The Band of 2005
Nomeansno continues to exist as the singlemost exemplary modern band, in my mind.
I've been trying to find a band that can simply match, or even excel past, the monumental entity that is Nomeansno. Bands, here and there, release albums that are in the same league, but it's not just the one album with Nomeansno: it's the over a dozen albums. The string of albums, each a unique and creative endeavour, are powerful masterpieces in their own right, and, collectively, are the masterful career of a humble, Canadian punk rock three-piece that will destroy your world.
The Mars Volta and Muse stick out in my mind as bands, this year, that put out albums which impressed upon me the same moving, exstatic listening experience that I received with Nomeansno. Maybe they'll be the next Nomeansnos for me, maybe their track record will keep up and they can produce a body of work so strong and outrageously, ridiclously good as Nomeansno's, and I'll write something like this about them, in the future. I hope so. De-Loused in the Comatorium from The Mars Volta is a stupendous work, and Absolution is equally marvellous.
Still, Nomeansno exists as the one band which has so many albums that rock my fucking world. For nearly five years, now, I've been listening to these albums--I think it took me just one year to get everything they'd released up until that point in 2002 or '3--and every album is individually amazing (alright, maybe Mama isn't redefining any musical standards, but for a first attempt at an album by two brothers doing it themselves with low-budget studio equipment as, essentially, a garage band in 1982, it was strong, comparatively). I struggle to find words to describe the experience of listening to Nomeansno.
Nomeansno is composed of three people: Rob Wright, the bassist and lead vocalist; John Wright, the drummer; and either Andy Kerr or Tom Holliston serving as guitarist, depending on the era. In more recent albums, there's also been a second drummer utilized. Really, I don't want to go on too much about Nomeansno history: www.no-means-no.de is a good site for information. Also, check out Satan Stole My Teddybear for good reviews. Anyway . . .
Nomeansno is like listening to a march towards an inevitable climax and then the completely natural resolution of the whole ordeal; every song is so brilliantly composed that you never question what they do. You never think to yourself that something seems wrong with the music, because the dominant and effective usage of the rhythm section causes everything to make sense--the heart and soul, arguably, of the band are the two Wright brothers, drum and bass, and it shows. Their songs tend to be foreboding or ominous-sounding, made up of deep vibrations that shake the human soul, from the very early era, Wrong material to the very recent era, One material. Nomeansno is like a train thundering toward you on the tracks, ready to roll you over and destroy you . . . Nomeansno is like being raped in the ear by pure talent.
I struggle to find good words to describe the sound of Nomeansno, because the best music escapes transliteration. It simply is. Nomeansno is simply good.
Speaking of words, the lyrics of Nomeansno are not your typical, two-bit poetic endeavours written by people more concerned with power chords and catchy riffs than the meaning of music. Punk rockers of today who so eagerly label themselves as thought-provoking or frontal lobe-style musicians can learn a thing or two from Nomeansno; in fact, they can learn the entire lexicon from Nomeansno. If a band can not produce lyrics that match up in quality with the instrumentation, they may as well drop the singing and just play (see: Dream Thetre versus Liquid Tension Experiment). The words of Nomeansno almost have as much power as the sound: no, they don't, actually, because they are part of the sound, they are the sound. The churning, driving bass line and the rolling, thundering drumming with the accompanying melodies of the guitar would not be complete without a voice coming out above it all, weaving delicate imagery or creating surprisingly complex characterisation or setting down the schematics of a dark, rich setting. Listen to "The World Wasn't Built In A Day" or "What Slayde Says" or "Our Town" or "0 + 2 = 1" and try and tell me modern poets write better, with a straight face: I fucking dare you.
Nomeansno isn't composed of hip, young musicians, either. Look at the photos from recent tours: these guys are white-topped. And they outrock the young kids. They outshine the new breed. They continually redefine what it means to be punk, while suburban Californians struggle with the original definition with bad, Cockney imitations. They keep the spirit of punk alive. They help me retain the hope that punk isn't truly as dead as it seems at first glance. All from Canada, too. Rock the fuck on, Canada (no, I don't mean you, Celine).
What the fuck are you waiting for? Go listen to some Nomeansno. Prove me Wrong.
