This is not a bad thing; it’s a genre this reviewer in particular is fond of. Thus, it should come as no surprise that I found Minutes’ new album to be a brisk, delightful little burst of noise. The members (Chafe Hensley, Mark Larmee, Ryan Nelson, and Isaac Turner respectively) are self-described as all “solidly ‘in their 30s” and it shows charmingly, both in their musical references (Superchunk, Mudhoney, Mission of Burma, Archers of Loaf) and the laid-back confidence in their approach. The trick is that is it’s both a timeless record and a bit of a snotty anachronism. More than a loving homage, it is a spirited recreation of the 90s DIY post-punk/grunge/guitar rock and culture that the band members grew up with.
The superfuzz bigmuff wall of guitars, those technically non-technical licks, the patented “loud-quiet” dynamics, the terseness of the songwriting (not one song cracks the three minute mark, save for the final track “Shakespeare’s Money Tree,” which might be considered a jammy relative to what precedes it). All of these traits are on display in the opening track “Sheriff of Morlock County,” and the rest of the album is permutations. Particularly rousing is “Peacetime;” a really big, exuberant, Dismemberment Plan-style sing-along. Other standouts are the twitchy “Smug” and the doom-blues of “Misforgotten.”
As with the tunes of many of their heroes, the lyrics on the record are deemphasized and often of questionable meaning: most songs open with more than a minute of careening guitars before anyone sings a note. This willing obfuscation, however, thankfully takes a backseat on the song “Soldier Course of Record Spines” and we are treated to the band’s rallying cry: “I’m the curse of my belongings / a soldier course of record spines / collected dust on needles / the whirling sounds of surface noise.” They go on to describe clutters of wires, telephone poles adorned with countless staples from posters hung for shows years gone and you realize this is a band of loyalists who haven’t given up the faith.
The album in collection dispatches from an analog world of vinyl and endlessly tangled quarter-inch cables. It is definitely a lo-fi, low rent affair, delightfully so. Between every song, you can hear the tape hiss, the warmth of the room sound, amps buzzing before the music kicks in. It would have easily fit snuggly alongside Sub Pop’s early 90s releases, which even to the most jaded devotee of irony and modernism would have to concede is quite a feat.
You can download Minutes’ self-titled album at http://minutes.bandcamp.com/. This reviewer would recommend, however, pre-ordering the album on vinyl, which is most obviously the definitive way to enjoy the record.
