Avatar
Comets on Fire
(Sub Pop)
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: there's a fine line between high octane, apocalyptic rock'n'roll and just aimless thrashing. No, I'm not going to open up the old "noise or music" debate; thankfully, I'm not that old yet. What I'm getting at, instead, is the reason why Fun House will always pack a bigger, more visceral punch than a Wolf Eyes record - why, to me at least, the razor-sharp riffage of a comparatively tame Motorhead will trump the Slayers and Sepulturas of the world every time. It's simple friction, really: the greatest heavy rock albums control their chaos with the loosest of reigns, always commanding the potential to go over the edge, but never quite making good on their threats. Take it too far, and the mayhem will turn into a dull, numbing plateau. After all, Metal Machine Music is undoubtedly a "heavier" record than Paranoid - maybe the heaviest - but can 60 minutes of undiluted feedback really inspire the same amount of head-banging and fist-pumping as a well-placed drum fill or power chord? Not a chance.
It's for this very reason that Comets on Fire never really appealed to me as much as I expected them to, given all the Stooges and Blue Cheer comparisons heaped at their feet...simply put, they rocked a little too hard. When I first heard the Santa Cruz, CA band's 2004 record Blue Cathedral, it struck me as one big tumult with no sense of dynamics; it had all of the primitive sonic contortions of Fun House, sure, but none of the tension-building restraint that made Iggy's Rock'n'Roll Rosetta Stone such a monolith. But two years can change a lot, both for a listener and for a band - and I'm happy to report that Avatar, the Comets' follow-up to Cathedral, displays enough restraint and tension to make you rethink their position as heirs to the zonk-rock throne in the first place.
Which is not to say that they've gone soft and started banging out four-chord Hollies covers or something - far from it, in fact. Avatar's opening track "Dogwood Rust" doesn't just stomp, it gallops: a mass of careening, noodling guitars, fuzz bass and electronic fuckery hurtling toward the listener like sea-tossed waters toward the shore. The fact that only one of these seven songs clocks in at under six minutes - and that's "Holy Teeth," a freak-out so intense that extending it past its two minutes and 59 seconds would probably trigger widespread musical shell-shock - should also say something about these guys' priorities; Comets on Fire are so Rock, even their ballads meander like a John Bonham drum solo. What's different is that these meanderings, convolutions and subtle nuances are no longer buried beneath layers of unholy squall, allowing us to appreciate them at last in all their glory. The stoned, jazzy groove which opens "Jaybird" might build to the usual screaming feedback and howling, distorted vocals before long, but it's that very contrast between subdued beginning and raucous climax that gives the song its momentous forward thrust. And as for the aforementioned ballads - of which, shockingly, there are two - they just might be the most revelatory tracks on the album, allowing us to glimpse at a level of musical sophistication which Comets on Fire's previous music never even hinted at.
Trouble is, it's welcome advancements like these which might provide the greatest obstacle for the modern indie rocker in appreciating the "new" Comets on Fire. Where before we could safely invoke unhip proto-metal and acid-rock touchstones in our descriptions of the band, while resting assured that the Comets would always make enough avant-noise to leave our cred unscathed, now their deepest, darkest secrets, and ours, have been laid bare: this most unruly of rock bands, far from flying the banner for genreless sonic mayhem, is perhaps the most "retro" of the retro-rock acts still standing. The '70s fetish which had previously manifested itself only in equipment choice (what other post-punk act has used an Echoplex, for Christ's sake?) is now front and center, channeling dried-ice album-rock pomp in the ascending guitar lines and cascading grand piano of closing track "Hatched Upon the Age," and no less a personage than Ronnie James Dio when frontman Ethan Miller croons lyrics like "the demons demand a life most desired" in "Lucifer's Memory." How are we ever going to make eye contact with our MySpace friends now?
The answer is simple; far from simply recreating the era of gatefold covers and organ solos, with Avatar Comets on Fire have masterfully captured its spirit, reshuffling the raw components of embryonic hard rock and psychedelia to create music which transcends decade and blows minds across the board. Just listen to the sprawling instrumental "Sour Smoke," a nebulous but insistent groove that seems to exist, like much of the album, as a force of nature alone. This is what "post-rock" should have been, but never was: the sound of rock music stripped to its barest elements and splattered willy-nilly across the horizon, the kind of sounds one imagines would be made by future generations if the only things to survive a nuclear holocaust were drums, guitars, electric keyboards and a few Hawkwind records. It might not be as intense as their earlier efforts, but what it lacks in volume Avatar more than makes up for in impact. Almost makes me want to dig out Blue Cathedral again and see what I've been missing...after all, who wants to wait two years for rock'n'roll as stratospheric as this?
