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| Beulah Handsome Western States by Virile St. Croix
With this release, the Elephant 6 Recording mafia puts the final bullet through Moe Green's eye and stands alone atop the indie-pop underworld. Like Michael Corleone, they saw hard times coming, and did what they had to -- unleash an attack which caught everyone off guard and bloody. See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya. Amen. Beulah combines the standout elements of their label-mates' respective sounds, fusing the experimentation of Neutral Milk Hotel with the shimmering pop of Olivia Tremor Control and Apples in Stereo. The resulting noise is at once comfortably familiar and unique enough to send one into a fit of surprised goosebumps. It's as if the Beach Boys recorded Pet Sounds with Steve Albini, achieving remarkable lushness through "crappy old guitars." It's the music of summer loves, and their eventual loss ("I left my heart in Kansas / It's the second biggest ball of twine"). But do you get depressed listening to any Brian Wilson gem? Hell no! But now you can become immersed in feedback and broken strings, along with sunny vocals. After all, they've "got a song / prettier than your girlfriend," and that cuts like a rusty knife. On "Delta," they explore the interplay of a winsome violin with passionate, crashing cymbals. It's the perfect musical contradiction for a chorus which states "Hey love don't you think about me sometimes? / I think about you much more than I'd like" before moving into a creamy finish of "Ohhhh" preceding the fade-out. Handsome Western States may also come across as textbook early 90s indie-pop -- off-kilter melodies and buzzsaw guitars, with a good dose of humor, especially the buoyant "la-la-la-la-la ... California!" bridge of "Disco: The Secretaries Blues." The opener, "Maroon Bible," had me slanted and enchanted all over again as the heady rush of lo-fi songcraft hit the back of my brain and exploded like an aural muscle relaxer. You can virtually guess the lyrics and changes, especially the mid-song break beats. So it may seem a tad retro at this point -- guided by Sebadoh and rattled by the rush -- but in spirit only. Handsome Western Suites rocks in ways undiscovered by its influences. If anything, it's a glorious continuation of what those bands created and just cannot seem to hack anymore. This is music to drive, sleep, fuck, or do whatever by, proving that you can go back to the homestead. Or maybe you can't. Maybe, like the newly empowered Michael, they've become the only show in town. Eliminating the competition by outdoing them at a game they thought they ruled. Of course, they may fall someday too, but for now you better get in line and kiss that pinky ring, because I don't think that they'll be getting into the casino business anytime soon.
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Virile St. Croix is the strappingest monk ever to sling a Les Paul.