JtotheStotheH

wwhat the fuck m. gira!??!?!?!?!?!!??!

FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!

fuck.

fuck!!!

is this desire is the most important if you don't already have that.

the album got its first review...

holy fuck.!!

Concept albums are a dubious challenge at best for most bands. The inherent pretentiousness and implied invitation to excess have provided an enduring stumbling block for even the most accomplished artists. In fact, it seems that too often it's the bands that have already achieved much and are searching for new inspirational avenues who are the ones who embrace the seductive urge to tell one cohesive story in album format, to create one kingdom inside the borders of a CD sleeve.

Perhaps, then, this predicament is best given over to the fresh and untested; the lack of guile and baggage providing a way around the impediments of such a feat. Juarez can provide us with an example to this theory, for not only do Melbourne's Johnny Saw Horses approach this task with alacrity and gusto, they manage to keep themselves clear of the ego tripping that seems to be such a common pitfall with other, more seasoned artists. Instead, despite or because of their youth and straightforward dedication to the task, Johnny Saw Horses resolve to become faithful musical curators of the true story of ''Las Muertas,'' the unsolved murders and heinous crimes against women occurring around the city of Ciudad Juarez, Mexico.

The album begins simply, with the sound of crickets and unassuming female voices, singing as if to themselves about the dangers in the hills. ''Hazel Weaver'''s innocent character belies the helpless bitterness of its words, which conclude with the wistful dictum, ''be a man, don't be a girl…life's much longer when you're doing the killing.''

If ''Hazel Weaver'' is something of a prelude, the stunner ''Oily Gull'' is more of a premonition, as well as establishing Johnny Sawhorses as gifted auteurs of a peculiarly cinematic atmosphere. Pinney's voice doubles as flickering portent as the song builds into a celebration of bump-in-the-night rhythms, before finally settling into a pervasive gloom that is somehow soothing and unsettling at the same time, a feat doubtlessly achieved with the help of a brilliant choir noir. By the conclusion of this, the second track on the album, Johnny Saw Horses officially have our attention.

Descending further into the pages of this mysterious tale, we have the runaway ''Hermanas,'' with Pinney riding on a crest of muddy guitars sharpened to a point by the clack of castanets. Though the song holds fast to a dark minor key, reminiscent of Throwing Muses, Breeders and PJ Harvey in the grungy dawn of the nineties, it soon expands into something bigger, bolder and ultimately more compelling than any of these which came before.

It's necessary to highlight, too, the particular qualities of Jessica Pinney's voice, which takes its cue from these earlier female icons such as Patti Smith, Polly Harvey and Kristin Hersh, their full-throated sexuality never pandering to typical male ''chanteuse'' fantasies and ever-blessed with the ability and desire to transcend gender. Sometimes, as with siren calls ''Monterrey'' and ''The Old City,'' she nearly manages to transcend mortality altogether, appearing more wraith than girl. Yet with the zither-spiked paen ''Visit to a Shaman,'' her voice returns to earth with a grainy closeness that is unmistakably human as it guides through the thick blue aural smoke of the Double Corey Choir, a stunningly effective collection of the band's friends, mothers and sisters, who manage to recreate a musical backdrop of uncertain vintage.

At nearly ten minutes, the anguished ''Map'' forms the black-hole center of the album, evoking the displaced suffering of the vanished women of Las Muertas: ''I found remains by the highway…further in the desert, deeper, I found more torn clothes, hair caught on thorns…couldn't find any more of you.'' Menacing guitar lines and slow-crashing drums circle the wagons around a litany of chilling unfinished details invoked by Pinney, before beginning a deliberate combustion of distortion which builds and releases for the final three minutes. Any former (or present) aficianado of Sonic Youth's exuberant indulgences knows to relax into this kind of terrifying noisescape and find the sublime thread running through it all, but others might find this extended harshness offputting.

The smoke clears with the transparent guitar lines of ''New Tornado,'' Pinney matching her voice with fellow Saw Horse James Rushford, as a backdrop of soft martenot sounds slip past like a line of traveling pink clouds on a dusty horizon. ''Gotta get gone,'' they softly intone, as the entire song seems to pass out of sight with a gentleness that provides a stark contrast to the preceding cacophony.

''Fishing'' arrives to take its place with heralding drums, Rushford again accompanying Pinney on vocals. This track gets its power from its extremely rhythmic character and the way the soaring female vocals play against the deep grumble of the ''male'' faction of the Double Corey Choir.

At the end of the album, Pinney stands alone in the sunstroked hallucination of the title track, the choir again wrapping her up in dusty blue veils of intrigue while she begins to unpeel the mystery of the missing women for us, layer by sordid layer. The lyrics describe, in the dual voices of victim and perpetrator, the moment of no turning back in squalid detail. ''Are you my desert rose? Are you my desert flower?'' is the ominous query that is relentlessly posed as the final act of the drama plays out.

Perfectly paced, and told with equal parts fascination and compassion that is contagious to the listener, Juarez is one compelling story that begs to be taken down from the shelf again and again.

Jennifer Ingrassia Vogtner September 15, 2008

soooo wish i was here for this one b-dog!

i'm sure it'll be stunning!!!

i'll add this one to this thread because i still love it so much!

have a look on craigslist for sublets! they're cheaper than the most affordable 'decent' hotel and make living cheaper seeing as you can make breakfast and whatever else for yourself! i stayed in one with a friend for 10 days and it was the best!!!!

brigit ryan is the best.

aaaah i need to see this season DESPERATELY!

they were in the guardian 'extra' supplement this weekend. so many pretty pictures. sigh i love them so much.

future of comedy is RIGHT!

i wish i could have been at the MSO thing. i spoke to talia afterwards! I'M MISSING MY TUESDAY SPRAY NIGHTS!

i'll be back for more in april i guess and then... fuck!

dear one! i'm so sorry i didn't make it to horsey on saturday! was such a bummer but too hard to go into the city on such a cold night after so much tequila. will try to drop in on tuesday night to say hi and by properly but won't be able to see the show - another bummer. you gonna be there yeah?