 Bis
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Bis The New Transistor Heroes (Grand Royal/Capitol) Sure, earnest leftists, ardent rockists and other authenticity fetishists aren't entirely off-base in dismissing the day-glo anti-authoritarianism of these three insane Scottish children as a gimmick and a posture both - for all their anti-pop-star screeds, they want to be famous as desperately as the Oasis lads or Howard Stern. And good for them. I mean, what have earnest leftists or ardent rockists - or authenticity in any form - done for you lately? Their rants against fascism and conformity and their shouts out to a secret kiddie underground aren't supposed to evoke Gramsci or even Fugazi, but the age-old struggle of childlike simplicity and manic exuberance against the powers of corporate adulthood. That's a Disney-bowlderized fairy tale I'm a sucker for, especially with jerkily disco drum machinery, candied guitars and Manda Rin's demented cheerleading powering their DIY past all hints of the amateur.
- Keith Harris
Guided By Voices Mag Earwhig (Matador) Superb lo-fi. Let's just get that out now, because inevitably it will work its weasely little way into any Guided By Voices review. Yes, Mag Earwhig continues GBV's tradition as purveyors of the treasured lo-fi sound, a category they share along with Pavement and the mighty Lou Barlow, among others. Yes, there's been a little debate going over whether this and their last album have "rocked" more than their previous ones, implying that lo-fi is the genre of the wimpy, anemic guitar. Well, there are no anemic guitars to be found here. Unlike other bands in this genre, GBV doesn't hit on their one desired recipe for indie rock and plug that sucker to death. The 21-song album contains many a pretty, multilayered ballad, especially "Now to War" and the Beatles-inspired "Hollow Cheek," along with rollicking tunes like "Mute Superstar" and "Bomb in the Bee-hive." And still with that lovely "I did it all in my basement, goddamnit!" feel.
- Corrina Zappia
Eddie Angel Eddie Angel's Guitar Party (MuSick Recordings) Local surf label MuSick brings us the guitar twang of Eddie Angel in his pre-Los Straightjackets incarnation. Showcasing the better and more variegated side of modern surf music, this raw recording features a whole lotta upright bass. The record claims to have real dinosaurs on it, as well as more plausibly boasting a whole assortment of percussive instruments and horns. High points include the twisty "Kawanga," the rockabilly sting of "Itchy Chicken" and the far out "Mumbling Beatnik." Recorded in 1993 in the U.K., this is rumble and wail that doesn't get monotonous and redundant as quickly as the bulk of instro-surf tends to. Dick Dale fanatics, behold.
- Geeta Dalal
Gene Autry The Gene Autry Collection (Rhino, box set) Rhino has chosen 84 songs from radio transcriptions of Gene Autry's legendary Melody Ranch show, arranging them by era. The songs tell us as much about popular taste in that particular era as they do about Autry. Disc One is devoted to Autry's small string band sound, leaning on swing fiddle and classic steel guitar with lots of harmony backup. (Riders in the Sky are the modern embodiment of the early Autry Melody Ranch sound.) While careful editing has allowed the producers to combine many shows, they did include one skit to date the collection. In it, Gene plugs the March of Dimes and dedicates a song to President Roosevelt's upcoming birthday. The classic "Back in the Saddle" sets the tone for this volume which also reprise's Autry's hit "Silver Haired Daddy of Mine." Sentimental songs like "Maria Elena" and "Maggie" are included, but given a more hillbilly treatment than the examples on the next two volumes. The popification builds through Disc Three. On it we hear collaborations with Rosemary Clooney and soft dance band settings for retreads of then-contemporary Hank Williams Sr. hits.
Bettie Serveert Dust Bunnies (Matador/Capitol) Forget "alternative" - Bettie Serveert is the World's Greatest College Rock Band, channeling the hooks and ambivalence of every obscure yet vital indie band into an insistence that this frustratingly huge and stupid world can be safely navigated by smart people who trust in their wits and in one another. Shifting effortlessly from drunken, jaded winks to spacily bemused naiveté to hiply urbane swagger as the dissonant ebb and flow of Velvets-gone-pastoral drone clangs into a triumphantly chiming chorus. Chief navigator/vocalist Carol Van Dijk sifts through a messy mass of friendship and love and career and disillusionment with the assurance of a woman who believes she'll get into heaven on a fluke of predestination and wreak havoc upon arrival. Lines like "stop making the most of what you say you haven't got," take some kind of brains. Allowing your voice to crack just so on the chorus of "Sugar the Pill" takes some kind of genius.
- Keith Harris
Jerry Clower Live at Dollywood (MCA Nashville) You'd think the word "Dollywood" in the title plus Grand Ole Opry performer Jerry Clower would equal instant comedy material. Well, this is about as humorous as being broken down in the middle of Deliverance country at 2 a.m. Clower waxes less-than-eloquently here - introducing such additions to cosmopolitan vocabulary such as "menfolk" and "highfalutin," followed by uninspired hootin' and hollerin'. What the crowd probably laughs at the most is his creepy backwoods guffaw. The good ole boy's shtick is poking fun at such newfangled concepts as cellular phones, "sichul" (sexual) harassment and suing for various types of discrimination (which got the biggest holler and maybe even a "whoo-doggie" out of the Southern fried crowd). Really, the only upside to Dollywood is that it's comedy that's actually not about sex. I'm from West Virginia (and proud, dammit!), but even that didn't prepare me for this? If you want lighthearted country humor, go rent some old Andy Griffith. This isn't even worth the kitsch value.
