Greg Dona
09/21/07, 05:41 PM
When Girl Talk thrilled the music community with 2006’s Night Ripper, he assumed the throne as king of mash-ups. For that reason, all comparisons based in the relatively new genre necessarily run through Gregg Gillis. Austin’s Chris Rose, the creative genius behind similarly minded outfit Car Stereo (Wars), embraces this connection; in fact, he blatantly states that he wishes his work to sound like a “smoother and less abrasive” Girl Talk effort. On The Bandit, Rose’s debut full-length, the Car Stereo (Wars) gentleman tries his hand at not only matching but also surpassing the work of his widely celebrated peer.
Whether out of devotion to the actor or to attract attention through a gimmick appeal, Rose names every track after a Burt Reynolds character. He bookends his album accordingly by both opening and closing it with lines from Reynolds’s Smokey and the Bandit. This offers a smooth and interesting introduction, which quickly leads into Lil Mama spitting her “Lip Gloss” over a host of instrumental tracks. Initially, things sound just like a less natural Gillis mosaic; Car Stereo (Wars) offers up slightly more friction when transitioning from one segment to the next, and this affliction frustrates slightly. Sometimes the lack of fluidity disallows for a substantial momentum build. Most notably, the move from Bubba Sparxxx’s “”Miss New Booty” to the Kill Bill theme song effectively kills listeners’ mounting anticipation. Through the first couple of tracks, very little separates Car Stereo (Wars) from its predecessor.
However, one soon notices the difference between the two; whereas Gillis may possess a better ear for infectious mainstream tunes, Rose brings to the table a wider variety of lesser-known jams. When the Texan samples obscure artists such as Australia’s Gameboy/Gamegirl, it usually works spectacularly and thrills fans. Unfortunately, he sometimes reaches too far for unconventional inclusions. In the worst case, Rose nearly ruins the otherwise outstanding “Charlie B. Barkin’” by splicing portions of the obnoxious Chronicles of Narnia rap into the track. Whereas tossing the Ferris Bueller’s Day Off theme song into a later tune proves enjoyable due to the original track’s intent as a legitimate musical composition, using a piece intended to humor rather than aurally please seems an unwise choice. Still, Rose captivates listeners by picking relative unknowns such as Spank Rock, Justice, and Yo Majesty. He thus proves his expansive musical knowledge an asset rather than a hindrance despite a slew of overambitious samples.
At times, Car Stereo (Wars) even manages to mix songs in the same effortless manner as Girl Talk. On “Sonny Hooper’s in this House,” Rose glossily transitions through Daft Punk, Of Montreal, Fergie, the Go! Team, and Twista before finally slipping up minimally by awkwardly tossing in the male-voiced portion of Kid Sister’s “Pro Nails.” Since Rose shows remarkable competence with regard to polished changeovers, only inconsistency hints at a lesser familiarity with his methods and equipment when compared to Gillis.
Luckily, Rose forges past the strictly musical aspects of mash-ups, using his work to explore dichotomies in lyrical work as well. He makes his most interesting pair on “Hey Hey Stick Stickley” by placing the filthy writing of Pase Rock’s “Lindsay Lohan’s Revenge” on top of the innocent theme to popular children’s show Doug. In juxtaposing tracks as such, Rose forces the listener to reexamine the intention and inspiration behind all involved works. He thus uses mash-ups as a vehicle through which one not only recreates music, but literary creations as well.
Taken alone, The Bandit proves an exciting adventure in a developing and thriving genre. Car Stereo (Wars) churns out eleven thrilling songs that run together masterfully to create a tight party-starting collection. However, few listeners take the Austin artist’s efforts as simply one body of work, but rather a counterpoint to Girl Talk’s Night Ripper. When such comparisons arise, the latter emerges with a slight edge. But fans must understand that Gregg Gillis released two full-length albums and two EPs before striking gold with his seemingly universally adored hit; after a few more goes, expect Chris Rose to reach, if not surpass, the reputation of indie darling Gillis.
Whether out of devotion to the actor or to attract attention through a gimmick appeal, Rose names every track after a Burt Reynolds character. He bookends his album accordingly by both opening and closing it with lines from Reynolds’s Smokey and the Bandit. This offers a smooth and interesting introduction, which quickly leads into Lil Mama spitting her “Lip Gloss” over a host of instrumental tracks. Initially, things sound just like a less natural Gillis mosaic; Car Stereo (Wars) offers up slightly more friction when transitioning from one segment to the next, and this affliction frustrates slightly. Sometimes the lack of fluidity disallows for a substantial momentum build. Most notably, the move from Bubba Sparxxx’s “”Miss New Booty” to the Kill Bill theme song effectively kills listeners’ mounting anticipation. Through the first couple of tracks, very little separates Car Stereo (Wars) from its predecessor.
However, one soon notices the difference between the two; whereas Gillis may possess a better ear for infectious mainstream tunes, Rose brings to the table a wider variety of lesser-known jams. When the Texan samples obscure artists such as Australia’s Gameboy/Gamegirl, it usually works spectacularly and thrills fans. Unfortunately, he sometimes reaches too far for unconventional inclusions. In the worst case, Rose nearly ruins the otherwise outstanding “Charlie B. Barkin’” by splicing portions of the obnoxious Chronicles of Narnia rap into the track. Whereas tossing the Ferris Bueller’s Day Off theme song into a later tune proves enjoyable due to the original track’s intent as a legitimate musical composition, using a piece intended to humor rather than aurally please seems an unwise choice. Still, Rose captivates listeners by picking relative unknowns such as Spank Rock, Justice, and Yo Majesty. He thus proves his expansive musical knowledge an asset rather than a hindrance despite a slew of overambitious samples.
At times, Car Stereo (Wars) even manages to mix songs in the same effortless manner as Girl Talk. On “Sonny Hooper’s in this House,” Rose glossily transitions through Daft Punk, Of Montreal, Fergie, the Go! Team, and Twista before finally slipping up minimally by awkwardly tossing in the male-voiced portion of Kid Sister’s “Pro Nails.” Since Rose shows remarkable competence with regard to polished changeovers, only inconsistency hints at a lesser familiarity with his methods and equipment when compared to Gillis.
Luckily, Rose forges past the strictly musical aspects of mash-ups, using his work to explore dichotomies in lyrical work as well. He makes his most interesting pair on “Hey Hey Stick Stickley” by placing the filthy writing of Pase Rock’s “Lindsay Lohan’s Revenge” on top of the innocent theme to popular children’s show Doug. In juxtaposing tracks as such, Rose forces the listener to reexamine the intention and inspiration behind all involved works. He thus uses mash-ups as a vehicle through which one not only recreates music, but literary creations as well.
Taken alone, The Bandit proves an exciting adventure in a developing and thriving genre. Car Stereo (Wars) churns out eleven thrilling songs that run together masterfully to create a tight party-starting collection. However, few listeners take the Austin artist’s efforts as simply one body of work, but rather a counterpoint to Girl Talk’s Night Ripper. When such comparisons arise, the latter emerges with a slight edge. But fans must understand that Gregg Gillis released two full-length albums and two EPs before striking gold with his seemingly universally adored hit; after a few more goes, expect Chris Rose to reach, if not surpass, the reputation of indie darling Gillis.