One Fresh Spin, One Old Gem

By Marc Stephens

Verdict: ’80s Fans Rejoice

The buzz on this one is quite amusing, really. Four guys from Sweden doing their unabashed best to sound exactly like Echo & The Bunnymen, and succeeding brilliantly — to the point of utter superfluousness. The postmodern beats, the flowing synths, lead singer Philip Ekstrom’s operatic croon: So hackneyed, so derivative is the Mary Onettes’ mimetic approach that no respectable indie fan or reviewer could ever see clear to pardoning the band for such egregiously ham-handed larceny, much less actually praising it. Right?

Well, a funny thing happened on the way to the band’s universal vilification. Try as they might, the indie cognoscenti just can’t seem to pan The Mary Onettes in good conscience — and neither can I. Every year dozens of acts take a stab at cloning that “classic” ’80s British sound, à la Echo, the Cure, the Smiths, and Modern English, the preponderance of whom fail miserably. But the Mary Onettes’ sound is so classic and their songwriting (with a few exceptions) so unexpectedly solid, that this debut turns out to embody a swaggering, offhand mini-masterpiece, especially for those poor alt-’80s mavens still stuck listening to “Fred” on XM satellite radio all day! Aside from lone clunker “The Laughter,” Mary Onettes is an unmitigated romp through that decade, with “Lost,” “Slow” and “Under the Guillotine” leading the Thatcher-era charge to grudging respectability. “Guillotine” in particular is a must-listen, guaranteed to make “Lips Like Sugar” fans do a double-take. And as for those haughty, pessimistic souls who might prefer the unvarnished Ian McCulloch Ocean Rain-era originals, I feel obliged to point out that Echo & Co. haven’t released anything near this jaunty or compelling in nearly two decades.

Artist: Starcastle

Verdict: Starcastle Copying Yes Copying Starcastle

While we’re on the subject of brazenly unoriginal doppelgangers, for prog-rock fans the glaring Yes-Starcastle dichotomy ranks near the top. Yes came first by six years or so (in 1969), leaving Starcastle’s 1975 stateside debut to sound like a tinny undernourished younger brother, replete with feisty moogs, faux-epic synths and a high-pitched vocalist (Terry Luttrell) whose treble-heavy harmonies and inflection sounded enough like Jon Anderson to fool many a first-time listener. Yet even futuristic space-rock has its sub-genres, and on their second record, 1977’s Fountains of Light, the band broke fresh ground over which Yes was, for whatever reason, soon fated to follow. And it was the poor, oft-maligned Starcastle who got there first.

Yes altered its sound dramatically between 1975 and 1978, from the bloated yet inspired Tales From Topographic Oceans to the thinner, more rhythmically oriented Tormato, and this shift would persist even unto their 1983 crossover megahit, 90125. The shorter tunes, the tighter song structures, the thin timbre of the synthesizers — Fountains of Light presaged it all, on soaring tracks such as “Silver Winds,” “Dawning of the Day” and the magnificent “A Fall of Diamonds,” whose opening harmonics are so transporting as to require a time machine to return to 2007. Now perhaps such is what passes for “natural progression” in the art-rock world, and Yes would have followed the same course anyway, all the way to ’80s New Wave nirvana. But did Yes’ elder statesmen give Fountains a listen beforehand, and like what they heard? If sonic etymology is your thing, and you enjoy a good mystery, download the record and decide for yourself.

 Marc Stephens is a Web consultant by day, writer by night. Comments? E-mail letters@miamisunpost.com.