The Beths - Expert in A Dying Field

 The Beths - Expert in a Dying Field       

Label: Carpark

After two fantastic Indie Rock records I was simultaneously excited to get my copy (early from pre-order) of the new one by my new favourite band and terrified that I wouldn't like it as much as the first, judging it harshly against hype and the previous two.

Jump Rope Gazers and Future Me Hates Me have been on constant rotation here since I heard them. One great track after another (even though I SWEAR my copy of JRG is warped at the end of each side. But Beth's voice doesn't sound wavery like the instruments so...damn you, interesting production!) has had me extolling this band like a crazed fanboy. 

Did I try to go see them an hour away the day after I came back from an East Coast work trip? Yes. Did I fall asleep way before the concert so there was no way I would make it? Also, yes. Did I purchase tickets to their upcoming spring show? Hell yes. 

Fanboy. 

And then I heard Expert's singles. And I was absolutely sure I would love this one, too. And I did. Not right away. That's because I had to do the weighing of this record against the previous two, which played like discoveries, having zero build up. And then, on listen 3, I got it. I was able to let it stand on it's own instead of in the shadow of those two terrific records. It's another in a series of gems by Beth Stokes and her merry band of New Zealanders. 

The very concept of a relationship having come to an end and the participants being "experts" on each other and matching that to the coldness of said relationship being a "field" that is "dying" is brilliant. It's poetry the likes of which we rarely get in music these days. Sure we get the forlorn. We get the brokenhearted. But we don't get the kind of wordplay that calls to mind a field where romance could blossom also being a workplace where you have overstayed your time. 

It calls to mind the dual uses of the word "Whatever" in that song from the debut and makes me hate my own writing. But that's okay. I've always hated my own writing. 

And I can always sing along to Beth. 

Grade: A

Packaging Grade: A

    The gatefold is packed with Polaroid photos of the band in various stages of work on the record. The lyrics are printed on the other side of a giant poster of that...fish. And my copy is the early order Spring Green from Carpark and it's lovely. 

A Side: Expert in a Dying Field, Knees Deep, Silence is Golden, 2AM

Blind Sides: Best Left, The Passing Rain, I Told You That I Was Afraid

Local Drags - Keep Me Glued

 Local Drags - Keep Me Glued 

I don't recall the moment when I discovered that there was a plethora of Power Pop made in America but only available from labels overseas. I mean, sure, I've always known that there have been scads of US artists that never get nationwide distribution but this was the first time as I reentered the vinyl world, that I learned about just how MUCH there was. 

I think the throughline starts with a Facebook page about Power Pop. The playlist in one particular post led me to a series of bands and singles that perked me up. Lovebreakers. The Yum Yums. Radio Days. And more. 

Searching for those records, the latter two being on Screaming Apple records took me to The Machine Shop Rocks, an American distributor and that brought me to a page where Local Drags lived. Or sold. 

And, when I finally pulled the order trigger, I made sure to order those records because the entire MO of my vinyl journey was to support smaller artists. I mean, the Taylor Swifts of the world don't need my money (Yes, I bought Midnights....dammit) but the Lannie Durbins of the world? He could use my $20. 

Like the Starter Jackets project Lannie is involved with, these records are filled to their short running time brim with 2 minute razor sharp pop rockers that, 40 years ago, would have seen them move to a larger label and try to make it in the era of skinny ties and weird Nielsen guitars. 

My main complaint? I've already stated it and I will again when the other records of his come up: 23 minutes is not an album. It could be called a "mini-album" but, then, who would spend full ticket price for that, right? 

The music, however, is another story. Because no song wears out their welcome, the album is a breeze. The guitars are crunchy, the choruses work, the understated vocals never pushing too far into RAWK. This follows the Power Pop motif laid out by the likes of The Raspberries, albeit, Local Drags' music is edgier. 

Grade: A-

Packaging Grade: C (No inner sleeve, no notes, no lyrics, but the Chemical Lake Blue platter is gorgeous)

A Sides: Springfield Discount Cemetary, Cash Bar, Keep Me Glued

Blind Sides: Give a Shit Anyway, Ghost Runner