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December 31, 2003
M. Ward: Transfiguration of Vincent
Merge, 2003
Rating: 4.0
The greatest change, or transfiguration, on Matt Ward’s third album,
Transfiguration of Vincent, is the Portland, Oregon-based artist’s
take on David Bowie’s “Let’s Dance.” Stripping away the melodrama and
reducing the familiar '80s hit to a moody plea for comfort at the
terminal end of a broken relationship, Ward makes the song his; as he
does with just about every form of music he interprets. Ward expands on
(and smoothes the rough edges of) the back-road folk-blues fusion of
2001’s impressive End of Amnesia, offering stronger hooks and
richer lyrical imagery. The catchy, shimmering guitar work of “Outta My
Head” and the deliriously inventive “Helicopter,” in which a man runs up
a fire escape to save his baby from a “mess this world has made,” swings
and moves with an energy the remainder of the album is hard-pressed to
sustain. Other highlights include the woozy, wonderfully off-kilter
“Sad, Sad Song” and “A Voice at the End of the Line,” a tender,
gloomy-faced ballad that wouldn’t have sounded out of place during the
early days of the Kennedy administration. Ward has a knack for taking
timeworn melodies and infusing them with a wit and honesty that have
little chance of ever sounding dated.
:::
Laurence Station
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December 31, 2003
The Fiery Furnaces: Gallowsbird's Bark
Rough Trade, 2003
Rating: 3.5
The Beatles' intentionally slapdash White Album contained fully
fleshed out, classic songs ("Dear Prudence," "While My Guitar Gently
Weeps") and wildly silly sketches seemingly tossed off between the real
takes ("The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill," "Rocky Raccoon").
Imagine an entire album of nothing but first run-through Rocky Raccoons
and The Fiery Furnaces' debut, Gallowsbird's Bark, justifies its
existence. There's a fresh, willy-nilly playfulness to the sixteen songs
(most of them under three minutes), as if brother-sister duo
Matthew and Eleanor Friedberger were unknowingly taped while jamming
together one night in the family den. There's not much diversity in the
arrangements, banged out primarily on piano and guitar, but the pair's
exuberance proves infectious. "Up in the North" and "Worry Worry" hit
closest to the center mark, while "Bow Wow" is a little too reliant on
coy, childlike rhymes ("Down in the dumps / Me and the seagulls we were
looking for lumps") to leave a favorable impression. Gallowsbird's
Bark possesses a stripped-down, almost primitive musical spirit and
some clever wordplay regarding Eleanor's European travels. The Fiery
Furnaces are a curious twosome, and it'll be interesting to hear what
they conjure up next.
:::
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December 31, 2003
Jay Farrar: Terroir Blues
Act/Resist, 2003
Rating: 3.0
If Sebastopol
was Jay Farrar's attempt at experimenting with the structure and ideas
of his music, Terroir Blues is a slight retreat to the sturdy,
wood-carved, acoustic-based numbers that were his bread and butter in
Son Volt. Of course, there's Sebastopol residue here (in the form
of the six-part "Space Junk" noise loops scattered across the disc) and
more than a little indulgence (four tracks get reprised). Despite some
fine moments (the quietly impassioned "Heart on the Ground" and "Fool
King's Crown," an interesting exercise in remote vocal distortion
technique), what holds Terroir Blues back is the lack of a sense
of revelry in the joy of creating music, or at the very least, a hint of
spontaneity. There's a preordained seriousness here, undoubtedly
influenced by the passing of Farrar's father during the writing of the
songs, which makes for a taxing slog. Lacking the surliness of "Damn
Shame" or the keen-eyed acidity of "Barstow," two of Sebastopol's
standout cuts, Terroir Blues gets bogged down in a spot few
listeners will endure inhabiting for long.
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December 31, 2003
Jim Lauderdale & Donna the Buffalo: Wait Til Spring
Dualtone / Skycrunch Records, 2003
Rating: 3.6
The pairing of stylistically restless troubadour Jim Lauderdale with
folk-rock jam-band Donna the Buffalo proves mostly successful on Wait
Til Spring. Genre-hopping from bluesy roots-rock (the opening title
track) to breezy retro numbers ("Holding Back"'s distinct surf-rock
vibe; the synchronized harmonizing on "Ginger Peach"), Wait Til
Spring covers a lot of ground, held together by Lauderdale's
consistently strong songwriting ("Listen to her ride the clouds /
Flashing through the silence / Showing us that she's around") and Donna
the Buffalo's tight musicianship ("This World Is Getting Mean" features
some masterfully restrained guitar lines). The clunkers are real
doozies, though: The tepid blue-eyed soul of "Slow Motion Trouble"
sounds like Van Morrison on an off-off day, while the blandly arranged
"Awake Now" could be a reject from an America recording session circa
1972. Lauderdale's willingness to explore as many musical styles as
possible may not be the most financially secure move he could make, but
it's pretty obvious that's the least of his concerns. Here's hoping he
never kicks his heels up on the ottoman of his many laurels.
:::
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December 31, 2003
Wilco: More Like the Moon [EP]
Self-released, 2003
Rating: 3.0
Available as a free download on the band's website (providing you have a
copy of
Yankee Hotel Foxtrot in your computer's CD drive), More Like the
Moon is a twenty-odd minute, six-song collection of what sound like
works in progress. Not entirely a palette cleanser (too short) nor an
assemblage of tunes too out of sync with the vibe of recent efforts,
Moon is mostly a treat for fans who've bought the album (sorry,
file-traders) before the band's next full-length arrives. Points of
interest: Foxtrot's "Kamera" gets a correct spelling, and a less
successful reworking, as "Camera", all swirling keyboards and fuzzy
overcast buzz muzzling the vocal mix. "Handshake Drugs" is a meandering
guitar ditty, with a shaggy-dog beat and some harmless piano bosh for
window dressing. "Woodgrain" is half-formed solo Tweedy lethargy, an
insomniac-at-three-a.m. acoustic sketch that sounds like it was tossed
off sitting at the kitchen table. The closing title track offers the
impressive couplet "Collapsing galaxies / Feathered with falling stars."
More Like the Moon can't quite clear its celestial inspiration.
For legitimate owners of Foxtrot, however, you really can't beat
the asking price.
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December 27, 2003
Kinky: Atlas
Nettwerk Records, 2003
Rating: 3.5
While many attempts have been made to encapsulate Kinky's sound in a
compact term ("Nuevo-Latino," "Worldbeat-Funk"), it's easier to think of
the Mexican fivesome's second full-length record as the kick-ass
soundtrack to one of those killer video games that can only be played on
consoles you can't afford. In that vein, it comes as no surprise to learn
that the band has given Moby a run for his money when it comes to
providing background music to "cutting-edge" commercials. Fortunately, as
anyone familiar with the band's 2002 self-titled
debut can attest, Kinky's indescribable sound holds up just as well
over an entire disc. With Atlas, the band has managed to take a
step forward by adding elements of electronica and trance that barely
registered on its previous effort. Especially notable is the decision to
record several songs in English, including aggressive stomps like "Airport
Feelings" and "My God is So Quiet." Atlas does a good job of
capturing the energy of the band's spontaneous live show, much of which is
provided by infectious, Latin-tinged percussion. If you choose not to
familiarize yourself with Atlas, rest assured that there are many
folks on Madison Avenue who are currently plotting to ensure that you
become acquainted with the band regardless.
:::
Eric Grossman
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December 24, 2003
Explosions in the Sky: The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place
Temporary Residence, 2003
Rating: 3.8
If 2001's Those Who Tell the Truth Shall Die, Those
Who Tell the Truth Shall Live Forever occupied the murky no-man's-land
between life and death, then The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place,
Explosions in the Sky's follow up, emphatically chooses life over death.
The evocatively titled opener "First Breath After Coma" and the bracingly
affirmative closer "Your Hand in Mine" imply a sense of optimism that the
darker Those Who Tell the Truth did not. Utilizing the same
straightforward dual guitar, bass and drums approach as before, the Austin
quartet doesn't elevate its sound so much as refine the basic "one ringing
note mushrooming into a thunderous crescendo" template. There's nothing
here on par with Truth's "Have You Passed Through This Night?" and
its aptly chosen dialogue sampling from Terrence Malick's poetic,
war-as-folly epic The Thin Red Line. But Earth does brighten
the brooding sturm und drang skies, revealing a band not driven by
a dark muse to the point of repetitive parody. Explosions in the Sky might
be in a holding pattern, stylistically speaking, but there are lot worse
patterns the band could be working from.
