THE PASSIONISTAS God’s Boat
(2007: New and Used Records)
Some of the best rocknroll could be credited to people that wouldn't be considered "musicians" in any traditional sense. The Velvet Underground, Richard Hell, and The Modern Lovers all exceeded years ago, not despite any lack of musicianship (and some of them were trained musicians), but because they said “To hell with all of that" and instead tried to capture the essence of cathartic abandon.
San Francisco's The Passionistas seem to be banking on the same principles on their 2007 full-length, God's Boat. Stray notes jump out of the speakers, guitars are strummed very hard, and strangled shouts are most humanly unpredictable. The album bears a sense of classic punk purity and eerie similarites to certain pre- and post-punk records insofar as there are few sonic indications that this record was made anytime after 1978 (save for a little drum machine/sampler action here and there, and a song devoted to Y2K). Which I'm sure is JUST FINE with The Passionistas.
Engineered by local songwriter and tape enthusiast Kelly Stoltz, the recording techniques are distinctive. This is a record that was recorded on analog tape with the same kind of microphones that would have been used in the seventies. To call the production "lo-fi" would be a disservice; it's real-fi, the details of voice cracks and naked guitars are crystal-clear. The drums sound right out of a Modern Lovers or Voidoids record, which is a very good thing. Let's just get this word out of the way: authentic.
The title track is a great one. It opens the record with grand, sweeping power chords and signature yelps, then jumps into a staccato robot skuffle reminiscent of early B-52s and Devo, if only for a few brief moments. It's definitely one of the finer displays of "pure" rocknroll that you can find on this record, along with the ass-shaking "So Rock ‘n’ Roll," the chugging "Silver Spurs," and the shriek-spazzy "Fucking Cold."
Third track in we are given "Going Gay," whose willfully silly lyrics and know-it-by-the-second-chorus accessibility could almost file it into novelty-song territory. Thankfully, we are spared any predictable anecdotal narrative, and the "Going Gay" chorus ends up being a total non sequitur, which keeps the song more about the rocknroll at hand. As in many of their songs, The Passionistas gingerly sprinkle the word "motherfuckin'" throughout, like punctuation. This song is borderline disposable, as its adolescent halfassedness delivers little payoff, save for an obliviously mangled "guitar solo" mid-way that sounds like someone attempting a guitar solo for the first time (and that's a very cool moment to hear).
There are plenty of more straightforward, mid-tempo rock songs: "The Socialists," "Hell Hath No Fury," "Wild West," and "Teenage Jesus," which on their own merits are fine songs, but when presented all in a row (and all on the B side) they contribute to the album feeling slightly redundant, at least on a musical level. Fifteen tracks long, the album as a whole might have been a little stronger with the omission of a couple of these. Not to dismiss them entirely – the lyrics are charmingly absurd, and The Passionistas never lose their grasp of the quirks that got you interested in the first place. Also, with these songs especially, you can access their stream of consciousness and realize how little The Passionistas are editing themselves, which is, again, part of their raw aesthetic.
Still, some of the album's most interesting moments come with the occasional sound-experimentation: "Ta Ta Ta Ta" has a bizarre percussive instrument underneath (and off-the-cuff guitar skronks), "American Whale" is a meditative piece with the best violin squealing you've heard since The Velvet Underground's "Black Angel's Death Song", "The Socialists" has a hilariously bizarre slide guitar solo, and "Miss Lonelyhearts" ends the album with a demented group singalong reminiscent of young Bryan Ferrys or Brian Enos, (though it’s also firmly rooted in the band's own world of weirdness).
Perhaps future releases by The Passionistas will see more of this kind of kitchen sink approach. Hopefully, what we won't hear in the future is any compromise in their aesthetic; easily one of the most compelling elements of this band is their fun absurdity and their earnest take on rocknroll. There's no denying what's in their record collection, and there's nothing wrong with that; The Passionistas have listened to great music, and they have made a unique record that sincerely captures the best moments of the music they doubtlessly love. It's hard to find a real rock record with this much spirit in any year or in any decade, let alone 2007.
San Francisco's The Passionistas seem to be banking on the same principles on their 2007 full-length, God's Boat. Stray notes jump out of the speakers, guitars are strummed very hard, and strangled shouts are most humanly unpredictable. The album bears a sense of classic punk purity and eerie similarites to certain pre- and post-punk records insofar as there are few sonic indications that this record was made anytime after 1978 (save for a little drum machine/sampler action here and there, and a song devoted to Y2K). Which I'm sure is JUST FINE with The Passionistas.
There are plenty of more straightforward, mid-tempo rock songs: "The Socialists," "Hell Hath No Fury," "Wild West," and "Teenage Jesus," which on their own merits are fine songs, but when presented all in a row (and all on the B side) they contribute to the album feeling slightly redundant, at least on a musical level. Fifteen tracks long, the album as a whole might have been a little stronger with the omission of a couple of these. Not to dismiss them entirely – the lyrics are charmingly absurd, and The Passionistas never lose their grasp of the quirks that got you interested in the first place. Also, with these songs especially, you can access their stream of consciousness and realize how little The Passionistas are editing themselves, which is, again, part of their raw aesthetic.