Dryvetyme Onlyne

Tigers Jaw
Tigers Jaw
Prison Jazz; 2008

I’m going to cop to this confession: there are times when I use the descriptive phraseology surrounding the word “indie” a bit too indiscriminately than is necessary or appropriate. However, I will defend myself in that, with each use, I faithfully employ the same base definition(s) when discussing such music, because I’m often attempting to prove a larger point (construct a meta-narrative, if you will) with my reviews. Too many of the bands whose art I’ve been reviewing for the past two years are (sadly) rather far removed from mainstream radio play, wide-ranging touring regimens, and having their music for sale in decent record stores. By and large, these are groups making really good pop, rock, and punk albums that should have a decent following, and they would, if they had even the merest bit of exposure. Even with the advent of the Internet and the information ubiquity it provides, true indie bands are even farther under the radar than before.

Let’s look at the case of Tigers Jaw from Scranton, PA, and their self-titled sophomore release. Here is a hungry, young five-piece making tasty pop music that’s infused with fuzzy, jangling guitars and some punk-ish attitude, all wrapped up in a ten-song, thirty-minute package like a yummy chocolate-covered caramel. I could pass this album around to my rock-loving friends, and, within two listens, they would be singing along with each track and shaking their hips to the simple, yet tight rhythms. The band’s music, led by “I Saw Water,” “Between Your Band and the Other Band,” and “I Was Never Your Boyfriend” instantly calls to mind groups like The Anniversary, The Apples In Stereo, and Jawbreaker, as it combines equal parts indie sheen, pop smarts, and punk grit to make a cohesive whole.

Tigers Jaw stands up as an example of how broken the contemporary music industry is and the number of bands who are willing to toil in relative obscurity for their art, working inside the “indie” system as it is. Maybe they’re content and full of resolve regarding the work they must do to stay truly DIY, but I’d rather have this “indie” outfit garner a few more fist-pumps, back-slaps, and album sales than those they constantly receive from their immediate, die-hard fans back in Scranton.