Boston's The Beatings are often referred to as Punk or, even more quizzically, Pop Punk, but listening to the group's fifth release (and second full-length), Holding On to Hand Grenades, such flippant nomenclature is misleading and perhaps slightly slanderous. The album functions on too many levels to be pinpointed so abruptly. Hand Grenades shares a wandering-eye aesthetic with Hüsker Dü's magnum opus Zen Arcade, shaking up the fluidity with brusque tempo changes, unexpected instrumentation, lead singer switch-offs and spontaneous bursts of exploratory sonics. The Dü comparisons stretch beyond Zen on tracks like "Feel Good Ending" and "CoIntelPro," which renovate Bob Mould's textural, wall-of-guitar ferocity and the Minneapolis legends' amphetamized energy and boldly melodic head-rushes. But this multiple-personality-imbued quartet shows many more faces on Hand Grenades, channeling a less glum, more Rock Joy Division on "False Positive" and "A Responsible Person" and echoing underrated former Beantown greats Dambuilders on the angular, string-tickled "Stockholm Syndrome Relapse" and "Scorched Earth Policy." "Remedial Math Rock" is another standout, an implosion of wild-eyed vocal pandemonium and erratic structural curves, while "Villains" feels like a Strokes/Frank Black duet, only better. The band also indulges its more chaotic urges on a few fractured fragments of noisy experimentation and eccentric instrumentals, brain-curdling spurts of impulsive meandering that might not be much taken alone, but here only add to the album's delightfully demented variability. The Beatings make tousled Art Post-Punk that, while bristling with esoteric melody, would send most "Pop Punk" fans home to cry beneath their Simple Plan posters. Grade: A-
—Mike Breen
PUNK ROCK QUARTET the Beatings seems to be following in the footsteps of fellow Massachusetts band the Pixies. In addition to their obvious sonic similarities, both bands feature a female bassist who chimes in on vocals from time to time. The Beatings even sought out the Pixies' former engineer, Paul Q. Kolderie, to produce their latest, "Holding on to Hand Grenades."
The Beatings often sound like a throwback to a lot of pre-'90s college alt-rock, with the high volume assault of Husker Du and even the monotone growl of Joy Division's Ian Curtis, but they're equally reminiscent of the more recent sounds coming from Chapel Hill, N.C.'s Merge Records. Along with the controlled Superchunk-ness of "Burn Down the Jungle," the Beatings' more melodic singing (such as the jubilant male/female vocals at the end of "Stockholm Syndrome Relapse") recall last year's darlings, the Arcade Fire.
But rather than being held back by such similarities, the Beatings push beyond them. Nestled between two brief transitional instrumentals is the album's most striking song, "Pennsyltuckey," in which Erin Dalbec's husky coo and restrained bass lines grow into a catchy, rambunctious rocker. That vibrant energy and carefree post-punk zeal move the Beatings well past their more prominent influences.
—Catherine Lewis
The legacy of Boston post-punk legends Mission of Burma is alive and well in The Beatings, a Brooklyn-by-way-of-Beantown quartet that deals in snarling guitars and propulsive drumming. Melodic, melancholy vocals trade off evenly between the avuncular baritone of Tony Skalicky and the strangled-cat yelp of Frank Black sound-alike Eldridge Rodriguez, with a smattering of bassist Erin Dalbec near disc's end.
Producer Paul Kolderie (Radiohead, Sebadoh, Buffalo Tom) imparts curious grit and analog-warmth on stompers like "This City Is Killing Me" and "Upstate Flashbacks," two tracks on which drummer Dennis Grabowski's bone-shattering beats have never sounded better. "Holding on to Hand Grenades" leaves you with the feeling that The Beatings are ready to annihilate the world's post-punk poseurs, even if they have to do it with a heavy heart.
—John Wenzel
It's not a backhanded compliment to call the Beatings a pure punk throwback. If there's nothing on HOTHG that constitutes a great leap forward for a band that's already proven its revivalist hardcore chops, it's still a pretty good record. Less weird than its predecessors (in particular. 2003's flawless HPMA), Holding finds the Boston quartet chugging through a generous hour of melodic, hook-driven power punk. Only a smattering of brief instrumentals hint at the Beatings' jokey side, but their noisy egghead leanings are on full, glorious display throughout, especially when bassist Erin Dalbec sings lead on the swagger-heavy Scorched Earth Policy and towering Pennsyltuckey (the album's standout track). Cleanly produced and carefully performed, the music on Holding matches the title; you feel the band holding back a bit, as if it wasn't ready to lob the pineapple just yet. But as a likeable sampling of catchy songcraft, it'll do until the Beatings feel comfortable enough to pull the pin.
—Eric Waggoner
Alert fans of my writing (all six of you) may recall that back in November, I reviewed an EP by the New England-based quintet [sic] The Beatings titled If Not Now, Then When?.
The band are now set to release their second full-length, Holding On To Hand Grenades, later in January, and everything I said about the advance single is true once again. In that piece, I wrote:
It is not damning with faint praise to say that the Beatings remind me of Mission of Burma; only rarely can a band pursue Burma's post-punk ideal of brittle soundscapes replete with feedback, scratchy guitars, and dry vocals and have it sound any good. Usually such bands just sound like they're ripping off Burma with a little Pixies on the side. But the Beatings have managed the rare trick of appropriating some of the astringent, hyperintelligent sound invented by Mission of Burma but making it sound human, intimate, and alive in a way that Burma never could.
