Turncoat Turntable 009: LBSC – Smoke Alarm Charm | Rock Reviews by WestCoast Weasel

Turncoat Turntable 009: LBSC – Smoke Alarm Charm

by WestCoast Weasel
January 8, 2010

turn09
I have a strict rule of refusing to review an album until I’ve given it a minimum of three rotations. LBSC avoided being the exception and became the rule, as the third time was the charm. The Smoke Alarm Charm. Rather than letting it play in the background, or while sitting at one’s desk—one must let it become a soundtrack, rather than a playlist. Leave the bedroom speakers where they belong and take it for a run. My feet raced across a treadmill while my heart pumped at near-LBSC level… sweat n’ all. I even chose to keep this soaking, grim attire on while I reviewed the album minutes later. Try it. Strive to be at their level. Let these twelve filthy gems be the drip to your line, the grip on your throttle, the swig from your bottle, and the salt on your swine.

Your speakers aren’t blown, but your ears just might be. “Get Nocturnal” sets the stage by pushing the envelope of acceptable clipping/distortion in the mix. These boys force the tunes to be loud. Turn it down and it’ll still be loud. Neighbours and fellow bus-riders beware: The scumbags are back for one last dirty ride. For the next forty minutes, all stop requests will be denied.

Initially I felt the panning of Mr. Malone’s vocals primarily in the right (or conversely, the left) channel (speaker) on more than a couple tracks was a poor move. While this still may create undesired results in some applications, it works wonders in others. Surprisingly, in a pair of headphones is where my favorite cut of the album, “Cathedral Cash,” sounds best; the psychotic overdub that shouts out of your left speaker in “The Dealer Said He’d Kill Me” compliments that track in a big way but leaves the rest of the vocals sounding isolated. The same can be said for the reverse effect on “The Chicago Typewriter.” Despite their differences, two of the aforementioned three still end up being preferred cuts.

Awkwardness meets beauty, as the introduction of “I Wanna Be Re-Animated” shifts from off-time guitars to sweet Motown-esque female voices. It paints an image of a dark alley where Jonny’s six-string is knockin’ on the door, punctuated by the pound of Logan’s bass, only for it to be blown down with Spencer’s tommy gun arsenal of skins and for the resident drunk Malone to crash the party and greet the lovely gals with a grin reeking of gin.

Spencer’s drum sounds seem to vary in sharpness and clarity, though improve progressively as the album plays through—though I’m unsure why. The digital distortion is more present on the first half (which may attribute to it). Even during high points, hearing the kick-drum almost anywhere but center throughout the record is certainly a different approach considering the bass drum is almost always dead center. The distortion effect often seems to accentuate Jonny’s treble charged guitars, while mudding Logan’s lower end. His bass does cut through nicely on both “The Chicago Typewriter” and album closer “Smoke Alarm Charm.” Luckily, Scott’s vocal presence is finally captured on tape. Longtime fans will agree that for this it’s worth a listen alone.

As it should, Smoke Alarm Charm literally sounds like it’s their last gasp. The final kick at the cat. You can feel the very last drop of sweat fall from each one of them. As both a friend and fan, I couldn’t have been more pleased with the decision to release the album for free, exclusively at WestCoastWeasel.com. Despite that—after anticipating its release I’d hoped that their long awaited effort would have had more in the way of final product. Should an online release nix the back cover art, a lyric sheet* or at the very least—a list of credits? Who wrote each song? Where was it recorded, by whom and when? And what about those lovely girls—who were they? That being said, perhaps I’m a greedy old schooler. I suppose keeping things under wraps is part of their mystique. After all it is a club.

A “Legitimate Businessman’s Social Club”: Members only. Check yourself at the door.

…Weasel Was Here
Photobucket out of 5 weasels.