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| REVIEWS |
Mando
Diao
Bring 'em in
(Mute)
Market saturation is a terrible thing. It is the multi-headed
harbinger of music’s greatest foes; monotony and sameness.
It spews forward in endless amounts, permeating our living rooms,
our car stereos and our toned-into-repetition minds with alarming
effectiveness, diluting our most wicked of senses. Our fabled
music industry has deftly mastered the art of flooding; turning
morsels of decent ideas into tsunamis of unexceptional trivia.
If these waves were not damaging enough to our fragile landscapes,
then the one-hand-in-our-wallets-fake-wink-of-the-eye routine
they pull is about as insulting as our often naïve commercial
drive to buy into this junk. It is unfortunate, this market
saturation thing, because Mando Diao will ultimately suffer
from inherent retro-rock backlash. It is an unfair predicament
to be in because these fun packed Swedes (yes, Sweden –
can’t escape from it can they?) have written a record
filled with some of the finest beat influenced rock jangles
this side of the 50’s and 60’s.
Bring Em In is sharp musings of said time period, one
that merely seems to have been displaced in our chronological
continuum. Unlike many of their current counterparts who update
bygone sounds with modern narrative, chic jive and pretentious
overtones; Mando Diao cavorts in gifted historical association.
They are a cosmic rekindling of The Who with graceful sprinklings
of bluesy guitars and an uncaring sense of freedom that remains
through the eras. It’s the sort of underlying rhythmic
sentiment that reflects in the ‘My Generations’
of this world – ultimately unending and timeless.
“Sheepdog” is the frontrunner, equipped with paralyzing
percussion punching and the strong pull from the frenzied bass
and guitar partnership that only compliments the track’s
vocal competence. It evokes the same high-energy as an “I
Can’t Explain”, a wide-eyed-grab-you-by-the-throat
awakening. It forms an exciting one-two punch with “Sweet
Ride”, the album’s ultimate highway hotrod soundtrack;
a roaring compositional flurry with just a tad of harmonic love
suited best for that blistering open road wind in your hair.
Mando Diao are simply fantastic in these depictions of moments.
Take the organ soaked “Mr. Moon” as an example.
Its jaded nature and solemn approach is rich in its passing
affection, the quiet lonesome spiral caught by the words, “I
wanna love you but I’m growing old / Ten little soldiers
screaming in my soul / The day is using up its final breath
/ I’ve never been so sure”. The track is in distinct
contrast to “The Band”, a spirited homage to pulsing
beat rock; with its organ driven 50’s fueled guitar flustering
and wailing vocal harmonies, it screams wild fun-filled nights
of letting go.
There is a seamless transition between these more fussy rock
anecdotes and those with an abundance more blues and soul. While
they certainly do pay tribute, the album comes off not as some
hackneyed, indiscernible paean; but each track an accomplishment
in its own. “Motown Blood” oozes dirty swamp boogie
pizzazz with its funkdooby bass thumping and blues groove, the
likes of which B.B King would praise, and it doesn’t feel
merely content at being so – influenced, but not dependent.
This seamlessness is quite the strength, you may bounce around
from mop-top British rock n’ roll but when you hit the
hot heat of America’s south, it’s an incredibly
accepting welcome. Perhaps the album’s lone weakness lies
in the closing “Lauren’s Cathedral”, the obligatory
southern-tinged ballad that feels like the slow setting sun.
While certainly less taking than the previous numbers, it manages
to crawl into some salvation, a fitting reflective dissolve
of sorts.
Oh woe to our music industry for trying to milk too much of
a good thing; if it weren’t for the recent deluge of decent
to good rock bands that have more than satiated a certain licentious
craving for the rock n’ roll zenith, Mando Diao would
be on their way to this unsurpassed apex – ultimately
sharing the same podium with those sanctified. Nonetheless,
those who are unfazed by the wealth of choice will see that
Bring Em In is blessed with the same aura of excitement
that 1965's My Generation had, an exhilaration felt
while spinning the record for the very first time, an undying
importance that no amount of waterlog can sink.
Reviewed by
Billy Maulana
August 29th, 2003 |
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