Maybe it's the current, somewhat tumultuous, situation I am trudging through in my personal life that has me so displeased with my current review subject's most recent product. Then again, I highly doubt it. Why blame myself for someone elses shortcomings? I'm hard enough on myself for my own so, there's no need to weigh down that yoke with another's. In fact, though it remains highly speculative at this point until a further, more thorough, investigation has been completed, maybe it's the other way around! Maybe, just maybe, it's Kiyoshi Graves' latest effort, "Chase" (jd8 Records, 2006), that's actually caused this rough patch I have found myself mired in as of late. I'll report back when that whole mess is figured out and let you know if my sentiments are the same as they are now. Until then, however, we have work to do; on with the task at hand.
Kiyoshi Graves is a Japanese-American singer/songwriter born and raised in the Silverlake area of Los Angeles, Ca. According to the bio on his website, he dropped his pursual of a career as an architectural engineer when the death of his grandfather caused him to reevaluate his purpose in life. He then returned to school and attended Sonoma State University where he received a Bachelor of Arts degree in music with an emphasis on chorus and jazz. Now, Dear Reader, it's that tid-bit of information that makes this album that much more of a disapointment. With those credentials, I expected much more. It's posiible that my expectations are too high to begin with, and when you add a background of music education, the bar rises even higher.
Each song on the album is a jangly, alt-rock cliche'. For example, the title track, which opens the album, does nothing to deviate from formulaic pop-rock. It starts off with a somewhat powerful movement only to have it's jumpy tempo and rhythm neutralized by sleepy vocals. And why, Dear Reader, would a musician, especially one with the credentials that Mr. Graves has, more or less rip off the theme song from King of the Hill, try to dress it up with some reggae underpinings and label it as the 2nd ditty on the disc, "Everything"? I couldn't tell you either but the sad fact remains that he has done that here. Sadly, nothing changes throughout the whole of this cookie-cutter record.
Before I wound up in the hospital for two weeks with a shattered elbow, dislocated shoulder, and an insatiable pain killer addiction, I read a few pre-existing reviews of "Chase" and noticed a lot of praise for the lyrics and "vision" of Mr. Graves. Well, I consider myself a "music" reviewer. I see music as a foundation on which to place lyrics, and if that foundation is weak, such as the case here, the lyrics have nothing to stand on. I'm sorry, but if I want to hear words, I'll go to a poetry reading. Unfortunately, my phobias of brie and berets is incurable and I'm unable to attend any such function where either is present. So, I'm stuck (or, should I say, you're stuck?) reviewing "music" first and foremost, and if that holds up and I've had my hot cereal that day, then the lyrics. On this day, however, I see that the maid has yet to restock the pantry with my old favorite, Cream of Wheat.
