Review: Cy Curnin, Solar Minimum (cycurnin.com)

"New wave" bands sometimes get a bad rap, but anyone who put his or her wine cooler down for 5 minutes back in the 80's knows there was a lot more to The Fixx than skinny dudes running from barking Dobermans in a white tunnel while singing "One Thing Leads to Another." No, these guys had some heavy-duty stuff on their collective brows, from nuclear annihilation to self-alienation to the struggle to find inner peace - and they did it all while dodging models in red dresses falling through the skylight.


More than 25 years later, the Fixx are still at it, and while they may not be as prolific as they once were or enjoy the same level of chart success they once did, they have defied the naysayers and remained true to their artistic vision of funky rock songs as the ongoing soundtrack to man's search for enlightenment and serenity in a seriously f'ed up cosmos.


Meanwhile, Cy Curnin, lead singer and chief lyricist for the band, has vented some of his excess creative steam by releasing a series of superb solo albums over the last few years. His latest, "Solar Minimum," could be his most intimate and personal to date. Whereas early Fixx songs always grabbed the listener by the scruff and tried to whip him into shape, the songs on "Solar Minimum" seduce the brain with gentle piano chords, lilting strings, and conversational melodies that unfold at their own pace.


While such an approach results in an album less immediately accessible than, say, "Reach the Beach," the overall experience may be more gratifying as a whole. Tracks like "Other Side of the Story," "Sail," and "Better Luck Next Time" find Curnin in uber-reflective mode, a modern-day troubadour on an endless mystical search for the meaning of "Life" (with a capital "L").


Curnin has always been an emotive singer, but on "Solar Minimum" he ups the ante by serving up some of his most haunting vocals to date. On the aforementioned "Story" he starts things off by exploring his affecting lower register (and when I say low, I mean he's like subterranean, baby), before harmonizing with his own "Fixx-like" persona by song's end. Likewise, on the moody, minor-keyed "Simply Complicated," he's so overcome with emotion that words begin to fail him and he lapses into a mournful "LO, LO, LO, LO" chorus. You can almost picture the French Café and guys in berets nearby.


Other highlights include "It Finds You," with its decidedly funky, Fixx-ish vibe, "My Sweet Life," on which words of regret ultimately give way to reggae-tinged gospel, and "The Weight," a confessional piece of prose set to Curnin's tender piano figures.


Listening to me describe "Solar Minimum" you might think you're in for a whole bunch of hokey emotional bombast. Quite the contrary, Curnin's production is so restrained and the delivery so sincere that the overall effect is never anything short of pretty damn moving. And while this isn't a Fixx album proper, Fixx-o-philes will be pleased to know that a couple of Cy's bandmates pop in for a visit, with a certain surname-hyphenated guitarist lending a little electric muscle to tunes like "In the Palm of Our Hands."


In short, if you're looking for a CD with 12 carbon-copies of "One Thing," then pass this by and simply pick up a Rhino "Just Can't Get Enough" 80's comp instead. However, if you're looking for a richly rewarding and thoughtful work by an artist trying to lend aural comfort to his fellow "travelers," then you might want to check out Cy Curnin's latest. It's called "Solar Minimum," but Curnin definitely gave "the max" on this one.


*** ½ (three-and-a-half out of five stars)


Notable Tracks: "The Other Side of the Story," "My Sweet Life," "Simply Complicated," "Better Luck Next Time," "Sail"

Review: The Damned, So Who's Paranoid? (English Channel)

Hey there music fans! This month, in honor of my being a big ol' lazy-ass, I'll be taking a break and turning over the reviewing reins to our special guest critic, the editor of "Real Punk!!!" magazine, Dickie "Mashpit" (???) Moroney. Take it away, Dickie!






