other way.

Atreyu - Congregation of the Damned Album Art (Link opens in iTunes)

Based on the title and cover art alone, you might guess this is a new Slayer release. Unfortunately, you’d be wrong – Congregation Of The Damned (Opens in iTunes) is the fifth release from California’s Atreyu, and it’s another predictable-but-pleasing collection of shouty metalcore.

When we describe metal albums as “punishing,” that’s typically a compliment. But with Congregation of the Damned, the punishment comes in the form of the sugary choruses and symphonic twaddle that keep popping up, over and over again, to ruin what are otherwise pretty fierce tracks. The record begins with “Stop! Before It’s Too Late And We’ve Destroyed It All,” and the track showcases both the best and worst of Atreyu: lightning-quick guitar noodles and double-kick drums propel the track forward, but it races straight into its brick wall of a chrous. This pattern is broken only when the boys decide to slow it down and make sweet ear-love to you, and that’s when shit really gets awkward: album closer “Wait For You” is a ballad that would embarrass Aerosmith, while “Lonely” and “So wrong” are the kind of emo whiners that keep bands like Atreyu firmly in the Hot Topic ghetto.

Which is a shame, because there are moments of real brilliance here: “You Were King, Now You’re Unconscious” is the record’s centerpiece, and opens like “Raining Blood” with some cacophonous noise and a white-hot riff. But (and there’s always a “but” with this band) they get lost early into the five-minute runtime with another generically gruff chorus. And the title track has some nifty gang vox, but they’re in service of a lyrical conceit that doesn’t deserve to drive an entire record. Indeed, throughout the proceedings it seems as if lead singer Alex Varkatazas is on the verge of singing something worthwile that might connect the obvious themes running amok here, but that moment never comes; these are deep thoughts only half-thunk. So the boys fare much better when they drop the social commentary and just shred, as on “Ravenous,” the best track in a surprisingly strong back-half run of viciousness. This is the kind of stuff Atreyu should make their priority: it’s music for snorting coke in Sunset Strip bathrooms, and along with the powerful “Black Days Begin,” it offers some of the only real fun on the disc.

For forty-eight minutes, Atreyu stand at the cusp of brutality but consistently pull back just when it’s time to push forward: these guys stare at the void rather than driving straight into it. When they finally learn to trust their metal instincts and knock off the mainstream-baiting pop choruses, they might serve up some music worthy of their admittedly cool visual imagery.

America loves a comeback story, and Creed‘s is a doozy: after racking up huge sales, conquering the world, and becoming the critical community’s favorite punching bag, the band’s arrogance and stupidity finally caught up with them. Singer Scott Stapp spent two years as a painkiller-addicted tabloid fixture, and his reign at the bottom was replete with on-stage breakdowns and an extremely odd Kid-Rock-assisted sex tape. But now the band is back, and they’re ready to reclaim their place at the top of the charts. Is America really ready for more Creed? Or are the memories of the pain they inflicted with “Higher” still fresh? After listening to their new album Full Circle (opens in iTunes) for six long hours, I have returned with a verdict: Too soon.

I’ve never been a Creed fan, and Scott Stapp is the primary reason. This is true for the majority of people who love to loathe Creed: it’s not that we hate bombastic rock ‘n’ roll, and it’s not that we’re “too cool” to get on Stapp’s wavelength. The critical reaction to Creed functions as a knee-jerk response to lyrics so misguided that even on this, their ostensible apology to the fans, Stapp keeps asking us to align our sympathies with his alleged misfortune. Late in the record he admits he “made this mess [him]self,” but it comes after a solid forty minutes of tortured bloviating about his heart being tattooed on his sleeve. Listening to Creed is like putting a book about why bad things happen to good people on your nightstand.

To the band’s credit, the riffs on half these tracks are absolute face-melters. Having never owned a Creed album or listened to their music beyond the ubiqutious singles, Mark Tremonti’s fretwork comes to me as a delightful surprise. This kind of grungy sludge isn’t necessarily what I require for my own heaviness needs, but I’m also not theoretically opposed to it. When these guys stay away from the ballads, their music is awesomely bottom-heavy and rhythmic; I can totally understand the appeal of watching the band shake stadiums. But, unfortunately, ballads comprise precisely half of the album, and that’s when Creed starts running into trouble. Without the sound and fury of Tremonti’s power chords, Stapp’s woeful, sub-Vedder crooning is fatally exposed.

