I hate my nose.

For the past two weeks, I’ve been committed under lock and key to Sound and Shape’s debut album Where Machines End Their Lives. I’ve dedicated many evening hours, five Word documents, phone calls, conversations, electronic correspondence and a few restless nights to this album. I want to give it what it deserves – a lengthy diatribe of epic proportions – but all I can think about right now are my burning sinuses. Oh, I just sneezed again. I love that the trees are budding after winter’s naked desolation, but I hate paying the price for nature’s renewal.

Oddly enough, nature’s terms of renewal may just be the point I’ve been waiting for. As cliché as “like sands through the hour glass” and “after winter must come spring,” the unrelenting tale of life and death are the overbearing themes of most creativity, as well as love, fear and irony. As much as every human being knows it will one day die, the truth of it is simply hard to bear. So, what do we do with this knowledge? We record history and attempt to learn from mistakes. We search for meaning (spirituality and philosophy), for ways to prolong our days (medicine and vitamins) and for a clandestine source with the answers to questions like, “Why am I stricken with seasonal allergies?” I digress.

Nashville trio Sound and Shape have effectively crafted an album recalling the historic battle of man vs. himself. From the moment I first read the track list, from “The Son Of Sunshine and All The Little Freedoms” to “Telegram (Of The Fall Of Father Sunshine),” it occurred to me that I was in for something more than a few defining tunes – this thing has setting, character, plot, narrative and theme.

“It’s definitely a concept album … not a rock opera.”

I was exhilarated to hear Ryan Caudle say those words. I thought I was about to receive a one-way ticket to the funny farm. I simply knew this album had purpose beyond a round, reflective souvenir. I was also worried about having the responsibility thrust upon me to make comparisons to The Who’s Tommy and Green Day’s American Idiot. I’m simply not prepared, mentally or scholastically, to equate them. In fact, I find it downright terrifying. A concept album implies the artist’s intent rather than the specific content, much like Pet Sounds, The Downward Spiral, and (as much as Radiohead wants to deny it) OK Computer.  I prefer the term song cycle, which carries a lighter load. This implies that the tracks be played in sequence, much like Dark Side of the Moon, Abbey Road, Rhythm Nation 1814 and yes, even Kid A. (But much like genre terms, such as “alternative” and “progressive”, these terms can be interchangeable and mind-boggling. As I have 79 genres listed in my iTunes, I could basically use seven: rock, pop, country, rap, hip-hop, blues and jazz.)

SOUND AND SHAPE

While I am not the fourth member of Sound and Shape, I cannot be 100% positive about the album’s intent. All I can offer are a few notable namedrops and confirmations that the story includes a son, father, mother and love interest to tell you about Where Machines End Their Lives.

Our observations begin with “The Son Of Sunshine and All The Little Freedoms,” which begins aggressively and introduces the past, present and future that we’re about to see unfold. “I just wanna touch your soul / But you only want my rock and roll” is our hero’s main dilemma. Complete with the line “this picture is torn” and the unconventional rhythm changes, it is clear that we are in for a ride.

“The Goddess in the Garden” outs our antagonist, dear old mom. The song opens with a dreamscape, not unlike Led Zeppelin’s “The Rain Song,” then rips, balladeers, jams and rips again. As Freud’s psychoanalytic tell-me-about-your-muzzah goes, this woman clearly wears one face to the crowd and a second one to her family: “Is loving me just too much to grasp / So can I burn with you through all the evil that I do … I’m waiting for you to abuse me.” The tune abruptly ends with the powerful, “So kiss me with your razor blade lips.” Wow and wow.

“Feed Me to the Spiders,” however, doesn’t give me much insight besides the notions of being trapped and served as dinner, or as admission of defeat to critics. Our hero may be under a spotlight. The family may be well-known (possibly royal or political), photographed and gossiped about regularly. I’ll leave the interpretation of “We just lost everything beautiful” up to you.

Following are “Lovers Drink For Free” (comparable to the vibe of Pink Floyd’s “Any Colour You Like”) and “His Station And For Aces” which proclaim the hero’s escapes from family life.

