Pieces

Twelve flights up a faceless Manhattan high-rise, shuttled through the gate of a black steel cage amidst the din and clamor of belching amplifiers, muffled cymbal crashes, and heavy oak doors bursting open and slamming shut; around a corner past a hungry looking Mariachi group and into a space no larger than a racquet ball court overflowing with radiating young bodies and industrial-sized trashcans packed with ice and beer—this is how I was first introduced to Pieces. And in this environment of swirling intensity, their performance reflected the atmosphere so succinctly that you could read the predilection in the faces of the crowd. First impressions go a long way. As such, meeting with Pieces’ debut recording some time later, a full-length album entitled Rainy Day People, the ember of that initial experience began to glow and I anticipated that same intensity. What I found, however, was not only the potency of approach I had expected, but a stylistic dynamism that surprised me. In short, Rainy Day People is well worth exploring.

After a handful of listens there emerges a well defined and intentional concept permeating the album: the passage from day to night. But rather than the trite journey from sunrise to sunset found in too many nursery rhymes and half-hatched literary efforts, Rainy Day People feels as though it begins in the wee hours of the night before and cycles thusly, giving it a restless edge and a taste of the surreal. From the opening track, “Come Down”, which floats along dreamy and ethereal through the dawn’s chorus, to “Pandora’s Boat”, the churning and cathartic finale that concludes the album amidst the next night’s rush of adrenalin, the sense of journey in Rainy Day People keeps it from feeling like a mere collection of songs—the curse of so many groups’ initial efforts. Time passes oddly when you aren’t on schedule with the mundane pulse of the daytime world, and so the departure from any typical time cycle in Rainy Day People is also a departure from a generic take on the human relationship to time. One track, “The Morning”, exemplifies this theme, speaking of the fledgling day as an opportunity for optimism, but also for alienation, for while a new day signals rebirth around the globe, “the morning’s only happening in this time zone”. Such insights are well attuned to the fluctuating psychic states that accompany foregone sleep, in which detachment and fantasy may give way to periods of poignant clarity at one moment and resignation the next. However, the wide breadth of perspective in this album never becomes too disparate, and the overarching journey, though elastic, remains cohesive. Degrees of intensity wax and wane not only from track to track, but within songs as well, lending Rainy Day People an organic quality that is refreshing in an era of program music and concepts either too rigid or too abstract.

Pieces is comprised of brothers Nick and Mike Paliocha, teamed with Dan Koz, and the trio is based New York City. As with most bands of their calibration, Pieces’ is guided by a single member, Nick, but the influence of Mike and Dan is undeniable, and it’s clear that these three individuals, each in their unique way, comprise a sound and attitude that couldn’t be accomplished individually. Rainy Day People highlights the strengths of each, though never in an overloaded, limelight-searching way. Most often emotive and sincere, and occasionally caustic, Nick’s vocals complement and intensify his guitar playing, serving as a tool to interweave what might otherwise seem to be disparate lyrical and harmonic content, as when poignant phrases ride atop glistening and up-beat riffs. Mike’s bass playing is solid and foundational without being predictable and exhibits a tasteful palette of tones. Surprisingly melodic, the bass lines are often felt at the forefront of the tracks, rather than being buried beneath layers of harmonic content. Restraint, a vital quality in a drummer and a philosophy employed by Dan, is notable in soft (though not simplistic) passages, yet abandoned for almost violent textural sophistication during passages of greater intensity. The individual characteristics of the musicians are also blazoned in the satiny vocal harmonies that emboss many of the tracks. In several rich instances, the lush vocal textures drive along biting lyrical content in a dichotomy that echoes and enforces the surreal and dream-like qualities exhibited by the album as a whole. The tactful musicianship of these three is apparent throughout, and Pieces perform as an autonomous unit—like the individual mechanisms of a powerful machine gyrating in harmony in point and counterpoint alike.

Incorporating elements of funk and jazz into rock and roll stylings that range from lounge to punk, Pieces has created a dynamic album that strikes a balance between physicality and intellectuality. It is a rare occurrence to come across music that can incite dancing at one moment and invite calm contemplation the next, without feeling abrupt or asynchronous. Pieces isn’t the only band around today evoking styles of the past, but they are in league with the few who do so sincerely while avoiding the noncommittal irony of much contemporary music. Production wise, Rainy Day People sparkles where appropriate, is restrained when necessary, and thunders in all the right places. Overdubs are not excessive, and the songs are all strong enough so that studio effects are employed as embellishments and not as compositional tools. To put it succinctly, Rainy Day People offers listeners the energy and excitement of Pieces’ live performances, but also something to keep them intrigued over a series of rainy days.

-Andy Lambert
March, 2010
- Andy Lambert