Austin Sound

CDs are a fickle mistress; in this age of digital everything, they can be a hallowed sanctum unreachable by hard-drive errors, or they can be those scratch magnets that disappear only to be found years later in the bowels of one’s dresser or car. With Benko’s debut album, Welcome to the Follow Through, this fear of loss has been assuaged. I always know where my copy is: in my stereo.

Following the Austin penchant for defying typical instrumentation, Benko also has a knack for actually sounding decent while doing it. The first time vibraphone player Sarah Norris taps a key on opener “Isle of Man,” the concept of the vibraphone lead-line just makes sense. Something about the sustain of each note lends a hopeful air to even this somewhat sad tale, in which bassist/vocalist Eric Grostic feebly croons “they’ll leave you all alone/ they don’t know what they got ‘til you’re gone.” Grostic has a water-thin voice that retains a nerdy, angsty charm without sounding contrived, and drummer Aaron Dugan keeps his drums reined in on a short but appropriate leash.

For a band that has already conquered the Austin music scene like a frenzied Cortés-with-a-smile, it may seem superfluous to name an album “Exposion”. In no short supply of prior popularity, White Denim is guaranteed to capture at least an ear or two with its first full-length album. Indeed, it’s amazing this group got so far without having a full-length up to this point, but their success rests on one key fact: by melody if possible, by force if necessary, White Denim compels the listener to have fun.

In their latest release, currently available only in digital format, Denim has crafted 11 meandering, spastic glimpses into an alternate universe where, villain or hero, everyone taps a toe and snaps a finger in time.

For many, the genre of Modern Folk appears derivative, used up, and withered; a mockery of some bygone era long since grown impure. Austin’s Brothers and Sisters, with their newest release, Fortunately, contravene this concept - creating, in effect, Austin’s first Postmodern Folk album. Its music is fresh and honest, not because it mimics that golden era of mid-20th-century folk, but because its chords and sentiments seem to flow directly from the past and combine effortlessly with the band’s modern storytelling sensibilities. In these fourteen songs, the band is at once ironic and non-patronizing, tearing just at the edge of novel and nostalgic.

Opening with “Mason City,” Lily and Will Courtney immediately introduce classic folk themes of travel and loss, as the two harmonize “I’d give anything just to get back home/ … I’m a runaway.” For these two, the contradiction between the desire to flee and the need to feel at home has never been so strong.

Stories occasionally surface of actors who, attempting to capture the essence of a role, are incapable of letting go of their new persona— unable to immediately “switch off,” they retain the language and mannerisms of some past character even after the final cut. Austin’s Ghost of the Russian Empire, with their first full length, “The Mammoth,” encounter a similar pitfall—after establishing their own spectral, mournful shoegaze sound, the band refuses to move on or cover new ground.

Starting with the entrancing “Decade Without a Death,” GOTRE wears their influences on the sleeves of their greatcoats, opening with what sounds like the intro to a Godspeed, You! Black Emperor album before the tempo picks up, unfolding into a fast paced, haunting affair. Each snare hit drives the band forward as delayed rhythm guitar meets ultra-reverbed vocals, making the band seem ten feet underwater, a sound that continues for the remainder of the album.

Austin’s The Sword may be, as their latest full length album claims, the Gods of the Earth, but that doesn’t mean the gods-on-high have forgotten them. Following up on what was called by many the essential metal album of 2006, as well as an endorsement by a certain video game that shall remain nameless, the Sword had a lot of pressure coming from all sides. Can a band that owes so much of its style to now-defunct metal legends continue its trend of wanton, no-holds-barred retro metal without having the irony fade? The answer, simply, is yes: if this is Th Sword’s sophomore slump, I can’t wait to see what lies ahead.

