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On Pardon Me, however, what thin subtlety can possibly exist in these styles is swallowed up by a more forceful, traditional, and far less fun approach. Lead singer/drummer Erica Barton’s wail is often curls into a whine, and the majority of the songs on Pardon Me are brash and excessive enough to call to mind the overindulgence of The Donnas. To find a contrast between their best and worst moments, look no further than the first two songs on the album. The first track shares the album’s name, and begins with singer number two of the band, Baldomero Valdez III intoning, in a creepy, very meta- moment, “Hide your children/ Lock your doors/ The Faceless Werewolves/ want more.” The bombast continues, with Valdez III and Barton competing to out-snarl the other. Track two, however, a much more listenable track with a similarly silly name, “Abracadabra,” is a vast improvement. Instead of unearned gusto, the best parts of this band – the fact that they sound huge, always, have the power of three strong vocalists, and can flirt with different styles – are manifest even through the squall of guitar solos. With track three, “Couldn’t Believe it Blues,” we’re back to overblown, and the rest of the record is a frustrating push-pull between glamour and gaudy glitz. When they scale back and let loose, the Werewolves are something to behold. It’s too bad there’s less of that on this more, more, more record.
Austinist Capsule Reviews: Faceless Werewolves, Ezra Furman and the Harpoons
Hard rock thrives on excess. The larger the stadium, the bigger the hair, the more outrageous the offstage antics, the longer the extension of the reunion tour, the louder the guitars, the more flames that shoot out of Gene Simmons’ ass, the better. Even AC/DC, bare-boned and minimal compared to most of their rockin’ brethren, have a singer with a voice so freakishly unreal and guttural that it’s probably painful just in conversation. Like their antecedents, swagger, brash lyrics and big riffs course through The Faceless Werewolves’ latest mouthful of an album: Pardon Me, Are Those Your Claws on My Back? You may not have pinned The Faceless Werewolves as hard rock torchbearers, and as their fantastic song “My Weakness” attests, their greatest strength was found in blurring the lines between heavier stuff, punk, and garage rock.
Minty Fresh records out of Chicago is known signing artists who trade in light and breezy pop music, which at its best (The Cardigans, Husky Rescue) is subtly divine, while the worst (later Bettie Serveert, The Poems) calls to mind that dreaded, death’s head of a classification: adult contemporary. The last few years have seen the label struggling to walk that line, occasionally signing the odd exception (France’s dance-rock band Prototypes, for one). And like Prototypes, Ezra Furman and the Harpoons stick out in the Minty Fresh catalog like a floating finger in a cup of Wendy’s chili. Furman and his Harpoons released one hell of an explosive debut in Banging Down the Doors, a steady mix of cerebral folk-punk that shows great promise. If the album does have a crutch, it’s that common complaint about new bands sounding too much like their influences. Furman’s arresting, warped vocals swing very close to Gordon Gano’s of the Violent Femmes, opener “Mother’s Day” like so many folk songs threatens to turn into “Like a Rolling Stone,” and the gasket-blowing numbers rumble along like Neutral Milk Hotel’s patented, indie dance-party ready “Holland, 1945.” Still, a few listens in and the Gano and Dylan and Mangum slide off as the songs become more familiar. Sad, weird, and quirky, the record starts off with a snare shuffle and Furman welcoming us with, “Hello! This song is called “Mother’s Day,” and it’s about a whore I knew in Chicago. Here it goes! Goes! One two three four!” Acoustic guitar, subtle backing arrangements and Furman’s not-so-subtle (but beautiful) warble dominate the record. The lyrical theme of choice is the semi-tragic female figure, like the whore of “Mother’s Day.” Even God is re-imagined as a reclusive matriarch on “God is a Middle-Aged Woman.” It’s whimsical to a fault, maybe, but strong songwriting and expert production courtesy of Brian Deck (who has worked with Modest Mouse and Iron and Wine) make this record one to which you’ll want to return.
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