FUZZBOX
Some Tranquil Devices (Violent Sun/Surd Sounds/Grand Hi-Pitched Music/Wolfe EP; 2001)
Published in BigO No. 192 (December 2001)

By Mark Wong

Somewhere in the tender spaces between dream and reality, violence and compassion, phantasms and life's chasms, lies Some Tranquil Devices. Fuzzbox's third EP after 1997's eponymous debut and 1998's Zero Tondo is an immaculate return to form: pensive broods and Siamese dreams between waking lashes of ripcharge guitar propulsion.

I've been a fan since experiencing the band's electric live shows some years back. And since Shuan Grosse, Linda Ong, Ho Kah Why (aka "Y") and Loo Eng Teck have been sadly absent from the gigging circuit for some time now, this EP is a welcome release from this promising local band.

Beginning with the pensive "Thrown", Fuzzbox brings us on an audio trip through a post-grunge/modern rock urban landscape pervaded by discordant emotions of numbness and empathy. Here, relationships hang in the balance, the limits of sanity are crossed and fantasy threatens to consume reality--all amid the deafening silences.

The music explores these conflicts of the heart and soul. Grosse and Y conjure up a reverie of hushed and heavy dynamics; from track to track, their guitars buzz, tinkle and wail, careen and glide, calm and agitate. Obvious influences include Pearl Jam, Smashing Pumpkins and The Smiths.

Where too many Singaporean releases have disappointed in the vocal department, Fuzzbox boast two capable singers in Grosse and bassist Ong. Grosse comes from the same school of grunge crooners as Eddie Vedder, with a voice both gravel and leather. He handles the rocking-restless "Losing Sleep" and sensitive "Touch the Sun" equally well.

On alternate tracks, Ong's vocals provide a sort of yin-yang complement. Mesmerising and alluring, Ong's aching vocals convey wistfulness, seductive charm, tragedy and innocence--usually all at once. On "(Dead White) Butterflies", she aches and chokes in the refrain: "I'm hurt by the words you don't say." "My Left Brain" casts her as yearning lover in a Bonnie and Clyde fantasy. "Let's rob a bank/Kill your wife/Let's blow up the satellite", but eventually the feeling is one of emptiness and nihilism. "Tell me what we're living for?"

With seven tracks and at 34 minutes, Some Tranquil Devices is a compact and cohesive piece of work. It certain whets the appetite for a full-length debut. (7)

CAMRA
Normally Open (Stained Death Music; 2004)
Published in Aging Youth #17 (June 2005)

by Mark Wong

This has to be one of the surprise releases of the year. Some seven years after we last heard from them, Camra return to the fray with a ten song-strong album, Normally Open, as if not a single day has passed since the release of "Who Wants To Know" on the BigO Singles Club No. 4.

This continuity isn't an illusion: the band, whose lineup has remained unchanged, had been recording the album since 1998.

As it turns out--depending on how one sees it--this is both Camra's strength and weakness. At its best, Normally Open is a beneficiary of time, which has not only sharpened the band's songcraft but also allowed for some very fine recording and production work, capturing perfectly a languid yet lush shoegazer feel. This has resulted in a sonic stew of simmering songs that conjure hallucinatory visions, slow(ly)-burning themselves into your brain.

At its worst, however, Normally Open sounds exactly like what it is: an album released at least seven years too late; somewhat mired in mid-90's Britain, it sounds a tad dated.

Normally Open seems to traverse The Verve's entire career, from muddy A Storm in Heaven dreamscapes (turn up the vocal/guitar reverbs, love) to the sweet, draped stringscrapes of Urban Hymns (the epic nine-minute "My Reflections", for instance, has a wry refrain which foreshadows its symphonic ending: "feel so highly-strung today/don't wanna make it go away").

Any diversions (no matter how slight) are still decidedly Anglophilic: "All Our Remedies'"is a speedier and punchier sibling of Oasis' "Cast No Shadow", which sees vocalist Marvin swaggering as though cheek by jowl with the Gallaghers in a packed tavern. Elsewhere, such as on "Reasons", we get hijacked by sitars and tablas; while I wouldn't go so far as to call this Indian mysticism-by-way-of-Kula Shaker, one can't help but make the connection. Call this Southern Soul, if you will (the thirteenth word of the album is "transcendence": go figure).

The final twist, however, is that as alluded earlier, Normally Open grows on you--if you give it time; it's as if each time you play it, it reveals a little more of its soul to you. Camra have whipped out an accomplished album, if at times stymied by its particularities. This is a band to watch out for--although, hopefully, not just once every seven years.