more odds and ends... the 90s
Artists reviewed on this page:
A Very Special Christmas Live - BWP - Beck -
Black Box - Boss -
Doyle Bramhall II - Toni Braxton -
The Breeders - Chuck Brodsky - Jeff Buckley - Bush - Busta Rhymes -
The Charlatans - Chef Aid: The South Park Album - Children Of Bodom -
- Cibo Matto - Cradle Of Filth -
Sheryl Crow - Dark Tranquility - Dez Dickerson -
Ani DiFranco - Celine Dion - Jermaine Dupri - Eminem -
En Vogue - For Real -
Fountains Of Wayne -
Grace Of My Heart Soundtrack - Grant Lee Buffalo - Green Day - Juliana Hatfield -
Tim Hawkes -
Helium -
Lauryn Hill - Hole -
The Honeydogs - In Flames - In From The Storm -
Infectious Grooves -
Inner City Blues: The Music Of Marvin Gaye - Joi -
Judgment Night Soundtrack - Lacuna Coil - Phoebe Legere - Lil Wayne -
Machine Head - Maxwell -
Sarah McLachlan - Natalie Merchant - Alanis Morissette - Morphine - Mos Def -
Music From... Living Single -
Music From And Inspired By The Hit TV Show The PJs -
Me'Shell Ndegéocello - Nicole -
Nicole Renée -
Oasis - Outkast - Pain Of Salvation -
Pavement - Liz Phair - Playa -
Porcupine Tree - Psycho Delicate - Rachid -
Rage Against The Machine - Toshi Reagon - Suzanne Rhatigan -
Ride - Seal - 702 - Shadows Fall - Shithook - Silverchair -
Sing Hollies In Reverse -
Spin Doctors - Spirit Of '73: Rock For Choice -
Matthew Sweet - Sweetbox -
Justin Timberlake - The Tonewelders -
Tribe 8 - Uncle Tom -
Waiting To Exhale Soundtrack -
Weed Inc. - Laura Wolfe
This section includes 90s artists we're still getting to know, or acts that are so new they only have one or two records. Plus a few movie soundtracks.
If you're wondering, A Tribe Called Quest, Arch Enemy, Babes In Toyland, Adrian Belew, Babyface, Erykah Badu, Bikini Kill, Mary J. Blige,
Buckethead,
Cracker, D'Angelo, Da Brat, Des'ree, Missy Elliott, Ginuwine, PJ Harvey,
Lunachicks, Masters At Work, Material Issue, Opeth, the Posies,
7 Year Bitch, Sleater-Kinney, Jill Sobule,
Soul Asylum, Angie Stone, Timbaland & Magoo,
Tony Toni Toné, Two Nice Girls, Paul Westerberg, Wu-Tang Clan and Yo Yo
now have new pages of their own.
And we've moved the Bamboozled Soundtrack,
Go-rin-no-sho,
Plastic Soul,
Pyramids Of Giza,
Jill Scott and The Showgoats to our new
00's Odds and Ends page.
Enjoy... (DBW)
 Various, A Very Special Christmas Live (1999)
An all-star concert recorded in Washington DC, one of a series of benefits for the Special Olympics. Since most of the obvious Yuletide
standards had turned up on earlier Very Special albums, the track list leans heavily on Fifties and Sixties rockers ("Rockin'
Round The Christmas Tree," sung by Mary J. Blige with a casual authority that blows the rest of the vocalists away).
But there's a fair amount of variety: Vanessa Williams delivers a respectable nightclub jazz take on "What Child Is This?";
Run-DMC serves up their "Christmas In Hollis" (originally written for a previous benefit album).
Eric Clapton sticks to the blues, singing Sonny Thompson's "Christmas Tears" and donating predictable leads to
John Popper ("Christmas Blues"), Sheryl Crow ("Merry Christmas Baby") and Tracy Chapman (the decidedly secular "Give Me One Reason" - she also gives a moving performance of "O Holy Night").
Jon Bon Jovi solidifies his claim to the throne of Dean Martin with MOR takes on two similarly-named tunes, "Please Come Home For Christmas" and Phil Spector's
"Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)."
And of course everyone comes back for the singalong finale, "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town."
Sort of a Christmas album for people who don't like Christmas albums, and since I'm one of those people, I shouldn't be too critical:
all the performances are tossoffs, but not unenjoyable, the money goes to a good cause, etc. etc. Just don't expect me to be enthusiastic.
(DBW)
 BWP, The Bytches (1991)
In the early 90s, before Lil' Kim and Foxy Brown, the epic confrontation was waged between self-exploiting male-pleasing hip hop
pseudo-feminism and self-exploiting male-bashing hip hop pseudo-feminism. (Hint: the male-pleasing side won.)
Both sides used variations of NWA's name: HWA (Hoes With Attitude) were the nearly-naked, down-4-whateva male fantasy (light-skinned,
natch), while BWP (Bitches With Problems) were the casually-dressed, cynical, horny but potentially castrating male nightmare. While neither
act had rhyming skills or production savvy,
BWP managed to score a hit of sorts with the overly blatant "Two Minute Brother" (similar in approach though not as catchy as 20 Fingers' "Short
Dick Man"). This album contains that tune and lots more of the same: "Fuck A Brother," "Is The Pussy Still Good?," ad nauseum. If you've
heard the vocabulary before, there's nothing particularly shocking here, and shock value is clearly what lead rapper Lyndah, second
fiddle Tanisha Michelle and producer Mark Sexx were going for ("Shit Popper"). Sexx and Lyndah wrote all the material (except for some
samples), and it's dreadfully boring: unvarying keyboard and drum loops behind stilted, unoriginal rhymes.
Since Lyndah and Sexx see feminism as just women stepping
into the male role - dominating instead of being dominated - the avowedly pro-woman numbers like "No Means No" come off as absurd,
the anti-woman songs ("Cotex") are appalling, and all the "brothas ain't shit"-type songs are just sad. I may have rated this one too high.
(DBW)
 Beck, Odelay (1996)
The record which made Beck's rep as current alt-rock deity. He
produced with The Dust Brothers, who reuse
their Beastie Boys schtick of piling on so many samples and shifting
gears so frequently you won't notice there's no depth to the material.
Many of the cuts follow the same pattern: obvious rock riff stated on
(a) electric keyboard ("High 5") or (b) acoustic guitar doubled on fuzz
electric ("Devil's Haircut"), on top of a hip-hop influenced drum loop,
surrounded by retro touches like organ, and if you're lucky some
computerized vocal effects. It results in one brilliant track, "Where
It's At," but on most of the disc, he comes across like a kid trying to
impress you with how fast he can solve a Rubik's Cube: you couldn't do
it if you tried, but you don't care either. The lyrics are meaningless
free association, and Beck's voice is bland, blase and lethargic - just
like a million other angst boys - which only accentuates the unemotional
dryness of the experience. Rock critics are famously impressed by this
sort of facile genre bending, and the record turned up on a zillion
year-end Ten Best lists. It is enjoyably trivial, but don't
expect too much. Beck plays nearly all the instruments, though a
few guests pop up, including Charlie Haden on bass. (DBW)
 Black Box, Dreamland (1990)
The early 90s saw the death throes of dance music based on soulful vocals and irrestistable melodies,
before techno and electronica took over and everything went to hell. A number of terrific tunes hit dance floors in
late 1990, including Deee-Lite's "Groove Is In The Heart," C+C Music Factory's
"Gonna Make You Sweat," and several tunes by this Italian dance outfit. Mirko Limone, Valerio Semplici and Daniele
Davoli wrote, produced and performed a series of impressive singles combining uptempo percussion-heavy grooves,
unforgettable keyboard riffs, DJ-savvy breakdowns, and powerful vocals: "Everybody Everybody" (with its Sugar Bear-sounding "Owww"), "Strike It Up," and my favorite dance song of the decade, the insanely
hook-filled "I Don't Know Anybody Else." The debt to disco is strong throughout ("Open Your Eyes" sounds like Chic's "He's The Greatest Dancer" plus electronic percussion), but the bright production
and unpredictable cut-and-paste approach to song structure keep it from sounding dated.
Most importantly, though, the record is anchored by the full-out vocals of former Weather GirlMartha Wash, who croons,
wails and belts out nearly all the tunes ("Ghost Box" and the title track are instrumentals).
Wash was originally uncredited on the record, as the gullible public was expected to believe that frontwoman/model Katrin
Quinol was doing the singing - the fiction was impossible to sustain, in part because Wash was simultaneously ghost-singing
similar hits for C+C Music Factory.
There's one cover, a credible version of Earth, Wind & Fire's "Fantasy," though Wash's
full-throttle vocal doesn't particularly suit that material.
Loleatta Holloway adds vocals to "Ride On Time," the group's breakthrough single but actually one of the less interesting
tunes; other guests include guitarist Sauro Malavasi and saxophonist Rudy Trevisi. For whatever reason, the group vanished
into obscurity almost instantly - no followup ever made it across the Atlantic, at any rate.
(DBW)
 Boss, Born Gangstaz (1993)
The first and last record by Detroit native Boss may be the most perfectly nihilistic hip hop album ever. Staying in
character throughout as a murderous blunt-smoking sociopath (together with her sidekick Dee), she has no faith
and no mercy: life is a continual hail of bullets, and then you die. There's not a passing nod to religion or Black Power
or any potentially positive force; even romance is quickly reduced to kill-or-be-raped-and-killed ("A Blind Date With
Boss"). Who else would express nostalgia for bygone days - because they were more violent ("I Don't Give A Fuck")?
She's not even particularly interested in blaming anybody for her situation. But somehow she remains convincingly human - not crossing the line into unfathomable monster or Geto Boys-style cartoon -
by questioning her own actions, motives and sanity ("Deeper," a single), and between the lines of this "Diary Of A Mad
Bitch" you uncover a scared, defiant, vulnerable person. In this context the obligatory anti-violence piece "1-800-Body-Bags"
doesn't read as hypocrisy, just another layer of confusion. With all the gunshots, violent imagery and nonstop
profanity, reviewers didn't pay any attention to the music, but much of it is excellent, with producers Def Jef, Erick
Sermon, AMG and MC Serch creating layered, bass-heavy grooves, often built on smokey guitar licks ("Born Gangsta," "Recipe
Of A Hoe," and especially the eminently chantable "I Don't Give A Fuck"). However, there's a lot of second-rate material
that just rehashes Boss's main ideas ("Drive By," "2 To Da Head"), and it's so relentless it can be hard to sit through
the whole thing. Guests include Onyx and Boss's parents(!), Lillie and Joe Laws.
Boss rapidly faded away after The Wall Street Journal revealed that her life on the streets was largely fabricated, and was
invisible until a 2001 appearance on a Krayzie Bone record. (DBW)
Doyle Bramhall II (1996)
Bramhall's father used to be in Stevie Ray Vaughan's backing band, and Junior's Texas drawl sounds a lot like SRV's. But the resemblance ends there: young Doyle's not a bluesman, he's more of a cross between late Allman Brothers and current dance-pop, with plenty of "alternative" angst thrown in. If you like this record, you'll really really like it, because every song sounds the same: clanging rhythm guitars playing standard chord progressions, lots of "where have I heard that before?" riffs, half-moaned misogynistic vocals, relentless 4/4 drums.
In fact, it often sounds like a deliberate knockoff of Jagged Little Pill. I don't know what Wendy & Lisa saw in this guy - they produced, and co-wrote all three of the album's best tunes: "They Get Together" is reasonably catchy, the fingerpicking insturmental "Time" is fun, and the album closer "Stay A While" has the duo's characteristic ethereal touch.
All of which just makes you wish they could get label support to make their own record, and dump this guy. (DBW)
Toni Braxton, Secrets (1996)
The African-American Celine Dion, Braxton has a big, anonymous voice tailor-made for Adult Contemporary ballads. She hit big with her debut, which occasionally projected
a strong woman persona; she became far bigger this time around, femmeing out completely with a diaphanous wardrobe and a set of plaintive, plodding pleas.
Ace craftsperson Diane Warren came up with the year's dominant ballad, "Un-Break My Heart," and R. Kelly and Tony Rich get in one number each, but most of the tunes are Babyface's, and all of the production bears his synth-based signature.
He comes up with several nice melodies ("Why Should I Care," "You're Makin' Me High") and his acoustic guitar playing is a nice break from all the sustained synth lines ("There's No Me Without You"). But there are a lot of problems: first, Braxton's lack of emotional range or interpretative skill combined with the all-ballads format makes the record remarkably soporific. Then there's Kenny G's endless noodling on the overblown "How Could An Angel Break My Heart." But the record's low point is
practically the only place where Braxton's involved with the writing: her lyrics on "Talking In My Sleep" are meant to be tough and thought-provoking, but all they provoke are laughs. If you loved "Un-Break My Heart," this is an hour of the same. If you're hoping Braxton can stretch beyond that, don't waste your money. (DBW)
The Breeders, Last Splash (1993)
Kim Deal didn't get a lot of air time when she played bass in the Pixies, but with the group winding down she switched to guitar and formed her own band with Tanya Donnelly of Throwing Muses, cutting Pod in 1990.
