Confession time. Like anyone else, I only have so much time on my hands. I’m a big fan of Dear Landlord. Then about six months/a year, later after Dead Landlord had homesteaded in my ears, I heard about a band called Landlord. This doesn’t make sense, but I decided right then that I only had enough room in my brain and turntable for one Landlord band and made the pass on their previous efforts. I am a fucking idiot. I know this. Humans are irrational. Beneath the Wheel’s like mold behind a wall; the effects accumulate from extended exposure. First couple listens, I thought of the Cheap Girls—that restraint and mid-tempos. I thought of a brother band to the Hot New Mexicans. Mellow but not sleepy. Not shitty. I thought of some ‘70s rock that didn’t fuckin’ blow (with passing flashes of the Beach Boys). I thought of singer-songwriters I didn’t want to punch in the face and smash their guitars over the egos. Landlord’s lead singer has a wavery, watery voice. I thought of all the indie rock I’m glad I don’t know, but these dudes probably do. I get the best of that world; the distilled shit because I don’t know my Antioch Arrow from my Built To Spill from my Modest Mouse. I found out that if I just relaxed, cleared up my schedule, unclenched my jaw, and let the record soak into me like a bath tub of iced tea, that was the ticket. For me, it’s “Whoah, buddy, settle down. I don’t wanna think no mores” music… Now if I can just find the time to get around to Witches, who suffered from Witches With Dicks coming out before them... One thing at a time… (Okay, total fuckin’ tangent. I wish bands would somewhere kick back or thanks list the authors they reference. Beneath the Wheel was a Herman Hesse book, where the lead character drowns in a river after a night of heavy drinking. It’s no Skippy Dies, but it’s a pretty good book.)
–todd (Recess)