Obits

I Blame You (Sub Pop)

By Matthew Siblo
Published: March 29th, 2009 | 9:00am

“We’re not into innovation as a band,” Rick Froberg modestly proclaims in Obits’ press release for its debut, I Blame You. “I think innovation is an overestimated quality... We just go ahead and play the stuff we like, and we don’t worry about originality per se, because that should take care of itself.” Froberg has earned the right to his cavalier attitude after garnering decades’ worth of goodwill playing in iconic bands such as Drive Like Jehu and Hot Snakes. It’s that cachet that makes this declaration feel purpose-driven and not like a defense mechanism. Freed from the burden of having to prove himself, Froberg can now revel in the type of back-to-basics approach that former Hot Snakes and Jehu collaborator John Reis drew upon in his latest project, the Night Marchers.

Considering the dissolution of Hot Snakes was born of geographical and not ideological necessity, both the Night Marchers’ See You in Magic and Obits’ I Blame You present two different, but not necessarily conflicting, ideas of what Hot Snake’s direction might have been had they continued. Both bands fuse the visceral attack of Hot Snakes into hard charging rocknroll, recalling the freewheeling spirit of the Sonics and the Flamin’ Groovies and distilling the fundamentals of guitar rock swagger into its own distinct sound.

It’s hardly surprising then that I Blame You is such an expansive and soulful affair. Reis, having earned his stripes with Rocket From the Crypt’s gonzo greaser routine, would seem a more natural fit for the no-frills routine, yet Froberg is surprisingly game in peeling back his shrill barking for something more tuneful. There’s a great deal of variety on I Blame You, stemming from its thematic dichotomy hinged upon world-weary cynicism and unabashed revelry.

Considering the source, tracks like “Window Of my Dreams” and “Pine On” pack a familiar aggressive punch, as does the caustic diatribe, “SUD.” Songs like “Two-Headed Coin” and “Light Sweet Crude” exercise different demons; their driving, shimmying rhythms channel the menacing cigarette-smoke soul of days past. “Talking To the Dog” liberally borrows a wiry Buzzcocks riff that turns on itself, concluding with an air of goofy festivity. The band captures a similar vibe on “Back and Forth,” its stark Motown backbeat giving way to its wild and woolly stomp.

If I Blame You sounds like an alchemist’s bag of tricks, its variation is never to the detriment of its cohesion, nor does it exude the workman-like detachment of a genre exercise. If this is Obits carelessly disregarding innovation, one can only wonder what might come if they ever decide to care. Or maybe it’s best they never do.

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