After Donnelly was replaced by Deal's clone-like twin sister Kelley they broke through with this excellent record, which is notably more accessible than anything the Pixies did.
Instrumentally it could hardly be more basic (the instrumental "S.O.S."), with heavily distorted buzzsaw guitar lines and primitive, half-spoken vocals that are simultaneously girlish and creepy.
But the band really knows how to milk dynamic shifts (Kelley Deal's hard-rocking spotlight "I Just Wanna Get Along") - one track after another welds far out, funky licks onto big loud grunge choruses ("Cannonball").
It's especially fun when the Deal sisters' demented sensibilities run into their slow-grinding, tension-building riffs ("Invisible Man"; "Hag").
Kim also carries over the Pixies' weird obsession with surf rock (the steel guitar-slathered "No Aloha" and surging instrumental "Flipside," both of which just totally rock out; "Saints," with a huge lick).
Even some of the more spaced-out stuff works (the epic, nightmarish, head-banging, Zeppelin-like "Roi," later reprised).
And they even put together a jangly, radio-friendly anthem ("Divine Hammer," may be the high point).
They fare worse when they slow things down ("Do You Love Me Now?"; the zombie waltz "Mad Lucas"), and sometimes you just can't tell what the hell they're getting at ("New Year").
But who cares?
The rhythm section is Josephine Wigg (bass) and Jim Macpherson (drums); Carrie Bradley fiddles on the fun and completely incongruous country tune "Drivin' On."
Co-produced by Kim Deal and Mark Freegard.
I don't have the band's 2002 reunion album Title TK, but I did see them live when they toured to support the record, and they were good. (JA)
Chuck Brodsky, The Baseball Ballads (2002)
Philly-raised folk singer-songwriter Brodsky had gotten a good reaction from a handful of baseball-themed songs he'd penned over the years, so he pulled them together, wrote a bunch of new ones, and whammo! Instant concept album.
Brodsky has a pleasant voice (Dylanish but in a good way) and an easy gift for melody ("Gone To Heaven").
The story songs are invariably interesting ("The Ballad Of Ernie Klepp," about the first white player in the Negro Leagues) but often not much more than that: they're functional retellings of anecdotes but without much emotional resonance ("Dock Ellis' No-No"). The big exception is "Letters In The Dirt," a terrific song that's not so much about Dick Allen as about a kid growing up in Philadelphia trying to understand how we relate to our heroes.
Produced mostly by Kristian and Brandon Bush, who also play bass and drums respectively; other musicians include Jenny Hersch, Don Porterfield (both bass) and David Hamburger (dobro and slide).
(DBW)
Jeff Buckley, Grace (1994)
Whereas 70s and 80s hard rock bands relentlessly imitated Led Zeppelin's pomp and power chords, in the 90s a few artists emerged who were more inspired by the band's
lighter side - by the drama, by the casual etherealness of songs like "Down By The Seaside"... in a word, by Plant rather than Page. Tori Amos is one of these artists,
Jeff Buckley (Tim Buckley's son) was another. Buckley uses many of Plant's vocal mannerisms (though thankfully he doesn't "push") and epic multi-part structure, but
in a mostly acoustic folk-rock context, basic rhythm section supplemented by occasional loud guitar and/or strings. "So Real" even uses guitar cues from Physical Graffiti's "Ten Years Gone."
Unfortunately, Buckley shares their lack of concern for time, taking forever to get to the heart of a song ("Mojo
Pin"), and love of repetition. Furthermore, he's all atmosphere, no melody - without his admittedly commanding presence, the tunes wouldn't amount to much.
(Alroy tells me Tim Buckley had many of those same qualities, so my analysis of Jeff's influences may be totally off... wouldn't be the first time.)
Buckley wrote most of the tunes - there's also a cover of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" -
and played most of the guitars plus some keyboards; Mick Grondahl's on bass and Matt Johnson's on drums. Produced by Andy Wallace.
Buckley accidentally drowned before completing another album, and all that's available is a two-CD set of unfinished
material, and some live recordings; read more at this fine fan site.
(DBW)
Bush, Sixteen Stone (1994)
The fact that this hard rock band is overwhelmingly popular makes me
want to move to another planet. Lead singer/songwriter Gavin Rossdale is
so consumed with angst he can't be bothered to write melodies or play
his guitar, and nearly every song has the exact same structure and
arrangement: slow start, then chunky distorted rhythm and loping bass
with Nigel Pulsford's minimal, echoey lead guitar weaving in and out of
the mix. It gets dull during the opening "Everything Zen," let alone the
whole album which follows. Rossdale's delivery is passionless, and his
lyrics are piled-up non sequitur clichés - unless he's making
some postmodern point I'm not getting. No overdubs, backing vocals or
anything that might give the material some interest. The silver lining
is Robin Goodridge's solid, creative drumming, and a couple of tunes do
have some cathartic force ("Bomb," "Glycerine"). But there are probably
five better bands on your block: this is nothing to go out of your way
for. (DBW)
Busta Rhymes, The Coming (1996)
Busta Rhymes is the perfect guest rapper: his triple-time, larger than
life clowning will liven up almost any track. But on his own, the
schtick gets wearying, largely because he doesn't have anything to say
except for vague apocalyptic prophecies ("Abandon Ship," "The End Of
The World"), and equally unspecific cutdowns of other rappers ("Do My
Thing"). Production on this disc, his second or third solo album, is by
Easy Mo Bee, DJ Scratch, The Ummah, Rashad Smith and Busta, and it's
uniformly dull - slow, rumbling synth strings and nearly identical beats
from track to track. He certainly has his moments (the single "Woo Hah!!
Got You All In Check"), and I don't deny that he's a kinetic performer -
I'll watch one of his videos any time - but an hour spent just listening
to him is about forty-five minutes too long. Guest artists include
Q-Tip, Jamal, Redman, Rampage The Last Boy
Scout, and a few people I've never heard of, but nobody makes much of an
impression. This was a big hit, and his 1998 release (with a guest
appearance by Janet Jackson) was even
bigger. (DBW)
The Charlatans, Up To Our Hips (1994)
Known in the U.S. as Charlatans U.K. to distinguish them from an obscure 60s rock band, the Charlatans are another Stone Roses-influenced Britpop act.
Singer Tim Burgess' laconic crooning isn't terribly melodic, drummer Jon Brookes delivers insistent percussion overdubs and a loud, if danceable Manchester beat, bassist Martin Blunt makes no particular use of his McCartney-like tone ("I Never Want An Easy Life..."), and guitarist Mark Collins apes the early 70s-style guitar god heroics of a John Squire.
The only thing setting them apart is Rob Collins' blaring, repetitive, retro Hammond organ licks, which often leave them stranded in the late 60s (title track).
On their third record since 1990, they simply refuse to expand their thoroughly derivative sound.
About half the grooves are catchy, but the tunes are monotonously formulaic - "Come In Number 21," "Patrol," and "Inside-Looking Out" all exactly follow the Stone Roses' characteristically self-indulgent, discombulated groundplan; the ominously psychedelic, six-minute funk-techno instrumental "Feel Flows" has all of the Roses' ego and none of Squire's virtousity; the plodding, White Album-based semi-acoustic ballad "Autograph" just mirrors their influences.
Things only fly on the faster, shorter, guitar-dominated tunes: "Can't Get Out Of Bed" has some energetic, Keith Richards-like strummery and Bee Gees-ish harmonies; "Jesus Hairdo" is an amusing Led Zeppelin photocopy, right down to its Plant-like nonsense lyrics, Jones-inspired electric piano, hard-kicking Bonham-based drums, and especially Mark Collins' unusually sharp Page-y slide guitar; he also pulls off a lyrical lead and some bona fide dynamics on the angsty "Another Rider Up In Flames."
Producer Steve Hillage does get an authentic classic rock sound of them, but the songwriting leaves much to be desired.
Rob Collins died in a car crash in 1996, after the 1995 release of their eponymous fourth record; despite this, they released further records in 1997 and 1999. (JA)
Various, Chef Aid: The South Park Album (1998)
The overnight success of the cable cartoon series South Park gave its creators, Trey Parker and Matt Stone, license
to do just about anything they wanted, and here's the result: they play keyboards and drums respectively on much of the
album, and many of the tunes are Parker's. His writing and playing is surprisingly professional, particularly on the
songs featuring Isaac Hayes, who is hilarious (in character as "Chef") parodying his sex god
persona on "Chocolate Salty Balls," "No Substitute," "Simultaneous" and "Tonight Is Right For Love (With Meredith Baxter-Birney),"
a duet with Meat Loaf. The backing is tuneful, authentic 70s slow funk, and an entire album of this material would have
been well worth hearing. Unfortunately, the disc is packed with second- and third-rate efforts by artists old (Devo,
Joe Strummer) and new (Rancid, Ween), plus the inevitable superstar collaborations
(Rick James and Ike Turner on a tepid version of Parker's "Love Gravy"; Ozzy
Osbourne, Ol' Dirty Bastard and DMX on Crystal Method's electronica "Nowhere To Run"). The only
bright spot is Elton John's rousing "Wake Up Wendy." Worst of all are the songs sung by other
South Park characters: "Eric Cartman"'s rendition of the Styx epic "Come Sail Away" is amusing the first time through, but
"Ned Gerblansky"'s take on Bad Company's "Feel Like Makin' Love" is a dreary exercise in
bad taste. Largely produced and mixed by Rick Rubin. (DBW)
Children Of Bodom, Are You Dead Yet? (2005)
Nowadays, heavy metal has so many tiny subgenres it's impossible to keep track of them all. The Finnish band Children Of Bodom seems to play melodic death metal, not to be confused with melodic black metal. (Both styles use grunted vocals, slow tempos and synthesizers, but the "death" bands have more personal and less Satanic lyrics than the "black" bands.) Anyway, COB - named for an unsolved 1960 multiple murder case - has released five studio albums starting with 1997's Something Wild.
There are a lot of top-notch headbanging riffs here, from the rapid-fire title track to the slow-burning "Punch Me I Bleed," the tunes are concise, and the band has a finely poised sense of menace ("Trashed, Lost & Strungout").
The problem is, they lose me each time Janne Wirman's cheesy synth comes in: whether it's playing high-speed single note solos ("Bastards Of Bodom") or adding atmostpheric background ("In Your Face"), the tones are bland and poppy, as if they'd escaped from an old Human League album.
I'm not opposed to keyboards in metal, but they should sound, y'know, metal... Apparently their earlier albums have even more synth, so I'm gonna stay away from those.
Vocalist/lead guitarist Alex Laiho runs the show, writing nearly all the songs and playing nearly all the leads, though second guitarist Roope Latvala (formerly of Steon) gets a couple in; the rhythm section is Jaska Raatinkainen (drums) and Henkka Seppälä (bass).
(DBW)
Children Of Bodom, Blooddrunk (2008)
Very much in the same style, with brutal downtuned guitar vamps and way too much squiggly synth ("One Day You Will Cry"). Lyrically they stick with tired Satanizing (title track; "Banned From Heaven"). So if you're not crazy about the band's general approach the record will do nothing to change your mind, but if you like them it's solidly satisfying ("Tie My Rope," which turns into a lead guitar free-for-all). Though the tunes clock in around four minutes, Laiho packs a bunch of sections into each one: "LoBodomy" is a fascinating riff stew, and "Done With Everything, Die For Nothing" is a thrilling adrenaline cocktail. Even the less memorable tracks are well constructed ("Smile Pretty For The Devil"), so they get more mileage out of their formula than you'd think possible, but I do wish they'd mix in a new formula now and then.
(DBW)
 Cibo Matto, VIVA! La Woman (1996)
Two women (Yuka Honda and Miho Hatori), their keyboard, and streams of their collective consciousness. I saw them
in Central Park and it was fun: they would spin a simple, Deee-lite-like groove, throw out
some random lyrics and build to a
mildly amusing chorus. For variety they brought in live musicians
for a punk version of "The Candy Man," and ended with a hilarious
spoken word piece about throwing up on Keanu Reeves. But in the
studio, everything falls flat: the Reeves piece didn't make it to
this disc, the cover of "Candy Man" is ambient trance like the rest
(i.e. dull like house music, only hard to dance to), and the
free-associated lyrics are self-consciously silly. When Hatori
starts screaming the chorus of "Birthday Cake" you may find
yourself running for the eject button. A couple of the quieter
tunes make pleasant background music ("Sugar Water," "Apple") -
otherwise, wait to see them in concert. (DBW)
Cradle Of Filth, Thornography (2006)
A British heavy metal band formed in the early 90s, Cradle Of Filth has some similarities to Marilyn Manson: Gothic makeup, gender-vague pseudonyms (lead singer Dani Filth) and a calculated, desperate desire to offend. Pretty much all borrowed from Alice Cooper. Over the years, Cradle Of Filth has won plenty of fans while alienating others by remaining vague on whether they really believe all this stuff about vampires (Cruelty And The Beast was a concept album about Countess Bathory) or they're just screwing around (as evidenced by tongue-in-cheek covers like Cliff Richard's "Devil Woman").
