Review: Dish – Ma Raison De Vivre Ton Amour

Originally published in Delusions of Adequacy June 17, 2009

There’s plenty to love about Ma Raison De Vivre Ton Amour, the second outing from Dish, but the verdict is still out over the disc’s most engaging attribute. Is it the vocals of Roberto Aguilar, the eerie way his wail channels Jeff Buckley at his always-familiar, rock-inflected peaks? Or is it the junk percussion of brother Nathaniel Aguilar, the jagged and inventive backbone of the duo? No matter your answer, this disc, out now on ROA Records, will transfix you – and for all the right reasons.

The disc begins with what, for lack of a better term, could be called a spiritual number or even a work song, the voices multi-tracked over the banging of a metal rail and a hubcap. But, after that 90-second introduction, Ma Raison De Vivre Ton Amour kicks into gear with “Cold Is,” a bright pop-rock nugget with plenty of hooks and a fist-pumping chorus. From there, the disc simply carries you from one great moment to the next. There’s “This Ain’t Livin’,” where Roberto Aguilar largely sets the pace with a shuffling acoustic guitar, and “Tired of Writing Songs,” which unfurls a lullaby guitar line over clattering percussion. On “Closer Dead,” Nathaniel Aguilar dresses up a pensive verse with the occasional pop of found percussion. On the sensual “Pictora” or the driving “Flutter,” the junk, the way those notes spike and jump out of the speakers, nearly steals the show.

The disc is also nothing if not diverse. At one turn, these guys are refining the art of the low-key (the trippy “The Song I Couldn’t Say,” the ballad “I Will Run For Our Love”). Then, without stumbling, they shift to the grandiose, from the country-and-western-tinged “Letter To You” to the excellent “Flutter,” which fleshes out its refrains with trumpet, trombone, French horn and tuba.

There are too many great moments on the 16-song disc to list, from the jazzy swing-and-sway of “I Saw A Bird” to the poppy humor of “Zombie Love Song” to “Death and Romance,” which begins with vibraphone but ends a dirgy barnburner.  The disc ends with “Because The End Is Near,” where the brothers Aguilar again accompany the proceedings with horns. But, here the mood is reflective, a moment of pause at the end of 53 incredible minutes. It’s a calming curtain-close, almost an antidote to the heightened pop-rock pulse of it all. Not if only we could determine to which element of the band we should pledge our allegiance.

Review: Point Juncture Wa. – Heart To Elk

Originally published in Delusions of Adequacy June 8, 2009

The album begins with the click and clack of electronic percussion but, within moments, carefully gives way to humming horns and punctuation from a vibraphone. The percussion, on a full kit and now more pronounced, slinks along, a jazzy shuffle. The mood is somewhere between sleepy and dreamy, that ill-defined middle ground where the world starts feeling fuzzy and then slips away. “How blissful it would be to think only of me,” sings Amanda Spring, her breathy voice floating right in the middle of the mix. This is our introduction.

Point Juncture, Wa. isn’t really a place in the sense that conventional maps or cartographers would have you believe. But if the attributes of the Portland-based quartet that has chosen the moniker as its name were applied to a town, a real speck on the map, it surely would be inviting. Every home on every block would be warmly lighted from within, the winding roads would be clutter-free and every intersection would be carefully plotted. City planners would appear to leave nothing to chance.

Heart to Elk, Point Juncture, Wa.’s third release, is evidence of this modus operandi but, make no mistakes, it’s far from cold or over-calculated. It’s a beautiful and well-produced record, one whose craft is clearly matched by the attention and care it received in the studio. Its 13 songs sometimes lack the requisite hooks to call it pop, but there’s something almost inherently catchy about the material, something that quietly slides it under the surface of your skin to make it feel at home. This is music to remember.

For lack of more precise terms, Heart to Elk sits at the same intersection of pop, rock and jazz once occupied by Eleventh Dream Day. There are moments on the 49-minute disc that pump the blood (the distortion-drenched “Biathalon,” the closing minutes of “Melon Bird”) and there are others that are quiet and contemplative (“Rocks and Sand,” “The Easy Winners”). At one turn, the band is offsetting grungy bass with gentle background cooing (“New Machine”); at the next, it’s placing a gently strummed acoustic guitar front and center alongside interjecting horns (“Kings Part II”). “Viking Mission to Mars” is a pop-rock gem, complete with frenetic refrains. “Stray Bear” veers between the honey-dipped and the adrenaline-pumped. “Sick On Sugar,” with its light-footed guitars and blaring horns, feels like it’s about to soar out of your stereo.

The record ends with another song aided by electronic percussion — “The Easy Winners.” But, here, unlike on the album-opener, the electronic percussion lingers, pockmarking the background as the band builds and rebuilds a song with the solitary notes of an electric guitar, understated bass and Victor Nash’s plaintive vocals. (“It’s better if you don’t, it’s better if you don’t,” he sings, pleading.) The song then buckles under the weight of clattering guitars, roiling drums and carefully timed backing vocals, everything in its right place, more details in yet another song worth remembering.