Jalamanta (1999)
7.5
Lazy Bones / Automatic Fantastic / Cobra Jab / Too Many Chiefs…
Not Enough Indians / Sun Brother / “Let’s Get Chinese Eyes”
/ Toot / Defender of the Oleander / Low Desert Punk / Waiting
for a Coconut to Drop / Her Brown Blood / Indio
Meet
Brant Bjork, the JJ Cale of the Californian Desert. He already was co-architect
of the heavy psychedelic stoner sound with Kyuss (he played drums on their
first three albums), was a member of Fu Manchu during the latter half of the
nineties and is steadily creating an impressive catalogue of his own. If you
expect his albums to contain the thunderous drumming he delivered when he
was with Kyuss (check out his “Green Machine” on Blues for
the Red Sun, perhaps the band’s pinnacle), you’re in for
a disappointment, but what you do get is that desert vibe. Like Cale’s
records, Bjork’s won’t make you rise out of the chair and yell
“WOW, what the FUCK was THAT?”, as they’re too
laidback and lazy sounding, but once you’ve grown accustomed to that
groove of his, you’ll settle back, open a beer and go with the flow.
Tracks like “Automatic Fantastic” are nearly hypnotic, so mellow
it’s nearly ‘sleepy’ and more concerned about groove than
structure and hooks. The best thing about it all is that, despite the song
being a really simple, frill-less one, there’s loads of influences detectable;
from ‘70’s funk-soul, the vibe of reggae, the warm guitar tones
of Hendrix and Santana, to psychedelic jams. The fact that Bjork recorded
the album entirely by himself (with additional guitars by Marco “Fatso
Jetson” Lalli and Gary Arce) makes it even more astounding, as the guitar
stuff sounds like it’s laid down by Steve Cropper on an acid trip.
Psychedelic influences pop up throughout the entire album, mainly in the gentlest grooves: “Let’s get Chinese Eyes,” for instance, proves that a merger of psych and jazzy rhythms still makes sense, while the meandering “Defender of the Oleander” has “TRIP” all over it. Some of the songs are a bit more muscular: the tight “Too Many Chiefs… Not Enough Indians” with its dreamy, whispered vocals would’ve fit on any album by the Queens of the Stone Age, whereas the funky “Toot” (with vocals by Lalli) and the magnificent, rumbling “Low Desert Punk” harkens back to the desert sound of Bjork’s first band. Occasionally, the music gets dangerously close to ‘snoozing’ (“Waiting for a Coconut to Drop,” basically a slowed-down version of “Let’s Get Chinese Eyes,” is even reminiscent of Yo La Tengo’s introvert soundscapes) and stuff like “Sun Brother” is a bit too fluffy for its own good, but the song sequencing will grab your attention throughout Jalamanta’s one hour-length. So, it’s not nearly as hard-rocking as any of his previous bands, but if you’re looking for what’s possibly the – need I repeat the word? – mellowest (in a good way) album on the market, this one should be your pick. Just make sure there’s enough beer in the fridge and plenty o’ herbs on the side-table next to the rocking chair.
Note: The album has been out of print since Man’s Ruin (the label that originally distributed it) went bankrupt, but Bjork re-released the album on his own label – Duna Records – in 2003.
Brant Bjork & the Operators (2002)
7
Hinda65 / Smarty Pants / My Ghettoblaster / Electric Lalli Land
/ From the Ground up (We Just Stay the Same) / Cheap Wine / Cocoa Butter
/ Joey’s Radio / Captain Lovestar / Hinda65 (Return Flight)
Still
spacey, but in a different way. Despite what the title suggests, Brant
Bjork & the Operators is very much a solo album, with Bjork doing
the basics and a few people (Marco Lalli, Scream’s Franz Stahl, a guy
called Mathias Schneeberger, who also produced the album) adding extra guitar
or keyboards. This second album is more ambitious, has a broader approach
and is more song-oriented than Jalamanta, but it’s also less
charming. “Hinda65” immediately shows you the main difference:
the keyboards. They’re not the ones with the ‘70’s sound,
or organ sound, but the spacey ones the new wavers used two decades ago. Some
people mentioned Devo and The Cars, and it does make sense, no matter how
weird that comparison may be. While the opening track is basically a stretched
out exercise in monotony (but in a good way), the songwriting has become much
tighter and hook-laden during some of the other songs, and maybe it’s
just me, but this time around, those are exactly the songs that work best.
