Buzzbox
Time was, groups constructing a long-awaited album would end up writing too many songs to fit on one disc, which led them to issue separate releases simultaneously. (See Guns ‘n’ Roses’ 1991 Use Your Illusion(s), two albums that inspired countless rebellious teens to report fictional dental appointments so they could pick up the discs before the school day ended.) Later, other intermittently prolific artists began to release double discs. (Take Nine Inch Nails’ The Fragile and Wu-Tang Clan’s Forever, both of which could be sifted down to nearly perfect single records.) The new fad, however, is for groups to exhaust their songwriting powers in marathon studio sessions, release twelve or so songs, wait a few months, then release twelve or so more. It’s a clever process, removing the stigma of the over-reaching double album and creating the illusion of hyper productivity. After Radiohead and Everclear triumphed with this format, Appleseed Cast (pictured) became the latest group to give delayed gratification a chance. For the Lawrence-based quartet, though, this might be more necessity than strategy — it probably takes at least six to eight weeks to absorb the multilayered experimentation of Low Level Owl I.
On Low Level Owl II, songs gradually transform from subtly melodic indie-pop numbers to zero-gravity space odysseys, with zooming guitars and whooshing wind-tunnel effects. Blending The Cure’s penchant for lush intros with vibrant percussion that keeps the tunes from drifting into an ethereal fantasy realm, Appleseed Cast composes songs that seem to function in dreamtime, making listeners feel as if they’ve been transported on a significant, substantial voyage, even though only six minutes have elapsed back in the real world. Owl II mirrors the complexity and ambition of The Flaming Lips’ The Soft Bulletin, but Appleseed Cast eschews that band’s quirky lyricism during the few songs in which it even uses vocals, reinforcing the album’s otherworldly atmosphere.
However, the groups joining Appleseed Cast at its first local showcase since Owl II‘s release more than compensate for the missing levity. Headliner Har Mar Superstar, a Jon Lovitz lookalike who croons R&B songs such as “Girl, You’re Stupid” and “Baby, Do You Like My Clothes?,” ranks with modern music’s funniest acts. He’s got the voice and the dance moves to pull off the act, too — he’s what might have happened if Beck had maintained his sense of irony instead of deciding that he was, in fact, funky. Cursive isn’t really ha-ha humorous, but considering that the second line on its latest EP, Burst and Bloom, is these words lyrically defecate upon songs I boldly claim to create, it’s obvious that this Omaha-based group isn’t above self parody. However, its brand of emotional hardcore, decorated on Burst and Bloom by new addition Gretta Cohn’s cello, has earned Cursive a serious following.
