The Dreamy Magic of the E-bow
Tuesday November 28th 2006,
Filed under: Features

Confession time: way back during the simpler times of the early ’90s, I went through an extended phase of shoegaze mania. Actually, “mania” might be understating it. Eating it, breathing it, sleeping it, living it, et al are far more accurate. I mildly cringe when I think about it now; not necessarily because of the alarming depth of my obsession, but more from the fact that I spent exorbitantly disgusting amounts of money for items like Slowdive’s early vinyl EPs to the first Pale Saints 12″ to scores of faceless, unmemorable bands that I picked up simply because a random blurb mentioned a Verve comparision in it somewhere. What’s really disheartening is that, with a few exceptions, much of it hasn’t aged well for me at all. Lush’s debut Spooky (1992) used to give me chills; now I find it pleasantly dull. I used to get worked up into a delighted frenzy over the mere thought of Chapterhouse’s Whirlpool (1991); now I turn it off halfway through. And don’t even get me started on Curve. I expected a similar reaction when I chose Texas space-rockers 7% Solution to accompany me on my drive home from work the other night. Nothing could have been more opposite; I was so enraptured that I don’t remember the journey home at all. (Perhaps I shouldn’t recall this anecdote so fondly, but I digress.)

7% Solution

7% Solution formed back in ‘93 in Austin by guitarist and vocalist Reese Beeman and second guitarist James Adkisson, and included drummer Scott Sasser and bassist Dwyne Moore. Their first record, titled All About Satellites and Spaceships (1996) after a series of children’s books, is a self-produced and self-released dreampop gem that incorporated a novel idea: the band had twice as many discs as they did sleeves, so they included a second extra disc in the insert to “give to a friend.” This approach is exactly how I received my copy; my good friend Trinitone was addicted to Parasol mail orders at the time, who had highly lauded the group. Lyrically, All About Satellites is a loose concept album about separation and isolation, but since the vocals are wholly buried in the mix, what really stands out is the overall sound. And what a glorious sound it is.

Any guitarist who can achieve a tasteful incorporation of the E-bow into their playing scores automatic points with me, but not only do both guitarists utilize it well, Adkisson plays through not one, but two Digitech Whammy pedals from his effects arsenal. Add to the equation the fact that his approach was more textural and less note-oriented, and the result is a thick, swirling cauldron of sound as dense as an ocean fog, with flurries of pitches pealing into the stratosphere. Adkisson’s ability to transform his Fender Strat into a sky-sawing synth is reminicent of Pat Metheny’s work in the early ’80s or the more melodic side of Robert Fripp, but with more of an emphasis on molasses-like drones, whale songs and bird calls, and replications of a string orchestra.

“Revolve” was one of the more popular and relatively “straight-forward” tracks on the disc, opening with a pinging guitar line that provides the foundation for the song, along with some noticeably fluid drumming from Sasser. Beeman contributes to the druggy, delayed soundscape by repeating each lyric once, and at 1:44 the swell of E-bowed guitars acts as a chorus, rising and falling with each bar. At 4:11 he begins a lovely finger-picked solo based around octaves that is expertly fitting in the production, then the wave crests and crashes onto the shore for the final chorus as Beeman intones hypnotically, “I miss you so.”

“Revolve” – 7% Solution 7:07 (All About Satellites and Spaceships, X-Ray 1996)

The band really lets loose on the whirlwind-like “Built on Sand,” an early album highlight and one of the noisier excursions here. Sasser’s drums are the most prominent instrument in the mix, his cymbals ricocheting off the howling wall of drones and Beeman’s drowning vocals. Suddenly the skies clear at 1:54 as the guitars gently cycle through a melody and Sasser begins a rumbling tom pattern. Anyone familiar with R.E.M.’s Lifes Rich Pageant (1986) will perk their ears upward at Beeman’s lyrics here. The climax occurs near the end as Adkisson rips sirens of glistening feedback from his guitar, the rest of the band swarming in ecstasy.

“Built on Sand” – 7% Solution 6:28 (All About Satellites and Spaceships, X-Ray 1996)

All About Satellites and Spaceships was enough to establish 7% Solution as a sizeable contributor to the American shoegaze scene, but the band released one last album before the end of the decade, 1999’s Gabriel’s Waltz. A more subdued, introspective record, Gabriel’s Waltz lacks the some of the fire and restless exploratory nature of the debut, but is a remarkable and mature statement nonetheless. Inspired by the poetry of Anne Sexton, most of the tracks are in 3/4 or 6/8 time, misleading many listeners into thinking that the group was trying to compile an album of waltzes in the traditional sense. “Carousel” is a detailed, circular instrumental that signals their broadening musicality and the advanced interplay between band members. Beeman establishes a watery guitar loop while Adkisson layers E-bow on top, and Sasser sounds like he’s in heaven with a tempo like this. Subsequent bands like Chicago’s The Timeout Drawer would take this sound and run with it wholeheartedly.