“Away In Silence” and “Rain” are the most blatant offenders – the playing is competent but unexciting, and the lyrics are downright repulsive. I’m all for Stapp’s comeupance, but I wish he’d saved the self-flagellation for his therapy sessions. Everybody knows exactly what kind of trouble the dude has been mired in for the better part of this decade so I don’t know why we need to rehash the details, in the most banal and clichéd manner possible, for fifty minutes. Furthermore, it’s tough to muster much pity when the guy basically opens the record by bellowing “I’m entitled to overcome!” I’m hard-pressed to figure out why, precisely, this guy feels entitled to anything now: Creed had a good run of hit singles, they sold over thirty million records worldwide, and Stapp’s infamous onstage martyr-pose fueled countless teenage girl masturbation fantasies. It’s not really our fault, as listeners, that Scott Stapp became addicted to various substances, acted like a moron, and lost a lot of money. The guy should take a cue from hip-hop, embrace the inherent drama of his status as a drugged-up diva, and have some fucking fun with it already.

In the end, Full Circle faces the same problem Creed has always faced: the pseudo-Christian sprituality that functions as a lynchpin of their mythology is also their undoing. Rock ‘n’ roll is devil music, and has been since time immemorial (or, at least, the 1950′s.) So until Stapp learns to stop whining and accept his inner Lucifer, a Creed record will never be a good time. Full Circle is a mostly turgid slog that occasionally livens up but ultimately can’t shake free of the two-hundred pound albatross standing front and center. And so, thirteen years after they first tasted mainstream success, Creed remain locked in a prison made of pomposity and frustration; they still can’t shake the shackles of shittiness.

The amount of enjoyment you get out of any Rammstein record depends primarily on your ability to ignore certain factors that define their sound. First, there’s the whole foreign-language thing: the lyrics are almost exclusively in the band’s native German. But that shouldn’t be a deal breaker – most heavy metal lyrics beg to be ignored anyway. Then there’s the creepy cabaret element that functions as a backdrop to all of their tunes. The band can pulverize with some truly explosive riffage, but, even at their most forceful, everything is accented with dance floor-ready keyboards. And finally, you gotta decide how you’re really gonna process this shit. A very German sense of sick humor fills the nooks and crannies of Liebe Ist Für Alle Da, and at points it can overwhelm what are otherwise quite striking compositions. So the question is: do you come to Rammstein to fulfill your basic headbanging needs, or do you view them primarily as a curiosity (albeit, an incredibly melodic and powerful one)?

I personally go both ways. I was introduced to Rammstein, along with pretty much every other casual metal fan, when their breakthrough hit “Du Hast” infiltrated MTV and radio in 1997. Since then, I’ve kept very loose tabs on the band – I got a lot of mileage out of Sehnsucht upon its initial surge of American popularity (especially after David Lynch used their music prominently in his film Lost Highway; a David Lynch connection is a very cool thing for any creepy-ass metal band to have), but the language issue – along with the fickle tastes of adolescence – prevented the kind of emotional connection from which true fandom is forged. So as they released new records over the years, I’ve taken note but mostly kept my distance. And that’s not going to change with Liebe Ist Für Alle Da. It’s a generally pleasing experience, and I can’t say I’ve been truly bored while listening to it the last few days, but there’s just too much pure novelty-for-the-sake-of-weirdness in the band’s attack for me to ever make them part of my regular listening diet.

For instance: the guys have included an English language track called “Pussy” on this record and it is, hands down, the worst thing I’ve heard all year. It’s sophomoric in all the wrong ways and the chorus (“You have a pussy / I have a dick / So what’s the problem? / Let’s do it quick”) just begs to be translated into any other language. I much prefer the amiably goofy French romp “Frühling In Paris,” which starts with some surprisingly gentle finger-picked guitar and a truly dulcet melody before exploding into the kind of sweeping chorus that tends to bust charts internationally. Since I’d rather assume these guys are joking around (and succeeding) than have them prove me wrong by dropping the language barrier, incomprehensibility accounts for much of the charm when the record really gets its odd mojo working.

