Songwriter Steve Wynn, the former Dream Syndicate frontman, has been on a tear since 1996 when he offered Melting in the Dark. Since then, his records have featured howling, wailing rock & roll and deep, dark acoustic reflections � all of them bearing his trademark noir-ish lyrics that offer the shadowy side of life, love, and violence. He's employed a variety of musicians, and they've always sounded like hired guns. On ...Tick...Tick...Tick he's got himself a real band. They're all younger than he is, and they have the hunger it takes to really execute Wynn's unique songs. Start with drummer Linda Pitmon, who acts as co-producer (along with Wynn and Craig Schumacher) on these sides. Add to this the fact that the entire band (including Dave DeCastro on bass and guitarist Jason Victor) plots the arrangements.

"Turning of the Tide," is the mirror image, with the refrain stating "Don't be afraid/It's just the turning of the tide." Here again, guitars climb astride one another and begin ringing, jangling in heated dialogue to underscore the words as Pitmon's in-the-pocket drumming urges them forward.
(AMG)

"The Witch" was the Sonics' debut single, released on Etiquette, the Tacoma, WA-based label owned and operated by local hero Buck Ormsby, member of garage rock pioneers the Wailers, who are known for unearthing the obscure R&B song "Louie, Louie." Reworking the tunes of Little Richard and Bo Diddley, the Sonics worked the local teen-hop circuit as a rock & roll cover band until eventually coming up with some original material with "The Witch" and what would become the flip side to the single, "Psycho." After revamping the lineup, taking on various members of the Searchers, Gerry Roslie commandeered the vocal duties with a bracing blues shouter style that would become the group's trademark. "The Witch," roughly recorded in mono, is a brooding rocker based around a revved-up blues progression with quivering guitar and a basic sax line holding down a simple riff, drums kicking away in the background. Roslie belts his cautionary tale, sagely advising all to steer clear of "evil chicks," with vocal-chord-shredding wails: "So you know the little girl/Who's new in town/Well you better watch out now/Or she'll put you down/'Cause she's an evil chick/Say, she's the witch, oww!" The band barrels on, lacking any semblance of finesse, stomping into a tempo shift and doubling the speed as Roslie howls, "Well she walks around/Late at night/Most other people sleepin' tight/If you hear her knockin' on your door/You better say get away/Wha whoo!" Guitarist Andy Parypa lets loose a note-stumbling guitar solo in a style similar to Dave Davies of the the Kinks. "The Witch" would become a regional hit, receiving extensive airplay on the powerful Seattle AM station KJR, but the Sonics would never break nationally, most of the country not yet ready for the extremely aggressive attach of the group's rough-and-tumble music.
(AMG)

"Mirage" was the first single taken from Siouxsie & the Banshees' first album, 1978's The Scream, and while it's not as uncharacteristically poppy as the group's debut 7", "Hong Kong Garden," it's still about as close to accessible as the group got in the early days. A tightly wound song built on John McKay's slashing, distorted guitar and a pounding, prominent drumbeat (the sort of near-tribal galloping beat that Kenny Morris' replacement, Budgie, would do much better on later singles like "Spellbound" and "Fireworks"; Morris simply wasn't good enough a drummer to impart the kind of urgency this song requires), "Mirage" builds a forward momentum underneath Siouxsie Sioux's yowling vocals, which obscure bassist Steve Severin's lyrics to the point that only occasional words and phrases are decipherable.
(AMG)

By late 1983, when Altered Images' third and final album, Bite, was released, Altered Images were already dead in the water. The group had never made any particular headway in the US, where their blend of Siouxsie and the Banshees and the Monkees (not to mention Claire Grogan's bizarre, baby-talk hiccup of a singing voice) was just a little too weird for mainstream tastes, and in their native UK, their colorful look and bubblegummy 1982 singles "I Could Be Happy" and "See Those Eyes" had forever typecast them as a kiddie-pop band. Grogan was already branching off in her second career as an actress (she played the title role in Bill Forsyth's 1982 cult classic Gregory's Girl), and Bite seemed like a mere contractual obligation. For the most part, it sounds like it, too, but the brilliant single "Don't Talk To Me About Love," which led off side two, was a welcome surprise, and possibly the best song they ever did. Mike Chapman's production recalls his work with Blondie, while the disco-tinged electronic beat, chicken-scratch electric guitar part and rubbery, melodic bass part all sound closer to New Order's "Blue Monday" than Bananarama's "Cruel Summer." Grogan herself is in an entirely different mood than usual, with her newly-lowered singing voice (and slightly improved enunciation) displaying a rueful, almost petulant edge that suits the cranky lyrics. Only at the very end does she shoot into her usual helium-pitched unintelligibility, with an air of "See, I can still do this, I just choose not to anymore." Coupled with the most indelible chorus of the band's entire career, it all adds up to a minor masterpiece. Sadly, however, nobody wanted to know.
(AMG)

"Destination Unknown" sounds the least dated of all of Missing Persons' hits, most likely because it was their most melodically satisfying song. The fact that it's also Dale Bozzio's least mannered vocal performance, with none of her trademark hiccups, helps considerably as well. Her helium-pitched voice ? Dale Bozzio sang like a new wave Betty Boop ? keeps this song firmly in the Missing Persons tradition, but the low-key backing vocals by her male bandmates on the chorus are a nice touch. The lyrics are typically lightweight, your basic high school-level musings on alienation by someone who has just learned the word "existential" but is unclear about what it actually means, but Ken Scott's light-handed production and nice touches like the staccato programmed drum fills on the chorus make it pleasant on the ear regardless.
(AMG)