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New Times LA
The New Year
Newness Ends (Touch & Go)
By Franklin Bruno
If ever a rock band named itself appropriately, it was Bedhead. Between 1993 and 1998, the Austin quartet, led by brothers Matt and Bubba Kadane, trudged through three albums chock-full of somnambulant tempos, geologically gradual dynamic shifts, and low-affect vocals and lyrics. Despite the occasional cowlick of countryish lead guitar, their work stands (with that of Codiene and early Low) as the aural equivalent of a narcoleptic fit. Rigorous to a fault about recording live in the studio, Bedhead were ascetic, virtuous, and moderately overrated by a mid-'90s underground audience that interpreted their sloth as depth and their diffidence as a radical negation of post-Nirvana showbiz-as-usual.
By contrast, the New Year, the Kadanes' return to the living, might as well be a speed-metal band. Opening with two songs set in jarring 5/4 time and including one ("Carne Levare") that's a race to the finish line by anybody's standards, Newness Ends replaces stasis with motion and fatalism with force. Much of the credit goes to drummer Chris Brokaw, who simply blows predecessor Trini Martinez out of the water. (Sometime Bedheader Mike Donofrio rounds out the group on bass.) Brokaw, more often heard guitar-slinging with Come and Steve Wynn, is an asset throughout -- never busy or showy, but often technically interesting (if you listen for such things). He makes tricky time signatures sound natural ("Half a Day" comes off more Calexico than Brubeck) and keeps "A Simple Life," the slowest number here, from stalling with a few meaty snare thwacks. In the foreground, Matt Kadane deigns to strum rather than pluck on most cuts, while his brother doesn't so much solo as ornament the songs' instrumental sections with well-chosen variants on the vocal melodies.
Of course, faster music isn't necessarily better music -- though it does take less time to listen to. Brokaw and bpm aside, this batch of songs is more emotionally direct (not to mention better crafted) than the bulk of Bedhead's efforts. Matt Kadane's favored themes -- insomnia, forgiveness, aging -- aren't exactly cheerful ones, but the details are often vivid, even witty. "Great Expectations" moves from adolescent optimism ("My skin was improving/On my face and on my back") to all-too-adult self-doubt ("As I get older...will disappointment be even worse?") in under three minutes, while "Alter Ego" offers "gardening, the priesthood, and sanity" as "acceptable reactions to tragedy." Kadane's vocal style is typically understated in the indie-approved manner, but he seems to know which songs are his best. On the graceful "One Plus One Minus One Equals One," his whisper is mixed over the band so that you can hear every word (and breath), while the title track, a distortion-fueled breakup waltz, features a rising hook that he treats like a singer rather than a sleepwalker (or talker): "You can't see that I won't be that way for you again." The way the buoyant melody trumps the glum sentiment may be the most satisfying single moment on Newness Ends, but the rest isn't far behind.
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