“Rammlied,” for instance, kicks the record off with a swell of pure atmospheric synth cheese that any band without a sense of humor would never indulge in; lead singer Till Lindemann starts intoning weird shit that sounds extremely grave until he barks the band’s name and the big guitars kick in. (About those guitars, BTW: They often are so processed and manipulated that any sense of organic instrumentation is lost, and this is probably my favorite aspect of the record. The shinier and dancier this stuff is, the easier Lindemann’s constipated vocal approach goes down.) That pretty much sets the pattern for the rest of Liebe Ist Für Alle Da – they set the stage with absurdly gorgeous atmospherics and then offset all that beauty with huge riffs. It’s a good formula, as formulas go, but it’s only truly effective for about fifteen minutes at a time. Rammstein have cultivated a unique flavor that tastes best in bite-sized nuggets. I recommend that instead of purchasing the entire record, you hit the iTunes store and select any three songs at random (with the exception of “Pussy,” unless you’re into that kind of thing) and savor those for the cool, exotic rush they initially deliver.

Liebe Ist Für Alle Da is an accomplished and well-made record, especially for a band closing in on the second decade of their career, but it feels too lightweight to satisfy a real urge for heavy metal carnage and too off-handedly pervy for mass consumption. It’ll probably sell like hotcakes overseas, but with America experiencing a metal renaissance at the moment (spearheaded by truly innovative bands like Mastodon), I can’t imagine too many people stateside embracing the extremely foreign brand of schlock Rammstein continues to peddle.

Out Of Ashes, at first glance, seems superfluous – a side project from the voice of Linkin Park in 2009? This particular voice became the sole focus of LP’s musical attack once the inherent repulsiveness of the rap-rock genre became apparent even to its most successful progenitors a few years ago. So Out Of Ashes works from a familiar musical template: simple, crunchy riffs; snappily consistent 4/4 beats; and, of course, that voice.

Chester Bennington has forged a very distinct identity in the world of modern radio rock. While most of Linkin Park’s nu-metal peers take their vocal influences from either the pig-squeak Cannibal Corpse school or that rumbly, mush-mouthed baritone bastardized from Eddie Vedder’s cracked and vulnerable orginal, Bennington, by contrast, seems to have studied Anthrax’s John-Bush-era records. His voice is strong and steady, essentially high but coated in gravel. His greatest gift, though, is his ability to carry a strong melody; that is what sets any given Linkin Park anthem aside from the rest of the slop it’s smuggled between on radio playlists.

Out Of Ashes is bracingly melodic from start-to-finish; it begins with the relatively bright one-two punch of “Fire” and “Crawl Back In,” Both tracks lyrically address Bennington’s by-now-infamous self esteem issues, but they do it in the context of major key stadium rock. It’s a refreshing switch from the uniformly downbeat output of his other band, and one that figures prominently in Out Of Ashes overall success – every time a lowly angst-nugget like “Let Down” clogs the record’s flow, a stomper like “Condemned” is right around the corner to blast the proceedings back into high gear.

Bennington doesn’t do anything new on Out Of Ashes. The closest he comes to subverting the establish Linkin Park formula is the Phil Collins beat and moderate synth squiggles of “Let Down” or lightweight power-ballad “Give Me Your Name” (complete with Slash-esque, edge-of-the-cliff guitar solo). Elsewhere it’s business as usual, which means that people who love Bennington from his day job will flock in droves to hear this pleasant variation. It may not be groundbreaking, but if you come here looking for fresh musical ideas, you kind of deserve the disappoint. Out Of Ashes is a machine-tooled musical thrill ride, and the thrill comes from the factory precision with which these ingredients are scientifically combined. The outcome of the experiment is never in question, but that’s why this stuff sells.

That’s also why it works.