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December 18, 2003
Kelis: Tasty
Arista/Star, 2003
Rating: 4.0
After releasing an ear-grabbing debut (Kaleidoscope) and a less
successful follow-up (Wanderland), Kelis goes for the top of the
charts with Tasty, far and away her most radio-friendly album to
date. The Harlem-born urban R&B artist, who's exhibited a penchant for
multicolored hairstyles and progressive, edgy production (courtesy of her
collaborations with the
Neptunes), reins
in her wilder impulses in favor of more obvious hooks and tried and true
retro-soul beats. Kelis plays her strongest hand with the trio of songs
that open the album: "Trick Me," with its aggressive beat and assertive
guitar work; "Milkshake," with its sexually-charged piledriver rhythm and
fantastic use of an "order-up" counter bell; and "Keep It Down," a tip of
the cap to old school hip-hop and big-crunch production. The middle third,
by contrast, drags Tasty down a few notches: "Protect My Heart" is
a surprisingly bland Neptunes-powered production, while "Glow" and "Sugar
Honey Iced Tea" (another Neptunes cut) drain the album's energy with
slow-poured, smoothed-over soul numbers that seems ill-placed amongst the
wealth of high-energy tracks surrounding them. But Kelis pulls it out in
the clutch, finishing strong with the warm beat and effortless flow of
"Rolling Through the Hood" and the suggestively erotic "Stick Up."
Tasty might not be her most flavorful release, but it should
accomplish exactly what it sets out to do: Up her profile.
:::
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December 16, 2003
Al Green: I Can't Stop
Blue Note, 2003
Rating: 4.0
I Can't Stop is being hailed as a comeback, both for Al Green and
for the swaggering, joyful soul music he made with producer Willie
Mitchell in the early '70s. And for the most part it is, an album lovingly
swaddled in the vintage production touches, including organ swells and
gorgeously harmonious backup singers, that marked such Hi Records
hallmarks as Green's high-water mark, 1972's beautiful Let's Stay
Together. Green can't be said to have ever really left the
Southern-fried soul with which he made his bones, having attempted returns
with Mitchell in the '80s and '90s. But I Can't Stop comes the
closest he's ever come to recapturing both the sound and the spirit
of his artistic heyday. "I Can't Stop," "I'd Still Choose You" and "I've
Been Waitin' on You" (not to be confused with "You," "I've Been Thinkin'
About You" or "My Problem is You") bristle with Green's contagious
exuberance, goosed with hip-swaying horns and agreeable melodies. The
earnest ballad "Rainin' In My Heart" flirts aggressively with cliché, but
its understated musical buoyancy carries it through, and by the time Green
nails the weathered urgency of "Not Tonight," it's long forgotten. Given
how long it's been since Green and Mitchell worked so well together, I
Can't Stop is impressively consistent: There's not a sub-par song in
the bunch. And if there aren't exactly any timeless gems, either, that's
certainly forgivable; the punchy horns in "Play to Win" and "I'd Still
Choose You," Green's elated falsetto -- all of these moments make for a
bouncy, head-bopping nostalgia trip. I Can't Stop isn't as flat-out
uplifting (or, frankly, anywhere near as sexy) as his classic early
albums. But it's such a likable record, a return to form if not entirely
function, that such minor quibbles are rendered irrelevant.
:::
Kevin Forest Moreau
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December 12, 2003
Barenaked Ladies: Everything to Everyone
Reprise, 2003
Rating: 3.4
On the basis of incessantly quirky, cavity-inducing songs like the
breakout hit "One Week," it's tempting to dismiss Canada's Barenaked
Ladies as an arena-filling band of jokey lightweights. To be sure,
Everything to Everyone certainly packs in the humorous moments that
were largely lacking from the group's last album, 2000's Maroon.
But it also shows principal songwriters Steven Page and Ed Robertson
reflecting on weightier topics related to the band's double-edged
popularity. On the opening "Celebrity," Page paints a not-too-subtle
picture of a nameless star coming to grips with an emptiness inside and a
disconnect from humanity, while Robertson uses "Testing, 1, 2, 3" to
slightly tweak the band's most recognizable sound: "Kinda like the last
time / With a bunch of really fast rhymes / If I shed the irony / Would
everybody cheer me? / If I acted less like me / Would I be in the clear?"
Even the single "Another Postcard" is a wry wink at that aforementioned
formula, taking the rapid-rhyme verse and sung chorus approach to its
goofy extreme with a ridiculous song about chimpanzee stationery.
"Shopping" is a semi-snide crack at consumer culture, while the ballad
"War on Drugs" breaks the prevailing mood with a somber meditation on
suicide and despair, among other things. Otherwise, Everyone (note
the intended irony of the title) sticks to the Ladies' familiar pop-rock
model, although "For You" breezes along on an O, Brother vibe. The
album shows that Barenaked Ladies have little desire to discard their
whimsical side, although it makes a good case that they're also not going
to let themselves be defined by it without a fight.
:::
Kevin Forest Moreau
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December 11, 2003
Jonny Greenwood: Bodysong
EMI, 2003
Rating: 4.0
With the soundtrack to Bodysong, Simon Pummell's cycle-of-life film
collage (which uses snippets of footage from a century of cinema to track
the breadth of human experience),
Radiohead multi-instrumentalist Jonny
Greenwood manages to create sounds that follow the film's basic structure
(conception, birth, growing up, growing old, dying) without falling into
the trap of obvious sonic signifiers (say, a newborn-sounding violin's
wail or death-rattle percussion). Instead, Greenwood makes a collage of
his own, using digital samples, a little guitar, and the talents of the
Emperor String Quartet to flesh out an evocative, rather than literal,
musical journey from womb to grave. "Moon Trills" employs delicate piano
and aching strings to suggest life's creation, followed by the more
sterile, electronic "Moon Mall." "Trench" features clipped, percussive
beats, whereas the polyrhythmic "Convergence" is less restrained in its
drum work. Fans of Radiohead's "National Anthem" will appreciate the
free-ranging horns on "Splitter," while the closing "Tehellet," drenched
in morose strings and bolstered by a moody rhythm section, closes the
cycle in appropriately grim fashion. Certainly, Greenwood's songs are best
heard in the proper context of Pummell's film. But they bear a distinctive
enough stamp to stand sturdily alongside the work he's created with his
more famous day job.
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December 08, 2003
Elvis Costello: North
Deutsche Grammophon, 2003
Rating: 4.0
Not as self-consciously academic as 1993's The Juliet Letters, and
far more in the spirit of the loose, effortlessly graceful pop of 1998's
Burt Bacharach collaboration Painted from Memory, Elvis Costello's
North is the anti-When I Was Cruel. There
are no ringing guitars, no vitriolic anthems. Imagine sitting in an
airport lounge, waiting out a delay, or in an upscale club: one of those
dark, smoky, members-only joints. In the background, playing to no one in
particular, is a man at a piano, serving up one slow, bourbon-poured
ballad of love and loss after another. You spend the entire evening
chatting with friends or staring at a muted television screen, but the
following morning you can't get the music out of your head; it's managed
to seep into your subconscious, impeccably played and meaningful without
calling needless attention to itself. Granted, North is more than
Costello at a piano; there are strings and horns bolstering these eleven
tracks. But the mood is intimate, personal and unapologetically sappy.
Costello opens with heartbreak ("You Left Me In The Dark") and closes with
a ray of hope ("I'm In The Mood Again"). The seamless flow from dark to
light is almost too faultless: North moves with an inevitable
constancy, and could have perhaps benefited from one or two more upbeat
tracks. But such consistency is certainly a forgivable flaw, especially
when it's done as elegantly and earnestly as presented here.
:::
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December 05, 2003
Robert Wyatt: Cuckooland
Hannibal, 2003
Rating: 4.0
Robert Wyatt opens Cuckooland by stating "Faith may not be such a
bad thing;" this from a man who's been a paraplegic since 1973, when he
fell out a window during a party in London and busted his spine. Rather
than vanish from the music scene (and considering that his bread and
butter was as a drummer, such a retreat would have been perfectly
understandable), Wyatt instead refocused his energies on string and brass
instruments and, critically, perfected the distinctive, wounded falsetto
that has become the focal point of his subsequent releases. Cuckooland,
like Wyatt's work with the Soft Machine and his solo releases, is drenched
in jazz ideas, motifs and arrangements. From the slow, sighing horns on
opener "Just A Bit" to the shuffling bossa nova rhythms behind the
DeMoraes and Jobim classic "Insensatez," Wyatt's love of the mutability
and freedom of the form permeates the album. His left of center politics
are hard to miss, as well. "Lullaby for Hamza" deals with the
psychological damage wrought on children born around the time of the first
Gulf War, while "Foreign Accents" is a moody litany of atrocities and
human rights violations. Cuckooland's sixteen compositions are
evenly divided by approximately thirty seconds of silence (certainly, the
Second World War's Thirty Seconds over Tokyo comes to mind). Cuckooland
doesn't entirely reconcile its drowsy, smoky jazz numbers with Wyatt's
fiery polemics, but it does showcase the artist's interests and passions
as well as any release since Rock Bottom, Wyatt's initial work
after his tragic accident.
