Wolverton Brothers

The Wols are one of Cincinnati's most enduring groups -- about two decades and still going strong -- and they're certainly one of the more unique and innovative bands ever to call the Queen City home. The group's latest release, A Better Place (only their fourth long-player), is its most experimental and eccentric yet (which is saying a lot), as the group employs a wider variety of tools, getting into warped samples and other electronic gurgling on tracks like "So Beautiful" and "Brood X Nymphs." On the alluring "Sky Trails," the Bros. (with Culture Queer/Fairmount Girls' Dana Hamblen on guest vocals) play over a withering vinyl recording of children singing a "love chant from North Africa" to dizzying effect. The band's trademark art-damaged Post Punk is still in play throughout the majority of Place, maniacally scurrying between droning buzz ("No Panic Trip") and noisy soundbursts ("Give Me Some Lightning"). The lysergic, slanted guitar interplay between Billy Wol and Tim Schwallie sounds almost telepathic at this point, while Schwallie's impulsive, stream-of-conscious vocals and lyrics surf the music like a drunken sailor confidently keeping his footing on deck during a tsunami. Eclecticism radiates on tracks like "Wintry Mix (Opus No. 3)," an ambient whir that builds and mushrooms into a punkish fervor, and "Hay Days," which alternates between a narcotic sway and full-on Glam Rock boogie. There's no "blueprint" for the Wols' music -- structures blissfully defy expectation, and sonically the band knows few boundaries. The Wolverton Brothers are the kind of band that should make you proud to be from Cincinnati. (Mike Breen) Grade: A

- City Beat June 24, 2004

an endorsement from Greg Dulli: "..one of the finest bands in the country.  They are the VU and Big Star of their generation.  They are a truly outstanding band.  They were really inspirational to me."
- Creem no. 2 vol. 12

Liar Man:  At 26 minutes, this seven-song collection is technicaly a mini-album.  Yet those of us who once complained about short CDs and now recoil at bloated 78-minute symphonies will find both irony and solace here as not a nano-second is wasted.  The Wolvertons' prior releases ('87's self-titler, '92's Sucking Hind Tit, and several singles) hinted at a certain breed of rootsy aplomb germinating.  Now, produced by Mekon Jon Langford, the band caroms woozily and lustily off every "rock" in sight, minus any revivalist mannerisms.  Instead, you hear a double-naught spy theme filtered through Nick Cave’s bowels ("Max Gomez Love"), surf-funk for bong-huffin’ fans of Dick Dale and the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion ("Vampyre," "Tornado Bomber"), even some twangy, echoey shit ("Xanadu," "Tornado Bomber") that point the riffs to the heart of the sun without necessarily bringing to mind a tired term like "psychedelic."  ...  – Fred Mills
- OPTION #57