Choice Jams:
“Crawl Back In”
“Inside Of Me”
“My Suffering”
“Condemned”
“Walking In Circles“

By the time their last album dropped in 2006, most of Brand New’s early-aught emo peers had already flamed out on major labels and retreated to the warm embrace and low standards of Vagrant Records. The band makes it clear with their new record, Daisy, that they’re just now getting started. Following the heavy, multi-layered gloom of The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me, Brand New have rejiggered their formula yet again.

Album opener “Vices” begins with a snippet of gentle piano-driven gospel music before exploding into riffs sharper and more vicious than they’ve ever showcased. The album gets continually better from there, especially on repeated listens. Daisy is a difficult and complex record that must be absorbed before it can be fully appreciated — and like Brand New‘s past releases, it’s well worth the effort.

Daisy clocks in at an initially underwhelming 40 minutes. That brevity works to the band’s benefit. On an album this full of dynamic shifts and strange experiments, its welcome could have easily worn itself out if they pushed much further.

Instead Daisy is a compact and nuanced thrill ride, with nary a second of bloat. The band cranks up the amps and adrenaline on aggro showpieces one minute (see the riotously charging “Gasoline” for an example of how hard these fellas can hit) and then turn the heat down to simmer for “Bed” and the title track, which both remain relatively quiet while harnessing big power, threatening at any moment to lurch off track and become something else entirely.

Lead guitarist Vincent Accardi’s riffs have a spooky, bent quality — it sounds like he’s been studying early Modest Mouse records. That influence is never as obvious as during the two-minute interlude “Be Gone.” It’s nothing but a gnarled blues riff and some super-distorted vocals, but it’s one of the most distinctive and effective tracks the band has ever recorded.

Daisy is a rare beast in the oft-uninspiring alternative rock genre. It can clobber and caress in equal measures, and at no point does the band consider those qualities mutually exclusive. The experience is as pleasant as stroking a unicorn’s lustrous fur — and as shocking as having that same unicorn impale your heart with its horn. It’s serious business, and fans of sharp and innovative guitar rock should hope lead singer Jesse Lacey’s recent hints that the group might disband prove entirely false. I’m crossing my fingers there’s plenty more where this came from.

Tour:Smart and Break the Band by Martin Atkins, a must read for bands about to go on the road

I’ve never been in a band, and I’ve never been a producer or groupie, and I’ve never had what it takes to make it in a band. (Albeit my expert level singing and drumming skills on Rock Band) Lucky for those of you looking to embark on your first tour, there is an incredibly detailed guide on how to do it the right way. The book is called, Tour:Smart and Break the Band. The book was written by Chicago’s own Martin Atkins, and it outlines how to plan, manage and execute a successful tour on any level.

If you haven’t heard of Martin, you’ve surely heard of the bands he has played in including PiL, The Killing Joke, Ministry, and even Nine Inch Nails.

Without going to much into the details of the book,  (It’s nearly 600 pages!) let’s just say that the book covers every single aspect of touring, all the way down to groupies, alcohol, drugs, screen printing, and using spreadsheets! I was recently lucky enough to ask Martin a few questions about the biz, and his book via email.

Tim: I read a quote from you where you mentioned that education was the new thing that drives the creative fire in your mind — something along those lines. Can you tell me a little bit about your school and yourself? What made you decide to start it?

Martin Atkins: Well, I started playing drums when I was nine, started drinking Newcastle Brown Ale and backing strippers at 11 or 12! I joined PiL [Public Image Ltd.] in 1979, performed on the seminal Metal Box album and the next four or so with them over the next 5 years. Then Killing Joke, Ministry, Nine Inch Nails, Pigface, and Damage Manual. I started the label Invisible Records 20 years ago, built a recording studio, produced a bunch of stuff from Gravity Kills to Skinny Puppy; then, started teaching, went to China, made a documentary, and realized that the book they were using at Columbia for the Business of Touring class was written in 1962! So, I wrote Tour:Smart, then started to revamp a bunch of the courses there. Applied Marketing was a ton of work, but I’m really pleased with the results. I’m working on Band:Smart, the sequel to Tour:Smart, and another 16 days in China amongst many, many other things — and I have four young boys!

