by Dan Goldin (@post_trash_)
Ian Teeple is a musician that seems to scratch at whatever itches. He’s never chasing trends, but he’s happy to shift and push the boundaries, creating as his interests are piqued. He’s played in Natural Man Band and Warm Bodies, earning a pedigree for inscrutable hardcore and animated synth-punk, both projects that eschew any punk machismo in favor of the deranged and distorted, the reckless yet melodic. In the years since those records (and his many prior projects), Teeple has been following the many creative threads of his music as a solo artist under the name Silicone Prairie. His debut, My Life On The Silicone Prairie, released at the beginning of 2021, introduced the anything-is-possible-yet-everything-remains-cohesive magic of the project. Songs with synths that buzz like a hoard of cicadas sit directly next to tracks with mangled guitar solos, everything pulled and stretched by jagged rhythms and a sort of punch drunk framework, stumbling around in the blinding sunlight. It became an immediate highlight for anyone looking for punk with an emphasis on personality.
We’re not about to start calling Ian Teeple “The Freewheelin’ Silicone Prairie,” but the name probably fits a lot more than you might imagine it ever would. He’s not making Dylan-esque folk music, but the artistic sense of freedom that reigns supreme on his latest album, Vol. II, is immediately apparent. It’s that sense of exploration (along with Teeple’s songwriting) that make up the heart of the record. Each song reformats the script, but the overall writing ties it together. He’s content to choogle along in a warped and weird world of progressive bedroom pop, distorted post-punk, glam-tinged power-pop, alien dream-pop, and lo-fi psych. While Teeple has become a fixture of the DIY punk world over the last decade, the Kansas City musician can’t be tied down to one aesthetic, and Vol. II is something that feels brilliantly different, intricate by design, but raw in performance and fidelity. It’s an art rock record with a punk spirit and if nothing else, an adventurous rabbit hole for anyone gracious enough to follow him down into the void.
Vol. II feels at times like a lost Nuggets collection, or maybe a late 80’s equivalent, Teeple’s songs hit in a way similar to digging through the crates at a record store, pulling out gem after gem. The sound throughout the record is in fluid motion, from the squiggly post-punk of “Serpent In The Grass” that sounds like a freaky collision of Television and Devo, to the New Zealand jangle of “Cows,” and the acid pop croon of “Painting Trains”. There are touches of The Cleaners From Venus, early Guided By Voices, Sic Alps, and maybe even a hint of Meat Puppets (“Victorian Flame”), but these references are broad strokes and Silicone Prairie has arranged the record in fine detail. Bursts of nervy guitars and detuned snares are balanced with hypnotic synths, layered textures of tape manipulation, and a soft sense of humor. The focus blurs from time to time, but there’s a genuine pulse to Vol. II, punctuated by sparse but insistent drums. With wiry rhythms holding down the plot, Teeple is able to make the occasional detour, embracing sunset fuzz (“Neon Moon), silky grooves (“Mirror On The Wall”), deluxe jangle (“Elysian Fields”), and cosmic lounge-act jazz (“The Minotaur”).
The production could be best be described as lo-fuss vs lo-fi, there’s nothing sleek about it, but everything can be heard in full dynamic splendor. It’s a sound that works brilliantly for Silicone Prairie, it’s raw but rooted in clarity, building upon the nuance of the songs rather than detracting from them. When taken all together, the album feels fearless, it feels natural. These are home spun recordings and anything is possible and, more importantly, welcome. Primal grunts , syrupy harmonies, and warbling space-age synths crackle and accent atmospheric drifts, nasal melodies, and acidic charm galore. Silicone Prairie is finding balance in unbalance.