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December 05, 2003
Gorky's Zygotic Mynci: Sleep/Holiday
Sanctuary, 2003
Rating: 3.7
Despite label shakeups and cash flow issues, Gorky's Zygotic Mynci
soldiers on, crafting a unique brand of folk-pop that thankfully eschews
ephemeral trends in favor of time-proven melodies and heartfelt delivery.
Sleep/Holiday presents a fairly balanced mixture of slow and
mid-tempo numbers staggered across its twelve tracks. The closest the
Welsh band gets to actually rocking out is on "Mow The Lawn," a chugging
near-burner undermined by a nagging, too-formal violin, which regrettably
detracts from the otherwise stripped-down, no-frills delivery. While
nothing here surpasses the infectious, sing-along pop elegance of "Let
Those Blue Skies" from 2001's How I Long to Feel That Summer in My
Heart, "Eyes Of Green, Green, Green" achieves a graceful beauty that
reinforces just how good Gorky's is at taking simple melodies and infusing
them with a warmth and weight that belie such humble origins. "Only Takes
A Night" incorporates some much-needed, guitar-powered brawn to the
primarily piano- and string-based arrangements. Overall, Sleep/Holiday
finds Gorky's sticking to its idiosyncratic pop guns, and in doing so
makes one hope the band handles future adversity with similar grace and
care.
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December 02, 2003
Counting Crows: Films About Ghosts: The Best Of
Geffen, 2003
Rating: 3.8
Counting Crows have released but four studio albums. Thus, a Best Of
retrospective might seem a bit premature. However, the band has been
around ten years and has never been particularly album-oriented, so a
summation of the group's brightest moments seems appropriate. Films
About Ghosts fits the bill to a T, as it covers all the most familiar
hits ("Round Here," "Mr. Jones," "A Long December"). It also does a nice
job of including some of the best songs the band's ever recorded (the
infectiously shambolic "Hanginaround" and the tortuously introspective
"Anna Begins"), though attentive fans may quibble about the absence of "A
Murder of One" and "Daylight Fading." Curiously, there's no rhyme or
reason to the sequencing. Chronologically, running from the non-album 1991
demo "Einstein on the Beach (For an Eggman)" through the so-so new track
"She Don't Want Nobody Near" would have worked fine. That approach would
have displayed the band's progression from aping heavyweight classic rock
influences (The Band, Bob Dylan, Van Morrison, et al) to making genuinely
affecting, more personalized music (the rambling "Mrs. Potter's Lullaby"
and the piano-based ballad "Holiday in Spain"). The random jumble
presented here proves jarring, especially when a solid but hardly
revelatory cover of the Grateful Dead classic "Friend of the Devil"
appears in between Crows originals. Not only does its inclusion break the
flow; it's also somewhat incongruous to hear the singles-focused Crows
cover a stridently AOR, non-radio darling of a group. For the casual fan
or neophyte, however, Films About Ghosts covers all the basics,
providing all the Crows most of them will ever need.
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November 28, 2003
Jet: Get Born
Elektra/Asylum, 2003
Rating: 3.3
Know all those trying-to-be-cool rock and roll kids, the ones that are
keeping the vintage T-shirt stores in business? Next time you see one
wearing headphones, listen for the strains of Jet's debut CD, Get Born.
The Australian four-piece has burst into the mainstream thanks to a sense
of style (with their skinny jeans and AC/DC shirts, they could be poster
boys for the retro-70s look), and, more importantly, a killer lead track.
You'd have to be living under a rock to have not heard "Are You Gonna Be
My Girl," which has saturated alternative radio (it's also the soundtrack
to those ubiquitous IPod commercials). Like the rest of Get Born,
"Are You Gonna Be My Girl" is incredibly derivative, yet nonetheless
effective: Think of it as Iggy Pop's "Lust for Life" with better lyrics.
Although the disc's dominant vibe teeters between
Strokes/White
Stripes garage-rock and Stooges-style punk swagger, other tracks --
like standouts "Rollover DJ" and "Take It or Leave It" -- evoke the Stones
and AC/DC (singer Nic Cester smokes a lot of cigarettes -- and
sounds like it). Jaded listeners will discard the band as a laughable
knock-off, even as younger listeners declare Jet the coolest thing in town
and head straight to their parents' basement in search of Led Zeppelin
tour shirts. Nevertheless, there's no denying the disc's unbridled energy,
and those who pine for a return to the booze-fueled days of '70s rock must
find immense pleasure in Get Born's finer moments.
:::
Eric Grossman
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November 28, 2003
Travis: 12 Memories
Sony, 2003
Rating: 2.7
Warning! Britpop analogy alert! Travis's 12 Memories makes
Coldplay's
A
Rush of Blood to the Head sound like OK Computer. Now, don't
take that too literally; it's just that any article about or review of
Travis must mention all their Britpop brethren (we'll save
Elbow,
Starsailor and Oasis for another time). Fans
of the Scottish foursome will be disappointed with 12 Memories,
which plays like a wimpy, distant cousin to Good Feeling, the
band's incendiary 1997 debut; gone is the grit and humor of such Britpop
classics like "All I Want to Do is Rock" and "Good Feeling"). And for those
who favor The Man Who, the band's ultra-melodic follow-up, there's
very little here to remind them of such singalong anthems as "Why Does it
Always Rain on Me?," "Turn" or "Driftwood." So is there anything
worthwhile about 12 Memories? Well, with songs like "The Beautiful
Occupation" and "Peace the Fuck Out," it earns the distinction of being
one of the first major-label Britpop discs to discuss the war in Iraq.
(Through his sardonic song titles and all-white suits, frontman Fran Healy
leaves no doubt about which side of the fence he's staked out). Somewhat
surprisingly, the two "protest" tracks are among the disc's strongest,
matching worthy melodies with clever lyrics ("You don't need an invitation
/ to drop in upon a nation"). The other standout track, "Re-Offender,"
comes closest to mirroring the magic of "Why Does it Always Rain on Me?,"
still the band's signature tune. A straightforward look at domestic abuse,
it's the disc's catchiest tune, and a worthy lead single. Unfortunately,
the rest of 12 Memories is utterly forgettable, and far too dull
for a band once known for the cheekiness of tracks like "U-16 Girls."
:::
Eric Grossman
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November 27, 2003
The Handsome Family: Singing Bones
Carrot Top, 2003
Rating: 4.0
On "24-Hour Store," Brett and Rennie Sparks, returning with their sixth
Handsome Family release, imagine supernatural beings occupying the same
space as oblivious late night shoppers. Par for the course for the
husband-wife duo, who've spent their career imagining the fantastic
lurking just outside our peripheral vision. "The Bottomless Hole" is
literally about a man who just has to know how deep his refuse pit goes,
only to tumble endlessly, wondering when (if ever) he'll find out. The
grim mood and countrified sound of Singing Bones doesn't differ
dramatically from the past few Handsome Family albums (though pedal steel
and bowed saw have been added to the mix). Brett Sparks' sonorous baritone
adds unshakable veracity to Rennie's carefully plotted words. The
Albuquerque-based couple has carved a unique niche in the American musical
landscape, and they believe, deeply, in the world extrapolated therein: a
place where multiple planes of reality intersect, myths have
three-dimensional weight, and the night becomes a window into the spectral
houses of all those who've crossed over to the other side.