But the Beatings aren't a tribute band. Although they do wear their influences on their sleeves (touches of Radiohead, Pixies, Sonic Youth, and giant helpings of Husker Du is what I'm hearing), this is to be expected for a relatively young band working in a close-knit genre looming with giants. It is really, really hard to find your own voice and write original songs (I should know... I've been trying (and failing) for fifteen years), but four(ish) short years into their career, The Beatings sound most like... themselves.
If greater success eludes The Beatings with the release of Hand Grenades then there is no justice in the world. On Hand Grenade the band combine the spiky astringecy of their biggest influences with a deft melodic sense that makes their best songs refreshingly sweet and tart at the same time. Every song on the album is better than those on their previous EP, suggesting that they are growing quickly as songwriters and arrangers.
Like many of the recent generation of indie rock bands, The Beatings thrive on tension. The Pixies' signature loud-soft dynamic makes up a large part of their DNA, but they add new dimensions to this by-now routine strategy by adding Sonic Youth-style sheets of noise and by using three singers, one male with a brittle monotone that can burst into melodic (almost-)screaming, one male with a high and thin voice, and an occasional contribution from bassist Erin Dalbec who (in the best Kim Deal/Kim Gordon tradition) acts as a burst of sunshine over the grey-blue musical landscapes.
Guitarists Tony Skalicky and E.R. interweave their turbulent guitar lines over powerful drumming from Dennis Grabowski. All bassist Dalbec has to do with so much going on is add drive and punch to Grabowski's drumming; that she is able to add harmonic interest is just icing on the cake. The muscular sound drives the fast songs and keeps the slow ones moving along, and the band create gorgeous textures to go with the turbulent rhythms. I don't think I've ever heard a band before who could sound like Public Image Ltd. and Galaxie 500 at the same time, but I'm glad to have had the chance.
Highlights on Holding On To Hand Grenades include the stately and noisy "Upstate Flashbacks," the driving hookiness of "Feel Good Ending," the chilly resignation of "Stockholm Syndrome Relapse," and the cute little weird vignettes like "Oh Shit, My Phaser's Jammed" and the acoustic "Harry's Wild Ride." The album does peter out a bit toward the end, stumbling with "Pennsyltuckey" and "Villains," which simply go on too long, and "False Positive," which mainly suffers for sounding like a couple songs sequenced before it. Still, out of sixteen songs a maximum of three or four could be considered as filler - an impressive ratio by any standard.
It's not as if Boston's punk tradition needed saving, and it's not as if The Beatings need their talent affirmed by comparison with the greats of that scene, but it's true: if ever the world needed an heir to Mission of Burma, Galaxie 500, The Pixies and so on, The Beatings are it, and on their own terms. Holding On To Hand Grenades is an impressively self-assured statement of purpose that should be the Beatings' entry to the World of Bigger And Better Things.
—John Owen
File this one in the "Don't Judge A Book By It's Cover" section. Judging by the title of this album, its cover art and song titles like "Oh Shit, My Phaser's Jammed," you'd think The Beatings were a third-rate nu-metal band. What a pleasant surprise it was to find out that the Boston-based band's second album recalls the dramatic alt.rock of the '80s and the jubilant guitars of '90s indie rock --- imagine Ian Curtis fronting Superchunk. While their influences provide a warm familiarity, The Beatings are also fresh enough to avoid sounding exactly like anyone else. By alternating singers (both male and female) and moving between up-tempo songs and brooding numbers, Holding On To Hand Grenades is a surprise treat.
—Elizabeth Chorney-Booth
They'll take your soul if you let them / But don't you / Let them." That has to be one of my favorite lyrical phrases, bless my 70s soft-spot heart. And though it may seem strange to relate Carole King to a Boston punk/rock band, and stranger still, to a band named the Beatings --- when all is universal in good songs, and I am strange, it works here. Holding on to Hand Grenades speaks of that common struggle --- dealing with a chilly world that seems far too bent on scratching the blue from our skies. And though at times we are helpless to find the streaks of black that numb hands leave behind, it's about resisting the descent into a colorless place. For the Beatings, this resistance emerges less in acoustic folksy murmurs and way more into balls-out, bad-ass screaming. But that's different strokes, I guess.
To start, "A Responsible Person" paints the everyday burdens that bear weight on our shoulders, yet in its melodic energy, assumes these clouds aren't so heavy they can't be lifted: "I'm gonna put in my time / tomorrow / I'm gonna make up my mind / tomorrow / and put myself together / if I can." Though we get to a place where we feel up and ready for change, sometimes a breath or two is necessary. More often still, it seems all too easy to place these hopes within an infinite number of "tomorrows." But as the Beatings bring to mind, it's worth the troubling shot.
True, sometimes what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger---but what about when it is killing you? As for that idea, "This City Is Killing me" really hits home. At the end of beat-by-the city phrases, we get electric chair-elicited bursts of "Fight ! Fight! Fight!" that sound as if the singer (there are three of them, so your guess is as good as mine) were whipping his throat at the end of a rubber band. In a word: Amazing. Pure fed-up feeling always does well to get the meaning across, and the Beatings have plenty of it.
At points throughout the album, the vocals can get Interpol-ish, but that's just a song or two up for skips. As for the rest, things maintain an interesting momentum. For bonus pleasure, there are a few instrumental interludes thrown into the batch: "Don't Flake Now" has to be the quintessential neurotic phrase we hopefuls spin in our heads, especially when we find someone as charming as these bright acoustic strings and twinkly pianos. It's somewhat of an unexpected, blissful minute of quiet beauty among the chaos. (I knew they had a little Carole in 'em.)
