Disco Biscuits
‘They Missed the Perfume’

The title suggests exactly what a lot of people will think of this album. In a world where instant gratification revolves on a 15-second cycle, the Biscuit’s third mindscrambling LP may irritate those who need a mainline of Ritalin. The introduction of a drum machine on the album may offend the acoustic elitists and the vocals sound like a cross strain of Enya and Pink Floyd. Those who have never seen the Biscuits live, but have listened to “Perfume,” may walk away from the speakers wondering why in the world all these kids are spending their hard-earned duckets on this quartet who infuses house music with jam/improv inclinations. I had this impression at first, but a few things made me change my mind

1) A lot of hard work went into this 40-plus minute offering. The album was recorded in the abandoned part of the 150,000 square feet Belyea Power Company in Easton, Penn. The industrial monolith lent an atmosphere perfect for the foursome’s dive into the mechanical unknown (as well as a miniature golf course built from old machinery scraps). They went in the opposite direction of “Uncivilized Area,” a studio album that was essentially jamming live with hardly any overdubs.

“This new album is entirely made of overdubs,” said guitarist Jon Gutwillig. “Every part (of “They Missed the Perfume”) is a tiny piece of audio that was recorded, either seven seconds long or 14 seconds long. Every single thing you hear recorded is in those seven- or 14-second sound bytes. There’s no drum or bass lines being laid out for one or two minutes. Absolutely everything (bass line, drumbeat, high hat, guitar lick) is constructed out of that tiny piece of audio byte. It’s put together like a tile bathroom, or like a mosaic painting.”

Meticulous is a good moniker for the newborn. The birth was a long one - six months before the effort poked out its head.

“Monet used to paint pictures by using little splotches of color until it looked like something,” said Gutwillig. “That’s exactly what this album is - little splotches of sound rearranged, rearranged, and rearranged until they sound like something.”

2) It just grows on you. “Perfume” is like one of those gigantic shots your doctor stealthily lays on you. The length and the pain are almost too much, but once it hits the circulation, all complaints are off.

3) It’s different in every way. Sure there’s enough electricity on this album to solve California’s woes, but it’s tinkered with on a constant basis. The opening poppy sounds of “Highwire” appear 30 minutes later at the beginning of “I Remember When” I expected a reprise on “Remember,” but instead the song twists into a celebration, a happy chirpy sound that completes this 40-minute voyage through angels, dreams, faux paradises, and volcano gods. I liken this album to a bi-polar waterfall. Gutwillig’s guitar will spill sounds that spray all over the album. The bass drops bombs just when the song looks ready to peter out and the keyboards provide an ingredient that most brains will find blissfully confusing. The backbone is the workaholic drum machine that allows the other triumvirate of sounds to explore without any repercussions. “Highwire” could be accused of bedding down with the vile mistress that is MTV. This song is almost like a weeding out process. Mainstream agitators will probably walk away before track two, “Spacebirdmatingcall,” introduces its tumbling sounds. The intro promotes a tribal sound before spilling into a mesh of changed time signatures, swirling melodies, and an intruding voice that lushly proclaims, “Now I’m at ease, deflating on a whim/And in my sleep I heard a maiden call/And I found peace on the waiting room floor.” Call it dream muzak.

“Haleakala Crater” has a very clean sound to it. Tender bass lines and upbeat guitar licks waltz to and fro with bird sounds, trickling water, and wisps of wind. Moods pervade throughout, as Gutwillig’s guitar grows increasingly frantic in search of the mysteries surrounding the ancient volcano deities. The song levels off halfway through as man becomes one with nature and Aron Magner adds puffs of light to his keyboard sounds. A carnival sound emerges (Phish’s “Esther” comes to mind) that volleys between the performers before Gutwillig delves into his trademark cascade sound to round out this eleven minute offering.

My mouth still hurts from the hook of “Home Again.” The catchy tune reeled me in instantly, thanks to polished three- and four-part harmonies from the vocalists. Guest female vocalist Erica Lynn Greunerg’s harmonies are sung over an infectious bass anchored groove. Once again, Mr. Gutwillig proves he’s not noodling to ecstasy, providing catchy guitar licks that scream originality.

Next up is the live classic “Mindless Dribble.” The song begins in a jumble fashion with an uncharacteristic rap that threatens to dismantle the whole song. A trace-dub beat comes to the rescue before delving into some minimalist features that border on hypnotic. Magner struts his stuff, layering his sounds despite the naked ambience. Heavy beats build into a primal notion, creating a sound that begs for its own circulatory system. However, the rapid tongues appear again at the end that’s thematic to the overall sense of “Mindless Dribble.”

