CD reviews

Ramona Falls

Intuit
(Barsuk)
*8.2*

Goes well with: Menomena, introspective nature walks, sleeping pills

There is a subtle but significant difference between Iron & Wine and irony & whine. Brent Knopf seems to understand the chasm separating puerile call for help from stark call to arms, and the Portland native—one-third of indie-rock trio Menomena—finds inspiration in desperation as Ramona Falls. This is technically a solo sojourn, but Knopf is intuitive enough to know that misery-loves-company doesn’t have to be miserly. He enlists the help of a small army (some 35 guest musicians, including members of The Helio Sequence and Talkdemonic) to make an album that’s simultaneously sparse and expansive, both austere and atmospheric.

Regrettably, the opening track (“Melectric”) is Intuit’s most banally obvious. It isn’t until four minutes, 16 seconds later—when “I Say Fever” kicks in—that it becomes clear Ramona Falls is more than just threadbare acoustic emotion. Knopf doesn’t settle for wearing his heart on a guitar strap; rather, he transforms ache and confusion into something hauntingly evocative, even orchestral, with more layers (musically and metaphysically) than a four-tiered wedding cake. Knopf stretches at times (the jumbled “Always Right”), but on songs like “Russia,” “Salt Sack” and “Bellyfulla,” he takes listeners to the edge of a cliff with no hint as to whether we’re going to jump off or just absorb the view. On one of Intuit’s centerpieces, “Going Once, Going Twice,” Knopf sings “I’m desperate /just to find / a respite / for my mind.” I think he’s found it.

Ramona Falls plays Saturday, Aug. 22, at Bar Pink.

Casy & Brian

Catbees
(Pish Posh)
*8.6*

Goes well with: Beastie Boys demos, John Cage on crack, sonata with trashcan lids

Here’s what you need to know about Casy & Brian: Casy M. plays the Casio; Brian M. plays the drums. Except when Casy M. plays the drums and Brian M. plays the Casio. In spite of these limitations (or perhaps because of them), Casy & Brian unleash blunt-force trauma on their instruments.

The crude synth work makes The Spits sound like Stravinsky, but the relentless kick-and-snare combo carries the choppy rhythms along. To call it “lo-fi” stretches the limits of the definition of fidelity. The pair announce their intentions on the opening track, “Duex Drumbaclots”: “Press release man / we don’t play the game!” “The House on Haunted Hill” starts off like something off a David Lynch soundtrack and ends as a mish-mash of spooky riffs with a “Welcome to the Terrordome”-like call and response.

Casy & Brian are big on concepts. The lyrics from their next album, No Fiction, which is being released as a series of self-produced 7-inch records, are all drawn from nonfiction sources. It shouldn’t work, but somehow it all comes together as a beautiful, caterwauling AK-47 of punk wreckage with about 4,000 time changes.

Casy and Brian play Friday, Aug. 21, at Soda Bar

Jay Reatard

Watch Me Fall
(Matador)
*9.0*

Goes well with: going off your meds

Sometimes it feels like every time Jay Reatard takes a nap, he wakes up with a new song in his head—a loud, jarring mess that matches the dark visions of his dreams. Reatard’s new record is peppier and perkier than its predecessor, the gore-iffic Blood Visions. But that doesn’t make Watch Me Fall any less dark, paranoid or pessimistic.

“I’m Watching You” is sunny and cheerful, with martial drums and bright organ that come off like the ravings of a demented Christian-youth-group bandleader. (This suspicion was confirmed when my 6-year-old daughter started singing along in the car: “I’m watching you-hoo, and everything you do…”).

The opening to “Wounded” wouldn’t feel out of place on a Partridge Family record, but the song swiftly darkens as the pace ramps up, and Reatard’s mocking, desperate vocals take command. Meanwhile, “Can’t Do it Anymore,” “Rotten Mind” and “My Reality” follow the theme of alienation taken to its extremes. Reatard’s songs are trips down the rabbit hole, but don’t be fooled: No matter how pretty the tea party may seem, it’s only a matter of time before things take a desperate turn for the worse.