It could be easy to dismiss the late 80s, early 90s Seattle bands as some kind of passing fad, a simple outgrowth of punk, which was simplistic from the start anyway. That is, if you didn't pay close attention. Especially to the side projects, which were the best of the scene. Consider something like Mad Season, the collaboration between Layne Staley and Mike McCready. That's the front line, anyway, and between Layne's voice and McCready's guitar, the easy things to notice are the front line. Sure, they were great, but in many ways, the glue that held that band together was an amazing percussionist who was creeping around all over that scene-- Barrett Martin. Martin's interests have always been broad, and his music has crossed every line. No punk was he, and his polyrhythmic approach ensured that nothing that came from him would ever sound simple, minimalist, or even really punk. So yes, it might have been easy to dismiss the grunge scene. Unless you listened. And Barrett Martin has continued on his individualistic way. Here, we come to Walking Papers, which is vaguely something of a return to roots. In many ways, a casual listen would classify it as grunge, with some distorted guitars, low growling vocals, and many of the trappings, yet what separates Walking Papers from not just the original wave of grunge, but the pap that followed is Barrett Martin. His polyrhythms, his use of world percussion instruments, and basically, everything that made Ginger Baker the genius he was, way back when. A band built around that kind of percussionist is never going to be a mumbly-grumbly punk band calling it innovation by imitating the Pixies, thinking that the Pixies invented "dynamics." Oops. Did I type that? Anyway, the point is that the debut album by Walking Papers takes the best aesthetic of grunge and combines it with the best of someone who plays jazz, "world" music that shouldn't make you cringe, and everything else. Barrett Martin makes a band. Even when he plays way-out-there, like with Tuatara, he makes the band. Simple grunge becomes not-so-simple, in the masterful hands of a percussionist like Barrett Martin. Even if you never really notice the drummer, this is a band that should make you perk up your ears and take notice. The drummer matters. Singers and guitarists get all the glory, but the drummer matters. Weiterlesen