I decided to start the school because I saw a need for real world stuff in the classroom. I pitched the people at Columbia several times on allowing me to just bring all of my businesses up there: Label, book publishing, studio, music publishing, film production and all of that — but they didn’t seem to think it was a good idea. So, like I usually do, I just did it! Education — or, more correctly, the relationship and the conundrum of trying to show people an unexpected spark — really gets me going. I’ve loved teaching since the moment I started and I love trying to make my lectures entertaining — otherwise what’s the point?

The possibilities within this are huge and I find myself very excited to see what the future holds.

Tim: Your book is one of the most comprehensive guides I’ve ever read — of any kind. If you could write a second book, what would it be about? Post economic meltdown/apocalyptic zombie outbreak touring for dummies?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzNjmIWbns4

MA: Well thanks! I have nearly finished Band:Smart and, along the way, I’ve put 12,000 words down for the Killing Joke book and I’m working on the PiL one, and a new cool marketing book, too. I do need to get on the Zombie bandwagon, though!

Tim: What are a few of the indicators that it’s time to go on a band’s first nationwide tour? Should they be making money already locally? Should they have a good seed of money saved up?

MA: I think bands should let this stuff evolve organically. Get out to the next set of cities 20, 40 miles out — where fans might travel to see the larger shows; see the five-pointed star inward facing crush strategy! Keep heading out of town in a flower petal pattern. I like to say, “Returning home just in time to fall asleep at their day job!”…but seriously, that’s how hard you need to push it.

Don’t give up your day job until you are on the point of getting fired. And yes, a band should be able to go from a show with 10 people to 40 to 100 to 200 — something like that. If you can’t do that in amongst your local markets, then what makes you think you can do it 400 miles from home where you don’t know anyone? Can’t score any deals or free beer or a bunch of free copies because your mate works at Kinkos, ditto Starbucks etc., etc.

Tim: One of the most profound parts of the book Tour:Smart to me was the fact that running a tour was just like running any small business. The one item that stuck out to me was the use of spreadsheets! How important is it to be organized and keep track of your finances and information when running a tour or a small business?

MA: Well, it’s important — and it definitely fits into that category of not magic, but attention to this stuff enables more crazy magic to happen. For instance, when you start to track random crazy stuff, you learn — let’s say in the case of the sizes of the shirts you have sold. Maybe when you look at the information after 30 shows, you realize that the only size of shirts you sell are L and XL. So, you can stop making the dozen or so small and mediums that you have been wasting money on. Small stuff like that really start to add up.

Same thing with the guest list: Put it on a spreadsheet and take a printer out on the road with you. You can alphabetize and pump up the size of the font at the last minute to make sure — or try to — that there isn’t a problem. Easy shit to avoid, costly and time consuming to try and repair.

Tim: What advice would you give to a band that has a member that is “holding the band back”?

MA: Fire their ass immediately, or give me their phone number now and I’ll do it for you. There is so much working against you that if you know something isn’t right, you have to take care of it — because, rest assured, there are 10 other things fucking up your chances that you don’t know about.

Tim: If there was one gig that a band must take and one that they should avoid at all costs what would they be?

The venue that is too large: Don’t persuade yourself that you are big enough to fill it — you aren’t!

And the show for no money on a rainy Tuesday night at the last-minute because another band needs the help — and to borrow half of your equipment, and as many members of your audience as they can — and can you help with their van? And can they sleep at your house? But there’s no money and you have to play at 6:30 and don’t get a sound check — and you could pack that place on your own. If someone blesses you with the opportunity to do them a really big favor — then do it! This is a small world and what goes around, comes around — for sure.

Tim: What are your top three must do’s for a band trying to get exposure? Having an electronic press kit? Playing as many shows as possible? Having a quality EP? Merchandise?

MA: Err, you got it. And remember that free is the new black — give stuff away, treat your fans like they were your best friends — they are!

Tim: You had a great entry in Tour:Smart about getting sponsorships. Do you have any advice for companies trying to get their clothing to musicians they align their brand with? Is it a sound investment for smaller companies?