“Carousel” – 7% Solution 4:54 (Gabriel’s Waltz, X-Ray 1999)

7% Solution disbanded in 2004, with Adkisson, Beeman, and Sasser forming Sickert with Lisa Lipkin and Adkisson also playing with psychedelic instrumentalists A Five and Dime Ship. He also manages the band’s MySpace page, which includes some excellent and revealing blog entries on the group’s history, individual songs, and recording process.



Five Covers for a Friday, Vol. 3
Friday November 24th 2006,
Filed under: Covers

“Sweet Child o’ Mine” – The Aluminum Group 4:18 (Wonder Boy Plus, Minty Fresh 1999)

Leave it to those gay ol’ Navin brothers to kidnap one of the most recognizable and popular guitar ballads of the ’80s, strip it of its sweaty bar-room masculinity, and present it as a tender, lilting reflection on innocent love. From the first notes of that instantly familiar lead (on acoustic guitar, no less), Guns n’ Roses‘ definitive anthem of sleaze-rock goes from the back seat of a flame-painted Camaro to the interior of a spiffy new Volvo, from a drunken jukebox dedication to a bedtime lullaby to a newborn baby girl. This triggers a lot of gag reflexes whenever I happen to play it for friends, but the organ during the chorus and those dreamy maj7 chords are so unexpected that it retains its freshness every time I hear it. And the trombone solos are like icing on the cake. I’d pay to see the look on Axl’s mug the first time he heard this, assuming he bothered, of course.

“California Dreamin’” – American Music Club 2:35 (San Francisco, Reprise 1994)

This hidden bonus track on American Music Club’s swan song couldn’t have been a more appropriate fit for a cover, given the album’s subject matter. Where The Mamas & the Papas injected the original with their own brand of druggy, freespirited sunniness, Eitzel’s interpretation has all the fun of a dreary, morning-after smoker’s cough. His withered voice aches its way through the chilling wail of subtle feedback that hovers behind the mix, propelled by naturally distored drums and a bass guitar that sounds like it was mic’ed from a shitty ten-dollar practice amp. Vudi wisely reproduces the guitar solo note-for-note, still one of the most finely crafted solos in pop history. “California Dreamin’” is one of those songs that should come with a warning, as it’s damn near impossible to erase this from my head once it’s stuck there.

Califone

“Welcome Christmas” – Califone 2:08 (Christmas Sampler, Perishable 2001)

Being that this is Black Friday and all (yet I’m still stationed at work in my non-retail job), I thought a classic heartwarming carol would warm the spirit and set the tone for the season. Califone’s warped take on this Dr. Seuss holiday hymn is typical of Tim Rutili’s noisy junkyard explorations of rural Americana; no surprises there. It just happens that this sounds like the spectral cries of the damned, dragging their chains as they toil in eternal servitude in the bowels of Hades. But wait - is that a little girl’s voice singing along? What the hell is going on here?!? Fortunately, the track’s brevity prevents it from permanently haunting my subconscious.

“Lay Lady Lay” – Ministry 5:44 (Filth Pig, Warner Bros. 1996)

As lambasting as the initial reviews of Ministry’s Filth Pig (1996) were, the most scathing attacks focused on the band’s ill-advised choice of including this cover near the end of the record. Though I respect his work as a songwriter, I couldn’t give a rat’s carcass about Dylan’s music, which perhaps explains why I didn’t view this cover as a defiant sacrilegious piss on his legacy when it was released over ten years ago. Paul Barker’s bottom-feeding, gutteral bass tone practically makes the song, despite Al Jourgensen’s utter lack of vocal enthusiasm, quizzically adopting an odd British inflection at times. Though it wears out its welcome around the fourth minute or so, this isn’t really as vehemently objectionable as the naysayers made it out to be.

“Come As You Are” – Dani Siciliano 5:11 (Likes…, K7 2004)

Dani Siciliano had some brass to present the nth cover “Come As You Are” on her debut; what could she possibly add to this Nirvana classic that hadn’t already been done before? Well, for starters, other than the lyrics, it’s a completely different song. I would be so bold as to presume that it actually was an original track that was waiting for vocals, and Siciliano just happened to like the way Cobain’s verses complemented her arrangements. Sonically, this is a treasure trove for the ears: a springy upright bass dominates the proceedings, presiding over an army of insect-farm percussion, moody film noir horns, and Siciliano’s smoky nightclub voice.