For the Secret Machines, the destination is nowhere, and getting there is all the fun.
Now Here Is Nowhere, their first full-length record and follow-up to 2002's September 000 EP, introduces the trio from Dallas-by-way-of-New York and places them firmly on the echelon of their psychedelic pop brethren from the mid-South, like the Flaming Lips and the Polyphonic Spree. The Secret Machines are more abstract in their harder-edged approach, with inventive production that is sparser and more spacious than the choral cacophony of the Spree or the lush lullaby balladry of the Lips. Guitarist Ben Curtis sings with the fragile rustic timbre of Neil Young crossed with the somewhat dry-throated deliberateness of Syd Barrett, and when he and his brother Brandon (bass and keyboards) are harmonizing, as they do to heighten the drama at pivotal points in the development of their adventurous songs, they actually end up sounding more like mid-'80s Love and Rockets. But even though similarities with any of these bands put the Secret Machines in good company, the fact that they've already surpassed the influence of these cornerstones and begun forging their own forward-looking path bodes well for their future. Their developmental journey is well underway, and Now Here Is Nowhere is a souvenir document of sensory snapshots.
The liberating opening cut, "First Wave Intact", measures the initial hour of the long drive before ennui sets in. The highway grows progressively less familiar as the surroundings change. Each mile marker flies past, represented here by the huge rhythm section that carries the song, celebrating the transitory location of the passengers as they revel in the escape. The tour guides first have to reiterate what is being left behind. As a repetitive guitar lick balances above the rhythm, the roll call vocals offer fleeting sentiments of paranoia and doubt ("Listen close, they're watching us", "Hold still, they're shooting us", "I wonder when they're coming back") only to be immediately dismissed by the reassuring chorus of "First wave down!" After six and a half minutes, the melody surprisingly ascends, thwarting the potential of highway hypnosis: "The walls don't move, don't change, does it make you feel ashamed?" The questions may seem heavier, but the mood lightens, until finally, the titular declaration announces that the Secret Machines are in complete control; when they travel, they make checklists of what not to bring along.
They are also the rare psychedelic band who keep to the point -- there are no digressions into noodly space jams to obscure the way. Each rest area along the road is a significant stopping point and worth either a tranquil five-minute stretch, or a necessary tire-change when the road gets bumpy. "Sad and Lonely", a major contender for alternative radio play, revolves around the rhythm created by dueling fuzzed-out guitars underneath the whomping beat of drummer Josh Garza. "Leaves Are Gone" refuels the tank, providing a significant Velvet Underground-meets-Pink Floyd refreshment before the album takes off again. The sobering and bewildering "Road Leads Where It's Led" is the massive ten-car pile-up in the opposite lane, as Curtis sings of "blowing all the other kids away", while the urgent "Light's On" menaces with traces of Led Zeppelin and the darker side of Nuggets-era garage rock.
"Nowhere Again" is the centerpiece of the album, a bright, driving pop song built along a melody line in the verse reminiscent of the Kinks' "Lola". As a precursor to the elaborately arranged, extended title cut that closes the record, it is, in fact, the billboard advertising the destination, distilling it to its most immediate and likable qualities to make it as inviting and presentable as possible. "Oh, you'd be surprised / How we race / While our lives/ Erased" seems to hint that "nowhere" is actually the vagueness formed by not taking note of one's surroundings, further affirming that the motto of the Secret Machines is one of enjoying the passage. "We know we're lost, we're lost in nowhere now."
For the Secret Machines, Nowhere is somewhere, an admirable destination, and we're lucky to get to share the ride.
— 13 May 2004
