Exit Seating EP
Alchemy/Blue Hour
Red Triangle Records

Some things in life are good enough to succeed on their own. Chocolate, for example, manages to tantalize taste buds without any superfluous adornments. However, its scrumptious qualities are certainly not diminished when paired with peanut butter or strawberries. That sort of philosophy applies to music as well.

Take Alchemy and Blue Hour. The two local bands have made names for themselves by playing distinctly separate variations of rock ’n’ roll. Neither one needs outside help to boost their performance. However, on Exit Seating, the groups have teamed up for the production of a split EP that is more than the sum of its parts.

The album, featuring four tracks per group, opens with “Five Milligram Manifesto,” Alchemy’s response to the notion that success is measured by the intensity of one’s scream. In fact, every one of its songs reflects an aggression not as evident on anything from the band’s full length record.
Queens of the Stone Age riffs snake through Dave Durrant and Jeremy Smith’s tag-team vocals, while drummer Dan Thomas beats his drums into submission. All four members throw themselves into the music, leaving the listener reeling.

If Alchemy is an adrenaline rush, Blue Hour is like coming down. “Sirens” unfolds on a drone and eventually dissolves into distortion. Oliver Lewis’s hypnotic voice has a lulling effect but does not quite captivate until “Electrocute,” a beautiful, etherial song that’s reason enough to obtain the entire album.
Exit Seating takes its leave by cutting out. Blasts of feedback slowly lose strength until submitting to an enveloping silence. It is perfect closure for a double dose of something not often taken all at once.
--JG

The Rodeo Boys
Same As Cash
(Self-released)
Local Artist

The members of The Rodeo Boys are reminiscent of Donal Logue’s character in the independent film “The Tao of Steve”—emanating an inexplicable appeal without any apparent effort to please anyone except themselves. The four local buddies started playing for a good time. On Same As Cash, they’ve grown into master seducers, effortlessly attracting listeners in an elaborate musical courtship.

The dance unfolds nice and slow (slick, if you will) with “Thousand Island,” which comes off like an updated ’70s make-out ballad—all heavy synthesizer and feel-good vocals. “Pancakes, Pancakes” arrives in its wake, offering promises of simple pleasures that necessarily culminate in backyard love.

After a while, it seems the boys tire of sweet nothings and decide to really get down. Songs quicken in pace, and a series of friends pop up at the party—Bruce, Beth (like John Tesh) and, of course, “Ecstacy Dad,” who gets everyone to scream “SUSHAKI!” By now, all of the women are falling at their feet. It’s madness.

The Rodeo Boys is a band enjoyable on two levels, depending on which aspect you choose to focus. The lyrics alone are comedic and often crudely absurd—inside jokes whose meaning one can only guess. The instrumentation, on the other hand, is universally relatable and somehow provides both stark contrast and perfect complement to accompanying vocals. The harmonies are smooth in tone and are simply, well, pretty, which is not exactly the right descriptive modifier for this particular act. Yet they soar and blend nicely with thick keys, guitar and drums. There are still some rough edges to work out, but seeing how far the band has come since its inception, imperfection can just be written off as character (as in, “Wow, those old jeans sure have character—could I borrow them some time?”).

Same As Cash is ultimately satisfying. Whether or not the relationship endures, we’ll always have this soundtrack of misty, water-colored memories.

jamie@red-mag.com