Debut LP from Brian McClelland (Middle Class Fashion, Tight Pants Syndrome, The Maxtone 4), Sarah Gremillion, Kimberly Faulhaber.
"Some people just have it, and some have a lot of it. BRIAN MCCLELLAND is definitely one of those with a lot of it. The Tight Pants Syndrome/Middle Class Fashion bassist and vocalist has yet another poptastic project, WHOA THUNDER, that showcases an abundance of strengths. Their debut album, YOU'RE UNDER ATTACK, hides an extra hook behind every catchy chorus on songs like "Hotwire!,"and "No Girls Laugh at Me Now (HA HA I Laugh at Them," and sweet, delicate, but rock solid harmonies from KIMBERLY FAULHABER and SARAH GREMILLION tucked into beds of synth that will charm fans of the Rentals' Seven More Minutes. McClelland's vocals are reminiscent of New Pornographers' A.C. Newman with effortless accuracy, confidence and tons of character. You're Under Attack feels like a series of right answers, each sound leading to the next in a way that only pulls the listener deeper into their world. It's seriously great stuff.
The crazy part is that apparently this totally awesome band doesn't play out, like ever, so if you want to get your hands on this pop-NASA artifact, the best way to do it is pick it up at the Movers & Shakers party on Saturday April 6, where Whoa Thunder will be releasing this 16-song masterpiece along with Tight Pants Syndrome's new EP"
"If the four songs on the Tight Pants Syndrome EP only whet your appetite for sharp pop tunes without bedding it back down, give a few spins to Whoa Thunder's You're Under Attack, a sixteen-song LP spearheaded by McClelland. The record has an interesting enough history -- back in 2009, McClelland recruited two friends, Sarah Gremillion and Kimberly Faulhauber, to play bass and keyboards in a new project. Neither had any musical background, but with some tutelage, the pair became more than capable at these modern bubblegum numbers.
The one-two kick of "Real Cool Hand" and "Bottlehands" gives a good idea of what Whoa Thunder is after. Buzzy monophonic synths, handclap-ready rhythms and cooing female harmony vocals combine to create futuristic playground chants. Gremillion and Faulhauber's K Records-worthy parts on a song such as "Allison" show a twee verve alongside McClelland's more polished sensibility, and this experimental-but-breezy tone fits in nicely alongside his other projects. One wouldn't think that McClelland would need another outlet for his pop confections, but You're Under Attack reveals its easy, immediate charms on first listen."
released April 6, 2013
Whoa Thunder is:
Kimberly Faulhaber: vocals, keyboards
Sarah Gremillion: vocals, bass
Brian McClelland: vocals, guitars, bass, keyboards, percussion, etc.
Scott Hermes: live drums
Patrick Hawley: percussion
Matt Meyer: additional bass, vocals
Produced and Recorded by Brian McClelland @ The All Metal Mother, Maplewood, MO
Mixed by Brian McClelland with Matt Meyer
EVERYBODY KEEPS MOVING | Everybody | Everybody keeps moving | I can never tell you what they're going to do | How their bodies | How their bodies keep moving | None of them are breathing so I don't have a clue | Oh, the formaldehyde | Filling their insides | With the stitching tight | Every second there's a micsroscopic motion | Is it only me or did you notice it too | How the bodies, with just a drop or two of potion, every slab is shaking like a bird in a flue | Oh, I've been tryin' to hide | Taking smokes outside | You said you'd come if you could, but I don't think you understood | Everybody keeps moving | 7:30, when the coolie kids are dancing | Armies of the dead are wreaking havoc again | Kids are lovin', in the boonies they're romancing | While their friends and parents started craving brains | Oh, I've been zombified | With my guts outside | I'd say, don't run, but you should | Your brains would do my belly good | Brains taste better when you're dead | Even better in a cornfed fathead | Everywhere you go, yeah we're gonna go slow | We may be going slow, but we're goin', yeah we're goin' |
Track Name: Real Cool Hand
REAL COOL HAND | I'm a bigger boy this year, you might've seen me | Humpin' up and down the green at University | It's not with your weekend state I've got a problem | But you're messin' with my girl | Well, man, you're gonna get some | I'm gonna give you some | There's only one thing to do with a girl like this | You'll never settle it, Ma & Pa Kettle it | Walk naked into the sea together as the sun sets | You'll never settle it, you're no confederate | Make love once and | Make love once and die | And if you button your mouth | I will not smack it up | And if my hammer come down | I'm gonna crack it up | And if your party's unsound | I'm gonna break it up | Well, sometimes nothing at all can be a real cool hand | I'll never cut and run cuz baby says so | I never jump the gun without a get go | I keep it cool, but man, there is a limit | Keep talking 'bout my girl, you're gonna get hit | Yeah, with my punching mitt |
