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The Sounding Board

Rotary Club dial up fun on searing Sphere of Service

A new, weekly column where New Music Tuesdays live on. Conversation is encouraged in the comments.

Sphere of Service

Every Tuesday, the Sounding Board is a space for a short-ish review of a recent-ish release and conversations about new-to-you music. We’ll get things started with a write-up about a newer, likely under-heard album, and invite you to share your music musings in the comments.

Pulsing bursts of grainy noise can apparently evoke nostalgia.

The shrill, staccato tones that open “TDOS,” the sixth song on Rotary Club’s kickass new album, Sphere of Service1 will be a reunion with a long-lost acquaintance for anyone over 30.2 They’re the panicked pings of a landline phone’s off-hook tone with a pleasing layer of grime and grain.

Mercifully, it’s a short opening that successfully sails through the uprights of novel and grating. In a matter of seconds, drums creep in to fill the space in the frenetic frequency, guitar plinks keep pace with the phone tone, and coolly detached vocals intone, “overloaded limitation, telephonic degradation,” before sludgy bass rumbles through like a semi down a residential street. From then on, “TDOS” hits its herky-jerky stride with a careening melody formed by searing guitars and menacingly languid group vocals poetically detailing how a telephone denial of service attack works.3

It’s bizarre, but it rocks in a first-wave hardcore sort of way4 and it’s emblematic of the pleasures and challenges that comingle on “Sphere of Service,” a kinetic collection of searing songs that are inescapably preoccupied with landline phones.

That phone focus is sort of the raison d’être for this Reno, Nevada, band,5 who use the old tech as a jumping-off point and a lens. Telephone lines are both binding tendrils and safety lines. Connectivity is constant, but communication is rare. The world has never felt smaller, or more blanched of its distinguishing characteristics.

Stretched to prog-rock length, these ideas could become bloated and insufferably ponderous. However, on a lean, mean, album that practically shoves you out of the way to pogo past, they work. Almost every song on Sphere of Service is under three minutes long, several are under two minutes. Most of the time, choruses are just the song title shouted tunefully. There’s a lot of thought percolating under the surface of these oft-raging tunes, but there are also ample surface-level pleasures in the form of pounding drums, guitar screams and memorable hooks.

Plus, sometimes, a phone is just a phone.

That’s the case on album standout, “My Landline,” a delightfully feral rave-up built around a surf-y riff.6 It’s a 100-second ode to its titular device that carves out some of its brief runtime for a blistering guitar song. The album’s richer for engaging thoughtfully with its chosen theme, but few things in life are as much fun as a tear-the-roof-off rocker without much on its mind.

  1. Released December 13 on Iron Lung Records. ↩︎
  2. And they’ll likely register as recognizable, but less immediately so, to younger listeners. This is especially true if their job involves some proximity to a desk phone. ↩︎
  3. “They’re waiting out the glass door staring, wanting in. Begging for a courtesy but the chance is slim. Wired like a tourniquet, severed from their service. Demand exceeds supply when the line is occupied.” ↩︎
  4. The classic Killed by Death compilations serve as an inspiration for Sphere of Service, https://www.instagram.com/p/DCmSunapPQP/?img_index=1. ↩︎
  5. Yeah, the name is a groaner of a pun. I love it. ↩︎
  6. Gotta think it’s at least a partial homage to “Hanging on the Telephone.” ↩︎