"Remedial Math Rock" brings up the first in-your-silly-face, unrelenting song on the album, and its energy is more than welcomed. This is definitely the Beatings at their best. "Stockholm Syndrome Relapse" has a weirder, noir-ish vibe, with inserts of girlish whispers from bassist Erin Dalbec that call to mind French prostitutes cooing into rotary phones. While that has its perks, the Beatings are far better when they ante up the psychosis, and their songs come to maddening life. Maybe not so mad at life, just a bit perturbed enough to scream really fucking loud about it.
—Sue Bell
Since the late nineties, Boston's The Beatings have forged a path of sonically-fueled independent rock, rooted deeply in D.I.Y ethics. On Holding on to Hand Grenades, their second full length and fifth overall release on their own label, Midriff Records, The Beatings, along with the well-respected indie producer Paul Q. Kolderie, continue to create incisively coarse, guitar-driven rock. By dipping into a harmonious post-punk fondue of monotone vocal wails and catchy bottom heavy melodies, The Beatings shine most brightly on the almost radio-friendly "Upstate Flashbacks," or on the flipside with the screeching angst of "Remedial Math Rock." The Beatings follow in the footsteps of fellow Massachusetts rock legend The Pixies, with a tip of the hat to NYC art noise legend Sonic Youth. Holding on to Hand Grenades, from its instrumental opener "Intro to a Responsible Person" to the nearly seven-minute opus of closing track "Villains," is yet again proof positive that these three gentleman and one women are proud torch-bearers of Boston's underground music scene.
—Jim Ansourian
Ahhh... the good old days of Boston. The days when you could stroll down to the Rat and see a full slate of bands, each with their own team colors, play noisy post-rock anthems deep into the Kenmore Square night.
Too bad I wasn't there. By the time I got to Boston the Rathskellar was long gone and Kenmore Square was undergoing its own miniDisneyfication into Main Street, USA at the hands of developers gone starry-eyed on the fumes of appreciating real estate. Galaxie 500 had bifurcated into Luna and Damon & Naomi (whom you sometimes see around, hi guys!). Mission of Burma (who have since reformed)had flamed out and one of its members was a public television producer. Dinosaur, Jr. had gotten fat, old, and deaf and spun into oblivion. The Pixies were about to get back together (via fax machine, I suppose?) to cash in on their legacy. Fort Apache studios, long the haven and home to whatever the Boston Sound was supposed to be, packed up and moved to a rural river town in Vermont. Boston still has a scene, but most of the bands that come out of it fail to move me like a hometown band should.
But now there's the Beatings coming across my radar. Produced by Paul Q. Kolderie and engineered by Boston stalwart Tim Shea (of The Black Helicopter), the Beatings have a new five-song EP, If Not Now, Then When? that does move me, right down to the bottom of my aging, curmudgeonly, candy apple grey heart. It is not damning with faint praise to say that the Beatings remind me of Mission of Burma; only rarely can a band pursue Burma's post-punk ideal of brittle soundscapes replete with feedback, scratchy guitars, and dry vocals and have it sound any good; usually such bands just sound like they're ripping off Burma with a little Pixies on the side. But the Beatings have managed the rare trick of appropriating some of the astringent, hyperintelligent sound invented by Mission of Burma but making it sound human, intimate, and alive in a way that Burma never could.
But the Beatings aren't a tribute band. Although they do wear their influences on their sleeves (touches of Radiohead, Pixies, Sonic Youth, and giant helpings of Husker Du are what I'm hearing), this is to be expected for a relatively young band working in a close-knit genre looming with giants. It is really, really hard to find your own voice and write original songs (I should know... I've been trying (and failing) for fifteen years), but four(ish) short years into their career, The Beatings sound most like... themselves.
If Not Now, Then When? features five tracks (two from their upcoming album, two outtakes, and the eponymous single) that are for the most part lovely, demanding, and richly textured. The Beatings are at their best on the album cuts: the headspinningly noisy "Feel Good Ending" and "Stockholm Syndrome Relapse," each of which manage the trick of being simultaneously moody, catchy, and new-sounding. The two outtakes are outtake-worthy, neither great nor disposable, which is a lot more than I could say for most single-padding material I've heard.
The most interesting song, anthropologically speaking, is the title track "If Not Now, Then When?" A longtime live staple, it is a soft-loud raveup in the tradition of the Pixies complete with screaming vocals and dissonant guitars . Although decent enough, it is mainly valuable for showing how far the band have come in getting the arty-indie-edgy-for-edgy's-sake thing out of their system.
Given that the newest songs on If Not Now, Then When? are the best, I await this winter's release of their new full length(tentatively titled Holding On To Hand Grenades with 'bated breath. These kids could soon be really, really great.
—John Owen
It really sucks when a band sends you a copy of their new record and you somehow misplace it in your office (which, in your defense, also contains almost 2000 other CD mailers). It sucks even more when the band cheerfully sends you another copy of the record, and you lose that one too. And it really, seriously uber-sucks when you finally give up on physical media, download MP3s of the record, crank 'em up in the car on the way to work and realize that you absolutely love the record -- and that you really should have spent the last few months telling people about it.
Well, better safe than sorry.
