New Music From Fred Thomas, Moon Revenge
Fred Thomas
Aftering
(Polyvinyl)
In Laurie Anderson’s track “A Story About a Story,” she had an interesting observation about memories when recalling a difficult hospital stay from her childhood—when telling stories, we tend to clean things up in order to get to the point; in the process, details are lost, and “you forget it more.”
Fred Thomas has been in a million bands, including Flashpapr, City Center, Failed Flowers and his best known one, the nostalgic pop ensemble Saturday Looks Good to Me, and each band has a million stories.
With Thomas’ 2015 solo album All Are Saved, it seemed like he entered a new era in his career—he never forgot his past, or his influences, but all these little bits catalyzed into a style that boldly shouted out, “This is a Fred Thomas album” rather than vaguely evoking one of his musical heroes.
The title of Thomas’ new solo album, Aftering, suggests memories and reflection, and if cementing memories into stories means losing details, then you might not realize it, going by Thomas’ gushing, wordy and sometimes exhilarating songs. These are vivid recollections, oozing with struggles, finding compelling glimpses in a glorious mess of events, often somber, from an older and wiser mind.
Beginning with ambient tones, the album jumps into a pop-rock vibe with the fuzzed-out guitars of “Alcohol Poisoning” and the upbeat, bouncy “Altar,” but the album’s emotional centerpiece is the 8-minute “House Show, Later December.”
In it, Thomas describes a scene familiar to those in the musical underground: “Three noise acts, mixer feedback, busted 4-tracks, clusters of cables on card tables, iPod DJ standing in the corner.”
He recalls being 23 years old, on tour in the band Lovesick, and then he fast-forwards: “Seventeen years later, I’m still in the same jail. I’m still sending out these cassette tapes in the mail.”
Here’s the album’s musical turning point, which then conveys a gentle pensive tone using strings and pizzicato notes on “Mother, Daughter, Pharmaprix” or an undertow of pianos and electronics on “Slow Waves.”
The melancholic atmosphere is starkly apparent with lyrics like “Bad days are happening now” on “Good Times Are Gone Again,” but who’s to say that Aftering isn’t Thomas’ own turning point—especially considering it’s quite possibly his finest, most moving solo album so far; after all, on “Alcohol Poisoning,” Thomas sings, “In your head, there is a voice repeating, ‘I’m never doing this again.’”
Moon Revenge
Phrases That Remain
(moonrevenge.bandcamp.com)
This writer remembers listening to Belle and Sebastian’s If You’re Feeling Sinister soon after it came out and thinking, “Well, that was okay.” It took a few more listens before he realized just what an absolutely brilliant pop album it was, on several levels, and he was shocked, frankly, that he didn’t recognize that earlier.
A similar thing happened with Secret Cities’ severely underappreciated and overlooked third album Walk Me Home from 2014, where this writer went from thinking, “Well, this is nice” to “Oh my god, I am completely addicted to this album” after a few listens.
Marie Parker was behind many of that album’s finest moments—including the infectious slice of pop perfection “Bad Trip”—and she has now stepped out with her own project, Moon Revenge.
On Moon Revenge’s debut album Phrases That Remain—self-released on vinyl and as digital downloads—the songs are closest in spirit to certain Secret Cities tracks such as “Thumbs” and “The Cellar,” where an earnest mood—threatening to become heavy, but never going too far—is favored over breeziness while residing in a realm with a loose definition of pop.
Parker is joined by violinist Emily Kim Goldsmith plus Secret Cities bandmates Alex Abnos and Charlie Gokey, and Parker’s primary instrument is the piano, which is perfect for conveying a complicated spirit that transmutes between major and minor keys.
Throughout the album, there are numerous dramatic flairs—a military drum rhythm on “Alone at the World’s End,” a Spanish habanera rhythm/melody on “The Spider Thread”—and even a few playful time-signature disruptions with the waltz-time “Winter’s Breath” and a 7/4 sequence in “The Notes,” driven by cello/violin counterpoint and propulsive drums.
Possibly the most satisfying sequence on Phrases That Remain is “Radiant Color”—marked with vibrant, fluid melodies and Parker’s gently gliding torch-song vocals—followed by the intense dream song “Clock” that barrels down with bombastic drums and distorted chords.
Running through ten tracks in 36 minutes, the album is perhaps a victim of its own ambition; this writer can’t help but think that each track could stand to breathe on its own to be fully appreciated, and it feels like a collection of short stories rather than a novel.
This makes sense, considering the tracks tend to follow a certain structure, with a build-up, dramatic release, then resolution. Parker reveals an uncommon pop sensibility, where melodies slither in and stick with you, rather than going for instant gratification, and an appreciation becomes deeper with every listen.