Phil Manley is, it seems, the kind of musician who could try on just about any genre for size and make a decent attempt at it. He's played in many bands, most notably the pliant Thrill Jockey mainstays Trans Am. A couple of years back he put out an album under his own name titled Life Coach, a moniker he now assumes as his solo guise. The changes made since then are barely perceptible. Essentially, he's an excellent mimic, with Alphawaves again demonstrating his affinity for reappropriating the core tools of Neu! and other krautrock acts, and for carbon reproductions of various other styles. But this isn't tribute-band trash; part of Manley's skill is in hauling new feeling out of well-trodden ideas. Klaus Dinger's motorik drum beat is now so commonplace that it's almost become corny, forcing anyone who goes near it to dig harder and deeper to draw something compelling from the source.
In truth, Manley only does Dinger once here, rinsing out his Neu! baggage early on and moving on elsewhere. When it comes, on the title track, it's pretty hard to resist, with drummer Jon Theodore (Mars Volta/Queens of the Stone Age) sticking to the impressively straight rhythm, electronic bass pumping like pistons underneath, and a Robert Fripp-inspired guitar squall bristling in all the right places. There's nothing new here, but it shows there's still some life to be found from well-worn ground, and it gets especially joyous when some Marnie Stern-like shredding chops across everything at the midway point. When Manley decides to channel My Bloody Valentine on the following track it feels like Alphawaves might be an exercise in determining whether any feeling can be dug out of influences that have been bled dry over the years, although the rest of the album ultimately ends up going down a different route.
If the early part of this record skies toward consciousness-altering, the rest is firmly grounded. It's not exactly Manley living out all his Rush fantasies, but it's not far removed. Like the first Life Coach album, there's no set style, no musical theme that runs throughout. It bears all the hallmarks of a loose collection of ideas, probably a lot of fun to play, with no set destination in mind. At its worst it's directionless, practice-room flab ("Into the Unknown"), less a track and more just some guys hanging out, cracking open a six-pack, and getting a feel for where each other's strengths lie. Elsewhere, the 90s alt-rock vibes are strong, with stout guitar riffs vying with strung-out vocals. The solos all come exactly when you expect them to, the playing is impeccable, and the production is crisp and sharp, as you'd expect from Manley, who has produced records for Wooden Shjips and the Fresh & Onlys, among others.
The original Life Coach record was something that wandered in search of an identity and largely came up wanting. There is an advance on that here, although it still only feels like you get into Manley's head for about half the album. That may be the place Life Coach is destined to occupy, bringing in a clutch of original thoughts and renewing old ideas that have been relentlessly hammered into the ground by others. It's not necessarily a bad place to be, just one that veers between pointlessness and illumination so sharply that it comes a little too close to actually watching a band figuring things out in real time. Most musicians don't like their side projects being referred to as side projects, but it's inescapable here, that feeling of finding something to do during downtime. At least Manley keeps it lean, making sure his rock has the requisite muscle then getting out sharp after 40 minutes. There is, after all, plenty of other things he has going on.
