Sex God

"Tell me something I don't know"


Sex God - "Good Day"


In the last year, Aaron Maine's Sex God Cowboys (formerly space Ghost Cowboys) picked up steam, pulling ahead as far and away the most promising band to come out of SUNY Purchase Class of '10--quite a feat for someone who was never enrolled in that highly exclusive music conservatory. The band has taken strides in creative output, and "Good Day" the eighth song from Aaron's solo release "The Secret Album" shows just how many steps they've taken forward. The incorporation of violin, thumping basshits and even a pager sample (?), all indications of the high creative ceiling for this band.

I remember reading an interview he did for The Submission where explained why he didn't want to study music academically, saying something along of the lines of not wanting to "fuck with" music like that. And that shows in the teeth gnashing irreverence of the band's live shows, which by the end of this past semester had roped in schoolwide notoriety for their often rawkus, always crowd surfing voracity. Due to the nature of the music consevatory at Purchase, music majors are under tremendous pressure to be more than just a guy with a guitar; there is such a tendency to hyper-conceptualize, (see Deacon, Dan), and the refreshing thing about Aaron Maine is the he is just that--a guy with a guitar. And I think that's what people are really looking for in music--honesty.



All SUNY Purchase nepitism aside, the visceral gravity of Sex God Cowboys is undeniable. If Aaron Maine knows one thing, it's that heart-break is the strongest musical unifier of all, and the band goes after that theme with reckless abandon. The loss of a girlfriend, unrequited love, the unbearable pangs of being alone. Tired motifs, in the grand spectrum of things. But what sets Sex God apart from the pantheon of bands who hang themselves up on childish heartache, Maine accentuates the exhiliration of the break-up, glorifies it and in doing so makes everyone feel better about their most private hearts. This is especially evident in their live shows, where the superficial barriers of projection are broken and animalistic mosh pits materialize. Maine croons and spills guts, and what's left is that very primal unity. Aaron sings with an almost self-parodical tone, irreverant songs are delivered with a wink, the self-loathing lyrics put forth without shame, knowing damn well you'll (perhaps begrudhingly) know just what he's crooning over.

SEX GOD COWBOYS - "Wolf" - Live at Port Chester Beach Party from Luke Carr on Vimeo.

Sex God Cowboys, live in my living room

One of the most endearing facets of the band is that they wear on their sleeves solidairity with imminent post-grunge bands of the nineties--early Weezer, The Pixies and of course Pavement--and Aaron's got a knack for pop hooks, infiltrating eardrums by force. I know I'm not alone in saying Sex God's choruses have taunted my mind's jukebox many afternoons, where I cant walk the streets of Portchester without my brain crooning the lyrics to "time goes by, whatever" over and over again.



The Sad Album, put out last year by Sam Schacter's "Shack Attack Records", is devoted to the anguish of romantic dissillusionment, advertently obsessed with cinematic teen movie themes, high school emotions, puppy love gone awry. Songs like "Graveyard Bed", "Wolf", Apple Pie", and "Hole" all possess that melodramatic poignancy that is so tricky to achieve. There are two kinds of lamenters--on the one hand you have the whiners, whose lament is a mere ploy for pity and self-aggrandizement. On the other hand there is the type who laments with a sense of humor, regarding the tragedy as a cruel joke, poking fun and maintaining a bizarre sense of humility. Sex God delivers numbers, puntcuated with honesty while incorporating true stories of personal crisis. Then soaks the song in a vat of unharnessed distortion and screeching feedback. We can all resonate with that.