Eleventh Dream Day

Indie rockers rightly flaunted their distaste for the failings of the mainstream during the '80s and '90s, but their ranks produced plenty of mediocrity too. These Chicago scenesters are a case in point, with little to distinguish them besides the trends of the times that have bookended their career thus far. A heavy Sonic Youth influence lingers over the jangly and repetitive (and amateurish) first few albums, also recalling X in the howling double vocals of founders Rick Rizzo (guitar) and Janet Beveridge Bean (drums). But hard as they try, the group has neither SonicYouth's transcendent power nor X's frenzied emotional depth. The guitars strum endlessly because they don't know what else to do, the drums beat out a wobbly shuffle, and the songs go nowhere. How they ended up on a major for Beet through the impossibly dreary El Moodio is anybody's guess.

Back in indieland, the group's next three were produced by John McEntire, the Brian Eno of '90s Chicago. He remade the band in the image of his group Tortoise by peeling away the wallpaper of open-chord guitars and building focused, articulate arrangements with a minimum of sounds. From the very first notes of Ursa Major's instrumental opening, "History of Brokeback," a new Eleventh Dream Day emerges, with a strong, unhurried rhythm section and clear melodic patterns on guitar. The sound is under control and even interesting. But once the singing begins, they revert back to their old tricks and all advancements disappear. Eighth and its successor find the group falling more in line with late-'90s Chicago postrock, which is an improvement over their sloppy beginnings but only leaves them somewhere near the middle of a more up-to-date horse race. (BEN SISARIO)

From 2004's The New Rolling Stone Album Guide