Dryvetyme Onlyne

The Tontons
The Tontons
Self-Released; 2009

Guest Contributor: Michael Dallas Miller

As a dude who listens to a lot of pop music, I listen to a lot of dudes who make pop music. The burden is lighter, I think, for male vocalists, just like it is for male comic book heroes. A male singer can moan (Thom Yorke), whisper (Jeff Tweedy), sing off-key (Bob Dylan in the sixties), and/or talk rhythmically off-key (Bob Dylan in 2009), and it’s still an acceptable way to perform good music. Females rock stars have a harder time fitting the “rock and role” of rock and roll, through no fault of their own. That’s just how it is. And I’ve searched decently hard for a female voice that wants to rock but doesn’t try too hard, is smooth without being too soulful, and can be pleasant and clean without sounding like just another country star. Shara Worden of My Brightest Diamond comes close, but she’s sometimes too New York theatrical for me. Zooey Deschanel, for a short while, has such a sweet voice for such a sweet collection of songs, but she didn’t have quite enough grit. Then, thankfully, I was handed the new album by the Houston four-piece The Tontons. Suffice to say that the sky opened, the sun shone, and the clearness of female-rock day come bursting fourth through the vocals of Asli Omar.

Omar’s style fits the small variations of a workable, rockable, guitar sound that The Tontons have created over the past few years cruising the Houston, TX scene. The opening track, “1816”, a smooth dirt-ball of pop, is a perfect introduction to once-bouncing, then-grinding guitar work and a voice that slithers around like a purple Barracuda. And it doesn’t let go till the final breath of music escapes from this debut album.

Although at the core, the feel of this album does not change. It is clear that no wacky instruments are added to give the album any sort of manufactured “uniqueness” or “modern rock variety,” and each song has a particular guiding influence. For the sultry “Little Wooden Horses,” the source is clearly urban blues. “Cock-eyed Cowboys,” an instrument jam, takes its root from a western dance-hall country and southern Cali rock, and is as memorable a ditty as “Walk Don’t Run” (aka the opening tune of Pulp Fiction).

And then, there is “Dancing” – a sort of ’90s pop jam taken from the disco garden of ’77 and played through Texas guitar—a song that has barely left my mind. This, more than any other track, is the reason I like this band, as it moves effortlessly between genres, measure by measure, and creates a song full of grit and sweat, inspired by the action that is this song’s namesake. Omar’s voice never falters in the transition from disco love to tough love when she sings with pain and longing, “I’ll fix you if you let me. Won’t you let me help you?”

This is the kind of straight-forward pop music that makes you angry, sad, tense, tired, relaxed, and energetic, and do so all at once. The music of The Tontons is made to be played loud, made to be listened to carefully, and made to be placed at the corner of the wooden dance floor among the brown-bottled beers and plain white undershirts. My Seattle-self would almost hate to admit it, but The Tontons almost make me wish I were from Texas.

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Michael Dallas Miller lives and works in Seattle, Washington. He spends most of his time writing for various online and print magazines, working at the Pike Place Market in an oil and vinegar shop, going to the many shows available in town, playing basketball, training for his first marathon, and trying to find the best Pad Thai in Seattle (the best omelet search ended two years ago at Katina’s Kitchen in Magnolia). His work has appeared in Sound NW Magazine (both print and online editions), Geez Magazine, and Burnside Writer’s Collective, as well as one poem in The Lingua Journal.