Defying Post-Rock cynicism, this one-man band drives solid four/four beats, funneling noisy, blissfully bittersweet guitars from their Pandora's Box of feedback into angular, disarming anthems.
Dissonant bass notes echo the melodies which would otherwise be lost, while a layered croon struggles to reach through the buzzing whirl of notes, cymbals, and feedback.
A Guided by Voices comparison is necessary and warranted but ultimately a point of reference rather than one of contention.
The voice of Thurston Moore, trapped in Lou Barlow's body, attempting to sell a used car to Gene Simmons.
Being unsuccessful with this pitch, this Moore/Barlow hybrid then tries to pawn off said auto to Robert Pollard, who then gives him/them much less than it was worth.
Hiro Noodles is a real enigmatic do-it-yourselfer, playing all the instruments on his new CD most of the time, playing most of the instruments sometimes.
His music is often stripped to the drums/guitar basics, crumbling into spare tire piles of feedback or melting into slow, shimmering divulgences on tracks like "Burned Out Shine." More interesting still are his too-few piano pieces.
Placed throughout the record, they serve as interludes, fireside confessions that Neil Young might have scrapped at the last minute.
Noodles allows his friends to pop in between songs and mention their poetry, giggle about expensive gambling blunders or leave phone messages claiming Mr.
Noodles to be "the best thing since mason jars," lending this 63-minute, 17-song disk a cohesive incohesiveness.
Peace and pills or demon hell with song it is my non-choice to loose digitized and reflected hissy giggles and long coat lurking along cold crowds and newspapers studied drunk and forgotten like those codes they kept repeating, remember?