Nature Wallows In Mediocrity; Satellite Expresses Anger, Depression

2 Stars

Today's popular rock is sadly becoming a case of "been there, done that." Alabama threesome Course of Nature hasn't done much to buck the trend.

The band's debut, Superkala, is a technically sound record. Each instrument is played with skill and precision, and the production is polished. Unfortunately, bands like Course of Nature need quite a bit more than good chops to turn the most cynical rock fans' heads, and the band just isn't fresh enough. The album simply doesn't have enough to distinguish itself.

Superkala sounds a lot like the melodic metal that has been gracing (or plaguing, depending on one's opinion) the airwaves for the past few years. The band doesn't bring anything new to the table, either lyrically or musically.

Singer Mark Wilkerson's words cover the usual ground -- the songs are all about screwed-up love and alienation. His voice is also unremarkable, as he goes from the typical, over-earnest singing to oppressive yelling.

Sound-wise, Course of Nature has obvious potential that goes unreached. It's nice to hear the band incorporating some acoustic stylings and real melody here and there, like in the dynamic "Caught in the Sun." Still, the songs descend into crunching metal too frequently.

The heavy music doesn't work because Course of Nature isn't an angry band -- the group tries to blend more hope and introspection into its work. But Wilkerson and company haven't really succeeded in effectively expressing this wider range of emotion. The guitar sludge dominates and overshadows the brief periods when the band breaks out.

Things get really interesting with the album's closer, "After the Fall." The song begins with a marching metallic riff before switching to bouncing power pop.

All of a sudden, the band launches into a ska rhythm, complete with horn accompaniment. This is the type of creative, distinct moment that should have happened more often on the album -- but didn't.

Superkala isn't a hopeless effort. It's just that this type of music has been done before, and it's been done better.

By Elliott Dube

34 Satellite
Stop
3 Star

So you haven't been laid since your girlfriend dumped you a year ago? 34 Satellite feels your pain.

The Colorado-based group has fallen out of the lovey-dovey relationship it had in its first album, Radar, and says how it feels about the breakup in Stop.

Using the "if life gives you lemons, make lemonade" attitude, 34 Satellite takes the heartache of a breakup and creates great music.

The first track on Stop, "Elijah St. Marie," is the perfect example of the group's potential. The song is an eclectic mix that starts with a soft guitar-driven instrumental overture and moves into a head-banging chorus. Periodically the hard rock subsides for a softer melodic verse but doesn't interrupt the forward push, making for an effective song minus the slow whining typical of a breakup.

Unfortunately, the whining has to come sometime.

The drumbeat in "Rock Stars Plastic Cars" drags, and a certain amount of feedback from the vocals only adds to the anguish in Marc Benning's voice. The depressed attitude simply doesn't work for the band, so it only attempts it a few times on the album.

In the title track, the lyrics portray the disappointments of a breakup while the music stays upbeat. "Could you make it stop/Make it easier" urges Benning. The intense guitar riffs allow the vocals and lyrics to be melancholy without the song being overly depressing.

34 Satellite is closest to fulfilling its potential when it keeps a quick rhythm. Both the guitar and bass scream at the faster pace in the song "There Is Gonna Be a Problem." The lyrics also work better when there's anger behind them: "I bought the car for you because you were moving too fast/You always need your wheels when you're trying to get away."

34 Satellite achieves a great sound through guitar-laden music with emotional yet not depressing lyrics. The group proves in Stop that the best thing to do is to take those lemons and squirt a bit of the juice into your ex-girlfriend's eye.

By Shellie Byrum