» Full Dark, No Stars - Stephen King's new novella questions mankind's ability to trust others.
[02.21.2011 by Bridget Doyle]


 » The Top 30 Albums of 2010 - Fashionably, fabulously late, our favorite music (and believe me, there was a LOT) of 2010, the year that some have called the best year for music ever. And only some of those fools work here. Plenty of usual suspects, lots of ties and a few surprises that I won't spoil, including our unexpected #1.
[12.24.2010 by The LAS Staff]


 » Live: Surfer Blood/The Drums at Lincoln Hall, Chicago, IL - Remember when Weezer used to put together records that you could sing along to and rock out to? That's what Surfer Blood's show was like!
[11.04.2010 by Cory Tendering]

Music Reviews

Screaming Females - Castle Talk
»Screaming Females
Castle Talk
Don Giovanni
Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross - The Social Network [Original Soundtrack]
»Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross
The Social Network [Original Soundtrack]
The Null Corporation
Deerhunter - Halcyon Digest
Halcyon Digest
No Age - Everything in Between
»No Age
Everything in Between
Sub Pop
Robyn - Body Talk Pt. 1/ Body Talk Pt. 2
Body Talk Pt. 1/ Body Talk Pt. 2
The Walkmen - Lisbon
»The Walkmen
Fat Possum
Local H
Twelve Angry Months
Shout! Factory

Rating: 7.6/10 ?

May 13, 2008
What I love about Scott Lucas is that he made one excellent record exactly ten years ago called Pack Up the Cats (I think it was supposed to be a concept album) and it went nowhere, and now he skulks around with his guitar like he's entitled to be a piss-ant, albeit one for whom emo never existed. Now the world's greatest cryogenically frozen grungeboy refuses to snap out his conniption and marks the ten-year anniversary of Pack Up the Cats with not some complacent-ass DVD or reissue with bonus tracks but rather a new album just to flip the bird to anyone who thought Local H was history along with their era.

Twelve Angry Months is yet another argument to let this chronically underrated band continue to thrive and exist outside time and space. They've made great anthems in the last ten years (most notably the hilarious fuck-off-David-Lee-Roth "California Songs") and rode great gimmicks (covering Britney Spears' "Toxic," presenting fans with sushi menus of song options to request at shows) like radio still gave a fuck, or rather, was still radio.

They may have lost the real drummer, the label bucks, whatever, but Lucas is proudly riding his last scrap of Local H shrapnel to nowhere, regardless of how many copies of As Good As Dead are clogging your neighborhood record store's dollar bin on any given day. Twelve Angry Months is Lucas' best album in a decade, and arguably his catchiest. Not his most powerful. At this point Lucas just boils everything down to its sap: every song here is an excuse to bitch about the ex, with a month for each one to correspond to exactly how long it took him to get so pissed off. These range from hilarious (March: "You're just another fake who drives a BMW") to miserable (April: "Yeaaaaaaaah, I hope you have a lonely life").

Lucas hasn't lost any of his reluctant charm, like when he gets up the strength to date again ("Did you say you vote Republican? Well can I get you another sloe gin?" or when he demands the titular Pretenders record back in "The One With 'Kid'" (though I refuse to believe he actually listens to dull-ass Interpol). And his knack for discordant melody is Cobainlike compared to anything K-Rock (or Dave Grohl) has shit up in ten years: The pleasures of "Michelle (Again)" and "Jesus Christ! Did You See the SIZE of That Sperm Whale?" won't be unfamiliar to anyone who's banged their head to Aerosmith's "Shut Up and Dance." "Simple Pleas" is a stirring ballad for someone who "thrives on jealousies," and "24 Hour Break-Up Session" turns the hopeless plaint "we knew we'd never make it anyway" into a fist-pumping one, complete with a needle-thin guitar bridge with a hint of "Misirlou" surf. Turning misery into pleasure. Really, Carlos D, it's that simple.

Reviewed by Dan Weiss
Dan Weiss is the music editor for LAS. Formerly an editorial intern at CMJ and creator of the now defunct What was It Anyway?, his work has appeared in Village Voice, Pitchfork, Philadelphia Inquirer, Stylus and Crawdaddy among others. He resides in Brooklyn where he enjoys questionable lifestyle choices and loud guitars.

See other reviews by Dan Weiss



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