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November 27, 2003
Sufjan Stevens: Michigan
Asthmatic Kitty/Sounds Familyre, 2003
Rating: 3.8
Sufjan Stevens was born in 1975. He's now 28 and, with the release of
Michigan, the multi-instrumentalist embarks on the ambitious quest to
release an album a year for all 50 united states. Presuming he completes
this project in 2052, with the release of, say, Hawaii, Stevens
will be 77 years old. Can he do it? Certainly. The trick will be whether
he can keep up the same level of emotional heft and familiarity with which
he addresses his home state on the project's first release. If nothing
else, Stevens has created an impassioned love letter to the Great Lake
State. Tackling recession casualties ("Flint," "Oh Detroit, Lift Up Your
Weary Head"), geographic features ("Tahquamenon Falls"), and personal
tales of heartbreak ("Romulus"), Stevens exhibits a keen pop sensibility
as he fleshes out the characteristics and hardships of those living on the
Northern and Southern Peninsulas. Oboes, electric organs, glockenspiels
and sleigh bells decorate the material, and the musical touches make one
pine for an all-instrumental version of the album. Sadly, Stevens is a far
stronger arranger and composer than a lyricist at this point in his
career. While he exhibits moments of artful insight, as with "The Upper
Peninsula" and its examination of a shattered family ("I've seen my wife
in K-mart / In strange ideas, we live apart"), there are far too many
clumsy moments like "Forget loss and perfect avocation / If it drops or
stays in convocation" (from "All Good Naysayers, Speak Up! Or Forever Hold
Your Peace!"). Nonetheless, Michigan is a promising start, and one
looks forward to the lyrical insights Stevens might bring to bear on other
states.
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November 25, 2003
The Beatles: Let It Be... Naked
Capitol, 2003
Rating: 3.5
Imagine Get Back, the Beatles album bridging the chaotic sprawl of
the White Album with their peerless studio achievement Abbey
Road. Imagine Get Back doing just what its title indicates,
harkening to a hungry Liverpool quartet mimicking American rock and blues
standards. Sadly, Get Back never happened. The abortive sessions,
brought on by internal tensions within the band and the folly of allowing
the creative process to be filmed under such a dark cloud, thwarted any
attempt to get back to something resembling the group's early days. After
all the success, excess, and global expectations to elevate basic rock to
high art each time out, it seems almost naïve to imagine the Beatles
hoping they could recapture the feeling of the late 1950s. The cynical
antithesis of Get Back is Let It Be, a fractured, hurly
burly collection that never received the band's official stamp of
approval. Let It Be... Naked claims to be the album the band
intended, but it's simply yet another guess at what Get Back
might have sounded like. "Dig It" and "Maggie Mae" have been excised
in favor of "Don't Let Me Down;" Phil Spector's overbaked post-production
tweaking (which came about while the producer was working with John Lennon
on various solo projects) has been scrubbed clean from "Across the
Universe," "The Long and Winding Road" and "I Me Mine." Thankfully,
the wonderful Lennon/McCartney duet "Two of Us" remains. (Unfortunately,
Lennon's cheeky closing line "I hope we passed the audition" missed the
cut.) Let It Be, in both this format and the original, is not so
much an album as a collection of fragments and brilliant solo creations
fighting to be heard above the clamor of a band disintegrating. The casual
fan could do just as well building his own sequence from the 1970
original, Naked and the third Anthology disc. Better yet, we
should all call it a day and simply let it be.
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November 25, 2003
Sun Kil Moon: Ghosts of the Great Highway
Jetset Records, 2003
Rating: 4.0
Businesses, from retail outlets to casual dining restaurants, often change
their facades in order to curtail the perception that they've grown stale
or become complacent. A makeover is a great panacea for jumpstarting
flagging sales or simply recapturing notoriously fickle consumer interest.
Singer-songwriter Mark Kozelek understands this concept. His band Red
House Painters spent the '90s releasing moody, introspective rock albums
that moved a consistently decent number of units. Kozelek produced a few
solo releases as the millennium turned and now brings back the full band
concept with Sun Kil Moon. Red House Painters drummer Anthony Koutsos
joins him, as do American Music Club's Tim Mooney (also on drums) and
former Black Lab Seattle bassist Geoff Stanfield. Basically, the name may
have changed, but the musical bill of fare remains the same: Ghosts of
the Great Highway is propelled by excellent songwriting, rich, heartfelt
vocals, and solid musicianship. "Glenn Tipton" wrestles with everything
from who's the better Judas Priest guitarist (though one can't overlook
the fact that the song's not called "K.K. Downing") to a woman who ran a
donut shop and died unexpectedly. "Carry Me Ohio" explores youthful
memories and forlorn romantic regrets. "Salvador Sanchez" and "Pancho Villa"
are the same song, both about champion boxers who died young: the first
played as a fuzzed-out, low-flying guitar burner, the second emphasizing
understated acoustics and elegant strings. The epic "Duk Koo Kim" (named
after another boxer who died tragically) stands out via Portuguese guitar
and some stylish xylophone work. Tracks like "Last Tide" and "Floating"
shine less brightly, but Ghosts is nonetheless one of Kozelek's
strongest collections, trading off between melancholy soul searchers and
fiery, roughhewn rockers in a balanced but never contrived manner.
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November 24, 2003
The Flaming Lips: Ego Tripping at the Gates of
Hell [EP]
Warner Bros., 2003
Rating: 3.8
Just in time for the holidays, the Flaming Lips return with an EP that
includes four new songs and a trio of fair-to-middling remixes. No one's
going to buy this thirty-minute collection for the modified
Yoshimi tracks: The title song gets the digitized makeover twice.
Jason Bentley's "Ego In Acceleration" version is a chill-out take on the
Lips' more passionate original, while Blow-Up's recasting proves a more
effective, pulse-driven affair that captures the urgency in Wayne Coyne's
voice. Jimmy (Dntel, The Postal Service) Tamborello's
"Do You Realize??," driven by toy piano and Spartan techno beats, falls
flat, especially when compared to Scott Hardkiss' more creative,
cosmically-warped version that appeared earlier this year on the
Fight Test EP. But Ego Tripping isn't just
a rehash EP: It opens with three of the four new cuts, linked by title and
theme to the sun. The dark, piano-based "Assassination Of The Sun" ("Now
this horrible machine churns out pain instead of love") casts the orb as a
menacing, oppressive force beating down on us hapless humans. "I'm A Fly
In A Sunbeam" provides an instrumental bridge, with bright horns breaking
through an overcast electronic mix, leading into the more hopeful "Sunship
Balloons," which follows a pair of lovers taking the titular vessel into
the heart of the sun -- or at the very least, enjoying great sex. On the
hopeful closer "A Change At Christmas (Say It Isn't So)," Coyne sings in a
lower register, but still offers his childlike view of humanity putting
aside its differences and living in harmony. Near the end he asks, "Tell
me I'm not just a dreamer?" Sorry, Wayne: That's exactly what you are, and
Ego Tripping thankfully provides little hint you'll ever wake up
and see the world any differently.
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November 24, 2003
The Books: The Lemon of Pink
Tomlab, 2003
Rating: 4.1
The Books' follow-up to 2002's Thought for Food finds
the collaborative duo of Paul de Jong and Nick Zammuto further refining
their collage-structured, electro-acoustic aesthetic. Where Thought for
Food was created over a long period of time, with the duo working from
different locations, The Lemon of Pink came together within months
under one roof. The end result is, not surprisingly, far more cohesive.
The appropriate tick-tock percussive rhythm of "Take Time" merges
seamlessly with the cuckoo clock samples woven into "Don't Even Sing About
It." Likewise, "S Is For Evrysing" closes with a fractured selection from
the Lord's Prayer that ties in nicely with the phonetic lessons sampled on
the brief "Explanation Mark." Other highlights include the Gandhi-sampling
"There Is No There" and the opening title track. While The Lemon of
Pink might not sport individual tracks as strong as Thought's
"Enjoy Your Worries, You May Never Have Them Again" or "All Bad Ends All,"
it's nonetheless a stronger effort overall, revealing a band growing in
confidence with the application of its ideas.
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November 06, 2003
Sarah McLachlan: Afterglow
Arista, 2003
Rating: 3.5
Canadian singer-songwriter Sarah McLachlan has hardly been coasting since
her last studio album, 1997's multiplatinum Surfacing. She married
her drummer, Ashwin Sood; spearheaded the female-empowered alt-rock
festival Lilith Fair; lost her mother to cancer, and had her first child.
Afterglow, then, seems an apt title, given the hectic jumble of
triumphant and tragic events over the past six years. And McLachlan
certainly appears in a reflective mood, commenting on post-9-11 global
strife ("World on Fire," with its earnest plea "Stay close to me while the
sky is falling") and yearning for the comfort of a loved one in the face
of personal tragedy ("Push"). Longtime producer Pierre Marchand does his
usual buff-and-polish routine on these mostly subdued piano-based
compositions, and while there's nothing approaching the memorable hook of
Solace's "Into the Fire" or the stalking menace underlying
Fumbling Towards Ecstasy's "Possession," Afterglow stays true
to McLachlan's impeccably designed songcraft and keen sense of melody.
