Some music should be reserved only for exclusive occasions. There’s the gloomy atmosphere of a “winter-only” album, the reckless energy of a “party-mix,” the sexiness of “make-out music,” and even the indulgent “driving music,” meant only for a driver at night with no passengers. When asked for what “occasion” The Secret Machines music would be most suitable, singer Brandon Curtis suggests, “Maybe there would be some nice things about driving while listening to our record. I would like to think that maybe I would be driving to have a make-out session...”
And that’s exactly what’s so refreshing and beautiful about the music of The Secret Machines. It’s dually the lushness of make-out music and the remoteness of driving-alone-at-night music. It’s an invincible match, a marriage too strong to falter or doubt. Call them what you will, space rock, garage rock, psychedelic rock, shoe gaze -- Curtis is not one for labels. “I feel there is no reason to self associate with any one group. I mean, these words might not even mean anything. I’ll take them all...”
From Oklahoma to Dallas to Chicago to sharing a one room apartment in Brooklyn, NY, (rumored to be without heat or hot water for weeks), it’s been quite a trip for Secret Machines. More speed bumps along the way included unfavorable initial reviews of their debut CD, 2004’s Now Here Is Nowhere, the departure of guitarist and brother of Brandon, Benjamin Curtis, and the arrival of new guitarist Phil Karnats (formerly of Polyphonic Spree). Despite their slow start, thanks to an incredibly devoted online following, their music was propelled into the sights of U2’s The Edge, who was quoted in an interview for Uncut Magazine (August 2007 issue) as saying that The Secret Machine’s Now Here is Nowhere was "the last record I fell in love with." The Secret Machines went on to share a tour bill with such prominent bands as the Foo Fighters, Spiritualized, Oasis, Interpol, M83, and Kings of Leon. The clincher came when they opened for U2’s Vertigo Tour in Mexico, and later David Bowie, who asked them to close the first-annual Highline Festival in 2007. Despite the enormous weight of these accomplishments, Brandon Curtis doesn’t let it go to his head too much. “Nice feathers in one’s cap do not necessarily guarantee a date on Friday night, if you know what I mean...” he jokes.
The band’s much-anticipated, recently-released album, Secret Machines, is a rebirth of sorts, as it’s the first album from the new line-up featuring Karnats. Losing their original guitarist meant losing one third of the band and its original vision, but Curtis is assuring. “Phil and Benjamin are different people, so their contribution to the group has been different. The musical direction of Secret Machines has always been one of the sum of its different parts and luckily, Phil's parts have lined up pretty nicely with Josh (Garza - drummer) and myself.”
This fresh outlook and new band identity are well-timed, considering that only now after two full-length albums have they finally released a self-titled album; Curtis muses that this may be entirely intentional and a reflection of the current (and hopefully final line-up of) Secret Machines. “I never have been the first one to figure things out, never was the one to raise my hand in class, not very quick on the draw you might say. Maybe it took awhile to figure out what Secret Machines really are…”
And “figure out” they have. Through this collection of psychedelic gems, The Secret Machines undeniably emulate their influences, yet maintain their adored space-rock sound. “Atomic Heels” is a beginner’s dose of the far out psychedelia to come later in the album, featuring Beatles-esque choruses and a futuristic guitar licks. Pink Floyd’s Dark Side Of the Moon is honored on “The Walls Are Starting To Crack,” in which guitars and drums become whirring spaceships, flinging us out into the otherworldly landscape of Roger Water’s “Time,” where we hover, bobbing through the sonic waves and Curtis’ sprawling vocal orbit. The hauntingly poignant “I Never Thought to Ask” is melancholic, reverberating guitar shimmer, while metallic post-punk is alive on “Underneath the Concrete.” Secret Machines closes with cyclonic anthem “The Fire Is Waiting,” clocking in at 11.09 minutes—not your average rock song. Through this brilliant new album they manage to be “out there,” yet still within reach, by infusing their psychedelic potion, and swooping in to return us to land just when it’s about to get too spacey.
Considering that they have already toured (and been quoted favorites of) some of the most respected and seasoned bands in the world, Curtis’ simple wish for the band shouldn’t be too hard to grant. “I hope we have a future in music. I guess that’s all.”
--Lauren Pezzullo [October 25, 2008]
