Hello, hello.
After yesterday's glorious surplus of a double post, today I thought I'd share something with you that is a little more personal. Friends of mine first gave me the drop on this excellent but now sadly defunct group. They were mainstays and darlings of the MPLS scene, gathering a devoted following and some national buzz until their dissolution at the hands of divergent personal lives and careers. By the time I got on board they were almost at the end of their road, releasing just one more album and doing only a handful of shows. Still, I was thrilled to hear The Plastic Constellations live just the few times I could, and their awesome music still lives on in various forms.
Formed by teenagers in the mid 90s, The Plastic Constellations (or TPC as I'll allow myself to truncate from now on) were all students at Hopkins High School. By scoring a lucky gig at First Ave early in their career, the band quickly created a buzz around their passionate sound and set to steady gigging on weekends. As years went by they continuously released record after record, making a lo-fi yet intricate canon of indie rock that is, at times, difficult to describe. When my friends introduced me to TPC and their sound, the only words he would use were "passionate" and "motivating". I honestly didn't know what to make of it, but hearing them brought the idea sharply into focus.
Turns out he was right.
The music these guys were creating was pretty much that - just passionate songs performed by intensely devoted, motivated people. While their early work certainly shows the talent they were cultivating, it's their last two albums that really move me. From the opening chord of 'Phoenix & The Faultline', the first track on their penultimate Crusades, it's all systems go. They immediately kick into high gear and don't stop for the next 36 minutes. Just the first line of the album could stand as a motif for the band's entire style and stance - "We're not going to the Belly of The Beast! We may be wrong but we refuse to just retreat!" The album never loses that momentum either - it's full bore until the last song. In a true test of their song craft, though, it doesn't become a draining affair. There's not an ounce of fat on Crusades, all the songs are fantastic. From the heavy grooves of 'Quixote' to the menacing mystic picking of 'Bring What You Bring', they throw down infectious, engaging tunes that have a life of their own.
Their final album, the epitome of their work, was the awesome 'We Appreciate You'. The album is the apex to their hard-won career. Full of the leveled-up versions of their signature riffs and whip-saw time-signature changes, the 'We Appreciate You' is an album that showed them at their A game. Songs like 'Stay That Way' and 'Black Market Pandas' are excellent examples of the band's sound. They're phenomenal mixes of the bombastic, shout-along choruses and mathematically detailed rhythms of the verses. The album is clearly TPC at their zenith, it's just a shame it had to be the end.
The one bright side to the band's demise is that they can still be heard and have an impact. They're not only a great example of what the Twin Cities can produce, but some members are still making great music, like guitarist/vocalist Aaron Mader, aka Lazerbeak. Lazerbeak makes the lava-bangers for the hip-hop collective Doomtree, who quite frankly make the best music in the Middle of America (pending post is forthcoming, give it time, people - there's ten of them). Regardless, The Plastic Constellations made some great, great rock music that is sorely missed in Minneapolis. Despite having recently reunited for a show to celebrate another Doomtree record release, there's no definite plans on the horizon. Until they do we have all their amazing albums to hold us over.
After yesterday's glorious surplus of a double post, today I thought I'd share something with you that is a little more personal. Friends of mine first gave me the drop on this excellent but now sadly defunct group. They were mainstays and darlings of the MPLS scene, gathering a devoted following and some national buzz until their dissolution at the hands of divergent personal lives and careers. By the time I got on board they were almost at the end of their road, releasing just one more album and doing only a handful of shows. Still, I was thrilled to hear The Plastic Constellations live just the few times I could, and their awesome music still lives on in various forms.
Formed by teenagers in the mid 90s, The Plastic Constellations (or TPC as I'll allow myself to truncate from now on) were all students at Hopkins High School. By scoring a lucky gig at First Ave early in their career, the band quickly created a buzz around their passionate sound and set to steady gigging on weekends. As years went by they continuously released record after record, making a lo-fi yet intricate canon of indie rock that is, at times, difficult to describe. When my friends introduced me to TPC and their sound, the only words he would use were "passionate" and "motivating". I honestly didn't know what to make of it, but hearing them brought the idea sharply into focus.
Turns out he was right.
The music these guys were creating was pretty much that - just passionate songs performed by intensely devoted, motivated people. While their early work certainly shows the talent they were cultivating, it's their last two albums that really move me. From the opening chord of 'Phoenix & The Faultline', the first track on their penultimate Crusades, it's all systems go. They immediately kick into high gear and don't stop for the next 36 minutes. Just the first line of the album could stand as a motif for the band's entire style and stance - "We're not going to the Belly of The Beast! We may be wrong but we refuse to just retreat!" The album never loses that momentum either - it's full bore until the last song. In a true test of their song craft, though, it doesn't become a draining affair. There's not an ounce of fat on Crusades, all the songs are fantastic. From the heavy grooves of 'Quixote' to the menacing mystic picking of 'Bring What You Bring', they throw down infectious, engaging tunes that have a life of their own.