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November 05, 2003
Blue Epic: Love & Hate [EP]
Empathic/TVT, 2003
Rating: 3.0
Birmingham, Alabama's Blue Epic surges with post-adolescent yearning on
its debut EP Love & Hate, and that longing is for more than the
usual peace, love and understanding. Over the course of the disc's five
tracks, the earnest quartet strains to find a place for itself in the
great stylistic ether, doggedly affecting an indie-rock stance belied by
broad, mainstream-courting gestures. That's another thing Blue Epic yearns
desperately for: acceptance. Jangly guitars are stacked like cordwood;
melodies waver between verbose emoting and anthemic accessibility. And
throughout, singer Phillip Roberson swings for the radio-friendly fences
with a vocal timbre that strives to favorably recall Jeff Buckley. This
approach makes for decent listening on the rocking "Time to Borrow" and
the bracing "Underwater" (the EP's standout), which resonates with traces
of James and Gene Loves Jezebel (traces of layered New Wave also echo
throughout "Roses") . It works less well on a flinch-inducing cover of
Neil Young's "A Man Needs a Maid," which sounds like
Starsailor
or Remy Zero trying to assert some as yet-unearned rock muscle. Love &
Hate is about as original as its title suggests. But if its scrabble
for identity lacks inspiration, its glossy finish sparkles enough to
suggest that the brass ring of mainstream success isn't entirely out of
this young band's reach.
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November 05, 2003
The Dismemberment Plan: A People's History of The
Dismemberment Plan
DeSoto, 2003
Rating: 3.0
The idea of a remix compilation/competition, in which members of the
now-defunct Dismemberment Plan offer the band's music for friends and fans
to deconstruct and rework, sounds like a fantastic concept. The downside
is that, no matter which entries get picked for inclusion on A People's
History of The Dismemberment Plan, it's virtually impossible to offer
a consistent, smooth-flowing reinterpretation of the D.C. quartet's
already eclectic and exuberantly experimental pop-rock vision. If this was
Dntel's History of The Dismemberment Plan, for example, with Jimmy
Tamborello bringing in guest artists to help him rework the Plan's
catalogue, it could be judged as a unified whole. The best one can do with
A People's History is select the most interesting or creative
remixes, and there are a few. Cynyc's "Following Through" stretches out
the Change track,
adding an invigorating breakbeat behind singer Travis Morrison's elongated
vocals. Erik Gundel seamlessly inserts the acoustic guitar part from "The
Faces "Ooh La La" behind the Plan’s “Superpowers," taking an already
wistful song and making it even more poignant. Unfortunately, however,
there are more duds here than triumphs. The reworking of "Time Bomb" by
ASCDI lamely overemphasizes the ticking beat from the original, and
Deadverse's menacing, unnecessarily heavy-handed "Automatic" sounds like a
reject from a failed
Massive
Attack record. A People's History is more a novelty than an
essential addition to the Dismemberment Plan legacy. Hopefully a
collection of rarities and unreleased material will be forthcoming, adding
a proper exclamation point to the tale of one of the most exciting and
innovative bands of the '90s.
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November 04, 2003
Guided by Voices: Best of Guided by Voices: Human
Amusement at Hourly Rates
Matador, 2003
Rating: 4.3
Want to learn how that Sequence Function works on your CD/MP3 player?
That's easy: Become a Guided by Voices fan and you'll learn that skill as
a simple survival instinct. The band, after all, and specifically leader
Robert Pollard, is notorious for sprinkling masterful pop gems amongst a
collection of semiprecious stones. The idea, then, of a generous,
budget-priced, 32-track compilation that collects nothing but the band's
peak singles seems custom-fit to the label-hopping indie-rock veterans'
mixed bag of a catalogue. The problem lies in figuring out which 32
songs to choose from. The mid-'90s peak collaborations of Pollard and
onetime guitarist Tobin Sprout (Bee Thousand and Alien Lanes)
are most heavily represented, with four tracks each. But even that seems a
few tracks too sparse. Sure, essential efforts like "Tractor Rape Chain" and
"Hit" are here, but whose skewed rationale excised "Gold Star for Robot
Boy" and "Weed King" from the final mix? Especially when 1999's
career low point Do the Collapse gets two selections ("Surgical
Focus," fair enough, but who felt the insipid "Things I Will Keep" had to
be represented?). Work dating back to 1987's Devil Between My Toes
reveals what a keen ear Pollard possessed, even then, for melody, despite
their less-than-pristine recording fidelity. For diehards, there's the
Hardcore UFOs box set (which includes this disc, only with the tracks
running in chronological order). Casual fans and the more
cost-conscious, however, will be (mostly) satisfied with this
appropriately off-kilter,
near-definitive overview.
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November 04, 2003
Aesop Rock: Bazooka Tooth
Definitive Jux, 2003
Rating: 4.1
In interviews, New Yorker Ian Bravitz claims the title for his latest
Aesop Rock album, Bazooka Tooth, is exactly what it describes: a
person with a molar-mounted cannon, ready to "blow shit up." And while
many listeners prefer to dig deep for additional meaning in Bravitz's
complex, fifty-cent worded, historical name-checking art raps than the
artist ever intended, there is indeed more to Bazooka Tooth than
its goofy title image. Bravitz's greatest strength is his wildly
imaginative, at times willfully outlandish wordplay; he's simply the Human
Thesaurus of modern rappers. And he's usually got a beef, as evidenced by
the gritty slice-of-life narrative "6B Panorama" from 2000's Float,
and essentially every track on 2001's breakout Labor Days. In this
case, Bazooka Tooth is Bravitz's reaction to the world of celebrity
and fame (of which he’s achieved a modest, but still appreciable, degree).
"Easy" opens with "Cameras or guns / One of y'all's gonna shoot me to
death," while "Limelighter" finds Bravitz claiming he's "Out to kill the
video star." By contrast, the sharp, relentless "We're Famous" finds the
artist celebrating his perceived place in the hip-hop hierarchy, taking
pot shots (along with guest
El-P) at less-talented pretenders. Blockhead,
whose inventive, elegant production work complemented Bravitz's
unapologetically gruff delivery in the past, takes a back seat here, and
the beats (mostly by Bravitz himself) are dense, multilayered and
confrontational: a sledgehammer to Blockhead's paint brush. Regardless of
his less than subtle studio technique, Bravitz remains one of the most
resourceful and bracing artists in his field, and that alone merits his
fifth release a solid recommendation.
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November 04, 2003
Peaches: Fatherfucker
Beggars XL, 2003
Rating: 2.0
Fatherfucker, the successor to 2000's The Teaches of Peaches,
inverts the aggressively raunchy energy of its predecessor. Where
Teaches was brash, Fatherfucker is dim; where Teaches
was shocking in its gender-bending, sexually charged language,
Fatherfucker is bland, repetitive and obvious in its attempts to turn
standard conventions upside down. Teaches' opener "Fuck the Pain
Away" had a memorable hook and a danceable beat; Fatherfucker's
icebreaker "I Don't Give a Fuck" merely repeats its title phrase over a
sample of Joan Jett's "Bad Reputation," to less energizing effect. Peaches
just doesn't seem to be having as much fun provoking her listeners this
time out. Which isn't to imply that she isn't having fun, because she
certainly does, as when desiccated proto-punk/ad pitchman Iggy Pop shows
up for the mercifully short "Kick It." (This meeting of pathological
attention-seekers contains the following exchange: Iggy: "I heard you like
kinky shit." Peaches: "That just depends on who I'm with." Iggy: "What is
it, S&M or some kinda toy?" Peaches: "Like you said, search and destroy.")
"I'm the Kinda" trades on the rap couplet "Knockin' you out like Rocky
Balboa / Drown you in a flood deeper than Noah." (Note to Peaches: Noah
built the ark, honey; he wasn't the water.) Fatherfucker is the
sound of an artist either out of fresh ideas, or truly following the
mantra of her opening track. Whatever the case, it appears Peaches used up
her entire lesson plan on her far superior debut.
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November 03, 2003
Thea Gilmore: Avalanche
Compass, 2003
Rating: 3.7
Impressively, English-born singer-songwriter Thea Gilmore, not yet 24, already
has five albums to her credit. Working with producer Nigel Stonier throughout
her still-nascent career, Gilmore has steadily improved her craft with each
successive release. Fortunately for her development, if not pocketbook, there's
been no major breakthrough critical or commercial release derailing her
maturation process; she's been able to grow in relative obscurity, immune from
hyper-scrutinized articles and dating-game tabloid nonsense. Which leads us to
Avalanche, her most polished, least turbulent work to date. There's
nothing here approaching the incendiary power of her 1998 debut Burning
Dorothy, particularly "Militia Sister" ("You fucked your way in / You can
fuck your way out"), or possessing the raw spontaneity of last year's Songs
from the Gutter. "Heads Will Roll," with its Dylan-esque social-commentary
raps ("Absolution.com delivers with a little bit of luck"), or the
anti-commercial "Mainstream" -- these are as riled up as Avalanche gets.
