New Music: Watchers, Parts & Labor

Watchers - Crumbs ft. James Chance (Gern Blandsten 2007)

Watchers – Vampire Driver / Gern Blandsten

For only their second full-length release (bridged together with two excellent EPs, 2005’s Dunes Phase and 2006’s Rabble), Chicago’s Watchers attempt to find their way out of James Chance’s angular shadow by tweaking their sound in a number of different directions. With their unstable line-up finally anchoring down to the trio of Michael Guarrine (Assembly Line People Program, Hex), Ethan d’Ercole (Mannequin Men) and Damien Thompson plus a couple of additional accessory players, the unit continues to bang out urgent 3-minute jerks of avant-funk, no wave and Dischordian punk, but in an increasingly skeletal manner. Wily, mischievous and knotty, Vampire Driver transports you back to New York City’s Lower East Side circa 1981 when the Contortions and DNA reeked havoc on ears and dance floors, but thankfully, in a much less pretentious state-of-mind.

Now before we completely leave Chance, a man you have to cite repeatedly while discussing Watchers’ brand of music, he once again contributes to the cause for the second consecutive release. Along with his Contortions, Chance was one of the most important figures in the development of No Wave in NYC during the late 70s as well as inventing such hyphenated genres like avant-funk and noise-funk. The man squawked and squealed with such infectious power, he was key in revealing noise as an instrument in underground music. So when such a respectable and ground-breaking force appears not only on multiple albums, but tags the unit as his backing band while on tour, you have got to show your respect. Funky no wave may not be all the rage these days, but if anyone is continuing to further the cause, it’s the Watchers.

Also along for the ride are fellow Chicagoans Damon Locks and Wayne Montana, who themselves cause such genre confusion in their band The Eternals. While they continue to conglomerate and layer their sound with Lee Perry-like humor, Watchers are stripping away theirs in almost a Fugazi-like direction. Vampire Driver is raucous, distraught, angular and eccentric, but still very musical; it is not all in-your-face noise, only the thoughtfully stripped-away essentials. The other noteworthy echoing force of their music stems from The Specials, who took British ska to completely new levels of innovativeness. With the manic punk attitude, ska undertones and exuberant vocals, the Watchers are only a horn section and a few covers (which I’m guessing they know anyways) away from being a Specials tribute band. It’s not a slant by any means though: a combination of Contortions, Fugazi and The Specials? Fuck yes, I’m in.

Vampire Driver excels the most when the Watchers are mixing it up or collaborating with accentuating players. “Crumbs” featuring James Chance is definitely the highlight: urgent, manic and surprisingly melodic, it could be practically a Buy b-side. Damon Locks adds his odd vocal tenor to “Young One” and “(We’ve Got) A Witness,” both very much owing a drink to Terry Hall and company. Tracks like “Science Theme” and “S.I.S.I.A.I.” mix up the instrumentation, the former adding sci-fi synths care of Wayne Montana and the latter with pots-and-pans percussion, adding a much welcomed dynamic to the rampant avant-punk of the album. And finally, when the unit finds a deep groove beneath the scathing guitars and sassy vocals, especially heard on “Union,” heavy head nodding and jerky dance moves are inevitable.

Watchers may very well be one of Chicago’s most overlooked musical gems. They completely ignore every bandwagon quickly passing them by and continue to purvey a genre that they obviously whole-heartily believe in, which should be the absolute foundation to any good band. Though Vampire Driver is a solid album from start to finish, I do think some of the urgency and fun is lost in the recording process (the live Rabble EP is a great example of this), and they very well may be just an excellent producer away from something truly mind-blowing. In the mean time though, we have a great stopgap solution in Vampire Driver and if you’re lucky, a tour date or two.







Parts & Labor - Fractured Skies (Jagjaguwar/Brah 2007)

Parts & Labor – Mapmaker / Jagjaguwar/Brah

I first came across Parts & Labor in their infancy. 2003 was a year where my musical palette expanded significantly; independent radio took the step from up a curiosity into an obsession, I subscribed to zine after music-oriented zine to hone my tastes (from Skyscraper to Wax Poetics to Fader) and I spent a lot of money I didn’t have on albums by artists I had only read about just to feed this new fix. Rise, Rise, Rise, a split between Brooklyn trio Parts & Labor and avant-garde guitar player Tyondai Braxton (son of acclaimed jazz experimenter Anthony Braxton and currently dominating the world’s ears in Battles), was one of such albums. I wouldn’t necessarily call it an incredibly important album in my taste development, but it’s curious combination of accessible noisy avant-garde rock certainly made an impact. Since that glorious October afternoon when I pulled the spilt from it’s mail-ordered cardboard box (mail-order! pschhhh, that’s so 2003… er… 1995), I have kept a close eye on all three parties involved, Narnack Records, Braxton and Parts & Labor. The former two have held their own in delivering the eccentrically wonderful goods over the years, and I am now happy to report that with Mapmaker, Parts & Labor are finally up to speed.

The core of the Brooklyn noise-rock trio is keyboardist Dan Friel and bassist B.J. Warshaw, two sound experimenters who came together as co-workers at NYC’s Knitting Factory. They are now working with the third drummer in their five-year existence, Christopher R. Weingarten, and from the opening moments of their sophomore full-length on Jagjaguwar/Brah, he contributes a significant impact. “Fractured Skies” rips open the doors of Mapmaker. Weingarten pummels in like Zach Hill in a lock-groove, while Friel’s scathing keyboards somehow form a coherent structure through all the noise. But such noise-rock has been done these days time and again, so how does Parts & Labor differentiate themselves from the pack? Anthems my friend, anthems. Mapmaker is full of them, and “Fractured Skies” is one of the most triumphant album openers I have come across in recent memory. Teaming vocals sore and a horn section blares into a fist-pumping climax of gleefully squealing noise while Weingarten’s drums incessantly batter at a speed-metal pace. My arms are tired just listening.

The pieces of Parts & Labor’s sound are curious to say the least: noise-rock, pop-punk and avant-funk with touches of Scottish marching troupes… I kid you not. In all actuality, the Scottish influence (which stems from who-knows-where) was one of the most intriguing aspects of the Rise, Rise, Rise split, though it is toned down to the occasional bag-pipe like keyboard buzz here or an anthemic kilt-sporting march there. The other curious characteristic is the pop-punk influence. Not really the most popular genre among the American underground these days, it is heartily apparent in a number of places throughout Mapmaker, especially within Weingarten’s speed-punk drumming. As far as complete songs go though, “Brighter Days” and “Vision of Repair” are simply pop-punk anthems dressed up in noise. The vocal hooks soar exuberantly over the simple, spastic punk beat and a thumping bass line. If it weren’t for Friel’s ridiculously manic keyboard spits, this would be classified completely in the pop-punk section. Don’t let that turn you off though; if anything, Mapmaker reminds you why such a genre can be so popular when played with the right amount of individualism.

Parts & Labor are certainly not the first band to amp up the anthems with a healthy dose of noise, but it just feels like a while since anyone has done it with such gleeful abandon. I rarely do any moshing (hell, I rarely get out to a show as it is), but if I did, this is how I want it soundtracked. The circling pit wouldn’t just be an excuse to relieve some aggression by pounding against some other violent mosher; it would be an inevitable display of energy channeled through the band into your merrily thrashing arms. It would be a pit where when someone falls, everyone dashes to pick him off the floor so we can all enjoy the blissfully noisy moment and flail together in relief of our painfully separate daily lives.