Pianos Become the Teeth "Old Pride" CDPosted on Tuesday, February 9th, 2010 @ 6:24am » permalink
The latest from Topshelf Records is "Old Pride", the debut full-length from Baltimore, MD's Pianos Become the Teeth. I had never heard this band before, but was immediately won over by their fusion of tactful "post-rock" textures and absolutely stellar "screamo" (or whatever you want to call it). So expect just a little bit of the whole shimmery tremolo picking thing and lots of ripping screams and frantic, angular riffing held in place by emphatic melodies and stripped down clean passages. There's definitely a certain sense of rawness to it all, but these cats are far tighter than many bands of this nature. Even the often erratic bursts of percussion always feel very well controlled, so they're able to inject "chaotic" feelings into their compositions without relying on sloppy playing or overly jagged arrangements. There are all kinds of riffs happening, too – acerbic rhythms, little chunky bits, winding dissonant arpeggios, super thick pulses of bass, really spacious and somber clean breaks – not to mention the fact that a handful of the tracks start creeping up on six- to eight-minute lengths. So they may have a foundation based on certain staples of this particular style, but they're not limiting themselves by any means. Cool cover art, cool lyrics… this is just a great album all the way around. I'm glad to have been exposed to it, and wish I got the chance to stumble across more bands of this nature who really know how to do it right.
The first man saw his scope. Making lists, he asked will it look like this tomorrow? Excuse you, behoove you to live a spider's life and "clean up nice". Placate away, placate away and grow up tame. Tonight I saw what I'll never be, old men walking and the reveries badgering me. My longevity lays in my feet, I'm counting Fridays on calendars. I'm seeing signs in my yellow teeth. I do my best thinking while driving but now I have to wear glasses and they've been doing roadwork for years. It's funny how towns never lose their smells. It's funny how now I scythe and scowl about missing this house. You can learn to live without anyone, you just can't live with the re-runs. I'm ready to let my hair down, I'm ready to move to the woods until the floor boards get raspy, I'm ready, I'm ready. Sometimes I wish i could stop scratching at my wheals, scratching at the heels of my sneaks.