What's sillier, someone who really worships the devil, or someone who just pretends to?
This album, the group's twelfth, is more of the same mock-poetic mock-blasphemy ("Rise Of The Pentagram"; "Libertina Grimm"), produced by Rob Caggiano (formerly of Anthrax). Apparently the grandiosity is reined in from earlier discs, though there's still a symphonic opening with a pretentious title ("Under Pregnant Skies She Comes Alive Like Miss Leviathan"), and a bunch of seven-minute cuts ("I Am The Thorn"). Tunewise, there are about as many misses ("The Byronic Man"; a cover of Heaven 17's 1983 "Temptation"; "Cemetery And Sundown" spoils the "Symphony Of Destruction" riff) as hits ("Libertina Grimm," with a Sabbath-quality bent lick). But when they're on, they're really on: "The Foetus Of A New Day Kicking," one of the shortest songs, is an eye-opener; piano-like keyboards are set against metal guitars on the strangely moving, mostly instrumental "Rise Of The Pentagram"; and the mini-opera "Lovesick For Mina" conveys overwrought emotion like King Diamond at his best.
(DBW)
Sheryl Crow, Tuesday Night Music Club (1993)
Once in a great while, an album comes along that's so staggeringly
unoriginal it makes you question your faith in humanity. This isn't that
album, but it's damn close: so many standard rock elements are reused
here you might think you're listening to a Seventies Mellow Rock
compilation. "Strong Enough" is a mostly-acoustic tune that strongly
recalls Rumours-era Fleetwood
Mac; "The Na-Na Song" is an embarrassing stream-of-consciousness ripoff of
John Lennon's "Give Peace A Chance"; "I Shall
Believe" is every mushy self-help anthem you ever heard, and less. A
massive seller behind the hit single "All I Wanna Do," which
features the "Suzy Q" bass line endlessly repeated while Crow half-sings
pseudo-poetic verses, and a chorus that really was catchy the first
hundred thousand times I heard it. Crow's voice is featureless, which
suits the material, and the band is slick and professional: when it
comes to lowest common denominator, Bonnie Raitt Lite, WalMart-targeted
rock and roll, Crow delivers. (DBW)
Dark Tranquillity, Fiction (2007)
Yet another Swedish melodic death metal band, Dark Tranquillity has been influential within that scene since their birth at the beginning of the 90s.
Vocalist Mikael Stanne sticks to a low growl for the most part, though he does sing clean a couple of times ("Misery's Crown," where he declaims like an 80s goth).
The sound is furious and technical ("The Lesser Faith"; "Empty Me" with uncountable time signatures) but uninvolving, partly because it's so unchanging, and partly because the guitars and basses are so down-tuned and muddy, you can hardly tell what they're playing - Martin Brändström's trebly keyboards are stuck carrying the melodies. And since I can't make out any of the lyrics, I'm left with nothing to listen for... I'm stuck here going "Yep, that Anders Jivarp sure is one technically proficient drummer. How many more songs until I can change the CD and listen to some actual music?" The standout track is "Inside The Particle Storm," with a quiet middle that permits some dynamic range and ultimately some actual emotion.
Produced by the band and Tue Madsen; the only guest is Nell Sigland, who adds vocals to the closer "The Mundane And The Magic." (DBW)
Dez Dickerson, Oneman (1997)
If you know who Dickerson is at all, it's probably for his stint as lead guitarist in Prince's backup band: last time I saw him was his brief appearance in "Purple Rain" singing "(I Want To Be A) Modernaire." In the intervening years he's become a born-again Christian, and this collection of guitar-driven pop rock is mostly religious-themed ("Real To Me," "This Song," title track), but he mostly manages to avoid the usual clichés. Phil Solem of the flash-in-the-pan Rembrandts worked on a couple of tracks here, and the
disc echoes that band's Beatle-derived feel-good rock, with bright, chunky rhythm guitar chords all over the place.
Dickerson - who wrote everything except one cover, produced, played nearly all the guitar and bass parts and sang all the vocals - stays within his limits: he doesn't try to outplay or outsing everyone else on the planet, he just crafts three to four minute pop songs. There's very little variety from track to track, but it's all very earnest, and pleasant enough. If you're a fan of undemanding guitar pop, you'll be pleasantly surprised by this disc. (DBW)
Ani DiFranco, Puddle Dive (1993)
A folk singer from Buffalo, NY, who's built herself into a cottage industry without any help from record companies,
developing her own Righteous Babe label by selling self-written, self-produced tapes out of the back of her Volkswagon.
Singer/songwriters tend to be self-absorbed - nature of the beast - but DiFranco pushes it to an extreme on her fourth album, spitting out
song after song about her solitary life on the road, making the same observations that urban hipsters have made about small towns since the
beginning of time ("4th Of July," "God's Country," "Back Around"), and including a few self-congratulatory "I see through corporate
conditioning" odes ("My IQ," "Willing To Fight"). She evidently works quickly: clutches of words appear with no evident relation to the
rest of a song ("Names And Dates And Times"), while the melodies give "rudimentary" a bad name ("Egos Like Hairdos").
But what's striking and valuable about the record is precisely that fuck-it bravado: DiFranco's voice ranges from a cutting sneer to a
quavery yodel, all the arrangements are built around her harshly strummed acoustic guitar - instruments ranging from violin to marimba
crop up here and there, but they're purely decorative - she's tough enough to show weakness ("Used To You"),
and she frequently finds powerful images that most people would be afraid to touch ("Pick Yer Nose," "Blood In The Boardroom"). Arresting
if aggravating, but probably not her best work; DiFranco's 1995 Not A Pretty Girl is often cited as a high point, and I'll be looking for it.
(DBW)
Ani DiFranco, To The Teeth (1999)
DiFranco's twelveth album in ten years (not counting some collaborations) finds her mellow, having smoothed out the rough edges in her
voice and her songwriting - mild declarations outweigh manifestos here - so it's consistently dull rather than intermittently annoying.
Half-spoken vocals with no discernable melody, sluggish acoustic guitar accompaniment, soporific six- and seven-minute
running times (the anti-NRA title track), lyrics so direct they read like diary excerpts ("Short Shoulder"), and an
overall depressed manner ("Carry You Around"). The closest comparison I can find is Tracy
Chapman in her most artless moments. The only track with arresting energy is the rock star whine "Freakshow"; the
one excellent song is "Hello Birmingham," a keenly detailed
meditation on political assassinations. The spare arrangements usually include guitar (DiFranco), drums (Daren Hahn),
acoustic bass (Jason Mercer), organ (Julie Wolf), and occasional horns (Maceo Parker on sax,
Brian Wolf on trumpet and trombone) - Prince adds faint vocals to "Providence."
There's an amazingly detailed fan site.
(DBW)
Celine Dion (1992)
The French Canadian Toni Braxton, Dion has a
beautiful voice but brings absolutely no personality to her material:
she's the kind of artist who could sing her own diary without giving you
the impression that it meant anything to her. It's a talent that makes
her a natural for movie themes, and this disc includes the title song
from "Beauty And The Beast," a duet with Peabo Bryson. This was either
her first or second album in English, and it's in the mold of her later
releases: lush ballads and bouncy pop. Sometimes it sounds like Mariah Carey's worst moments, particularly when
Carey cohort Walter Afanasieff is on hand ("If You Could See Me Now,"
"If I Were You"),
but where Carey's got a deep bag of vocal tricks, Dion just keeps plugging away until she's made it to the end of the cut. Half the songs are by Diane Warren,
and they're tenth hand romantic clichés wedded to servicable but unmemorable melodies ("Nothing Broken But My Heart," "Love Can Move Mountains"). Prince's donated "With This Tear" is no better. Producers include Ric Wake and Guy Roche, and they don't have one original idea between them. But this kind of music isn't about originality, it's about catering to sentimentality - music's answer to soap operas - and on that level it's a complete success. (DBW)
Jermaine Dupri, Life In 1472 (1998)
Hot producer Dupri assembled a top-flight cast for his first solo album,
bringing in artists he'd brought to the limelight (Da Brat, Xscape) or at
least made hits for (Mariah Carey). But
somewhere along the line he got so focused on star power he forgot about
making good music. The disc is overloaded with hip hop
clichéfests ("Turn It Out," "Money Ain't A Thing," "You Get Dealt
Wit") featuring inarticulate, highly commercial rappers like Jay-Z, Mase
and Snoop Dogg and one obvious sample per song. "The Party Continues"
(with Da Brat and Usher) isn't much better, and Slick Rick's "Fresh" is
incredibly dull. (However, "Get Your Shit Right" - with DMX and the Mad
Rapper - and "Protectors Of 1472" have fine, ominous grooves.) Dupri
certainly knows how to create interesting, original backing tracks, and
I don't understand why he so consistently failed to do so here. The two
slow R&B tunes are standouts: "Lay You Down" with Trina and Tamara Powell, and
Carey's lovely cover of the Rainy Davis hit "Sweetheart" (also released on her concurrent greatest hits compiliation). Hopefully, this was an
abberation, and Dupri's not descending into Puffy-style music-by-numbers. I will give him
credit for not including any annoying interludes or hidden tracks. Other
guests include Too Short, Eightball, Lil' Kim, Warren G and Keith Sweat.
(DBW)
Jermaine Dupri Presents 12 Soulful Nights Of Christmas (1998)
Dupri put his name on this set of Yuletide R&B, but he doesn't appear and only produced two tracks: Faith's simple, touching "A Christmas Lullabye" and
Trey Lorenz's "My
Younger Days," built on a sample of Freddie Hubbard's "Red Clay."
There's an unusually high proportion of original tunes, with just a couple of workhorses like "The Christmas Song" (sung by Tamia),
and most of them are pretty good: Gerald Levert's "Christmas Without My Girl," Brian McKnight's
"Because Of His Love." McKnight also wrote and produced Xscape's feature, "Christmas Without You," and his low-key, Babyface-singin'-like-Stevie Wonder approach underlies much of the disc (Kenny Lattimore's
"This Time Of Year").
Trina Broussard's "Not Really Christmas" is perhaps the best of the bunch, with a smoky nightclub vibe, live instruments, an irresistable
fade chant and an emotive but not overdone lead vocal.
The sixteen-year old Alicia Keys performs a neo-soul version of "Little Drummer Girl" produced by
Rodney Jerkins - her Erykah Badu impression sounds great, though her streetwise spoken intro is cloying.
Chaka Khan sings "Christmas Only Once A Year"... the melody sounds very familiar but I can't quite place it.
That ever happen to you? Boy, it's frustrating.
Anyway, the disc is too much of a good thing - virtually all in the same style at the same tempo - but that beats the hell out of too much
of a bad thing.
(DBW)
Eminem, The Marshall Mathers LP (2000)
Easily the most overrated hip hop album of the year.
The music is thin, with Eminem and the other producers - Bass Brothers, F.B.T., Doctor Dre - blending brittle keyboard lines, nursery rhyme melodies and tinny beats.
There are a few clever rhymes here, and Em does have a smooth delivery, but his vocabulary is mostly limited to
four-letter words, and he repeats drab choruses endlessly ("Kill You").
He's phenomenally self-absorbed, ranting about his media representation at length that would embarass Chuck D. ("The Way I Am"), referring to his record sales on almost every track, and packing in trivial
pop-culture references to obscure his total lack of originality or message ("The Real Slim Shady").
The intended-to-offend schtick that underlies his popularity is nothing new: Sticky Fingaz, who
guests on "Remember Me?," worked the same material with a more forceful, unhinged presentation and better backing tracks;
Gravediggaz and the Geto Boys went farther describing horrific violence, without the misogynist slant;
Ghostface Killah's "Wildflower" is a far more honest anti-woman tirade than "Kim," Em's
vicious verbal assault on his wife (who attempted suicide soon after the disc was released); Dre's N.W.A. blazed a trail for homophobic ignorance back in the 80s.
Eminem's about as inventive and creative as a three-year-old who's discovered he can rattle his parents by saying "fuck."
Critics and networks (especially MTV) lining up to defend the disc are either misguidedly attempting to support free
expression by ascribing non-existent artistic value (a la 2 Live Crew), or just trying to pump up their hipness quotient by backing a "controversial" artist popular with
disaffected youth (a la Marilyn Manson).
