Grand Mal - Bad Timing
One of my personal faves from the last decade. Bill Whitten's previous band, St. Johnny, were capable of great sleazoid tunes like "Pin the Tail on the Donkey", but too often appeared to mistake purposely annoying for musically challenging. That unfortunate propensity followed him to the initial releases by his more straightforwardly rockin' Grand Mal project. 1999's
Maledictions, for example, contained some great glam rock concoctions like "Out on Bail", but dissipated that sporadic energy by wallowing mostly in melody-deprived slacker noisefests. But with
Bad Timing Grand Mal jumped that glam beast and nailed it to the floor. The lyrics make the band's intent plain by slyly referencing both the Only Ones' Peter Perrett and the Stooges' "Rock Action", and listeners who don't need footnotes to understand those particular namedrops will find much to enjoy. Whitten's main stroke of genius amounts to combining the wasted vibe and lazy riffing of
Exile on Main Street with the sultry boogie sensibility of T.Rex. The resulting hybrid replaces glam androgyny with a kind of macho fatalism that sounds immediately familiar, though trust me, glam rock never sounded like this. But it should have.
Gingersol - The Train Wreck Is Behind You
Hard to describe, Gingersol sounds to me like what might have happened if the Replacements had been fronted by Elliott Smith instead of Westerberg. There's a warm, fuzzy Teenage Fanclub-esque jangle to most of the tunes, and vocalist Steve Tagliere's rasp delivers a wealth of subtle hooks.
The EveryothersThe Everyothers were the last band Mick Ronson worked with before his death, so maybe these glittery punks earned their Bowie fixation honestly. On this album they sound like
Aladdin Sane mulched through a Foo Fighters filter, with a clutch of songs that enliven any mix tape. Follow-ups never matched this one.
Veal - Embattled Hearts
The last Veal album before leader Luke Doucet went off on his solo career.
The Embattled Hearts finds Veal streamlining their sonic wanderlust into a more consistent identity (weirdo instrumental "Defiler" and slight ditty "Toothbrush" notwithstanding). They're now a classic indie-rock band, or maybe an indie classic-rock band, with hummable melodies and honest-to-god guitar riffs featured front and center. Even still, Doucet's songs seldom go in the direction you expect. And when they do, it's because he's trained you rather than the other way around. And if he teaches you to sit and fetch as well, just consider that a bonus.