For a little over a year and a half, I got free CDs by writing album reviews for Houston-based e-zine Space City Rock. Here’s a sample; you can view all of my reviews on the SCR website here.

• Tiny Masters of Today
  Skeletons
  July 2009
  
  

  When I was in middle school, my musical abilities could be summed up by a few stagnant years of piano lessons and proud ownership of first chair in the band’s trumpet section. When the Tiny Masters of Today were in middle school, on the other hand, David Bowie was calling their music “genius.” Brooklyn-based siblings Ada and Ivan — now 13 and 15, respectively — are truly something unique. With the help of Garageband, they write, play, record, and produce their own songs. Their latest release, Skeletons, is proof that not only do they understand their own musical strengths and limitations, but that they are capable of calculated restraint that’s not often exercised by far more experienced musicians.

  If I had to sum up Skeletons in a singular thought, it should be that these kids really know how to have fun with their songs. “Drop the Bomb” is an explosive album opener, marked by phrases of crunchy, rhythmic snippets alternating with smooth, almost calming guitar lines. “Drop the Bomb” sets the tone for the rest of the album’s sound: equal parts gritty industrial and sugary pop. But “Two Dead Soldiers” is when TMoT really kicks it into gear, with charming wordplay and a repeated call-and-response that’ll stay in your head for days: “Can you hear me, Brooklyn?” / “Yahhhhhh!” / “Can you hear me, Brixton”? / “Yahhhhh!” “Real Good” is another infectious track, lumping together serious sing-along-ability with some of the most squawking guitar you’ve ever heard.

  Towards album’s end, the energy dwindles a notch or two; “Big Bass Drum” seems like part two of “Big Stick,” and “Understandable Honesty” and “Abercrombie Zombie” fall into lackluster sloppiness. Regardless, Skeletons is an impressive feat, expanding on an already-developed signature sound and showing off an innate sensibility for hooks and melodies. Not bad for a couple of full-time students who still have to spend their Autumn and Spring days in public school classrooms.

• Starlite Desperation
  Take it Personally
  December 2008
  
  

  Was it around 2003 when there was an explosion of bands reviving the ’70s bluesy garage-pop thing? Well, the Starlite Desperation has that sound down to a T, and if they had released Take It Personally five years ago, they would have been at the forefront of that movement. Today, though, they just sound late, part of the remaining traces of a limp musical pulse that probably shouldn’t have flourished as long as it did.

  It’s pretty difficult to get past the album’s utter genericness. The obvious dirty riffs and handclaps on “Spirit Army” would have made the song a perfect substitute for the horribly overplayed Jet song on that iPod commercial with the spastic silhouette, and you’ll swear you’ve heard the main hook to “My Favorite Place” before because slightly modified versions of it can be found just about anywhere.

  The Starlite Desperation does find some redemption, however, in their creepier-sounding songs. The macabre punk-plucking of “My Violin” is intriguingly sinister, and “I Lost my Bees part 2″ has sort of a dizzying effect, a perfect soundtrack to someone’s downward spiral. The chaotic closer “Don’t Wait Till After You Die” blends together sprawling, abrasive guitar and flat-out danceable bass lines into something genuinely admirable. Though Take It Personally’s high points aren’t enough to enthusiastically recommend the album, the glimpses of substance should at least keep the band on people’s radar.

• The Grand Archives
  s/t
  May 2008
  
  

  The Grand Archives is the latest project from Mat Brooke (Band of Horses, Carissa’s Wierd [sic]). The Archives’ self-titled debut prides itself on being light-hearted and uplifting, and indeed, it’s the audio equivalent of a sunny, cloudless day. Seriously, there isn’t an unpleasant note on the whole album. This is great — if perpetual sunshine is your thing, that is.

  The opener, “Torn Foam Blue Couch,” is textbook feel-good, built on steadily driving percussion and jangly guitar. Soaked with sweetness and mild melancholy, Brooke’s airy vocals are paralyzingly comforting. The bliss then cools down a bit with “Miniature Birds,” a mellow yet bouncy track. It starts with a whistled melody over harmonica, and the verses have the perfect hint of discordance. The song then ends with a couple of horn breaks, channeling Beulah at their best. Careful craftmanship continues throughout the album: see the washy guitars on “Swan Matches”; the harmonica and bells on “George Kaminski”; the dragging pedal steel in “A Setting Sun”; and the strings a bit before the halfway mark of “Sleepdriving.”

  In spite of the album’s many notable high points, though, there’s something exhausting about it all; as easy as the songs are to like, they’re just as easy to get tired of. Like the Coldplay-ish reverb-y guitar riff that begins “Index Moon,” the album overall feels like a string of stuff you’ve heard already, and a lot. The only track that really catches you off-guard is the excellent “Breezy No Breezy,” an instrumental which comes across as warm and creepy, like a present-day Western. The overwhelming emotional weight of the songs, however, detracts from the genuinely solid songwriting that Brooke is clearly capable of. There’s nothing wrong with music seeming familiar, but it shouldn’t bore you, too.