The Honeydogs
Amygdala
»
The Honeydogs
Amygdala
C/C Entertainment, 2007
RiYL: The Who's Tommy, Wilco's Being There |
It should come as no surprise to the faithful readers of this site that I am giving the Honeydogs’ newest Amygdala a stellar review. The only question is really just how many platitudes I will give the record. After all, I’ve handed out my share of lofty reviews to Levy and the band’s previous two albums—the inspired Here’s Luck (2001) and the exhausting yet exhilarating 10,000 Years ( 2003). Here’s Luck borrowed from so many sources that the album was more like an homage to a classic record collection than anything else. Conversely 10,000 Years was a daring and expansive rock opera on the scale of the Who’s Tommy, or at least since Queensryche’s underrated classic Operation: Mindcrime. The latter seemed especially surprising, coming from a band whose first three albums defined the burgeoning alt.country scene – blunt, straightforward, catchy and crunchy.
So where does Amygdala fit in the band’s catalog? Somewhere right in the middle. And that’s not a bad thing. Amygdala is less lyrically daring than 10,000 Years, which, while a terrific record, certainly took its toll on the listener. That album spun tales of war, terrorism, evil, and test tube babies—not exactly easy listening. The new record also isn’t as musically expansive as Here’s Luck, where you could tell Levy was trying to find his niche in the midst of a bunch of old Phil Spector and Mott the Hoople records.
For lack of a better term, Amygdala is the band’s most approachable record since 1997’s Seen A Ghost. It’s upfront and straightforward in a way Levy hasn’t written in years. That’s not to say that the new record sounds much like the alt.country stained Seen A Ghost, but rather that Amygdala has a more cohesive feel than the band’s more recent efforts. And that’s saying something for a record that moves from bouncy pop rock to introspective grunge to a strange melting pot of contemporary European Cabaret… You sort of have to hear it for yourself.
The album kicks off with the tight “Too Close to the Sun,” complete with dreamy organs and light, fluttery guitars. The song sounds like the Beach Boys may have sounded had they grown up along the banks of one of Minnesota’s 10,000 Lakes rather than the shores of the Pacific. Amygdala moves smoothly into the groovy “Truth Serum” and the jazzy overtones of “Ms. Ketchup and the Arsonist,” in which Levy spins a seedy, smoky tale about obsession gone bad. Levy croons:
Ms. Ketchup had a theory
No one could answer that query
What would it take to break her heart
and come unglued
Hearts fall apart
Well she was searching for a holy love
Into the mud she dropped her glove
It’s the mud that gets bloody
Well curse the poor boy
That keeps on loving her
The album drags a bit with the slow “Tar Baby Napalm” before picking it up a notch on “Rattling My Tin Cup,” a typical Honeydogs arena-sized rocker. “Rattling” and “Devil’s Advocate” demonstrate that Levy hasn’t lost his hard edge, while “Invertebrate” and “The Firing Squad Reloads” show that his analytical side is still sharp as well.
Amygdala hits its stride over the last five songs, starting with “Heads Or Tales,” which features guitarist Brian Halverson on lead vocals and Levy showing off his acoustic chops and could easily fit next to the Who’s “Behind Blue Eyes” on some sort of cosmic mix tape.
On “Belle Epoque,” Levy does his best Eddie Vedder impersonation, which is kind of surreal in and of itself. Lyrically Levy has a lot in common with the Pearl Jam frontman, as they both spin allegorical and expansive tales. That said, Levy might take things a bit further; I’ve yet to hear a Pearl Jam song with the words “double helix” or “seratonin.” “Belle Epoque” paints a beautiful image of the dangers of care-free drug use and getting lost in a strange worldview, or at least I think it does.
“Use at your own risk / Double helix / Meth lab motel specters / narcoleptic dreams / Corrode you / seratonin owns you/ swing low now sweet hollow / what follows is foul,” Levy sings before hitting the chorus: “Oh, there she goes / Belle Epoque’s left us again / Oh, there she goes / Belle Epoque’s left us again / Some day man and machine will lie down / in a field / together.”
Amygdala is named after the part of the brain responsible for emotions and indeed it provides exercise for the mind. Levy is clearly a cerebral writer and his lyrics are not easily digested, while his musical approach is as salt-of-the-Earth as rock gets. The two sides make quite the unique combination.
So perhaps he knows this when he hits the chorus on “Cut To The Chase,” a cut-and-dried rocker that could be a big single, were it not for its references to a dominatrix and babies in burqas.
“Please don’t cut to chase / Let’s make it last / this heart drops way too fast / Please don’t cut to the chase / Let’s make it last / We don’t want our best days to pass.”
Don’t worry Adam, your best days haven’t passed. And from the sounds of it, there’s plenty more yet to come.
RODEO ROB | An expert on all things "alt," Rob spends his days covering the energy industry and his nights covering the DC-area bars. Raise yer glass especially high to this man, for he has contributed to this site constantly since its creation four years ago.