Published on Jan 21, 2005
Nation Of Two, as the name suggests, is a two-piece band that
hails from the grunge-capital of the world, Seattle; the lineup
reads, Darius Morrison on guitars & vocals and Phil Vignec on
drums & vocals.
The duo consider Nina Simone as their “patron saint,” a saint
who is defending their “Nation Of Two.” They are also influenced by
feminist activists, and as a matter of fact, there is a track in
the record titled “Dai Sil Kim Gibson” (referring to the female
Korean-American documentary film-maker of the same name).
The strong ardent feminist influences, and the supposedly
suggesting band name could have a lot to do with the fact that
Morrison is actually a female-to-male transgender Asian-American.
Hence, Nation Of Two represents the strength of such social
outcasts who bear the courage to defy the system of short-sighted
individuals.
The duo’s music, having a garage-punk feel to it, resembles that
of their Seattle counterparts Mudhoney, and exhibits all the anger
of being social outcasts. Their debut record The Kingdom is an
album of raw emotions and stripped down music: guitars — with few
simple chords and drums — pounded ad hoc, pretty much make up as
the music on the album. The rage of a social outcast shows in the
lyrics, as Morrison drones “My blood is not thicker than water; who
is my mother/father/sister/brother; and who are my people?” on
“Blood.”
The singing of Morrison and Vignec sounds like an outpour of
angry discontentment of two very different types — Morrison
growls, and Vignec whines — rather than a genuine attempt to sing,
per se. In fact, it is discernable from the whole demeanor of the
LP that not much planning went into the making of it. Although it
could be argued that unplanned music comes out best, the duo’s
sound is so crude that they haven’t even bothered (or deliberately
not wanted) to fix up basic solecisms, making the songs sound
random and disconnected.
At many points on the disc the vocals drift aimlessly off-track
from the music, and the whole song sounds senselessly awkward. Even
the guitars and drums behave in total disharmony with each other,
and the music sounds like it has been recorded without rehearsals,
on the very first take, and put on a disc without having given
attention to the flaws made whilst the recording process.
Nevertheless, both Morrison and Vignec are skilled musicians —
certainly much more talented players than singers. With the record
virtually devoid of even the basses, the duo show great promise
with making good use of whatever little they have. Morrison’s
haphazard guitar-lines are original and sincere. Vignec is an
excellent drummer, and his rapid jungle-beat like clatter
throughout most songs, imparts a unique feature to the band’s
sound.
The Kingdom seems nothing more than a result of spontaneous
jam-sessions between Morrison and Vignec, and this is what hurts
the album most. A little bit of thought and effort into trying to
polish off the elements that make the record sound drunk and
out-of-balance might have yielded much better results.