ST-37, Ron Sexsmith, The Holmes Brothers

ST-37 celebrates 20 years of trips

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

ST-37

'And Then What'

(Noiseville)

Scott Telles is nothing if not persistent. Or is it consistent? Insistent?

His psychedelic rock band ST-37 has witnessed seismic upheavals in the Austin music scene. When he and his compadres started in January 1987, the Butthole Surfers were at the height of their dizzying power, throwing down a template for noisy rock chaos. In '97, ST-37 was still around, even as the '90s Austin noise rock scene was on its last legs and the Dallas/Denton space rock trend was wondering if it would break big. (Um, it didn't.)

Here in '07, psychedelic rock has reached a new underground peak, with avant-garde folkies, obtuse noiseniks and amp-destroying rock bands a seemingly permanent part of our atomized rock landscape. Noise and psych are so "back" that late '80s/early '90s boutique label Noiseville has popped out of retirement and released this LP-only monster.

Frankly, it's not too terribly different from ST-37's past albums (consistent!) though it is the final ST-37 record for longtime guitarist Mark Stone. Telles' bass wanders deep in the mix, his vocals following along. "Invocation of My Demon Brother" folds bits of Mick Jagger's score for the Kenneth Anger movie of the same name into a throbbing freakout, "Future Memories" rages and "First Light" drones. Here's to another 20 years.

ST-37 plays a record release party Friday at the Mowhawk.

—Joe Gross

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Ron Sexsmith

'Time Being'

(Ironworks)

Never let it be said that Sexsmith doesn't know songcraft. Rigorous yet ductile structures? Melody worthy of the Beatles (or at least their many, many imitators)? An earnest voice redoubling the sincerity of his emotionally deep-focus lyrics? All there.

But "Time Being" sees Sexsmith reuniting with Mitchell Froom, the producer who helmed all of Sexsmith's breakthrough albums in the '90s. An urge to rediscover past glories is understandable, but regrettable. Froom's heavy hand is almost instantly recognizable (as it has been with clients from Richard Thompson to Los Lobos) and hearing both of these guys fall back on old tricks makes new songs feel stale. On "All in Good Time," "Never Give Up" and the vaguely melodramatic "I Think We're Lost," up-front rhythms guide Sexsmith's well-meaning but slightly dull tunes (Hey, if you name a song "Jazz at the Bookstore," you're part of the problem, even if you claim to be opposed to such accompaniment to your browsing.)

"The Grim Trucker" goes further into Beatleslandia; you can practically see Peter Max animation behind the whistles and oom-pah stomp, while "Cold Hearted Wind" introduces some delicate finger-picking. It's never bad, but it's never challenging. If this is what adult rock is, no wonder so many 30-somethings don't want to grow up.

— Joe Gross

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The Holmes Brothers

'State of Grace'

(Alligator)

There's nothing here all that different from the Holmes Brothers' other albums, all of them gorgeous blends of '50s gospel, small-band funk and bluesy soul. But when you're this successful with a formula this winning, why change?

Guests include Roseanne Cash, who lends her pipes to "I Can't Help It If I'm Still in Love with You," Joan Osbourne on a rollicking "Those Memories of You," and Levon Helm on the appropriately Band-ish "I've Just Seen the Rock of Ages." "Bad Moon Rising" turns into the bayou stomp of John Fogerty's dreams and their own "Standing in the Need of Love" is gut-bucket blues of the first order.

But the most stunning cut is easily the cover of Cheap Trick's "I Want You to Want Me." With stately piano, close harmonies on the chorus and Wendell Holmes' soaring lead, the make the song born-again and sanctified, turning a smarmy pick-up line into an gospel ode to being worthy of love, God's or anyone else's. In other hands, such a song might come off as an ironic joke, too wry for its own good, no matter how clear-eyed the intentions. The fact that it is instead tear-inducing encapsulates the Holmes Brothers' singular vibe.

— Joe Gross