-G.D.
Brand New Heavies Shelter (Delicious Vinyl) The Brand New Heavies' newest album, Shelter, is supposed to be set in a place called the Starlight Lounge in downtown Vegas - the kind of place where the carpet is shag, the special is blue plate, and the funk is deep. After more than half a decade at the vanguard of the acid-jazz insurgence, the Heavies have evidently decided to make a trip back into the land of lounge. This is not to say that they've gone the Vic Damone route, just that they've chilled their trademark acidelica out a bit. The result is an album that is not as dance-oriented as those of the past, but which also isn't as self-conscious either. Though new vocalist Siedah Garrett's mellifluous voice isn't as sultry as predecessor N'Dea Davenport's, it doesn't need to be - she's right at home in the down tempo Shelter of the Heavies' new direction. And as she says on "Sometimes," it's "a brand new situation - never before have I felt so free."
- Ben Dietz
David Byrne Feelings (Luaka Bop/Warner Bros.) The freakish ex-frontman for the Talking Heads continues to explore his vision of a musical global village, brazenly combining disparate styles, and taking experimental music places it has not (and, maybe, should not) venture. Which means that sometimes his projects work - i.e. the humorous salsa rip-off, "Miss America," and the spacy Jetson-esque collaboration with Devo, "Wicked Little Doll,"- but more often than not, they don't. Usually we allow Byrne more leeway for experimentation than others, as his beautifully cracked little voice and amusing one-liners often counterbalance his penchant for some pretty choppy genre-crossing. However, there are some places that no man, even the fabulous Mr. Byrne, may venture. Cajun zydeco with a sitar is one of them. Jungle with country and Western is another. - Corina Zappia
Lamb Lamb (Mercury) Lamb's eponymous debut is a remarkable record; as disconcerting as it is strangely appropriate, as difficult in some moments as it is deceptively simple in others. Though chanteuse Louise Rhodes and beatmeister Andy Barlow might be compared to other female-fronted electronic acts, most notably Portishead, such comparisons are far too facile to explicate the essence of Lamb's "new jazz" songcraft. Barlow and Rhodes supplant trip-hop's noirish sampling with a cascade of stuttering polyrhythms that is as hard to follow as it is easy to love. Songs like "Cotton Wool" forge stark new sonic trails only to reverse direction and back up over them, while "God Bless" and the outstanding "Gold" rethink drum 'n' bass conventions for a result that's nothing short of magnificent. What's most impressive, however, is the duo's skill in piecing together an album that never repeats itself; a rarity in a electronic movement so invested in repetition.
- Ben Dietz
The Pulsars The Pulsars (Almo Sounds) If John Hughes were still making movies that spoke to my generation, he would tap the Pulsars to provide the score. David and Harry Trumfio make music that is both large and delicate, intricate and so familiar you wonder if you haven't heard this song somewhere before. This duo from Chicago channel New Order, Echo and the Bunnymen and Big Audio Dynamite and still sound fresh. Keyboards, organ, synthesizers and a mighty horn and string section make these 16 songs full and muscular, and not a bit twee. "Silicon Teens" is anthemic and satisfying enough to allow the listener to envision the closing credits rolling over an actor's face, and strange enough to appeal to almost everyone. Most of the lyrics deal with an alienation so strong that the singer wants to leave the planet ("Runaway"), or hole up somewhere with his pet robot Theodore ("My Pet Robot"), and yet even these songs are buoyant (especially "Das Lifeboat"), not morose.
- Alex Richmond
The Supersuckers Must've Been High (Sub Pop) If the Supersuckers can't rock you, then you can't be rocked - period. These four guys have been bangin' away at their Gibsons for a while now, producing punk rock driven by bassist/songwriter Eddie Supersucker, or Eddie Spaghetti, or whatever he's calling himself today. The band's fifth record, Must've Been High, however, is different. It's simple. It's quiet. It's a country album. The music starts with a wailing harmonica sailing out of the hiss of scratchy vinyl, backed by authoritative guitars and quiet drums. Fans won't be disappointed by these slower, quieter tunes, however. The Supersuckers still are able to poke fun at themselves and what they do, proven by the ballad "Barricade" ("You don't have to be afraid, behind the barricade/ This is the best place we've ever played"). Eddie's duet with Kelly Deal starts off sweet and ends up full of pain as they face another bleary day on "Hungover Again." And Eddie kicks up his heels on "Hangin' Out With Me," the best love song he's written in quite a while. Must've Been High is the perfect morning-after record - so saddle up, and catch up with these trailblazers, punk.
- A.R.
That Dog Retreat From the Sun (DGC) With guitars toned and revved, violin lines blossoming into full-string settings, and a real live go-go playing synth on the single, the contrast between this wonderfully, glossily, great big pop sellout and Anna Waronker's dreamily flat vocals is the ideal clash of fantasy and reality for a collective of tunes about how insanely you want your latest crush to move across the country for you and how you want to run away once he does. Anna's such a sweetie that cynics trained to expect undue resentment or forced profundity to be wrung from failed relationships may mistake her for a simp when she merely sighs "la la la la la" a bit more sadly. But she's just a child of silly love songs, too smart to expect them to come true and too romantic to believe in any other sentiment. In this context, "By definition, a crush must hurt" is an achingly profound insight, and "la la la la la," a defiant and no less profound declaration of purpose.
- K.H.
The Supersuckers |
