New York City retro-garage rockers The Electric Mess have been active since 2007, and their motto seems to be “if it’s not broke don’t fix it.” That doesn’t preclude some general maintenance though, and their third LP House on Fire finds them operating with energy and precision. Exhibiting impressive musicianship led by loud guitar and distinct vocal flair, the Mess’ sound is instantly familiar and yet loaded with personality as they deliver an assured punch.
In the inaugural 1969 edition of the ambitious and historically significant tome Lillian Roxon’s Rock Encyclopedia (the first of its kind, and as such enduringly fascinating reading), nuzzled betwixt coverage of the United States of America and Dino Valenti, one will discover a surprisingly lengthy piece on New York’s The Vagrants.
These days The Vagrants are in large part notable as the initial band of Leslie West, the guitar slinger famous as one-third of the hard rock power-trio Mountain. But by press-time for Roxon, West was still a member of his prior hard-working regional entity, and she chose their entry to make a salient observation on a rock tendency then not specifically defined.
She cites the Vagrants as one of numerous groups serving the necessary function of bridging the gap between the highly popular and stylistically defining outfits of the period and the rock audience that supported them. The average listener had no point of contact with The Buckinghams, much less The Beatles, Beach Boys, Stones, and Dylan; Roxon cites The Vagrants as representative of a phenomenon that granted fans far easier access to the performers and by natural extension the music’s performance.
Today we recognize this trend as roughly encompassing the wave of ‘60s garage bands Roxon’s fellow rock scribe Lenny Kaye heralded on his original Nuggets 2LP (and subsequent 4CD box), but at the time of the Rock Encyclopedia’s publication, the term garage band hadn’t entered the lexicon. In its place, the author describes acts offering local versions of Beatles, Stones etc; occasionally they scored a regional, and if lucky, even nationwide hit.
It’s exactly this scenario that serves as the raison d’être of The Electric Mess, who like The Vagrants before them also hail from New York. The comparison doesn’t end there though, for a considerable amount of the Mess’ material sports the type of R&B roots that can be found in The Vagrants’ most well-known tune “Respect.”
Obviously, covering an Otis Redding composition makes the soul connection quite explicit; in the Mess’ example, with their latest effort House on Fire holding 13 originals, the relationship is not as blatant, and yet it’s still consistently felt. Much of the reason relates directly to the androgynous hurricane that is vocalist Esther Crow, her belting securing them an immediate and lasting distinctiveness.
And after three albums the band has grown enough that I’m reminded of less-celebrated but still top caliber Nuggets units like The Remains (in terms of songwriting value) and The Woolies (in regards to instrumental attack). “Better to Be Lucky than Good” opens the proceedings with a ripper, Dan Crow’s guitar meeting Esther’s voice right up front as the sturdy rhythm team of drummer Craig Rogers and bassist Derek Davidson quickly produce the requisite forceful velocity. The well-placed keyboards of Oweinama Biu add that extra ‘60s touch.
Following suit is “House on Fire,” but while the strings remain raucous and the vocals are just as swaggering, The Electric Mess continue to display a level of refinement and preciseness in their work that solidly differentiates them from the strains of much recent garage-punk activity. Rather than lo-fi scuzz, the Mess are vivid, polished (though not especially slick) and unapologetically pro in execution.
And with songs as well-constructed as the majority of what’s here, that’s cool. While House on Fire starts out strong, “She’s Got Something to Say” kicks up the quality an additional notch, as the bass/drums hit a massive groove and ride it without overwhelming the instrumental balance; Biu’s organ comes through clear in the mix, Esther’s singing lands securely in the pocket and the guitar solo is a scorcher.
On “She Got Fangs” Davidson’s bass steps to the fore, the track taking that Nuggets vibe into mild horror-rock environs with a swell Hendrix quote tossed in. And from there the Mess once again brings Washington State’s Girl Trouble to mind; “Get Me Outta the Country” is a stomper wielding an outstanding midsection and flaunting the stones to pull a fade out while the guitar is going bonkers.
Speaking of Stones, if “Get Me Outta the Country” is a stomper, “Beat Skipping Heart” struts around like a young chicken named Mick as the cut showcases Rogers’ drum fills. Furthermore, “Leavin’ Me Hangin’” finds Esther teetering on the precipice of going over the top by plunging headfirst into a steaming vat of post-Jagger faux-misogyny, though the aforementioned gender wrinkle is a reliably appealing way to evade the tiresome. The song’s wailing finale is probably House on Fire’s highpoint.
“Lemonade Man” downshifts to mid-tempo and diverts from the garage somewhat via a hefty slice of ‘70s-style street punk, with the guitar’s arena rock chutzpah complimenting Esther’s culminating Zeppelin reference. “There’s Nothing You Can Do” briefly switches to Davidson on lead vox, the tune idling at a decidedly ‘80s crossroads of retro garage and neo psychedelia as just a hint of college rock (Paisley Underground division) gets thrown in.
It wouldn’t sound a bit out of place on an old Enigma Records sampler, though it’s really during minor-key tracks such as “The Thing That Wouldn’t Leave” that The Electric Mess seem most comfortable, its humorous lyrics profiling the stone drag of acquaintances transforming into pests by overstaying their welcome (I’m sure we can all commiserate).
However, “Winding Stairs” displays their (heavy) pop side, anthemic without overstating the case (Esther is easily capable of restrained work) while also spotlighting Biu’s organ and more of Dan’s guitar wrangling. “You Never Come Around Anymore” sees them blending garage-isms and the tougher end of the late-‘70s/early-‘80s femme-fronted power pop-tinged new wave spectrum; even with a sweetly wah-wahed-out solo, they avoid totally returning to the ‘60s template.
“Every Girl Deserves a Song” saves the biggest dose of ambition for last. Extended and segmented, with everything turned up at the opening, it levels-off soon enough to offer deeper wah-wah, ringing organ tones, drug references, more robust but unruffled rhythmic thrust and Esther’s most diverse showing at the microphone.
Lillian Roxon closes her piece on The Vagrants by mentioning how certain observers of the time considered bands of their ilk as being insufficiently “serious” about the music they play (the quotes are in the original, underlining the writer’s astuteness over rock’s late-‘60s changes). Even with “There’s Nothing You Can Do,” “Winding Stairs,” and “Every Girl Deserves a Song” in their repertoire, today many will still likely hold similar feelings over The Electric Mess.
What the detractors miss is how the dynamically refined sound of the Mess transcends the parameters of simple garage revival, instead paying tribute to the eternal pleasures to be had when inspired rock ‘n’ roll luxuriates in a smaller scale. That’s House on Fire in summation. A few of these tunes may not be up to the standard set by the disc’s best moments, and things might run just a smidge too long, but this is still The Electric Mess’ finest record so far.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B+