Take “My Ghettoblaster,” for instance, probably the catchiest
song any member of the whole Kyuss/QOTSA/Mondo Generator-scene ever released.
It’s got a muscular riff and straightforward drive, but check out that
“sweet” melody during the chorus and those slick keyboard-accents…
pure gold. The same goes for “Cheap Wine,” the kind of song you’d
rather expect on a, um, pop album: it’s got a slightly dated
retro-sound, but Bjork succeeds in putting more diversity in his vocals than
before which benefits some of these songs which otherwise would’ve been
a bit pedestrian.
There’s nothing as catchy as those two songs on the album, but “Smarty Pants” will also appeal to those who dig QOTSA’s softer side. That’s not nearly all, as “Joey’s Radio” (a tribute to the holy Ramone) could be labelled as “power pop” (use your imagination). Of course, there’s also stuff that would make the mainstream music fan yawn all day long: “From the Ground up” is a semi-successful, slightly discordant rocker, “Captain Lovestar” builds up a six minute-groove that gets a bit tedious after a while, and then there’s of course the three instrumentals (and who cares about those these days?). Whereas those on Jalamanta made you wish they’d continue for ten minutes each, they are a bit less interesting here: “Electric Lalli Land” with its wah-wah effects and nervous, prog-styled drumming is impressive from a musician’s point-of-view, but a bit over-indulgent from mine; while the greasy, jazz noodling of “Cocoa Butter” could’ve done with a bit more energy. The majority of the songs are still dang enjoyable though, just like the instrumental “Hinda65 (Return Flight)” that ends the album on an impressive note with a ‘70’s-styled, Lalo Schifrin-tribute that would work great in a sleazy porn flic or cop movie. Brant Bjork & the Operators certainly has its merits (a great, warm sound, strong playing, diversity, a cover that has to be a pun on Cheech & Chong’s Wedding Album, considering the similarity in dress code/attitude), but the songs aren’t always the beneficiaries, and some were probably more fun to make than to listen to.
Keep Your Cool (2003)
8
Hey, Monkey Boy / Johnny Called / Rock-n-Rol’e / I
Miss My Chick / Keep Your Cool / Gonna Make the Scene / Searchin’
/ My Soul
He
should’ve called it Dear Music Fan, the Shiny Disc You’re
Holding in Your Hands Basically Contains One 33-Minute Groove, and the
title would’ve been even more fitting than it already is. Keep Your
Cool is possible the grooviest album I have EVER heard (it tops
Jalamanta, which is quite an achievement). From start to finish,
it’s concerned with the flexibility of the vertebras in your neck, the
elasticity of your hips and your spiritual well-being. Gone are the hesitant
pop pretensions of Brant Bjork & the Operators and so is most
of the noodling that some of his earlier songs contained. What you get instead
are simple, minimalist rhythms, riffs and vocals that combine the sheer funkiness
of early Funkadelic records with the trance-like progressions of Fat Possum-styled
blues. I bet some people would accuse Bjork of underachieving for releasing
an 8-song album that barely makes an emotional, or even stylistic, impact,
and flows for a good half instead, but it’s something he’s really
good at. It’s quite superfluous to discuss the songs separately, but
there are slight differences that keep things interesting enough to distinguish
‘em: the short nonsensical introduction “Hey, Monkey Boy”
is followed by the pothead groove of “Johnny Called,” which then
basically continues for a few songs. When “Rock-n-Rol’e”
goes a bit tougher, it sounds like a laidback version of AC/DC-meets-Thin
Lizzy, while the funk-blues riff of “I Miss My Chick” is
an addictive stomper you’ll want to hear over and over again. The instrumental
title track offers some sonic diversity by including acoustic guitars as well,
and “Gonna Make the Scene” has falsetto vocals that once again
remind you Bjork is the desert version of the midget from Minneapolis. And
so it goes on, until the album reaches its conclusion when “My Soul”
- which does contain what it’s about – simply fades out. That’s
about it, there’s nothing more to tell. Keep Your Cool is a
short, warm, funky, sexy and immensely enjoyable album by a guy who’s
doing what he does best and realizes that “less” may not be “more,”
but can certainly be “enough.” He’s right.