"Rags And Bones," with its quasi-electronic production tics, and the catchy
strum-and-thrush "Have You Heard" shine here, while the bland "Juliet (Keep That
In Mind)" and sedate "Pirate Moon" are particularly uninspired offerings. Where
Gilmore goes from here -- whether she fumbles toward safe, MOR, Sarah McLachlan
fare, or mines emotional wounds with the intensity of Polly Jean Harvey, is
anyone's guess. But Avalanche is far closer to the former, and while
that's not necessarily a bad thing, there's more than enough promise and talent
here to warrant keeping tabs on where Gilmore ventures next.
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October 31, 2003
Ryan Adams: Rock N Roll
Lost Highway, 2003
Rating: 4.0
Rock N Roll (yes, we know it's spelled backwards on the disc, but we
don't feel like indulging), Ryan Adams' fourth official solo release, opens with
the confident "This Is It," a deliberately coarse assault of manic guitar solos
and hook-laden lyrics. It's Adams' approximation of garage rock, and as such, it
betters just about anything his friends in
The Strokes have
committed to date (and makes one wish for Adams' rumored song-for-song
rerecording of Is This It). Rather than stay in one
vein, however, Adams runs through a variety of trends, as he did with '70s rock
and soul on 2001's Gold.
He out-Golds Gold's style-hopping frenzy by far, however, spanning
decades, continents and different modes of the difficult-to-pin-down beast
called Rock. It's an undeniably audacious display, like the music geek with the
awesome vinyl collection showing off the vastness and depth of his music
knowledge in hopes of scoring with the hot chick. "Shallow" pays a debt to '90s
Brit rock; "1974" is also British, but of the sleazier,'70s Stonesy variety. The
slick, slippery "So Alive" finds Adams successfully utilizing a higher register
'80s croon (think Ultravox as fronted by a less morose Morrissey), while
Paul
Westerberg fans will appreciate the gritty "Do Miss America." Adams even apes
himself (circa Whiskeytown) with the lonesome, countryish "Wish You Were Here."
Though Rock N Roll contains 14 Adams originals, it’s essentially a
stylistic covers record, and a damn fine one at that. Those hoping to hear the
more sensitive, mopey, and artistic side of Adams will have to content
themselves with the bifurcated follow-up
Love Is Hell.
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October 31, 2003
Joe Henry: Tiny Voices
Anti-, 2003
Rating: 3.8
Listening to Joe Henry's Tiny Voices is like being in a smoky jazz club
well past midnight, stuck with a brokenhearted drunk lamenting what went wrong
with his life. Joe Henry is the drunk, and the house band backing him just
happens to contain some of the finest players in the game (percussionist Jay
Bellerose, guitarist Chris Bruce, Don Byron on clarinet and sax, bassist
Jennifer Condos, trumpeter Ron Miles, and pianists Dave Palmer and Patrick
Warren). Tiny Voices is a heavier sounding album than 2001's Scar,
as Henry delves even deeper into the urban mythology of the wasted, emotionally
crippled yet brilliantly gifted jazz vocalist. The main problem is that unlike,
say, Billie Holiday, Joe Henry is more a faithful mimic than the genuine
article. His suffering is speckled with all the right detail, but the pain never
feels authentic so much as scrupulously studied and perfectly replicated. "I
remember when love was something I craved / But I settled for less and the
comfort it gave," he confesses on the slow, meditative "Animal Skin." Similar
grim proclamations about coming up just short in the game of love and life
abound. On the weary, resigned "Flag," Henry states "Love's just a mirror for a
thief," and opines "Life is for the living," on the smooth, warm "Flesh and
Blood." Throughout, Henry's backing band bristles and shines, even during the
multitude of subdued downturns. The challenge with Tiny Voices is finding
the stamina to slog through innumerable hangdog tales, while hoping Henry takes
a bathroom break and the band returns for a wordlessly exquisite encore.
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October 30, 2003
Constantines: Shine a Light
Sub Pop, 2003
Rating: 3.5
Buzz-building Canadian rock quintet The Constantines follow-up their modestly
distributed 2001 self-titled debut with the more musically adventurous, if still
lyrically average, Shine a Light. The disc can be approximately dissected
thusly: a more fuzz-rock, heavy-distortion first half, and a straight-ahead,
classic-rocking second side. Vocalist Bry Webb's husky growl ideally suits the
forceful rhythms and odd time signatures the band explores on "Insectivora" and
the title track. At times, the band's easy-out rhyme schemes detract from the
inventive sound ("Nighttime/Anytime (It's Alright)" with its chorus of the same,
and "Summertime is our time" from "Scoundrel Babes"). The closing "Sub-Domestic"
finds Webb in sing-speak mode over a stripped-down, marching drumbeat and
crunchy bass, and shows off the Constantines' ability to turn down the volume
and still execute at a compelling level. Though trite lyrics too often undermine
strong instrumentation, Shine a Light is a promising sophomore effort
from a group that clearly has the chops to blaze even brighter -- providing
overexposure doesn't burn them out first.
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October 29, 2003
Do Make Say Think: Winter Hymn Country Hymn Secret Hymn
Constellation, 2003
Rating: 4.1
While not exactly nine songs of unbridled joy divided into three movements as
the title indicates, Toronto sextet Do Make Say Think (DMST) offers its most
exuberantly loud and celebratory release thus far. Veering closer to labelmates
Godspeed You! Black Emperor's
patented quiet/loud/even louder territory (sans the politically charged
screeds), DMST manages to retain its dub/jazzy identity amidst all the crashing
excess and bombast. "Auberge Le Mouton Noir" is a particularly strong showcase
of tight guitar-bass-percussion interplay, while the intricate "Ontario Plates"
shifts from moody jazz into brighter sonic territory, with swaggering horns and
ferociously clanging cymbals. "Horns Of A Rabbit" melds backwards guitars with
Dave Mitchell’s and James Payment’s violent percussion, with Charles Spearin’s
steady bass tying the whole thing together. The fleeting "It's Gonna Rain,"
complete with drizzly effects, doesn't have much to contribute, and the
sad-horned lament, "107 Reasons Why" offers the sole contradiction to the
overall mood and title declaration. Winter Hymn is one of the year's
memorable, noteworthy listens, and DMST's finest effort overall, as the group
finally lives up to the all action verbs in its blustery moniker.
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October 29, 2003
Dressy Bessy: Dressy Bessy
Kindercore, 2003
Rating: 3.8
Is Dressy Bessy still Dressy Bessy when the Denver, Colorado quartet's lyrical
content moves beyond bubblegum anthems and the guitars ring a little more
discordantly? Is this the same band, preciously named after a popular doll,
whose music elicits thoughts of pizza parties, sleepovers and kids dancing
around a cheap plastic record player spinning old 45s? Well, the easy answer is,
yes, of course it is. We still hear Tammy Ealom's familiar, sprightly vocals,
guitarist John Hill's sharp hooks and the crisp rhythm section of bassist Rob
Greene and drummer Darren Albert. And on cuts like the short, peppy "New Song
(From Me to You)" and exuberantly up-tempo "Better Luck," there's no doubt
Dressy Bessy hasn't completely abandoned its love of '60s psychedelic pop, or
its debt to '80s twee-pop pioneers Talulah Gosh. But there's a definite sense of
regret in Ealom's voice on "This May Hurt (A Little)," which concerns two
friends drifting apart, and Hill's surprisingly use of angular, inharmonious
chords on "Georgie Blue," indicating a more mature, creatively restless group.
"Girl, You Shout!" which sounds like a fun girl-rock call-to-arms, contains the
biting line "It's not the first time in your life / You'll find that your mother
/ she's let you down," while "Hey May" finds Ealom asking, "What are you going
to do / When the world turns in on you?" Dressy Bessy's darkest record yet is
also its strongest, if only because there's a little more grit and tears mixed
into the familiar, rapidly-approaching-stale sunshine-and-happiness mix.
