One Hundred Dollar Room

Chronique

Completing a busy 2000 campaign, Kind of Like Spitting's third release of the year featured more of the same complex arrangements and vivid imagery that marked their previous releases. While Ben Barnett seems to be trying to cram multiple sonic and lyrical ideas into the structure of tracks like "One Bird, One Stone," with various tempo changes and disjointed guitar solos erupting within the three to four minute range, the majority of One Hundred Dollar Room retains the reflective, serene feel of previous releases. Emphasizing rather simple production techniques, the surreal, witty, and occasionally incomprehensible nature of his songwriting is given equal footing with the sophisticated arrangements that are similarly free of cliché. Ruminating on failed relationships, death, and the trials of human existence in general, Kind of Like Spitting provide an indie rock grab bag of sorts, balancing quiet reflective passages with spiked guitar-induced climaxes. Barnett's squeaky voice, an excellent vehicle for the emotion he communicates through his intense narrative, perfectly complements his increasing tendency toward the loud-soft dynamic in tracks like "Yes, You're Busted" and "Cater." Neither invasive nor evasive, Kind of Like Spitting make songs that are reliably good, remarkably accessible, but probably not exemplary enough in any one respect to merit essential status.

© Matt Fink /TiVo