HOLDING ON TO HAND GRENADES by THE BEATINGS
— Intro to A Responsible Person —
— A Responsible Person —
— This City is Killing Me —
— Upstate Flashbacks —
— Feel Good Ending —
— Stockholm Syndrome Relapse —
— Harry’s Wild Ride —
— Remedial Math Rock —
— Scorched Earth Policy —
— CoIntelPro —
— Oh Shit, My Phaser’s Jammed —
— Pennsyltucky —
— Don’t Flake Now —
— False Positive —
— Burn Down the Jungle —
— Villains —
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MDRF007 | JAN 2006 | 61:45 | Full Length CD
If greater success eludes The Beatings with the release of Hand Grenades then there is no justice in the world. On Hand Grenade the band combine the spiky astringecy of their biggest influences with a deft melodic sense that makes their best songs refreshingly sweet and tart at the same time. Every song on the album is better than those on their previous EP, suggesting that they are growing quickly as songwriters and arrangers.
Like many of the recent generation of indie rock bands, The Beatings thrive on tension. The Pixies’ signature loud-soft dynamic makes up a large part of their DNA, but they add new dimensions to this by-now routine strategy by adding Sonic Youth-style sheets of noise and by using three singers, one male with a brittle monotone that can burst into melodic (almost-)screaming, one male with a high and thin voice, and an occasional contribution from bassist Erin Dalbec who (in the best Kim Deal/Kim Gordon tradition) acts as a burst of sunshine over the grey-blue musical landscapes.
Guitarists Tony Skalicky and E.R. interweave their turbulent guitar lines over powerful drumming from Dennis Grabowski. All bassist Dalbec has to do with so much going on is add drive and punch to Grabowski’s drumming; that she is able to add harmonic interest is just icing on the cake. The muscular sound drives the fast songs and keeps the slow ones moving along, and the band create gorgeous textures to go with the turbulent rhythms. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a band before who could sound like Public Image Ltd. and Galaxie 500 at the same time, but I’m glad to have had the chance.
It’s not as if Boston’s punk tradition needed saving, and it’s not as if The Beatings need their talent affirmed by comparison with the greats of that scene, but it’s true: if ever the world needed an heir to Mission of Burma, Galaxie 500, The Pixies and so on, The Beatings are it, and on their own terms. Holding On To Hand Grenades is an impressively self-assured statement of purpose that should be the Beatings’ entry to the World of Bigger And Better Things.
John Owen, Blogcritics
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File this one in the “Don’t Judge A Book By It’s Cover” section. Judging by the title of this album, its cover art and song titles like “Oh Shit, My Phaser’s Jammed,” you’d think The Beatings were a third-rate nu-metal band. What a pleasant surprise it was to find out that the Boston-based band’s second album recalls the dramatic alt.rock of the ’80s and the jubilant guitars of ’90s indie rock — imagine Ian Curtis fronting Superchunk. While their influences provide a warm familiarity, The Beatings are also fresh enough to avoid sounding exactly like anyone else. By alternating singers (both male and female) and moving between up-tempo songs and brooding numbers, Holding On To Hand Grenades is a surprise treat. —Elizabeth Chorney-Booth, Chart Magazine
Since the late nineties, Boston’s The Beatings have forged a path of sonically-fueled independent rock, rooted deeply in D.I.Y ethics. On Holding on to Hand Grenades, their second full length and fifth overall release on their own label, Midriff Records, The Beatings, along with the well-respected indie producer Paul Q. Kolderie, continue to create incisively coarse, guitar-driven rock. By dipping into a harmonious post-punk fondue of monotone vocal wails and catchy bottom heavy melodies, The Beatings shine most brightly on the almost radio-friendly “Upstate Flashbacks,” or on the flipside with the screeching angst of “Remedial Math Rock.” The Beatings follow in the footsteps of fellow Massachusetts rock legend The Pixies, with a tip of the hat to NYC art noise legend Sonic Youth. Holding on to Hand Grenades, from its instrumental opener “Intro to a Responsible Person” to the nearly seven-minute opus of closing track “Villains,” is yet again proof positive that these three gentleman and one women are proud torch-bearers of Boston’s underground music scene. —Jim Ansourian, Hyperactive Magazine