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October 29, 2003
Nina Nastasia: Run to Ruin
Touch & Go, 2003
Rating: 4.2
Run to Ruin, singer-songwriter Nina Nastasia's latest release, contains
half as many songs, and runs a quarter of an hour less, than last year's
critically celebrated The Blackened Air. But you're
not likely to hear a weightier thirty-minute album. Run to Ruin is a
spaciously played, elegant creation in which every note counts. Recorded live
and containing very little post-production polish from producer Steve Albini,
Ruin mines similar themes of loss, betrayal, and the generally gloomy
disposition that colored Blackened Air, but the mood here is more urbane
than Blackened Air's countrified feel: there's no footloose "All for
You." Rather, Nastasia, backed by dramatic strings and doom-hearkening
percussion, explores the burden of kept secrets ("We Never Talked"),
irreconcilably strained relationships ("You Her and Me") and the nakedly honest
observations of a performing artist ("Superstar"). What keeps Nastasia from
succumbing to grotesque melodrama is the razor-like incisiveness she brings to
her lyrics -- the lost souls exhibited here are not mere caricatures. Run to
Ruin is a window into a world filled with regret, madness and suicide, and
its power comes from Nastasia never once pandering to her audience. This is one
artist who emphatically means every carefully chosen word she utters.
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October 28, 2003
Yo La Tengo: Today Is the Day [EP]
Matador, 2003
Rating: 4.2
Yo La Tengo gets symmetry. The indie-rock trio opens Today Is the Day
with a revamped, considerably revved-up version of the title track that appeared
earlier this year on
Summer Sun; later, it fittingly ends this six-song collection with a
reworking of "Cherry Chapstick" (from And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside
Out), transforming it from an upbeat winding guitar ditty into a winsome,
slow-plucked dirge. In between, the venerated critical darlings offer outtakes
from Summer Sun and the obligatory cover song. "Outsmartener" recalls
some of the freer compositions that defined the trio's experimental Genius +
Love = Yo La Tengo. "Styles of the Times" is a grinding rocker fueled by Ira
Kaplan's punk affectations, while the instrumental "Dr. Crash" reflects the
trio's groovier moments, courtesy of deep bass and penetrating guitar lines.
Fans of the all covers Fakebook should enjoy Georgia Hubley's delicate,
acoustic interpretation of folk legend Bert Jansch's "Needle of Death," even if
she doesn't deviate too far from the original. In short, Today is the Day
covers a lot of stylistic ground, and does so, impressively, in less than
twenty-five minutes. As such, this handsomely eclectic collection merits
inclusion as an essential addition to Yo La Tengo's richly diverse catalogue.
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October 28, 2003
Stereolab: Instant 0 in the Universe [EP]
Elektra/Asylum, 2003
Rating: 3.8
Having successfully synthesized bossa nova, electronica, French pop and
space-age lounge influences into a singular, brilliantly creative mélange with
1996’s Emperor Tomato Ketchup, Stereolab’s greatest challenge lay in
figuring out what to do next. The band's post-Ketchup work has veered
between refining its patented pop-gumbo template (Dots and Loops) and a
tendency toward indulgent overkill (Cobra and Phases Group Play Voltage in
the Milky Night). In short, the second half of Stereolab's career has been
dogged by the nagging question: Where does the band go from here? Instant 0
in the Universe offers a glimpse of the answer. It's the band's first
release since the tragic death of singer Mary Hansen last year, but, rather than
the thud of a band in mourning, Instant 0 finds Stereolab upbeat and
sounding more vibrant than it has in years. From the bright, bouncy "...Sudden
Stars" to the insistent, pumping beat powering "Mass Riff," it's obvious that
Stereolab has recommitted itself to exploring the intricacies of a sound it's
mastered to the point of redundancy from a fresh, inviting perceptive. While
there's certainly nothing remotely groundbreaking here, the music nonetheless
sounds substantive and alive. One would be hard-pressed to find a better tribute
to a fallen member than that.
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October 28, 2003
Throwing Muses: Throwing Muses
4AD, 2003
Rating: 4.0
"I'm so mad I could spit," Kristin Hersh rails on “Solar Dip,” from Throwing
Muses' self-titled reunion album, and her anger is welcome indeed. It's a
pleasant surprise to hear just how vital and intense the Muses sound after such
a long layoff (the group disbanded following 1996's Limbo, with Hersh
devoting more time to her solo career and growing family).
Bassist Bernard Georges and drummer David Narcizo provide an urgent, wildly
tempo-shifting rhythm section that perfectly complements Hersh's jagged,
idiosyncratic guitar style and fiery vocal delivery. Toss in backing vocals (on
select tracks) by long-departed original member Tanya
Donelly, and Throwing Muses, the 2003 incarnation, sounds as close as it
ever has to the pre-House Tornado lineup some sixteen years back. The
key, obviously, is singer-songwriter Hersh, and her uncanny ability to transmute
mundane domestic details about late night visits to Wal-Mart and arguments with
her husband into combustible, elementally charged touchstones of sonic therapy.
"You quit making mistakes / I might not leave / You quit making mistakes / I
might just stay," she threatens on "Speed and Sleep," and there's something in
the way she couches the words that indicates this woman is deadly serious. Such
moments make this the most energetic Muses record since the band's initial
self-titled debut, from the rising fury of "Mercury" to the rocking closer
"Flying," in which Hersh lays out what one imagines could be her attitude toward
her bandmates: "This place is fascinating when you're here / But when you're
not, it's not / But if I'd known leaving every home would get me here / I
would've gone sooner." Throwing Muses, and the music world at large, are the
better for her having decided to stick around.
:::
Laurence Station
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October 28, 2003
Clearlake: Cedars
Domino, 2003
Rating: 3.3
On Cedars, British rock quartet Clearlake retains the theatrically dour outlook of
its debut, Lido, bringing in ex-Cocteau Twins bassist Simon Raymonde as
producer to conjure a warmer, friendlier sound. Thus, a slate of tracks with
glum lyrics dwarfed by anthemic, big-dumb power chords. "Wonder If the Snow Will
Settle" offers a steady yet effectively theatrical drum beat to offset the
pensive cynicism felt by singer Jason Pegg. Elsewhere, sound and lyrics
reconcile nicely on "Just Off the Coast," its rough, bluesy riff meshing tightly
with Pegg's tale of distance and hoped-for reconciliation. Unfortunately, when
Clearlake misses the mark, it does so widely. "It's All Too Much" offers
second-rate, Pablo Honey-period
Radiohead
histrionics while "Treat Yourself With Kindness" traffics in over-baked
melodrama, which betrays the album's resolutely downbeat mood. Cedars is
the sound of a young band still struggling to figure out what it wants to be
and, more importantly, how such an identity will ultimately come to define its
sound. There's enough promise exhibited here to warrant future attention; call
it an endorsement of Clearlake's heretofore-nonexistent breakthrough release.
:::
Laurence Station
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October 28, 2003
Dido: Life For Rent
Arista, 2003
Rating: 2.5
Yawn. After a few spins of Life For Rent, Dido's follow-up to her
multi-platinum 1999 debut No Angel, it becomes clear that no new ground's
being broken. Worse, the London beauty has left behind the trip-hop effects that
made her previous disc such a pleasant surprise, in favor of more
straightforward story-songs. Lacking its predecessor's edgy tone, Life For
Rent offers up one bland, polite tune after another, with such Lillith-ian
titles as "Don't Leave Home" and "This Land is Mine." The melodic opener "White
Flag," the CD's strongest tune (as well as-surprise-the lead single), comes
closest to re-creating the magic of "Here With Me," the debut single that
propelled Dido's unexpected success. It's followed by "Stoned," a good
four-minute song trapped in an exhaustive six-minute track (why the one-minute
instrumental intro?). Still, the two opening tracks don't make up for such
rubbish as "Mary's in India," in which Dido attempts to explain how she stole
her friend's man, but ends up coming off as an excruciatingly self-indulgent
storyteller. Fans of Dido's clear and distinctive voice won't be disappointed
(that, at least, remains as unmistakable as ever). But they're not likely to be
thrilled, either.
:::
Eric Grossman
Top
October 28, 2003
Sting: Sacred Love
A&M, 2003
Rating: 3.5
Cynics will view Sacred Love, Sting's first collection of new material
since 1999's Brand New Day, as another attempt to appeal to the MOR crowd
by using a slew of guest artists in order to appear worldly and soulful.