You have to be careful, but — as I say to bands — free is the new black. I have a bunch of ideas for you, but if you target national acts halfway through their tour and show up with some free — and clean! — shirts, then you will be heroes and the band and crew will wear your stuff for the next week!

Affliction put special, nice pillowcases on all of the pillows in Austin for South by Southwest. That was cool, and probably cost a bit, but there are ways to accomplish stuff like that without breaking the bank.

Tim: With Assault, we measure down to the penny sometimes with what we spend our money on. We try to do everything that we possibly can ourselves — see photography, web design, shirt design, accounting, SEO + online marketing, blogging, etc. etc. If there is an expense that’s worth paying for for bands playing relatively often on the local scene, what would it be?

MA: OK, in certain circumstances a buy on to a larger show can be a great idea — it can also be the worst waste of money. But, once again, if a band keeps good records of their sales and attendance — not how many people you wish were at the show, but the real numbers — then you can extrapolate and make decisions based on better facts rather than no facts.

I don’t mean this to sound like a plug for me — because I’m silly busy anyway — but a few bands have brought me in for a few hours or a day to really analyze what they are doing and consult to them on what they are doing right and wrong. Sometimes they are surprised when I call them out on some rock star bullshit or studio elitism stuff, or just their fears. I get to reinforce the good ideas, accelerate them, pour gasoline on them — and put ice down the pants of the insane, distracting shit that many bands surround themselves with, immerse themselves in. And, compared to losing everything — your love of music, your credit rating, your friends, your van and your partner — I’m cheap as fuck!

Tim: If there was one or two careers that would really help you supplement a career in music — as most parents would want for their aspiring musicians — what would it be? I wrote a post on this a while back and someone suggested “car mechanic” — I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t thought of that.

MA: Yeah, mechanic is great. Studio person, logistics, web, PR, screen printing — anything — welding, culinary, all of that stuff comes in handy. Xbox modding, hair cutting, tattoo — it’s all great shit and the more skills, the more chances you have of tapping into a new audience and involving them in your music.

Tim: Of all the touring you’ve done, which tour was the most fun and why?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=CTs5SoOteQQ

MA: Well, it seem like it’s the ones from way back. PiL across the USA in 1981 when we did American Bandstand — they still play it in Europe! I was very young and drunk, and speeding through most of it. I had no clue how much it all cost — none of us did really — but, 30 years later, it seems like it was fun.

Parts of Ministry was fun. Lots of Killing Joke. From a drumming point of view, I was at the height of my game — I did Pigface, Nine Inch Nails, Ministry, Killing Joke and Murder, Inc. all in a mad two-year period. I was drumming all the time.

Pigface was just fantastic in the breadth of the onstage experience: Sitars, cello, harp, belly dancers — Danny Carey from Tool!

I liked touring Europe with Killing Joke — Madrid, Barcelona — oh yeah! — and Japan and Australia.

I guess, every minute of it was terrific! Why, well, someone else — mostly — paid for it. And I’ve forgotten all of the horrible mind-numbing horror!

Tim: What’s the weirdest thing that ever happened to you while you were on tour?

MA: A guy came onstage with a shopping cart all hooked up with pickups and all this mad stuff. We [Pigface] were all really excited. It sounded like a shopping cart! I nearly pissed my pants onstage.

Tim: Of all the skills you mention in Tour:Smart — screen printing, learning HTML, accounting etc. — which proves to be the most valuable in putting together a tour for your band?

MA: You need every single one of them. You can split them up between the band members — that’s a great idea — but you need them all, and more!

Tour:Smart by Martin Atkins, a must read for bands about to go on the road

I HIGHLY recommend Martin’s Book, Tour:Smart: And Break the Band, to anyone who’s in a band. The book includes insight from other musicians, tour managers, producers, sound technicians, booking agents, and just about anyone and everyone involved with the music industry. The book also features guest chapters from Henry Rollins, and Chris Connelly.

I’d also check out the Tour:Smart Plus weekend events going on in October. (Check out the first Tour:Smart Plus Weekend wrap up here.) Martin’s school is called Revolution Number Three which you can check out at their Official Website.

