Reeves Gabrels

The Sacred Squall of Now (Upstart)
by Lex Marburger

I like to think of Reeves Gabrels as a kind of Peter Gabriel, but much closer to home. He plays what he wants to, destroying minds and ears with the Bentmen, toying with sound forms with David Tronzo, and then, every so often, he thinks, “Oh! I need to re-establish my fan base; let’s just rock on this one,” but he can’t help but throw his noise-making genius into the mostly diatonic The Sacred Squall of Now (Upstart), much like he dominated Tin Machine, even with some guy named Dave as the singer. Gabrels has a way about him, a manner of playing, that sets him apart. His solos have a worldly strangeness that seem to deny time and space, leaving the pedestrian realm and soaring on erratic zephyrs making small whirlwinds in the eddies of his presence. The Sacred Squall of Now is more toned down and almost radio-oriented, perhaps to give people something to grab onto. By “almost” I mean that even with the songs that border on pop (“Problem”), or the one that sounds uncomfortably like Seattle (“B.N.Y.”), Gabrels can’t deny the urge to add some real flavor, making what was once just Scrod into a pan-blackened Cajun dish that will immolate you. Granted, this album is slightly more “commercial” than his other projects, but that in no way means all of the songs here are typical rockers. Gabrels throws in a few songs of dementia and paranoia, usually instrumentals, sometimes with that Dave guy from Tin Machine (I hear he’s done some other stuff, too); and if the rest of the album wasn’t enough to make you walk funny, he ends with a solemn and creepy version of C.C.R.’s “Bad Moon Rising” that cracks your head open with a crowbar to play with the stuff that’s inside.