Last year, Clevelander Nick Tolar quietly released one of the year's best albums, Search. Although he handled the lion's share of the playing and recording, the musical moniker on the cover was Herzog. While it deserved far-reaching distribution – not guaranteed even with the Internet – it was released as a vinyl-only limited edition by UK imprint Transparent Records. Thankfully, with a new year, came a re-issue, courtesy of Exit Stencil Recordings – and it's available on LP or as a digital version. It's about time.
Search represents a tastefully curated showcase of inspired listening mined largely from the last two decades. Early reviews were quick to label it as "slacker rock," though Tolar's sound library is diverse, a colorful tone palette that radiates far brighter than the dullard drones and lollygagging of similarly styled slacker outfits. Tolar builds an impressive guitar-driven series of soundscapes that undulate over 11 tracks and 35-plus minutes, drowsily drifting, blurring notes in a wash of resplendent noise that will make more than a few listeners happy that music like this is still being churned out in bedrooms (or anywhere, for that matter). It never takes itself too seriously – a welcome Midwestern sensibility that literally sings to realistic uncertainty.
The record opens with a sample of former Cincinnati Bengals' head coach Sam Wyche's famous loudspeaker scolding of wily fans: "Will the next person that sees anybody throw anything onto this field, point 'em out, and get 'em out of here - you don't live in Cleveland, you live in Cincinnati!" It's fitting. Homespun lyrics take center stage on "West Boulevard": I grew up on the streets of West Boulevard / where life isn't really all that hard … I will never be more than the streets that have birthed me.
"Static Shock" leads with all the atmospheric hallmarks of dream pop favorites Slowdive (and contemporaries Joy Zipper and Pacific UV), then seamlessly flows with countrified licks that wouldn't be out of place on a My Morning Jacket album. The guitars slide across a toe-tapping shuffle that evolves into a thundering wall of sound spiked with rapid-fire snare fills, and a whirlpool of Neil Young-approved hyper-reverbed distortion and tremolo picking as it blares to a soaring coda. An infectious hook and vocals à la Fountains of Wayne dominate "Town To Town," though it chugs with the post-punk urgency of Hüsker Dü, with added solo noodling that plays fittingly, rather than indulgently. "Living Alone" is a quirky gem dotted with blips and beeps that will find favor with fans of Apple in Stereo's Fun Trick Noisemaker; the song's final minute takes a dynamic twist (think Frank Black), drifting off into a wintry groove. "Paul Blart and the Death of Art" is the best Dinosaur Jr. song J. Mascis never wrote, with steady drums and overdubbed vocals backseat to magniloquent riffage. A trippy backward tape loop drives "Moving Away," and "Head for the Hills" carries the dramatic sweep of The Charlatans' more emotive aural blasts. "Steady Hands" takes a gospel harmony, and applies laconic tongue-in-cheek lyrics: broke as shit / but steady hands / show that I have grown.
The alt-country twang returns on "Cautiously Optimistic," though there are sprinklings of Gish-era Smashing Pumpkins that give the more-straightforward country rollick added dimension that matches the breezy sentiment: It's funny how you think / when you're all alone / It's funny how you change / when you're with someone / orange juice and marmalade / sit back and waste the day / at night, we'll watch the waves / cool breeze feels nice. "Slowest Romance" is a delightfully somber end to the album, though it leaves you wanting more. That's a good thing.
Listen to tracks from Search on page two...
