A Ripple Road Trip - Miles of Musical Madness

In the convertible Ghia. Top down. Tunes blasting. Love the Ripple life . . .


Kyle Andrews - Real Blasty

First CD popped into the player with a touch of trepidation, not being a fan of much of the "oh so coy" indie-pop crafted by young men locked in their rooms with a keyboard and a copy of ProTools. Think something like Bright Eyes and I'll drift off quicker than a fresh drip of Michael Jackson's propofol. Imagine my surprise then, when the initial hesitant, fully quirky synthesized keyboard stuttered across my speakers, sounding bright and boppy and fun. When was the last time you heard some fun in your indy pop? Kyle Andrews is an adept songwriter who knows how to craft a song with layers of his homegrown instruments, keyboards, guitars, drums, programmed beats and handclaps. Toss in a heaping helping of scholarly songwriting chops, a masterly command of super-sweet melodies, a comfortable, lackadaisical vocal delivery, and a basketful of quirk, and we've got ourselves a new statement in slacker rock. This is a CD that grew on me with each listen. Electronic in backbone, the music never loses it's sense of warmth, and even with the at times spartan arrangements, the songs sound remarkably full and realized.

By the second track "Naked in New York," my ears were fully perked. Big guitars crash through the layers of synth effects, eccentric sounds, smashing beats, and anything else you could imagine someone pulling out of their computer. Energetic, bouncy and jubilant, reminding me of a long-lost one man synth band, The Trees. "Polar Bear," is positively drenched in the sugar of a gorgeous melody so sweet it'd give Willy Wonka a sweet tooth. But it was the fourth track, the aggressive "Call and Fade," with it's leather-laced nasal vocals, Beatles-esque structure, synthed cello, and start and stop verses that really nailed this disc into my head. I may not be a fan of all alt-pop, but as of now, I am a fan of Kyle Andrews.

http://www.kyleandrews.com/


Highway Child - On the Old Kings Road

What Kyle Andrews was to alt-slacker pop, Highway Child is to seventies riff-inspired madman rock and roll--a breath of fresh rocking air. Feeling the wind blowing through my . . . scalp, as this baby took off was like a moment of pure liberation. Traffic be damned, I was gonna gun my Ghia and hit the road! As one might expect from the name, we got loads of Hendrix here, blended in with some serious MK II-era Deep Purple here (sans John Lord), Zeppelin, Nazareth, Hendrix, UFO, and just about any other 1970's riff-maniac band you can imagine. But the creative denizens of Highway Child aren't merely content to regurgitate their influences. No dice. These cats crank up the amps, toss back a few cold ones and let loose a mad six-string bending fury of hard rock fully of their own making.

Certainly, you could go through the disc pointing out the leading influence on each track, like the Zeppelin hurricane of "Lonelytime Blues," or the Hendrix explosion of "Just Like You," but that's not the point here. The boys aren't trying to re-invent rock and roll. They merely love the shit and want to pound that out through their Marshall stacks right into your cerebellum. So plug in your lava lamp, break out your air guitar and make room for a leaping-from-bed-to-couch, rough and raw '70's rock freak-out. Whether driving a chord down your throat in unrelenting fashion like "Highclass Bitch," or dipping into the southern swamps for a loose-strung guitar getdown like, "Gold," this disc is a fist-pumping, head bobbing, flashback to the future of heavy psychedelic rock. Instantly familiar, yet wholly fresh, rocking with the vigor of a hard breeze blowing through an open air concert . . . that's Highway Child.

http://www.myspace.com/highwaychilddk



Jump Back Jake - Brooklyn Hustle/Memphis Muscle

Seriously, the title says it all. Mix in the damn cool as velvet urban rap blues of the Fun Lovin' Criminals with the get-up-and jump beatnik R&B stomp of G Love and the Special Sauce, toss in some downhome soul, grit and dirt, and add a gentle sophistication reminiscent of the Philosopher Kings and we got us a recipe for one fine listening experience. Now, it helps that each band that i just mentioned happen to be some of my favorite bands of all time. Can't help it, there's just something magical about an ultra-smooth, cool as shit mix of soulful blues and a hip hop funk, and let me assure you right away, Jump Back Jake know that mix.

"Easy Answers," positively bops riding on the back of an ultra-funky bass, some scratch guitar and a G Love vocal that simply purrs from the microphone. By the time the bad-ass horns join in the fray, I'm already bopping my head against my driver's seat like some uber-cool hipster at some secret undergroud beat club, just knowing that I'm a touch cooler simply by listening to this shit. Give me a beret and a funny-looking cigarette and the picture is complete. But before you think this is all hipster shit, check out that tasty southern sounding guitar break. This is Memphis muscle infiltrating our Brooklyn Hustle and it's a chalk mark of beauty. I can't wait until my brethren, The Pope, hears "The Flood," for the first time on Ripple Radio. Knowing how much of a fan he is of the Philosopher Kings brand of mega-smooth retro-jazzy blues, he's going to blow a headgasket over this one. Just let those horns pour over you while that bass percolates like lava bubbling from a smoldering volcano. And just listen to that gorgeous guitar tone and those down-low vocals. Hmmm. By the time the song kicks it into fourth gear, I've already polished off a couple of martinis and cried over some long-lost love. Whether dropping into a touch of the south with the slide guitar melody of "Too Cool for Love," or raunching it up and getting muscular with "Terrible Mistakes," Jump Back Jake got some serious soul. Check it. Stream their whole album at http://jumpbackjake.com/




Fuzz Manta - Smokerings

Back to the raging seventies-fueled hard rock, and back in a big mother of a way. As the name implies and the album title makes clear, Fuzz Manta are one unrelenting assault of manic, fuzz-wielding guitar mayhem wrapped up in some serious does of THC and swirling acrid smoke. Stoner rock with a cattleprod to its temple, this is fast and furious, powerful and full-frontal attacking rock and roll. Hailing from Denmark, and featuring one of the few female lead vocalists I know of in the genre. And immediately, it's clear, this chick doesn't mess around. While the boys lose themselves in the rampaging fuzz army of "Cage of Glass," Lene Kjaer Hvillum stands tall amongst the smoke and wreckage of the charging dual guitar attack.

"Night Fright," appropriately brings in some Sabbath, Kyuss, and Fu Manchu for one monster of a downtuned fuzz blitz. Deep stoner with a bottom end that could rouse the fish from a nearby ocean, wave after wave of detuned chords and bass vibrate through my Ghia, causing unsuspecting old ladies in red hats to run away in abject fear. A killer cut, particularly through the mesmerizing choral break which squeal and whines like some nightmare creature from the titled night fright. Terrorizing stuff. "The Killer," manages to find some stoner/hippie riffs that will bring some goosebumps to even the most jaded stoner fan. Lene stands tall, her voice adding just that needed touch of uniqueness to really make the band stand alone. No doubt a killer on the festival circuit, intensely melodic and pulverizingly heavy at the same time. A blitzkrieg of psych madness from deep within the heavy hippie lifestyle. Fuzz Manta are for real.

www.myspace.com/fuzzmanta

--Racer

Kyle Andrews


Highway Child


Jump Back Jake


Fuzz Manta

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