Official Site
Buy It on Amazon
See Also: what Comets on Fire need to make the next record even better
(Sub Pop)
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: there's a fine line between high octane, apocalyptic rock'n'roll and just aimless thrashing. No, I'm not going to open up the old "noise or music" debate; thankfully, I'm not that old yet. What I'm getting at, instead, is the reason why Fun House will always pack a bigger, more visceral punch than a Wolf Eyes record - why, to me at least, the razor-sharp riffage of a comparatively tame Motorhead will trump the Slayers and Sepulturas of the world every time. It's simple friction, really: the greatest heavy rock albums control their chaos with the loosest of reigns, always commanding the potential to go over the edge, but never quite making good on their threats. Take it too far, and the mayhem will turn into a dull, numbing plateau. After all, Metal Machine Music is undoubtedly a "heavier" record than Paranoid - maybe the heaviest - but can 60 minutes of undiluted feedback really inspire the same amount of head-banging and fist-pumping as a well-placed drum fill or power chord? Not a chance.It's for this very reason that Comets on Fire never really appealed to me as much as I expected them to, given all the Stooges and Blue Cheer comparisons heaped at their feet...simply put, they rocked a little too hard. When I first heard the Santa Cruz, CA band's 2004 record Blue Cathedral, it struck me as one big tumult with no sense of dynamics; it had all of the primitive sonic contortions of Fun House, sure, but none of the tension-building restraint that made Iggy's Rock'n'Roll Rosetta Stone such a monolith. But two years can change a lot, both for a listener and for a band - and I'm happy to report that Avatar, the Comets' follow-up to Cathedral, displays enough restraint and tension to make you rethink their position as heirs to the zonk-rock throne in the first place.
Which is not to say that they've gone soft and started banging out four-chord Hollies covers or something - far from it, in fact. Avatar's opening track "Dogwood Rust" doesn't just stomp, it gallops: a mass of careening, noodling guitars, fuzz bass and electronic fuckery hurtling toward the listener like sea-tossed waters toward the shore. The fact that only one of these seven songs clocks in at under six minutes - and that's "Holy Teeth," a freak-out so intense that extending it past its two minutes and 59 seconds would probably trigger widespread musical shell-shock - should also say something about these guys' priorities; Comets on Fire are so Rock, even their ballads meander like a John Bonham drum solo. What's different is that these meanderings, convolutions and subtle nuances are no longer buried beneath layers of unholy squall, allowing us to appreciate them at last in all their glory. The stoned, jazzy groove which opens "Jaybird" might build to the usual screaming feedback and howling, distorted vocals before long, but it's that very contrast between subdued beginning and raucous climax that gives the song its momentous forward thrust. And as for the aforementioned ballads - of which, shockingly, there are two - they just might be the most revelatory tracks on the album, allowing us to glimpse at a level of musical sophistication which Comets on Fire's previous music never even hinted at.
Trouble is, it's welcome advancements like these which might provide the greatest obstacle for the modern indie rocker in appreciating the "new" Comets on Fire. Where before we could safely invoke unhip proto-metal and acid-rock touchstones in our descriptions of the band, while resting assured that the Comets would always make enough avant-noise to leave our cred unscathed, now their deepest, darkest secrets, and ours, have been laid bare: this most unruly of rock bands, far from flying the banner for genreless sonic mayhem, is perhaps the most "retro" of the retro-rock acts still standing. The '70s fetish which had previously manifested itself only in equipment choice (what other post-punk act has used an Echoplex, for Christ's sake?) is now front and center, channeling dried-ice album-rock pomp in the ascending guitar lines and cascading grand piano of closing track "Hatched Upon the Age," and no less a personage than Ronnie James Dio when frontman Ethan Miller croons lyrics like "the demons demand a life most desired" in "Lucifer's Memory." How are we ever going to make eye contact with our MySpace friends now?
The answer is simple; far from simply recreating the era of gatefold covers and organ solos, with Avatar Comets on Fire have masterfully captured its spirit, reshuffling the raw components of embryonic hard rock and psychedelia to create music which transcends decade and blows minds across the board. Just listen to the sprawling instrumental "Sour Smoke," a nebulous but insistent groove that seems to exist, like much of the album, as a force of nature alone. This is what "post-rock" should have been, but never was: the sound of rock music stripped to its barest elements and splattered willy-nilly across the horizon, the kind of sounds one imagines would be made by future generations if the only things to survive a nuclear holocaust were drums, guitars, electric keyboards and a few Hawkwind records. It might not be as intense as their earlier efforts, but what it lacks in volume Avatar more than makes up for in impact. Almost makes me want to dig out Blue Cathedral again and see what I've been missing...after all, who wants to wait two years for rock'n'roll as stratospheric as this?
Official Site
Buy It on Amazon
See Also: what Comets on Fire need to make the next record even better
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