(DBW)
En Vogue, Funky Divas (1992)
Highly commercialized R&B, as influenced by hip hop as by Philly soul. The four lead singers - Terry Ellis, Maxine Jones, Cindy Herron and Dawn Robinson - can really sing, and many of the arrangements here give them each a chance to shine. The hit single "My Lovin' (You're Never Gonna Get It") is an irresistable blend of taunting vocals, quick cuts, smooth harmonies, and a stolen James Brown riff. Now for the negatives: Svengalis Thomas McElroy and Denzil Foster are extremely derivative. Besides
the uncredited Brown reference, they cover both singles from the Curtis Mayfield/Aretha Franklin collaboration Sparkle (releasing "Giving Him Something He Can Feel" as this album's second single), and "Free Your Mind" has a "U Got The Look" style dance rock groove and a sanitized Funkadelic chorus. And did we really need another cover of "Yesterday," no matter how nice the vocals are?
Nothing else matches the promise of "My Lovin'," but it's a step up from their debut Born To Sing, and since the band lost one of its voices and its production team soon after this release, this is the place to start if you want to have the En Vogue experience. (DBW)
Evanescence, Fallen (2003)
The Little Rock-based band exploded onto the scene with this major label debut, driven by three very different songwriters: goth frontwoman Amy Lee, hard rock guitarist Ben Moody, and Christian rock keyboardist David Hodges. Their three styles coalesced into a sound - tuneful but vaguely "alternative"; overflowing with angst and emotion but highly professional; equal parts mournful synths and raging guitar distortion - that's immediately identifiable (though not far from Lacuna Coil's). The first two tracks, both singles, set the tone: "Bring Me To Life" (with nü-metal style vocals from Paul McCoy) and "Going Under" are constructed more like dance tracks than traditional rockers, fading guitars, strings, keyboard, live and programmed drums up and down in the mix as Lee emotes.
"My Immortal" - another big hit - and "Hello" don't fit the mold: they're essentially straight ballads.
Though it's all a bit overwrought and precious ("My Last Breath"), there are enough satisfying riffs ("Whisper"; "Tourniquet") and thrilling vocals ("Everybody's Fool") to reward you for persisting through it all.
Produced by Moody and Dave Fortman.
Hodges left right before the record was released, Moody split shortly afterwards, and the band became Lee's show. (DBW)
For Real, It's A Natural Thang (1994)
Four young black women with really strong voices. Make you think of En Vogue? The producers apparently did too - everything from the programmed pseudo-hip hop drumming to the sassy lyrics ("You Don't Wanna Miss") and vocal style sound like an En Vogue knockoff, and that band was only marginally original to start with. The album has one key track, the a capella "You Don't Know Nothin'," with lovely harmonies and a hummable tune
- after hearing them sing that at a Stevie Wonder concert, I was looking forward to hearing this. But everything else is mechanical and obvious, with trite lyrics ("I'm Thinking Of You") and familiar-sounding tunes - the only other enjoyable one is "I Like." The group's close-cropped hair and dressed-down appearance is a sign that they really do want to be more than someone else's shadow, and the fact that many of the tunes are band-written has some potential for future growth, but this debut is not auspicious. (DBW)
For Real, Free (1996)
Usually it's a bad sign when a group starts posing nude on their album covers. But this is actually a definite step up from their debut: Dallas Austin took over as main producer, and he chucked the high-tech hip-hop in favor of 60s retro: live-sounding piano, bass and drums. This makes for fewer distractions from the group's vocals, and he's also written a bunch of nice, smooth tunes ("Like I Do," "Hold Me") though he occasionally slides over the boundaries of good taste ("Good Morning Sunshine").
Stevie Wonder's uncredited guest vocal on "How Can I Get Close To You" is also fun, though the tune is in a generic Boys II Men mold. Austin's influence extends to SoulShock, the other main producers - Steve Bray also sneaks in one track - and they come up with mellow, tuneful R&B on "Remember" and the title track. For good measure, the year's hottest songwriter Diane Warren contributes "The Saddest Song I Ever Heard" (it isn't). This time around the band members didn't contribute much to the songwriting, but everything else is improved,
and if you're into the current wave of group-vocal R&B you should enjoy this. (DBW)
Fountains Of Wayne, Utopia Parkway (1999)
I'm a sucker for melodious rock, but check out that rating: I do have some kind of self respect.
This is the glossily produced second major-label effort by the frequently annoying pop-rock revival band, which is basically the Adam Schlesinger and Chris Collingwood show (they even produced; Schlesinger is on bass, Collingwood on guitar and dorky lead vocals).
They're only even vaguely distinct when they try to rip off the Cars: cheesy synth meets 50s sock hop (title track, the high point).
But even then they keep things totally professional, with slicker melodies and harmonies ("Denise"), and some cautiously loud guitars ("It Must Be Summer").
Whenever they get away from the Cars thing, they actually sound a lot like the dB's ("The Valley Of Malls," which has a decent hook) - when they're not dishing out a clueless "acid rock" tribute ("Go, Hippie"), an early 70s Kinks-style number ("Laser Show"), or a sappy early 70s pop ballad, complete with strings ("Prom Theme").
Lyrically they're clever but frustrating: they push too hard with the humor, they overuse pop culture references, they're obsessed with teenage girls (no, really), and often they're just vapid.
They try really hard ("Amity Gardens"), but they're hopelessly dull ("Red Dragon Tattoo"), and they're especially wimpy when they slow things down ("Hat And Feet"; "A Fine Day For A Parade," with Ron Sexsmith on backing vocals; the shockingly generic pop song "Troubled Times"; "The Senator's Daughter," one of the few catchy tunes).
Although there is some modest entertainment in here (the chipper, economical "Lost In Space"), they're so tedious I found myself thinking, "shoot me before I drop dead from boredom."
Jody Porter is the second guitarist, and Brian Young is on drums - he sounds totally anonymous here, although he was outstanding with the Posies. (JA)
Various, Grace Of My Heart Soundtrack (1996)
It's time to play "Spot The Ripoff." In making the soundtrack for
a film loosely based on the life of Carole King, producer Larry Klein decided to write new songs with
current artists that sound like specific artists from the early and
mid 1960s. Even when the execution is successful - J Mascis of
Dinosaur Jr sounds just like Harvest-era Neil Young, For Real does a good job
of imitating the Supremes -
it's distasteful, and when they miss their mark it's really
embarrassing: the surf music number ("Take A Run At The Sun") is
exceptionally irritating, and the Everly Brothers imitation is
tuneless tripe the real Everlys never would have come near.
Bizarrely, Joni Mitchell came on board to
rip off herself: "Man From Mars," sung by Kristen Vigard (unless
you're lucky enough to find a misprinted copy with Mitchell
singing) is a copy of the For The Roses sound, with a clever,
deceptively mellow arrangement and a surprisingly mundane lyric.
Only a couple of tunes are more than outright knockoffs: the single
"God Give Me Strength" written and performed by Burt Bacharach and
Elvis Costello is original enough, it's
just not very interesting; Juned's "Groovin' On You" is a nice mix
of psychedelic pop rock with Suzanne Vega-style breathy vocals and
syncopated rhythm guitar. I don't really know who would enjoy this
record, since I'd assume nostalgia buffs would rather hear the
original songs by the original artists, and the ahistorical pop
consumer would miss the point of all the anachronistic touches.
Usually movie soundtracks are thrown together quickly and sloppily,
and are forgotten as soon as the movie leaves the theaters; this
time, the producers put a lot of thought and effort into the
soundtrack, and it was forgettable even before the movie closed.
(DBW)
Grant Lee Buffalo, Copperopolis (1996)
The Mantovani of 90s alt rock, singer/songwriter/full-time egotist Grant Lee Phillips tries hard to put the "I" back in "rock band."
That leads critics to compare him to 70s icons like David Bowie and Neil Young whose personalities nearly overshadowed their own music.
Indeed, Phillips' creaky, whispery tenor, soul cowboy harmonica playing, and affinity for feedback, acoustic jangle, and stately 3/4 time signatures do recall Young on Quaaludes, and bassist/keyboard player/producer Paul Kimble does toss in a Bowie-sized serving of odd instrumentation and studio tweaking.
But Phillips' artsy-fartsy influences are from elsewhere: "The Bridge" is a flat-out Carly Simon imitation; the glacial "All That I Have" is an old timey torch song; the more up-tempo tunes ("Better For Us") recall 70s pop rock like Air Supply, Badfinger, or (at best) a mopey Wings ("Comes To Blows"); "Even The Oxen" is a John Mellencamp-style confessional anthem, and "Homespun" a snarling, Tom Petty-ish foot-stomper; and when Phillips' lyrics aren't full of sophomoric nihilism and self-pity ("Hyperion And Sunset") they retread the all-American jingoism of Mellencamp, Petty, and Bruce Springsteen ("Bethlehem Steel," with a brooding string arrangement that almost salvages the song's monotonous, repetitive rhythm; "Crackdown," a current events whine).
Laden with dramatic flourishes, meandering melodies, and woeful low-energy angst, Phillips' sluggish tunes are usually flat and forgettable ("The Only Way Down"), but the few strong ones do have some emotional resonance ("Homespun"; "Arousing Thunder," with Roger McGuinn-style guitar and vocals).
Mood music for the recovering nose-ring addict.
The drummer is Joey Peters, and there are a few bit players on pedal steel, violin, and horns. (JA)
Green Day, Insomniac (1995)
The follow-up to the factory-made California punk band's breakthrough album Dookie, this is a textbook example of how teenagers are manipulated by the mass media.
Everything about it screams teen rebellion, from the militaristic, double-time, 80s-style punk drumbeats to the satiricial, Norman Rockwell-inspired, apocalyptic cover art to the liberal use of generic obscenities like "shit." And everything about it is entirely fake, from frontman Billie Joe's affected quasi-Cockney enunciation to his monotonous, just-loud-enough guitar distortion to drummer Tre Cool's ridiculously self-referential pseudonym.
Joe's idea of "punk" is to play at an unwavering, speedy tempo, strum power chords non-stop, stick with standard power trio instrumentation, eschew overdubs, and bitch and whine about the boredom of the middle-class American lifestyle ("Brat") - the kind of thing done with ten times the sincerity by older bands like the Jam and the Meat Puppets.
But at heart he's just another prefab AOR professional, singing in key, playing flawlessly, arranging Beatles-style vocal harmonies, and ripping off 70s dinosaurs like the Who ("Panic Song"), Kinks ("Walking Contradiction"), and Aerosmith ("Bab's Uvula Who?") - at his best he has the band veer into a punk take on early 80s American New Wave ("No Pride"), or even REM's power-pop formula ("Geek Stink Breath").
Every track here sounds exactly the same, and every one is entirely dispensable in its tuneful, foot-tapping catchiness; if you had to turn one into a hit, I guess it would be "Stuart And The Ave." or the metal-punk head-banger "Brain Stew." For self-deluded nose-ring wearers only. (JA)
Juliana Hatfield, Only Everything (1995)
The slickest and most high-profile release by the ex-Blake Babies bassist.
Despite all the unromantic, depressingly poetic lyrics, Hatfield's commercial sense is unimpeachable.
She plays all the guitars and keyboards and some of the bass, and proves to be a competent lead guitarist ("Dumbfun") and a pounding rhythm player, belying her girlish, clean-cut vocals.
She puts across a series of hard-driving rockers with blazingly distorted guitars, irresistable hooks, and gobs of energy ("OK OK"; the lurching "You Blues"; best of all "What A Life").
She does drop to a lower gear for a demo-like experiment ("Outsider"), a sludgy down-tempo number ("Bottles And Flowers"), and some Nirvana-style quiet/loud alternation (the impressive "Universal Heartbeat," with a mesmerizing Wurlitzer line; "Dying Proof"; "Hang Down From Heaven").
Golly, there's even a cut in French ("Fleur De Lys") and a druggy grunge waltz ("Congratulations").
And in a couple of places she even falls back to the breezy, innocent-sounding pop rock that marked her earlier work ("Live On Tomorrow"; "My Darling," with a mellotron line).
Some of the material does drag ("Simplicity Is Beautiful"), and as with all of her records the production is fairly monotonous.
But this is tour de force of rock technique, from dynamics, melody and harmony right down to guitar tone.
Most of the bass parts are by Dean Fisher; Josh Feese and Mike Levesque are on drums.
