In the decades since rock n' roll first took off, there are plenty of records which “should have been huge,” but just weren't. There are as many reasons why those records didn't become classics as there are albums that fall into this ill-fated 'heartbreaker' category but, really, it can all be boiled down to a couple of nagging variables: either A) The record in question simply didn't get enough exposure or into the outlets where it would have generated the positive notice it needed, or B) The band who made the record had already been judged and abandoned by the public without hope of reprieve. That second possibility seems overly harsh, but it's not as uncommon as readers might think; Local H's 2008 release, Twelve Angry Months is just one example among hundreds.
Banished for twelve years because a fluke, throwaway song struck a chord and dragged them into the spotlight for about a month in 1996, Local H got dubbed a one-hit wonder with the success of “Bound For The Floor” and were then summarily forgotten when they didn’t grab the brass ring and start writing sound-alike hits. The band was more interested in following its muse than cashing in and they paid for it; wandering to no less than four different labels and pressing forward, but never again registering on the popular radar. Because of that stigma, it’s questionable how many people ever actually heard Twelve Angry Months and that’s painfully unfortunate―it’s a most incredible album. Lots of bands have written good break-up songs before, but Twelve Angry Months is a concept album that tells the story of a bad break-up that’s so vivid, it’s difficult to assume the account is entirely fictional; anyone that has ever had their heart broken will recognize the plain-spoken sentiments and the progression of them in these twelve tracks. Twelve Angry Months opens right at the end of the relationship with “The One With ‘Kid’”: an account of that moment after the shit has hit the fan and the album's protagonist has recoiled into shock before launching into equal parts wounded fury and pettiness. The song divides record collections in the spirit of one-sided fairness (on the block: Zeppelin albums, Interpol, Libertines AC/DC, that Pretenders album―you know, “the one with ‘Kid’” ―and “all my Kyuss records―you never liked them until you met me”) and rails out every petty urge that singer/guitarist/bassist Scott Lucas can come up with in four and a half minutes. The hurt in his voice is unmistakable and so genuine that one could swear he was yelling at a photograph for inspiration in the studio during the recording session. From there, the album devolves immediately into pettiness and harsh over-criticism (“Michelle (Again)” and “BMW Man” respectively) and rests in hopeless hurt for five months (each of the twelve tracks represents a month in the post-break-up year) before “24 Hour Break-Up Session” re-opens the wounds. By then though, the emotional damage has already crippled this story’s main character and so what follows in “Simple Pleas” and “Machine Sled Wrestling” can only be characterized as grim resignation. By “Blur,” the album's protagonist has picked himself up off the floor to look around and the healing process begins. That isn’t to say that everything is fine – he's emerged from the wreckage an altered beast that’s irrevocably darker – but “Hand To Mouth” finds the tortured protagonist looking forward and starting to pick up the pieces. Through each chapter, the band has penned complimentary music for each mood that supports the plot rather than simply accompanying it; when Lucas screams, so does his guitar and as he’s coming down, so too do the decibel levels. It all amounts to a compelling, engaging, consistent and (most importantly) believable storyline that draws listeners in and keeps them riveted because of both the intrinsic accessibility of the subject and the way it’s presented: you’ve lived the content of Twelve Angry Months and can’t help but want to see if you’re not the only one that came out of it the way you did.
The passion present in Twelve Angry Months remains palpable, even listening to the album years after its release. The album's potency hasn't faded in the slightest but the catch is that, while it should have been the record which bought Local H a second lease on life, it barely received a second look from the public. That is the true tragedy of this album; as good as it is, it also stands as the dictionary definition of a 'neglected classic.' That's why Ground Control has elected to make the record the lucky number seven slot in its Classics column; it is deserving of respect, and clearly needs a little luck.
Artist:
www.localh.com/
www.myspace.com/localh
www.facebook.com/LocalH
www.twitter.com/localh
Album:
12 Angry Months remains available. Buy it here on Amazon .