The record in question, obviously, is If Not Now, Then When? -- a ferocious five-song barrage that'll take you back to the days when "post-punk" was an era, not a record store section. Remember how magical it was twenty-odd years ago, when the first few punk bands climbed unsteadily out of the three-chord primordial soup, discovered more complex songwriting techniques and ultimately revived an ancient art known as "singing"? The Beatings don't seem old enough to remember that heady era, but it's clear that someone raised them right -- that, or they studied like mad. Whatever its source, their knowledge pays off big time in rip-roaring opener "Feel Good Ending": it's the best song Husker Du and Mission of Burma never wrote. For a measure or two, the stabbing lead guitar line hints at minor key doom 'n' gloom, but that mood is quickly dispelled by a rollicking, ramshackle melody, full of subtle melodic shifts and deep-running currents. Drummer Dennis Grabowski pummels his kit like a Mega-Millions lottery winner who feels like flaunting his riches and has just been informed that crash cymbal hits cost ten bucks each. The vocalist -- guitarists Tony Skalicky and Eldridge Rodriguez both sing, but I'm guessing this is Skalicky -- barrels through his lyrics with sardonic glee, slamming into his couplets with a sort of wide-eyed melodic fury. This is the sort of song that makes previously non-musical people buy guitars and drum kits and give that "rock" thing a go.
"Stockholm Syndrome Relapse" is an entirely different animal. If the title alone isn't enough to hook you (kids, look it up!), the moody midtempo groove and subtle string accents should do the trick, Those falsetto vocals may be a hard sell, but Erin Dalbec's sexy whispers balance the equation. People who want to hear a little Interpol in the chorus will do so -- let them -- but when Dalbec joins in later in the song, the effect is more Pixies than Paul Banks... thank heaven.
At first, "Pretty Faces" shows signs of being the EP's dud, settling into a comfortable, borderline-pastoral guitar figure. Then, perhaps a minute in, Grabowski jacks up the tempo; suddenly the song is much faster than it needs to be, unless... Yep, something else is coming -- a noisy, billowing electric counterpoint that shoots its tendrils off in every direction. From there, "Pretty Faces" effectively dissects the slow/quick/slow and loud/quiet/loud dynamics, first flowing energetically into each line, then ebbing again in time for the punctuation, leaving little noisy bits of sonic flotsam swirling through the mix.
By the time you reach "All Dead Heroes", you'll wonder if the band is deliberately fucking with your expectations, The song's harrowing forty-second percussion intro/classic rock lead-in all but promises an over-caffeinated "Bela Lugosi's Dead", but delivers a pop anthem in its place. It's a noisy pop anthem, and Grabowski gets his usual kit-punishing workout, but you won't be over your skis here unless you're scared of ride cymbal.
The EP closes with its title track, a previously unrecorded staple of the Beatings' live set, and a timely reminder of how much the group has evolved. Once you get beyond the intro's comparatively simplistic melody and unexpectedly venomous lyrics, you'll be tossed into a caustic, blustery pop song. Even here, the band's fierce energy and melodic sensibilities shine through, but it's a rougher package, tarted up with reverb and screamy vocals. Of course, there's nothing wrong with cutting loose -- and even at their most overtly earnest and youthful, The Beatings never sink to abrasive emo-isms -- but when the EP's other songs achieve such a stylish mix of polish and passion, it's hard not to perceive "If Not Now, Then When?" as a lesser work. You'll want to focus on "Feel Good Ending", "Stockholm Syndrome Relapse" and the others -- they embrace post-punk's exploratory zeal without getting wrapped up in the handful of buzz-traits that helped transform it into a trendy cipher. You may not hear If Not Now, Then When in your favorite nightclub or overpriced clothing store, but you'll hear it on your stereo two years from now, when the cut-out bins are full of Bravery and Bloc Party CDs.
I'm going to end this review by giving you the message I can't give to my six-months-ago self: get off your ass and find this EP now. The Beatings are prepping a full-length for late this year/early next year, and if it fulfills If Not Now's promise, you're going to be hearing a lot more about them. Why not get there first?
Epilogue: Two days after writing this review, I found the CD.
—George Zahora
For those of you who've been asleep for the last two years, we'd like to confirm: the 80s are back. And we don't mean the shoulder-padded Spandau Ballet variety - it seems we were only ever one Pixies reunion and a Gang Of Four revival away from the wholesale resurrection of the Alternative 80s all along. So, with regards to The Beatings, we'll get those nods to the Pixies and their ilk out of the way early, if only because it's not quite fair and not quite accurate.
Boston's The Beatings, as opposed to the punky UK band of the same name, are the real deal (as opposed to the real Deal), having been ploughing this discordant alt noise-pop furrow for a fair few years. They're not the bandwagon-jumping Johnny-come-latelys you might have pegged them for. If Not Now, Then When?, the band's latest self-released offering on their Midriff Records label, is a 5-track prelude to forthcoming second album, Holding On To Handgrenades, scheduled for early next year.
Opener "Feel Good Ending" is a take-no-prisoners turbo-charged stomp-rocker, and catchy as hell with it, that blasts its way to a climactic drum frenzy. "Stockholm Syndrome Relapse", the other cut from the new album, starts off seductively with a breathy, whispered female vocal and laid-back bass groove, before breaking out into an assured shouty dirge-fest.
Perhaps the most alt-radio-friendly of the tracks, "All Dead Heroes" is exactly the kind of thing that'll have the Kids in a froth of cider-and-black induced pogoing down the local indie disco. Rammed full of jaunty upbeat bass hooks, it's all that your correspondent can do to stop himself grabbing a pair of Converse and hitting the town.
