Amaranth- California Demon (2010)

Rock duos are underappreciated, and their significance is overlooked. Even in full bands of four or five guys, there's usually two that sync up and play off of each other exclusively that forms the critical foundation of any group. Most usually, it's down to the bassist and drummer that propel and drive each song into a natural groove and rhythm. The ill dubbed genre of math rock has been one of the more prominent styles to feature and spotlight this phenomenon, with a planted seed from Louisville's dark quartet Slint and mass influence from Heavy Vegetable and Don Cabellero throughout the '90s. One of modern year's most well respected, Hella, is a showcase of pure force and spastic melody within this sparse genre, led by the octopussian drummer hero Zach Hill and the eccentric Spencer Seim on guitar. Hold Your Horse Is and There's No 666 in Outer Space both remain as snob favorites, with the latter being Hella's only album to feature lead vocals. Those in question were performed by Aaron Ross, who later formed Amaranth with bandmate Seim to play and release—rather simply in description and sound—straight up rock music. So far they've only played in select basements around the California area, but their debut album is fully accessible and a substantial piece of work. Tracked live with presumably little overdubs, Ross and Seim sync up not unlike that of a youthful Bonham and Jones... a classier Perkins and Avery... a gentler Chippendale and Gibson.

Songwriting duties within California Demon are noticably split up: Ross's tracks are crafted with a sprawling chaos that beckons the anarchy of folk music, while Seim delivers what could be considered Hella if their emotions were to be awfully conservative. Regardless of who wrote what, each track is tightly rehearsed and brimming with purpose. If their contributed work on There's No 666 in Outer Space was an interstellar exercise in existentialism, then California Demon is a trip back to earth with a similar perception but a further view of it, and from a concentrated focus of two people rather than five. The album begs to be played as loud as the ears can handle, enclosing a full spectrum of claustrophobic sound, practically swirling and evolving like a fractal abused with psychedelics. It can be meticulously catchy and downright introspective when it wants, but more importantly its most appealing trait is the unforced development of the duo's unbridled self-expression. The basements they've been playing in aren't the surroundings of someone trying to cash in their celebrity status and make a few dimes, but the surroundings of living in the intimate moment of creation with family and friends, close and far.