Big Boots EP pays tribute to Mauldin
B+ Big Boots Big Boots Max Recordings
Little Rock alt-rock band Big Boots was formed in 2007 by Mason Mauldin, Luke Hunsicker, Jack Lloyd and Mike Motley from the ashes of Sugar & The Raw. The band called it a day in 2010, when it was whittled down to a trio with Mauldin, Motley and Trevor Ware.
Big Boots has put together from its surviving recordings this six-song EP to honor lead singer Mauldin who, along with three passengers, was killed when the plane he was piloting crashed on Jan. 24, 2013, in Monroe, La. He would have turned 36 last month.
Starting with the jangly “Won’t Stop,” the collection showcases Big Boots’ catchy, guitar-based power pop that operates along the same lines as ’90s heroes Gin Blossoms and Buffalo Tom.
The foreboding “Desert Eagle” rides a hypnotic groove toward its rewarding chorus; “Only You” starts with a spare guitar before picking up speed and locking into a solid, driving pace. “Silver Trees” is another slow-burner that builds to a climactic finish.
The closing track, “Taqueria,” is perhaps the most powerful. Maudlin’s voice is almost plaintive over acoustic guitar early on before the rest of the band kicks in and lifts the song into the stratosphere, especially as the guitars start to crunch at the end. Stick around past the fade, too, because there’s this sweet little spacey, bubbly effect that ends the EP perfectly.
A tip of the chapeau to the remaining Big Boots members for this fine tribute to Mauldin.
Hot tracks: “Taqueria,” “Won’t Stop” — SEAN CLANCY Arkansas Democrat-Gazette
A- Bill Carter Bill Carter Forty Below
Keeping it simple can be pretty risky. Arrangements, studio techniques and production can cast a veil that hides composition and performance weaknesses.
Bill Carter, a singer-songwriter from Austin, Texas, strips his songs to the bone. He keeps it simple. On his 10th album, he does it all himself — plays the instruments, sings all the vocals and handles production on his self-titled recording. It pays off big time. One can listen to just about any song on this collection of rootsy folk, country and blues and easily imagine how good it would sound with more instrumentation, another voice or two and a lusher production.
Truthfully, his songs don’t need any of that. Carter makes simple sound magnificent. Keeping it simple lays bare the sturdiness and poetic intelligence of his songwriting, the emotional depth of his singing and superb guitar work.
Take his song “Crossfire,” which was covered by Stevie Ray Vaughan. Carter’s haunting, worn voice sounds battered by life’s experiences.
Even better is “Anything Made of Paper,” a moving reworking of his tribute to Damien Echols of the West Memphis 3. Carter’s song of love, faith and abiding in a prison environment is powerful and moving. Blues-rock fans will enjoy “Eva Bible,” while ballads such as “Paris” can touch the listener’s heart.
A number of artists have recorded Carter’s songs, including Vaughan, the Fabulous Thunderbirds, Ruth Brown, Robert Palmer and Waylon Jennings. But on this beautiful, absorbing album, Carter proves that presenting his songs his way is even better.
Hot tracks: “Anything Made of Paper,” “Crossfire,” the bluesy “Jacksboro Hiway” “Paris” — ELLIS WIDNER Arkansas Democrat-Gazette
B LCD Soundsystem American Dream Columbia
Skepticism, if not downright cynicism, precedes LCD Soundsystem’s first album since 2010.
American Dream doubles down emotionally, with a slower but more moving array of songs that gain cumulative power. The album is about breakups with youth, the past and the heroes and villains that populated it. On the first LCD album, James Murphy, now 47, fretted about “losing my edge.” He has never shied from addressing the notion that the best of him is slipping away as years roll past.
In the opening “Oh, Baby,” Murphy repurposes Suicide tracks such as “Dream Baby Dream” into a noir-ish electro-doo-wop that is eventually swallowed up by a cocoon of keyboards.
The nine-minute “How Do You Sleep?” cops the title of John Lennon’s ode to betrayal; Murphy turns it into a haunted dreamscape, his voice distant and receding against the thunder of tribal drums.
“Change Yr. Mind,” with its skronky guitar, comments on the cranky narrator’s encroaching feelings of irrelevance. The title track, a slow-motion waterfall, cycles through a series of temporary relationships, a futile attempt to stave off mortality.
Though Murphy can sometimes come across as a spoiled upper-middle-class rock star, his affection for his musical guides is real. He peppers the album with nods to Suicide’s Alan Vega, Lou Reed and Leonard Cohen, all of whom died while LCD was away. The closing “Black Screen” is essentially a 12-minute goodbye to his friend and greatest influence, David Bowie.
Hot tracks: “Black Screen,” “How Do You Sleep,” “Change Yr. Mind” — GREG KOT Chicago Tribune (TNS)