By Jena Ardell
By Jon Campbell
By Alan Scherstuhl
By Tessa Stuart
By Roy Edroso
By Jon Campbell
By Albert Samaha
By Zachary D. Roberts
Since its inception in March, this loose assemblage of local musicians, club owners and media reps has been doing a valiant job of bringing together the local music community. Now several members have joined forces and donated songs that will soon be released on CD as a way to bring more attention to the scene.
Unfortunately, the technical quality of the recordings offered for listening at mp3.com isn't very good--and the songs offer just a glimpse of the potpourri of sounds that make up the LI scene. Somehow you'll find no ska, punk, hardcore or funk here.
Let's get the bad and the ugly out of the way first. "Be Still" from Paula Curci, representing The Acoustic Poets Network, is an annoyingly pretentious spoken-word-over-acoustic-guitar piece about the way things are and the way they should be. Self-described alterna-poppers The Slant take the "new" out of "new wave" with a bland and grating B-52's wannabe number, "Game Player." The site explains that the tune was written several years ago. It sure sounds that way.
Black Dawn's "Room of White" represents the raging metal side of things, but the group relies too heavily on overdone goth textures and deep, throaty growls. UniversalDice.com, the band whose My Name Is ThomasCD was a laughable and offensive rip-off of The Who's Tommy, rolls out a tune from that misbegotten disc. "Last Prayer" is a poor attempt at mimicking Townshend's slow acoustic numbers, replete with a misplaced electric guitar solo.
But have faith. There is some good stuff here. Jackalope Junction creates a nice and easy Jimmy Buffet bounce with the rollicking Southern rocker "The Doghouse," making clear why JJ is such a hot live ticket. The tight and tasty bass groove of "The Tempest" creates a flexible bottom for Blue Abyss to rock above, and the ensuing guitar solo is noteworthy.
Kathy Fleischmann is a fine vocalist, and her smoky, countrified blues on "Russian Roulette" prove you don't have to be a down-and-out fat man to sing about your woes. St. Huckleberry's "They Think I'm on Drugs," with its gravelly vocals and meandering fiddle, represents the best track.
More tracks are promised to be posted shortly, but that's no reason to run for cover. Surely, the coalition sports more talented hands than these.
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