Co-produced by Hatfield and engineers Sean Slade and Paul Q. Kolderie. (JA)
Tim Hawkes, Make You Worry (1998)
It's a rare record that cuts through my deep-seated prejudices. I got
this disc in the mail, and the approach is one I usually hate: rambling
voice-over vocals (by Hawkes) over programmed beats,
plus guitars and loops masterminded by a keyboardist/producer
(Brent Bodrug). But here it works, mostly because the grooves are so
catchy they're just irresistable ("Better Place," "Son To Shine,"
"What's It For"). The bass lines (played by Drew Birston) are truly
funky; the rock guitar licks (by Bruno Ierullo, Kevin Vienneau and Mike
Hampson) are fierce; even the drum programming sounds fresh (Denton
Whited contributes some real drumming). I'm not enthralled with Hawkes'
subject matter, lyrics or delivery ("Tell Me" and "What's It For"
practically define sophomoric philosphizing), but he's come up with some
damn fine tunes. The slower numbers can drag, though ("Did I Make You
Worry"), and the trip hop remixes are a waste of time, draining the
energy out of some of the best material ("Station"). You can get more
information through Bodrug's B-Group Music web
site; I'd certainly be interested in hearing more Bodrug productions
(hint, hint). (DBW)
Helium, The Dirt Of Luck (1995)
Along with the Posies, Helium was one of the best things to come out of American rock music in the 90s.
Leader Mary Timony delivers grinding, grungy, neurotic, unconventionally structured, brilliantly arranged, self-produced indie rock ("Pat's Trick," a.k.a. "Beautiful Thing"), sometimes bordering on acts like Yo La Tengo or Pavement, but entirely distinct.
Timony's ringing, deliberate instrumental and vocal hooks are insiduous ("Silver Angel"; "All The X's Have Wings"; "Flower Of The Apocalypse").
Her taut rhythms are methodical and tension-building ("Trixie's Star").
Her shy and precise vocals are remarkably angsty.
She gets a sparse, intimate sound out of elaborate orchestrations.
She's primarily a guitarist who plays the instrument like a converted violinist, but her grab bag is impressive, ranging from bass and drums to keyboards (the creepy, beautiful instrumental "Comet #9") and even xylophone ("Baby's Going Underground").
And although her fractured, image-strewn poetic fantasies are a little pretentious, they're always striking and intelligent.
A lot of the material is too wimpy ("Honeycomb") or more often too arcane to be memorable, but there are still plenty of idiosyncratic masterpieces ("Medusa"; the head-banging "Skeleton," a dissertation on dynamics; the ecstatic "Superball"; the straightforward rocker "Oh The Wind And Rain," a.k.a. "I Want Everything You Do"), making this record an intermittent auditory orgasm.
Ash Bowie is on bass and so on; Shawn King Devlin is on drums. (JA)
Lauryn Hill, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill (1998)
Self-written, self-produced (mostly) solo effort by the former Fugee;
it's a decent record but not nearly as good as you've heard.
The music is retro soul, with live bass, keyboards and occasional horns
and strings over a bedrock of simple programmed beats... hardly any
samples (aside from the cover of "Can't Take My Eyes Off Of
You"). Some of the instrumental flourishes are very clever (the
harp runs on the ballad "When It Hurts So Bad"), but they don't make
up for the relentless ordinary compositions ("Final Hour,"
"Ex-Factor" - the rambunctious "Every Ghetto, Every City" is an
exception). As long as you focus on Hill,
though, you'll be okay: it's a rare artist who
sounds credible both as a rapper and as a singer, and Hill is certainly
one (most noticably on her backup vocals). She gets high marks for
sociopolitical relevance: the hit single "Doo Wop (That Thing)" updates
the battle of the sexes (though the verse taking underdressed women to
task is a bit hypocritical coming from the micromini-clad Hill,
and the slam against Koreans is doubly so); "Final
Hour"; and the song for her young child is touching ("To Zion," with an
overmild guitar solo from Carlos Santana).
But many of the songs are so personal to Hill they don't resonate the
way confessional lyrics should: why would I give a shit about her
squabbles with (former?) bandmate Wyclef Jean ("Lost Ones," "Superstar,"
which at least has a smokey soul groove)? Also, her lyrics can be
distressingly obvious ("Lost Ones"). Mary J.
Blige ("I Used To Love Him") and D'Angelo ("Nothing Even Matters")
each drop by for a forgettable duet, and Shelley Thunder contributes a verse to the
reggae-influenced "Forgive Them Father." Musicians include James Poyser
(keys), Grace Paradise (harp), Johari Newton (guitar), Chris Meredith
(bass), Dean Frasier (sax), Everol Ray (trumpet). Hill racked up ten
Grammy nominations and won five including Album of the Year.
By the way, if you've heard the rumor that she once said "I'd rather have my children starve than white people buy my album," there's no evidence to substantiate it. If you hadn't heard the
rumor, forget I even brought it up.
(DBW)
Hole, Live Through This (1994)
Courtney Love has a lot of talent, all right: too bad most of it is for self-promotion. The leader of this Seattle grunge
outfit can occasionally put together a solid lyric ("Doll Parts") and has an enviable Brian Johnson
yell, but she relies way too heavily on three pet themes - ambivalent reflections on beauty standards, getting sick, and
dying - and one arranging concept: alternating quiet and loud sections, which the band does on every single song, even
the punk rave-up "She Walks On Me." Kristen Pfaff on bass and Eric Erlandson on guitar (with Love) gamely repeat two- and
three-chord progressions with mild distortion; Patty Schemel plays a solid, original drum part on "Gutless," but spends
much of the album bashing on her kit apparently at random. At times it all sounds like Blondie
without the hooks or danceability ("Credit In The Straight World"). The musical and lyrical approach is so unvarying you might think you're
listening to the same song twelve times, the only variety being the repeated commonplace serving as a chorus: "Plump,"
"Miss World," "Jennifer's Body," "I Think That I Would Die" - I can't tell the goddamn difference. Cleanly produced by Paul
O. Holderine and Sean Slade; no listed guests, but Kat Bjelland co-wrote one tune. (DBW)
The Honeydogs, Everything, I Bet You (1996)
Minnesota's greatest Jewish alt-country band - no, really - got national attention with its minor-label sophomore album, jump-started by their superbly melodious, mid-tempo love song "Your Blue Door."
Lead vocalist/guitarist Adam Levy writes everything, and he's genuinely talented, delivering well-structured tunes, solid hooks, thoughtful lyrics, and just enough stylistic variety to keep things interesting.
The rest of the band has a raw, sincere sound, although they're a bit faceless (Noah Levy, drums and backing vocals; Trent Norton, bass; Tommy Borschied, lead guitar).
They've got a soft spot for slow-paced, dominantly acoustic, super-sincere country, which suits Adam Levy's warm, confessional baritone quite well ("Miles Away"; the dreamily waltzing instrumental "P'Twgs").
They even take a couple stabs at jumpy, chugging honky tonk ("Kandiyohi"; the clichéd "Busy Man").
It's pleasant, and they score with a series of sweet, innocent love songs (the aching "Bad Day, Good Night"; the old timey "Over You"; "Miriam," much like "Blue Door" and just as good).
And fortunately they mix things up with some surprisingly aggressive, Replacements-style college rock ("Glee") that reflects similar influences like the Rolling Stones (the foot-stomping "Tell Me") and Gram Parsons ("Moth").
One of the key alt-country records of the decade.
Co-produced by the band and Tom Herbers, with several incidental players like Jon Duncan (accordion, keyboards), Mike "Raz" Russell (fiddle), and John "Strawberry" Fields (wurlitzer).
I've never seen their 1995 debut, but I've seen them live. (JA)
The Honeydogs, Seen A Ghost (1997)
It's weird, Levy's talent is everywhere here but it just doesn't add up to much.
With more cash on hand he uses more elaborate production - there's a string quartet on several cuts (the pretty, stripped-down "Sweat Pea"); "Into Thin Air" has a Revolver-like psychedelic sound; and the respectable Replacements imitation "Twitch" is a little weird too.
But mostly it's the same kind of thing.
And talk about spinning gears: there's even an ill-advised rerecording of "My Blue Door" with the same basic arrangement.
There are some brisk, jangly tunes with catchy hooks ("Rumor Has It"; the late 70s English New Wave-style "Cut Me Loose, Napoleon"), they're fairly successful when they go back to their country-rock sound ("Those Things Are Hers"; the reverby, mellow title track; "Mainline," with a nice walking bass line), a few tunes create some drama ("Donna's 7"), and Levy's slashing rhythm guitar brings a Stones-y sound to some of the midtempo rockers ("Cherub"), while his witty, colorful, slightly morbid lyrics are intriguing.
But when they slow things down and throw in some sugar they practically sound like John Cougar ("I Miss You"), and the country tunes can be pretty generic ("Sans Sucre").
Good music to chill out by, but it's often just plain dull ("Old John Brown"), there are no real standout tracks, and basically the record is nothing special.
Co-produced again by the band and Tom Herbers.
Bit players include Fields, and on many tracks Duncan; Al Kooper shows up on two numbers as well.
I've also got 2001's overproduced Here's Luck, which is no improvement. (JA)
In Flames, Whoracle (1997)
Generally considered the high-water mark for this Gothenberg melodic death metal crew, with the menacing snarls, ferocity and precise riffing that define the mini-genre. Though there's no singing of actual notes, otherwise they cover a lot of territory, revving up to near-punk speed on "Morphing Into Primal," changing pace on the slow multi-part "Jester Script Transifigured," and using an unexpected amount of acoustic guitar (the closing title track).
They also make heavy use of harmonized lead guitars ("The Hive") in a manner reminiscent of The Scorpions - crap, am I gonna have to review them too? - inspiring successors such as Trivium.
So they have a lot of compelling elements, but the actual tunes are very dull and dry, with the best rising to the level of "adequate" ("Jotun"; "Episode 666"): song after song starts out with promise then goes nowhere ("Food For The Gods"). Oh, and I have no idea what they were getting at with their deafening cover of Depeche Mode's irritating "Everything Counts."
(DBW)
In From The Storm (1995)
Eddie Kramer put together an amazing lineup for this Jimi Hendrix tribute album: a melange of top guitarists
(Carlos Santana, John McLaughlin, Robben Ford, Steve Vai, Steve Lukather, Brian May), Hendrix associates (Noel Redding,
Buddy Miles, Billy Cox, Mike Finnegan), and highly respected non-rock musicians (Taj Mahal, Tony Williams, Stanley Clarke, Bootsy Collins, Toots Thielemans). Most tracks also feature the London Metropolitan
Orchestra, which sounds out of place even on the mellower tunes ("Have You Ever Been (To Electric Ladyland)") thanks to overly obtrusive
arrangements by (variously) Nick Ingman, Joe Mardin, Michael Kamen and Bernie Worrell.
The guitarists are mostly content to imitate Jimi's signature style, without adding much of their own personalities
(Vai is the most impressively lyrical). As a result, it's like listening to Jimi on an off day, with a bunch of noisy strings on top, and
unsurprisingly, the best track is the one with no guitars: Thielemans's affecting harmonica version of "Little Wing." Though it's a dull
listen overall, the disc indirectly reveals how underrated Hendrix is as a vocalist: the high-quality stand-ins - Paul Rodgers,
Corey Glover, Sting - fall short of Jimi's original vocal every single time.
(DBW)
Infectious Grooves, Sarsippius' Ark (1993)
This funk-metal outfit was a Suicidal Tendencies side project: frontman Mike Muir and bassist Robert Trujillo (who co-wrote all the tunes) plus temporary drummer Josh Freese were concurrently in ST, and rhythm guitarist Dean Pleasants joined up later, so only lead guitarist Adam Siegel was a true outsider. I get the feeling that the sole impetus behind the group was that Trujillo wanted to show off his formidable funk bass skills, because Muir doesn't have much to say ("Don't Stop, Spread The Jam!") and there's no real metal influence, just lots of guitar distortion ("Turtle Wax").
As a result, the sound is VERY close to the Red Hot Chili Peppers ("These Freaks Are Here To Party"), except that the recording quality is sketchy ("Infectious Grooves," cut to 8-track by an earlier lineup). There are two covers, and I don't know which is more damning: that they can't find anything interesting to do with "Immigrant Song,"
or that the straight-up take on "Fame" is the album's highlight.
Almost forgot to mention: nearly every track is prefaced by a longwinded, unfunny introduction by "Sarsippius," who sounds suspiciously like the Funky Granny, only far less entertaining ("Legend In His Own Mind (Ladies Love 'Sip)").
(DBW)
Infectious Grooves, Groove Family Cyco (1994)
If you're curious about the band, make sure you start here. The same basic approach as the previous disc, but it works eight million times better. First of all, most of the silliness is gone: no Sarsippius interludes, no lo-fi home recordings. The metal elements are baked-in, not pasted on, from the blastoff "Violent & Funky."
Trujillo's bass is as far-forward as ever, but this time there's something for him to play off of ("Boom Boom Boom").
Muir finds some content to sink his teeth into, with a loose concept about a family of lunatics (title track; the ultra-creepy, strangely affectionate spoken-word "Cousin Randy," which is almost in Les Claypool territory).
And the capper is a hilarious slap at/parody of Rage Against The Machine, "Do What I Tell Ya!"
