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At
Large
A
roundup of the Capital Region’s recent recorded riches
 The
Luxury Flats
Wrong
Side of the Cap Stand (self-released)
The
debut album by this Hudson-based foursome is a testament to
the joy of being in a band and creating music. The Luxury
Flats came seemingly out of nowhere (Hudson, again) a few
years back, recommended by a couple self-produced demo discs
and ecstatic word-of-mouth over their live shows; on Wrong
Side of the Cap Stand, they’ve distilled their many strengths
into one excellent debut album.
Cap
Stand finds the band balancing their hippie inclinations
with a mean punk-rock streak: The Ritual-era-Jane’s-meets-Donovan
vibe of “Rainy Days” sits comfortably alongside wild rockers
like “Oh My Lord” (“Oh my lord won’t you take me away/Come
up short almost every day”). The Southern vibe of album opener
“Walk Down That Road” is revisited several times, notably
on the ZZ Top-plays-the-Stooges (Iggy Top?) skronk of album
standout “Ellis Endecency” and the throat-shredding heavy
boogie of “Honey.” On the flipside, hand drums and harmonium
propel the cathartic drone of “City of Gold,” and the chiming
tones of acoustic guitar and electric grand piano adorn the
intro to the crossover-worthy “The Pull On.”
They’re unafraid to take chances, to drop a bleating baritone
sax into the mix (on two songs, even) or introduce a new melody
over the fade, and it all works, thanks to their musical-chairs
approach. With a musical arsenal that includes a warehouse
full of stringed instruments, plus three lead singers and
four drummers among them, the Luxury Flats are as dangerous
as a band twice their size.
—John
Brodeur
 Sunset
Aside
of
what remains (self-released)
The
full-length follow-up to their promising 2005 EP ghost
stories, this magnum opus sounds like Sunset Aside locked
themselves inside a studio for a year (in this case, producer
John Delehanty’s Scarlet East), and recorded every good idea
they’ve ever had rumbling around their Gothic-primed brainpans.
The result is a grand sonic adventure down some Edward Gorey-conceived
rabbit hole, whipping between guitars grown to Loveless
proportions and keys that echo back to Nitzer Ebb. Lead
conspirator W. Dasgift III shows a knack for David Bowie pop
moves circa Scary Monsters, but sings like some unholy
conglomeration of Iggy Pop and alt-rock crooner Mark Lanegan.
Particular highlights include “A Crooked Veil,” a dreamy piano-driven
song that enthralls for its full 10 minutes, and “The Fainting
Room,” a charging ode to sexual climax as “the little death.”
Not for the faint of heart, of what remains should
please most anyone whose taste for the Gothic tends toward
its heavier incarnations.
—Mike
Hotter
The
Lustre Kings
Way
Out There (Wild Boar)
Take
a look around at Albany’s long-lived rock & roll and rockabilly
revival, and you will always see Mark Gamsjager in the mix
somewhere, either leading his Lustre Kings, mentoring younger
acts along, or playing promoter and cheerleader by bringing
in nationally renowned players like the Paladins and Deke
Dickerson to places like the Ale House in Troy. (Global sensation
and guitar whiz Dickerson even pens some CD notes on the new
Lustre Kings disc.) When he’s not doing things like that,
he and the Lustre Kings are backing up the original queen
of ’50s rockabilly, Wanda Jackson. So what’s the new album,
Way Out There, like? It’s the band’s best CD yet, combining
bright, sophisticated swing fare like “Empty Town” with twangy
diesel numbers like “Mr. Big” and slinky rock & rollers
like “Way Out There.” It’s exactly what you would expect from
Albany’s standard bearers of rock & roll. And you always
know that a new CD from the Lustre Kings is going to be like
your favorite dark suit: holding no new surprises, but finely
made and perfect for most occasions.
—Erik
Hage
The
Christine Spero Group
My
Spanish Dream (Collective Works)
Pianist-singer
Christine Spero wrote all nine tracks on this album, and it’s
immediately apparent why she’s done well in national songwriting
competitions. The songs deftly combine Latin and Brazilian
sounds with percussive, piano-centered jazz to exciting effect.
(This probably would be a good time to mention the contributions
of her excellent rhythm section, bassist Mike Woinoski and
drummer Jody Sumber.)
Spero’s voice is sleek and insinuating, whether she’s hewing
to the complex rhythms or scatting. Her vocal arrangements
are a pleasure in themselves: When she multitracks her vocals
for a brief wordless passage in “My Spanish Dream,” or to
back herself on the propulsive “The Festival,” the effect
is shimmering. And more importantly for you purists out there,
not distracting.
