Why is it so hard to write about music? Is it that hard to separate the music from the culture? Every day I read reviews that remind me that while they are inseparable, music and the culture it engenders makes for some awful writing.
While looking for some more obscure, great bands I caught myself reading reviews of Epic Soundtracks' solo outings. Epic formed and played drums in the brilliant (if not commercially invisible) Swell Maps, a British group that fully embraced punk's supposed style nihilism better than anyone. There sound was dangerous and unstable, a heady mix of power chord ferocity and teeth-scraping improvisation with T. Rex, Can and surf music being their primary influences.
After the break up of the Maps, he plays with the Jacobites and Crime and the City Solution until a career renaissance in the early 90's. The Swell Maps are credited as a huge influence to seminal underground/grunge mammoths as Dinosaur Jr, Pavement, and Sonic Youth to name a few.
Epics records a handful of piano-led solo records, and I trolled allmusic.com for a good review. I found nothing of quality.
Epic Soundtracks writes affecting piano ballads and mid-tempo pieces with an ease that belies how good these songs are.
Read it again. Epic is credited as a great songwriter, but maybe his writing is TOO good. I say this because it seems that reviewer John Bush believes his process is too laid back. Perhaps someone needs to light a fire under Epic's ass? Will that make the songs better?
Though J. Mascis (drums on two tracks) and Kim Gordon (voice on "Big Apple Graveyard") do contribute, this is Epic's show; he provides most of the music and all the magic.
Name checking as one should in this situation. However, I have a feeling that we're at the end of the line here. So far, this album has celebrity cameos and magic. Great. I really know what I'm in store for here.
Many songs have a traditional feel and sound strangely familiar.
And that, my friends, is that. The End. Exeunt. Horrible. Terrible. Undescriptive. Void of information. Void of analysis. Void of content.
Void. Void. Void. Void. Void. Void. Void. Void. Void. Void.
I'm usually the first person to defend allmusic, but fuck, what's a guy to do when they try to shove horseshit into your brain? I choose to defend myself from the mediocrity.
You'll read a better review elsewhere. Please do so.