Six Going on Seven
by Carly Carioli
Well, jeez, they look like an emocore band, like they should sound like
the Promise Ring or something. But for one thing there's no distortion, and for
another, even in the modern world of willfully vexing melody-avoidance
techniques, Six Going on Seven sound weird. Good weird. Like, when they
did a cover of Tracy Chapman's "Fast Car" it sounded perfectly natural, even
though it wasn't, not by a long shot.
First things first: their debut album, Self-Made Mess (on Some Records,
the label run by Quicksand's Walter Schreifels and CIV's Sam Seigler), charts
the course of a guy for whom love hasn't worked out ("Happiness is method
acting" and "I'm in love with a sinking ship" are two of the more upbeat
lines). The resultant lack of closure is mirrored evasion for evasion by the
music. Lack of emotional resolution begets a lack of melodic resolution, and
yet both often seem so close you can taste it. So you end up on the edge of
your seat the entire time, trying to keep up with the feints and trapdoors and
buried hatchets.
Guitarist James Bransford came to rock via a stretch as a child blues prodigy
touring Deep South jukes, followed by a composition degree at Berklee.
Bassist/singer Josh English, who's got a hoarse/scratchy throat but can croon
all smooth-like when he wants, played first fiddle in the Youth Symphony out in
Portland, Oregon, before discovering punk rock. Drummer Will Bartlett is
apparently some really smart-type guy too. The point being that their tools
don't come from the same old toolbox, appearances in this case are more
deceptive than usual, and past that you're gonna have to hear 'em to figure it
all out. But mark these words: by the time they return from this national tour
they're on, all the girls will be a-swoon, and the children will be throwing
their stompboxes out the window.
|