By request, here is a review of HaSkaLA’s 2010 debut album Untethered & Undone (Danceable Bliss Discs) published at my weblog Mencken’s Ghost: Shining a Light on the Endarkenment shortly after the album’s release. The above video was shot, directed, and edited by the inestimable Don Adams.
-->It could be worse.
The morose and down-hearted among us (or those who, while satisfied in their personal lives, remind their eternally cheerful acquaintances that they live in a fallen society) frequently hear such a riposte, whether intended out of encouragement or out of disgust that some actually reject the optimism of Leibniz and do not settle for injustice and mediocrity. Of course, they are technically correct.
Sometimes they are essentially, more completely correct as well.
A band called HaSkaLA has released their debut disc, Untethered & Undone (Danceable Bliss Discs). It is a stark, vital reminder—if one were needed (and, these days, one often is)—that some of the last rays of the Enlightenment have yet to be extinguished.
Which is appropriate enough, because the band’s name is a Hebrew word that refers to the Enlightenment.
HaSkaLA is a self-proclaimed “ska” band, but one cursory listen at their first album (an essentially complete recording of their first—only, as of this writing—show, on April 15 of this year at Molly Malone’s in Fairfax Village, Los Angeles) reveals a diverse, if not protean, ensemble (lead vocals etc., two guitars, keyboards, trumpet, saxophone, trombone, bass guitar, and drums) that refuses to be pigeon-holed with any label: perhaps not even “rock” or “pop.”
With trademark, understated, free-market political awareness, lyricist/frontman Steven Schub starts the festivities (which, in an anachronistically defiant manner, is exactly what the performance is) with a romp-through of The Beatles’ “Taxman” (note the occasion), the three horns coloring HaSkaLA’s arrangement to good effect. Dave Mastas’ guitar solo has echoes of composer George Harrison, but it is more homage than mimicry, being equal parts early American rock & roll and blues.
The band’s title song follows. “HaSkaLA” is a mid-tempo mission statement and a reminder that, no matter how cerebral and ideological Schub’s reputation (he fronts an equally impressive ska band called The Fenwicks), he is equally known for rousing, entertaining, joyous, physical anthems. It sounds like a re-writing (unconscious or subconscious, apparently) of The Clash’s “White Man in Hammersmith Palais.” It is unusually tight, melodic, soulful, and energetic for a new band playing their first original song for the first time in times like the present. It is completely, refreshingly satisfying.
And it is easily the least important song on Untethered & Undone. That is how essential Untehered & Undone is.
By the time “Obscene Love-Machine Supreme” enters the listener’s cerebrum, it is apparent that HaSkaLA has dispensed will all contemporary rules and expectations. The band is “too big,” they are “too flamboyant,” they are “too intellectual” (more on that below), they are (paradoxically, not incongruously) “too emotional” (but not histrionic), they are “too ‘libertarian’ [Objectivists, please excuse the term],” and, writing of paradoxes, they are too insistent on being happy-go-lucky and serious simultaneously.
All of the above reasons, and more, make them essential to anyone starved for that elusive amalgam of melody, passion, thought, feeling, skill, and (rational) ideas in modern music. If you thought, like this writer, that such a phenomenon was impossible in the twenty-first century, then you have been proven wrong.
“Obscene Love-Machine Supreme” is the first of a roller coaster of original songs showcasing Schub’s supple voice and the band’s focused, integrated sound. Integrated is perhaps the most apposite adjective for the whole presentation, as such an effortless, seamless blend of lyrics and music, with such stunning thematic effect, was unusual before, as well (perhaps the themes of reason, individualism, and capitalism, so rare in a “rock” context, underscore the effectiveness). Like some of the others, the aforementioned song has a plaintive undercurrent, but (like said others) its resilience overpowers any plaintiveness. The rhythm section stands out on this one: drummer Tony Pagano delivers a performance equal parts jazz and metal with speedy (double-bass?) pedal work, and bassist Julie Gibbs provides a lithe anchor for the other instruments. Tangentially, Schub’s vocal foil Curtis Politt, a biped with one foot in the rhythm section, contributes distinguishing rhythm upstrokes on his Telecaster.
The raucous “More Is More” offers more uncharacteristic metal overtones, with slight, uncharacteristic dissonance from the horn section. Surprisingly, the slight dissonance is perfect in this context.
“Woke-Up. Wake-Up!” is the most serious (certainly the most intellectually serious) song on the album. A galvanizing, impassioned rallying cry for the once-great United States and its citizens to reverse a century’s worth of steadily (and, lately, exponentially) increasing assaults on economic and personal freedom, it is the band’s own more essential, integrated, and philosophical “Taxman.” More than any other HaSkaLA song, it is a jackhammer blasting away at the culture-wide notion that reason and emotion are antagonistic.
“Cyrano’s Nose,” like its title, is an oddity, an entertaining if slightly unsettling mix of recondite, allusive lyrics and simple, frivolous music. One almost wishes they married those lyrics to more transcendent music, but this band challenges their listeners as well as themselves and traverses nearly every mood and style.
Such as show tunes, if the delightful (and tense) “Our Love (is a Car Crash)” is any indication.
Then, the originals are rounded out with “Neither Her (Nor There),” which may be the finest track overall on a disc teeming with fineness. Like many of HaSkaLA’s songs (in contrast to Schub's Fenwicks lyrics), it is more focused on emotion than reason, though neither is ever completely absent when this wordsmith is at work. It is to failed- or unrequited-love songs what “Woke-Up. Wake-Up!” is to culture and politics. All of these songs transcend genre labels, but such labels are often helpful, and this one can reasonably be described as borrowing from 1980’s new wave. Brad Watson’s plangent organ chords compliment the palpable longing in the words (one can forgive the paraphrasing of Gertrude Stein given the lyricist’s otherwise impeccable taste), but this is not, fundamentally, a sad song. It is, in some ways, a more effective answer song to “I’ll Never Fall In Love Again” than Sammy Hagar’s “I’ll Fall In Love Again.” At least as much as every other song present, this one exudes (if only by implication) subtle yet stubborn resilience and perseverance. Mastas' unrelenting, agressive fusillade of a solo cannot be missed.
The disc ends with a (literal and figurative) encore, a medley of Rolling Stones songs. The listener can almost see Schub jumping and prancing across the Molly Malone’s stage in one of his trademark ostentatious outfits during “Happy,” exhorting the audience to defy the darkness outside in Fairfax Village and the world beyond and do whatever it takes to ensure that the sentiment in the Jagger/Richards song becomes a reality. The horns—trombonist Christine Cheung, saxophonist Matt Thompson, and trumpet player Danny Kay—are the understated stars of this one, too.
Untethered & Undone is available at cdbaby.com and iTunes. You need it.
And HaSkaLA will be appearing at the following California stops of the Vans Warped Tour: Carson (Los Angeles), June 25; Mountain View (San Francisco), June 26; Ventura, June 27; and Chula Vista (San Diego), August 10.
If you need to be reminded—or informed for the first time—what live music used to be like, you need to see them.
Especially if, like this writer, you also need a constant reminder that it could be worse.