Album Review: The Name Rings A Bell That Drowns Out Your Voice by Knievel
Knievel’s The Name Rings A Bell That Drowns Out Your Voice is one of those albums that sneaks up on you. Released in 1969, it blends genres like Pop/Rock and Alternative/Indie Rock with a pinch of Jangle Pop and Indie Pop charm. With its roots spanning Japan, the US, and Australia, this record feels like a patchwork quilt of influences stitched together by labels In Music We Trust and Quietly Suburban Recordings. It doesn’t scream perfection—there are moments where things feel rough around the edges—but maybe that’s what makes it stick.
Two tracks stand out for me: “Who’s On My Side” and “Thoughts In A Pattern.” The former hits hard because it's got this raw energy to it. You can tell Knievel wasn’t trying too hard to polish every note; instead, they let the grit shine through. There’s something about the way the guitars jangle against the rhythm—it kind of reminds you of walking down an empty street late at night, wondering if anyone really gets you. And then there’s “Thoughts In A Pattern,” which takes a different route altogether. This track is more introspective, almost dreamy. The lyrics loop back on themselves, much like your own thoughts do when you're stuck overthinking life’s big questions. It’s not perfect—it drags a little toward the end—but damn, does it make you stop and think.
The production credits add another layer of intrigue. Engineer Peter Jones and mixer Wayne Connolly deserve props for keeping the sound grounded yet expansive. Producer Greg Wales steps in on track five, adding his touch without overshadowing Knievel’s vision. Meanwhile, the band itself handles recording duties, giving the album a DIY vibe that feels authentic, even decades later.
One thing I gotta say—it’s kinda wild how many repeats there are in the tracklist. Songs like “Faces on the Journey” and “Need To Know Basis” show up twice, but honestly? It works. Instead of feeling redundant, these reprises act like echoes, reinforcing the themes running throughout the album. Like déjà vu, but intentional.
Looking back, The Name Rings A Bell That Drowns Out Your Voice isn’t just some relic from 1969. Sure, it’s aged, but it still resonates today. Maybe it’s the vulnerability in the songwriting or the way the melodies linger long after the last chord fades. Or maybe it’s just the fact that no matter where you’re from—Japan, the US, or Australia—you’ve probably felt lost or misunderstood at some point. Listening to this album feels like finding a friend who gets it.
And here’s the kicker: despite all its quirks, this record never tries to be anything other than what it is—a snapshot of a moment in time, flaws and all. If you ask me, that’s worth more than any glossy, overproduced hit single. So yeah, give it a spin. Just don’t expect perfection. Sometimes, imperfection says it best.
Rating: 8/10
