ICARUS HIMSELF – Coffins

(2009 Self-Release/Science of Sound)

Unlike the hothead they take their name from, it is almost impossible to get Icarus Himself riled up.  In the course of the eleven songs on their sophomore record, only “Flatwoods, WV” even breaks a sweat, and that’s only in the last thirty seconds.  Even though there is plenty to get upset about in the first two minutes—like the narrator’s grandfather forcing his mother to give his older brother up for adoption and not being told about it for nearly twenty years—Nick Whetro’s voice remains deadpan over the quick strum of the guitar and click of the drums.  That is “until they put pennies on her eyes” and her death breaks the hold of “nineteen years of deception, a hundred tears for a lie” and the song ends with a squawk of feedback.

Heck, that little bit of heat wouldn’t even melt off more than a couple of feathers.  Throughout Coffins, Whetro and Karl Christenson, who is also a partner in crime in the National Beekeepers Society, play it cool, sounding like Jeff Magnum (of acknowledged influence Neutral Milk Hotel) might if his nervous breakdown had been treated with lithium and electroshock.  Even songs that start off sounding angry (“There were words spoken, those words hurt like hell”) and build (“I’m trying to be patient, but only time will tell”) eventually diffuse with the admission, “Sometimes I can’t stand you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you around” (which is also the title). 

Even though Icarus Himself is essentially Whetro’s solo project, he gets plenty of help from his friends.  Christenson also joins him in the live incarnation of the band, which seldom runs as smoothly as the songs on this disc, playing baritone guitar and handling the sampler and looping pedal.  Fellow Beekeepers Brad Motl and Kris Hansen also contributed, as well as Elliott Kozel and Michael Sienkowski of Sleeping in the Aviary.  The lyrics to “January (Tennessee)” are attributed to Whetro and Kozel, and it took me more than a minute to puzzle out why they were so familiar.  The repeated lines “On the floor in Tennessee, you married me/You were bored in New Orleans, you married me,” also show up in Aviary’s “Pop Song,” though in their case they are yelped instead of intoned, an actual pop song instead of a requiem.

It’s not that Coffins is boring, not at all.  It just prefers to take things easy, and that’s really OK.  It’s a well-crafted and intriguing record that lends itself to multiple listens despite the similarity of the songs (just try telling the title track and “Precedents” apart in the first ten seconds) and the thirty minute run time.  While some musicians have a hard time deciding which compositions go to the band and which to their solo venture, in Whetro’s case the songs seem to sort themselves: excitable Pavement-esque rockers, Beekeepers pile; don’t want to (or just can’t) get that worked up, that’s an Icarus.  Though it appears the occasional song can go either way. 

“Scars” was the standout track on the Beekeepers ambitious debut.  It reappears here with its heroine Mary and her “very discerning hates in the clothes she wears and who she dates” slowed down just a bit and seeming right at home.  Of course, that record came before Whetro’s personality split, so it’s possible she was an Icarus girl all along.  If forced to choose, I guess I am too.

SLEEPING IN THE AVIARY – Oh, This Old Thing?

(2007    Science of Sound)

I’ll admit it, I was just the tiniest bit disappointed on my first listen to Sleeping in the Aviary’s debut CD Oh, This Old Thing?  I’ve always been a partial to their well-mannered Dr. Jekyll acoustic incarnation as opposed to their untamed Mr. Hyde screamo side, and the 23 minutes of this disc definitely lean more toward Mr. Hyde.  The disappointment was short-lived; after a couple listens their ridiculously catchy tunes have taken up permanent residence in my head.  And though the surprisingly smart lyrics may not be immediately obvious, they are definitely here.  Despite Elliott Kozel spitting the words out as if they taste bad, every clever line is discernible.  Even so, the lyrics are included in a 16 page booklet that accompanies the disc, part of a slick digipak case illustrated with Kozel’s art.

