At first listen, San Dimas-based Call Me Crash might sound like your typical teen angst band. With their lyrics about suicide and various other melancholy subjects, and whiney, emo-inspired vocals, it’s an easy mistake to make. They seem like the type of band that sits around extolling the musical genius of acts like I Hate Myself or Rites Of Spring while trading Emo Emu buttons amongst themselves.
We would never condone the existence of another moaning generic band glomming on to emo’s suspicious popularity, especially one that stringently sticks to the genre’s conventions of churning out radio-friendly sound-alike ditties replete with broken-heart songs (or worse, how in the end everything will be alright). There’s always room for optimism in rock music—it can’t be heavy and dark all the time. But that kind of reassurance number is overdone.
Happily, aside from the down-in-the-dumps lyrics and nasally vocals, the band avoids the typical trappings that would mire a lesser band in a creative dead zone. Few local bands project the bitter stagnancy of depression with a twangy, acoustic guitar better than Call Me Crash. The band is also adept at throwing fits of explosive rage with choppy, distorted guitars and acrimonious gravelly screams. They’re definitely not the band to provide the soundtrack for emotional scenes on bad TV shows.
The band sounds raw and real. Their recordings are devoid of any hint of overproduction, and it gives their music an authentic, edgy, punky feeling that’s lacking in most underground emo-style acts. Call Me Crash don’t write self-indulgent mopey songs—they just rock out.
More info and song clips available at www.myspace.com/callmecrashmusic.
Attention Riverside/San Bernardino County bands (you too, Claremont, La Verne and Pomona)! Mail your CDs and tapes (along with your vital contact info, plus any impending performance dates) for possible review to: Band of the Week, IE Weekly, 2175 Sampson Ave., Ste. 118, Corona, CA 92879. Or you can be lazy and e-mail us your MySpace link to email@example.com.