What’s interesting about My Spanish Dream is that while
the rhythms—and the array of percussion sounds provided by
Elliot Spero—are primarily Latin-influenced, the melodies
(and harmonies) are all over the place. Examples: The standouts
“Caribbean Dream” and “The Festival” have a Latin flavor;
the instrumental “Raiisha,” a showcase for husband Elliot’s
tenor sax, is classic jazz fusion; and “Therapy” is somewhere
in between. The aplomb with which Spero and company pull this
off makes this music sound fresh.
—Shawn
Stone
 Grainbelt
Trouble
Coming Down (self-released)
Rising
from the sawdust of Albany cowpunk outfit Coal Palace Kings
is the debut release by Grainbelt, a group featuring two-thirds
of CPK—with bassist Chris Blackwell the new addition—and sharing
much of the earlier band’s appreciation for heartfelt roots
rock, old time country and cheap American beer. The new album
sounds “kind of like trouble coming down,” reads the group’s
tongue-in-cheek press sheet. That could mean difficulty returning
to a non-drug-induced state, or it could mean trouble coming
down the pike. The latter seems more likely, given that songs
like “The Ballad of Sled” and “The Drugs Don’t Seem to Be
Working”—much like the best that Americana has to offer—are
anthems for the unlucky, for those with no real shot at fortune
and fame. But, that’s not to say the album doesn’t have moments
of cautious optimism.
“Not
making much but we’re getting by,” sings bandleader Howe Glassman,
sounding a note of reassurance that resonates well on “A Little
Faith,” one of the album’s best tracks. “Leave a Stone” is
a gorgeous weeper recalling Son Volt or Uncle Tupelo and accentuated
to great effect by pedal steel, while “War of Wills” and “Crooked
Numbers” are straightforward, to-the-point barn burners.
—Kirsten
Ferguson
 Super
400
3
and the Beast (self-released)
On
their third studio album, Poestenkill’s finest stick to what
they do best, a throwback to the bell-bottomed blues-rock
of the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. Some chances were taken on
their excellent second record, Blast the Message (that
album’s “I Wonder” is among the band’s finest moments), but
here they’ve kept things lean, accentuating the simplicity
of the trio sound. For this reliably excellent live act (see
their last release, Live ‘05), putting the songs and
the performances at the forefront was a smart move: Once the
tentative opening notes of “Emergency” gust up into a flurry
and the rhythm section kicks into high gear, you’re in for
a 45-minute re minder of why rock & roll will never burn
out or fade away. (There’s a reason kids are still
wearing Zeppelin T-shirts.) If you’re short on attention span,
skip to “The Leaves” for a bit of contemplative psychedelia
or “The Brave Path to You” for a killer rave-up, or throw
on the sinister slink of “Faces to the Sun” in all its drop-tuned
glory.
—John
Brodeur
 Brian
Patneaude Quartet
As
We Know It (WEPA)
The
third CD from the pride of Albany’s jazz scene finds the tenor
saxophonist hitting his stride as both a writer and an instrumentalist.
The clean, strong melodic lines of both disc-opener “Matters
Not” and the gleaming ballad “Simple Truth” draw favorable
comparisons to Blue Note-era Wayne Shorter, but Patneaude’s
writing is simply stellar throughout. The seasoned quartet,
comprised of drummer Danny Whelchel, guitarist George Muscatello,
and acoustic bassist Mike DelPrete, are joined by pianist
Dave Payette (featured here on Fender Rhodes) on all but two
of the CD’s seven songs. Such a talented and experienced crew
makes for a band unperturbed by the proverbial red recording
light—the interplay throughout is relaxed and intimate, but
never at a loss for inventiveness and surprise. This is a
magical disc that yields a little bit more musical treasure
upon each return.
—Mike
Hotter
 The
Erotics
30
Seconds Over You (self-released)
Just
in time for Halloween come the first two tracks on the Erotics’
new album: “Same Nightmare Everyday” and “Your Mommy Is a
Monster,” which share more with Alice Cooper than just ghoulish
themes and black eyeliner. Although the album starts rather
incongruously with flamenco guitar (a more appropriate cowbell
kicks off the title track), 30 Seconds Over You is
full of Cooper-esque glam rock, stripped to its core of sleazy
vocals, heavy-metal guitar and shout-along refrains. That
trifecta of elements is used to great effect on the album
highlight “Where the Action Never Stops,” an anthem to teenage
rebellion that wouldn’t sound out of place pumping out of
arenas everywhere. Currently touring in the U.K. behind this
latest album, a follow-up to Rock-N-Roll Killing Machine,
the Erotics should be giving U.K. rock fans plenty of head-banging
material with tracks like the junkie-baiting “Ain’t Your Fix”
and the vicious, but catchy, “It’s True.”