His troubling yet intriguing artwork matches well the subject matter of the songs.  Like a black and white primitive Picasso caught between the blue period and his descent into Cubism, Kozel draws people haunted by ghosts of despair and addiction, something the characters in these songs know well.  “Hear your trembling too loud/ Filling in the dead space/ I know all your false alarms/ Now they’re sleeping in my place,” he discloses in the strutting “Lanugo,” a brash chunk of Libertine-style rock boosted by trombone and “ooh-ooh” and “bop bop” backing vocals.    “Drug Suitcase” brings a Razorlight urgency to its confessional chorus of “Oh your body’s nice but your mind is a joke/ I’m sleeping in your clothes for the third night in a row/ You love other boys because I do.” 

As much as the Aviary boys sometimes recall those British rock bands and their American counterpart the Strokes, they separate themselves with an urgency and primal energy absent from other bands.  It may be their authentic DIY sound or it may be the brevity of the songs, only four break the two minute barrier, screamer “Maureen” only 33 seconds and opener “Face Lift Floats” a surprising 48.  Like many of their songs, the latter is so lyrically packed as to seem much, much bigger.  The terrific rhythm section behind the guitar, drummer Michael Sienkowski (formerly of the Eyebeams) and bassist Phil Mahlstadt, also play a large part in making these songs so remarkable.

COLD CUT COMBO – Compilation

(2006   Cold Cut Records)

It’s hard to know exactly what to think about the Cold Cut Combo’s Compilation CD.  The letter of explanation that accompanies it claims “This is not suppose (sic) to be funny.  This is serious art.  Real Pop Art.  Respect.”  So why couldn’t I stop laughing?  It could be because I have a sick sense of humor, but pairing lyrics found by searching the teen angst poetry website lovelandia.com for the phrase “I cut myself” with music from a Casio keyboard absolutely begs for a snicker on concept alone.  They certainly don’t help their campaign for seriousness by attributing the songs to artists like “Vic Raiser” (say it aloud) and “Canadian Kevin Bacon,” the latter of which had me choking back a giggle.

Cold Cut Combo comes to us from the genius of the Sleeping in the Aviary boys, who just may be Madison’s most intriguing band.  Granted, this project could have been done seriously, just not by them.  They selected only the most melodramatic, most ponderous, most ridiculous poems from the website and made them even more so with the fluffiest, cheesiest, most over-the-top arrangements imaginable.  The first track, the brilliant “Cut, Cut (Cut, Cut, Cut)” sets the cry-for-help poem “No Longer” to electronic dance-pop beats worthy of New Order or Erasure.  The chorus of “Cut, cut” etc. separates verses contemplating various methods of suicide (“I throw the rope up over the beam / Step off the chair. I will not scream” and “I take down the bottle of pills / And I swallow twenty-four / Lay down on my bed / Soon I won’t feel anything anymore”).  Yep, this is feel-good stuff.

It’s impossible to pick a favorite; each has its charm.  “Makin a Mess on my Floor” boasts a Caribbean-style steel drum flow paired with lyrics like “Looking at the blood as it falls to the floor / I make a puddle that will last forevermore / I throw myself against the wall / Praying to end it all / Slowly drifting away making a mess on my floor.”   You can’t make stuff like this up.  The terrific “8, 9, Then 10” rearranges the original poem into a sort of how-many-licks-does-it-take counting song: “I slice my wrist more and more / One, two, three, four / Just how many times does it take / Five, six, seven, eight / Until I realize I’ve made a mistake?” with the whole band chiming in on the counting.  The end result is a ridiculously catchy (and admittedly just plain ridiculous) sing-along in the style of Camper Van Beethoven.  “I am the Emo” could have been recorded by “Push Th’ Little Daisies”- era Ween had they forgotten to take their anti-depressants, while “I’m Sorry” features a spoken interlude with memorable sentiments like “Life is fucking stupid / To kill myself is my dream.”

This is not music for the depressed or anyone harboring suicidal tendencies, but for anyone with even a slightly dark sense of humor this is genuinely funny and impressively creative music.  It needs to be heard to be appreciated.  Find yourself a copy and buy it; maybe they can use the profits to get these teenage Sylvia Plaths some therapy.