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In Detmer's case, his "hit" quotient is pretty high, mainly because a) he knows how to play his instruments, b) he doesn't write songs outside of his vocal range, and c) he's got a pleasant sense of melody that invites listeners to stick around to the closing notes. (Too bad overblown hype-ocondriacs like White Stripes, The Strokes, and The Vines don't possess any of these attributes.) Highlights on his second album include the stoney vibe of "Dream Song," the countrified, drunken, campfire singalong, "Why Did You Cry," the psych pop trappings of "Baby," the Bill (Smog) Callahan (himself a one man band)-meets-Neil Young hicksterisms of "It's Allright" and the lazy Sunday afternoon afterglow of the catchy "Spaceship" and closer, "Wings of Time." Unfortunately, the more introspective, experimental tracks like "Wake Me Up" and the garagey, "Volunteers"-like noise of the hidden track fail to escape their pretensions and will unlikely impress anyone outside of Detmer's close circle of friends and relatives. But, overall, a smooth, sleepy, laidback groove is maintained throughout, making this a worthwhile purchase from the local used bin for alt.country, no depression, americana fans of Wilco, (Smog), Young, Jayhawks, et.al. Another one man band project (told you they were as common as dirty underwear in a gym locker), Faris, we are told, doesn't get out much—he doesn't go to (or give) live gigs and he doesn't buy music to scope out the competition (despite the sentiment of the Pythonesque music hall closer, "I Like To Go To Parties"). Considering the shit that passes for "music" these days, it's a commendable stance that heads off accusations of "sounds like..." at the pass. But the self-imposed exile only means that Faris can pull a Brian Wilson and stay hermetically sealed in his one-room apartment and listen to his old record collection and then impress us with his encyclopedic knowledge of the music of Ray Davies ("Brogadiccio" and "The Man in The Moon"), Paul McCartney (his one man band solo debut is all over "Let's Get Married") and more recent cantankerous, envelope pushers like Andy Partridge ("A Famous Life" is pure XTC). Unlike Detmer, however, Nourallah's tunes tend toward the piano-based, singer/songwriter, introspective variety and anyone will tell you that navel-gazing can be boring—and listening to the sound of one man gazing can be excruciating. This is more than evident across the middle stretch of "The Road," "Denial," "Desire" (despite an attempt at slumber-rousing backward-masked vocals) and "Diamonds For Baby," which are all quite dull indeed. My advice to Faris is to get out more often. Then he'd realize this stuff is pretty old hat. For fans of "loner rock" artists like Songs: Ohia, Rivulets and Bright Eyes; others will need a healthy supply of no-doze. Our third one-man-band project this month is also one of three concurrent projects from the prolific Jon De Rosa (Aarktica—see last month's review of Pure Tone Audiometry—and Dead Leaves Rising—full length on Plow City—are the others). Like the Cowboy Junkies' Trinity Sessions, this was recorded in a church (Sacred Heart in Duluth, Minnesota, the home town of producer Alan Sparhawk of snorecore minimalists, Low, who also recorded a live album in a church a few years back) and, blasphemous rumors aside, we get some of the best acoustics this side of the men's room on a Joe Meek or Phil Spector record. As expected, there's a laidback, comfortable warmth about the recordings, the combined result of the hallowed surroundings and DeRosa's charming, mellow demeanor. Sparhawk and his wife Mimi contribute their trademark angelic backing vocals to "Will We Be Blessed Someday?" and at times on this release, the vibe of the old Catholic folk mass is revived. Jon debuted this project with "I Come Here Every Night," which originally appeared on the Silber Records release, The Alcohol Eps," and is re-recorded here (as Track 9—the listing on the CD booklet screws up the track sequence) with lovely accompaniment on bells and banjo (Marc Gartmen). Jon also turns in a lovingly faithful rendition of "I Told Jesus Christ I Love Her" (written and originally performed on that same collection by Brian John Mitchell—Silber owner who also records as Remora). The lengthy story in "Stars" is not for sufferers of attention deficit disorders: pay a close ear to the gentle ballad to reap its rewards; a good ear will also reveal the pun in "Aura Lee" (say it three times slow), a haunting love song with a memorable violin treatment courtesy Molly Sheridan. The short, relatively upbeat "Coney Island" lifts the album up from its otherwise dour surroundings (imagine crossing Red House Painters with Low and you're in the ballpark - or should I say, the front pew) as does the closer, "Prettiest Girl I've Seen Tonight (So Far)," which combines a John Prine-quality swaying melody with a stereotypical lost my dog... shot my wife lyric. And the herky-jerky, tears in my beer, Waltzing Matilda studder step syncopation closely approximates our stumbling, bumbling lovers as they make their way out of the bar and across the parking lot to where Jon thinks he left his car. A fitting finale to a foam-filled (and fueled) evening at your local house of worship. Pass the plate—it's time for a beer run.
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