Produced by Michael Vail Blum.
(DBW)
Inner City Blues: The Music Of Marvin Gaye (1995)
Tribute albums have a common set of problems: tackily "modern" updating of classic songs,
weak performances by flavors of their respective months, and Bono singing with a dead person.
This set steps right into all of those traps. Madonna's trance take on "I Want You" (with Massive Attack) is
sterile and dull; "good for you" rappers Digable Planets and Speech each get a track full of blathering ("Mavin, You're The Man," "Like
Marvin Said (What's Going On)"); and Bono embarasses himself (if such a thing is still possible) with an ex post facto duet with
Marvin on "Save The Children." Mostly the best work is by artists who stay close to Marvin's original approach: R&B crooners Boys II Men
doing "Let's Get It On"; Sounds Of Blackness in a gospelly medley of "God Is Love/Mercy Mercy Me." Marvin's daughter Nona Gaye gets the
plum title track (produced by Me'Shell NdegéOcello with Wendy & Lisa), but her performance
is drab. The set list focuses on Marvin's 70s work almost exclusively - fair enough, since he didn't write many of his 60s hits.
There's one redeeming, transcendent moment: Stevie Wonder's rollicking rendition of "Stubborn Kind Of Fellow"
(with For Real on backing vocals) not only outshines the original hit, it's more playful and energetic than anything
Stevie's cut in ages.
(DBW)
Joi, Star Kitty's Revenge (2002)
Joi is vaguely similar to Erykah Badu - high, thin voice; retro approach; outré presentation
- but on closer examination the differences outweigh the similarities: Joi relies heavily on electronic-sounding production, is much more interested in being wild and crazy ("Lick") than in projecting intelligence or depth,
and she's completely missing Badu's lyrical and melodic skills.
Dallas Austin serves up some of his usual high-tech backing without his usual taste: "Techno Pimp," with an overprocessed
rap, repetitive bass vamp, and squealing chorus, is perhaps the most annoying song I've ever heard,
"Mr. Neo-Soul" Rafael Saadiq co-produced and played guitar and bass on several tracks.
The genre-mandatory Chaka Khan cover is "I'm A Woman (I'm A Backbone)"; there's also a cover of Bootsy Collins' "Munchies For Your Love" that's deadly dull without
his epic bass solo.
"Missing You" has a nice middle, with bass and guitar by Van Hunt, but it's awfully little awfully late.
Joi's 1994 debut The Pendulum Vibe is supposed to be great... unless I find it real cheap I'm never going to find out.
(DBW)
Judgment Night (1993)
Soundtrack to a horror flick; the unoriginal idea here was to pair
hard rock/metal bands with rappers, which had been done years
before by UTFO and Public Enemy,
both working with Anthrax. None of those acts appear here, instead
there's a succession of well-known and obscure artists. Most often
the strategy is to rap over heavy metal backing: this is most
successful with Slayer and Ice-T on "Disorder," partly because the
band bangs out their hi-speed riffs with precision, partly because
Ice-T sounds comfortable here (at the time he fronted his own
hardcore band, Body Count). Also Living
Colour and Run-DMC mesh well on "Me,
Myself & My Microphone," plus Dinosaur Jr and Del The Funky
Homosapien crank out the catchy "Missing Link." The record's big
disappointment is Sonic Youth's
collaboration with Cypress Hill: the music is dull hip hop trance,
with only the occasional sonik guitar sound, and Kim repeating
herself like she's meditating on Valium, while the rappers create
yet another boring ode to marijuana. The rest of the tracks are
predictable: Biohazard and Onyx are violent
but dull, De La Soul is mellow and samples a crummy Tom Petty tune
("Fallin'"), House of Pain rants and whines, Sir Mix-A-Lot reports
his pornographic fantasies. Another Cypress Hill appearance, with
Pearl Jam, is a forgettable
bonus track. (DBW)
Lacuna Coil, Comalies (2002)
An Italian gothic metal band with female (Cristina Scabbia) and male (Andrea Ferro) lead singers, and high contrast between atmospheric keyboard and crunching guitar sections (courtesy of guitarists Cristiano Migliore and Marco Biazzi). If that makes you think of Evanescence, yes, they're pretty similar, though Lacuna Coil is heavier and makes more use of the guy singer. This was the band's third full-length (following two EPs), and the first single "Heaven's A Lie" mapped out their approach: Scabbia's high, clear chorus vocals acting as an antiseptic to Ferro's gruff, half-spoken verses, with tightly arranged ensemble parts and few solos.
Second single "Swamped" is in the same vein, though it's really carried by a cathartic, so-simple-it's-irresistable riff. Most of the tunes aren't as memorable, however, so the schtick gets old by the time the album is half-over ("Tight Rope") - by the end of the disc, I'd forgotten it was still playing, and that's not exactly the effect heavy metal is supposed to have. Produced by Waldemar Sorychta.
(DBW)
Lacuna Coil, Karmacode (2006)
Produced by Sorychta again, but the sound is louder and heavier, with less reliance on the trippy atmospheric stuff and more rocking out ("To The Edge"; "The Game"). Fine with me, as long as they can come up with enough revved-up riff tunes like "Fragile."
There's no one song as striking as "Swamped" but overall the disc is much more solid: though they've lost some of what made them stand out, the melodicism ("Closer") and Scabbia's cool, oddly detached vocals - metal's Deborah Harry? - still mark the band's territory.
And they find new ways to capture attention:
"Our Truth" and "You Create" sport Middle Eastern-sounding melismatic vocal hooks.
On the downside, drummer Criz Mozzati is one of the dullest metal musicians I've ever heard: he only knows one fill - four sixteenth note snare hits at the end of a phrase - which is the same lick the guy from Spin Doctors was always using. And you know what happened to them.
(DBW)
Phoebe Legere, Last Tango In Bubbleland (1997)
A broadly talented, idiosyncratic performer, Legere has a jaw-dropping
vocal range, plays everything from piano to guitar to accordion, and had
the guts to write an opera about a 300-pound woman who becomes US
president. Formerly contemptuous of artists who take the easy route
(see Mariah Carey), Legere has evidently
decided it's time to sell out: not only does the packaging play up her
blonde bombshell looks, the music is dull lowest common denominator
dance-pop. The attempts at humor fall flat ("Armageddon A Go Go," "You
Devil"), the inspirational numbers are embarrassing ("Amazing Love"),
the beats are rote ("Love Bubble"), the vocals are listless ("Madly"),
and for all her abilities, she can't seem to write a catchy tune to save
her life. There's a brief operatic snippet thrown on as a hidden track;
it's so much better than anything else on the disc it's more infuriating
than anything else. There may be more going on here than meets the ear, but
until I figure out what it is, I'm recommending you stay a mile away
from this release. Produced by Tristan Avakian. (DBW)
Lil Wayne, Tha Carter III (2008)
New Orleans-based Lil Wayne started out in Hot Boys (a rap trio which also produced Juvenile) in the late 90s, but soon went solo. His career got off to a slow start, but he broke through after some hit guest shots - including (Destiny's Child's "Soldier" - and followed up with a steady rain of official releases and mix tapes, all showcasing his wide range of vocal approaches. Wayne (born Dwayne Carter) refuses to stay in one bag, extending from hardcore street stories ("Shoot Me Down") to popwise seduction raps ("Tie My Hands," produced by Robin Thicke) and everything in between, while adapting his flow to match each style.
(Curiously, he's most engaging when his voice sounds most laid-back - almost strung-out - as on the playfully egomaniacal "I'm Me.")
Wayne's subject matter - his commercial success and sexual prowess, peppered with an occasional social comment ("Dontgetit") - is ordinary enough, but his rhymes are continually surprising ("A Milli").
And though he didn't produce any tracks himself, his kitchen sink approach clearly informs the multitude of offbeat, memorable productions here ("Comfortable," produced by Kanye West with a guest appearance by Babyface; Streetrunner's "Playing With Fire," with a chorus adapted from the Stones song and sung by Betty Wright).
Most of the elements are familiar - sped-up soul sample ("Stop! In The Name Of Love" on "Gossip"); vocoder ("Got Money") - but cleverly used: the smash single "Lollipop," based on a keyboard vamp and simple repeated vocal, is actually one of the less interesting cuts on the disc.
When it all comes together on one track, the effect is euphoric: Deezle Harrison's "Mrs. Officer," with its ironic subject matter, hilarious one-liners and gorgeous voice-imitating-a-siren hook, is my favorite song of 2008.
Lots of guests, from standard bearers (Jay-Z; Busta Rhymes) to upstarts (T-Pain; Static Major).
(DBW)
Machine Head, The Blackening (2007)
Oakland's Machine Head has been playing various kinds of heavy metal since 1992, and this time they combine elements from several subgenres rather than sticking to one. For example, the lengthy suite "Clenching The Fists Of Descent" - one of four nine-minute-plus tunes - has an acoustic opening, groove metal verses, death metal vocals, and a highly technical shred solo. Factoring in the anti-establishment lyrics, they're closer to Sepultura than anyone else I've heard. When the riffs are up to par (the anti-anti-metal Dimebag Darrell tribute "Aesthetics Of Hate"; "Wolves"), they're tough to beat; often, though, the individual licks are ordinary ("Beautiful Mourning"; "Now I Lay Thee Down"). So the record's good but not the masterpiece it's being hailed as.
Frontman Robb Flynn is the center of attention, writing most of the songs and playing most of the leads; Phil Demmel also plays lead (resulting in some spectacular duels), while the rhythm section of Adam Duce (bass) and Dave McClain (drums) is either brutal or chilled-out as the occasion demands.
I saw Machine Head opening for Lamb Of God early in 2007, and reviewed the show.
(DBW)
Maxwell, Urban Hang Suite (1996)
This debut album was a big hit, and people started proclaiming
unassuming young singer/songwriter/producer Maxwell the savior of romantic
R&B. As so often happens these days, the secret of Maxwell's success is
a good record collection: his slow, deliberate grooves mix programmed
drums with real live bass guitar, wah-wah (from none other than
Wah Wah Watson), and gentle crooning
recalling Al Green ("Whenever Wherever Whatever"). There's nothing original anywhere, and the melodies
and hooks are nothing special ("Sumthin' Sumthin'"). I can only think this record hit because
of the evocative lyrics celebrating seduction, romance and (gasp!)
commitment ("Suitelady"). But then, that symbol guy did the same thing better on disc
two of Emancipation, and
nobody paid any attention. Go figure. (DBW)
Sarah McLachlan, Fumbling Towards Ecstasy (1993)
A stereotypical singer/songwriter in some ways, with a pensive, allusive,
romance-focused approach and a voice that's two parts early Joni
Mitchell and one part Stevie Nicks, with a
little weird yodeling thrown in. Her lyrics are scattershot: clever
("Hold On"), damnably vague ("Circle"), direct ("Good Enough") or banal:
the title track sounds like someone doing her Affirmations. The basic
instrumentation is the usual postmodern
folkie mix of guitars, piano, drums and bass, but producer Pierre
Marchand adds lots of irritating gimmicks: backwards-sounding guitars,
distracting programmed drums (title track), embarrassing would-be dance
grooves ("Possession") - it works only on the revved-up, almost funky
"Circle." The acoustic version of "Possession" at the end of the album
just points up the overproduction everywhere else; the best tracks are
the ones Marchand mostly left alone, like the gentle "Ice Cream."
McLachlan's 1997 Surfacing was a big hit, and is most likely the
place to start with her. (DBW)
Natalie Merchant, Tigerlily (Merchant: 1995)
Cutting a solo album seems to have given ex-10,000 Maniacs frontwoman Natalie Merchant an opportunity to indulge all of her worst habits. None of the vocals on this slick yuppie rock record rise much above a whisper; her melodies are frequently elliptical ("River");
and a lot of the tracks run five minutes or more, with "I May Know The Word" taking her eight catatonic minutes to come up with "stop."
It's passable, though. There's some competent, mid-tempo rock ("Wonder"; "Jealousy"; "Carnival," which nods to 70s funk a la Santana or War).
On the faster songs the drumming has a hiphop flavor, and everything has a vivid, spartan acoustic sound that gives it some warmth and sincerity.
Guitarist/backup singer Jennifer Turner plays some creative, lightly distorted electric guitar leads (the grandiose, Elton John-style power ballad "Seven Years").
The catchiest tune ("San Andreas Fault") gets away with a hypo-mellow electric piano part and wordless chorus.
And when Merchant is concise (the piano ballad "The Letter") or hits on an actual tune
(the James Taylor-like "Beloved Wife"), her sentimentality works.
But unless you're in love with her unwaveringly wistful tone, you'll be lucky to keep yourself awake.
Merchant wrote everything and handled keyboards.
There's also Barrie Maguire (bass) and Peter Yanowitz (drums), and there are a half-dozen incidental players on percussion, violin, cello, and guitar.