Local Angel (2004)
6
Beautiful Powers / Hippie / Chico / The Feelin' / Bliss Ave.
/ Fly to Haiti / You're Alright / Spanish Tiles / She's Only Tryin' / The
Good Fight / Hey Joe / I Want You Around
I
stopped smoking grass years ago. When I listen to this album, I wish I never
had. If Keep Your Cool is one of the grooviest albums ever to grace
my ears, this one might be one of the mellowest. In fact, it's twice as calm
and intimate as anything he's ever done before, so if those efforts didn't
work for you because you missed the spark of crushing guitars and rumbling
rhythm sections, you're gonna consider this the aural equivalent of catatonia.
Perhaps, the J.J. of the low desert has indeed been a bit lazy this
time around, as Local Angel is so carefree and loose, sounding so tossed-off,
that it didn't even bother to pack a decent bunch of interesting ideas, riffs,
melodies, or whatever it takes to become something I'd recommend wholeheartedly.
The problem isn't the sound, as becomes clear from the first songs
onwards. The Rancho de la Luna studio still does the trick and most songs
feature a comfortably warm sound, with especially the bass being very nice,
which is a plus if you're not using drums, like in opener "Beautiful Powers,"
a dreamy slice of soul featuring a jazzy solo that's mellower than any vaseline-song
by Steely Dan. "Hippie," one of the album highlights, got the appropriate
music to fit the title: a simple, thumping bass line and a nifty wah wah-solo
halfway the song - although I don't remember why it switches to another song
(or jam) after the 4:00-mark. Equally groovy are "Bliss Ave.," basically an
extended version of Keep Your Cool's "Hey, Monkey Boy" and "The Good
Fight," the stomping song that closes the album with an unlikely opening line
like "I'm like boiling water, you better get out of my way." Unfortunately,
the other songs on the album don't live up to these songs, although there's
nothing repulsive or failed about 'em. "Chico" and "Spanish Tiles" are mainly
acoustic, and while the first one almost seems to offer a caricature of the
stoner life (hangin' out, smokin' weed, getting' fired for bein' lazy, etc),
the second one could've done with a bit more muscle. The same's basically
true for songs like "You're Alright" and "She's Only Tryin'," songs that might
do the job if this is your introduction to Bjork's brand of minimalism, but
are certainly a bit slight compared to earlier stuff. "You're Alright" boasts
some fine wah wah and Cool-style, but something tells me this is but
a decent variation on earlier themes, while also "She's Only Tryin'" falls
a bit short of the mark, with a chorus that's a bit too reminiscent of "My
Ghettoblaster" from his second album. You won't hear a negative word about
Bjork coming out of my mouth - he was a sweet guy when I spoke to him earlier
this year and delivered one of the best gigs I've
seen the past years - but I really feel he could've been better this time
around. It doesn't have to live up to the awesome groove-fests his gigs can
be, but I'd rather not be confronted with this version of the stoner aesthetic
either and Local Angel definitely could've done with a bit more
creative input.
Read album reviews of similar or related artists: Queens of the Stone Age - Mark Lanegan - The Meters - AC/DC - Hermano