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If virtuoso guitar solos are dead, then someone forgot to tell Built to Spill leader Doug Martsch. It only takes a few seconds into "The Plan," the first track off the trio's latest sonic exploration, Keep It Like a Secret, before Martsch is off and soaring. Melodic riffs ascend, shimmer loud enough to cause watery eyes, and then unconventionally crash behind Brett Nelson's thick bass lines and (former Spinanes) drummer Scott Plouf's trademark mashing. It's complex and dizzying and visceral, and Built to Spill makes it sound so damned easy. The band, especially the shy Martsch, is currently grappling with being promoted as the "next big thing." Warner Brothers is pushing the band's second major-label release toward more radio-friendly audiences, and longtime fans have expressed concern that Built to Spill would lessen the idiosyncratic flourishes that give the power-pop outfit its autonomy. But one listen to Keep It Like a Secret should squash any doubts. Yes, the manic time changes and shifting song structures that dominated the last record, Perfect from Now On, have been toned down slightly. Several tunes recall the pop bliss of the band's second effort, There's Nothing Wrong with Love; with a strong label push, the bouncy "Center of the Universe" could possibly be a, gulp, hit. Still, the band's oddball melodies and Martsch's fragmented songwriting require the listener's patience and attention, two traits rarely associated with mainstream success. Songs like "Sidewalk" and "Time Trap" crackle with overlapping rhythms; guitar riffs buzz and squelch, elbowing each other for space. While not as nakedly bitter as he was on Perfect from Now On, lyrically Martsch still sounds like prime material for psychotherapy. Most songs, like the somber "Else," express the point of view of a jilted lover or abandoned friend. The singer doesn't even try to mask his disillusionment with the human race: "Count your blemishes/You can't/They're all gone," he spits sarcastically on "Carry the Zero," the album's most gorgeously transcendent tune. Martsch sings the line like a putdown, but it doubles as an honest comment on his band: At this point, Built to Spill can do no wrong. (Release date Tuesday, Feb. 9) Dave McCoy
The career of cult artist Z'ev (Stefan Weisser) first bloomed in the early '80s, rising alongside the dawn of avant-garde industrial music, though his style was grounded more in flesh and steel than the intellectual spaces created by electronic musicians. To watch the bald man pound out abstract, percussive vignettes on materials such as titanium rods, iron springs or empty water jugs was a bizarre, entrancing affair. Later, this creative recycling of cultural castoffs would become a central metaphor of all art given the "industrial" tag. In the '80s, however, Z'ev moved his show to Europe, leaving nothing for American audiences to marvel at but that popular Broadway version of his junkyard drumming scheme, STOMP. Fortunately, Portland's experimental titan, Soleilmoon Recordings,
is now providing us with his first domestic releases in well over a
decade. (Both discs were recorded in 1990 but have not seen American
shores until now.) Opus 3.1 consists of 20 tracks divided into
five acts. Each cut--or scene--represents a different percussion instrument.
Some are quiet, others cacophonous, but even the slow, stark resonance
of a ringing gong maintains a sharp level of intensity. The sole drawback
is inconsistency: After being soothed into a reflective trance state,
the listener is occasionally jolted by the strident opening clang of
the subsequent cut. Ghost Stories, a 1-track, 68-minute live
recording, avoids this, building tension through rising and rolling
crescendos, then letting its thunder fade into the waiting air before
starting over. What it lacks, however, are the wide dynamics of Opus
3.1, and both sorely miss the visual aspect of Z'ev himself working
his alchemical magic before your eyes. Regardless, just when it seemed
like New-Age techno and all-wet ambient were taking over the world,
both albums reclaim the right for experimental artists to get percussive
without joining a drum circle. Pick up a pipe and garbage can and play
along. John Graham
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