Obits have been part of the Sub Pop roster since 2009. Prior to 2013 they assembled two pretty good LPs and a few very strong 45s, but with their new full-length Bed & Bugs, they’ve completed a major leap forward. It’s got the band’s sharpest tunes yet, finds Rick Froberg’s vocal presence growing like weeds in an untended garden, and even holds a couple of unusual but welcome stylistic developments. Need I say it’s their best record thus far?
Before forming Obits, guitarist/vocalist Rick Froberg was in Hot Snakes. Prior to that he and fellow Hot Snakes member Jon Reis (he of Rocket From the Crypt) played in Drive Like Jehu, one of the bigger deals in the early ‘90s wave of post hardcore activity. And in the second half of the ’80s he and Reis first got their thing together as part of the early West Coast (specifically, San Diego) post-HC outfit Pitchfork.
So Froberg has a few decades of experience under his belt. Likewise, fellow Obits guitarist/vocalist Sohrab Habibion helped form Edsel, a long-serving mainstay in the Washington, DC rock scene that spans all the way back to 1988, and drummer Scott Gursky was a former member of a band called Shortstack. Adding bassist Greg Simpson, they self-released their debut 7-inch “One Cross Apiece” b/w “Put It in Writing” in 2008 on the Stint label. Around the same time they signed to Sub Pop, and the imprint’s remained their home since.
That 45 and the ensuing first album, ‘09’s I Blame You, are tough hunks of indie rock spawned garage punk delivered by older, wiser men. Those records avoided the flashiness of some other indie bred mavens of the garage, and it also lacked the unchecked youthfulness that also gets associated with the form. Instead, they plunged neck-deep into the realms of sturdy songwriting, wedding those tunes to a fully fleshed out band approach that was representative of their status as scene vets.
The two cuts from the 7-inch and the dozen that shaped I Blame You heralded a very worthy new group, but while the music provided a consistent kick, at this point Obits fell a bit short of top tier. Their 2011 follow-up Moody, Standard and Poor nudged them closer, partially because its twelve tracks held even sharper, leaner songsmithing, with many of the tunes more concise than those found on their debut.
What sprang loud and clear from the second slab was that Obits remained dedicated to the combination of straightforward rocking and intelligent presentation. While Moody, Standard and Poor was far from groundbreaking, it was just as far from rudimentary, and the band wielded a personal sound that was quickly recognizable. Subsequent to the album’s recording Gursky departed Obits, with his spot filled by former Girl Against Boys drummer Alexis Fleisig.
Last year they knocked out a pair of 7-inches. First came a truly nifty covers 45, “Let Me Dream if I Want To” (from classy first generation CBGBs rockers Mink Deville) b/w “The City is Dead” (originally by early Belgian punk rippers The Kids) for Sub Pop. A few months later the blistering “Refund” b/w “Suez Canal” appeared on the Spanish label La Castanya, a disc released to coincide with a tour of Spain.
And while that’s only four songs, 2012 still shaped up as a very good year for Obits. Bluntly, the 7-inch is a very good fit for the group, though that assessment shouldn’t be taken as a knock on their prior albums, both of which, if not classic, did a far better than average job of translating a punk derived attack to the grooves of long-playing vinyl.
In a manner similar to Portland, OR’s excellent, long-defunct Wipers, an outfit that Obits has been compared, these guys have enough ideas to fill both sides of a LP without going stale. And their new one Bed & Bugs continues this streak, collecting thirteen selections into their strongest and most ambitious long-form statement yet.
“Taste the Diff” is a spirited opener, combining a very solid tune with delivery that hangs on a tightrope between scrappy riffing and muscular rhythmic flexing. And along the way Froberg’s throat rides atop the ensuing throttle with loose, raspy swagger. Where a lot of post-HC spawned singers have lacked confidence in exploring the tried and true mode of rock vocalizing (i.e. the terrain of the “front man”), Froberg actually excels at it, though his shouting of the song’s title also illuminates his occasional and perhaps unbreakable ties to hardcore’s declamatory method.
And just when it seems “Taste the Diff”’s over, it works itself up for another near minute of vigorous motion, with Simpson’s bass playing being especially boss. From there, “Spun Out” asserts itself with a surfy guitar theme that holds just a hint of spaghetti western soundtrack underneath. It’s the kind of maneuver that’ll surely keep Obits from getting tarred with the descriptor of generic, but what’s really impressive is how the band seamlessly combines this motif into a deftly-shifting punkish song structure.
