Philo
(Hamsterwheel)
“Philo! Philo!” cackled the parrot. Bassist Junior Scott’s bird had become the obvious answer to the band’s name dilemma, but after deciding to dub themselves after their verbose feathered friend, local trio Philo determined never to repeat themselves again. An impressively diverse palette of songs and sounds that run the gamut from heavy modern rock to mariachi and all places in between, Philo‘s problem is that while most of the tracks work well in their own right, none of the ideas are thoroughly mined, and the result is an incongruous batch of songs that’s less than the sum of its parts. That said, the band manages to keep the ride interesting and deliver a couple of real winners along the way. “Straw” takes the Mental Jewelry-era Live template, distorts the vocals, and adds flourishes of treated guitar and textural percussion, while the somnolent “Blue Moon,” punctuated by lap steel and a slow, syncopated shuffle suddenly gives way to the galloping “Westenfield Park,” a convincing ode to the band’s former West Austin hood that sounds like a lost demo from the Old 97’s Too Far to Care. The album then degenerates into a couple of hackneyed slabs of soft rock, with only the fuzz-encrusted Iommi-esque riff of “Forgetful” saving face. It isn’t until the loungy, Latin-flavored “Don’t Stop … Continue,” that Philo really kicks in gear again. Singer Billy Fadel croons a booze-drenched tale of an ex-girlfriend at a bar, then finally amps up his guitar to complement the pounding cymbal and blaring mariachi trumpets. It’s one of a number of promising moments that unfortunately have little in common musically. Still, the promise is there, as is the versatility. Next on the agenda is figuring out which direction to take. 
This article appears in September 8 • 2000.