On May 1, 2004, Sean O’Neal had a date with destiny.
Before that evening, the Austin resident had already gained notoriety and renown in the city’s indie-rock community for many reasons. One of the most superficial was his puffed-up hairdo, which made him look like the missing sixth member of Duran Duran. Another reason was his infamous Whirl-Mart project, part goofy prank and part social critique, in which he and his cohorts wandered around local Wal-Marts with empty shopping carts until they got kicked out, all the while refusing to buy anything during the process. Then, there were his various musical exploits, most of which were partially vehicles through which he paid tribute to his favorite band, the Fall. One band, This Microwave World, had slight house music tendencies whereas his other band, the Arm, was a more straightforwardly rocking outfit. What both bands had in common was Sean’s vocal delivery, which patterned itself after all of Fall front man Mark E. Smith’s most recognizable traits. Sean shared Mark’s refusal to adhere to pitch and melody, his brash and hectoring tone, and his addition of the syllable “uh” to every other word in order to ensnare lyrics into his rhythmic grasp.
On May 1, 2004 the Fall came to Austin and played a great set on the outside stage at Emo’s. No one who knew Sean was surprised to see him standing right in front of the stage, rocking out to his favorite band, just a few feet away from another Sean whom you all know and love (ha!). After nearly a decade of hovering under the cultural radar, The Fall were slowly starting to regain their prominence in the American underground rock scene, and no one seemed to be more aware of this than Mark E. Smith himself. He had developed a habit of ending Fall shows by nonchalantly dropping the microphone in the audience, allowing his most rabid fans to finish the last song of the set for him as he walked off the stage. Most of the time, Smith didn’t bother to acknowledge the people reaching the microphone, simply letting it land wherever it landed. This time, though, was different…more premeditated. While his backing band churned out the two-chord riff to “Dr. Buck’s Letter,” Mark looked around for a specific audience member to hand the microphone to.
Sean O’Neal stood right in front of Smith, and he couldn’t have been in a better place at a better time. Mark looked directly at Sean and gave him the microphone. Sean then seized the opportunity to make musical history by “singing” “Dr. Buck’s Letter” from start to finish, doing a perfect impersonation of Smith that was more energetic and inspired than Smith’s own performance, to the visible amazement of the backing musicians. All of the time O’Neal had spent imitating Smith in his own bands had paid off. For four minutes, Sean BECAME Mark E. Smith…and did a better job at being Mark E Smith than the original! I think I can speak for Sean (yes, I know the guy and consider him a friend) when I say that he’ll remember his date with destiny for the rest of his life.
Here’s why the preceding anecdote should matter to you. If the Fall’s most recent album (which will be issued domestically this month) doesn’t sate your appetite for arty, tone-deaf punk rock, then the Arm’s eponymous debut EP should do the trick. It basically sounds like Mark E. Smith fronting Les Savy Fav, and even O’Neal is smart enough to admit his own artistic transparency in an excerpt from EP highlight “Song Automatic 1-2-3”: “Good evening…we are NOT the Fall! I speak/sing in calculated tones---a homage (the French call it ‘frommage’)---rather than take a new direction, just to get your attention!” Later on in the song he asserts, “Good artists make and great artists STEAL.” On the strength of these eight songs, Sean may have a point.
The EP kicks off with its most intense song “You’re a Winner.” It’s little more than two notes driven into the ground for 90 seconds by a fast, stomping 2/4 rhythm while Sean shouts through a distorted microphone about the apocalypse. The song instantly segues into “Get Down with the Death of the City,” a disco anthem in which none of the instruments play in the same key as the others. “Bright Young Men” is sung through the point of view of a musician caught up in the realization that his band sucks and that his audience consists solely of sympathetic friends. “D-Stressed” is a fragmented narrative about a businessman contemplating suicide. “Age of Consent” is an ominous and appropriately named castigation of would-be pedophiles. “Robots vs. the Arm” is like Terminator 2 in reverse, an ode to the human overthrow of machines instead of vice versa. The EP is sequenced incredibly well, as each song ends up being more sprawling and
anthem-like than the one preceding it.
It’s nice to know that O’Neal hasn’t just mastered MES’ vocal delivery. He’s also picked up both his mentor’s knack for interesting lyrical conceits and his tendency to assemble backing bands that play hard and tight enough to turn mind-numbing repetition and awkward dissonance into virtues. Congratulations, Sean, on a job well done. Now all you have to do is make 20 or 30 more albums of this quality before you can REALLY brag about being this generation’s Mark E. Smith and let some young buck with a weird hairdo finish your songs for you at shows…
---Sean Padilla
Artist Website: http://www.thismicrowaveworld.com
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