Conversely, more generous listeners will applaud his continued use of guest
artists to produce the sort of worldly, soulful music that's rarely heard on
Adult Contemporary radio anymore. Anyway you slice it, Sacred Love, with
its sitar solos ("The Book of My Life"), African grooves ("Never Coming Home"),
and heavy subject matter -- the current war on terrorism is discussed on several
tracks -- is Sting's most adventurous disc as a solo artist. Mary J. Blige is
wisely enlisted on the gospel foray "Whenever I Say Your Name." Lead single
"Send Your Love"'s Moroccan picks up where "Desert Rose," Brand New Day's
wildly successful single (and the theme for a much-ridiculed Jaguar commercial),
left off, and "This War" comes out of nowhere to deliver some genuine,
nerve-rattling rock (thanks mostly to Dominic Miller's guitar). All of which is
wrapped up in pristine engineering (the album was produced in 5.1 Surround
Sound), making Sacred Love as much of a headphone record as it is a
hopeful launching pad for slick Top 40 hits.
:::
Eric Grossman
Top
October 24, 2003
Van Morrison: What's Wrong With This Picture?
Blue Note, 2003
Rating: 4.1
In the title track of "What's Wrong With This Picture?," Van Morrison offers an
easygoing dismissal of those who expect him to be the same restlessly questing,
blue-eyed Celtic troubadour of old. Claiming to have "left all that jive
behind," he then proceeds to work out a cracking jazz and blues jones that moves
effortlessly from that leisurely-paced opener to the lively "Whinin Boy Moan"
and the rambling, slow-poured, "Too Many Myths." "Meaning Of Loneliness," the
album's highlight, finds Morrison skillfully name-checking philosophical
heavyweights Sartre, Camus, Nietzsche and Hesse without making it sound
pretentious, unlike his shout-out to William Blake on Veedon Fleece. How
does he do this? Mainly because he's older and wiser now, claiming "if you think
too deeply you're gonna end up in distress," and pointedly noting "fame and
fortune never brought anyone happiness." Van Morrison, mere mortal, may try a
tad too hard to distance himself from Van Morrison, larger-than-life music
legend ("Just because they call me a celebrity / That does not make it true /
Because I don't believe in the myth, people / So why should you?"). Nonetheless,
it's nice to see that the fire still burns within this veteran performer's
belly. This is one picture Morrison can proudly hang beside his best work.
:::
Laurence Station
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October 23, 2003
Neil Young & Crazy Horse: Greendale
Reprise, 2003
Rating: 2.4
What is there to say about Greendale, Neil Young's ambitious concept
album and film project? Just two things: One, it's better than
Are You
Passionate? And two, unless you're a diehard fan of Young's more rambling,
adventurous material, you should probably skip it. Concept pieces are always a
crapshoot, and when they work, it's usually because of the unique ferocity of
their ideas, or the risk-taking scope of the music. On the former count,
Greendale certainly has plenty of ferocity, but it's hardly distinctive:
Young's nomadic narrative requires its own Cliffs Notes, and the lack of
cohesion or focus (which Young pretty much cops to in the liner notes) give the
record less heft than the irate rambling of your neighborhood curmudgeon. Which
wouldn't be as critical if Greendale had more to offer on the latter
point. Hail To
The Thief, however, this ain't. Heck, it's not even Trans. Having
ill-advisedly gone for a one-guitar approach, Young all but neuters the
trademarked ragged glory of Crazy Horse, whose rhythm section gamely trudges
along behind him through a series of numbingly similar shuffles, the most
grating of which ("Double E") is further hobbled by a singular lack of melody.
For a brief, shining moment toward the middle, the unexpectedly poignant
"Bandit" offers a glimmer of hope, a ray of light through the gristly murk. But
Greendale ends much as it begins, with a shambling gait through a thorny,
one-dimensional landscape devoid of distinction.
:::
Kevin Forest Moreau
Top
October 23, 2003
Basement Jaxx: Kish Kash
Astralwerks, 2003
Rating: 4.0
With Kish Kash, Brixton, South London duo Simon Ratcliffe and Felix
Buxton mostly eschew the relentlessly pumping 4/4 beats and Prince-worshipping
shenanigans that colored their 1999 debut Remedy, as well as 2000'a
attention-getting follow-up Rooty. Kish Kash is a downbeat,
surprisingly ruminative affair, less concerned with dance-floor breakouts than
the inevitable post-party comedown. The BellRays' Lisa Kekaula sets the tone
early on the opening "Good Luck": "Tell me, is life just a playground?" "Lucky
Star" features an audacious collision of Dizzee Rascal's rapid-rap delivery and
Bulgarian strings and more familiar skittering House beats, but even here the
lyrics speak to just about anyplace save the club: "I was born in the court of
pocketless / I want to stand judge to put money on trial." "Supersonic,"
spotlighting 65-year-old singer Totlyn Jackson, is the closest Basement Jaxx
comes to its past efforts: manic, unpredictable and loose, it energizes the
entire set. Less successful is "Plug It In", in which J.C. (N'Sync) Chasez's
feather
light, falsetto vocals fall flat against the frantic, rave-like backdrop.
Contrasted against those numbers, "Living Room" and the mellow
Meshell
Ndegeocello closer "Feels Like Home" only reinforce the duo's retreat from
the disco -- a brief respite, or maybe a deeper commentary on a scene that's
grown stale since their last night out.
:::
Laurence Station
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October 23, 2003
The Shins: Chutes Too Narrow
Sub Pop, 2003
Rating: 3.8
The Shins' eagerly awaited second release finds them setting a darker tone than
that of their 2001 cult-hit debut, Oh, Inverted World.
Maybe the moodier, less-upbeat vibe has something to do with the band's move
from the drier, sunnier climes of Albuquerque, New Mexico, to the colder,
wetter, alt-rock haven-of-the-moment Portland, Oregon. Regardless, Chutes
finds guitarist/vocalist James Mercer less concerned with crafting the great
hooks that defined Inverted ("Caring Is Creepy," "New Slang"), and more
obsessed with interior drama ("We shared some information we might not recover
from") and the bleak state of the world ("I don't look back much as a rule / And
all this way before murder was cool"). Other than the winding guitar peals and
lively rhythm that powers "Kissing the Lipless," Chutes' strongest
moments are pensive and understated. The cautionary, reflective "Young Pilgrims"
ties Mercer's words to an appropriately subdued pluck-and-strum arrangement,
while "Gone For Good" relies on restrained pedal steel and a high-lonesome twang
to carry off its tale of loss and regret. "Turn a Square," a generic, bouncing
pop-rock number, overwhelms Mercer's clever, if obtuse, wordplay ("I react like
it's 1805 / Swim to the poles just to find the right satellite"); it's the
sole dud. Contrary to expectations, Chutes Too Narrow proves the Shins
have more on their minds than singing the perfect harmony or writing the
ultimate couplet, and it's that deeper sense of introspection that makes it a
keeper.
:::
Laurence Station
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October 19, 2003
Cowboy Mouth: Uh-Oh
33rd Street, 2003
Rating: 3.5
Fred LeBlanc, drummer and most visible front man for the New Orleans-based MOR
roots-rock barnstormer Cowboy Mouth, has an undeniable knack for muscular,
singalong melodies. On Uh-Oh, however, those hooks prop up brittle
foundations patched-and-painted with oddly employed trip-hop trimmings. After a
jarringly out-of-place opening cover of "Tomorrow Never Knows," drenched in
floating vocals and self-consciously Cocteau Twins-lite instrumentation, LeBlanc
delivers a trio of hard-hitting testaments to his way with a chorus:
"Disconnected" and "Tell the Girl" make full use of his barreling baritone, and
the sub-two-minute "Friends" skates by on punk-pop intensity and a see-sawing,
pogo-worthy lyric structure. But things fall apart; the center cannot hold. The
title track falters on dippy "falling in love" sentiment, compounded by
LeBlanc's tendency to wallow in frat-boy humor and fifth-grade innuendo. And "So
Much the Better," the similarly titled "Better" and the too-eager "Senseless"
fail to register an impression after they're done. LeBlanc's a relentless
entertainer, genetically incapable of reining in his Big Rock instincts, but
here they work against him, as well as the rest of the band. Guitarists Paul
Sanchez and John Thomas Griffith, each capable singers and songwriters in their
own right, contribute only one tune apiece (Griffith's earnest, power ballad
"Can't Stay Here" and Sanchez's amiable lost-love lament "Invincible), and each
is a textbook lesson in its writer's strengths. Whether their limited face time
is due to LeBlanc's fevered front man zeal, a mounting sense of torpor or both
is hard to tell. In the end, the album's cover outlines the possible reasons for
the disc's phoned-in feel. A cute-as-a-button tyke, mouth wide open, bashing a
drumkit, symbolizes LeBlanc's overpowering enfant terrible persona. More
tellingly, the band logo suggests an odom |