Reviews
There's huge lots mucho good to say about "Bitches and Machines," the dynamite sophomore effort from Minneapolis-based singer/songwriter Pablo. Pegged by some as a "Folk artist with a post-punk sensibility," I prefer to describe Pablo as "Some guy with a guitar who, lyrically and experimentally, makes the rest of the CD's currently in my CD player sound like shit. And I don't listen to shit." This CD grabbed my attention right from the start, when the ending to the initial track, "Rebecca," made me laugh out loud with surprise at Pablo's slyness. Track 9, "Seed Dude," is hilarious filler. Other tracks such as the title track and "Firecracker" show his ability to craft a memorable tune or two. Also noteworthy here is the strong production, which highlights a creatively tracked and paced CD. But what impressed me the most about Pablo is his interesting lyrical work: "Rebecca/I never liked your name/That's why I changed it for this song," or "My father is a giant/I can provoke him...I know how to hurt him/But what profit is there in conquering the dead and dying." Creative, unusual and eclectic, "Bitches and Machines" is a treat for sore ears.
Demorama - Deneen Gannon
...sparse, profane, abrasive - a perverse amalgam of G.G.Allin and Woody Guthrie. He shocks the listener with Lenny Bruce-like obscenity, and then follows up with touching insight.
Pulse - Brad Cook
Familiars of the cabaret set know singer-songwriter Pablo to be emblematic of all the best the genre has to offer. Watching Pablo work the stage is a bit like watching a bungee jumper work from iffy moorings: The lift-off is often elegant, the arc breathtaking and the finish always filled with suspense. And behind the Balls-out sensibility is an engaging voice, instinctive phrasing, and some of the better songwriting to bubble up from the roots in a while.
The Twin Cities Reader - David Carr
If you think traditional American folk music is all about frogs and mama, go out and buy the American Anthology of Folk Music. Sex and violence are at the heart of our folk tradition, folks. But if the '60s revival did occasionally glance down at these darker roots, it more often set its sights on contemporary social struggles, forever associating the acoustic guitar with peace and justice. Three decades later the local acoustic scene has produced a number of ("post-") folk stars who mess with our ideas of what strumming sans amplifier should be about, including the Mason Jennings Band and Brenda Weiler. (Both, with any luck, will become giant pop stars in a few minutes.) Still, only singer-songwriter Pablo revives folk's first-person-narrative tradition of sex and violence, and he manages to do so without sounding either exhibitionist or boastful. He has a remarkable vocal range with a throat affectation that's in Dylan's tradition, not his style. Pablo's melodies sound like they've been thrown down a flight of stairs, jumping scores of notes, sometimes in a single syllable. "Goddamn the agile sexless dreams of imperfect history," he quavers at one point on his agile, sexful 1998 album, Vulgar Modalities. You tell it, brother.
Best Acoustic Performer 1999, City Pages
It takes a certain knack to sing raw folk songs about sex and violence without sounding merely provocative or exhibitionist. Pablo has it, and he uses his startling range to play out the drama of his street-level stories. Imagine the old Dylan singing "Lay Lady Lay" with the venom of "Masters of War," and you have an idea of the thrill of Vulgar Modalities , Pablo's new CD on Spiderbone. I can't imagine many other artists singing "Cock, oh infamous cock. Where are you taking us tonight?" and making you want to know the answer.
City Pages - Peter Scholtes
Prior to listening to local singer/songwriter Pablo's new album, Vulgar Modalities , I had asked a musically in the know friend to sum up concisely the artist's musical prowess: "Pablo's the guy who swears a lot." Thus, given today's consuming electronic musical climate, I immediately envisioned a DJ'd remix album featuring tricky-esque vocals panting the "F" word (looped, of course) over a Chemical Brothers "block-rockin'-beat." This incessant cussing would naturally trigger my guilt-ridden Judeo-Christian conscience, and I would be forced to contain nervous self-conscious giggles until the drum machine hit its last pre-programmed beat. It was quite a nice surprise to discover that what Pablo actually serves up to the local scene is a delightfully eccentric, albeit cuss-ladden, acoustic album on a silver platter. He may be criticized for having the mouth of a sailor, but that's just his hook: The wording Pablo uses is somehow nonchalant, yet gripping enough to be noticeable. Once you take the time to become familiar with the album, you'll find a songwriter who humorously hop-scotches visitors through a guided tour of his own thought museum. Picture an intimate campfire strummer who weaves odd stories with an imagination that begs the circle to endure the pesky mosquitoes and ticks and of course begs them to stuff their mouths with roasted marshmallows. With songs such as "Very Funky Dream" and "88.Whatever," Vulgar Modalities leaves the listener with more questions than answers and a wish that more late 90's music could do the same.
Lavendar - Melissa Maristuen
Pablo has been something of a Minneapolis underground success for about a decade now. One man, one guitar, one name-he has graced local audiences with insightful lyrics, beautiful melodies and dry humor. With the release of his new CD, Vulgar Modalities, Pablo may leave longtime fans in for something of a shock. While I mean this as nothing but a compliment, it is possibly the single most disturbing album I've heard in years. Where many "folksingers" turn their disgust towards societal ills, Pablo turns on himself, laying bare his own shortcomings, untruths and deceptions with an unnerving honesty. Listen closely and you may even hear some of your own lies. There's a lesson here that we could all stand to learn.
Pulse - Bill Snyder
It isn't often that you see a singer/songwriter cite Lenny Bruce as an influence. But such is the case with Minneapolis's Pablo, who writes pretty folk songs with an oft-unpretty tongue. Bitches and Machines isn't as abrasively profane as some of his earlier work, which disappointed this reviewer, but it does keep listeners on their toes, unsure of what's around the corner. The songs range from spacey exploration ("When We Were Animals") to fairly straightforward acoustic songs ("I Asked God").
Highlight Track: The title track features an easy, breezy summer-drive kind of melody, but the sing-along chorus isn't so sunny ("We're bitches, we're machines, we're spitting, biting pearls").
Honorable Mention: "Rebecca / I never liked your name" is one of the all-time great lines with which to open an album ("Rebecca"). Sung like a true folk punk.
Suite 101, Choice Cuts - Adam McKibbin
There are tinges of Bob Dylan and Dan Bern in the poetry of Minneapolis based singer-songwriter Pablo's new CD, "Vulgar Modalities" (Spiderbone Records). His story-songs bare all sorts of personal secrets; they're obscenely funny at times, bone-weary at others, but always refreshingly frank. The music of this new collection, which features just Pablo's deep baritone and a lone guitar, is overwhelmingly mellow, but it's also marked by a purely punk-rock disdain for catchy tunes and hum along melodies. Brash and contradictory, it's a collection that colors outside the lines.
Skyway News - Carolyn Petrie
Vulgar Modalities cuts straight through the bullshit with clarity, determination and unflinching honesty. Lyrically, Vulgar Modalities is like a series of poems co-written by Charles Bukowski and Walt Whitman. Musically, it's stark, spare and full of imagery, inviting an automatic comparison to early Leonard Cohen.
Pulse - Henry Horman