Ever since their wonderfully ramshackle and seemingly off-the-cuff debut album, Coma Cave ‘13, appeared out of the Southwest blue in 2014 like a holy grail custom press pop album, Tucson’s Freezing Hands have been going against the prevailing forces, while paying little attention to fleeting trends and flash in the pan scenes. Who else offered a Zombies-ish cover of the Impressions’ “You Must Believe Me”? Moreover, I consider 2016’s Freezing Hands II one of the 10 best albums released last decade. (It was hard to keep up during 2010-2019, as there were stacks of remarkable releases-especially in comparsion to this already disqualified decade.) With the departure of so many musicians this decade, I have embraced the concept of a workhorse-like clockwork band, releasing captivating records and hopefully stepping up to stages in the Southwest-if Covid conditions continue to thankfully improve. Additionally, their immediately catchy songs like “See’s Candy Girl” and “Born in July” are seemingly in such short supply and acts that once were influenced by the ‘60s and ‘70s power pop have moved on to ‘80s slickness (e.g., Mystic Braves) or even the ‘90s (Harsh Mistress) in the form of vaporwave.
Don’t take the album title as face value, as it's not a posthumous parting shot. This streadfast quartet, with decades of experience in a variety of Tucson bands, are now operating in perfect working order. The opener “Too Good for Too Long'' surges out of the speakers with a hammering stripped-down Stooges piano riff, Clem Burke-like drum fills and keyboards that evokes the Cuts when they customized the Cars and Matthew Smith took the wheel of production from Reigning Sound’s Greg Cartwright. The incendiary “Don’t Ask Me (as I’m Walking Out the Door)” lands somewhere in churn and burn territory that was once the domain of the Dickies and the margins of Marked Men with its beseeching vocals and cycloning guitars. Faster, fuller, larger and louder are the operative words to differentiate the start of this album from previous mid-fi efforts. Still, have no fear as Rendon is not going Andy Wallace on us with his production.
Consistent Track Record
Along with arguably having the best singing voice in Tucson, Spillers could be considered the punk poet laureate of the old pueblo, whose lyrics could be read under a tent at Tucson’s Festival of Books. In addition, I’ve always detected a bit of Bob Mould and Mike Watt when it comes to the artistic intensity and econo ethos in Spillers. “Pallet Gun” seems guided by the magnetic poetry school of Robert Pollard and aligns near the head space of Frank Black. “Broken and Unspoken” serves up the razzle dazzle while examining the human psyche. In other words, it’s like the Young Fresh Fellows going “Space Truckin”’ with its coiling swells of organ and sing-along chorus bursting down the straightaways.
There is also a definite glam slam element that connects both ends of the ‘70s spanning the theatrical rock of Alice Cooper, the Tubes, through Bowie’s “Suffragette City” (esp. “Mobius Strip”) to the Dawn of the Dickies and circularing back only to later reappear at the door to ring in the Knockout Pills. Underneath the glitz of the stomping “Here With The Babies,” is a rushing undercurrent of wry social commentary that evokes The Beanery, the 1965 walk-in art installation by Edward Kienholz or a recent weekend night of my own when I went back to the crush of humanity at a Deke Dickerson show at Tempe's Yucca, only to encounter many peripheral aspects involving live music that I hadn’t missed one iota. The space invading (beyond the venue's Electric Bat Arcade) and the weight being thrown around made one miss nominal notions of social distancing that was practiced by some for the last two years.
Date Shake
The record lifts off with the glorious “Lovers of Humanity.” It’s simply the perfect pop song of the year in full out Beach Boys glory. The wrecking crew pop comes complete with Matt Rendon employing Hal Blaine's signature pattern “Bum-ba-bum-BOOM!” first laid down in “Be My Baby.” The record soars like the Dukes of the Stratosphere getting “Near Wild Heaven” with its radiant melodies and harmonies galore and restores my faith in Freezing Hands, music and humanity. These Tucson Toros fans are not afraid to be ambitious and hit it out of Tucson Electric Park and the hits keep coming!
“Too Many Keys” expresses something we can relate to when some of us are now carrying as many figurative or literal keys as a janitor for our jobs. The song combines verses remenicient of Ted Leo and the Pharmacists with a chorus blending seamlessly into a Fleetwood Mac Greatest Hit or should I mention 38 Special-hanging on loosely before the bright tones of a Wurlitzer Spinet piano played by Scott Landrum appears as the solo and fondly evokes Zumpano. In addition, card game references and a sideways glance to the Steve Miller Band coincide to reveal their ace-up-the-sleeve.
Extending the Range
With its layered harmonies, masterclass arrangement and varied textures “Regurts” is a sonic declaration that Spillers has come a considerable distance from the hardcore of Los Federales (which has proven foundational in Spillers' musical development and continues to informs their sound). “Life All Your Own” features that faux fifties vocalizing inside an English music hall that stretches back to the long gone Tucson bands of 2004 yore like Galactic Federation of Love with both bands’ dedicated following of the Kinks. I’m somehow suspecting Spillers might be the biggest Kinks fan this side of Lance Loud. “Timing Belt” and “Eric Hubbard’s Long Game” are rambling, yet snappy as pearl buttons numbers that take the scenic route and could be a loose salute to the recently departed Mike Nesmith.
The striking lyrics contained within offer another dimension as they straddle the line between the straightforward and the oblique. Not only does Spillers demonstrate the keen power of observation, but he is able to transform the raw security footage of life into magnetic melodies and appealing songs in lighting rod fashion. The quotidian concerns and competing priorities of the work week enter in and provide the songs a work/life presence and immediacy. You might find yourself singing the aforementioned “Too Many Keys...” around the house while looking for your keys or a door badge as 8 am rapidly approaches and time seemingly skips forward.
The striking lyrics contained within offer another dimension as they straddle the line between the straightforward and the oblique. Not only does Spillers demonstrate the keen power of observation, but he is able to transform the raw security footage of life into magnetic melodies and appealing songs in lighting rod fashion. The quotidian concerns and competing priorities of the work week enter in and provide the songs a work/life presence and immediacy. You might find yourself singing the aforementioned “Too Many Keys...” around the house while looking for your keys or a door badge as 8 am rapidly approaches and time seemingly skips forward.
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| Matt Rendon (drums) & Travis Spillers (guitar) |
The Dynamic Duo
In similar fashion to his musical counterpart and fellow Freezing Hand Matt Rendon, who I once described as "The bard of barbed précis on the pitfalls on the scene," Spillers also dispenses veiled references on Tucson’s lively music scene by catching and releasing slice of life vignettes which intelligently lambast over and under the abundant hooks. Still, Spillers is never sanctimonious as he employs a self-effacing sense of humor along with realizing a pointed finger means there are three fingers pointing back. Furthermore, satire is just one of their many tricks as few can currently match their knack for fastening hooks and melodies, musical knowledge and overall range of songwriting approaches to express their musical visions.
Peak Performance
The unsung quartet has always seemingly and smartly been off to the side and wary of putting their time and efforts into any singular musical movement because they have been around long enough to know scenes fizzle out and eventually fade away or implode overnight. Fittingly, their straight-ahead, yet slanted sound does not coalesce into any ready-made categories or time periods. Overall, these pop prospectors are one of the leading bands currently turning out a distinctive and enduring sound and making their own way in the Intermountain West. Out in the haze the desert mirage is real, the purple mountain laurel is blooming and Freezing Hands have struck their tone and reached another sonic peak.
