TUESDAY MAY 22, 2018
Omni
"Halfway through “Southbound Station,” the opening song on Omni’s second album Multi-task, bassist Philip Frobos sings, “I’m just waiting on the vibration.” He’s talking about a text message he’s expecting—definitely not about his group’s music. This Atlanta, Ga. trio never hesitates to get things moving. Their sound is all quivers and shakes and spasms, filled with wiry guitar chords, nervy basslines, and jolting beats. Every track is pithy and pointed to a nearly obsessive-compulsive degree. Only one of the album’s 11 songs lasts longer than three minutes, and the band always starts in high gear, revving hard before quickly reloading. This brand of restless kinetics could induce listener fatigue, but, much like the best purveyors of musical caffeination—Wire, Devo, Talking Heads—Omni avoid tedium by never forcing the action. They sell their nervous energy not as affectation or aesthetic statement, but simply as a logical way of dealing with the world. That was true on their 2016 debut, Deluxe, but on Multi-task they’ve honed their sound to the point where it’s hard to imagine them playing anything that doesn’t take sharp turns or hit abrupt stops. Omni’s sonic signature is aided by Frobos’ subdued vocals. Compared to the high-strung yelps of Mark Mothersbaugh or the geeky tremble of David Byrne, Frobos’ voice is decidedly deadpan, delivered in a semi-monotone as if he’s the calm center of a musical storm. At times it seems he views the music swirling around him as a surreal dream, and the only way to handle it is to stay cool and go with his band’s jagged flow. Frobos’ vocal chill is matched by his lyrics, which share Byrne’s knack for treating daily life like an alien puzzle. Many of Multi-task’s songs are about people meeting and relating, and Frobos often sounds perplexed that anyone ever manages to connect. During “Tuxedo Blues,” he begs a comrade to “speak out, say what you mean, without parting the sea”; in “Calling Direct,” his attempts to reach out are so frustrated that he decides he has to “stage a coup to get to you.” Eventually, in the skeptical “Date Night,” he questions the whole concept of shared experience: “When I’m looking are you seeing/Someone in a different light, another being?” All these laments fit music that’s aptly off-kilter, finding angles and divots where other bands might smooth things out. Many of those angles are the sum of Omni’s parts, as Frobos’ rubbery bass meshes with Frankie Broyles’ guitar playing and drumming (the group were between drummers when recording Multi-task, and have since enlisted Doug Bleichner of Warehouse in the role). But Broyles, a former member of Deerhunter, is often the star, slashing across the songs like a spark plug firing an engine. He’s particularly adept at chopping chords and chiming notes simultaneously, so his complex leads have a visceral thrust. On the herky-jerky “Choke,” his guitar sounds both threatening and joyous, while during the escalating “Supermoon,” he keeps his foot on the riff pedal while also weaving detailed lines. His synergy with Frobos comes to a head on closer “Type,” which displays the strengths of Omni in miniature: dodging momentum, confident swing, rough precision. But then miniatures are what this band does best, building small choices into an exhilarating whole." -Pitchfork
"Halfway through “Southbound Station,” the opening song on Omni’s second album Multi-task, bassist Philip Frobos sings, “I’m just waiting on the vibration.” He’s talking about a text message he’s expecting—definitely not about his group’s music. This Atlanta, Ga. trio never hesitates to get things moving. Their sound is all quivers and shakes and spasms, filled with wiry guitar chords, nervy basslines, and jolting beats. Every track is pithy and pointed to a nearly obsessive-compulsive degree. Only one of the album’s 11 songs lasts longer than three minutes, and the band always starts in high gear, revving hard before quickly reloading. This brand of restless kinetics could induce listener fatigue, but, much like the best purveyors of musical caffeination—Wire, Devo, Talking Heads—Omni avoid tedium by never forcing the action. They sell their nervous energy not as affectation or aesthetic statement, but simply as a logical way of dealing with the world. That was true on their 2016 debut, Deluxe, but on Multi-task they’ve honed their sound to the point where it’s hard to imagine them playing anything that doesn’t take sharp turns or hit abrupt stops. Omni’s sonic signature is aided by Frobos’ subdued vocals. Compared to the high-strung yelps of Mark Mothersbaugh or the geeky tremble of David