Invariably, once I find out where a band is from, I start wondering if I can compare them with other bands from the same region. And what I mean by that is that a lot of bands from Gainesville, FL sound similar in the same fashion as pop punk bands from the Bay Area sound the same. North Lincoln hails from Michigan…so my first thought was-do these guys sound like Small Brown Bike?  That was the first, and predominate, band from Michigan that sprang to mind; and I’m sure there are other great bands that I don’t know, and maybe some that I know and just don’t realize are from Michigan. You know what I mean? I don’t study into music and bands as much as I once did.

So, the question- directed at myself- was, do they sound like Small Brown Bike? And the answer is….kind of. North Lincoln definitely has the penchant for gruff thrashings of the SBB of old, balanced with the more melodic points of the band that pervaded their final days (i.e. The River Bed). But a one trick pony, North Lincoln is not; these guys have a lot of different textures and sounds going on, constantly changing and adapting. We have a saying in Ohio about our weather-“Don’t like the weather? Wait five minutes, it’ll change”. The same could be said about these guys, but on a miniscule scale. While there are slight changes in musical temperature from time to time; it’s nothing drastic.

Those changes often come in the midst of one track, with vocals flowing from softer melodic vocals to scathingly gruff enunciations. Midwestern Blood comes off sounding dirty yet dignified at the same time; like malt liquor being drank from a brandy snifter.  Just the knowledge of North Lincoln’s record label, No Idea Records, is enough to give you a pretty good indication of what this album sounds like. No Idea bands, for the most part, come with a set sound. Gruff, soulful punk rock; and these guys carry on in that tradition. You know this like you know that if you see Trustkill imprinted on the spine of an album… most likely,whiny metal played by dudes with eyeliner is contained within.

Not that it will take away from the listening experience of this album knowing that. North Lincoln share a similar sound with lots of their record label peers, but are far from Small Brown Bike clones and far from being a bunch of dudes trying to bite Hot Water Music’s sounds. As a reviewer, it’s my job to throw around all these comparisons and generic terms in an attempt to give the general feel of an album; and it’s your duty, as a reader and music lover, to either vindicate my appraisal or call bullshit on the whole thing. If Diatribe operated on a number scale to judge albums, I’d give this 8/10.

Let’s begin with a slight correction; Arson is actually for criminals looking at 5-10 years in prison, not lovers. So aside from the emo-cliché of an album title let me fill you in on what I do like from independent musicians Merit. 

Front-woman Brenna Merritt, is reminiscent of fem-vocalist Agent M of the underground pop-punk sensation Tsunami Bomb. However, the music it’s self is nothing too familiar. Merit earns its badge with a slightly sunnier take on the unclassified “indie rock” gene. So basically they are a rock & roll band like many before them.  We’ll break is down as such: Dynamic guitar parts that drive thru punk rock moments, with some bouncier almost ska choruses, and the occasional ballad feeling. However, the produced their own album, and this alone merits the “indie” sew-on patch in the industry.

Furthermore, their odd, yet selective style reminds me of Coheed and Cambria in their hay days. I’m most enchanted by the song “Fess Up”. It especially has that Coheed feel to it, especially when listening to the pitch shifting she (Merritt) does with her voice. There are some really amazing things going on here if you take the time to pick the album apart like I have done.

Impressive music becomes increasingly harder to come by, especially as you, the individual, change and evolve you opinions in what you look for in that perfect musical chemistry. You know when it hits you because you have to listen to it until you’re ears are sore from those ear-buds. It’s a constant analyzing of the entire album for more audible treasures. Well, Merit’s Arson is for Lovers is not one of those. Sorry. However, they are scraping at the door of something good here. I’ll make sure to keep my ear on them throughout the years.

