The People’s Temple – s/t 7” EP (Hozac)
First track follows a popular circa 2008-to-present recipe that calls for one ultra-simple garage-revival song template to be buried under suffocating, disorienting amounts of reverb. Save plenty for the vocals, and if any extra FX are sitting about unused, plug those orphans into the daisy-chain. Deception is thusly served, and it works on two levels: first, the thick buzz and rapid-fire noise-bounce covers up the lack of songwriting skill for unseasoned listeners (target audience), and if it works really well, all of that vapid, emotionless echo-skree will actually DISTRACT the listener enough so that they never notice the band’s inability to write its way out of the unlocked exit doors. Second level: It matters none whether the band/entity uses a tableful of effects boxes or one Line 6 rack-mounted Pod, your sub-Gories amateur-hour endeavor isn’t automatically qualified for the psychedelic mind-fuck sweepstakes just because it’s carrying around 350 lbs. of effects. If a listener alleges that he or she “got lost” in a song like “Make You Understand,” it’s a lie, or that listener doesn’t understand the meaning behind those words. It is impossible to get lost in a sound or a song’s sound when the sound is done for the sake of itself, or for the sake of meeting the nebulous guidelines required by a mini-trend gasping its last breaths.
Convinced that the journey was headed into predictable waters, I had to check the sleeve in case I’d somehow confused a compilation with a proper 7” EP by a single band/entity. “Machine” is a sterling success in the context of understated quasi-instrumentals (the vocals are nonsensical murmurings designed to add texture) and recalls the beautiful, fully-formed but tiny passages of song glue that held together ‘90s masterpieces like TFUL282’s Mother of All Saints or Fly Ashtray’s Clumps Takes a Ride (shortsighted critics always disregarded these perfect little pop gems as “filler”). It’s got a Flying Nun feel to it, too, though that should come as no surprise in this era of the tardy name-drop. At the end of the day, however, “Machine” is, as the lazy critic once penned, “worth the price of admission.”
Side 2 is taken up by the maddeningly self-referential “Jim Jones,” a standard issue Lou Reed/Velvets rehash done with the same process used in the creation of the opening track. Lastly, when a naming scheme uses references to the Reverend Jim Jones, it speaks volumes about the pop-cultural illiteracy afflicting the minds responsible. (http://www.hozacrecords.com)
(Andrew Earles)
