Search - Amusement Parks on Fire :: Out of the Angeles

Out of the basement, into the stereo.

Luke Rounda | Lawrence, KS | 08/11/2006

(4 out of 5 stars)

"Their name is one that simultaneously conjures feelings of joy and sadness, but the ride doesn't stop there. Amusement Parks on Fire songs are propelled by warm floods of galvanized guitar fuzz; soaringly simplistic synth lines; and warbling, ghostly vocals that fade in and out of the perfectly-stirred stew of "Out of the Angeles."



Escaping the scrutiny placed on anyone releasing an album recorded in a basement shouldn't be too difficult for the UK's Michael Feerick, also known as Amusement Parks on Fire, if this new record is any indication of the direction his band will take. While the eponymous "Amusement Parks on Fire" was an impressive recording given its circumstances, it was also predictably muddied and shrunken by the limitations of self-composition, production, recording and performing a full length release. But if the reviews for that album were any indication, this band is a supernova, and the shockwave is only now about to hit the United States and the rest of the world.



Fans of the shoegaze music of yore (My Bloody Valentine, Slowdive, all the old standbys) have little reason not to fall in love with this album. To open the record, Feerick demonstrates virtuosic skill at manipulating emotion with sound. The title track takes a slow dive through soupy atmospherics, only to explode suddenly and viciously into a soaring emotional toccata propelled by loud, loud guitars and Feerick's very blendable voice-as-instrument. This falls directly in line with the philosophy of the shoegazers. Feerik describes himself instead as a "stargazer," but beginning with something that displays such passion and abandon is the best way to open any kind of record, regardless of genre labels.



My Bloody Valentine can be felt in the attention to detail heaped upon every nuance of sound, creating a sharply-focused symphony of distortion. The riffs summon up memories of Swervedriver, and Amusement Parks on Fire are clearly at their best in such a spot, spitting out slick, gnarly fuzzbombs like "In Flight" or "Blackout." Violin and tape manipulation lullabies ("At Last the Night," "So Mote It Be") bookend the presumed A/B sides of the record, and succeed as mere mood pieces, but are otherwise only adept at putting the listener to sleep.



The overall tone of such a record is difficult to pin down. On one hand, barely-contained energy and dynamics threaten (pardon the French) to blow the roof off the sucker. On the other hand, it's not quite what's called "hard rock" by most.



Meditation to "Out of the Angeles" is certainly possible. But the mood one would have to be in is hardly meditative in the Enya sense. Rather, there's a purposeful sense of urgency and danger felt throughout the album that evokes all kinds of confusing emotions and thoughts. Whether it gets used as the soundtrack to an interstate car chase or the soundtrack to doing laundry, this is music that suggests to the listener a destination.



Destination: out of the basement, into your stereo."