Ever since Green Day single-handedly invented punk rock way, WAY back in 1994 (thereby giving skateboarders something to listen to at the mall and obliterating boring, corporate rock bands like The Pixies and The Dead Milkmen), it really ruffles my hoodie when some new, loser no-talents come along and try to mess with the seminal templates put forth by the great-granddaddies of punk: Offspring, AFI, Good Charlotte, and the all-mighty Blink-182. For example, take these jokers, THE DAMNED, and what I believe to be their first album, "So Who's Paranoid?"


OY! Where to start? First of all, let's take the name, "The Damned." Yeah, real original guys. It kinda makes me wanna ask these fakes, "Hey you posables, haven't you ever heard of "Damn YANKEES? Or the "DamnWELLS?" Sheeesh, maybe they should have checked allmusic guide before trying to steal some of Ted Nugent's muted thunder. But don't be fooled! There's nothing on this CD that sounds ANYTHING like "High Enough" by Damn Yankees (who, I believe, invented heavy metal and strip clubs, according to Wikipedia).


No, instead of something cool like that, or anything approaching PURE punk rock like the kind Bowling for Soup do so well it's like they just pulled it out of their collective asses, we get an hour or so of some wretched PUNK-GOTH-PSYCHEDELIA-ROCK bullcrap I can barely listen to, let alone describe, but god help me, I'll try.


First off, what is with the singer? Instead of singing in a nasally, super-cool-cause-it's-slightly-flat voice, this guy - Dave Vivian Vance or something - is actually SINGING at times! Yeah, you heard me right; he's doing a weird croony thing and singing melodies that actually sound inventive and different from one song to the next. I mean, what the F**K??? I don't know about you folks, but I'm not happy if my punk songs don't all have identical, interchangeable, shouty vocals, especially in the "we-must-get-this-song-played-on-corporate-radio-at-all-costs-so-screw-musical-integrity" chorus.


Not only that, but this "Dave" guy doesn't randomly scream from time to time like he's literally trying to tear his vocal cords in two and generate some artificial punk "intensity." Oh sure, he shouts, but he only does it when - get this - he has a reason to! This lame-o actually has a theatrical/campy goth vibe, like someone who's watched too many b-grade horror films. And when I say "horror films," I mean the old black and white crap with people like Boris Carlott, Peter Cushion, and Dick Chaney Jr.; I'm not talking about the totally rad new stuff like "Hostel 2" or "Turistas."


Anyway, I could almost bear the gothic thing D.V.'s got going, but the dude goes about it all wrong. Instead of sounding all super-serious and overly-important when he sings (like he might off himself or the listener at any moment), this tool actually has a sense of humor about what he's doing, like he's in on the joke. WHAT??? NONONO! That's ALL WRONG!!! If you're gonna go dark, you gotta make sure you're dangerously close to lapsing into unintentional self-parody at any second.


I could swear this "Dave" fellow thinks that punk rock is about crafting your own eclectic style, rather than following the iron-clad rules laid down by cool trailblazers like Fall Out Boy. Damn, at least Fall Out Boy have a wide assortment of bad-ass t-shirts and backpack pins down at Hot Topic, which means they must be good.


However, even worse than the singing on "So, Who's Paranoid?" is the horrendous music underneath it. For the most part, this stuff is like hooky garage rock and tripped-out psychedelia performed with raucous punk energy and delivered with a slightly dark edge. I know, SOUNDS TERRIBLE RIGHT??? GAKKK!!! Who wants to listen to clever chord patterns when Green Day has just re-released "Dookie" (renamed "21st Century Breakdown") for the 8th time in a row??? Who wants songs stuck in their head for days on end??? Man, I've got to clear out any extra cerebral space ASAP so I have room for the 75 or so rocking new tunes the record companies want me to download this week. Now you know why these "Damned" guys ain't on a major label, like all great punk bands.


Seriously, track after annoying track on this CD just reeks of tunefulness and cool, fuzzed-out guitar riffs. Not only that, but there's all kinds of weird sounds that should never be on a "punk" album (according to my friends), like rock organs and bells and handclaps and Brighton-gay-men's choirs, and HELL, if I didn't know better, I'd swear these guys are trying to expand their musical palette by even listening to classical from time to time!!! I think they need to put away anything from the "Romantic" period and spend a little more time listening to My Chemical Romance, if you know what I mean.


