"Genre-hopping" eclecticism and a "post-modern" sensibility, such as the promo material for Chicago's Certain Distant Suns debut release trumpets, can be a mixed bag. In a worst-case scenario, such terms can serve as code for "we didn't know what to do"; the best examples, such as Primal Scream's all-time neo-psychedelic classic Screamadelica, truly belong in a "hallucinogenre" all their own.
Happy On The Inside (drug implications noted and appropriate), happy to say, comes closer to the latter case than the former. At its best, it achieves a synthesis which is mind-alteringly fresh: we've had many, mainly British, bands playing oceanic mega-riffs combined with fey, whispery vocals lately (My Blood Valentine, Slowdive, etc.); here, however, Justin Mroz penetrates the band's wall of sound with some truly unhinged sounding singing, combining the youthful insolence of Stooges-era Iggy Pop, the drawling Yankeeisms of New York Dolls singer David Johansen, and even more inspired, the bent yokel-vocals of Mick Jagger in country mode. "I want to know what's goin' awwwwhn" drawls Mroz in "Round" over a wall of distorted guitar wah-wah. Could we call this "bootgazing?" Like I said, unhinged.
The weirdness doesn't stop with Mroz's vocals, either. One of the record's standout tracks, "Snowfall At The Most Curious Times," with its bent lyrical imagery ("Push me down the stairs and say 'I love you' . . . tell me how it feels to be alive without a clue") also features music which approximates the guitar-power of MBV and then splices on a "kiddie-choir" chorus of gibberish that sounds like Bob Ezrin came toodling by the studio after walking straight out of a 1970's Alice Cooper Band session and fooled around with the master tapes. Insane, and insanely catchy. When you wake up in the morning with the chorus to "Snowfall..." going through your head and wonder if perhaps you're losing it for good, you'll have Certain Distant Suns to thank.
There are moments of sheer musical transcendence here as well. "All Green To Me" soars on a gothic bass line reminiscent of Joy Division, backing vocals which bring to mind disembodied spirits hovering around the room, and weary, impassioned singing from Mroz. A reminder that the 1980's, with its dark musical heroes--Ian Curtis, Andrew Eldritch--weren't all bad: after all, the 90's big hero is a grown man named Eddie Vedder, who often behaves as if what he needs is a good spanking. Having initially misread the title as "Al Green To Me," I was expecting more of an r&b workout here, a promise delivered upon in the following number, "Mine, All Mine," in which Mroz megaphones-in streetwise lyrics over a frenetic funk riff.
Of course, a debut effort is bound to have a few weak links, and Happy On the Inside is no exception. Generally, the band is less convincing when working with the funk, hip-hop and techno influences noted in their press release than when they stick to their unique brand of rock. Not that they play numbers like "Mine, All Mine" or "Talk" poorly--the Suns' youthful (they're all in their early 20s) enthusiasm rescues the material to some degree. It's just that you have to transform and elevate music like this to make it work--i.e. Screamadelica---and I hate to be reminded of the Red Hot Chili Peppers unless it's strictly necessary. The biggest faux pas here, however, is the inclusion of the "techno" noodling of "Crustacean": in former times they used to call such numbers "jams" or "instrumentals," but no matter the term, the reality here is "filler." All 11:29 of "Crustacean" might be fine "E"-z listening, and it certainly isn't offensive to the ears, but neither is it compelling, and thus the song finishes the record by eroding its momentum. Still, this is entirely forgivable in the context of a self-produced first effort.
All indicators point to Certain Distant Suns as a band to watch in the future, especially if Justin Mroz can further develop his decadent/psychedelic aesthetic. If the unchecked, flowing emotion found on Happy On The Inside is any indication, they also promise to be a hell of a live act. Here's hoping these crazy Chicagoans head my Toronto-way soon.
-John Walker