The EP's title track, either the weakest or least accessible (depending on how you see it) of the five, while a decent piece of angsty scream-rock, fails to hit the spot in quite the same way. Still, at a 4/5 hit-rate, The Beatings are well above the International Meatloaf Threshold Of Acceptability of 66% ("Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad", natch).
In the case of If Not Now, Then When?, take some advice: if you can't take a Beating, you might need a hammering. You heard.
—Greg Smythe
Don't worry, the Beatings aren't half as ruthless as their name might imply. This doesn't mean that they don't know how to kick up a racket and create daring excursions in noise that send their guitars into swirling love-damaged dream-rock. What's truly amazing is how they manage to make their patented brand of emotional catharsis sound so restrained and downright controlled. Obviously, they're not the first band to utilize feedback and overdrive as an instrument, let alone the first band from Boston to take a crack at this approach (Pixies and Mission of Burma spring to mind), but very few other bands are able to tame this beast in such a natural and effortless sounding way. There's no reason to question their intentions as they grab a melody and run with it with such enthusiasm that everything else, from squabbling guitar runs, strained vocals, moaning note bends, and delicate whispers, all fall right into place.
The only complaint is how short this release is. Even that issue is quickly addressed: this five-song EP is designed to whet our pallet before the full-length. Two songs on the EP are from the forthcoming album, two are outtakes, and the title track, "If Not Now, Then When?" is a previously unreleased staple of their live set. If Not Now, Then When? kicks off with a forward charging rocker, "Feel Good Ending" that gets the blood pumping in a way any proper album opener should. The euphoric rush of the deliberate and dedicated rhythm section give non-stop momentum to the crunching jangle and chaotic guitar work, that it's nearly impossible to tell where the Beatings will be headed next. What they do is head into an ethereal violin and chant number, "Stockholm Syndrome Relapse," that showcases the delicately unhinged vocals of Erin Dalbec and results in sounding like a My Bloody Valentine song that's been dug out from under thirty overdubs. The rest of the songs fall some where in-between the styles of these two stand-out tracks; dreamy melodies, soaring guitar-noise, art rock perfection.
— Denez McAdoo
This EP grows on the brain like a fungus; slowly, but pervasively working its way into your synapses. It would help if the CD had instructions ala the Stones Let it Bleed, roughly paraphrased: "This record should be played REALLY FUCKING LOUD."
"Feel Good Ending" opens the disc like the bastard child of Volcano Suns and Versus, a relentless driving force that captures The Beatings' live energy. "Stockholm Syndrome Relapse" easily a candidate for local song of the year, is a brilliant, smoldering study in slowly building (not so) quiet intensity, and the best track here. Fans of the Verlaine/Lloyd school of guitar interfacing will thoroughly enjoy "Pretty Faces". "All Dead Heroes" starts off sounding like the ghost of a lost track off of Joy Division's posthumous "Still" before settling into a dark, catchy groove. The title track, part schoolyard-rhyme ditty and aggro-screamer with wonderfully charming lyrical matter, closes the CD. Kudos to engineer Tim Shea and producer Paul Kolderie for the warm, thick tones that jump out of the speakers (again, the louder this is played, the better).
— Chris Pearson
It's a specific breed of monster that plays in a band with a name like The Beatings...The Beatings have no such trouble with incongruity, as Eldridge Rodriguez, Tony Skalicky, Erin Dalbec and Dennis Grabowski have been abusing and defiling Bostonians' eardrums for years now. Their 2002 full-length, Italiano, garnered pole-smoking from the Village Voice to the Washington Post, and everybody in between. This record, a loud 22-minute EP, is meant to satiate the rabid masses' clamor for fresh Beatings, while final preparations are made for a winter 2005 LP. If their latest, If Not Now, When?, is any indication, winter can't get here quickly enough. The Beatings come out swinging, with Rodriguez snarling, "When the money runs out and the sun comes out, that's when the guns come out" over driving guitar riffs and machine-gun drumrolls on "Feel Good Ending." "Pretty Faces" and "All Dead Heroes" are similarly righteous, while the title track, a longtime live staple, is a terrific fuck-you anthem. There's nothing contrived or gimmicky about this band or their music; it's honest, unpretentious and all-too rare.
— Paul McMorrow
Those of us with Bostalgia can't help but hear the Beatings and recall the days when female bass players roamed every stage, when J Mascis was the man to plunder and when the road to glory ran through Fort Apache. The tagline above the latest from these contemporary Boston darlings is "Loud Frantic Quartet Takes Horse Tranquilizers", and the sound-bite version of the subsequent news item reads: "Silkworm Tupelo". Only the jokey "Transvestite Bar" fails to intrigue, and even it offers a fantastic organ sway. The band's recipe (few changes plus screaming finale equals song) grates a tad, but the bummercore "These Will Be the Old Days Someday" is thankfully spared. The Beatings are one ingredient (stronger production) away from continental potential.
— William Bowers
Any indie rock band calling Boston, MA home home inevitably has Pixies dust pumping through its veins. The Beatings have never been an exception, until now...building on the post-punk framework, The Beatings have since grown exponentially, honing their songwriting skills to razor sharpness. 'Transvestite Bar' is a definite highlight and the band's most daring composition to date. A simple banjo and organ begin the seven-minute journey through a late "when the bars are closed/ and I can't get to sleep in my pantyhose." The song slowly fades beneath guitars and a baritone backup chorus, perfectly placing the listener's mind in the bar with the band. The final two songs, however, hit the hardest. The amazing 'Sick Day' sounds like a rough-around-the-edges Interpol; the two-and-a-half minutes of whirling guitars and intense shouted vocals will bring shivers. Closing things out is "These Will Be the Old Days Someday," a somber heartbreaker and the perfect autumnal end to a unique (and far too short) record. "As the sceneries change, you remain the same" is one haunting lyric. The Beatings, however, have changed. This is a very good thing.
