Review & Full Album Stream: Zippo, Ode to Maximum Reissue
Posted in audiObelisk, Reviews on October 15th, 2018 by JJ Koczan
[Click play above to listen to Zippo’s Ode to Maximum in its entirety. The full remaster with bonus tracks is out Nov. 2 on Spikerot Records.]
We live in an age where albums come out twice all the time. A band records on their own and does a self-release, digital or sometimes physical, and then later on at some point that record is picked up by a label for wider distribution and/or a physical pressing. The difference with Zippo‘s Ode to Maximum is that it’s happening 12 years later. Probably fair, then to call the Spikerot Records vinyl version of the then-five-piece Italian outfit’s debut full-length a reissue, what with the Tony Reed remaster, new cover art, bonus tracks and all, but its core desert rocking approach and forays into psychedelia on “Night Jam” and “Crazy Forest” lend a sonic reach to the grounded material surrounding.
The band is currently a four-piece with Alessandro Sergente on guitar, but in 2006, Sergente was joined by fellow guitarist Silvio Spina and bassist Tonino Bosco (Paolo Garofalo handles bass now), as well as vocalist Davide Straccione and drummer Federico Sergente, both of whom remain with Zippo now. Based in Pescara on the Adriatic Coast, they’ve done three albums since Ode to Maximum in the form of 2009’s The Road to Knowledge (discussed here), 2011’s Maktub and 2016’s After Us (discussed here), and each time branched out someplace new from where they started with the original 10 tracks of Ode to Maximum, which from the Lowrider-style wah of “Forgotten Season” to the suitably named thick-toned stomper “The Elephant March” and the careening “Tukay’s Fury” that precedes, basks in the glory days of the heavy rock movement that started a decade before it was made.
It was the MySpace era, but Zippo concerned themselves more with the doings of Kyuss and certainly offshoot project Slo Burn, whose “July” is covered as one of the bonus tracks here, recorded in 2014, in the early and mid ’90s. With a raw-ish production and a mix that puts the bass as the foundation of songs like “Kid in the Desert,” however otherwise led by the riffs they may be, Zippo tapped early into what have since become some of the most enduring aspects of the original Californian desert rock movement — and we’ll throw some Sweden in there for Lowrider, too — while putting their own inevitable stamp on the approach with a sense of rhythmic quirk, gutted-out vocals and diverse songwriting.
Beginning with the intro “Alpha” and ending with the complementary “Omega,” Ode to Maximum unfurls a self-aware sonic blend of chunky-style riffing on “Tsunami Dust” with the fervent rumble establishing itself beneath the two guitars and Straccione‘s vocals. A departure into a playfully-malevolent break brings some element of Faith No More to the proceedings, but as “Tsunami Dust” moves into highlight cut “S.N.A.P.R.S.T.,” the jazzy interlude and aggro finish in the latter already has some context hinting toward its arrival. Clearly Zippo were never just about mimicry of the Californian scene, and the rest of Ode to Maximum bears that out.
Originally a 45-minute outing — the bonus tracks push that to 55 on the remaster — Ode to Maximum has a linear fluidity that speaks to the time of its release, when CD was still the dominant physical media, if in decline with the increasing reach of the digital sphere. The handclaps in “Forgotten Season,” either natural or keyboard — something about them is awfully consistent sounding — vocal layering and manic lead guitar are nonetheless standout factors emblematic of the manner in which songs are distinguished throughout. In addition to the new CD release, though, Spikerot has a 2LP version of the album, and one imagines the same distinguishing factors help establish a breadth as Zippo move from one song and one side to the next.
I won’t claim to know where the sides split, but “Night Jam” is a serene departure from “Forgotten Season,” and “Kid in the Desert” renews the quirked-up post-Kyuss thrust ahead of “Crazy Forest,” which is the longest cut on the album at eight minutes, and if that’s side B, then it’s a solid one. “Crazy Forest” taps into progressive nuance to go along with its standout nodder fuzz riff — something of a foreshadow for the seven-minute “The Elephant March” still to come — and ends with an almost hypnotic rhythm before a last-second shove leads the way into “Tukay’s Fury.”
As it’s sandwiched between the two longest tracks, it would make sense that it’s the shortest (non-intro/outro) piece at 3:22, with starts and stops in the verses shifting into a high-gear hook with a high-energy delivery the whole way through until finally the thing seems to crash to its finish and directly into the start of “The Elephant March,” which is obviously intended as the apex of the record. And so it is. Big riffs get bigger as it courses through its second half, finishing at about six minutes in so the last minute can be consumed by a swell of insect noise, either flies or bees. Kind of a curious choice with “Omega” still to follow and lead the way out of the album as a whole, but it was 2006. Times were crazy. “Omega” fluidly answers “Alpha” with a minute or so of riffing and some sustained ringout that fades to a finish, leaving just “Night Jam #2” — heavier, proggier, more plotted — and the aforementioned Slo Burn redux to cap.
Though recorded later, “July” is a pretty fitting conclusion for Ode to Maximum, and the treatment they give it — again, the bass — does right by the original while allowing Zippo to make their mark on it as well. The album preceding functions in much the same way, portraying a band working their way toward an understanding of who they are as a group and what they want to bring to the tenets of their chosen genre. They’ve gone on to answer that question with subsequent albums, so in a way it’s like cheating to listen to Ode to Maximum and know the future, but a debut release is a special moment for a band that doesn’t come again, and this look back gives Zippo a chance to emphasize how far they’ve come since as well as the clarity of mission with which they started out.
