Americana Music Reviews

 

Marah
Float Away With the Friday Night Gods
Artemis Records

by David Pilot

I'm sitting here on a Sunday night with a cold drink listening to the last rock and roll band. How do I know they're the grand finale to the greatest opera of all time? Says so right there on their website, www.marah-usa.com. "The Last Rock 'n Roll Band." It's on the Internet, it must be true.

Marah (a Hebrew word, oddly enough - - but if you accept the postulation above, perhaps this serves as proof that Yahweh's into Fenders?) has decided to serve things up shaken AND stirred on their third foray into our living rooms, leaving their hometown of Philadelphia and its inimitable backdrop birthing ground of blue-collar workingman's rock and roll behind. Their first two discs cemented the band's reputation as a hardworking, hard rocking outfit that understood the nuances of all of rock's founding influences and paid homage to each quite well. Hell, four guys whose music's been called the "musical love child" of acts like Springsteen, Van Morrison and CCR, with some Stones and Counting Crows thrown in for seasoning, must have some clue what they're doing onstage. Their fans, then, were concerned, even stunned, to hear that the Bielanko brothers had split Philly for the renowned rock and roll surroundings of a Welsh cow pasture and were working with two newcomers, fellow Philly rockers Jamie Mahon (bass) and Jon Kois (drums) as their third studio effort began to take shape. Perhaps more shocking: Welsh producer Owen Morris, well-known for his dislike of American acts, was on board producing the emerging effort. Since Morris is associated with neo-Beatles acts like the sham band Oasis and also produced the Verve, fans' trepidation was justified. The rumor, though, was that Marah's favorite rocker Bruce Springsteen was involved with the project as well, so hope remained. And sure enough, the Boss appears on the title cut, lending background guitar and vocals to the rousing mix. Give you my left nut, though, if you can pick out his contributions - - this smacks of publicity stunt right out of the chute.

One thing about the band hasn't changed: the Bielankos (brothers Dave and Serge, the core of Marah since day one) are still prone to combinations of style and musical fusion that demand the occasional second glance. Too bad that here that fusion lacks direction - - sounds more like fission to these jaded ears. Take "Revolution," for example. The track leans heavily on a whammy bar intro that disappears into a ripping percussion track. Hendrix? Zep? Don't know, but when the vocal kicks in, the melody's a Tupac-grade sample pulled from Dion's library. "I'm a-walking/in the rain" . . . There's a yeoman-like effort to disguise the similarity, Bielanko's rough vocal chords not the least of the ruse, but those first few bars are the same. Then suddenly the vocal gets a bit breathy and angry, a la Axl Rose, while the lyric treads in Lennon territory:

So play your revolution
Just get on the bus
Play your revolution song

How many decades of rock and roll is that in thirty seconds? Whew. Lose your breath just keeping score if you're not careful.

"People Of the Underground," up next, goes straight for the X. When did rock take a left turn and wind up in a trance under "house music" in the dictionary? Never mind, don't tell me. I don't want to know.

So come on
Let's get high
People of the underground

Technically speaking, this is a proficient track throughout. Mahon's bass lays down a devil of a foundation, and provides the only thing resembling consistency as funk, house, rock and rave ambiance roll in waves across guitars and keyboards. A veritable potpourri of sounds, and a feel pretty much like the one sought in the lyric just above. Bet it sounds better if you're smashed, too.

It's not all a musical goulash, though. "Crying On an Airplane" provides a slow, even beautiful in places, ballad as respite from the mad alchemist storm of musical compilations before it. The imagery is clear and poignant, and has the requisite power hooks and harmony chorus vocal that made White Lion such a hit with the pretty girls back in the Reagan years.

"Leaving" is maybe the first, or only, real rocker on this disc. While the wall of sound explodes from the speakers and snarling six-strings do battle as they should when rock and roll's involved, producer Morris' value to the effort is clear. Bielanko's vocals come through clear and strong, balanced expertly as counterpoint to the rush. Without the board work, this track's a throwaway. With the touch caught here, it's an up-tempo rocker that grabs and doesn't let go.

Unfortunately, cuts like "Shame" bring back da funk, and the rocking yet inane "For All We Know We're Dreaming" gets in your ear like a termite and lives longer than a roach. Granted, the guitar work here is something Slash would like to lay claim to, but for all the beautiful agony of a screaming axe, lyrics like these simply cannot be forgiven:

For all we know we're dreaming
For all we know we're dreaming
For all we know we're dreaming
For all we know we're dreaming
For all we know we're dreaming
For all we know we're dreaming
For all we know we're dreaming
For all we know we're dreaming
For all we know we're dreaming
For all we know we're dreaming
For all we know we're dreaming
For all we know we're dreaming

Reckon maybe the sophomore jinx didn't really strike til the 9th track on the third disc? That's some brain freeze for the ages right there, boys and girls.

"Out In Style" doesn't get much better, and taken as metaphor the title for the disc's finale doesn't bode well for Marah's future. Once again the musical styles are varied and the musicianship is impeccable, but the piece as a whole doesn't take shape. Its shining moment? The last minute or so's chorus is a dead ringer for one of the great mindless rock and roll tracks ever, Warrant's "Loving In Stereo." Unfortunately there's no sweet cherry pie at the end of this rainbow.

Dave and Serge Bielanko still evidently have a great ear for the sounds and components that make rock and roll something magical. What they seem to have lost is a feel for the cohesiveness the disparate elements must find in order to stand out and be heard. If you're into drugs and party girls, this CD's a must-have. If, however, your idea of valuable Brit-rock ended when the Stones quit being creative, this is a trip you don't want to take. Maybe for the kids of the 21st century Marah's the first rock and roll band. But if the fellas insist on continuing to call themselves the last, well, maybe we should all chip in and send 'em a Drive By Truckers CD.

Contact David Pilot at: tailgunner-at-rockzilla.net

 
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