ShareCALM DOWN – The Service Industry (Saustex Media)
I was just thinking how I was getting in a rut listening to my current faves when this disc appeared like a candygram from the gods to shake me out of my stasis. To begin with, part of their schtick is that they all work day jobs, which they helpfully list on their promo hype sheet, a Faulknerian epic by the standards of most modern media schmatter: four full pages worth. I can dig it, though.As a fan of shows where you can feel the speaker cones and drumheads moving your clothes around (as opposed to those where you have to look at a Jumbotron to see the players, and they’re tee-tiny there), who agrees with Chuck Dukowski re: musos having straights (“I like having a day job because it lets me be free with my music”) and believes that there is no “next level” beyond coming offstage buzzed with endorphins after sweating out all the beer you drank, I can honestly say that pretty much any band I’d want to see is made up of folks who do other stuff to make a living. (I’ve often signed missives from one of the bands I play in “the graphic artist, the computer programmer, the bookseller, the trophy shop owner, and the grocery clerk.”) Further investigation reveals that this is the Service Industry’s fourth album, and that two of the band members are also in the Rockland Eagles, a worthy Austin pop-rock outfit that’s played here in Fort Worth and favorably impressed people I know whose opinions I trust.
A six-headed hydra including male and female stand-up singers (insert John Doe-Exene comparison here), the Service Industry’s sound conflates gorgeous melody, aggressive power, and tongue-in-cheek humor like a Frankenstein monster kloodged together from parts of the classic “Substitute”-through-“Dogs” Who, the Beach Boys (dig the ace harmonies on “This Town Makes My Skin Crawl”), the Byrds (“Honey and Sprayed Hair” starts out like a kissin’ cousin of “I Feel A Whole Lot Better” before a “Taxman”-like R&B groove kicks in), Cheap Trick, Sparks (especially the staccato intro to “Conflict Resolution”), the Psychodots, and Sugar (the title track, which is driven by a guitar line that probably unintentionally echoes well-kept D/FW secret the Hochimen’s “Do It Clean”). The guitars alternately crunch and chime, the rhythm section hammers out the beats, and the vocals dance over the top.
Witty lyrics abound, many of which refer to contemporary Texas politics – the title track’s “Who knows why they shot that guy these Jesus freaks give me the creeps, I’ve found,” f’rinstance, or the ’79 new wavish “Paint Creek,” which portrays the Lone Star State’s wannabe secessionist governor Rick Perry (a ringer for the creepy real estate guy that was banging Annette Bening in American Beauty) in lines like “You’re like a David Byrne, you know the Talking Head, you flak-jacket wearin’, paranoia dyed black head.” Only non-snazz moment here is “Louden Wainright, AZ,” which sounds like Pere Ubu’s David Thomas yammering through a megaphone behind an OK instrumental that sounds like skate- or surf-movie soundtrack music – which is fine until the instrumental stops. No matter, though. This is still a fantastic album. - Ken Shimamoto
HOW DID WE DO?
ADD YOUR OWN COMMENT OR RATE THIS MUSIC