Not produced; John Holbrook engineered and mixed. (JA)
Alanis Morissette, Jagged Little Pill (1995)
Basically, this record comes down to what you think of the line "Would she go down on you in a theater?" If that sounds like a gutsy sister being in-your-face and telling it like it is, you'll probably love (and probably already own) this album, and you won't be put off by the braindead drum loops, fourth-hand guitar licks or Morissette's grating yelps and gasps. If you think it's a sad example of self-exploitation and internalized sexism, well, you'll find a lot to dislike here. Her self-absorbed anger
("You Oughta Know") is really all she's got to share, so the love songs ("Head Over Feet") are hollow, and when she tries to get deep ("Hand In My Pocket," "Ironic") the results are unintentionally hilarious. There are a few good points: Lance Morrison's bass playing is vigorous and sometimes interesting; "Mary Jane" is a tender, if rambling, ballad; and a few of Morissette's vocal flights are ear-catching. And it's not her fault she doesn't know what the word
"ironic" means. But I object to excusing her weak writing because of her youth: for one thing,
most high school sophomores write better poetry in
their journals; for another,
check out the lyrics Janis Ian was writing when she was several years younger than Morissette - and she didn't have to rely on her producer to write her tunes for her. Producer/guitarist Glen Ballard cowrote every song on here; Flea is the only notable guest.
This debut won four Grammies, sold over 15 million copies, and is now the best-selling record ever by a female solo artist. (DBW)
Morphine, Cure For Pain (1993)
This three-piece rock band manages to cook up a unique sound, as Mark
Sandman's two-string bass, Dana Colley's baritone sax, and Jerome
Deupree's light jazz drumming team up to create a spare, sinister mood.
Sandman also writes the tunes, overdubs a little guitar and organ, and
sings the lyrics of quiet desperation (the sardonic "I'm Free Now," "In
Spite Of Me"). What could be an exercise in self-pitying angst becomes
cathartic and enjoyable thanks to consistently good hooks ("Buena,"
"Thursday," title track) and a refreshing lack of lengthy soloing. That
said, it's an emotionally limited approach, and there's very little
variation from song to song ("Sheila"). If you're chronically depressed
and want to stay that way, this could be the band for you. For everyone
else, this is pleasant to chill out by every once in a while, but
nothing to get addicted to. (DBW)
Mos Def, Black On Both Sides (1999)
Mos Def is a Brooklyn rapper focused on racism and the direction of hip hop culture - in the KRS-One tradition - who plays most of his own backing tracks on keyboards, bass and drums.
Unfortunately, most of his retro-soul grooves are overly simple and not gripping ("Love"), and his delivery is so dry and conversational
it's easy to tune him out. When he does use samples, it's no better:
"Ms. Fat Booty" is based on a vocal snippet from Aretha Franklin that's repeated so often
it becomes annoying.
"Rock N Roll" (produced by The Beatnuts' Psycho Les) starts as a verbal critique of Apartheid-Oriented Radio, and then
erupts into a post-punk rock noisefest, but it has the passionless feel of an academic exercise.
But for all the problems, there are still some blistering political lyrics
("Mathematics," a devastating collection of statistical evidence of institutional racism; "New World Water").
The omnipresent Busta Rhymes pops up on "Do It Now," and his energy is a welcome contrast to
Mos Def's low-key delivery; Talib Kweli appears on "Know That"; and Q-Tip guests on "Mr. Nigga,"
an antiracist screed that bizarrely cites OJ Simpson and Michael Jackson
as recent victims of discrimination.
Producers include Ali Shaheed Muhammed, Mr. Khaliyl, Etch-A-Sketch, Ge-ology, D-Prosper,
DJ Premier, Diamond, BB Keys, Ayatollah, 88 Keys and Mos Def himself, all of whom follow the same basic approach.
(DBW)
Music From And Inspired By The Hit TV Show Living Single (1997)
All together now: soundtrack albums are lame. Nine times out of ten, you
get a random assortment of artists disposing of tracks they didn't want
cluttering up their own albums. This effort fits the mold, though it's
slightly better than most, because the TV show stars the well-connected
Queen Latifah. Her one number, "Ladies Night
Out," is pleasant, with her usual female-positive good humor. Sandra St.
Victor (erstwhile Family Stand member and Paula
Abdul producer) contributes a remix of "Chocolate" featuring Yo Yo; it's amusing with a solid groove. But most
of the album is turned over to routine Babyface-inspired midtempo grinds by instantly
forgettable artists like Nadanuf, K-Ball and Deborah Williams; Dwayne
Wiggins, who can do much better, limps through "1-4-3 (Strawberry)." Then
there's Eric Benét's take on Stevie
Wonder's "Superwoman": he copies every vocal mannerism so closely
it's more like a remix - clichéd hip hop drums added - than a
cover version. Nonchalant serves up yet another hip hop version of Patrice Rushen's "Forget Me Nots," titled
"Until The Day." Which leaves it up to old schooler Chaka Khan to steal the show with her dramatic
vocals on the Prince-donated "Pain," which
also features Me'Shell Ndegéocello, saxman Joshua Redman and Wah Wah Watson. (DBW)
Music From And Inspired By The Hit TV Show The PJs (1999)
This soundtrack to the rapidly cancelled Eddie Murphy claymation sitcom went straight
into the bargain bin, despite the presence of a terrifying array of front-line hip hop talent: Snoop Dogg,
Raekwon, Jermaine Dupri & Da Brat, Raphael Saadiq and Q-Tip, etc.
But you have to suspect the artists knew the project was going to tank, because in nearly all cases they supplied
substandard tunes (Goodie Mob's "Hat Low"), and there are several "let my protegé do the work" collaborations:
R.O.C. is more audible on Dupri & Da Brat's "It's Nothing" than either of the headliners, Timbaland's
"Talkin' Trash" is a showcase for squeaky-voiced Bassy; Raekwon's dance-pop "Giant Size" mostly features the American Cream
Team. Then there are the artists that weren't much good to start with: Destiny's Child's "No More Rainy Days" is their
usual formulaic pseudo-soul; Sy Smith's "What I Am" (yes, based on that damn Edie Brickell song) is just about unlistenable.
The only pleasant surprise is the gently grooving "Here I Go" by Infamous Syndicate.
Cuts by two 70s funk vets, Earth Wind & Fire and George Clinton,
are ruined by trendy loop-based production (by Wyclef Jean and Quincy Jones III, respectively), but even there, the tunes
weren't much to start with. For me, the only worthwhile tracks are "Way 2 Strong" and "The Ghetto" by
Bizzy Bone and Krayzie Bone respectively, both lovely, subtle grooves produced by DJ U-Neek.
(DBW)
Mya, Moodring (2003)
DC-born Mya Harrison came to fame as a teenager in 1998, singing the hook on the Pras hit "Ghetto Superstar"... she
struck me as having a pretty voice but not much personality. Indeed, her voice isn't terribly distinctive, but it's flexible,
with an easy sensuality that's more striking the more you hear it. Mya co-wrote and co-produced most of this album, her
third, and it's a solid piece of work, mostly modern R&B but with plenty of other influences.
The opening "My Love Is Like... Wo" - produced with incidental vocals by Missy Elliott - is
catchy hip hop soul with Destiny's Child-like vocal harmonies. Rockwilder
produced the heavy electro-funk "Why You Gotta Look So Good?" with a rap by Lloyd Banks.
Mya also comes across with a fiery, horn-heavy funk tune ("Sophisticated Lady"), countering the retro R & B trend toward
downtempo fare.
Across the mix of styles, the album is given consistency by low-key but imaginative string arrangements by Ron
Fair (the tuneful ballad "Fallen"). The lyrics mostly deal with romance, but often from an atypical angle ("Late," about a missed period).
Not every tune is memorable, but by the time you get to Jimmy Jam/Terry Lewis ballad "Anatomy 1On1"
and the reggae "Things Come & Go" she's built up enough goodwill that you'll probably go with it.
The bonus track is a cover of Eugene McDaniels's bluesy "Compared To What";
there's also a bubblegum dance cover of Tom Petty's "Free Fallin'."
(DBW)
Me'Shell Ndegéocello, Peace Beyond Passion (1996)
On Ndegéocello's second album, she finds a schtick - simple, repetitive fusion/funk vamps with live instruments, performed
by jazz musicians - and sticks with it. The end result is easy listening funk: carefully produced tunes
("Ecclesiastes: Free My Heart") that simmer but never come to a boil, despite all the right retro elements (wah-wah, Rhodes)
The mellowness applies to her singing as well - she often half-speaks ("Mary Magdalene") and never seems to commit herself fully.
Couple that with unbearably pretentious lyrical concepts ("Leviticus: Faggot") and it's no surprise this album was better loved by
critics than by the general public.
There are some comforting, familiar hooks ("Deuterotomy: Niggerman," Bill Withers' "Who Is He And What Is He To You") which are entertaining if you're
not paying too much attention or don't have much background in soul music.
Ndegéocello played bass, some guitar and presumably keyboards; other players include Wah Wah
Watson and Wendy Melvoin (guitar), Joshua Redman (sax), Billy Preston
(organ), Oliver Gene Lake (drums), Federico Gonzalez Peña (Rhodes), Luis Conté (percussion). Produced by David Gamson.
(DBW)
Nicole, Make It Hot (1998)
The first release on Missy Elliott's Gold Mind label, and Elliott is everywhere: writing, rapping, and bringing
along other proteges (Mocha, Lil' Mo), to the point where it's hard to remember this is supposed to be Nicole's album. But Nicole is a legit
talent, with a fine voice - smooth, sly and commanding all at once - and she contributes lyrics to several songs (the lush love song "Nervous").
Timbaland produced the dense, smokey title track, co-written with
Elliott; the rest of the production is split between Elliott, Big Baby & Suga Mike, and Smokey (from Playa, another Virginia Beach act).
Brian Alexander Morgan contributes one track, the lovely spacey "I Can't See."
Missy's work ranks with her best - the ballads have bite ("Boy You Should Listen") and the funky hip hop grooves have soft underbellies ("In Da Streets")
- while the other producers stick to romantic R&B ("Silly Love Songs," "Testing Our Love").
Overlooked. Nicole was supposed to have another album in October 2001, Elektric Blue, but I guess it got lost in the
shuffle. I used to have a fan site URL, but I lost it; until I find it again, check out a few Yahoo clubs.
(DBW)
Nicole Renée (1998)
Nicole Renée is a young NY-based singer/songwriter who's a devastatingly accurate imitator of 80s Prince,
from the varispeeding and vocal inflections to the sexual metaphors ("Rockin' Chair," "Strawberry") to the extensive use
of wah-wah ("Cocaine Lane"). She produced and arranged almost every track, writing or co-writing everything to boot, and
she has a sure touch with sly funk ("Telephone"), synth ballads ("Sound Of Love"), and loud rock ("Rocking Chair") -
effortlessly melodic and memorable. Her lyrics are simple but heartfelt and often moving (the social lament "Ain't Nothing
Changed"). But it's all so derivative it's hard to fully enjoy - the most modern touches are subtle samples from 70s
artists like Grover Washington Jr., Rufus and the Isley Brothers.
I don't know how she got to be so well connected so quickly: outside talent involved with the project includes
Bernie Worrell, Will Calhoun, Lamont
Dozier, Will Lee, Vince Montana, Wah Wah Watson, and Doug Wimbish.
She's so good at so many things one has to hope she'll develop her own style; meanwhile,
if you are jonesing for Prince, put that D'Angelo dreck back on the
rack and pick this up. (DBW)
Oasis, Definitely Maybe (1994)
I can't endorse the critical consensus that these guys are Beatles imitators: lead singer Liam Gallagher's
nasal whine bears a passing resemblance to Lennon's voice, and there are
trippy retro touches here and there, that's all. Overall, Oasis is your
basic bad band - four-piece rock with the same approach on every song
(right down to the guitar distortion); trite, remarkably repetitive
lyrics ("Columbia"); medium-grade, unoriginal riffs ("Up In The Sky") -
they're imitating everybody. (For example, "Cigarettes & Alcohol"
is an unabashed ripoff of T. Rex's "Bang A Gong.") The group tacks on
one acoustic piece where guitarist/songwriter Noel Gallagher noodles
incessantly, showing he has no ideas on any kind of guitar. Rhythm section Paul Arthurs (rhythm guitar), Paul McGuigan (bass) and
Tony McCarroll (drums) isn't given much to do, so maybe it's not their
fault they sound anonymous and dull. Gallagher does do a fair job of
depicting adolescent confusion and solipsism (after "I," his favorite
word is "maybe"), and come up with a couple of passable, sentimental pop
songs: "Live Forever" and "Slide Away." He amplified both those areas on
their next release, (What's The Story) Morning Glory containing
the huge hit "Wonderwall," before the group started their slide into
obscurity. (DBW)
Oasis, (What's The Story) Morning Glory? (1995)
Noel Gallagher is totally in control again, writing everything and co-producing with Owen Morris.