Byrne, Frobos’ voice is decidedly deadpan, delivered in a semi-monotone as if he’s the calm center of a musical storm. At times it seems he views the music swirling around him as a surreal dream, and the only way to handle it is to stay cool and go with his band’s jagged flow. Frobos’ vocal chill is matched by his lyrics, which share Byrne’s knack for treating daily life like an alien puzzle. Many of Multi-task’s songs are about people meeting and relating, and Frobos often sounds perplexed that anyone ever manages to connect. During “Tuxedo Blues,” he begs a comrade to “speak out, say what you mean, without parting the sea”; in “Calling Direct,” his attempts to reach out are so frustrated that he decides he has to “stage a coup to get to you.” Eventually, in the skeptical “Date Night,” he questions the whole concept of shared experience: “When I’m looking are you seeing/Someone in a different light, another being?” All these laments fit music that’s aptly off-kilter, finding angles and divots where other bands might smooth things out. Many of those angles are the sum of Omni’s parts, as Frobos’ rubbery bass meshes with Frankie Broyles’ guitar playing and drumming (the group were between drummers when recording Multi-task, and have since enlisted Doug Bleichner of Warehouse in the role). But Broyles, a former member of Deerhunter, is often the star, slashing across the songs like a spark plug firing an engine. He’s particularly adept at chopping chords and chiming notes simultaneously, so his complex leads have a visceral thrust. On the herky-jerky “Choke,” his guitar sounds both threatening and joyous, while during the escalating “Supermoon,” he keeps his foot on the riff pedal while also weaving detailed lines. His synergy with Frobos comes to a head on closer “Type,” which displays the strengths of Omni in miniature: dodging momentum, confident swing, rough precision. But then miniatures are what this band does best, building small choices into an exhilarating whole." -Pitchfork
Trashcan 3
trashcan is an experimental five-piece from Atlanta, Georgia. With not much of paper trail on the band’s history, it doesn’t seem like the group has been together too long or at least since March of this year at least. The band has been doing a few shows with Connecticut lo-fi studs Furnsss in recent months, with a few more coming up later this summer. At the moment, “ello” is the only recorded output from the band. The raw sludgy track recalls early Sonic Youth with the added brashness and volatility. The band states on their Bandcamp they “got shit faced and made this“, all in one take. It’s unhinged improvisation is met with sneering harmonics, concise hooks, and propulsive rhythms, all making it feel quite visceral.
trashcan is an experimental five-piece from Atlanta, Georgia. With not much of paper trail on the band’s history, it doesn’t seem like the group has been together too long or at least since March of this year at least. The band has been doing a few shows with Connecticut lo-fi studs Furnsss in recent months, with a few more coming up later this summer. At the moment, “ello” is the only recorded output from the band. The raw sludgy track recalls early Sonic Youth with the added brashness and volatility. The band states on their Bandcamp they “got shit faced and made this“, all in one take. It’s unhinged improvisation is met with sneering harmonics, concise hooks, and propulsive rhythms, all making it feel quite visceral.
Small Reactions
Small Reactions play nerve pop. Their music has tinges of new wave and post punk; it’s often angular, sometimes surfy, and generally quick. They are a band of four guys who pull from various literary, geometric, and culinary influences in order to create and perform. They’ve played somewhere in the vicinity of 114 shows. With an average of 45 minutes on stage per show, they have amassed roughly 5, 130 minutes of playing music to an audience. They continue to add to those minutes, so this bio has to be updated often… with a calculator. Clinton, Scotty, Sam, and Sean, our respective singers and instrumentalists, never play anything the same way twice. They attempt to make shows more akin to movements than a simple collection of songs. Songs, in turn, maintain a sense of careful spontaneity. As ever present elements, levels, dynamics, voices, instrumentation, and sounds all shift and intertwine. Setlists, like the songs which comprise them, are, similarly, always different. Forever moving forward, they strive for perpetual motion. Scientists say it isn’t possible, but it is. Their concerts do, however, wrap up in a timely and orderly fashion.