— Michael Wehunt
Previously dubbed scream rock, post-punk, and noise pop as evidenced by their 2001 demo EP 6Hz and 2002's Italiano, Boston's the Beatings add slowcore to their repertoire with the advent of The Heart, the Product, the Machine and the Asshole. With their deep warbles and sluggish axes, lead singers and guitarists Tony Skalicky and Eldridge Rodriguez recall Idaho on the commanding opener, "American Standard," and a twang-tinged exercise in desperation known as "Organ Donor Regrets." The whispering intricacies of "These Will Be the Old Days Someday" make the midtempo "This Year" --- sung by bassist Erin Dalbec --- seem downright rollicking. But without question, it's the clever, cross-dressing lament "Transvestite Bar" that steals the show on an EP that finds the Beatings punching through another rock style with mad skills.
—John D. Luerssen
This scrappy Boston quartet returns with a fistful of mid-tempo tunes and barroom laments masquerading as an EP. At over 30 minutes, The Heart, the Product, the Machine and the Asshole (reportedly named after the respective members' nicknames) is a meaty effort that departs a bit from the melodic noise-rock of last year's Italiano, but manages to make an impression in its own right. Though it falls short of showcasing what they're truly capable of, The Heart... has a restrained confidence that belies The Beatings' vigorous live act. The lyrics are top notch, slathering mildly sarcastic anger over spare sentiments, and the performances are typically impassioned but never fussed-over. The EP exudes a stuffy-nosed calm before the storm (bristling with kinetic energy), and may end up being the most subdued of the band's efforts.
"This Year" features rubbery electric guitars and "Sick Day" (which starts with someone taking a piss) probably owns in concert, with Eldrige Rodriguez's Frank Black-in-a-bottle vocals floating over echoey gits. Still, the EP is a step in a subtler direction. Their noisier tendencies in check, The Heart... ends with "These Will Be Old Days Someday," which has a late-Saturday-and-you're-finally-sober feel, avoiding indulgent indie melancholy with patient but insistent notes and matter-of-fact vocals. Maybe it's the quickie mi-fi production, or the dearth of out-and-out bruisers, but The Heart... sounds like a band maturing into something unmistakably more diverse and heartfelt.
— John Wenzel
Get this CD and put it in your car stereo, drive around alone, sing along really loud. Put it on while you get ready for the big date. Getting home way too blasted in the early morning? No problem, try The Beatings while you stare at the spinning ceiling. If you just got dumped, pour another whiskey, and crank the last song, "These Days Will Be the Old Days Someday."
The Beatings are the real deal, making the kind of uninhibited songwriting and performing that bands struggle for, but few ever actually achieve. If they can't hit the notes, they shout them out anyway. The playing is unselfish and deceptively basic, traditional, but not to the extent of being uncreative. They have big swaying anthems ("Sick Day"), quirky, sharp pop ("This Year"), and even dark, disturbing laments ("Organ Donor Regrets") that would make Billy Childish proud. There's some winking and shrugging when they scream about how "the transvestite bar got the best of them (me)," but then again, maybe there's not.
Here's a brief description of the music itself . . . Throughout the six songs here, the ingredients rarely (though they do on occasion) stray from the standard garage band set up. There's dirty guitars, a thick, quarter note-happy bass, and a hard hit drum kit that let's you know what part of your body to nod, tap, or shake. The voice that most often comes through is a bassy, though surprisingly expressive instrument, something that calls to a more vocally talented Calvin Johnson. This is the easy defining characteristic for The Beatings. They're also fond of the "three chords and the truth" approach, but are no means limited to it. "Transvestite Bar," a seven-minute trek through the geography of a very strange evening, sports a banjo and organ, giving something of a rootsy melancholy to its minor meanderings, while "Sick Day," lead by the voice of the female bass player, offers up a welcome break about half way through the somewhat gloomy EP.
About the only negative thing that could be said about the record is that the opener, "American Standard," is a more sullen, slowed-down theft of Pavement's famous "Summer Babe," and the closer, maybe the favorite off the whole disk, "These Will Be the Old Days Someday," appears to be heavily influenced by the sad and sweet tunefulness of Modest Mouse's earlier work. Even this though is easily overlooked because of the personal stamp The Beatings put on the songs, and after a few listens, the comparisons fall off the back of the truck. This is one of the best finds in a long time. Check them out.
— Hutch Hill
This follow-up to the Beatings' superb 2001 debut Italiano delivers more driving post-rock. The male vocals switch from low monotones over angular guitar lines to a frenzied shriek a la Pixies-era Frank Black. Adding a female element to the vocal mix, bassist Erin Dalbec leads "This Year," a track reminiscent of Kelly Green and the late great PEE. Personally, I can't get enough of that male/female combo on the mic. The must-hear "Transvestite Bar" careens over seven minutes, a jumble of tongue-in-cheek lyrics anchored by the chorus: "When it's late at night the bars are closed/and I can't go to sleep in my pantyhose/transvestite bar's got the best of me." Building to a larynx-ripping scream over a basso "man chorus" (that's what it's called in the liner notes), the song ends in a golden wash of organ. In six songs, this EP covers a wide range indicative of the Beatings' many influences, culminating in an utterly original talent.
