Transplants Albums (2)
'Haunted Cities'
Release Date 1/1/2005
Tracks 12
Label La Salle/Atlantic Group
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Transplants' 2002 debut shouldn't have worked. There was the supergroup tag, for one, with Tim Armstrong and Travis Barker at the center of a trio that also included vocalist/rapper Ron Aston. And besides, their charge of modified punk revivalism, streetscape grit, and hip-hop bravado seemed (on paper anyway) like music for the villains in a DMX action vehicle, or at the very least a sound tailored for game systems. Nevertheless it was oddly effective, and managed some real atmosphere. In 2005 the Transplants return. They've skipped from Armstrong's Hellcat imprint to Barker's Atlantic-distributed La Salle, but it's close to the same sound on Haunted Cities. Opener "Not Today" suggests the first record's "Tall Cans in the Air"; it sounds like a futuristic retelling of 1977 punk, and Sen Dog stops by for a guest verse. "Apocalypse Now" isn't as effective -- its lyrical rage is empty, and the converted drum'n'bass backing track doesn't go anywhere. But the single "Gangsters and Thugs" is as oddly effective as the debut with its turntables and hedonism, organ drop-ins, and skittering percussion racket. "Gangsters and thugs/Criminals and hoods/Some of my friends sell records/Some of my friends sell drugs." And speaking of Sen Dog, B Real appears on the dubby swagger "Killafornia." "What I Can't Describe" appropriates vintage soul and Cali G-funk; it even features some raps from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. The swaggering "Madness" sounds like a Rancid track recut to fit the Transplants' shadowy street-fighting sound -- while the hammering guitar and Armstrong's vocal part are pulled right from punk, the theremin-and-keyboard breakdowns are strange flashbulbs from an alternate Golden State reality where it's always night and thugs drive around in jet-powered Packards. Haunted Cities suffers lyrically. Blood, guts, and I'll punch you (or worse) if you look my way -- that's about the size of it, particularly when Aston's on the mike. But the weird Clash-isms of "American Guns" and "I Want It All"'s chopped-up rhythms and scratches work even though they shouldn't. It's all so blatantly postmodern. But the whole package ends up having this strangely alluring glimmer. It's like discovering California Babylon after being lost in suburbia. ~ Johnny Loftus, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
An inspired side project, Transplants features Tim Armstrong of Rancid, Armstrong's buddy Rob Aston rapping, blink-182 drummer Travis Barker, and a host of pals dropping in. They don't really sound much like Rancid, though at times one does hear the Clash in these tunes. A bit more rock & roll than punk rock, Transplants spare listeners any ska tunes. However, there is plenty of hip-hop courtesy of Aston, who raps in a macho and at times grating style with no shortage of borrowed gangsta clichés. In fact, Transplants sound best when he's not shouting about gats and hos. Every time Armstrong's gutter punk-accented, mushmouth voice appears, Transplants sound more soulful than rap-rock. Armstrong hasn't written hook-filled songs like these since And Out Come the Wolves. "Down in Oakland," the one song he wrote without Aston, is among the album's catchiest. Check out Armstrong's slick and reverby surf guitar on this one. Aside from singing like a punk rock Marvin Gaye and playing snazzy guitar leads, Armstrong is also responsible for the blues piano loops that anchor "Diamonds and Guns" and "California Babylon," songs that sound a good deal better than their titles. Perhaps the album's best number is the downbeat "Weigh on My Mind," featuring the throaty, understated background vocals of Brody Armstrong of the Distillers, who sings the chorus "I've got so many problems and they weigh on my mind" with her husband, Armstrong. When are they going to make a record together? Among the other key contributors is Vic Ruggiero of the Slackers, who lays down some cool piano and organ grooves throughout. And there's a not half-bad rap tune called "D.R.E.A.M.," which bites an overused Method Man refrain from the Wu-Tang Clan song "C.R.E.A.M.," but sports a beat that's as G-funk as punk gets. ~ Adam Bregman, All Music Guide