Track Name: Bottlehands
BOTTLEHANDS | I know her heart just isn't in it anymore | She's demon dancing when the boys are on the floor | I heard her telling you | There's something to be said | Something to be said for | Getting so messed up with your bottlehands | Bottlehands raise up | Bottleman blaze down | We can all stand up like a bottle can | We can stand all night, but can we stand tonight | Barely in business as the Captain's paramour | Some kind of shadow of the girl we knew before | Somebody saying a guitar is like a gun | Well, what you think a gun's for? | Step outside the Booby Trap | You'll see Detroit has been burning on all night | A yowling pussycat | Down on a fence and a-screamin' to get right | Yowlin' to the night | She moved from Captain to a moldy Commodore | This lady leaping like a worm into a core | The apple rotten, yeah, but she don't wanna think | Distracted as her drink pours |
Track Name: Are You Ready Yet
ARE YOU READY YET? | Back seat in a parking lot | What do they know? | I'm the kinda girl who likes to fool around and then | I'm good to go | It's so right, man | It's so American | Blow out your minivan | Spit up your Ativan | Are you ready yet? | Are you ready, let's go | Last girl in the elevator | With no buttons lit | It's some kinda scene for squares and agitators, man | Yeah, let's just split | Last row at the picture show | We're truth or darin' | Look at that concession boy, oh man, he's got a glow | It's not ticket tearin' |
Track Name: Chump Change (I Can't Get A-Rid Of)
CHUMP CHANGE | Conversations are stupid | Conversations are what will bring us down | Boil it down to a shorthand | I'll give it to you at the Red Rocks back in town | She said, Don't you know you're | Chump Change | I Can't get a-rid of | Does it ever get easy? | I'm kibbitzing her moves when I'm round | Can the dividend be me | A compensation for the money she put down
Track Name: Allison
ALISON | Alison, you're a sun away | Here I am, Ali, drowning in your pocket | Pull you down through a rabbit hole | Come with me, Ali, I wait in your pocket | Pulling you through the rabbit hole | Alison left school today for the outer planets' charms | Everybody bent to get a raincoat | For the flood that's falling | Everybody meant to | But the raincoats | Were all butterflies |
Track Name: Knockdown Dragout
KNOCKDOWN DRAGOUT | It's a knockdown dragout between my lips and your feelings | A monkey sliding through your banana peelings | And if I said, hey, are you having a good time? | You know I couldn't give two fucks | Cuz all I wanna be is: obliterator of good times | Forget all your problems now, for I am your problem now | And did I ever tell you, baby? | Booze makes me hard | Did I tell you baby? | Hard to understand | Hard to know, baby | Hard to know | Yeah, it's a hard earned blackout | You better run when I'm feeding | Cuz when I c-c-come to, like a kitten on a belly I'm kneading | And if I say, hey, do you need some attention? | Attention | You know, you shouldn't press your luck | Cuz all I wanna be is the center of attention | Rememer the times in tune well | While I burn off those fumes | All I wanna do is |
Track Name: Friend 2
FRIEND 2 | Girls got somethin', yeah I wanna get it to | I want to | There's no trouble left for us to get into | I want to | One to one sail away, and I do | I want a friend, too | Baby's done kickin', yeah, she wants to get kicks, too | I want to | There's no better way, though it's dirtyin' her hands, it's true | I want to |
Track Name: Lemme Know
LEMME KNOW | She says part Cherokee | She means part Cherokee Street | To your lips, the ersatz variety's just as sweet | Ah, lemme know | When you're sick of so-so sorry's | Ah, lemme know | I'll give back all your stories | You don't need a straw for that drink, it's weaker than you | Rebuke should have a grain more salt | But with a little sugar, too | If you don't tell, I won't | Why leave 'em disappointed? | Love, tell me when we're too | Far out for fingers pointed | Unanimously reviled for our misconception | There's no cure for the Why-Go-Ins | We deal in lead, friend |
Track Name: Hotwire!