The title “Lovers Drink For Free” suggests an unlimited source of intoxication – a girl he likes. I had visions of Baz Lurhman’s film Romeo+Juliet when they flirt at the Capulet’s costume ball: “There was no music, only dancing / Two lonely spirits moving softly … I can’t make you trust me / Then disappoint you again … My eyes don’t deserve to see that you’re beautiful.” This track features the best guitar work on the album, dropping and gaining tempo seamlessly.

“His Station and Four Aces” is an assertive, yet tender, lament regarding our hero’s wishes for the girl to accept him, his faults and optimistic future. His “station” possibly being his current situation with an over-bearing mother, and his “four aces” being his secret winning hand in the game. OR it could be foreshadowing the end of his mother’s reign…

What is causing me this storyline confusion? It’s because I believe the subjects of  “The Dancers” could be funeral mourners OR it could simply be referring to guests at a party. There are clues of a state of emergency (Drop the telephone, and run), an event that could be ironic entertainment (When does the dancing begin … The dancers got it wrong), a death (Burn your body down / I can taste your ashes on my lips), disdain (I’m shouting to the rain/ To let it cover my face) and a protest due to the megaphone-like proclamations. Are the dancers pallbearers or unsuspecting witnesses? (Yes, I could’ve easily called on Sound and Shape to answer my questions, but chose to leave some room for interpretation and your own conclusions.)

“The Plea” is perfect fit in all of its 48 seconds of glory. It’s an acoustic, possibly live cut that is naked and vulnerable as it dogmatically repeats, “Drop the gun.”

At last, “Under The Rose” reveals our pinnacle sense of defeating one’s demons. It seems as the though the gun has been fired upon dear old mom. The son finally sees (I wanted just to see you / I gasped in my last breath) his mother (So take away this broken fool) with an unguarded innocence she’d never shown (Smiling like daddy’s little girl). While I feel that this song should’ve been more bluesy and heart wrenching, its strength celebrates freedom, albeit the guilt surely soon to be expressed.

“September” recalls the girl he loves. Like “The Plea” it wears its heart on its shoulder with “Let’s make love with radio on / We’ll drown ourselves in the transmission static … This December boy just wants his September girl.”

Just as the aforementioned phrase “with winter must come spring” has it’s yang of the inevitable return of winter, the nature of guilt comes full circle in “Soldiers! Oh!, Soldiers.” It offers “Don’t cry for me /I’m only make-believe” paired with “Confusion is our only friend.” He’s determined to be vindicated on moral reasoning, like self-defense, to move on from his regret and to live his life by his terms, even if that means marching out of that town on parade.

Our finale is “Telegram (Of The Fall Of Father Sunshine).” We revisit the erected images of our hero’s fallen family: “Now the curtain closes on our hero … He was defeated by the colors of the brush … The canvas hangs a little lower these days / And you can see the frame about to break.” As the entire town has taken the family off its pedestal and his childhood home has been neglected, we’re left with the notion that out hero has lived happily ever after.

Okay, now that we have the song cycle out of the way, we can peer behind the curtain at the trio responsible for this stroll down yellow brick road. Sound and Shape consist of Ryan Caudle (guitar/vocals), Jerry Pentecost (drums and percussion) and Avery Gardner (bass) – an ambitious outfit whom are currently prepping a European tour.

While their most supportive fan base resides in Alabama, they have traveled coast  to coast gaining momentum. While they tip their collateral hat to music from their youth (Prince, Al Green, Marvin Gaye, Donny Hathaway, The Beatles, Journey, Queen), on-going life serves as their major influence.

As Jerry Pentecost admits that, “The easiest and funniest part is just playing. We all love to play and when you are doing something you love, nothings hard,” he recoils with, “harmonies sometimes are.”

With more local shows on the forefront and the backing of Smithseven Records, I firmly believe this band has the talent and the panache to find success wherever they go.

If I didn't hate my nose so much today, I could be found within the crowd at their show tonight at The End, hearing the tracks stand on their own without a grand design. That's where I'd rather be.