If you’re anything like me, and around the same age, your first chance encounter with CIV probably came in the form of their 1995 video for “Can’t Wait One Minute More”.  As a Midwestern fifteen year old kid hearing what was, at the time, seemingly just a catchy song and moderately entertaining video, I had no idea of the resounding implications it would cause; the full scale musical genesis that was going on, unbeknownst to me, in my life. I was just an impressionable youth watching MTV-who at the time still actually played music videos (for better or worse) – and didn’t realize I was gaining my first insights into hardcore.

Now, CIV itself did not play quite as a significant role as the last paragraph might have let on; it was my discovery months later that the band was headed up by Anthony Civarelli, former vocalist of legendary hardcore band Gorilla Biscuits that really served to promote my growth in the punk rock and hardcore scenes. But CIV was an important piece in the overall puzzle. By age fifteen, I was totally immersed in skateboard culture and had been listening to bands like Pennywise, NOFX and No Use for a Name, but it was this chance viewing of a music video that really set the groundwork for getting into what I found was the ‘real stuff’…the meat and potatoes of independent music that would set me on a path that leads up to today and the days following this. Weird how that works out.

CIV did not play traditional hardcore music by a long stretch; most of their songs were a blending of hardcore and pop punk with a lot of elements of what would have been referred to as an ‘alternative’ sound. Every once in a while though, the Gorilla Biscuits references would shine through and  “Do Something”, “State of Grace” and “Gang Opinion” are perfect examples of this. Regardless of what classification you want to lump their songs into, CIV’s songs were catchy and fun and at the end of the day that’s all that matters.

This double disc discography is great for conveniently having their full catalog in one package (duh.) complete with B-sides and live tracks.  If you like CIV, but were never inspired enough to go and search out all their releases, like me, then this is the perfect alternative option.

The one thing that I love about My Heart to Joy is their mastery of the quiet to loud dynamic; it was something that was carried out well on the last release, but Seasons in Verse shows that these guys now have it down to a relative science. I was incredibly impressed with My Heart to Joy’s last offering, the Virgin Sails 7” and was pretty eager to hear more from the band, so when Seasons in Verse arrived at my doorstep, I was ready to be even more stoked or horribly disappointed, in the unfortunate case of regression. The musical winds of change are a fickle zephyr of indecisiveness and you never know if you’ll get a warm breeze in your face or your house left in ruins.

No worries though; Seasons in Verse is just as captivating and exciting as the last installment. A track from the 7” also makes an appearance on the album. That song is “All of Life is Coming Home”; it was my favorite track on Virgin Sails and like a favorite story told by an old friend, it was a welcome and comforting addition. And it’s really no surprise that it made its way here as well; out of all the songs I’ve heard from these guys, it is their most defining…at least for me. This song perfectly showcases their penchant for creating intricate emotional punk, with angular soaring melodies and occasionally gruff lyrical deliveries. The remainder of the album surrounding this track follows suit in all the right ways.

There does seem to be a slight change of style with this record; which would be a lessening of screamy elements but a heightened focus on melody. Regardless, it doesn’t take away one ounce of energy from Seasons in Verse…if anything, it makes the heavier moments more explosive. When it’s all said and done, My Heart to Joy just excels at a brand of emotional music that so many have bastardized and failed at in the past. These guys know the true meaning of emo and know it has nothing to do with sad MySpace haircuts, The Nightmare Before Christmas tattoo sleeves and sloppy teenage heartsick ballads. This is an accomplished band getting back to the roots, and heart, of emo music. This is the album I’ve been the most excited about so far this year.

After analyzing the hell of this album I’m still left with indecision, but will try to remain slightly pensive throughout the review if possible.

On one hand Christopher Browder is an extremely talented musician, but then again Johnnie Cochran was an extremely talented lawyer. Neither individual has done the world any better. This album literally makes me want to sit on a pencil, with my ear! Let me make this clear; just because I recognize the talent behind Mr. Browder doesn’t mean I need to relive it by hitting the repeat/shuffle button on my CD player. Once through was enough to make an informed opinion here.

