The Blacks ­ "Just Like Home" Bloodshot Records ­ BS 063

By William Michael Smith

	The Blacks are one of Chicago's most heavily hyped indie bands. Like a number of their label mates at Chicago's Bloodshot Records, they play a mix of musical sounds that is all over the place, out on the edge, and even over the edge at times. They come at their music from odd and unusual angles and they fill it with processed effects and echoed voices that give much of it a subterranean quality. There is a twisted campy kitschiness at times, at other times a greasy cabaret sexual slinkiness, all mixed into a rock soup that contains elements of thrash, punk, blues and roots. What emerges is an artsy, absolutely genreless production that will have wide appeal to Gen X'ers and to listeners who like out-of-the-ordinary, off-center, bravely experimental productions. The Blacks overcome the limitations of being a three-piece ensemble by playing a lot of instruments. Singer/guitarist Danny Black also plays banjo, trumpet, lap steel, organ, and saw on the album, while classically trained bassist Gina Black (no relation) sings and plays upright bass, acoustic guitar, piano and organ. Only drummer James Emmenegger sticks strictly to his musical trade. To further overcome the limitations of a three-piece set up, they make free use of effects and processors to interject aurally catchy changes of sonic aesthetics within songs with Rundgrenesque skill and ingenuity, coming up with an album production that is more like a series of connected sketches than of individual songs. Like on many experimental projects, the artists seem to be as in love with their switches and pedals and buttons as they are with their instruments. While some of the playing is notable, particularly Danny Black's lubricated, back alley trumpeting, this is not an album that is about hot licks, it is an album that concerns itself with layering of sound textures and rhythms and with the overall feel, tone and suggested impressions associated with the tunes, not with virtuoso individual instrumental prowess. The song constructions do allow plenty of space and opportunity for Ms. Black to make use of her classical bass training, as she often changes the dynamics by picking up a bow or by taking the lead. One of the highlights of the album is the hard-rocking cover of Tom Waites/Kathleen Brennan's 'Goin' Out West.' There is a sinister L.A. lowlife decadence that surrounds the performance that beautifully demonstrates the musical sensibilities of The Blacks. With Gina taking the lead vocal on this male narrator number (" I don't need no makeup/ I got real scars/ I look good without my shirt on"), there is a delicious gender-crossing carnality that would be completely at home in a European red-light district. Danny Black's guitar has a twangy edge that works well when set off by a music-for-the-sultan's-harem organ track. This is music for the late night Sunset Strip trans-sexual set. Emmenegger's drumming and Gina Black's bass give the track a pagan fertility dance rhythm. This is absolutely primo material. Another cut that really stands out is the swinging, boozy 'Foggy Minded Breakdown.' Danny Black leads the ensemble with a minstrelsy banjo but it is his overdubbed red hot, sleazy trumpeting that makes this paean to deviance cut a real grabber. She's all alone in her skin Needs a bigger place to be crowded in All she really wants is a licking Came out the same way she went in The beauty of my life is it's sickening The beauty of my life is on the skids What a sweet thing to be wicked Remember what it's like when you were a kid And my knees are so sore And I'm begging for more A beating for pleasure Now I'm a lively corpse But the most engaging and easily accessible number on "Just Like Home" is 'Call,' a swinging mid-tempo rocker with a wonderfully juicy cabaret voice vocal by Ms. Black. And Mr. Black again plays some scintillating and sensual New-Orleans-after-dark trumpet solos that give the sexually loaded lyric an added carnal overtone. Up on the 6th floor She's counting her change But once they knew her She's not so strange I will take you away from it all Once you call In the midst of all this carnality and over-the-line, who's-to-say-what-normal-is reality, The Blacks are able to shift their musical gears and on 'How He Cried,' they play a lilting faux alt-country style number punctuated with some very delicate lap steel. But as with any Black's number, all is not as the first impression seems as Mr. Black breaks up the alt-country feel with some raunchy distorted guitar licks that should seem out of place but do not. There is no point in trying to classify and simplify the music The Blacks present on "Just Like Home" any more than there is any sense in describing a cake as flour-sugar-baking soda-salt-butter-oil-chocolate. The individual ingredients are all there and occasionally recognizable, but the end product is multi-layered confection with lots of icing and sugar sparkles on top. And The Blacks have thrown a generous cupful of rum into the mix just for the hell of it. Anyway, it's not a question of liking flour or sugar or baking soda or the other ingredients in the cake in their individual states. You either like chocolate cake or you don't. Cut a slice of The Blacks' "Just Like Home." It's not a cake you may easily recognize, but try it anyway. Once you taste the subtlety contained in the mix, you may find yourself asking for a second helping. * Liven up your musical life with a hot, greasy slice of The Blacks at www.theblacks.net or at www.bloodshotrecords.com. Contact William Michael Smith at: wms-at-rockzilla.net

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