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By: Dennis Cook
At times Philadelphia's Marah seems like the inheritor of the golden fleece once held by The Clash – working class hero-musicians touched by blessedly ragged brilliance. Other times, they just seem willfully sloppy, self-indulgent and a lil' too impressed with themselves. Angels of Destruction (Yep Roc) leans heavier on the former but doesn't quite escape the latter.
Angels starts and ends with an assured splash, coming on like men anxious to ditch their endless Springsteen and Replacements comparisons, spitting nails and riding their instruments until they sweat. They keep up the hard drive for about four songs including "Wild West Love," a slice of American cabaret worthy of The Doors. Then "Blue But Cool" arrives like an '80s romantic comedy soundtrack washed up by the Delaware River. The lyrics are better but the vibe is pure Peter Cetera. Things remain a little scattershot with the vaguely Banhart-ian "Jesus In The Temple" and "Santos De Madera," which shows these guys have worn out a copy or two of Sandinista. Like earlier releases, their wandering attention span and willful eclecticism throws a monkey wrench into the works. While each cut is fine in its own way, they don't all benefit from being on the same album.
They hit a nice folk-inflected garden party swing in the last stretch (especially "Can't Take It With You," this century's "Life Is A Carnival") that echoes their fantastic 2005 release, If You Didn't Laugh, You'd Cry, culminating in the ferocious, Biblical closer "Wilderness," which tumbles into a blue-eyed funk blast that incongruously (yet perfectly) gives way to spirited bagpipes. However, the journey begins in a high desert fuzz:
I was bleedin' from the mouth
When I came down from the mountains
There were briars in my hair & lion tracks on my back
Something happened to me
Something wild, something beautiful
A hidden track after the fadeout is like a lost Lowell George ditty, a jaunty drifter's lament that sends us on our way to the pokey. There's little doubt Marah has a classic in them but this isn't it. Clever as hell (maybe too much so in spots) and almost ridiculously appealing, Angels fails to sustain a coherent mood on this often upbeat apocalyptic ride. When they finally fully focus their considerable talents one suspects they're gonna make a masterpiece…or two…or three. For now, this ain't bad music to keep us company while we wait for that day.
JamBase | Philly
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