Where to begin? Christopher Browder has that same dry-echoed voice that Conner Oberst of Bright Eyes strived so hard to pull off. It’s exceedingly annoying and carries no real musical notation or merit. To make matters worse, the voice doesn’t match the power-pop-punk that he’s writing here. I expected to here some kind of half-ass Depeche Mode synthesized knock off, but instead I’m hearing some heartbreak high school bullshit from somebody in his mid 20’s, which may be worse. I would be embarrassed for him if I attended a show. I suppose you could argue that his style is just… different, and my retort would be, so is Charles Manson. In summary, no parole for Manson and no props for Mansions.

New Best Friends is an uninventive, recycled, afterthought at a music career. This is truly a shame because, just as I prefaced, this kid has some talent. Unfortunately, said talent has been squandered, and utilized in the wrong direction. The song “Talk Talk Talk,” is the only song I can stomach due to a creative opening guitar part. So if you need to sample this music for some irrational reason, start out with the song just mentioned above.

This Fisher Price ® album is recommended for ages 12-16 or any emotastic kids with ex-girlfriend vendettas.

After listening to a few tracks on Nothing Collapses, and continually fast forwarding and rewinding, it became abundantly clear that this is a mostly instrumental album. There’s little on this album in the way of lyrics or words or anything remotely resembling sounds that usually emit from human mouths. I know for a fact that there are singing parts on “Boy Detective” and after that the existence of further singing remains in a gray area. The press sheet that came with the album clearly denotes a vocalist of some sort, but I gave up searching for further vocal parts after about twenty minutes. This album is roughly sixty minutes, with nine tracks; do the math. That’s an average of six minutes a song…I don’t have that kind of time.

Now, don’t get me wrong, the instrumentation on this album is excellent and in some cases phenomenal. But for me music, no matter how well played or beautiful, is sorely lacking without a steady lyrical accompaniment. Drums, guitar and bass may be the engine that drives the song, but words are the tool in which a connection with the listener is made; a conduit that links minds within a singular idea or situation. Any good show I’ve ever attended featured the audience singing back the words to a band and sharing an experience together. I can only imagine that at an Oceans show, the crowd just does a lot of swaying with brief periods of air guitar and/or drums.

My cohort Paddy brought up the valid point that an instrumental album is great background noise when you’re deep in thought or writing; and I’d have to agree. If you need some possibly mind expanding noise playing in your subconscious while writing, doing homework or cleaning the kitchen, then Nothing Collapses is the album for you. If you, like me, enjoy and require the symbiosis between chords and vocals, you’ll probably need to look elsewhere. Maybe if I would’ve stuck it out and delved deeper into this album, I would’ve came away with a lot more insight into what Oceans is trying to do. Maybe there are some hidden lyrics and ideas that were just waiting around the corner before I skipped each track, but I tired of waiting for something to happen. I get a lot of albums in on a regular basis, and if you hope to grab my attention, you have to do it fast.

The Oceans music machine, for what it’s worth, is a finely tuned contraption that churns out emotive and beautiful sounds; I just simply require more words to latch on to. Looking back, this album probably would’ve fared better in the hands of someone a little more open minded, but it landed in this reviewers lap and I had to give Nothing Collapses the most honest and fair write up that I could muster. Opinions are like assholes…and this is just this asshole’s opinion.

This debut EP from Barry Mielke and Darryl Silvestri is nothing short of a drag. Hold the phone you sub-critic snobs! By “a drag” I mean to say that the music is a slow and  a rather soft walk back to the Rival Schools days of old. If you’re unfamiliar with the band-name drop just now, then just think of the perfectly over played and under-sung composition you can and then slow the tempo down slightly more. That should depict it.

It’s nothing too original, but I can help but fall for the soft melodic licking of the guitar at my ear. Disgusting music pundits often mistakenly refer to this as “emo”. The concept gets thrown around like a severely battered wife, so just come up with more in depth descriptions next time Mr. Hot Topic.

