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There is a good chance you found us accidentally by using the word “taint” in your search (If you found us on purpose, you deserve our accolades). Of course we don’t know what you were looking for, but you stumbled on a damn cool project. Look around; let us help send you on a musical journey. Here you will find a number of album reviews from the strange and extreme to the tame and mainstream. Our reviewers are a bunch of obsessive miscreants. Most of us are avid music collectors and have been involved in the music world for decades. A couple of us have been in or are still in bands.

There are no rules on Tickle Your Taint Blog. Our reviewers might make you laugh, or piss you off; both results are legitimate. One reviewer might write a glowing review of an album another might tear it apart. We may end up adopting a single review system, such as five stars, or each reviewer may use his own or none at all. We may have a new review every week or we could end up with one every six months. This blog exists as a social experiment to build community among a diverse group of music maniacs – our reviewers and hopefully you. Pull down your knickers, lube up and join us in tickling yours and our taints.


Friday, May 28, 2010

American Aquarium- Small Town Hymns


(Last Chance Records, 2010)

Reviewed by SoDak

http://www.myspace.com/americanaquarium

As soon as I put the American Aquarium CD in the stereo (yes, the stereo), all I could do was say “Fuck me.” Instantly, I was reminded of my decade-long addiction to the music distributor Miles of Music, who closed shop over a year ago. Every couple of weeks, I would call up the fine folks there to place a big order of independent Americana music. They were my dealer, as I desired a new fix on a regular basis. Through them I discovered many of my favorite artists, such as Frog Holler, James Low, June Star, Wrinkle Neck Mules, Say Zuzu, on and on. When they shut down the operation, a void filled my life. It became harder and harder to find the artists who should have been discussed in No Depression magazine, but for some reason did not fill it pages.

So here I am listening to Small Town Hymns, the fifth release from this Raleigh, North Carolina band. A swirl of guitars, pianos, and pedal steel fill the room, as the bass the drum keep the beat. Each instrument has space to carry the song, to demand attention. I want to dance; I want to jump in the car and drive through the night; I want to weep. This band does not fuck around. The songs are direct, telling stories of struggle, love, and inevitable heartbreak. The singing is perfect for such rough-and-tumble songs that highlight the alienation that pervades the world. In the song “Brother, Oh Brother,” a soldier reflects, “Now my hands are tired and my feet are sore. I’m sick of dodging bullets from another man’s war. I’ve lost all sight of what I’m fighting for.” Being placed in such horrible conditions, the conclusion is that “war can bring out the worst in a man.” The songs ask for forgiveness, for love, and for comfort. Sorrow and disappointment often follow, in these tales. And, it is worth the risk. It makes the song.

I recently saw this band perform in their hometown. The Pour House was packed, as the band rocked the fuck out on the songs “Hurricane” and “Rattlesnake.” Caitlin Cary, of Whiskeytown fame, took the stage to sing on the latter song—“She’s got the kisses of a thousand angels and the bite of a rattlesnake.” Here’s to misadventure and more great records by this band.

At the concert, someone standing behind me tried to tickle my taint.

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