| WAITING FOR U.S.RAIL |
An existential play in one act. Characters: [Setting: An abstract plane. A skyline of cracked CD cases. A tumbleweed sets itself on fire and rolls across the stage, where FOLK MAN and PUNK BOY stroll and converse.] FOLK MAN: Oh despair. What is left to be said about what U.S.Rail concocts with a paucity of ingredients: haphazardly recorded acoustic guitar, hyper-harmonizing vocals, distorted bass, organ, arrhythmic drumming, ubiquitous banjo noodling and of course, their tremulous soul, which they threaten to overexpose? We may as well have been asked to rhapsodize about a grilled cheese sandwich-- that treat similar to the U.S.Rail in that it is so much better than it should be, the consumption of which feels guiltless and light, despite its ominous cheesiness. PUNK BOY: I too am inclined to despair. They recorded their first album “Who Am I Today?” three years ago with a doppelganger in place of the elegant Joel Plewa. These songs have been with me too long. I feel as if I've been asked to discuss my own foot. FOLK MAN: What to do with their self-produced self-released 10 song extravaganza? PUNK BOY: That's why God made eBay. [Enter GOD.] GOD: Affiliate me not with the genesis of eBay. I resent the construction "that's why God made ________" when people just go on to cite something like flip-flops, Teddy Grahams, or condoms. My designs are much more complicated and counterintuitive-- grasshoppers, pineapples, tuberculosis. Sorry, I'm ranting. [Exit GOD.] FOLK MAN: Perhaps the only strategy for comprehending these sacred texts would be for us to recount all that U.S. Rail has given us, even if we're made to feel like mere information-dispensers, or ATMs, in doing so. PUNK BOY: Firstly, these songs are not chronological, “She Said”, for example, being an old Spy Smasher song recorded with an air of vain self-importance yet each song evokes its own U.S.Rail "folk-influenced punk-derived style". With “Hole In The Wall”, we're offered mostly the warm, mellow, imagistic U.S. Rail. The song ambles through the speakers' doom-sap and analyzes friendship's over-promises. The narrators are viziers of tiny, silly empires, and U.S.Rail knows it-- their lyric sheet indicates that they project near-apocalyptic weight to their petty grievances. That's no slight; in fact, the best songs here function like slice-of-vexed-life short stories without resolutions. FOLK MAN: Standouts include, but are not limited to, the annihilation-obsessed "Germ", during which U.S. Rail is accompanied by some kind of breezily buzzing distorted whirligig guitar, and "Grind Like A Girl", a perfect example of U.S.Rail's singular penchant for clashing archetypes (here the theme of outlaw-awaiting-death tradition meets a child's escapist fantasy mixed with transgender politics). “Broken Stitches” sounds as if it compiles several short country motifs and plays like a mid-career filler song rather than a lost-back-catalog goulash. PUNK BOY: Which brings us to the considerably less witty and less ingratiating, “Mechanic's Grip”. U.S.Rail admits that its songs are "stolen loot" and the con-artist reference in the title explicitly refers to how they might be swallowed. For some nebulous reason, this song has an estate-sale grab-bag feel -- sure, it's a catchy gem, a near flawless facsimile of Contact By Garvey's song “Paper and Makeup” and you feel that you get a lot for your money, but a lot of what? Punctured hosepipes, plastic Christmas trees, and stained sweatpants? The limitations of the U.S.Rail's minimalist formula are apparent here; the songs feature U.S.Rail's trusty lo-fi mentality, the static and hiss and the sound of mechanical gears grinding suggest a robo-cow chewing its robo-cud rather than an interesting no-fi texture. FOLK MAN: Still, the listener is treated to "Blender Wins Again", in which the narrator is tortured by his partner's ability to ingratiate himself to anyone while simultaneously not being liked by anyone. "She Said", the song that “Blender Wins Again” leads into, is representative of the U.S. Rail's knack for using material things as objective correlatives for emotions and temporal connections. On these songs, a gift of, say, a telephone call changes the narrator's life convincingly, articulating the way sheer "stuff" can grip us. The instrumental “Rusty Water” is a solid number eerily reminiscent of Elizabeth Cotton's “Freight Train” on a folk-punk CD that starts to feel vestigial. Some wool-gathering is afoot. PUNK BOY: The muzzy attenuation of “Who Am I Today?” as a whole is nullified by the glory that is “Infinite Spark”, truly the proverbial "one you've been waiting for". If you are among those hand-to-mouth loser-imps who only own one-third of 69 Love Songs, then “Infinite Spark” is the ultimate U.S.Rail fraction for your fundamentally incomplete existence. The New Testament lords over this disc with fetching benevolence. U.S.Rail blurs the line between frisky materialism and spiritualism, all the while blending claustrophobic sobriety with absurdist wit. FOLK MAN: My emotions are pretty much pickled, but "100 Cigarettes" sends me out to my balcony in Spanish Harlem, crying a slough of tears onto the chickens roaming the alley. PUNK BOY: Whew, we got worked up there. Oh well, back to our meaningless toil. Back to waiting for the 17 song second album to be completed.. And to hoping the U.S.Rail will persevere. FOLK MAN: Perseverance isn't always a good thing. Isn't it fucked up that the "The Price Is Right" is still making new episodes? [Enter U.S.RAIL.] PUNK BOY: U.S.Rail! FOLK MAN: It is they who will not abate! U.S.RAIL: Yes, here we are, the U.S.Rail, who will not abate. My friends, I must ask: Now that you have these omnibuses, are you happy? FOLK MAN: When are you going to start recording again? Perhaps that 6 song EP you've been talking about for some time? PUNK BOY: How about going to into a real studio for the next full length? The songs would probably benefit more from better recording techniques and digital trickery. U.S.RAIL: Ah, my friends. Proust wrote of artless art collectors and how they were eventually consumed by their consumption to the point that no opus can satiate them. Be patient. Maybe try a new food every other Wednesday. Memorize outdated maps. Just diversify your passions beyond the realm of the shrink-wrappable. [Exit U.S.RAIL.] FOLK MAN: We will never be happy. PUNK BOY: We will never be happy. [They smile.] |