The end pieces are a touch stale, but the protein in the middle is taste bud titillation. There is a swan amidst all these beeps, blips, pops, and whistles on “They Missed The Perfume.”

Ben Harper
‘Live From Mars’

Ben Harper is a tortured poet who takes his negative energy and feeds it into his mournful voice and wailing guitar. The end result is a charred beauty that will please a cross section of fans. Sensitive folks who like a double latte with the spoken word will find Harper’s lyrics cerebral and leagues deep. Air guitarists, who thrive in front of mirrors, will emulate Mr Harper’s brash, yet fluid guitar work. His slide hearkens to the days of demonic lost deals on the crossroads, and his acoustic subtleties have the caress of a butterfly kiss. His band, The Innocent Criminals, provides a solid backbone around Harper and can go off just as hard as their employer. His studio albums have given the listener a lot to think about. His soul permeates through each cut, addressing every matter that is socially important for the downtrodden. He has quoted Maya Angelou (the gorgeous “I’ll Rise”), weeded out the hypocrisy of religion (the 11-minute workout of “God Fearing Man”), and understood that life is not always a friend (the powerful “Welcome to the Cruel World”). There is pain in his voice, but it has a therapeutic element that sounds like a hard wind in a flower field. Ben Harper has become popular because he understands music. There is not a sellout contingent. That, and he can just absolutely shred a guitar.

Think Jimmy Hendrix meshed with Walt Whitman. Jimmy flaunted his stuff, while Ben prefers to sit. He’s like the poet who’s come to the campfire with an electric landscape in his hand. A live album can be tricky for musicians.

Many people like the clean confinements of a studio sound and are disenchanted by the unpolished feel of a live setting. “Live From Mars” is both immaculate and soiled. Disc one is all electric, with Ben and the Criminals pounding out originals like “Glory and Consequences” and “Burn One Down.” Well-timed covers like “Sexual Healing” (ladies, try to breath after this one guys, forget the jealous tendencies) and “Whole Lotta Love” infuse perfectly into the album. The latter may be the highlight of the album.

Harper starts out with the original “Faded” (found on “The Will to Live”), segues into “Whole Lotta Love” and then back into “Faded.” This club special will floor folks who like set list sandwiches. Other highlights of Disc One include “Excuse Me, Mr.,” a harsh calling out of the powers to be - “Isn’t that oil in your sea and the pollution in the air Mr./Whose could that be?/So I’m taking the Mr. from out in front of your name/Cause it’s a mister like you that puts the rest of us to shame.” The radio friendly “Steal My Kisses” (from the studio “Burn to Shine”) will have your guests begging for more, and “Forgiven” is flat out life-altering. The song begins as an instrumental, as Harper’s guitar develops a Middle-Eastern twang. His voice meshes with the sounds of the desert, creating a twining that would emancipate many a cobra. Taj Mahals and Capricorn sunsets run through the mind before Harper delves into the trademark intro of “Forgiven.” This is a 10-minute workout worthy of an all day repeat. This is followed by the “Faded Whole Lotta Love Faded” finale. Try not to sweat.

Disc Two is for the intimate junkies. It’s all acoustic and treads on the naked areas of Harper’s soul. “Power of the Gospel” (found on “Fight for Your Mind”) is a revival of sorts. Pin drops become a nuisance as a solitary guitar whispers before the reverend proclaims - “In the hour of richness, in the hour of need/For all of creation comes from the gospel seed/Now you may leave tomorrow and you may leave today/But you’ve got to have the gospel when you start on your way.” Can I get a shout from the amen corner? The delta blues and love ballads intersect on “Pleasure and Pain,” and life’s psychotropic sensibilities are chucked in the disposal on “The Drugs Don’t Work.” A slut for finales, Harper goes out with a bang on “Like a King/I’ll Rise.” “King” is a look at both Rodney and Dr. Martin Luther. Harper tells all of us the Dr. King’s strides are phantoms when the Rodney Kings of the world become beaten celebrities.

The truth is solidified by a call for confidence in Maya Angelou’s “I’ll Rise” - “So you may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes/And I’ll rise, I’ll rise, I’ll rise.” “Live From Mars” (like the rest of his albums) is social consciousness wrapped in instrumental prowess worthy of infinite envy. Ben Harper is one of those rare entities who speaks a serious message around Grade A entertainment. Whether you’re an acoustic elitist or an electric activist, a fireside poet or a bar band fanatic, “Live on Mars” will have something to tantalize the palate.

 

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