Rocky Votolato - Makers

Genre rock Publisher Barsuk Records External Links Official Website Barsuk Records

I have three ex-lovers all hopped up on killing themselves. The misunderstood, wounded soul types, two guys and one girl. I'm still in touch with two of these people, and really cannot stand that aspect of their psyches. What the hell. I can see very few justifiable reasons for suicide, and none of these people have one. Neither does Rocky Votolato as far as I know, and on his fourth full-length album Makers, Votolato pretty much does nothing but whine about his desire to off himself. This theme from beginning to end completely distracted me from appreciating his impressive vocal and guitar playing skills. From the opening song, "White Daisy Passing" in which he declares "I'm going down to sleep at the bottom of the ocean" to the final, title cut "Makers" (yes the whiskey) that depicts our tragic frump commiserating with a friend who actually did the deed; "We both agreed/The Final Moment!/The sweetest remedy to ever be delivered!," he's just really pathetic about wanting to get dead. He even goes so far as to bring one of his kids into the nightmare, or so it seems - "Streetlights" ends with "...nothing stopping me from jumping in and sinking fast/I'll sing you to sleep first." That's just fucked up.

Frankly I was done with emo, and now this post-emo blubbering drivel just makes me want to...yeah. You take yourself too seriously, Rocky. Save it for the next soundtrack to "The O.C." He gives an idiotic songwriting credit to Piss Pissedoffherson on "She Was Only in it for the Rain," a pretty melody, actually, with some interesting finger picking and soulful alt-Western permeation. This song also boasts the most redeemable poetry of lyric found on the whole album with the line: "Her thirteenth finger my whiskey drink." Everywhere else, we get clunker after clunker lyrically: "Wait Out the Days" spews "your heart is a bag of rocks/your soul is a pile of ashes on the sidewalk." While "Where We Left Off" awkwardly offers "let's string up everything that we've been afraid of we've been living under..." "Uppers Aren't Necessary" waxes strongly of Simon and Garfunkel melodically and vocally, and is the one (title aside) that could prove to stand the test of time. You could play that two decades ago or two decades from now, provided there are people left around to play it for. "Tennessee Train Tracks" (yeah we didn't need the salsa-cliche maraca shake at the end there) and "Goldfield" come in with that tip of the hat to alt-country as well, with a particular emphasis on Votolato's spot-on vocal intonation and range of style - between these two tracks he goes from a pleasing raked-over-sandpaper rasp to a soft, caressing, near whisper.

Largely acoustic guitar and single-strain vocals (exceptions including vocal harmony by Christian Wargo on "White Daisy Passing," party sounds on "Portland is Leaving," the wail of a harmonica on several songs and a bare thread of electric guitar contributed by Cody Votolato on "Where We Left Off"), Makers inclines the listener to focus on Rocky Votolato's admittedly impressive singing, strumming, and picking skills. Unfortunately we are also forced to pay attention to his crappy whiny recurrent lyrical theme of suicide and dying. Shut up and do it, then. I'm putting on some Cheap Trick.