So, there you have it: "So Who's Paranoid" by this week's flash-in-the-pan punk band "The Damned" is a total misfire. Hummable and catchy, yes, but, COME ON! There's literally not ONE song on here that, with a little bit of tweaking to the arrangement, could be turned into a full-blown top 40 hit for Pink. And that's just not punk rock, man.


And what's with the guy in the red beret? What a winker.


Zero Stars!


*************************************************************


Nite Owl note: Despite what our guest reviewer thinks, my own personal ranking of "So Who's Paranoid" by punk legends the Damned is:


**** (four out of five stars)


Notable Tracks: "Under the Wheels," "Dr. Woofenstein," "Shallow Diamonds," "Danger to Yourself," "Perfect Sunday"

Faux News Flash: Desperate for Inspiration, Bruce Springsteen Attempts to Burn Down Recently Revitalized Asbury Park When No One's Looking

(Asbury Park, New Jersey) Citing a depressing dearth of metaphor-inspiring abandoned buildings, as well as the staggering failure of his latest CD, "Sunrise over the Sand," rock mega-star Bruce Springsteen claimed he was driven to desperation this past weekend when he attempted to burn down the newly rejuvenated Asbury Park boardwalk and convention hall.



"Man, y'all don't understand. I need inspiration! I just can't sing about burgeoning businesses and artists making an economic comeback on their own terms," croaked Mr. Springsteen as he was taken into custody near the Stone Pony Rock Club, where he was found brandishing a full can of gasoline and a Zippo brand lighter at 3:48 am Sunday morning. "I mean, first there was Obama giving us all hope for the future, and now we've got nice, clean storefronts on this formerly run-down and desolate strip of Ocean Avenue? Man, that's just freakin' depressing."



According to sources, Springsteen, who has made billions of dollars using Asbury Park's poverty-stricken streets as a creative springboard for writing hundreds of infectious, hummable, rock-and-roll tunes, had been recently overheard bemoaning the infusion of cash into the long-suffering shore town. In a recent interview published in Cigar Aficionado magazine, Springsteen stated, "I can write about the way Christine and Danny's once-promising relationship has decayed and faded like the walls of the [recently demolished] Palace Amusements. Or I can compare a down-on-her-luck stripper to an old, beat-up tilt-a-whirl.



"But Jesus, what am I supposed to say about that upscale sushi joint on the corner?" Springsteen continued. "I guess I could write about their inability to provide a decent wasabi paste, or their failure to bring the cocktails in a timely fashion… er, not that I would know about that, of course. Heh."



When pressed further, Springsteen, whose songs have propelled him to god-like icon status while arguably fomenting learned helplessness and a fatalistic mentality in the working class by romanticizing their plight, ennobling questionable life choices, and mythologizing shitty economic circumstances, went on to say, "I guess I could write about how garish everything is now and how it all lacks integrity… ah, let's face it, I'm gonna bitch no matter what this place looks like."



Adding to Springsteen's growing dismay in the last few months was the resounding flop of his latest single, "Yacht Town." Moreover, a close friend revealed that "The Boss" was angered when someone pointed out that "My Lucky Day" sounds a bit too much like the chorus to [80's rock band] The Cutting Crew's ill-fated second single, "One for the Mockingbird."



Springsteen was released on 5 million dollars bail early Tuesday afternoon. In a surprising turn of events, the songwriter was reportedly in good spirits, having quickly penned 53 songs for a planned triple-CD about the injustices of the Asbury Park penal system, which, for two nights straight, denied him access to his favorite brand of red wine and forced him to use a pillow with a thread count of less than 500.



