2L April 99 Studio - Two Louies Magazine

Continued from page 8
Brown’s “We’ll See,” also recorded live on KBOO, is
an all-around shitkicking two-step
yahoo romp, chock-full of awshucks
guitar pickin’.
Baseboard Heaters are as
comfortable as an old pair of
sneakers. Their songs lack classic
hooklines or choruses, yet
they resonate with enough dusty
charm to pass muster. Stroup’s familiar
vocal twang isn’t memorable on its own, but
rings with a certain vibrancy. Brown’s
edgy guitar stylings are a spirited sprint
through cowpie heaven, with enough
crunch in the clinches to rock out
when necessary.
All in all, the Heaters
generate enough warmth to
take the chill off a room,
but it never quite gets toasty
or steamy. Refinement of
their promising songwriting
ability would bode the band
well as would a concentration
on the individual songs’
presentation. There is much
to like about the band, but not
quite enough (as yet) to set them apart
from other bands of their breed.
Old Man Motel— Fernando
Crave Dog Records
Fernando Viciconte, teamed with producer/
prodigy/multi-instrumentalist Luther Russell, turned
in one of Portland’s best albums of 1998 with Pacoima,
a raucous and tender tribute to Viciconte’s Hispanic
heritage. The sad/joyous piquancy of that Spanish
sung masterpiece stands in testament to the special
musical abilities that both musicians demonstrated
with uncanny regularity. Because this new album is a
“Fernando Viciconte, and presumably Luther Russell,
have concocted another minor masterpiece with Old
Man Motel. They mine rich veins of musical gold,
utilizing well-planned arrangements and magical
production choices.”
May release, the advance copy received contained no
information whatsoever regarding the lineup of musical
contributors. So, it is impossible to determine
with absolute certitude that Russell has indeed returned
to produce and play on this outing, but all the
elements are in place to hazard an educated guess that
he probably has.
Page 10 - TWO LOUIES, April 1999
For this is another wonderful record, full of a
rich musical heritage that spreads its Latin roots
through the fertile ground of such disparate Rock
influences as the Beatles, Creedence and Neil Young,
the Blues and traditional Folk genres; with succinct
instrumental accompaniment and very few wasted
strokes. The marriage of Fernando’s rich voice and
intelligent songs with artful arrangements
and clever
photo Buko
Fernando; tapped into the wellspring of genius.
instrumentation makes for a marvelously eclectic
collection, nearly as endearing as its predecessor.
The album “starts up” with the driving “Ride” a
chunky piece of swamp dog, raw and sinewy. A simple
electric guitar figure, sort of like a twisted version of
that found in Creedence’s “Born On The Bayou,” floats
over an insistent upstroke Tex-Mex rhythm guitar and
buoyant bass, an urgent cowbell pushing the beat of
the catchy chorus, as Fernando shouts down some
bad voogum vocals. Rootsy and timeless. Very cool.
Very cool too is the Beatlesque “Same Ol’ King,”
Lennon inspired piano plunking and close-harmony
vocals call to mind something from the Sergeant Pepper
period. Even more John-like is the stirring “Jesus,”
in which Fernando captures precisely the visceral
angst of Lennon’s “Mother,” while smoldering Neil
Young inspired guitars rumble and flare beneath.
Tough stuff!
“So. California” echoes Nilsson’s “Everybody’s
Talkin’.” A fluttering acoustic guitar butterflies across
a meadow of grazing cello-like guitar accents; faint
breezes of flute sounds and chimes of steel-guitar
whisp and whirl on the periphery. Yet a cloud of sadness
shadows the vocal melody, making of this a
hauntingly memorable song. More Neil Young riffage
with the churning guitar chords of “Couldn’t Believe,”
a dead ringer for “Ohio” from the CSNY days.
Fernando’s slippery vocal delivery in the verses
and Lennon-flavored cries in the choruses
move the tune
away from
the mundane
toward
the sublime.
Keyboard
flutes and
chattering maracas
flicker as if in
dim candlelight, as
waltzing rimshots play
against Fernando’s gentle
vocal and lilting harmonies in
the choruses of “Deviant.” Another
touchingly pretty song. Fractious
glancing guitar stabs and glaring organ
pads parry with Viciconte’s gutsy vocal
on “Swing Low,” a slow, lurching number
with a menacing fervor at its core.
The title track is driven by a skittering piano
and jittery upstroke rhythm guitar chops,
well-blended harmony vocals meld at the center
of the mix, angelic amidst the chaotic surroundings.
“Another Victim” has a strong chorus and a molten
guitar solo section. “Rainin’ Outside” is a jagged piece
of slap-back pie, a Carl Perkins crust with inspired
vocal filling; whopping dollops of slide guitar and
rickety drumsticks dancing on the snare rim lopped
on the top. The ensemble takes the arrangement up a
notch in the back half, grinding out some gritty Rock,
a milieu in which Viciconte is entirely within his element.
Tasty.
“Angyline” moves from the intimate cabin jam
of the intro into a Country flavored rumble down
that dusty old dirt road. A darker passage lies in the
moody “In The End.” A solitary acoustic guitar is the
only accompaniment to Fernando’s lone accompaniment,
with a harmony vocal joining in at the turnaround.
Midway, a churchy organ joins in the mix,
joined sometime later by slide guitars and drum backing
building to a forceful finale. The “bonus track,”
“El Legale,” sounds like an outtake from Pacoima: a
rollicking Tex Mex enchilada smothered in cheese and
hot sauce. Yeow!
Fernando Viciconte, and presumably Luther
Russell, have concocted another minor masterpiece
with Old Man Motel. They mine rich veins of musi-
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