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We used to pal around with this guy who was perhaps the best collector and teller of stories ever to be snuck beers at a bar. Generally, we are of the opinion that once is enough when it comes to re-telling of personal anecdotes, but honestly we had to restrain ourselves in requesting that he tell this tale or that to us yet again. One story in particular stands out as perhaps his greatest hit: the time when Rod Stewart offered him advice on picking up girls in a bar in Italy. Not even really advice, coaching (in his re-telling, he-who-wakes-up-Maggie often had an Australian accent as that was the closest he could affect – the Crocodile Dundeeness of it only added to the fun). This fable of reconstruction was always told over ales and long past when the clock had both arms up, so we cannot and should not relay all the details – but we recall it having a happy ending.

Rod Stewart is not a particularly handsome man. But he has swagger, and he is sexy. He knows it – he wouldn’t ask you if you though he was otherwise. Along with, say, Fonzie, he holds court in a particular branch of the thistle thorn diagram of male sexiness. Oh yes, there are other things besides a leather tie or a leather jacket that makes one sexy, because, as we all know, there are other forms of sexy.

Let’s take a moment to note that R. Kelly trumps all in this sort of a discussion. Moment done. Let’s move on to Handshake Smile, the new LP from 713 crooner Arthur Yoria.

From the outset, Handshake is a dread sexy recording, but definitely not in the Drakkar Noir vein. It’s not the sort of active-sonar sexy that can backfire quickly into the realm of creepy if poorly executed. Nope. It’s more the chill, interesting, good smile, fun vein of sexy; corduroy and suede over silk and chiffon. It’s going to kiss you in the rain, and the entire thing will be filmed by a slowly reverse-tilting boom-mounted camera. Like the person at the bar you have to work your way over towards, it’s engaging before you’ve really figured out how to approach it. Indeed, even if you never get the minerals to go up to it and start a listening conversation, the memory of it sticks with you.

Handshake has ACES pop lyrics, something we don’t generally pay much attention to (words are crap, we contend). It was bedroom produced with a single microphone, which isn’t evident at all from the sound of it, prolly due to the out and out quality of the mixing, the strength of the arrangements, the talent of the players and the, well, sexiness of the songwriting. Catchy can’t begin to describe some of these melodies; showy, corny, flashy or smelling of Cool Water never will. Yoria has put a lot of years into this game, and if the end result of it is going to be records like this, we’re stoked. Rod prolly would be too. No Homo. Recommended.

Catch Arthur Yoria playing around town lots and lots in the upcoming month, but most importantly, at the Feel Good Hits of the Summer Festival Saturday, June 9th at the Proletariat.

Two crucial points of discussion with this EP: 1) the corrosive effect that Mall-Emo slickness has had on the reputation of otherwise earnest statements of teen angst, or those compositions that invoke that style of expression; 2) a counterpoint in the aesthetic of a particular lo-fi recording style in practice locally or, the John Sears Sound.

1) At some point, post Sunny Day Real Estate and the Dischord Records proto-emo that preceded it, youthful introspection with aggrandized emotional catharses un-tempered by a deep pool of life-experience or expectations began to be seen as a commoditizable part of youth culture.

2) The John Sears Sound is typified by a 4-track(?) approach to recording, favoring the capture of on-tape rawness over balanced condenser mic fidelity.

1) The commoditation of this music increased the asset pool available to its practitioners; palettes were smoothed past refinement to gloss; the removal from the inspiration triggers increased; contracts were signed; string parts were composed; haircuts were fashioned; sight was lost of the fun of youth.

2) As much as the particular equipment utilized for the capture of this rawness, the John Sears Sound has, as a distinct thread running through its resume, a decision (deliberate or otherwise) to record those bands that count among their top three associations ‘fun:’ House parties; floor shows; endless turkey puns; French bistro inspired silliness.

1) The pearly-white of Mall-Emo, with its automobile-sponsored headline tours, Guitar Magazine featurettes and TRL appeal became inexorably disconnected from the untested, youthful and simple (NOT a derisive term) source of it’s inception, leading to the inevitable dismissal of such expressions (regardless of the actual age of the composers) as ‘so emo.’

2) Is it any coincidence that all of these releases were put out on CDR (if that) and contain the hallmarks of artifact self-assembly? Each is DIY beyond any questions of authenticity.

