D.I.Y. Ethic Lives On - A Bountiful Bevy of Brilliant Basement Booty

Now, I don't know what it's like at other music sites, but here at The Ripple office, we take the time to listen to every submission that hunched-over Postman Sal humps across our doorstep every day. But, I gotta be honest, as the stacks build up on our desks to heights that violate the building code, threatening to block out the overhead track lights, plunging us into a darkness that rivals a solar eclipse, there have been times we've plopped a disc in the player, hoping, just praying it'd be crap so we wouldn't have to review it. Remember, here at the Ripple we only write about that which moves us.

And that doesn't include nausea.

And rightly or wrongly, it's often the self-produced, set up my studio behind the washing machine in the basement discs that get us the most worried. With modern recording equipment easier to buy than a latte at Starbucks, any old schmo can pop out a professional looking and sounding disc in less time than it takes to guess whether Paula Abdul is drunk this week. But you know how it is when there's no other ear involved; things can get a little squirrely. Like a 45 minute accordion solo on a thrash metal album. Not pretty.

But the thing is, the Pope and I have great respect for that guy. The guy who works a full day hauling paper products around town, comes home, kisses his wife, goes over the dog's homework and pets the child, then plugs in to an amp slashed with a razor and stuffed with gift wrapping paper, digging to find that crazy sound to finish off his disc that quite honestly, he may be the only person in the world to ever hear. That's what music is all about, the drive, the desire, the passion.

We've already bragged the tune of several D.I.Y. maniacs, like the Nothing Project or Dimaension X, and now at the Ripple we're going to start a regular, erratically written column, banging the drums and tooting the horns for all those who's fires burn too brightly to ever be diminished by hurdles as trivial as having no budget, recording studio or record label contract. This is the best of the D.I Y. baby, and that's as hard core as rock and roll can get.


Swift Ships - Losers and Sluts

First up in this column of craziness, is the freaking dynamite second CD by the two man collective known as Swift Ships. Now, I missed their first disc altogether but Postman Sal dropped this baby off on my desk a good several months ago. Like most D.I.Y. discs, I poked and prodded it a few times with a stick, just to make sure it wasn't still alive then I let it ferment for a while off to the side of my desk to let it get good and ripe while I finished other projects. Actually (sorry guys) it sat for quite a while. Which was my mistake.

An odds and sods assortment of intended home produced demos, Losers and Sluts is a brilliant demonstration of D.I.Y. alt rock. Riding a neo-funk, post punk, soul groove with a rootsy heart all played over loop based material, Swift Ships go all over the rock spectrum on this baby. And it's all good. "I Wasn't Born to Be in Love," bops out first on the back of a chugging bass and angelic guitar tone courtesy of the main music man, Scott Loving. Admittedly, Ben Shanaberger's vocals took a bit of getting used to at first; so apathetic and near monotonal that it seems they had to be pulled against his will out of his throat. But by the second song, "Shiny Earrings," I began to see the perfect balance of Ben's disaffected delivery with Lovings explorations in post-punk funk and guitar wizardry. This song rooted itself into my brain like the feeders of an ancient redwood. "Spring Fever," brings on a wah'ed out guitar tone over a crunching, funky ass bottom end, while "All That's Past," percolates so effortlessly in it's own blissed out world of grooviness it comes off like a lost The Suburbs classic.

And it just keeps on getting better. "Flirting With Disaster," is such a beautifully executed splurge of rock/funk it coulda come from Gnarls Barkley, complete with a searing guitar breakdown. "High On the Weekend," rides a dangerous, old school soul/funk vibe reminiscent of Bill Whithers's "Who is He and What is He to You," while "Daddy's Little Baby," booms out lost in it's own blues-infected vibe, honkering some mighty guitar licks. Actually, there's strong guitar work throughout, and the vocals are dynamite when combined with Lovings backings. My only complaint, and its a big one, is that the boys lock onto a freaking fantastic bass heavy groove with the track "Paralyzed," featuring Ben's most emotive vocals, and they ride the song out after, what, 30 seconds? Come on guys, you gotta revisit that baby!

That single bitch aside, you gotta hand it to the guys on this one. The production is solid and the sound great. If you dig slightly raw, slightly rootsy alt-rock with the deep grooves of some post-punk funk, this ones a keeper.





www.myspace.com/swiftships


Night Artery – Capsize Your Surroundings

While Racer was poking his DIY disk with a stick, I latched onto mine like it was my sole source of survival in a topsy turvy world. Though, I think I’ve spent the same amount of time with Night Artery’s Capsize Your Surroundings as Racer did Swift Ships, it was for completely different reasons. I knew I loved this immediately; I just wasn’t sure which words to use to best express my love for it. In fact, I’m still not sure I know which words to use . . . so I’ll just dive into this. The music is poppy, but progressive, and the production work is crisp and much more polished than one would expect from a traditional D.I.Y. product. But D.I.Y. it is.

