Albums by this artist

The Convenience Of Indecision (2001)

Sorry About Dresden

The Convenience Of Indecision

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» A.K. GOLD | STAFF WRITER

Sorry About Dresden The Convenience Of Indecision Saddle Creek, 2001 RiYL: Superchunk, Cursive, Bright Eyes

Sometimes the rock just doesn't rock you like it should. That's the best way to characterize the latest album from Chapel Hill's Sorry About Dresden. Sorry About Dresden writes pretty good songs. They rationally understand and utilize tension and release, they make good use of drummer James Hepler and bassist Matt Tomich's solid rhythm work, and guitarist/singers Matt Oberst and Eric Roehrig ably create a range of guitar sounds and deliver sincere vocal performances. But it always feels like there is a void in their songs. The driving punk arrangement on "One Version Of Events," with its so-speedy-no-one-can-keep-up chorus, should have me up in arms jumping about my bedroom and craving a punk show. I want to feel that way when I listen to it. But, for some reason, it doesn't work. The song is broken (or maybe I am), there is something missing and I can't figure out what the hell it is.

And it's not just the hardcore leaning tracks that leave me strangely unsatisfied. The same thing occurs on "It's Morning Again In America," which finds Roehrig sounding strikingly like Crooked Fingers (whom I love). The track just lacks the element of urgency that makes Eric Bachmann's dour tales of drunkenness engaging and devastating. The only track on the record where I'm not consumed by this feeling is on "Deadship, Darkship," where the relationship rock song gives way to a devastatingly cathartic confession. Oberst and Roehrig's voices sound like someone is cutting their vocal cords with a knife as they morph Peter Gabriel's early '90s boombox-serenade-worthy line "In Your Eyes" into an honest and brutal explanation. It works, but why don't many of the other tracks? If you know, drop me an email at criticgirl@hotmail.com, 'cause for the life of me I can't figure it out.

A.K. GOLD | A.K. Gold lives in Washington, D.C., where she slaves away for a non-profit organization and constantly compares everything to New York City or Chicago. She's earned her "cred" as a college radio and pre-1960 country music DJ, committed indie label street teamer, sporadic zinemaker/contributor, retired mail-order filler and occasional freelance writer. From time to time, she publishes Anecdotal Evidence, a per zine that will some day be considered for the National Book Award, or possibly not. If you want to buy a copy, or desire to write to her for some other reason, email criticgirl@hotmail.com.