Falling heavily on the “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” doctrine, Gods of the Earth, like Age of Winters before it, starts off with a vocal-free intro track to build momentum. This time around, though, the bands maturity, not simply their power chords, blares through. An acoustic guitar, supported by restrained electric notes, establishes a calm that quickly breaks into the more familiar hail of overdriven triplets in a way that can only be described as spiritually

Music credentials in Austin are like ambulance sirens: they precede the band by miles, and generally ring hollow in one’s ears long after the original noise source has vanished into obscurity. With this in mind, one couldn’t help but be suspicious when news arrived that Erik Wofford (Explosions in the Sky/ Voxtrot) and Jim Eno (Spoon) agreed to produce Austin group All Hail’s new EP. Both of these men hold a special place in Austin’s collective indie mythology, but one wonders if their names overshadow the band’s own talent as a selling device. Luckily for the band, a single listen-through of the latest EP, Every Wealth, assuages these fears - those portentous sirens are nowhere to be found.

Some people are bad with names. Mnemonics, associations, cute little rhymes, nothing can help these unfortunate souls from staring blankly into a strange friend’s face and uttering an embarrassed, “Do I know you?” I have no idea who Ethan Durelle is, but after hearing this Waco quartet’s sophomore album, “Talks to the Dark,” Durelle is a name I won’t soon be forgetting.

The album plays out like a Film Noir classic but with a protagonist who isn’t afraid to be seen bleeding. “Downtown Man” begins as a brooding, feedback-tinged warning of the introspection to come, as vocalist Evan Lecker growls, “The way downtown is never that easy…the sun in the sky/ she murders your backside.” The boys start early by building to a sonorous climax of cymbals and flanged guitar before transitioning into “Disruption�Sharks,” a track that splits between sparse dark verses and undeniably catchy choruses. Jeff Weathers’ drum work manages to remain varied without ever resting; his driving rhythms keep the songs moving along and give a sense of restlessness and desperation that is further accented by Lecker’s howling high notes that sound like all the best parts of Sparta’s Jim Ward.

A band with a history of getting pigeonholed by names, Amplified Heat began its days under a very different moniker: the Blues Connection. After seeing that many showgoers expected a more traditional blues act, and predicting the rock and roll direction of the band, the three brothers agreed a name change was in order. With How Do You Like the Sound of That?, the third release by Austin’s booze-n’-blues powerhouse, the band once again changes up the mix. One can’t help but expect more of the fast, hard energy envisioned by the Brothers Ortiz those many years ago, but instead the 11 track album ambles along to a more traditional - and more personal - blues sound.

Some music lends itself to be listened to after imbibing exotic substances. Some music demands it. Then, there is music that aurally inserts pills and potions into the listener’s body with such subtlety that one is trapped under its influence before he can even realize what is happening. Tia Carrera’s latest effort, Heaven/Hell, falls into this latter category. Carrying the listener on a three track spiritual journey, Carrera’s new EP is wonderfully unrelenting, even if at times tedious.

While other bands often take the time to build to an impressive climax, Austin’s own Amplified Heat cuts out the middleman, inducing a coronary upon the listener from the get-go. Within seconds of hitting play on the aptly named “Heart Attack,” the first track of their reissued self-titled debut, one thing is made very clear—if you can’t take the Heat, get out of the kitchen.

Taking standard fare blues-influenced classic rock and kicking it up so many notches that Emeril Lagasse himself would scoff, this seven track release sets the baseline from which this band’s future career should be measured. A freshman album that sounds more like a senior thesis, the EP quickly advances from the grindfest of “Heart Attack” to the more swinging and bluesy “I Don’t Care.” Jim Ortiz’ gruff vocals relate a story of (somewhat happily) lost love in general blues/rock fashion, but with an intensity that makes even the most teetotaling listener want to grab a drink to take the edge off. Gian’s colorful bass fills add complexity and subtlety to the otherwise simplistic song design, but still work to hold down the low end modestly enough. The frenetic “Bi-Polar” allows Chris’ drumwork to shine, and illustrates his impressive stamina and energy that lends much to the band’s signature style.