![]() ![]() While his contributions to Braid albums often seemed limited to emphatically yelling "yeah!" every once in a while, Hey Mercedes is sorely lacking the hard vocal counterpoint Broach would play to Nanna's sensitive guy act. The one-dimensional nature of the album leads me to say words I never thought I'd utter: I miss Chris Broach. Sure, there's a few stutter-steps in tracks like "A-List Actress" and "The Frowning of a Lifetime," but more common are songs like "Our Weekend Starts on Wednesday" and "What You're Up Against," which roll along with little variation in tempo or volume. Frontman Bob Nanna seems determined to dumb down his songs to reach a wider audience, trading in the polyrhythms and unusual dynamics of old for power chords, power chords, power chords. Still, Robbins helmed the boards on Braid's final and finest full-length, Frame and Canvas, so the blame cannot rest solely with him. Close your eyes, and you can imagine most of these songs on MTV, maybe with the band in funny wigs and playing to a house full of underwear-clad teenagers. Robbins, every rough edge is polished up to a shimmering, radio-friendly gleam. Under the increasingly commercial-minded guidance of J. Snapcase? Well, anyway, given Vagrant's habit of churning out slick pop-punk product for chain-wallet accessorisors that just came down off a bad Blink-182 bender, the warning flags were raised.Īnd indeed, these warning flags proved accurate upon the release of Everynight Fire Works. Then Hey Mercedes broke from Polyvinyl Records, the home of such respectable Midwesterners as AM/FM and Aloha, for Vagrant Records, the home of critically acclaimed artists like. ![]() Their first, self-titled EP was an unimpressive effort, but live shows featured a number of unrecorded songs with potential. When Braid broke up in early 2000, I took comfort in the fact that three-quarters of the band would continue on under a new moniker, without the services of guitarist/screamy-guy Chris Broach. See, Hey Mercedes is 75% of what once was Braid- their answer to "Saved by the Bell: The College Years," if you will. And that's why I can't decide whether I'm disappointed or just plain angry about the vanilla ice-cream blandness of Everynight Fire Works. I know because I was there, pumping my fist to "First Day Back" with the rest of you.
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