Dos Wooden Shjips Rar
If potential were a physical substance, it would've dripped like melted wax from Wooden Shjips' 2006 debut 10'. The three-song slab of raw, noisy grooves was so bursting with ideas, it suggested a lifetime of musical possibilities. Follow-up singles took steps toward that promise, but the San Francisco quartet's first, self-titled full-length was a bit of a retreat. Vital elements- repetitive bass, wiry guitars, droning keyboards, and ghostly vocals- remained intact, but there was a weariness to it all, the primitive thrill of previous releases replaced by workman-like resignation. Dos goes a long way towards re-igniting Wooden Shjips' fire. Sonically, its five songs aren't as exploding or abrasive as earlier work- in fact, this is the smoothest-sounding Shjips record so far. But taut energy courses through most of the album's 38 minutes.
Wooden Shjips Dos
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Bassist Dusty Jermier sticks to variations on the bouncing line he used to fuel the band's first insta-classic, 'Shrinking Moon For You'. His chugging loops are like a whip-crack, revving the band through their 1960s-licking garage tunes with the momentum of a hurtling 18-wheeler. The twin engines powering that velocity are the Stooges and Suicide. Imagine the machine-like grooves of Fun House simplified even further, with Iggy's yawp replaced by the chilly moan of Alan Vega. (For a more recent reference point, try Yo La Tengo's 'Pass the Hatchet, I Think I'm Goodkind' recorded in a pool of ice water.) Sure, there are other touchstones here: krautrock, the Doors, Spacemen 3, and pretty much any music reliant on repetition, from Terry Riley to the Fall to Fuck Buttons. But just try listening to Dos' first two tracks- the mesmerizing 'Motorbike' and the shimmering 'For So Long', featuring fuzz spirals from guitarist Ripley Johnson- without visions of Detroit garage and New York punk coating your eyelids. The rest of Dos can't quite keep the pulse of those initial salvos.
Staying inventive within the confines of repetition is sometimes too much for the band to muster. But Johnson's fiery playing is impressive throughout- on 'Down By the Sea', his guitar catches so many flames, it's a wonder there's any music left when he's done torching. And Wooden Shjips make up for mid-album sags on the closer, 'Fallin'. Like Devo's 'Gates of Steel' filtered through the 1969 live version of the Velvet Underground's 'What Goes On' (recorded, coincidentally, in San Francisco), it's a 12-minute rock mantra, full of the kind of possibility with which this band began. Dos may not be the Wooden Shjips' masterwork, but by the end of 'Fallin', you can once again imagine one in their future.