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Beautiful Things and a Little Pain

Chuck Mindenhall

Published on December 06, 2001

Photo by Jamie Trueblood REMY ZERO
The Golden Hum (Elektra)

For Remy Zero's much-anticipated follow-up to the crestfallen memoir Villa Elaine to materialize, it took 1,300 days — a time that saw the band change labels, saw them deal with the first round of celebrity-cultism and recoil deep into one another, saw them further reinforce their mystique, which is based on that something we all want but rarely possess: an appreciation of the moment. The result is the beautifully profound The Golden Hum.

"Hum seems like looking through the opposite side of the telescope from Villa Elaine, but still at the same 20 square miles of dry insanity called L.A.," says guitarist Shelby Tate. "It's more bizarre and surreal, though most people will think it more sane," singer Cinjun Tate amplifies. "It's all smiles, light, beautiful things and a little pain."

Producer Jack Joseph Puig masterfully extracted the richest components from Villa Elaine — the fragility of Cinjun's voice and the idea of divinity through pure imperfection (musically speaking) — and centered everything on them. Puig, called "a gentle tyrant" by drummer Greg Slay and "psychopathic, but a great guy" by Cinjun, pinpointed the essence of Remy Zero's urge to drift, and structured it into a masterful collection of self-assertive, eternally philosophical songs.

"I'm Not Afraid," "Smile" and the hit single "Save Me" cling to airs of the most naked vulnerability, delivered through the absolute longing in Cinjun's voice. "Over the Rails," which, Shelby explains, "tries to find vast heroism in quitting drugs," turns on the aggression that made Villa Elaine's "Prophecy" stand out, while "Out/In" is the unheralded gem; the wearier "Bitter" and "Glorious #1," both written by Shelby, balance the rest of the album's darker-edged symbolisms.

The early comparisons to Radiohead and REM that shadowed Remy Zero were flattering. But The Golden Hum transcends those comparisons, realizes all that "potential." "TGH was all about ultimate liberation," says Slay, "finding out the things that have haunted us, birthing out the ghosts." It's also the embodiment of everything missing in rock music today, a triumph of spirit over ego reminiscent of another band that helped Elektra Records break on through way back in the late 1960s.



FRONTLINE ASSEMBLY
Epitaph (Metropolis)

Comfortable anger. Played quiet, Epitaph is like rain on the roof; when you're rattling the casements with the monster bass, it's like an air mattress. Luxury accessories abound: fun sequencer arpeggios; tastefully integrated breakbeats; edits that jar without derailing the main feel. Frontline wants sensual bigness rather than punchy rawness this time. Drumbeats en masse, okay, but the duo are leaning toward melody, both keyboardian and vocal. Founder Bill Leeb spreads his hostile stage whisper throughout the record; the intimacy feels good without necessarily making you like him.

Is Leeb a pop guy since he sorta scored with the mushy Delerium project last year? He has always half-suspected he was one; he just doesn't sound like he wants to be popular. But he's making music, so he must. There's also some really good noise here; could be partner Chris Peterson's influence. Nice cornball touches crop up; '80s urban-soul Drumdrop gimmicks and such mitigate the pervasive whiteness with a distant hint of funk. Vancouver was the correct destination for Leeb after he left Skinny Puppy way back when: gray, with coffee battling ganja and heroin for the urban psyche, an explosively growing place where there's no such thing as normal.

Epitaph? Obviously Leeb ain't going away; he has a million projects and will be recording long after he's dead. Frontline, though, remains his most artistic expression. Let's keep it.

You could put Epitaph on most anytime, really, and see smoke where there isn't any smoke. Waxy guys in basements can be so powerful. (Greg Burk)

DNTEL
Life Is Full of Possibilities (Plug Research)

Dntel's music sounds like a dance club heard from the inside of an art student's scratchy womb. Melodic, all-embracing, heartbeaty — yes! — but also prickly in a soft and squishy way. Change the term ambient to ambiotic, and we got us a new genre of music here.

Dntel is Jimmy Tamborello, current member of L.A. indie/rock/emo bands Figurine and Strictly Ballroom, former member of the KXLU DJ mafia. He makes electronic music with "organic" touches — skipped beats, analog static, short low hums . . . Cramps? Morning sickness? Well, no, but the drums are like dull thumps on the belly rather than clicks on an 808, and the acoustic guitar is rich in a chocolate-fudge-cake-indulgence kind of way. As any ambiotic musician should, Dntel suspends you in prettiness. At times too much. The melodies spend as much time holding you in place and traveling to and fro as they do growing up into songs.

Life Is Full of Possibilities features individual tracks with vocals from Mia Doi Todd, Chris Gunst (Beachwood Sparks, ex–Strictly Ballroom), Rachel Haden (ex–That Dog), Meredith Figurine (Figurine) and Benjamin Gibbard (Death Cab for Cutie), as well as guitar from Brian McMahon (the For Carnation, ex-Slint) and Paul Larson (Athalia, Strictly Ballroom). Yes, it's L.A. scenester time, though only Todd's and McMahon's contributions are particularly notable.

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