Intelligence - Seattle, Washington.
A-side : What Wine Goes with Eggs / B-side : Sixteen & Seventeen
What Wine Goes with Eggs
Author: Lars Finberg
Composer: Lars Finberg
Sixteen and Seventeen
Author: Lars Finberg
Composer: Lars Finberg
Official Artist Photo
Connie Sewer
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What
makes the songs different from the rest (because really, this post-punk
poser has been way into Beyonce and Jay-Z since before they were into
each other) is that Finberg finally found the right accomplices. And
hey, I'm not saying that there isn't enough distortion and knuckle
dragging on the songs. Oh there's plenty. The tracks were recorded at
home, alone, by Finberg and all of them are at least partially
water-logged, broken, or busted-up, kid. But you're not getting the
whole story if you're not listening to the pop hooks, the pop
psychology, and the pop of the bubblegum--sticky and sweet just like the
syrup in that Cows song.
All I'm saying is that you only have half the story if
you think Lars Finberg is at the forefront of the XYZ (as in please
eXamine Your Zipper) Generation's future-sounding garage punk art-junk.
It's true that, as the head cheese of the Intelligence, "that one guy"
in the Dipers, and the beat-keeper in the A Frames, he makes noises
that sound like tomorrow--and the day after tomorrow, and the day after
that. Nobody is arguing with you there, but Finberg wants his tomorrows
to shine and bounce and pop even as they crackle and hum.
This is the
guy, after all, who bought a Britney Spears LP at Amoeba Records while
on tour through San Francisco. Seriously. Clutched the damn thing to
his skinny little chest all the way across the country, brought it back
to Seattle with him, and then played it--repeatedly--when he got home.
Loves the obscure underbelly of the white hot avant-garde, this one,
but loves his damn TV dinners and fruity pop culture, too.
If
you've been playing along at home, you probably got the feeling that
Finberg never could settle on just the right three people to drag along
behind him. But the current incarnation allows him the perfect balance
between the four-track seclusion of his bedroom punk and the rough and
tumble real world. In the jelly-rolled psycho babble of "Confidence,"
you'll hear the geometric churning of drummer Matthew Ford, bass player
Calvin Lee Reeder, and Nicholas Brawley's guitar. Those last two he
stole from the Popular Shapes, which ought to help you figure out
what hot-shit ultra-kinetic speed punk some of these songs were
reminding you of. (You were only sort of right when you were thinking
Le Shok). Matthew Ford, well, I'm not telling you where he found
Matthew Ford because I'm casing the joint hoping to catch the next
motherfucker who's half as fucking good. But anyway, when you listen to "Life Preserver," and you shake your head and sigh at the way twinkling
toy piano sounds get trapped inside a trash can as Finberg breaks your
heart with his little boy loneliness in lines like "See this life
preserver/it was built for one/this life preserver never has no fun,"
you'll know the whole story.
Intelligence
Intelligence
