More Than a Blip

By NATALIE NICHOLS

Aug. 1, 2002 12 AM PT

SPECIAL TO THE TIMES

Like the country-rock freakouts of Beachwood Sparks or the sprawling psychedelia of the defunct Grant Lee Buffalo, the Radar Brothers’ moody, vivid music is deeply rooted in hidden parts of Los Angeles and its surroundings. Some have labeled the band’s austere, impressionistic folk-rock depressing, but leader Jim Putnam doesn’t see it that way.

“To me, ballads are uplifting,” says the singer-songwriter-guitarist, who will join bandmates Senon Williams (bass) and Steve Goodfriend (drums) tonight at the Knitting Factory to wrap up a U.S. tour supporting their third album, “And the Surrounding Mountains.”

How’s it been going?

“We’ve had some trouble with our vehicle,” he says. Neatly mirroring his music, Putnam’s deliberate, almost languid way of speaking belies a deeper intensity as he nonchalantly describes the kind of incident that’s frighteningly routine for bands on the road.

“We were driving from Lawrence, Kan., to Denver, and the hood flipped up,” he says. “I was driving, doing 75 miles an hour. It totaled the windshield.”

He emits a low, wry chuckle. “The cruise control was on, so I had to think, ‘OK, turn off the cruise control. OK, now, look over to the side and watch the lines [and pull over].’ It was pretty scary.”

Putnam seemingly handled the ordeal with the same methodical calm that informs his music. He founded the Radar Brothers eight years ago after stints as a guitarist in Brad Laner’s melodic noise-rock group Medicine and its tripped-out spinoff Maids of Gravity.

His current sound is more subtly mind-expanding, drawing from Neil Young as much as Pink Floyd, with vibrating guitars, naked vocals and sometimes surreal lyrics blurring vivid sonic brush strokes across the songs’ broad melodic canvases.

The band’s rootsy, dreamlike music earned critical acclaim from its earliest recordings--a self-released, self-titled 1995 EP and a 1996 album, also self-titled, on Restless Records. Spin magazine called 1999’s “The Singing Hatchet” “a perfect desert island disc for a vacation with God,” and the group was nominated this year for an L.A. Weekly Music Award. Like so many unconventional local acts, the Brothers also have devoted followings in Europe and the U.K., where they recently finished touring with the Breeders.

As he did for “The Singing Hatchet,” Putnam produced “Surrounding Mountains” in his home studio in Atwater Village. His organic approach to recording tends to humanize the music, which might feel more remote with a slicker treatment.

He’s been around knobs and meters since childhood, as his producer-engineer father, Bill Putnam Sr., recorded such luminaries as Frank Sinatra and Count Basie, and founded the Hollywood studio that is now Ocean Way Recordings. Indeed, Putnam and his brother recently revived their dad’s business making sound recording equipment under the name Universal Audio.

Living in Los Angeles has also shaped his music, Putnam says. “You do a lot of driving. You’re just kind of watching things go by. I think of a lot of stuff while driving, and watching TV, too, which is kind of funny.”

Tunes such as “Still Evil” and “Morning Song” do feel partly like overheard conversations or snapshots of moments.

“Usually [I’m inspired by] funny things I see people do, or funny situations,” Putnam says. “Like, I’ll drive by someone’s house and see the family in the front, barbecuing or something. Then I’ll start thinking, ‘Well, what’s their world like?’ But it all kind of connects with me personally, too.”

His music has a passive element that telegraphs this tendency to spy on everyday life, but Putnam also finds it easier to write when he’s distracted in familiar surroundings. Like at the mall.

“It’s where a lot of humans congregate,” he says, so there are many moments to be mined. “Also, it’s just sort of the tragic world of the desperate consumer or something. But also, I grew up in shopping malls, so maybe it’s like a weird nostalgic thing. It’s depressing, but it’s also comforting.”

So perhaps there’s a trace of melancholy in his music, after all. Putnam just doesn’t want that to be the only thing people hear.

The Radar Brothers, with Earlimart and Silversun Pickups, play today at the Knitting Factory, 7021 Hollywood Blvd., L.A., 8 p.m. $8. (323) 463-0204.