— Scott Sand
FIFTH BEST ALBUM OF 2002 | "At its highest level, rock
and roll has a visceral energy matched by intellectual prowess. This is rock as art and not just
fun. The Beatings, a four-piece band that calls both Brooklyn and Boston home, seems to hit this
highest standard on its recently released CD "Italiano." Hard-rocking it has less in common with
today's indie bands than it does with groups like Husker Du and the Ass Ponys. Which means it's a
band that seems unconcerned with trying to fit into a certain niche and focuses instead on
creating a riveting, propulsive and ever-changing sound."
— Joe Heim
"Definitely one of the best CDs I got to hear in a while. I heard these guys and girl on Boston's 89.3 on the way to work and
forgot the named of the band. Needless to say, I hear this rocking-out song ("Twins") with this
repeating guitar squelching noise, and I was more than psyched. The song has that catchiness
accompanied by an embracing noise, sort of like Husker Du or Superchunk. That song alone has the
ability to make you just go and grab your guitar (air or otherwise) and jam along, and it only gets
better from there. "New Destroyer" is a truly depressing song, but you can't help but bob your
head to it. "Addicted to Freaks" brings the rock back with a great singing/screaming duet.
Musically, The Beatings change direction multiple times, but there's a real sense of character to
the music that keeps welcoming you back. You can call it "postpunk", you can call it "aggro, indie
rock", hell, call it whatever you want. Just make sure the word "great" is in there. Italiano is a
keeper."
— Dana Morse
"These guys (and girl)
fucking rock! But then again, I'm a sucker for anything Mission of Burma/Husker
Du/Pixies-inspired. Their recently released full-length, Italiano, is their best effort yet, and
leaves no question as to whether the future looks bright for this Boston four-piece --- it could
be blinding. Request "Heavy Metal" --- it'll knock your socks off."
— Ken Switzer
"By design as much as by
chance, the Beatings have made a chaotic recording in the spirit of post-punk Minnesota outfits.
It begins, surprisingly, over tinkling keyboards, as bassist/vocalist Erin Dalbec introduces the
band who might at this very minute be wrecking a club in your home town. The sweetness ends with
"Twins", a Bob Mould song in all but name, and then the band hits its peak. "How Many Times Can
You Say Goodbye to the Same Person?" is an immediate classic, with screaming pleas, nerve-wracked
guitars and a less-than-comforting lyrical strangeness ("I thought you'd never leave / The coffin
came out and you begged to stay"). The actual lyrical content ("Big winds blow through empty
caverns") does not suggest the song's visceral power, because it's the group's energy that drives
everything home. They are as juvenile and reckless as the Replacements (drunk before cops in
Stink), with music that will please punkers one moment, emo types the next, and girl group
fanatics every time the sweet-voiced Dalbec takes center stage. Though Dalbec's songs are such an
anomaly that they throw me off course, I'm delighted that her songs aren't relegated to side
projects. The band's strongest appeal, in fact, is to always come across as if they are performing
whatever they damn well want. They follow Dalbec's new wave chic with a dirge ("I Don't Know the
Truth") that's Joy Division 101, then follow a New Day Rising-like number with a plaintive
acoustic track ("Stock Car Driver's Lament"). Violins enter "Refueling Vehicles", suggesting the
group's odd mix of material has an obscure Mekons influence, and the record ends with frivolity
("Wow, heavy metal / Torture for my soul") and a heap of screams and pain ("Bloated and
Disabled"). If you look to rock for cathartic release, it's songs like "Bloated" ("You try killing
yourself slowly...Making it slow so no one can tell") and "How Many Times" that make this disc
essential. Aspiring rockers might find the group more vital for proving that you can have
inconsequential things to say, yet fool everyone with powerpacked performances and middle-fingered
variations. Now do yourself a favor: see The Beatings in concert and watch them revive the spirit
of rock."
— Theodore Defosse
"Boston's The Beatings have
made a lot of noise in their short history. Last year's "6hz" EP kicked out the jams with charming
and shaky confidence, garnering comparisons to the Pixies, Guided by Voices and other indie
royalty. "Italiano" is their first full length, and if it's any indication of the band's future, I
would put on some sunglasses. The songs are all over the map in terms of style, but rarely sound
derivative. "How Many Times Can You Say Goodbye to the Same Person?" ends with clever rhythmic
conceit, subtly slowing the Frank Black-esque vocals and loping drums to a snail's pace by song's
end. "Nothing" is punk pop at its best, with bassist Erin Dalbec sounding like a lo-fi Veruca Salt
or harder-edged Velocity Girl. "The Art of Leaving" is the best mostly-instrumental song I've
heard in years, simultaneously intuitive, bittersweet and brooding. There's really nothing you
could find to complain about on this album, except that there isn't more of it. The Beatings are
like that friend that everyone should have. They're funny, smart and perpetually in a state of
kicking your ass."
— John Wenzel
"Expecting a punk band and not
getting one, here, the first song starts out with a very mellow intro and Michael Stipe-vocals
that explode into a noisy rock song that seems more tied to the "alternative" of the early '80s
than anything that would go with the word 'beatings.' The Stipe comparison creeps in a couple more
times, bringing back memories of the days when R.E.M. would really rock out, raw and energetic.