HOTWIRE | Oh baby, gimme your keys, please | Yeah, my fever's afire and my head is so hot | For your keys | Yeah I'm on my knees | Yeah I'm looking for a hotwire | Oh yeah, I'm looking for a hotwire | Alright | Oh baby, when you arrive | You arrive | Yeah, well, I'm still waiting for the booze to collide | It's alright | But you're such a tease | That girl is oversensitized | Her lips to mine, electrified | The current flowin' through her veins | It's a shock |
Track Name: No Girls Laugh at Me Now (HA HA I Laugh at Them)
NO GIRLS LAUGH AT ME NOW (HA HA I LAUGH AT THEM) | Ladies can sense a confident man | And they like it | Don't need no pedigree in demand | Or a dopp kit | I know it's hard to tell, but I was once like you | So many summers wasted shearing my heart in two | And into a bitter-hearted boy whose black and whites turned blue | I say | No girls laugh at me now | I laugh at them | Ladies can't see that me from the past | Cuz I've blocked it | Replaced that sucker role I'd been cast | With an outfit | And just like that, the heavens filled with starry dew | Me and my fitted friends discovered worlds anew | So adieu, I'm on a rocket's route of lovers gone aloof | Ladies Love Cool John Whoa, it's so hot | And since you asked it | My love brings hypersensitive shock | Anaphylactic | No longer lost inside a tried and teary queue | Check out those velvet ropes, here's me just breezin' through | And into a lot of models, pharmaceutical reps, too |
Track Name: Drag Drag Drag
DRAG DRAG DRAG | Every boy's ex is a psycho and every girl is a drag | Every girl's ex is an asshole and every boy is a drag | He can't hear what you say | Cuz there's a Bengal wearing bluejeans comin' his way | Though his back is broken, he can crawl OK | He knows boys and girls, ah, boys and girls are | They're such a drag drag drag about it | They're such a drag drag drag about | Every girl's story is so long and every boy is a drag | Every boy's back is a road map and every girl is a drag | He can't hear what you say | Cuz there's a Jager-driven airplane flyin' his way | And thought the pilot's broken, he can crush OK | Just like boys and girls, ah, boys and girls are | I can't hear what you say | Cuz there's an angel wearing bluejeans comin' my way | And her wings are broken but she crawls OK | It's like boys and girls, ah, boys and girls are |
Track Name: Stop N Think
STOP N THINK | We're breaking up through the earth | Can't tumble down while we're elevatin' | How's it that nobody's hurt | By what's cut aside, what is overgrown | What's that you're saying? | Don't stop and think it over | I know it's sad but we can't make it better | And we say it every time | How did we lose all control? | Can't rabbit hole, it's just overstatin' | How did we wash out the cold | Out of two people so overthrown |
Track Name: We're an Enormous Band
WE'RE AN ENORMOUS BAND | A bolt of lightning, a double thunder | Are we but gods, well, we're something better yet | Are we so frightening? | I know you wonder | Will molten magma burst out from our speaker set | There's no space planned for our chording hands | We barely have the room for two fingers | We're hands to knees in the touring van | Where b.o. and the cigarettes linger | Bright lights | Packed tight | No elbow room | We're an enormous band | One shouldn't mention, cuz it's a secret | Swear on your mother's gabardine sweater vest | Unless someone quits between tonight and tomorrow night | Yeah, we are overbooked at best | Sweet licks | Hot kicks | Sweat overdrive | We're an enormous band | We found Billy and Sue (he's her boyfriend, too) back in Boston, Mass | In a Denver wreck, we found our keyboard tech crawling from under the crash | And Redd Roxx, La Mocha, and our drummer, Tank Ghetto, joined in Amarillo | There's so many of us, we barely fit on the bus | And it's a really big bus |