Small Reactions play nerve pop. Their music has tinges of new wave and post punk; it’s often angular, sometimes surfy, and generally quick. They are a band of four guys who pull from various literary, geometric, and culinary influences in order to create and perform. They’ve played somewhere in the vicinity of 114 shows. With an average of 45 minutes on stage per show, they have amassed roughly 5, 130 minutes of playing music to an audience. They continue to add to those minutes, so this bio has to be updated often… with a calculator. Clinton, Scotty, Sam, and Sean, our respective singers and instrumentalists, never play anything the same way twice. They attempt to make shows more akin to movements than a simple collection of songs. Songs, in turn, maintain a sense of careful spontaneity. As ever present elements, levels, dynamics, voices, instrumentation, and sounds all shift and intertwine. Setlists, like the songs which comprise them, are, similarly, always different. Forever moving forward, they strive for perpetual motion. Scientists say it isn’t possible, but it is. Their concerts do, however, wrap up in a timely and orderly fashion.
Deeper
‘Auto-Pain’ is the Sophomore album from Deeper, a record that finds the band embracing open space, using synths to create shadows where bricks of guitars once would’ve blocked out the sun. The group – singer and guitarist Nic Gohl, guitarist Drew McBride, drummer Shiraz Bhatti, and bassist Kevin Fairbairn – were all graduates of Chicago’s rich DIY scene who came together around their love of Wire, Devo, Gang of Four, and Television.
While the new record is still within the Great Lakes post-punk tradition of their debut, the album isn’t as insular as its predecessor; it’s less interested in pile-driving and more willing to dwell in liminal spaces. Guitars enter the picture precisely, locked bass grooves propel things forward. Bhatti, who is half-Pakistani and half-Native American, embraced the drumming patterns he’d heard growing up at pow-wows, channeling the anxieties of his heritage into his playing and keeping the group grounded when they switch into all-out percussive attack. The result is an album both more nuanced and catchy.
‘Auto-Pain’ represents the constant wave of depression felt by many in everyday life. During the writing of the record, the band was forced to reckon with the loss of their former bandmate Mike Clawson. The album artwork features the now-demolished Prentice Women’s Hospital, capturing the band’s rounded-off brutalism, and the album title appears in Urdu, a nod to Bhatti’s Pakistani heritage. The record was recorded and mixed by Chicago scene luminary Dave Vettraino (Makaya McCraven, Dehd) and mastered by Greg Obis (Ne-Hi, Melkbelly).
‘Auto-Pain’ is the Sophomore album from Deeper, a record that finds the band embracing open space, using synths to create shadows where bricks of guitars once would’ve blocked out the sun. The group – singer and guitarist Nic Gohl, guitarist Drew McBride, drummer Shiraz Bhatti, and bassist Kevin Fairbairn – were all graduates of Chicago’s rich DIY scene who came together around their love of Wire, Devo, Gang of Four, and Television.
While the new record is still within the Great Lakes post-punk tradition of their debut, the album isn’t as insular as its predecessor; it’s less interested in pile-driving and more willing to dwell in liminal spaces. Guitars enter the picture precisely, locked bass grooves propel things forward. Bhatti, who is half-Pakistani and half-Native American, embraced the drumming patterns he’d heard growing up at pow-wows, channeling the anxieties of his heritage into his playing and keeping the group grounded when they switch into all-out percussive attack. The result is an album both more nuanced and catchy.
‘Auto-Pain’ represents the constant wave of depression felt by many in everyday life. During the writing of the record, the band was forced to reckon with the loss of their former bandmate Mike Clawson. The album artwork features the now-demolished Prentice Women’s Hospital, capturing the band’s rounded-off brutalism, and the album title appears in Urdu, a nod to Bhatti’s Pakistani heritage. The record was recorded and mixed by Chicago scene luminary Dave Vettraino (Makaya McCraven, Dehd) and mastered by Greg Obis (Ne-Hi, Melkbelly).