Ovipositor - "Pirate Flag at Half-Mast"

Ovipositor - Harbor Mine (Arbeit Macht Dinge 2007)

Ovipositor - Pirate Flag at Half-Mast / Arbeit Macht Dinge

I had to look up what an ovipositor was before listening to the album. It had been awhile since I'd studied insects, or turtles, or other creatures which lay eggs sans internal embryonic development. This process of laying the eggs, oviposition, is enabled through the ovipositor organ. Placement of the eggs so they can hatch is essentially the ovipositor's job.

The correlation is going to be loose here, but Oakland group Ovipositor seems to be a band that acts as a burrowing arm for their numerous influences (whether they be real or imagined). About 800 different bands come to mind as you listen to Pirate Flag at Half-Mast, not to mention this whole thing. And in some ways, that helps define this band: You know exactly what they sound like if you've ever listened to Arab on Radar or imagined vague elements of The Fall and They Were Wrong, So We Drowned-era Liars orgying it up with Firehouse or a less frightening version of The Pope or something. That's the vibe that we're getting here.

What exactly that means is captured accurately on pretty much every song here. There are few deviations from the sound initially explored on "Duck is Down." Guitarist and singer Colin Frangos jumps straight into the act with a sarcastic monotone that isn't worlds away from Mark E. Smith; the difference is that Frangos starts off excitable at the beginning of the album, but gradually seems to get bored both of himself and of his delivery... To the point that, by the time you reach "Bow Down to the Beer God," he's hardly singing at all (which makes sense because, as Frangos personally pointed out to me, "Bow Down to the Beer God" is an instrumental; well played). The thing is, there's nothing half-assed about Half-Mast: The excitement may be dead by mid-album, but it's an intense apathy that carries itself through to the end of the album.

"Li'l Foamers" is another testament to the sarcastic rants that Frangos utilizes for so much of this album while drummer Mark Pino beats away on the skins with little care for texture or tone. This is straight-ahead rock and there will be nothing but brash beats. The avant-rock squalls and metallic-draped feedback dirges that dominate this record are not unlike the latest incarnation of Hella if they were less about Zach Hill and more about making a farce of their audience. Ovipositor, doing much the same thing, are all about making life difficult for the listener. But repeated plays can yield reward on the lyrics and even catchy melodies. I can't believe I just said that. Ovipositor can be catchy.

Laurin Askew's bass also stands at the head of the class on occasions but on the, um, natural single "Ronnie & Chad," it's Frangos who comes through with his most noticeable delivery since the"Duck is Down." Their dialogue back and forth is mundane at best, but Frangos' shouted chorus over the atonal wails of his guitar adds an epic air to it. "I'd give my lunch hour up for you," he says, and you can just see him rolling his eyes.

But don't roll your eyes at these barely adequate descriptions. Though tons of names can be dropped as reference points (SST to Dischord, Big Black to Scratch Acid), Ovipositor is trying to carve out their own niche in the hills of the Bay area. As one of the most challenging sounds to master (mostly because doing it wrong makes you sound comically boring), this particular kind of lo-fi noise-rock has few currently decent purveyors. That Ovipositor is willing to try may be by accident, but that their success is sufficient to light a fire under this review may say more than the words that are actually here. Something about this band sticks, and even if I'm not quite sure what it is yet, I believe it's coming soon. There is no doubt, at least, that their total commitment to this album has me nodding my head in approval.