The Tenspeeds self-titled EP is one of those records whose lo-fi pop sound turns back the physical clock to the time of zines/mail-order catalogs and the mental/cardiovascular clock to the playful optimism of the first week of summer break. Considering the band is on indefinite hiatus with guitar/vocalist Brad (ex-Rosa, the band which drummer Kirke also hailed from) relocated to Bloomington, we suggest you start your summer off with this ACES recording as a substitute.

MP3: The Tenspeeds – Build it with Bricks

The Tenspeeds EP is available at Sound Exchange, or via mail-order from passionateyouththing records. Catch recorder and Tenspeeds guitarist John Sears in what is claimed to be the final performance of his latest band, Le Thargic, tonight at Notsuoh with Cop Warmth and Chief Death Rage.

In the beginning, there was Rock and Roll and there was no need for supplemental adjectives. Times were simpler then. But now, longer in the tooth perhaps, but just as vital, we find rock and roll to be like nearly anything out there – requiring clarification. Classic Rock, Hard Rock, College Rock, Indie Rock, Punk Rock, Country Rock, Christian Rock, Math Rock, Art Rock, Progressive Rock, and on and on and on. Even the great one, Billy Joel, in his bemoaning celebration of the back-beat’s diversity (‘It’s Still Rock and Roll to Me), is unable to take a completely rejectionist standpoint, employing himself a number of the quick and dubiously descriptive labels on which we all rely for such things as the sound of white boys playing with skinny ties.

Now old enough to be teased about its age with a birthday party of black balloons and greeting cards with instructions on ear-hair grooming, Rock and Roll, as an unaccompanied descriptive label, has gone full circle post-modern. Originally, “Rock and Roll” was slang from the Black Venacular to mean sex (‘rock’ being ‘shake up’ as in “rock the boat” and ‘roll’ being an English term for the nasty in use for hundreds of years, such as “roll in the hay”). So, while we may have it shatterpainted onto our brains the third part of the phrase “Sex, Drugs and….”, its pretty unlikely that very man of us drop the needle on a Roy Orbison LP and think of it as Sex Music.

No. Nowadays, Rock and Roll, and a description for a particular form of rock music, has come to describe an approach to the genre which hyper-embodies the particular cultural connotations and myths associated with the phenomenon. Sex and drugs are a part of this. So is hard living, fast dying, deals with the devil, a general toughness, the preference for volume and directness over subtlety and a predilection for living by one’s own anti-societal rules with the consequences not generally rising to the necessity of changing one’s behavior. Banging your head for an example to put meaning to our Liberal Arts mumbo jumbo? Go pick up a copy of the Hell City Kings/I am Wolf split 7”.

On it, the Kings put forth two convincing exhibits as to why they are among Houston’s best in Chuck Berry-ish parent frightening, popping up seamlessly in any coctail party (ok, Jaeger and Lone Star drinking binge) where Rock and Roll re-invigorators like Turbonegro and The Murder City Devils would be welcome. Their contributions to the split, ‘Soundtrack to the Apocalypse’ and ‘Rock it Like You Talk It’ are maximizing in their attitude, invigoratingly straight-forward in their structure and positively uninterested in navel-staring lyrical contemplation on topics such as the loss of a favorite cardigan. Streets run with blood; the devil comes calling; the fight of your life; switchblades, freight-trains and dead-end roads. The guitars blister from the heat of their licks and the gain of their overdrive; the drummer is not taking it easy.

I Am Wolf is a perfect pairing for when you flip the acetate, even though there is far greater temptation to throw the word ‘punk’ into one’s description of them (you are free to disagree – anyone who owns Damaged only so they can play ‘TV Party’ at hipster-dance parties is far from qualified to say what is and is not punk rock). Though with song titles alone (‘Devil in You’ and ‘Drinking and Thinking’) IAW lay out a convincing and fun Rock and Roll argument that refuses to use coasters on nice furniture. It too is ragged, most likely does not closely monitor compliance with the FDA food pyramid and is definitely not on a first name basis with their local drycleaner. Recommended.

The Hell City Kings/I Am Wolf split is available online from Interpunk, and features screened artwork designed by local poster hero Give Up. You can catch the Hell City Kings June 9th at Rudyard’s with Whorehound. I Am Wolf’s next Houston outing is June 26th with Looser Life at Notsuoh.