Like before, he persistently mines 70s classic rock conventions as channeled by the Stone Roses, with a wall-of-noise approach - screaming guitars, soaring string quartet-style mellotrons - that conceals a distressing lack of depth.
Mostly it does work, though: the jangle-anthem "Roll With It" is harmless good fun; there's a bombastic, scarily on-target, imitation early 70s Paul McCartney epic ("Look Back In Anger"); Noel's lead guitar recalls early Led Zeppelin on the foot-stomping rocker "Morning Glory"; and the multi-tracked guitars on "Hey Now!" are downright thunderous - think Marc Bolan or even Joe Walsh.
But the track lengths are indulgent, the material is occasionally disposable (their mellow pop-rock ballad "Cast No Shadow"), and brother Liam's vocals are unbearable: he shows off a decent falsetto on the jokey, hand-clapping, Monkees-like cowboy tune "She's Electric," but his sneering distracts completely from their lumbering, but danceable big-deal hit "Wonderwall" (an extreme example of their Manchester beats-meets-the-Beatles formula).
Noel doesn't help with lyrics that range from dull and vague to flat-out embarassing (the tuneful power ballad/drug anthem "Champagne Supernova," with Paul Weller guesting on lead guitar).
The record makes it clear why the Gallaghers were the mid-90s kings of the Britpop movement, but it's fundamentally thin.
McCarroll was out, appearing here only on the churning hard rocker "Some Might Say," so the drummer is Alan White (apparently not that Alan White).
I also have their 1997 disc, which is much in the same vein: bombastic, retro, vocally painful, and occasionally a heck of a lot of fun. (JA)
Outkast, Aquemini (1998)
The third album by this Atlanta-based hip hop duo (Andre Benjamin and Big Boi) has been hailed as a masterpiece,
but I don't see it. The slick production - based largely on keyboards and drum programming, with some live instruments
and few samples - brings flexibility and some tunefulness to their midtempo grooves, and the rhymes are clever, although
neither has a particularly remarkable delivery. But it's so laid back it rarely generates excitement ("Rosa Parks," which
title aside is purely about partying) except on a couple of powerful tunes
like "West Savannah" and the title track. The trick of having Big Boi present gansta rap clichés followed by Benjamin's positive-minded
social comment on the same subject is clever, but it's overused: on the title track, "Da Art Of Storytellin'," and several
more. There's an endless stream of guest stars, which helps break up the monotony, but some of the appearances seem
ill-considered - George Clinton appears on "Synthesizer," but doesn't have anything to say and is barely audible
anyway; Erykah Badu fits in like a sore thumb on the
endless "Liberation." Other guests include Raekwon, and Witchdoctor (on the unusually lively
"Mamacita"). Overlong, overblown and overhyped, it's still an enjoyable record, and terrific in spots. Mostly produced by Outkast, with some help
from Organized Noize and others. (DBW)
Pain Of Salvation, Scarsick (2006)
Pain Of Salvation cut their first record in the mid-90s, not long after fellow progressive metal Swedes Opeth. But their loud sections aren't as loud as Opeth's, and the quiet parts aren't as quiet: they eschew both death metal (no Satanic growling) and acoustic folk, instead incorporating a wide range of synth and studio effects, as well as outside influences like rap ("Spitfall") and New Wave ("Disco Queen").
In fact, they sound quite a bit like neo-prog rockers Coheed And Cambria.
Daniel Gildenlöw is the main man - singing, playing lead guitar, writing all the songs and producing - and he's competent at all those roles but not brilliant in any of them.
The compositions change gears frequently ("America," with a heavy verse, a dinner theater chorus, and a silly banjo break) but apart from the thundering title track the individual sections aren't really gripping.
Wordwise, the album is a critique of US consumerism, often trite ("Cribcaged") though the occasional zinger hits home.
And the record does build up some steam toward the end, from the groovy syncopated riff on "Mrs. Modern Mother Mary" through the wah-wah-driven "Flame To The Moth," before going off the rails with the ten-minute bore "Enter Rain."
(DBW)
Pavement, Wowee Zowee (1995)
Not their best effort from what I've heard - 1997's Brighten The Corners is definitely better, while 1993's Westing (By Musket & Sextant) is almost unlistenable.
But the notorious indie rock band's fourth album does communicate their anarchic creativity and leader Steve Malkmus' knack for tossing off engaging melodies.
He often sticks with mellow, rough-hewn, low-volume indie rock that spotlights his conspiratorial vocals ("Motion Suggests"; the gorgeous "We Dance" and "Black Out") - his poor pitch control and talkiness strongly recall Lou Reed, although he's just got a better voice.
The record's got tons of problems; Malkmus often splices a good hook with random noisemaking ("At & T"), and there are several incoherent, drugged-out experimental numbers (the Dead-ish "Extradition"), dull ballads ("Fight This Generation"), and disorganized, noxiously noisy punk songs ("Serpentine Pad"; "Best Friends Arm").
They also get bogged down by layering piles of ringing, distorted, Sonic Youth-style guitars on almost everything ("Grounded"; the hypnotic mantra "Fight This Generation").
But there's plenty of the band's patented wackiness, with oddball electronic effects, quirky percussion, and retro electronic keyboard sounds ("Western Homes"); the overdriven Hüsker Dü punk thing works occasionally ("Flux = Rad"); there's some shambolic, but basically enjoyable rock ("Grave Architecture"; "Pueblo"; the Bob Mould-like "Kennel District"); and they shift gears for some sedate country ("Father To A Sister Of Thought") and a freaky, ear-blasting, 60s-flavored riff fest ("Half A Canyon").
And they do come up with one really memorable hard rock anthem ("Rattled By The Rush") and an irresistably goofy funk/folk rock groove ("Brinx Job").
An out-of-control, excessive record that still shines in places. (JA)
Liz Phair, Exile In Guyville (1993)
Hailing from Chicago, Liz Phair blends singer-songwriter introspection with low-fi indie production, but on
most songs the introspection doesn't add up to anything.
The tracks break down into three categories: energetic and driving full-band garage rock ("Never Said," "Help Me,
Mary"); morose and tuneless unaccompanied guitar-and-vocal numbers with fumbling electric guitar backing ("Glory," "Dance Of The Seven Veils");
and morose and tuneless full-band garage rock ("Soap Star Joe," "Divorce Song"). Unfortunately, the first category is heavily outweighed by the other two.
Phair's voice perpetually sounds like she's about to pass out from exhaustion, and by the end of the disc you may feel the same way.
Rock critics slobbered over this principally because of Phair's overt sexuality, which involves more double standards than I have time to get into at the moment.
But there's nothing revelatory about Phair's "I'm so ambivalent about guys and sex" schtick - "Fuck And Run" is no more
profound than Pat Benatar's similarly themed "Promises In The Dark," and much less fun.
Written and arranged by Phair; production and a variety of instruments by Brad Wood.
(DBW)
Playa, Cheers 2 U (1997)
The also-rans in Timbaland's Virgina Beach clique, this R&B vocal trio didn't find much success with their
only LP to date. Despite high-profile guests (Foxy Brown on "I Gotta Know") and six tracks produced by Timbaland, this is a wearying effort,
an endless succession of loop-based, midtempo grinds with no particular melody ("Everybody Wanna Luv Somebody"; title track, which bears a
strong resemblance to "I Can't Make You Love Me").
Missy "Misdemeanor" Elliott's one contribution is a standout ("Ms. Parker"), making inventive use of synthesized
noise; Aaliyah gets nothing to do on her guest shot, just adding undistinguished backing vocals to "One Man Woman."
Damningly, the best track is a two-minute a capella tossoff ("Gospel Interlude"), the only evidence on the disc that the Playas - Static
(who wrote most of the lyrics), Smokey (who produced several tracks), and Black - really can sing.
(DBW)
Porcupine Tree, Fear Of A Blank Planet (2007)
The brainchild of British producer Steven Wilson, Porcupine Tree started in the 90s as a studio-only mock band recording lengthy electronic soundscapes a la The Orb. But over the years - and after working with Opeth - Wilson moved in the direction of conventional song structures, rock instrumentation, and slightly less lengthy running times. What he ends up with here is modern prog rock - not unlike Coheed And Cambria - and to drive the point home he recruits Rush's Alex Lifeson to play guitar on the seventeen-minute "Anesthetize" (which later heads straight into heavy metal before a mellow Floyd-esque denouement).
When Wilson comes up with good hooks, he can pull terrific things out of them (title track). Many of the best sections come when he hews closest to traditional rock, though he also constructs a gripping finale with synth and orchestra on "Sleep Together."
At other times, though, he sticks too long with limited ideas ("My Ashes," with too-prominent organ), and the undersold vocals sound like an afterthought throughout ("Way Out Of Here").
(DBW)
Psycho Delicate, Love Songs For The Dysfunctional (1998)
I got this in the mail; they're a Harrisburg, PA quartet that piles clever, ironic lyrics (courtesy of bassist Mike Hoover) atop
straightforward, catchy, midvolume rockers with intricate production.
They don't stick with any one sound, ranging from "Peter Gunn"-style post-surf ("Nihilistic Girl") to psychedelia ("Liquid Sky") to funk
(the fade of "Puppet World"), frequently tongue-in-cheek, but the constants are enthusiastic performance, high-pitched backing vocals, and riff-filled songwriting.
There's such a profusion of hooks you don't mind that many of them sound just a tad familiar ("Zombie Of The Stratosphere").
Guitarist/keyboardist Tom Diecidue rides the waves, playing lots of enjoyable, economical solos and little fills; drummer Chris Bair seems
to never play the same thing twice (in a good way), while Hoover stays more in the background.
It seems like they made a point of using every production gimmick in the book, with sound effects (including the ever-popular "feet walking
away") and every guitar treatment you can imagine.
What really sets them apart, though, is the lyrics: often focusing on twisted love as the title indicates ("Lack Of Medication," "Stigmata"),
Hoover also finds time for pop-culture satire ("Drive-in Massacre," the Zappaesque mini-opera "Porno Movie").
The hidden track making fun of hidden tracks is just brilliant, though they spoil things a bit by including a subsequent
hidden track of their own.
"Secret weapon" Mike Strickler adds backing vocals, some guitar, and lead vocals on "She Melts In My Mouth"; Steph Diecidue, Lisa
Nesbit-Reuss and Dan Swift also add vocals.
And don't miss their home page, where Hoover explains that they spent so much money
on this record they'll never make a studio recording again. Hopefully he's just kidding.
(DBW)
Rachid, Prototype (1998)
The best 1998 pop or R&B record I've heard, but it got lost in the
shuffle because singer/songwriter Rachid doesn't fit into anybody's
format - some of the midtempo grooves recall Seal, but they're far
denser, with a bewildering profusion of musical styles including North
African tonalities ("Kiss & Tell," one of the few true dance tracks),
every variety of funk and R&B you can think of, and little touches of
rock and folk. The attention to detail is startling: the drum
programming seems to come out of a bottomless pit of sounds and rhythms,
and the arrangements continually surprise, with a slde guitar riff here,
a wah-wah'd keyboard there, a scratched sample somewhere else. But he's
never using artifice to disguise a lack of melody - every tune is
solidly hummable - he's just compulsively musical. His voice is a
combination of Corey Glover and Boyz II Men, and his intense theatricality holds your attention
despite the production tricks. The lyrics are relentlessly personal
("Ghostcalling," apparently a kissoff to his mostly absent father, Kool
& The Gang's Ronald Bell), with wordplay that's clever without being
cute, and jaundiced views of love that consistently ring true ("Evil,"
the single "Pride"). Though a lot of the disc simmers with rage (the
anti-record industry "Prodigal Pete"), Rachid takes time out for a
beautiful, melodic trance tune ("Charade") and an irresistable,
simpleminded anthem a la 80s Prince
("Zöe's World"). As a bonus track, he tacks on a lovely soul ballad
in French - I don't want to make a guess at the title. I couldn't find
much information about Rachid on the net - does anyone know of a decent
site? (DBW)
Rage Against The Machine (1992)
The debut of the phenomenally popular hardcore/nü-metal band. Vocalist Zack
de la Rocha sounds like he really wanted to be Chuck D, but he's not black, so he has
to settle for yelling his political lyrics over snarling speed
metal backing ("Killing In The Name"). He ends up with a bewildering mix of hip hop
clichés, repetitive gun/bullet metaphors, and occasionally
clever indictments of modern capitalist society and our compliance
with our own brainwashing ("Silence can be violent/Sorta like a
slit wrist"). Since he's so angry about so many things, he rarely
stays focused, shifting from topic to topic within each song, but
there are a f |