—Kirsten
Ferguson
 Sugar
Cookie
Sugar
Cookie Music (October Twelve)
Sugar
Cookie is not actually a band. It’s more of a songwriter and
producer’s project, helmed by Dan Sorensen. Interestingly,
Sorensen first recorded drum tracks that he then sent on to
four songwriters: Bryan Thomas, Ben Karis, Martha Kronholm,
and Troy Pohl. The seven tracks were completed with the addition
of a few other area musicians jumping into the pool. For an
album that had none of the musicians performing together,
it does offer a cohesive ensemble sound on individual songs.
Given the concept at hand, the set plays like a compilation,
with the sound varying widely depending on who wrote and is
singing each of the particular songs. There’s everything from
the pseudo Prince of Thomas’ “Anythang” to the fuzzy throb
of Pohl’s “Big, Bright and Loud.” The most resonant songs
were the two penned by Kronholm, offering hypnotically inviting
layers of alluring mystery. If this was Sorensen’s way of
auditioning future writing partners, hang on to Martha Kronholm
and build a full album around her.
—David
Greenberger
 The
Sense Offenders
The
Sense Offenders (self-released)
Albany
band the Sense Offenders play ballsy, macho rock that is led
by the vocal growl and songwriting sensibilities of the undeniably
talented Tom McWatters. “Razor’s Edge” opens up the album
with an ominous rumble that builds into a booty-shaking, hard-rock
scrum upheld by the slashing power chords of guitarist Eric
Halder and the precision clatter of drummer (and Metroland
editor) John Brodeur. But it’s McWatters’ feral, bluesy howl
that truly marks this territory as serious business. “Loaded
With My Love” mixes things up a bit by offering more of a
rock & roll, not hard-rock, attack that lands somewhere
closely in the neighborhood of 1970s Elvis Costello or Rockpile.
Mostly though, this album is supreme “cock rock,” finely executed
with balls to match. Few people could drop lines like “It’s
cold outside/So come in soon/Join the revival in my bedroom”
(from “Stiff Breeze”) and be taken seriously. But McWatters,
with that dirty howl and all of that heavy artillery behind
him (and some righteous organ), pulls it off quite well. Sure,
this is dead serious “rawk,” but one also gets the sense that
the Sense Offenders are having a whole lot of fun living it
up like Free or Bad Company did back in the day.
—Erik
Hage
Complicated Shirt
Compromising
Compositions (Alone/NFI)
Complicated
Shirt’s second disc is a rollercoaster of moods and time signatures;
just when you settle in for some good old fashioned rock &
roll bile, for example, the band offers something in 3/4 time
that sounds almost pretty. That the Shirt accomplishes this
in a compact 23 minutes is worth mentioning.
The opening song, “Re silient,” delivers the bile. Vocalist-songwriter
Drew Benton furiously spits out slogans and non sequiturs
as if his brain can’t keep up with his hate, while bassist
Jason Jette and drummer Jonathan Pellerin are right with him
in musical fury. The drums sound as ostentatious as the guitar.
“The
Somnambulateur” is a melodic lament spiked with an angry outburst
of intricate wordplay; one gets the impression that Benton
doesn’t give a shit if you think it means something,
because it damn well means something to him. “Seasonal Affective
Disorder” is a reasonable, tortured musical representation
of its ostensible subject; the Hunky Dory-esque vocal
stylings help. And, God help them, “Today’s Front Page (the
day of the mosquito)” is almost radio-friendly—that is, if
radio were still friendly.
The disc ends on a strange note, with the church-organ sound
of “Bad Plumbing Beneath a Spilled Philter.” Which, if you
think about it, is perfectly appropriate.
So don’t think about it.
—Shawn
Stone
 Two
Gun Man
King
of Spain EP (self-released)
Reid
Waring sounds like a cross between Ray Davies and Gene Ween
on “Sunrise,” the opening track from Hudson-based quartet
Two Gun Man’s debut EP. King of Spain is an even six
tracks of palatable roots-rock, from the twee-Uncle Tupelo
sound (one imagines their bottles filled with white wine rather
than moonshine) of “Sunrise” to the locomotive-country of
“Train Whistle.” On the 6/8 ballad “Helen,” Waring’s voice
smoothes out into a croon that uncannily resembles Gordon
Lightfoot, and a brief doo-doo-doo refrain warrants the song’s
final 60 seconds. The group sound most comfortable in one
of their two main modes, pleasingly manic or broadly evocative;
they’re least convincing on the faux-soul bridges of “Black
Cat,” which sound forced and never quite lock in. Still, a
good train song is a good train song, and, for most of King
of Spain, Two Gun Man are . . . wait for it . . . on the
right track.
—John
Brodeur
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