BLOODY RED BARON
early June reviews
by Mike Baron
LAURIE BIAGINI: Sanctuary of Sound
Drawing inspiration from the Beach Boys and surf music in general Vancouver’s Laurie Biagini has forged an addictive sound that is part tart, part sweet and pure imagination. Utilizing flattened notes on every song she weaves a hypnotic spell suitable for surfing, cruising and grooving. All of her influences are on display in the anthemic “Rise Up” which weaves together Brill Bdlg. pop, the Rolling Stones, Michael Brown and the Beach Boys. “Run to the Sun” is the closest you’ll hear to a new Beach Boys song, right up there with Jeffrey Foskett’s “Through My Window,” but from an earlier period.
“Springtime of My Mind” has a Band meets Jan & Dean vibe with that irresistible flattened chord while “Two Of a Kind” recalls Ronnie and the Daytonas. But it’s all original, and it builds momentum as it unrolls. Biagini is a One Man Band and plays virtually every instrument herself save for a couple of guest guitar solos. Her piano playing is superb as is her drumming. Top Ten contender.
Four and a half stars.
DRINK A TOAST TO INNOCENCE: A Tribute to Lie Rock
Charming and irresistible, this hefty compilation resurrects often banal, sometimes heinous earworms of the seventies and eighties, recasting them in a power pop vein. The contributors read like a who’s who of modern power pop, beginning with Michael Carpenter’s symphonic “We Don’t Talk Anymore.” David Myhr casts his magic over “The Things We Do For Love” and makes it his own. Kelly Jones turns “I’d Really Love To See You Tonight” into a gossamer delight while Eytan Mirsky reinvents “The Pina Colada Song” with his muscular voice. Mike Viola finds the Doobie Brothers in “Steal Away” and seals the deal with a quote from “What A Fool Believes” on the outro.
Greg Pope aims his superb dynamics at “Crazy Love.” Lannie Flowers might have written “Dance With Me,” it falls so neatly into his style. Every song gleams. Other contributors include Seth Swirsky, Bleu, Vegas With Randolph, Cliff Hillis, Willie Wisely, Throwback Suburbia…in other words a Who’s Who.
Four stars.
www.monstersoflite rock.com
CORIN ASHLEY: New Lion Terraces (Murray Hill)
Corin Ashley, former bass player for the Boston-based Pills, is a lover of classic pop as evidenced by the title of his previous solo album: The Brill Bedroom. Ashley drops big, effortless hooks like The Sun Sawed in 1/2 and Stephen Lawrenson, worships the Beatles and recorded a lot of New Lion at Abbey Road Studios. The bowed saw on “Geez Louise” sounds like a theramin before the song grabs you by the throat. “Sgt. Sunshine” is in all ways Beatlesque, filled with soaring melodic invention, with the segue into “Mesmerize” like a shot of caffeine. “Badfinger Bridge”–truth in advertising, solid and graceful as the Golden Gate. When he goes simple, as on “God Shaped Hole,” his warm contralto and guitar playing bowl you over. “Second Hand Halo” has a Squeeze/Crowded House vibe. This one will appeal to everybody.
Four and a half stars.
BRYAN SCARY: Daffy’s Elixir (Paper Garden/Lava Slope)
Record company problems have kept this from wide release as a CD, although it has been available for a year as a download. Daffy’s Elixir is a cracked masterpiece, an enormous, sprawling, hugely ambitious rock opera that may or may not be about manifest destiny. It has a Western theme, beginning with the addictive “Wicked Frontier” employing Scary’s loping Western piano. Over seventy minutes of music like a raft ride down the Colorado after a wet winter with rapids ranging from ripples to Class 5. As always, Scary employs constant change-ups in rhythm, melody and harmony, expertly mixing major and minor chords, mesmerizing through sheer density. It’s like triple chocolate cake–you can savor a bite or two but to eat the whole thing at one sitting takes determination. Still, who else overreaches like this?
Scary draws inspiration from the Beach Boys to Queen to the Who to Yes–Daffy is over-the-top pretentious, but rock is perhaps the only art form in which it is impossible to be too pretentious. As a singer he is more than up to the task, channeling more than a little Freddie Mercury. The presentation is stellar–an artificially aged chapbook with sepia pages beautifully illustrated by Vern Incognito and enough lyrics to choke Michael Chabon. This might have been better had it been thinned out a little, or offered as two discs but it would be churlish to complain about its lack of riches. I hope Scary gets a mass market copy out there soon.
Four and a half stars.
