By Isa Jones
By Mary Willson
By Brian Turk
By Drew AIles
By Taylor Boylston
By Bree Davies
By Emerald O'Brien
"It's that Midwestern sound, that singer-songwriter type music," Rex says of his group's sound. "And it's not such a tight pop-rock sound, but kind of loose, almost sloppy." For Rex, the appeal of acts such as the Replacements, Wilco, Son Volt and others is their ability to pair attitudes and chops with attention to strong songs. "They might not have had the best singers, but they evoke a certain emotion," Rex says. "The lyrics are not as run-of-the-mill as the poppy stuff where the lyrics are secondary. The lyrics are the thing, and the music is really the soundtrack for them."
Rex's music and name will be familiar to some Colorado music fans. In 1997 he did a stint with Fort Collins-based Armchair Martian, serving as the band's bassist and doing shows around the state for several months; Rex appears on that band's Monsters Always Scream CD. He also played a number of instruments on Drag the River's Hoboes Demos. His connection to those bands stretches back to his childhood, when he and Armchair Martian/Drag the River member Jon Snodgrass were pals in St. Joseph, Missouri. Rex's connections with Snodgrass and his bands eventually led to the release of Angels -- the debut CD for Mars Motors Records, a new label run by Eric Flashner (owner of Rocks Off records in Fort Collins) and Snodgrass. Snodgrass says Rex and his band were chosen to be Mars Motors' first release for a simple reason: "They sound like Drag the River, only better. And Chad is the best songwriter I know."
Rex's hefty songwriting skills may owe something to his high-caliber influences, particularly a couple of Midwestern songwriters. "The two Bobs," Rex says. "Bob Mould of Hüsker Dü, who pretty much got me through the '80s, and Bob Dylan, who got me through the '90s." He sites Blonde on Blonde and Blood on the Tracks as major influences. "For about three years, that was all I ever listened to, and I bought everything. Blood is like the writers' bible to me."
Songs to Fix Angels boasts cuts that reveal some stamps of both Mould (in the disc's blistering power-and-Western tunes) and Dylan (in its plaintive, unplugged numbers). All of them feature whittled-down lyrics and sticky melodies. Recorded at Kansas City's Wheeler Studio, the album's most obvious merit is a bone-dry, live-in-the-studio feel. (The sound is surprising, considering that Angels was recorded completely on Pro Tools software, a package that has earned mixed reviews among bands.) On its softer side, the recording sports Americana gems that echo the Civil War sound of the Band or Wilco, without the over-earnestness. "Tied Up to Die" is a dark little narrative wrapped in acoustic guitars, mandolins and accordions, while "Hearsay Discovered" is achy country rock mixed in with a weary chorus perfect for Rex's reedy voice. "Parting Dress" is a fading love song that fills a similar niche and sports brain-tickling lines -- "Love is blind and sometimes deaf/And sometimes won't commit," for example -- that paint fresh colors on age-old topics. And while the title of "Back to the Breakdown" makes the song seem like some weeping-in-your-heroin tale, in Rex's hands it's a rollicking yarn that makes the prospect of losing one's mind seem downright inviting.
"I hope it's not poor-me-ish," Rex says of his focus on mental anguish and dark subjects. "It could be, I guess, but I revise a lot, and I try to put an element of optimism in there. And the music doesn't sound like the Smiths."
Rex's acoustic tunes have endeared him to fans in coffeehouses and bookstores around the Kansas City area, where he's been doing solo shows for the past couple of years. But Angels sports a second dynamic that's aimed at fans of harder, plugged-in music on a handful of supreme rockers lifted to greatness by the drumming of Rex's brother, Scotty Rex, and bone-breaking tones from Rex's skilled hands. His guitar sound -- which he gets by pushing a Telecaster through a Matchless amp -- is the tone of amplified angels, what rock-and-roll guitars surely sound like in heaven. Its thick distortion takes wing on the disc's solos -- short salvos in which Rex does more in a few seconds than most guitarists do in entire sets. "Desperate and Poisoned" is kerosene-fueled heartland rock akin to Steve Earle's efforts with the Supersuckers. The song's thirteen-second guitar break has Rex launching a solo with a squeal of sheet-metal feedback before blasting through a grungy groan or two and a howling country string-bend, followed by a descending run that ends in a searing vibrato. It's thought out yet reckless, stuff worthy of repeated plays. On "Blue Memory," he hits a similar peak, slicing open a tale of crosses, hearses and skeletons with a ten-second stab of Stooges-style guitar bliss.