It’s not a backhanded compliment to call the Beatings a pure punk throwback. If there’s nothing on HOTHG that constitutes a great leap forward for a band that’s already proven its revivalist hardcore chops, it’s still a pretty good record. Less weird than its predecessors (in particular. 2003′s flawless HPMA), Holding finds the Boston quartet chugging through a generous hour of melodic, hook-driven power punk. Only a smattering of brief instrumentals hint at the Beatings’ jokey side, but their noisy egghead leanings are on full, glorious display throughout, especially when bassist Erin Dalbec sings lead on the swagger-heavy Scorched Earth Policy and towering Pennsyltuckey (the album’s standout track). Cleanly produced and carefully performed, the music on Holding matches the title; you feel the band holding back a bit, as if it wasn’t ready to lob the pineapple just yet. But as a likeable sampling of catchy songcraft, it’ll do until the Beatings feel comfortable enough to pull the pin. — Eric Waggoner, MAGNET
They’ll take your soul if you let them / But don’t you / Let them.” That has to be one of my favorite lyrical phrases, bless my 70s soft-spot heart. And though it may seem strange to relate Carole King to a Boston punk/rock band, and stranger still, to a band named the Beatings — when all is universal in good songs, and I am strange, it works here. Holding on to Hand Grenades speaks of that common struggle — dealing with a chilly world that seems far too bent on scratching the blue from our skies. And though at times we are helpless to find the streaks of black that numb hands leave behind, it’s about resisting the descent into a colorless place. For the Beatings, this resistance emerges less in acoustic folksy murmurs and way more into balls-out, bad-ass screaming. But that’s different strokes, I guess.
To start, “A Responsible Person” paints the everyday burdens that bear weight on our shoulders, yet in its melodic energy, assumes these clouds aren’t so heavy they can’t be lifted: “I’m gonna put in my time / tomorrow / I’m gonna make up my mind / tomorrow / and put myself together / if I can.” Though we get to a place where we feel up and ready for change, sometimes a breath or two is necessary. More often still, it seems all too easy to place these hopes within an infinite number of “tomorrows.” But as the Beatings bring to mind, it’s worth the troubling shot. True, sometimes what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger—but what about when it is killing you? As for that idea, “This City Is Killing me” really hits home. At the end of beat-by-the city phrases, we get electric chair-elicited bursts of “Fight ! Fight! Fight!” that sound as if the singer (there are three of them, so your guess is as good as mine) were whipping his throat at the end of a rubber band. In a word: Amazing. Pure fed-up feeling always does well to get the meaning across, and the Beatings have plenty of it.
At points throughout the album, the vocals can get Interpol-ish, but that’s just a song or two up for skips. As for the rest, things maintain an interesting momentum. For bonus pleasure, there are a few instrumental interludes thrown into the batch: “Don’t Flake Now” has to be the quintessential neurotic phrase we hopefuls spin in our heads, especially when we find someone as charming as these bright acoustic strings and twinkly pianos. It’s somewhat of an unexpected, blissful minute of quiet beauty among the chaos. (I knew they had a little Carole in ‘em.) “Remedial Math Rock” brings up the first in-your-silly-face, unrelenting song on the album, and its energy is more than welcomed. This is definitely the Beatings at their best. “Stockholm Syndrome Relapse” has a weirder, noir-ish vibe, with inserts of girlish whispers from bassist Erin Dalbec that call to mind French prostitutes cooing into rotary phones. While that has its perks, the Beatings are far better when they ante up the psychosis, and their songs come to maddening life. Maybe not so mad at life, just a bit perturbed enough to scream really fucking loud about it. —Sue Bell, Stylus Magazine