You won't.
I've been trying to find a band that can simply match, or even excel past, the monumental entity that is Nomeansno. Bands, here and there, release albums that are in the same league, but it's not just the one album with Nomeansno: it's the over a dozen albums. The string of albums, each a unique and creative endeavour, are powerful masterpieces in their own right, and, collectively, are the masterful career of a humble, Canadian punk rock three-piece that will destroy your world.
The Mars Volta and Muse stick out in my mind as bands, this year, that put out albums which impressed upon me the same moving, exstatic listening experience that I received with Nomeansno. Maybe they'll be the next Nomeansnos for me, maybe their track record will keep up and they can produce a body of work so strong and outrageously, ridiclously good as Nomeansno's, and I'll write something like this about them, in the future. I hope so. De-Loused in the Comatorium from The Mars Volta is a stupendous work, and Absolution is equally marvellous.
Still, Nomeansno exists as the one band which has so many albums that rock my fucking world. For nearly five years, now, I've been listening to these albums--I think it took me just one year to get everything they'd released up until that point in 2002 or '3--and every album is individually amazing (alright, maybe Mama isn't redefining any musical standards, but for a first attempt at an album by two brothers doing it themselves with low-budget studio equipment as, essentially, a garage band in 1982, it was strong, comparatively). I struggle to find words to describe the experience of listening to Nomeansno.
Nomeansno is composed of three people: Rob Wright, the bassist and lead vocalist; John Wright, the drummer; and either Andy Kerr or Tom Holliston serving as guitarist, depending on the era. In more recent albums, there's also been a second drummer utilized. Really, I don't want to go on too much about Nomeansno history: www.no-means-no.de is a good site for information. Also, check out Satan Stole My Teddybear for good reviews. Anyway . . .
Nomeansno is like listening to a march towards an inevitable climax and then the completely natural resolution of the whole ordeal; every song is so brilliantly composed that you never question what they do. You never think to yourself that something seems wrong with the music, because the dominant and effective usage of the rhythm section causes everything to make sense--the heart and soul, arguably, of the band are the two Wright brothers, drum and bass, and it shows. Their songs tend to be foreboding or ominous-sounding, made up of deep vibrations that shake the human soul, from the very early era, Wrong material to the very recent era, One material. Nomeansno is like a train thundering toward you on the tracks, ready to roll you over and destroy you . . . Nomeansno is like being raped in the ear by pure talent.
I struggle to find good words to describe the sound of Nomeansno, because the best music escapes transliteration. It simply is. Nomeansno is simply good.
Speaking of words, the lyrics of Nomeansno are not your typical, two-bit poetic endeavours written by people more concerned with power chords and catchy riffs than the meaning of music. Punk rockers of today who so eagerly label themselves as thought-provoking or frontal lobe-style musicians can learn a thing or two from Nomeansno; in fact, they can learn the entire lexicon from Nomeansno. If a band can not produce lyrics that match up in quality with the instrumentation, they may as well drop the singing and just play (see: Dream Thetre versus Liquid Tension Experiment). The words of Nomeansno almost have as much power as the sound: no, they don't, actually, because they are part of the sound, they are the sound. The churning, driving bass line and the rolling, thundering drumming with the accompanying melodies of the guitar would not be complete without a voice coming out above it all, weaving delicate imagery or creating surprisingly complex characterisation or setting down the schematics of a dark, rich setting. Listen to "The World Wasn't Built In A Day" or "What Slayde Says" or "Our Town" or "0 + 2 = 1" and try and tell me modern poets write better, with a straight face: I fucking dare you.
Nomeansno isn't composed of hip, young musicians, either. Look at the photos from recent tours: these guys are white-topped. And they outrock the young kids. They outshine the new breed. They continually redefine what it means to be punk, while suburban Californians struggle with the original definition with bad, Cockney imitations. They keep the spirit of punk alive. They help me retain the hope that punk isn't truly as dead as it seems at first glance. All from Canada, too. Rock the fuck on, Canada (no, I don't mean you, Celine).
What the fuck are you waiting for? Go listen to some Nomeansno. Prove me Wrong.
You won't.
posted by c.Jay Wrong at
10:19 AM
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