The back story of this release goes something along these lines: Night Artery is a one man project, brought to light by the massively talented Ross Arundale. Our hero wanted, like most kids who knew how to play a few chords on their guitar, to be a rocker, faced much disappointment, realized that he had a burning ambition, worked his ass off to make a few bucks so he could afford to do things his way, purchased all of the gear he could, learned how to use it, then wrote, recorded, and produced this, his first release, Capsize Your Surroundings. Seriously. Not even I could make up something like this.

Capsize Your Surroundings is a progressive pop disc, but categories almost feel like a disservice to music as broad and ambitious as this. Ross’ approach to the song writing is unpredictable and unorthodox, as the music sounds unlike anything I’ve heard before. Sure, I can hear a bit of Beatles influence, but strictly in a sonic approach and experimentation, not in song structure or melody. The songs are moody pieces of texturally intense music. No instrument is spared as the good Mr. Arundale incorporates cellos, violins, and piano to accent the typical rock oriented guitar, bass, and drums, but don’t go thinking that this is some classical piece of music. Yeah, there are some pretty heavy symphonic portions to the music, but nothing you have to wear a tuxedo for. It rocks in a poppy kind of way and is simply dripping with amazing melodies. It’s freaking intense, man. There’s so much going on that there’s no possible way to grasp the heaviness of it with just one listen.

I guess one could compare Night Artery to the contemporary soundings of Coldplay, Spoon, or possibly Radiohead, but that comparison would have to be stylistically speaking only, not in overall sound. Capsize Your Surroundings sounds like a huge production team was involved with it, and for that I can only sit here and shake my head. I’ve heard big budget albums sound worse . . . considerably worse. The musicianship here is masterful. The production value is stronger than the American dollar (what isn't these days?) The performances are passionate. The songwriting is unconventional. And, it’s one man doing it on his own. Sometimes, life just isn’t fair.





www.myspace.com/nightartery


Dali's Llama - Full on Dunes

Husband and wife team Zach and Erica Huskey are the epitome of do-it-yourself rock and rollers. Pounding out a monstrous, riff-heavy mound of desert sludge over a career that already spans 7 CD's, Dali's Llama new disc Full on Dunes is just what the title describes; a full on assault of sludgy, desert riff madness, stoner rock and roll. Produced by Scott Reeder (Kyuss, The Obsessed, Goatsnake) who also lends his prodigious bass to several tracks, this is a speaker blasting fest of organic, fuzzed out heavy psychedelic rock.

Recorded at a ranch somewhere out in the desert over a shockingly short period of time, Dali's Llama don't mess with ego-propping bouts of guitar wizardy. Zach Huskey is all about the riff, baby, and he knows how to bring those bad boys on. Just check out the full-on groove of "King Platypus," and you'll instantly fall under the Dali's Llama spell, or should I say worship at their temple of riffdom. "On Dunes," starts off deep and heavy, doom-laden post-Sabbath, post-Kyuss infected distorted blues metal, until the crew lock into that groove, which they proceed to ride harder than a dune buggy across their desert landscape. This is head-bobbing stoner metal, so lost in the desert you'll need to empty the sand out of your shoes when the song is done.

"Can't Catch Me," digs deep into the Poobah guitar effects bag of pedals, pulling out a psychotropically distorted guitar vibe, running like a sine wave across the pummeling heavy bass and earth shattering drum beat. This is a mushroom freakout around a bonfire. Some ritual ceremony where fortunately, no one was hurt. The aptly named "Desert Dogs," keeps the groove and riff charging as straight ahead and satisfying as anything in the genre. And the disc goes on from there with nary a hiccup. D.I.Y. or not, Dali's Llama have produced a genuine rocker of deep desert sludge that's just sitting there on the dune waiting to be heard. Don't miss it.



www.myspace.com/dalisllama



Millsted - Umm. . . Yea

Ok, just trust me. Take my advice on this one. Run, don't walk to the Millsted myspace page, find the link, download and buy the track "Dirty Elvis." Don't stop to think about it, just do it. Starting off with a freaking dynamite bass hook, Millsted drive this baby through so many areas of modern indy rock, I lost count. Draped with a subtle vocal, framed with stuttering, shimmering guitar, this song rocks like some funky Britrock, punk, ska, indy rock hybrid all the way to the neo-hardcore chorus breakdown. In short, "Dirty Elvis," is about as infectious as the ebola virus and a lot more fun to catch.

While you're there, go ahead and check out the rest of the offerings from this New York D.I.Y. outfit. Originally formed in the hardcore/metal scene, Millsted left the restrictions of those genres behind to lose themselves in their own hybrid of all things rock. Guitars crash, rage, ring and tremble. Vocals sing, croon and shout. Bass line undulate and throb. Modern rock with a definitive hard core center. Eventually, each track finds a way to dig into your head like a pneumatic drill. What else could you ask for?

www.myspace.com/millsted