There are hints of a Yo La Tengo-type noise, and when mellowness hits, it swirls into a dreamy
guitar mood, with the vocals just screaming over the slow drive of the rhythm. The CD ends with a
very raucous song that carries hints of early Buffalo Tom, but with the vocals almost falling
apart, hoarse and broken, but very alive."
— Marcel Feldmar
"Every so often I seem to get
bitch-slapped by a band I've never heard before. Blindly, I stumble around, asking myself, "Why
haven't I heard these guys?" So let me ask The Beatings something: What took you fuckers so long?
This Boston-based group's latest 5-song CD EP 6hz has been kicking my ass up and down for about a
month now, and it's been the most depraved, satisfying month of my life. The Beatings rely on
simple, punkish rhythms augmented by manic leads and strained (but inherently melodic) vocals. The
melodies, mind you, must be sought after, but when you find them it's not hard to do it again.
This works to a great effect on tracks like "Brighter Than Bright" and "Wring Me Out," the latter
showcasing some excellent, inventive guitar work. The best track on the EP, "Experimental Test
Monkey," would have been a classic power-pop tune in the late 80s. Its fragmented leads, assured
drums, and mournful, insistent vocals take hold of your brain harder with each listen, kinda like
that Alien pod slowly making its way into your mouth and down your throat. By the time you've
listened to this CD for a couple weeks, it's too late. Your stomach is about to explode and get
blood all over the inside of the nice clean spaceship walls. Oh well."
— John Wenzel
"Hailing from Boston, The Beatings'
recent disc may be short in quantity - it's only a five-song EP - but it's long on punchy,
three-chord melodies, variations and nuances... and very similar to The Pixies. Things start off
with "Brighter Than Bright" and a hopeless intonation of a nasally, "all dressed up, showing
everywhere you've been," that then delves into a thrashing drum accompanied by a weeping guitar
and throaty desperation, while manipulating a slight monotonous but pandemonium feel. The Beatings
carry the creative thirst throughout the album via tuneful turns, discordant guitar work, and drum
and guitar variations a la Doolittle and Surfer Rosa. Adding to the coarseness is "No Glen, It's a
School Night," with its scratchy lyrics, catchy sing-along-refrains, mild melodic shrieks, and an
outspoken bass. After approximately three minutes of silence, the pseudo-end becomes a moving,
emotional tune dealing with suppressed feelings exploding into screams. 6hz perpetrates an indie
punk reawakening prepared to jolt even the laziest person."
— Melissa Bergeron
"6 Hz's first song starts out
slowly, and rather like Modest Mouse's "Teeth like God's Shoeshine", it gradually evolves into a
punk song. It thereby conveys two distinct moods, which is one mood more than your average punk
song. Similarly, with one or two arguable exceptions, this EP is a step up from other punk EPs. At
its best moments, it seems like a modern version of Pink Floyd's Wish you were Here, as most of
the songs are themed around people who've lost their souls in their day-to-day bustle. The album
peaks on the third track, "Shark Attacks are on the Rise", as different psyche-voices intermingle
and the instruments pulsate. The Beatings have a good feel for how punk music should sound; while
their music is rarely complex, they always manage to change it before it gets boring. It might
take you a few listens to understand the lyrics...but once you do, you'll see that they're as
impressive as the music."
— Josh Kazman
"Some heavy names were dropped in
trying to get me to listen to this CD, names like Sonic Youth, Husker Du, and The Pixies. Elite
enough company to make any self-styled music critic both apprehensive and intrigued. The good news
is that The Beatings belong in that elite company, their sound having obvious roots in that
fertile, mid-to-late-'80s period of what was then called "progressive" or "new" music (before the
term "alternative rock" was coined, much less overused to the point of meaninglessness). Even
better, the band never sounds dated or derivative -- despite wearing their influences on their
sleeves, there's something fresh and new about these six songs. Perhaps it's because nobody's
making this kind of music anymore -- not even the people that were the obvious inspirations -- but
moreover, the band seems really interested in building on the base that the earlier bands provide
and taking it to the next level. So call The Beatings the heirs to the throne, and with
challenging, dissonent-yet-melodic, and impassioned songs like "Brighter Than Bright,"
"Experimental Test Monkey," and "Wring Me Out," they deserve it. An excellent EP that deserves
attention -- we could use a few more bands like The Beatings in these teen pop-dominated
days!"
— Julio Diaz
"Great indie punk, expressed as a
mix of Superchunk and the Pixies. Walls of guitar and a twitchy set of male/female vocal leads.
Plenty of distortion for all. With vox that seem for the most part like a war is being waged with
one's larynx (and the larynx isn't doing too well). At any rate, 6Hz demonstrates that the
Beatings have the potential to continue making vital music."
— Jeremy Salmon
"The name is terribly misleading, but the music isn't. Falling somewhere between Yo La Tengo, Varnaline, Mission of Burma and the
much missed Squirrel Bait, The Beatings make space and squall sounds with unexpected sharp turns
left of center. The low Viking chorus on "Shark Attacks Are On The Rise" fits surprisingly well
among its open feel. "Wring Me Out" is my personal favorite of the five songs on this
self-released CD, with a beautifully urgent vocal delivery and a nice half time break down. There
are no credits anywhere for band members, only a blurry photo under the tray card (so very indie
rock!), so I can't say who does what, except that Bob Logan (Vic Firecracker) has again done
justice as engineer on this outing. Hopefully they're as good live as they are on this disc."
— Tim Catz