Hearsay: Wednesday, April 3, 2003
East of I-30

HearSay’s in a lose-lose situation. See, a couple of months ago, your faithful columnist was driving along I-30 when something flew off the vehicle in front of HearSay’s bitchin’ pick-up and punctured a tire. HearSay pulled over and noticed that the people from the vehicle in front had also pulled to the side of the road. A bunch of musician types piled out of that car and duly helped HearSay change the tire. HearSay soon learned that the youngsters were musicians, so your columnist passed along its business card. The guys said, “Thanks,” hopped back into their van, and cruised away. They had nearly completely slipped from HearSay’s mind ... until a couple of weeks ago, when a c.d. entitled East of Wade appeared in HearSay’s mailbox, along with a letter explaining from whence the c.d. came, from the Hurst, Texas, band called East of Wade.

So what’s a body to do? If HearSay raves about the c.d., there will be a great gnashing of teeth among cynical readers — “Oh, HearSay just said it was good because they helped change his tire.” Now if HearSay slams the disc, there will be a great thunder roll of eyeballs among stupid readers — “Oh, HearSay slammed it because HearSay’s a prick! No matter whether or not he liked it, he should’ve said it was good, just ’cause those kids were cool!”

What’s worse is that no matter what HearSay says, it’s bound to reflect poorly on the band. By becoming involved with a band — and basically telling the world (well, at least Fort Worth) about it — HearSay has compromised its critical distance regarding the band. (Picture HearSay’s editor now sighing deeply.) The only thing to do is hope that Associate Editor (and resident wino) Anthony Mariani passes the disc along to either Ken Shimamoto or Matthew Smith, the Weekly’s other two music critics, and doesn’t explain the backstory. The question is whether or not a band from Hurst is worth devoting valuable paper real estate to.

Allow HearSay to step outside of its conflicted self and provide a kind of answer: Yes. Be on the lookout for a “Listen Up” of the c.d. some time soon.


HearSay’s gonna get all nuts and create a new sub-genre of rock: Bands That Wanna Be Radiohead.

Wanting to sound like said band isn’t necessarily a bad thing. (Think of, say, Bands That Wanna Be Son Volt.) It’s just that Radiohead, like the Radiohead we know from two years ago, is so ... two years ago. The moody atmospherics, the non-linear songs, the slick production, the woe-is-me frontman. It’s all so painfully self-conscious and deathly serious. Fort Worth’s Morning Overboard is a band HearSay didn’t wanna like for these reasons. The music, however, had other ideas.

Highly polished and drastically tuneful are two descriptions befitting the band. The musicianship is so crisp that whatever “serious” aspects about the band come through never appear contrived. Always a good thing.

Contact HearSay at hearsay@fwweekly.com.

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