Aside from beautiful guitar and limited vocal arrangements, the ladder two songs contain absolutely no vocals and take on a completely different beast. I could easily liken this beast to groups such as God is an Astronaut and Explosion in the Sky, both cases being quite the compliment. If you’re totally lost in this review then don’t worry. This is one of these albums that won’t disappoint many with any musical taste and patients. That’s right patients. If you’re someone that must have instant gratification from a CD then you’ll never find the center of this inde-rock tootsie-pop.

In conclusion, I honestly don’t know much about these artists or any other projects they stem from; mostly because my reviews don’t entail doing research on music, but rather closely listening to it. If you want these trivial facts I’m sure they can be produced at punknews.org. There are some really beautiful moments throughout this EP. Highly Recommended!

While no one could classify his singing voice as conventionally melodious, Chris Wollard’s raspy evocations carry a lot of warm tones beneath the gruff exterior. On this album, he tends to sound a little hollow, tonally, and he frequently sounds detached from the musical surroundings.  It was a little off putting at first, just because I’m accustomed to hearing a little more energy in his voice; like with his vocal parts in Hot Water Music or The Draft. After the initial shock wore off, I eased into this new style comfortably; in many ways it reminds me of some of the alternative rock I enjoyed in the early nineties.

First and foremost, I was pleased to see that this project wasn’t just going to be another Rumbleseat or a reimagining of The Blacktop Cadence; this is something altogether new from Wollard. I’m a huge fan of both of those bands, but I didn’t want this to be a hardcore country album or a hardcore indie album; I wanted some just a little different. But I guess not too different because this is a perfect combination of both. If you just want to hear some rock music, Wollard and his band of thieves deliver.

 Sure, there’s a shit-ton of folk influence on this record; but when you build such a solid foundation with acoustic guitar, that fact is completely inescapable. Surrounding these stripped down instrumentations are dense layers of atmospheric sounds that are constantly swirling and pulsating; giving the whole album a spacey feel.  This is far from your typical ‘punk guy throwing on a plaid shirt and embracing his country roots’ album,  the kind that makes up about 95% of the solo albums that you’ve heard from  punk artists in the past several years.

If you’re familiar with Chris Wollard- and if you’re reading anything on this site, it’s pretty much a given that you are- you probably don’t need me to tell you that this is good.  Like sunsets and kittens and the smell of a freshly powdered baby it’s just subconsciously and aesthetically pleasing. The whole thing started off a bit rocky for me, but I completely came around within a few days, and now I couldn’t even tell you why it rubbed me the wrong way in the first place. You need to discover this for yourself.

I must first express how fascinated I am with the overall vocal quality of this record. I knew the Lagwagon founder could belt out some notes, but to carry a tune like this? Color me surprised. I do believe I would pay top dollar to see this performance.

If you’re a wary die hard Lagwagon fan, rest assured, several of these tunes are Lagwagon jams put to acoustic greatness. The roster includes old favorites like “Canoe” and “B Side”. If you’re going to have someone put these songs to an acoustic setting, it might as well be the guy that wrote them. We are even led down much earlier path with the nostalgic “The Ramones Are Dead”, a song that may very well have given birth to the “skater punk” era. It’s pretty nice to buy a new album and be able to sing right along the first time through. This also reminds you of how old you’re getting.

Aside from former bands Lagwagon and Bad Astronaut (independent music project), Cape has much more to offer here. I mean this release really does stand on its own two feet. This is not just guy from Lagwagon, this is Joey motha-fuck’n Cape! This album alone  has set a precedence for what may be several solo-acoustic albums to come. I almost feel like I’m putting in a Neil Young album for a relaxing evening. I would even be interested to see what future collaborations in the way of side projects are to come. Austin Lucas, or possibly Chuck Ragan? The sky is the limit. You guys keep making good albums and we’ll keep buying/reviewing them.

This is a diamond in the Suburban Home rough, and I f you can’t see that then I say to you good day sir. I said good day!