If you’d like to keep up with Martin, or talk to him via the internetzzzz you can @reply him on twitter via @marteeeen. Ask him what he thinks about girlfriends, bacon salt, music, word of mouth marketing, and just about anything else!

Almost two months ago, Assault had the honor of being reviewed by Buy-Tees.net.  After reading what came from that review, I felt compelled to dig in on the mind of Paul, co-owner and main contributor at Buy Tees.  I was very impressed with both the writing style and in-depth review of the art itself, rather than just a bland t-shirt review.  If you aren’t familiar with their site, I recommend you BEG Paul to check your stuff out; he has this uncanny ability to actually tell you things about your work that you may not have known.

I had the honor of interviewing him to try and get a little insight into what drives him, enjoy!

First and foremost, what is buy-tees.net?

Hmm… well I suppose the clue is in the name heh. It’s a t-shirt reviews blog first and foremost–although it’s probably not quite like any other you’ve read. I do have a tendency to quote the world and his wife and just about every homespun philosophy imaginable when I get cracking on a review. I am probably what you’d call a ‘natural blogger’ – I’m from a creative background in both the fine arts and literature and so I suppose it made sense to hone my abilities by venturing into blogging. It just so happens that I use the excuse of t-shirt reviews to express my opinions to the world.

What drove you to start it?

There are two answers to this. The first was simply to promote a few of my own t-shirt designs, way back when I’d decided to set up my own independent t-shirt label, I was sick of the enormous profits and poor service that many major print-on-demand sites were offering and so I thought I’d have a bash. Promoting the label was a total nightmare, besides which the overall costs of setting up a label were beyond my reach at the time and so I thought a blog would save on marketing costs and be a good way of drumming up business. The second reason came along within a week or two of blogging. Essentially, I found that a lot of other designers were in the same proverbial boat – vis-a-vis they also hadn’t two pennies to rub together and needed quality sources of promotion and marketing without the extortionate expense of traditional advertising such as Adwords or hiring an SEO expert. So I filled the gap, featuring designers’ work in return for a back link to the blog.

I know buy-tees.net is made up of yourself and another silent partner; is there anyone else that is part of the team?  Do you ever have guest posts and if so, how do you go about selecting the individual?

Short answer no – I have had offers – although for the main part they’re rather self-promotional in the main. I’m not exactly an objective reviewer myself, I am however an artist and so I know when I see something conceptually or visually superior and that always urges me on when it comes to deconstructing the mindset or ethos of a brand/designer. I’m also not ‘in it for the money’ as they say – I make a few dollars from the odd banner now and again but it doesn’t even cover hosting most of the time.

I have always enjoyed the company of artists, whatever medium they may choose to specialize in – it just so happens that I believe t-shirt design has until recently been treated as a rather lowly distant cousin of say illustration or graphic design and thought it’d be rather satisfying both personally and for the arts community at large if someone could give this niche a boost.

My partner helps out with some administration of the site from time to time and we discuss our reactions to designers’ work, we like to bounce ideas off of each other and see if there’s anything more I can add to the review than the usual ‘pic and click’ offerings out there.

How did you go about setting up your site, and what tips/suggestions can you give to others?

In truth I’d say exactly the same thing now as I always have, if you enjoy what you do, if you take pride in your work, if you can offer something truly original in whatever form the world will slowly rub its eyes, stand up and take notice of what you’re doing. There are plenty of options out there for marketing but I’m not the best person to ask, I am not a marketing expert, I simply enjoy being creative and sharing the results.

I designed the blog myself, I suppose I could revamp it but ‘if it ain’t broke why fix it?’ There are plenty of gorgeous looking sites out there with very little to say or offer, no matter what niche they cover, it’s funny how people make a distinction between the online and offline world.

Salespeople annoy me, they are for the most part impatient, desperate to sell their wares and rarely listen to their prospects views and opinions. I’ve actually worked for a few major companies in a marketing capacity (many of whom probably rather I hadn’t) and they all seemed to make the same common mistake, forgetting that the public consists of millions of individuals, each with their own way of seeing and doing things. The only thing I have learned about marketing this last year is that excitement is infectious, if you can share the thrill of what you do then others will want to as well.

