THE HEART, THE PRODUCT, THE MACHINE AND THE ASSHOLE by THE BEATINGS
— American Standard —
— Organ Donor Regrets —
— Transvestite Bar —
— This Year —
— Sick Day —
— These Will be the Old Days, Someday —
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CD
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MDRF003 | OCT 2003 | 29:32 | CD EP
“Those of us with Bostalgia can’t help but hear the Beatings and recall the days when female bass players roamed every stage, when J Mascis was the man to plunder and when the road to glory ran through Fort Apache. The tagline above the latest from these contemporary Boston darlings is “Loud Frantic Quartet Takes Horse Tranquilizers”, and the sound-bite version of the subsequent news item reads: “Silkworm Tupelo”. Only the jokey “Transvestite Bar” fails to intrigue, and even it offers a fantastic organ sway. The band’s recipe (few changes plus screaming finale equals song) grates a tad, but the bummercore “These Will Be the Old Days Someday” is thankfully spared. The Beatings are one ingredient (stronger production) away from continental potential.”
— William Bowers, MAGNET Magazine
Get this CD and put it in your car stereo, drive around alone, sing along really loud. Put it on while you get ready for the big date. Getting home way too blasted in the early morning? No problem, try The Beatings while you stare at the spinning ceiling. If you just got dumped, pour another whiskey, and crank the last song, “These Days Will Be the Old Days Someday.”The Beatings are the real deal, making the kind of uninhibited songwriting and performing that bands struggle for, but few ever actually achieve. If they can’t hit the notes, they shout them out anyway. The playing is unselfish and deceptively basic, traditional, but not to the extent of being uncreative. They have big swaying anthems (“Sick Day”), quirky, sharp pop (“This Year”), and even dark, disturbing laments (“Organ Donor Regrets”) that would make Billy Childish proud. There’s some winking and shrugging when they scream about how “the transvestite bar got the best of them (me),” but then again, maybe there’s not.
Here’s a brief description of the music itself . . . Throughout the six songs here, the ingredients rarely (though they do on occasion) stray from the standard garage band set up. There’s dirty guitars, a thick, quarter note-happy bass, and a hard hit drum kit that let’s you know what part of your body to nod, tap, or shake. The voice that most often comes through is a bassy, though surprisingly expressive instrument, something that calls to a more vocally talented Calvin Johnson. This is the easy defining characteristic for The Beatings. They’re also fond of the “three chords and the truth” approach, but are no means limited to it. “Transvestite Bar,” a seven-minute trek through the geography of a very strange evening, sports a banjo and organ, giving something of a rootsy melancholy to its minor meanderings, while “Sick Day,” lead by the voice of the female bass player, offers up a welcome break about half way through the somewhat gloomy EP.
About the only negative thing that could be said about the record is that the opener, “American Standard,” is a more sullen, slowed-down theft of Pavement’s famous “Summer Babe,” and the closer, maybe the favorite off the whole disk, “These Will Be the Old Days Someday,” appears to be heavily influenced by the sad and sweet tunefulness of Modest Mouse’s earlier work. Even this though is easily overlooked because of the personal stamp The Beatings put on the songs, and after a few listens, the comparisons fall off the back of the truck. This is one of the best finds in a long time. Check them out.
— Hutch Hill, Delusions of Adequacy
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Any indie rock band calling Boston, MA home home inevitably has Pixies dust pumping through its veins. The Beatings have never been an exception, until now…building on the post-punk framework, The Beatings have since grown exponentially, honing their songwriting skills to razor sharpness. ‘Transvestite Bar’ is a definite highlight and the band’s most daring composition to date. A simple banjo and organ begin the seven-minute journey through a late “when the bars are closed/ and I can’t get to sleep in my pantyhose.” The song slowly fades beneath guitars and a baritone backup chorus, perfectly placing the listener’s mind in the bar with the band. The final two songs, however, hit the hardest. The amazing ‘Sick Day’ sounds like a rough-around-the-edges Interpol; the two-and-a-half minutes of whirling guitars and intense shouted vocals will bring shivers. Closing things out is “These Will Be the Old Days Someday,” a somber heartbreaker and the perfect autumnal end to a unique (and far too short) record. “As the sceneries change, you remain the same” is one haunting lyric. The Beatings, however, have changed. This is a very good thing. — Michael Wehunt, Flagpole Magazine
Previously dubbed scream rock, post-punk, and noise pop as evidenced by their 2001 demo EP 6Hz and 2002′s Italiano, Boston’s the Beatings add slowcore to their repertoire with the advent of The Heart, the Product, the Machine and the Asshole. With their deep warbles and sluggish axes, lead singers and guitarists Tony Skalicky and Eldridge Rodriguez recall Idaho on the commanding opener, “American Standard,” and a twang-tinged exercise in desperation known as “Organ Donor Regrets.” The whispering intricacies of “These Will Be the Old Days Someday” make the midtempo “This Year” — sung by bassist Erin Dalbec — seem downright rollicking. But without question, it’s the clever, cross-dressing lament “Transvestite Bar” that steals the show on an EP that finds the Beatings punching through another rock style with mad skills. — John D. Luerssen, All Music Guide
This scrappy Boston quartet returns with a fistful of mid-tempo tunes and barroom laments masquerading as an EP. At over 30 minutes, The Heart, the Product, the Machine and the Asshole (reportedly named after the respective members’ nicknames) is a meaty effort that departs a bit from the melodic noise-rock of last year’s Italiano, but manages to make an impression in its own right. Though it falls short of showcasing what they’re truly capable of, The Heart… has a restrained confidence that belies The Beatings’ vigorous live act. The lyrics are top notch, slathering mildly sarcastic anger over spare sentiments, and the performances are typically impassioned but never fussed-over. The EP exudes a stuffy-nosed calm before the storm (bristling with kinetic energy), and may end up being the most subdued of the band’s efforts.
“This Year” features rubbery electric guitars and “Sick Day” (which starts with someone taking a piss) probably owns in concert, with Eldrige Rodriguez’s Frank Black-in-a-bottle vocals floating over echoey gits. Still, the EP is a step in a subtler direction. Their noisier tendencies in check, The Heart… ends with “These Will Be Old Days Someday,” which has a late-Saturday-and-you’re-finally-sober feel, avoiding indulgent indie melancholy with patient but insistent notes and matter-of-fact vocals. Maybe it’s the quickie mi-fi production, or the dearth of out-and-out bruisers, but The Heart… sounds like a band maturing into something unmistakably more diverse and heartfelt.— John Wenzel, Sponic
This follow-up to the Beatings’ superb 2001 debut Italiano delivers more driving post-rock. The male vocals switch from low monotones over angular guitar lines to a frenzied shriek a la Pixies-era Frank Black. Adding a female element to the vocal mix, bassist Erin Dalbec leads “This Year,” a track reminiscent of Kelly Green and the late great PEE. Personally, I can’t get enough of that male/female combo on the mic. The must-hear “Transvestite Bar” careens over seven minutes, a jumble of tongue-in-cheek lyrics anchored by the chorus: “When it’s late at night the bars are closed/and I can’t go to sleep in my pantyhose/transvestite bar’s got the best of me.” Building to a larynx-ripping scream over a basso “man chorus” (that’s what it’s called in the liner notes), the song ends in a golden wash of organ. In six songs, this EP covers a wide range indicative of the Beatings’ many influences, culminating in an utterly original talent. — Scott Sand, Boston’s Weekly Dig