Obits – I Blame You
It goes something like this: Pitchfork –> Drive Like Jehu –> Hot Snakes –> Obits. So has been the career trajectory of Eric “Rick” Froberg aka Rick Fork aka Rick Farr. For the benefit of full disclosure, I listened to my copies of the Pitchfork, Jehu and Hot Snakes records ad nauseum, so there wasn’t much doubt in my mind that Obits would garner my affection. But when the needle touched that sweet, sweet vinyl for the first time, I was a little surprised by what happened. I was immediately enamoured of this record. This is surprising, because all of Froberg’s previous efforts had taken sometime for me to fully appreciate, even the seminal “Yank Crime” which is one of my all-time favorite albums. But this record stood in stark contrast to that precident.
Understanding the intracicies of Drive Like Jehu’s 8+ minute epic songs takes repeated listening to fully comprehend (e.g. Luau, a desert island Top 5 track, took countless listens to fall in love with). Hot Snakes records sometimes came across like a bludgeoning, but again, repeated listenings allowed the listener to be braced for what was instore, so they could discover all of what the band was after.
So then how is Obits different? They reigned in the feedback and dissonance of Drive Like Jehu’s sound, and took their foot off the gas a little from the Hot Snakes records. “I Blame You” ends up as a well thought out rock record. They have more obviously incorporated classic-rock, rockabilly and surf-rock. But most notably, Obits know when to punch it, cranking up the percussion or dropping in manic riffs, buth they also know when to pull back and let the melody do the work. “I Blame You” is not as sonically suffocating as anything Froberg has done previously – the production is a little lighter giving the listener more breathing room, and making the record much easier to understand from the first listen. The songs are not the sprawling epics that Jehu created, but they offer more dimension than Hot Snakes blistering punk flash-fiction. Froberg’s voclas seem more comfortable and less frantic.
It’s been 23 years since he and John Reis formed Pitchfork, and he’s wearing the maturity and lesson’s learned well. There is a hardly a throw away track on the record (the only possible exception being the insturmental title track), although some of the songs could be a little streamlined; however the pacing of the record is flawless making it an efortless listen and leaving the record wanting more.
MP3: Obits – Light Sweet Crude
MP3: Obits – Run
No Comments Yet