What sets buy-tees.net apart from the many other resource sites/blogs out there?

When I first set up Buy Tees almost every t-shirt reviews blog out there knocked out posts with a title, a photo, a price and a link. They may not like to admit it but I’ve seen a lot of those very same blogs turn my way, almost all of them will now,  at some point or other, wax lyrical about a designer or label. I am of the opinion that if you can’t pour your heart and soul into what you do why bother?

I have received so many emails from designers thanking me for helping them reach the next level of success, for saving a brand, even reinventing one that I can’t keep track anymore. I suppose the biggest difference, without wanting to sound arrogant, is me. I am different, I am an artist and I need constant sources of inspiration and so it’s a two-way street, creative people contact me, ask for my opinion or help and I, for the main part, am glad to help. You could call it a calling, or perhaps that’s a little over dramatic, but it certainly adds something special to my life.

You appear to get very personally involved in each of your reviews.  What approach do you take when reviewing a brand or particular shirt?

I can’t say there’s a formula, I’ve always been good at ‘reading people’, I don’t mean I am some kind of psychic, I don’t tell fortunes or read tarot, I just understand basic human motivation, especially when it comes to creative outlets such as t-shirt design. It’s as if I sit down and look at a body of work and imagine I have created the tees in front of me, then I work out why, where the inspiration came from, and how well it has been conceptually resolved.

I do have a habit of making up my own layman’s terms for things and this I’d call ‘logical progression’. You take things, no matter what they are, one step at a time, a creative mind follows a pattern, built up over years of experience, interactions, events, actions. If you for instance had been a backpacker for the last decade I’d expect a lot of cultural reference in anything you did, an openness to new experiences, an understanding of geo-political and historical boundaries, a longing for freedom, a zest for adventure. That would show in any creative outlet you pursued. I suppose I’ve specialized in ‘what makes people tick’ and try to connect with them personally through my opinions of their work.

Being creative is rewarding, connecting with other creative minds is probably as exciting as it gets for me.

I am very impressed with your writing form and style; do you have a background in literature?

Thanks, I have to admit I do get quite a bit of praise for my writing style which even now surprises me. I write the way I talk, which yes, must be exhausting for everyone involved. My mother was an English teacher, she taught me to read and write within the first few months of my life.

I’m the guy at the party at the end of the night, when you’re trying to get everyone to go home, who just won’t shut up.

I did write a screenplay once, it was almost accepted by Fox Searchlight in the mid 90s, they decided against it in the end saying it was too hot to handle, imagine The Matrix with more body parts and you’re half way there. I actually trained in conceptual arts at college, don’t ask, it’s all twaddle, but the tutors did force us to justify everything we created, however absurd the reasoning, and so I got into the habit of deconstructing everything and everyone around me until I felt I was about to burst – hence the outpouring of opinion at the slightest opportunity.

Are you involved in any other sites other than buy-tees?  If so, what?

Yes, I’m an artist, you can visit my site at http://paulbaines.co.uk – there’s also my arts blog at http://paulbaines.co.uk/category/blog where I review other contemporary artists. I’ve recently been approached by a major arts publisher who wants to feature my designs in a student textbook for illustrators which quite surprised me as I’d never considered I was an illustrator – but there you go.

I work on rather a large scale, at the moment I’m offering digital prints up to 44″ x 55″ in size however I’m in the midst of creating my own silk screen print studio and will be hand printing limited edition signed and numbered A1 prints by the end of summer if all goes well. It’s hard to explain my work, you will probably either love it or hate it. I have a few ties with the UK graffiti movement, I’m also hoping to have a few outlets and galleries selling my work by the end of the year.

Where do you see buy-tees heading from here?

Who knows? I was recently offered a very tidy sum for the blog, a major t-shirt producer wanted to buy it, and keep it as an archive which was very tempting and rather flattering. However I’d had so much feedback asking that I continue I didn’t have the heart to sell up. So what does the future hold? I really couldn’t say, perhaps it’s time for a t-shirt book? In the long term if the art career really takes off I will have to find a worthy successor, if not I will probably continue to review t-shirts until I drop. Either way it will be an exciting ride!