In less assured hands, that surf element would end up sounding either tacked on or just downright tacky. But Obits don’t overemphasize this sonic flavoring, with “Spun Out” connecting as natural and direct. I’ve little doubt that the song will easily carry over to the club stages when they take it out on tour, though much of my reasoning stems from Bed & Bugs’ production style overall.
The “okay, here we go” heard at the beginning of the hard-charging and vocally gnarly “It’s Sick” helps to underscore the record as having been recorded with a warm, “live” approach, even as it was given some later enhancement in the mixing. And while one of Obits’ most winning attributes has always been song craft, Bed & Bugs holds their most varied set of material up to the present. As evidence, there’s “This Must Be Done,” a number that explores wiry (that’s not to infer Wire-like) tension, and without delivering release. Instead, they choose to blend in some mildly psych-oriented guitar leads.
“Pet Trust” combines those post hardcore roots with a deep attention to melody; heavy but not bruising and hooky without being flat-out hummable, it’s a fine example of Obits’ growing appeal, with Froberg’s gushing in full bloom. After repeated listening, it grows into one of the LP’s real standouts. But the biggest surprise on the album to this point is easily “Besetchet.” In a move somewhat reminiscent of Dutch punk lifers The Ex, they cover a song from the Orchestra Ethiopia, the original’s home being volume 23 of the absolutely killer Ethiopiques series.
And in a mode also similar to The Ex, this version of “Besetchet” isn’t any lame attempt at exotic flavoring. The rhythm is as heavy as wet logs, the guitars tangle and burn, and as the cut progresses, the idea is revealed to be inspired adaptation rather than either rote regurgitation or the meager rewards of flimsy stylistic grafting. And with this track Obits’ background as punks becomes even more apparent than it did on their two prior LPs.
Not to wax too poetic over the olden days, but a big part of what once made punk rock such an excellent mess was ground-level smarts, curiosity, and a desire to step outside of defined boundaries. As my mention of The Ex should make clear, Obits aren’t blazing a new trail but rather walking down a very specific path of non-highfalutin cultural exchange. And if “Besetchet”’s sounds weren’t dandy, I plainly wouldn’t have broached the subject.
With side two’s opener “Operation Bikini,” the band steps back into more expected territory. However, very interesting is the manner in which the Obits’ navigates a rather torrid trajectory from within a highly developed, one might even say complex, song structure. Bed & Bugs is the sound of a group stepping forward, and in so doing, they’re really steppin’ out.
“Malpractice” works up a strapping head of humidity, finding Froberg relating a tale of an unhappy childbirth, and the rising intensity can almost be described as swamp-punk. Obits are sleek in execution and tidy in duration, though; by the end, the singer is barking out the song’s title with emphatic moxie and the music has become a tightly-wound stomp. And all this in less than three minutes time.
In a manner similar to Bed & Bugs’ opener, “This Girl’s Opinion” grapples with an extroverted rock sensibility that’s far from easily adapted to the band’s punkish pedigree. While it’s not necessarily glam-like in constitution, the song does give off some of those glittery fumes. It also clearly derives from the punk tradition of Johansen and Thunders instead of the strains of Southern California hardcore. Guess that’s what living in Brooklyn gets you. And quite frankly, this is refreshing.
“Receptor,” one of the record’s longer numbers, is interesting enough compositionally that it doesn’t outstay its welcome, but even with Fleisig’s punchy drumming, it’s the disc’s least stirring moment. But “I’m Closing In” reestablishes some creative thunder, attaining a charging groove that courtesy of some non-overstated keyboard licks (so down in the mix that I might be simply imagining them) provides the cut with a sly ‘50s flavor. Viva la Rockabilly! And Froberg’s vocal gnaw sounds at times like Darby Crash if he’d returned to L.A. from Memphis wearing leather pants instead of from England sporting a Mohican.
But with “Machines,” Obits undertakes another major departure. Landing somewhere between song-oriented experimentation and a warmly psych-like place, the piece is hard to easily categorize. It’s simultaneously floating (through guitars and mildly expressed vocals) and direct (the rhythms are insistent if not aggressive). As digressions go, I greatly prefer “Besetchet” to “Machines.” But this cut doesn’t falter as much as it just soothes and summons additional surprise at the band’s continued development. So it’s easy to digest and successful overall.
And “Double Jeopardy (For the Third Time)” is a skittering closer that has to be one of the best (and least clichéd) recent sightings of Link Wray’s everlasting influence. It’s a snappy end to what’s easily Obit’s most productive LP. With sustained tenacity and a little more growth they could end up turning out a truly astounding record. At times, Bed & Bugs already comes close.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B+
