self-released 
I’m always surprised to see The White Stripes still kicking around. With only two band members, you’d think they’d play out their ideas quickly, but they keep coming up with good material. Likewise, other similar guitarist/singer-with-drums combos like The Black Keys or Portland’s The Hot Tarts seem to hang in there, too, always coming up with good stuff. Meantone is another Portland band working the two member drums-guitar angle, but unlike the others, they teeter on the line. What line? In the words of Derek Smalls, “There is a fine line between clever and stupid.” Tread carefully, fellas. That said, their latest release, “Original Graveyard Blues” is promising musically. Read on.

The songs employ the same punk energy and style that made Jon Spencer a cult favorite. Frontman Meantone drawls out the mostly sex fueled lyrics in the same low, bluesy howl that Spencer uses to great effect while he works his slide up and down the neck of his fretless electric guitar with a satisfying distorted “zzzwip! zzzzeooomp!” Young Brett slaps away at his drum kit and does a swell job of keeping the pocket, while Meantone works his axe and does his Big Bopper-gone-bad vocals. This should appeal to fans of Reverend Horton Heat, the aforementioned Jon Spencer’s Blues Explosion, or even Rob Zombie.

The music is good! It’s rocking and edgy and everything you’d want from this kind of band. The arrangements are interesting and enjoyable. The problems are the lyrical content and, sometimes, the vocal delivery. Songs like “Boobs and Beer” and “Two Hookers and A Case of Beer” seem to clash with the anti-misogyny anthem “Kick Your Ass,” which features a Peter Wolf-like “wubba gubba” rant about “all the guys out there who hassle all the ladies” that falls completely flat. There’s just no suspension of disbelief. Peter Wolf sounds like he talks like that all the time, but Meantone sounds like a guy who is trying to talk like that. “It Shouldn’t Matter,” while admirable with its message about keeping an open mind, suffers from the same delivery issues. Scissorfight’s Iron Lung doesn’t need to explain why he’s called “Iron Lung.” When he’s on stage or on record, he’s fucking Iron Lung. If you’re going to call yourself Meantone, throw yourself into it with reckless abandon! Become the name. I, for one, am hoping more gigs and more songwriting help the band work out these kinks. Their great music deserves it.