An Object

I had never heard of No Age until reading a recommendation of their album An Object in, of all places, Playboy. I took a chance and I like it.

The group is made up of two guys, Randy Randall and Dean Spunt. The sound is hard to classify, as it's a hybrid of many different styles. There's an element of punk in their, from The Ramones to The Buzzcocks, but also a modern noise element.

Most of the songs are very hard-driving and perfect for head-banging, if you're into that sort of thing. The best guitar lick is on "C'mon, Stimmung," while "No Ground," "Defector/ed," and "Lock Box" also kick ass. The closest thing to a pop song is "I Won't Be Your Generator."

Many of the songs have cryptic titles that invite all sorts of speculation. What are we to make of "Circling with Dizzy," "A Ceiling Dreams of a Floor," or "My Hands, Birch and Steel?" The vocals are buried deep down in the mix, and have a droning quality, but at times the lyrics are intriguing (the band has kindly put in lyric sheets on cards, which I read were hand-stuffed by the band themselves). "Running From A-Go-Go" is a nifty little poem that seems to be about a lonely truck driver:

"Long drive
tears in your eyes
I want to go off that road again.

Truck stop in the middle of the world
I don't want to be alone again.

So much trash
You wouldn't know
Bullshit on the stereo
It's cold when the motel's home
One more night alone again.

The closing song, "Commerce, Comment, Commence" is a mind-blower. It is mostly noise, a building crescendo of samples, that could be the sound of the end of the world or maybe the beginning. To listen to it is to feel like being swallowed by noise. It also has a cryptic but poignant lyric:

"In waiting
Time opens up
Like the back of
a pick-up truck
There is no here
when there is no where."