SUNS OF MARCH are a 6 piece from Montgomery, Alabama who play – as befits their zipcode - good ol’ fashioned southern rock: stuff that The Allman Brothers, Lynyrd Skynyrd and The Eagles excelled at years ago.
The band is built around the song-writing of lead vocalist Michael Wright and some time ago they were a “semi-finalist out of thousands of entries in the Independent Music World Series”.
I never realised that music was a “competition” let alone a World Series.
I’ve read some strange band bios and press releases but the one for SUNS OF MARCH is exceptional in its bizarreness. It claims that their music is a “tremendously gratifying, almost orgasmic experience”. Despite repeated plays I fail to detect any commotion in my underwear. Apparently their music “forms a sound that warms the soul” and that “it is impossible to describe the indescribable”. Most odd is the claim that “everyone listening will be motivated to leisure.”
Not really sure what that last comment means although I did find myself playing the first Blur album sometime later.
Having picked up the gauntlet to “describe the indescribable” (oh the sacrifices I make on your behalf) I can tell you that the SUNS OF MARCH take on southern rock’s blend of blues, country and rock ‘n’ roll is packed with sub-metal riffs but retains a soft and melodic strain courtesy of synthesised strings, electric fiddle and a glossy, stadium-bound production and mix that renders everything anthemic, whether it’s a rocker or a ballad. There is nothing hard or gritty in the sound or in its exposition, the result of there being too much technology sandwiched between their playing the songs and our listening to them.
The band biography (which I now realise is plainly idiotic from start to finish, as if it’s been translated from English to Chinese and back again) would have us believe that this “is a type of boot stomping, head banging music”: which is probably as difficult to undertake as rubbing your tummy with one hand while patting your head with the other. Mind you Angus Young’s been doing it for the past 30 years so there’s hope for us all.
|
In the final analysis I don’t actually have much music to go on as SUNS OF MARCH have decided to only send a 4-track sampler of their self-produced debut album. In hindsight this is a wise move as none of the tracks whet the appetite for more. The quartet of ‘Bulletproof Heart’, ‘San Jose’, ‘I Learned It From You’ and ‘Sentimental Moonlight’ are just too smooth, over-blown and southern deep fried for my sensitive palate.
The lyrics display a typically solid grasp of cliché with such missives as “I ain’t into love no more / Don’t come gunning for me / I’ve got a bulletproof heart / You can shoot all you want”. Yeah right. Bang bang. ‘San Jose’ shows them up to be not very rock ‘n’ roll at all: “Come with me to San Jose / Take a little ride on a southbound plane / You and I will steal away / It’s alright, it’s O.K”.
A plane?
Surely true rockers go by motorbike, Greyhound bus or even a clapped out Cadillac not a flippin’ plane! Besides, haven’t they learned anything from the aerial calamities of Lynyrd Skynyrd?!!
Anyway, enough of my “describing the indescribable” as luckily the band’s biographer has put down his medication long enough to offer this pearl:
“When I listen to Suns of March, I think of a quote Ludwig Van Beethoven once uttered, ‘Music is a revelation; a revelation loftier than all wisdom and all philosophy.’ Suns of March are a voice for today; they dignify a philosophy that can change the world.”
Wow man that’s deep.
Makes me want to get back on my feet and kick that boot stomping and head banging manoeuvre into touch.
|