No date has been set for Springsteen's trial. When questioned about his immediate plans, the Jersey rocker smiled and whispered in his trademark gruff voice, "I've got this new album of prison songs I need to record. And while Asbury Park is doing ok right now, I think we can all agree that the U.S. economy at large is still pretty much f---ed. People are out of work, down on their luck, and struggling just to get by. So things are definitely looking up."

The Death of Music, Part 7: "Nothing Songs"

As an amateur songwriter, I can honestly say I've written some bad tunes in my day. You know, the kind of song that's so ripe that fish wrapped in newspaper say, "WHOA, what the hell's that smell?" However, one thing I can honestly say I steadfastly resist at all costs is writing the "nothing song."


For those of you who don't know what I mean by the term "nothing song," I mean something that's even worse than bad: a nebulous ball of chords and notes with no compelling reason to exist, other than (usually) financial gain. The nothing song, as I define it, isn't bad OR good; it's just… THERE.


You've definitely heard nothing songs even if you think you haven't. Nothing songs can be competent, tuneful, pleasant, and even catchy. They often go down pretty easy. However, they also tend to be depressingly generic and nondescript. They tend to follow in the wake of hundreds (if not thousands) of songs with a similar sound before them. Simply stated, a nothing song is inoffensive enough, but you have to ask yourself while listening, "Did this REALLY need to be written? Is this adding anything important or significant to the already billions and billions of songs out there?"


And they don't have to be love ballads or soft rock songs, either. Even songs with loud, angry guitars or surly, wailing vocals can qualify for nothing-hood by virtue of their inconsequential nature.


I know what a lot of you are thinking: "You're talking about POP songs man! It's supposed to be disposable fun! Lighten up!" To which I reply, with a derisive snort, "PURE BUNK!" (Heh.) There are plenty of disposable "pop" (or "rock") songs which are fun and catchy as well as smart, unique and innovative. Just because something is classified as a "pop song" doesn't mean it gets a free pass to be non-inspiring, derivative dross.


And seriously folks, I honestly don't think my standards are THAT high. When I hear a song, all I want is some sort of sign - however muted - that the artists involved might have actually gotten worked up or cared about the notes they were laying down, and that they didn't bolt from the studio 5 seconds later and make a beeline for the bank deposit window.


This is why a nothing song can truly be worse, in a sense, than a flat-out BAD song. At least with (some) bad songs you get the distinct impression that someone really cared about what they were doing. At least with (some) bad songs you feel the passion and effort that went into making it, however atrocious the final result may be. And sometimes, amidst all the utter awfulness of a bad song, you can still catch glimmers of inspiration and creativity that nearly carry the tune and save it from outright suckiness.


Not so with a nothing song! Nothing songs are far, far more insidious than that. They usually have no personality, charm or vitality to speak of, because they tend to be homogenized within an inch of their commercialized lives. Any and all impurities are methodically distilled out of them, and they have no real spice or spark propelling them along. Hell, they have no real reason for being at all!!! And, more often than not, the producers of nothing songs try to hide the nothing status behind immaculate production, tried-and-true chord changes or a clear, powerful singing voice. But don't be fooled! These songs are sheer black holes of sound, sucking up precious vibrations in the air.


Basically, the goal of the nothing song is to be as innocuous and inoffensive as possible while simultaneously appealing to as many people as it can reach. The end result of this delicate balancing act is usually a reasonable, but ultimately unsatisfying, aural concoction which most people describe in terms like "not bad," "is what it is," "gets the job done," or "pleasant enough." Think about it. Do those sound like good reasons for any song to exist?


I personally respect my pop and rock music more than that, and so should you.

New Song: Love Is a Spider

Hey folks... if you get a chance, check out the new song over on
www.myspace.com/glennpagemusic called "Love Is a Spider." This one was written about a year ago but recorded last week. The melody and chords have a somewhat exotic feel to them, or at least I think they do, and that's why the lyrics turned out sort of dark and noir-ish. Or are they? Maybe I'm just imagining things. Either way... stop on by and let us know what you think.

Thanks for listening...