> July 4, 2002 > Arts > Disc Reviews

IO
THE WILLOW SNAG ***
Hope/Hard Travelin'

When you get down to it, most of today's hardcore music sounds as if it's descended from anything but punk and hardcore. Pop, rock, metal, even -- gasp -- rap metal, it's all there -- except for the real roots of the music. Nobody, it seems, feels comfortable putting the hardcore in post-hardcore. Enter Pittsburgh's Io. Though the band takes on a style of music as far removed from Minor Threat as Jets to Brazil is from the Clash, there are still enough less-than-subtle hints and influences on The Willow Snag to show the band's debt to classic punk rock. In fact, The Willow Snag is reminiscent of a time when emotional hardcore music thrived, and arguably was born, in Washington, D.C. with bands like the Faith, Void, SOA and Teen Idles. It recalls a time when kids banded together and combined their intelligence and angst to scream for change and express their art form with loud, aggressive music. But by 1988, the tone of the D.C. scene had shifted somewhat. Where the early bands had been strident and polemical in their stance, the new generation of Dischord Records bands was mellower and more mature. Sensitivity, melancholy and self-doubt were now acceptable parts of the hardcore mentality, and the founders of the scene had to come to terms with their own process of maturing. In came the heralds of yet another hardcore subculture, which came to be called emo, and bands became more and more self-contained, introverted and contemplative. Io's aesthetic seems in some ways to combine these two sounds to create an emotional, yet very hardcore experience. They sound aggravated and loud. And while passionate rage may have gone out of vogue with the '80s, Io pulls its wrath straight from the gut on this record. They play with structure: Songs start straightforwardly, fall apart and then coalesce in a different form. It's definitely not dance music. Token nods toward seminal D.C. punk bands aren't the only ties to punk roots Io makes on this album. From the guitar and bass figures on "By Berry" that threaten to whirl out of control at any moment, to the terse drumming of "Acquainted with the Night," to the reckless vocal tracks on "Tectonics," this album takes on its share of punk vigor. Fiery and rambunctious, Io isn't afraid to get down to the business of rocking on the 10 tracks featured on this collection. While 90 percent of the emo world desperately attempts to sever its ties with its punk roots, spinning off into pop and metal directions, Io is one of the few acts making music that's a fitting heir to the empire started by emo hardcore pioneers. Just like hardcore became the next chapter in the punk story in the early '80s, Io continues punk rock's artistic development with a set full of energy and pride. While the band won't rewrite punk history, let alone secure itself a place in punk mythology, with The Willow Snag it does give all the bands attempting to separate emo from its roots a much-deserved kick in the nuts.

-- BRUCE BOUL

Mon., July 8. With Face Down In Shit, Anton Bordman, the Body, the Moment. 7 p.m. $5. Mr. Roboto Project, Wilkinsburg. 412.247.9639

Admittedly, making the most brilliant soul record of the year isn't as difficult as it was in, say, 1965. But don't let the lack of competition deter from the achievement. Solomon Burke is a mortician, recognized bishop and -- as a musical contemporary of Otis Redding, James Brown and O.V. Wright -- a veteran. At age 62 -- not much older than Mick Jagger, whose band has covered his tunes -- Burke decided to hook up with the redoubtable Fat Possum, a label known for ripping the Mississippi Delta a new one with some of the most barn-burning, ramshackle blues records ever. The crowned king of rock-'n'-soul then sent for his church organist, Brother Rudy Copeland and picked through a song selection sent to him by admirers Bob Dylan, Elvis Costello, Tom Waits, Van Morrison, Brian Wilson and Nick Lowe. None of them had been previously recorded by their authors. Don't Give Up On Me was recorded live in the studio, making one of Fat Possum's most accessible records yet, with all the soul of that label's late Junior Kimbrough. It pleads and tugs, with Burke's smooth voice testifying secular-style to the pains, failures and re-awakenings of the human condition. And while none of the tunes are self-penned and all of them bear the stamp of their composers, they come off as having to have been yanked directly from the good bishop's heart. A particular highlight is the Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil testimonial, "None of Us Are Free," which reaches forever heavenward thanks to support by gospel legends the Blind Boys of Alabama. Though Burke hit big early on, he's remained an enigma to many who are familiar with his '60s-era contemporaries, making this release an excellent place to start. And unlike the aforementioned soul godfathers, he's in full health and voice and shows no signs of slowing. Guaranteed to cut a wide swath through all current music scenes, coax a few tears and a lot of joy.

-- BRUCE MILLER

Break out your skinny ties and duct tape; the '80s are back. It's been 20 years since the airwaves were filled with the sounds of synthesizers, so the time is right for a new wave of New Wave nostalgia. From this album's opening burst of static, it's obvious that the Epoxies are all your favorite bands from 1982 rolled into one. Filled with the beeps and blips of electronic keyboards, their self-titled first album continues the musical heritage of Devo, Thomas Dolby, the Vapors and Gary Numan. Lyrically, they exist in a world of plastic and glass, looking for love amidst the nuclear fear of a Cold War era. But it is the voice of singer Roxy Epoxy that is the most evocative of the period. With slight changes of inflection, she is able to summon the spirits of Blondie, Missing Persons and Bow Wow Wow. Throw aggressive drumming and the signature Adam Ant tribal yodel into the background and the package is complete. While the Epoxies wear their influences openly, they manage to make it all seem fresh and exciting again. The challenge is to continue to do so without devolving into a Sha Na Na-like novelty act.

-- WAYNE WISE