"TV or Not TV" is the lead track off of Planeterrarium, the third release from Boulder's Rhino2Rhino, and its title and lyrics are a good indicator of things to come. The song seems to assume the perspective of a child television star existentially coming to terms with the medium that birthed him. Of course, that might be a complete misreading, as the lyrics, amusing but cryptic as they are, defy easy interpretation: "Those were the days of wine and roses/I never sat through mass deceiving the masses/Still, you shaped your existence by watching me/Or was it me, learning to be from watching you?" Throughout the release's ten tracks, vocalist/bassist Andy Harrington serves as a kind of master of ceremonies for a lyrical carnival of sounds and styles. With heavy use of three-part vocal harmonies and lots of overdubs, the band plays with everything from dance-hall reggae to a Beach Boys-ish approach to composition. There's an inverse Ben Folds Five quality here. While Folds is known to deliver ironic or matter-of-fact observations against a backdrop of grand music, Rhino2Rhino pairs semi-serious subject matter with easy, back-porch barbecue music. "Dawn's Highway" is the tale of a hitchhiker longing for love in the truck stops of the nation -- but the song never strays from an almost funky, melodic cheer; despite a dark instrumental on "Feels Like Kevin," a song about the fate of a young boy "who slipped... and hit his head," the song's deep jazz groove renders it undeniably sunny. It's a dichotomy the bandmembers are aware of and seem to enjoy; they tinker with the emotional split between how music operates on a listener's body versus what the mind understands through lyrics. Other times, the music is a perfect match for the band's humor, such as on "Yard Sale," a tale of letting go of the past and its mementos, including Chewbacca figurines. "Loaded Down," the final track, begins with a gospel-like a cappella harmony from the three bandmembers (Harrington, guitarist Christopher Smith and drummer Dominic Rivers) and recalls everything from Phish to Queen to a really goofy -- and really entertaining -- fusion of outlaw country and Scottish traditionals. Witty and well-played, Planeterrarium indicates Rhino2Rhino is a band that's happy being hard to pin down. (P.O. Box 4006, Boulder, CO 80306.)
Hell Loose Sin Nation is the name of a four-song EP from the recently reunited Hell Camino, which first started hanging around Denver in 1993 but split in 1997. The five-person outfit is led by singer/lyricist Al Pierson, who despite her manly first name is a statuesque blonde who resembles old pinup photos of Betty Grable -- were Betty Grable a wannabe dominatrix. With the press materials that accompany Nation comes this description of Pierson: "She will entice you, consume you, then spit you out...you'll be crawling on your hands and knees, begging for more." Well, yeah, that might be true if a shoddy imitation of Exene Cervenka with a head cold and trite lyrics gets you hot. "Trick or treat or treat or trick/Come stab me with your stick/If I die before I wake/Do me good for goodness sake," she sings oh-so-enticingly on "Trick or Treat." Things don't fare much better for Hell Camino in the arena of musical moxie, either. The band describes its music as having industrial-rock influences, and formula-wise, at least, it does, along with traces of heavy metal and punk. But that doesn't mean it represents those influences well. "I Could Be Ugly," which I assume is supposed to be spooky and meaningful and Siouxie-esque, instead sounds shapeless and pedestrian. The opening track, "Vibe," which aims for a raw, driving power, is simply irritating -- due in large part to a lackluster recording quality. Heck, what's that maxim? If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all? With that in mind, I'll simply say: "Next." (www.hellcamino.com.)
Vail-based four-piece Sucker continues the grand (?) legacy of white-boy funk-rap fusion on The Way, an eleven-song disc driven by Carlos Perez's compulsive bass and fat guitar riffs that sound a bit like Lenny Kravitz channeling Zeppelin, Hendrix and Marley. Unfortunately, those who aren't fans of bands like 311 may prematurely dismiss Sucker after the opening track's fuzzy, bouncing choruses that sound just a little too much like that band. From then on, though, the sound is as funky as it is irie, thanks to the horns, Santana-style guitars and ja-inspiring rhythms that pepper this release. Vocalist Scott Stoughton even effects a Jamaican accent on a couple of tunes (including the lovely final track, "Anymore," which moves from a mellow groove to an erratic maelstrom of guitar distortion and back in the space of a few minutes). Sucker purportedly aims to spread a "positive message" with its music -- which, happily, doesn't translate to a bunch of I'm-okay-you're-okay lyrics. In my estimation, the most positive message to result from The Way is the notion that this brand of funk fusion can be creative and well-done. ([email protected]).
"The stench so pungent, you will puke/But soon you'll get used to that." This from the mouth and mind of Jeremy Munn, lead vocalist for local death-metal outfit Butcher Shoppe, on the song of the same name. What can I say...this band scares me. There's a photo of the bandmembers covered in blood on the back cover of Meat, their eight-song CD, and a scary cartoon of a bald man hacking up some helpless creature on the front. They sing like demons, and I can imagine their music playing in the background of some epic nightmare where the entire world is engulfed in large flicks of fire and no one can find any shoes. Songs like "Bloody Onion" reveal the band's sensitivity to -- and complete comprehension of -- gay issues ("It's accepted in society/So that makes it okay/They've even got special rights/Sooner or later they'll want there [sic] own day"), while "Freak of the Week" showcases the band's more general embrace of cultural diversity: "Inbred strippers, lezbo [sic] sisters, saddist [sic] cops, pediphile [sic] preachers, all these fuckin freaks need to DIE! DIE! DIE!" Sure, all of this obvious, unabashed hatred for everything proves just how hardcore these dudes really are, but even that's not what's so frightening about this band. What scares me is that boring, uninventive, badly played shit like this is still being made in 1999. Kinda gives you the shivers, don't it? (Finyl Cut Records, 3225 East Colfax Avenue, Denver, CO 80206.)
