October 3, 2012

Low Cut Connie is one of an increasingly rare breed: a party band, a bar band, a band with a sense of rock 'n' roll history that isn't weighed down by nostalgia or the foolish feeling that music was better way back when. Positive fellows, for the most part, even when they're in their cups, these guys "say yes," as the title of one song goes, to a life in music. Oh, and they're also trying to get women to say yes to their craven come-ons.

Adam Weiner sings in a nasal sneer that's really a leering grin in disguise. He's the band's most ostentatious showman; see the band in concert and he'll be the one executing Jerry Lee Lewis hammerings on the piano, leaping onto the bench to emphasize a particularly insistent chord. Meanwhile, Dan Finnemore writes and sings the songs, which partake of a '60s British Invasion sense of harmonics.

Even bar bands get the blues, of course, and with Low Cut Connie, such moments sound like hangover cures set to music. Take "Stay Alive If You Can" from the band's second album, Call Me Sylvia, in which Weiner gets morose while summoning up a James Dean/Rebel Without a Cause landscape of self-regard and despair.

Where the band's debut album, Get Out the Lotion, was the sound of guys rocking out and hoping someone's listening, the attention it got them has thrown them back on themselves, forcing them to take stock of their chosen path. The result is that they're already chafing a bit at still playing small clubs and not rolling in dough; you can't get much more explicit about that than writing a song called "Pity Party." And, toward the end of the album, Weiner follows an eccentric, stream-of-consciousness rant called "No More Wet T-Shirt Contests" with a morose, profane, quiet ballad called "Dreams Don't Come True." But, hey: "That's life, baby," to quote Weiner in that song. Besides, there's always the distinct possibility of bigger crowds, more fans and a chance to move out of your parents' basement. Right?

The first thing that come to mind when listening to “Family And Friends”, the opening track of Home, is Nick Cave & The Magnetic Zeros. The folk element really informs the storytelling of each track. Singer John Rossiter’s baritone delivery and phrasing are similar to that of Cave or Ian Curtis but he can also croon and scream to equal effectiveness. Each member of Young Jesus deliver great performances on the LP. The guitars of Rossiter and Cody Kellogg are intricate and not overbearing. “David,” is a stand-out track and a wonderful tribute to such an awesome name, which comes up again later in the album on the Pixies-ish beginning of “The Greater Boulders,” and “Earthquake,”.

I’m just going to say it. I love “New Cool,”. The rhythm section is the lifeblood of the track and it reminds me of an actually joyous Joy Division. The band turns on the distortion on “Away,” and the results are wonderful. The title and closing track turns the dial down again with only a piano and vox to carry the weight. It is the perfect farewell and serves as a loving obituary to the album. Home itself is electric without being overly energetic or, well, electric. It’s exciting and eclectic and probably more adjectives that begin with “e”. Emotive! Another one! In our jaded times, Young Jesus proves that Home can be where the heart is.