Longwave

The Strangest Things

RCA Records

It’s tempting to write off Longwave as yet another mediocre band benefiting from the success of fellow New Yorkers The Strokes. Although the two bands sound nothing alike, a tour supporting the garage rockers resulted in Longwave’s major label debut The Strangest Things. For all its arty Radiohead-esque guitar wavering and contemplative pop melodies, though, the new record is merely nice.

The band’s mellow guitar tone yields a somber mood, evoking a less interesting Interpol. But whereas Interpol glide effortlessly between peppy and solemn, these songs are rarely fun. Even the power-pop infused “Everywhere You Turn” and “All Sewn Up” feel tedious. The album’s low point, appropriately titled “Meet Me at the Bottom,” tries too hard to evoke feelings of uselessness. Perhaps the song does its job too well.

The Strangest Things retains its grave hum throughout. While cohesion is often a good thing, this album only seems wearisome. Nothing exciting happens as potential tensions in the music go unexplored.

Longwave manage a few memorable tracks. “Wake Me When It’s Over” pulls together dream-tinged guitars and Steve Schiltz’s soothing vocals for an affecting opener. “Tidal Wave,” the most fun song, sounds like it came right off of Idlewild’s delightful 100 Broken Windows. “Strangest Things” incorporates odd electronic sounds into a simple melody, creating a sweet ode to life’s little mysteries.

The Strangest Things is pleasant enough, even pretty. However, its tiring atmosphere renders it ultimately forgettable.

—Sarah L. Solorzano

Christian McBride

Vertical Vision

Warner

Judging from his sixth album, Christian McBride is still an unselfish artist. Although his ten years as a musician have earned him a reputation as one of the best young bassists in the jazz scene, McBride’s latest efforts highlights not only his own prowess, but that of his bandmates as well.

Indeed, the album’s strongest point, its freewheeling (but never chaotic) sound, is possible because the band members maintain their individuality so well. Each member of McBride’s band seems to do his own thing with the distinct understanding that they will eventually rejoin.

In “Tahitian Pearl,” Ron Blake’s saxophone converses with McBride’s electric bass until the two finally meet, yielding perhaps the album’s smoothest effort. “Lejos de Usted,” with its samba-influenced rhythm, is also unique for McBride’s bowed bassline, which complements a strong flute performance from Blake. Although the track’s spoken introduction seems extraneous, the interesting play of repetitions that follows more than compensates for it.

Album closer “Boogie Woogie Waltz” is the strongest point. Despite being a studio track, it’s surprisingly improvisatory—meandering for nine minutes and eventually shining.

Though some may find it too soft or electronic, Vertical Vision displays McBride’s versatility and willingness to experiment with different sounds in a jazz context. His ability to work so many layers into a strong and innovative album is commendable.

—Brian D. Goldstein

Soulive

Soulive

Blue Note

After four disappointing studio albums, funk trio Soulive have finally gotten it. Recorded entirely on Mac OS-X (a fact of which the band of brothers and a friend are inordinately proud) during their Fall 2002 tour, this self-titled release is the first of their oeuvre that truly captures their essence. Even though the abundant guest artists that grace their previous albums are gone, their absence isn’t felt—the live setting charges the bare organ, drums and guitar with an energy that is lacking in their too-reserved studio works.

Soulive shows why the band’s venues have ranged from The Blue Note in Tokyo and The Mercury Lounge in New York to opening stints for the Dave Matthews Band and the Rolling Stones. From the fission-fueled track “El Ron” (the album’s best) alone, it’s clear that these three have the chops to be “real” jazz musicians. Yet that’s not what they want—they seem to love the primacy of motion in funk. Not only do Soulive fall in with the older jazz and mainstream blues-rock scenes, they also figure prominently in the CD racks and playlists of jam fans everywhere. Soulive’s songs evoke Phish, with all the improvisatory solos and greater technical mastery, but without the forced lyrics and repetition. In contrast, muscular funk riffs and a musical tightness mark Soulive’s tracks. “Shaheed” could be the soundtrack to some sort of ecstatic and electric ’70s silent cartoon.

Soulive taps Soulive’s versatility and explains their mass appeal. Hippies could trip to this; white boys could try to groove; true jazz fans might even nod their heads in time.

—Alexandra B. Moss

Treble Charger

Detox

VIK

Treble Charger were the answer to mid-’90s Canadian teen angst. Whether rocking out to power-pop anthems like “Friend of Mine” or making out to the doleful ballad “Red,” teenagers knew that Treble Charger made music that mattered. For the rest, their hopelessly obsessive but charged songs were still good fun.

But on Detox, the four boys sound like they’ve put themselves into a pop-rock meat grinder and recorded the output. The chunky, distorted chords of opener “Hundred Million” set the tone for a record in which each track bleeds drearily into the next. “Drive” finally offers a change of pace at the album’s close—only to suffer through a drawn-out experiment in psychedelic guitar solos. Even if you were desperate for more of today’s clean-shaven punk boys and HMV were all out of SUM 41, Detox would still be the leftovers.

This isn’t surprising, given the fact that Treble Charger’s singer/guitarist Greig Nori produced SUM 41’s latest work. The band’s mix of conventional pouty-lipped lyrics, overblown guitars and radio-friendly riffs might make for a hit single, but simply can’t sustain an 11-track album. The Detox formula wears thin far too quickly. Remnants of the original Treble Charger can be heard in the layered and harmonized vocals (they boast two singers), but the predictable three-minute progression of songs such as “Over My Head” negates this creativity. For all the noise, Detox lacks the energy needed to keep Treble Charger going.

—Neasa Coll