Most of the rock and roll I listen to is older than dirt. However, the latest releases from Prism Bitch and The Ordinary Things have shifted the percentage of rock and roll in my current rotation and drastically lowered the average age of the material.

Prism Bitch
Perla (indie)
A review
With hooks and earworms that pop tunes would kill for, butt-kicking power, telling finesse, vocals that range from hair-on-fire to vulnerable fragility, arresting harmonies, memorable lyrics, and an aggressively friendly attitude—all masterfully wrapped up in a polished production by Toshi Kasai in Los Angeles—Perla, the latest release from Albuquerque’s quartet Prism Bitch, is determined that you will have fun, that you will sing along, that you will dance whether you are sitting in your car or cleaning your bathroom, and that will you hit the repeat button repeatedly.

Known for the off-the-wall energy of their live performances, Prism Bitch—Lilah Rose (vocals, keyboard, guitar), Lauren Poole (vocals, bass), Chris Walsh (guitar), Teresa Esguerra (drums)—captures a load of energy on Perla. The songs tell stories, and many of them are about coming to terms with some sort of loss or getting free of some hobbling situation. Every story reaches for light. Even the dystopic “II” ends in a raging affirmation. “In N Out” opens the album with a driving beat and a breathless, frantic plea in a murky situation. “One Shot” slams the car door and hits the gas pedal, squealing away from an albatross. The anthemic “Starlight” contemplates loss and impermanence and aches with a determination to live in the moment, with heart-catching harmonies and a searing guitar from guest Doug Martsch of Built to Spill, with whom Prism Bitch has toured on both coasts. The twang of the supercharged “Lonely Nights” wrestles free from an old flame, and that twang reappears on “Around,” addressing another sort of loss with a heartbroken vocal. The folky feel of “Wasting Time” marks a relationship’s uncertain inflection point:

What’s it going to be, I don’t know right now
What’s it gonna be, I can’t say for sure
What’s it going to be, I just don’t know right now

You broke it but you won’t buy it
I got a fuse but you won’t light it
I got a name but you won’t write it

There are touches of pop, blues, country, folk, classic rock, metal, all pulled together in a sound that cannot be found elsewhere. There’s tenderness and rage, love and loss, certainty and confusion—a bucketful of life’s vicissitudes—and Prism Bitch makes all of it fun.

The Ordinary Things
Something to Believe In (indie)
A review
On their new album, Something to Believe In, The Ordinary Things believe in keeping things simple. They’re a power trio churning out ominous guitar riffs (Andrew Chacon), booming bass (Justin McLauchlin), and thumping drums (Jacqueline Chacon), all without much ornamentation aside from McLauchlin’s occasional synth, and their song structures seldom depart from fundamental chord progressions. The tunes’ sing-song melodies and the reliable repetition of verse and chorus with an occasional bridge exerts a gravitational pull, but what really captures you are the guileless vocals of Jackie Chacon. Her mild alto finds a space between talking and singing, and she lets the music and lyrics do the work, with very little vocal embellishment.

J. Chacon does the bulk of the songwriting, too. She’s looking for something to believe in, in the face of selfishness and greed (“Brother”) and awash in lies and rage (“I’ll Be Leaving”). She knows it’s going to take work to get things righted, and the outcome is not assured (“Lullaby”). She finds solace in the acceptance of impermanence (“Mighty Hand”), in a sense of continuity beyond the grave (“Human”), and in the capacity for love (“Third Eye”):

It’s not a rambling heart, it’s just a love set free
And I want it all to wash over me
It’s never been a better time to open up this chest
Rattling these bones and leaving all the rest

A. Chacon contributes two songs, offering advice about the here and now (“It Doesn’t Matter”) and finding “happiness in a little bit of loneliness” (“Joe’s Song”). McLauchlin has a darker view of things, with a metal edge, as he tries to come to terms with difficult relationships on two tunes (“Fade Away” and “Buried under Ashes”) that seem somewhat out of place on an album that otherwise searches for more positive resolutions.

Something to Believe In will make your head bob and have you humming its earwormy melodies as The Ordinary Things skirt pop territory dressed up in the boom and flash of metal and punk.

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© 2021 Mel Minter