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 REVIEWS BY JASON ANDERSON, STUART BERMAN, MIKE DOHERTY, HOWARD DRUCKMAN, KIERAN GRANT, KEVIN HAINEY, PAUL ISAACS, LIISA LADOUCEUR, ANDRE MAYER, JOEL MCCONVEY, JOSHUA OSTROFF, RYAN WATSON
Click here for Dapp Theory CD Review
Everything to Everyone Reprise
It's so not a good sign when a band paraphrases a line from the
Vanilla Ice flick Cool As Ice for their opening lyric -- not
to mention that rhyming zero and hero is pretty lazy. But the
Barenaked Ladies' latest is almost as forgettable as that film, so
maybe they're being all meta and shit. BNL have succeeded down South
because they know their way around a hook. But instead of the
heartfelt and quirky pop we've come to expect, the newly "mature"
band just tossed together some James Taylor strumming, sub-Matthew
Sweet dark-romanticism and half-hearted wordplay. Their title may be
ironic, but that still doesn't make the album much of anything to
anyone. JO
Still in Rome French Kiss/MapleNationwide
Jordon Zadorozny should be a real blinking star by now: he's got
friends in high places, he can write an incredible hook and he gets
tonnes of publicity from having worked with Courtney Love. Too bad
the Pembroke/Montreal/LA songwriter never puts out a good record.
Blinker the Star's fourth album starts out great: faux Foo Fighters
guitar rock, all full-throttle fuzz and happy sing-along choruses.
This lasts about two and a half songs before Jordon morphs into Mark
Holmes fused with Joe Jackson. Flaky closer "What Have I Been
Waiting For?" is a waste of guests Lindsay Buckingham and Tool's
Paul D'Amour. LL
The Remixes Columbia/Sony
A remix is an opportunity to recast a song in a more stimulating
form, and in theory, even an insufferable Mariah Carey ballad could
be fashioned into something extraordinary. Judging by this two-disc
collection of major-label-sanctioned remixes, it remains only a
theory. Populist remixes have a habit of reducing any song to an
aerobics-studio anthem, which must be why most of the songs on disc
one sound like "Vogue." Disc two juxtaposes Carey's sugar-sweet
cooing with foul-mouthed bravado. The results are regrettable:
Ludacris and Da Brat trade farcically crude barbs on "Loverboy"
while Ol' Dirty Bastard verbally shits all over a"Fantasy." I'm all
for freaky pop experiments, but these joints neither enhance nor
amply subvert Carey's art. AM
Rhino/Warner
Yes, it is very sad that George Harrison died, since he was like
the third-best Beatle and a far better Wilbury than, well, Jeff
Lynne. But does this make a 23-minute Ravi Shankar song performed by
daughter Anoushka any more palatable? Nope. Thankfully, the second
disc of this live tribute album skips the spirituality 'n' sitars
and lets Harrison's pals (Paul, Ringo, Clapton, Petty, etc.) get
their mourning out by covering his best songs. As one might expect,
the greatest catharsis comes on the immortal "While My Guitar Gently
Weeps," but to be honest, if you're a big enough fan to want this,
just go get the DVD -- it has Monty Python on it. JO
The Deepest End: Live in Concert ATO
Mules are known for their endurance, and this past May, Warren
Haynes (guitar), Matt Abts (drums) and Danny Louis (keys) took the
stage for five hours in New Orleans with a small army of bassists
and other instrumentalists, to celebrate late bassist Allen Woody.
The whole marathon (plus interviews) is reproduced here on two CDs
and a DVD; it's a musical variety show par excellence. Despite the
Mule's background as a jam band, their Southern funk-rock-blues
workouts are surprisingly focused, and guests from Bernie Worrell to
Les Claypool to the Dirty Dozen Brass Band fit in perfectly,
reminding us that mules are also known for miscegenation. MD
Dead Man Shake Fat Possum
Come Feel Me Tremble Vagrant/Universal
The difference between Paul Westerberg and his Grandpaboy alter
ego has always been somewhat negligible, like the difference between
three beers and six. With Dead Man Shake, however, Grandpaboy
ups the intake to a two-four. Like the opening title track to The
Replacements' 1983 album Hootenanny, the new album is a
cruddily recorded sloppy-drunk blues goof that's funny for about two
minutes -- except this one's stretched out for another 44. Only on
the Lou Reedish romp "Vampires & Failures" does Gramps show
himself to be anything more than a last-call clean-up act.
To confuse matters further, when Westerberg goes back to being
Paul Westerberg on Come Feel Me Tremble, the results veer
closer to the frazzled pop spirit of Grandpaboy's fine 2002 disc,
Mono, than Westerberg's more subdued, simultaneously released
counterpart, Stereo. Which is to say Paulie's a little wobbly
on his feet, but can still score more than a few direct hits to the
heart: the two radically different versions of the suicide tale
"Crackle & Drag" reaffirm Westerberg's unwavering knack for both
ragged rock 'n' roll drama and candid acoustic elegies. The closing
cover of Jackson Browne's shoulda-woulda-coulda lament "These Days"
simply underscores the fact that Westerberg is more affecting when's
purging his blues than singing them. SB
Afterglow Nettwerk
It took Sarah McLachlan six years to make a record that sounds
exactly like her last one. Within moments, she's already talking
about heaven and fire, singing a familiar melody in that rich, warm
voice that has sold 22 million records worldwide. So much has
happened to Sarah since 1997's Surfacing (she lost her
mother, then became one), but Afterglow reveals no new
insights. The 10 tracks are based more in piano than acoustic
guitar, and feature more string orchestration than before: not
exactly killer on first listen. Yet still she is honest, earthy and
a believer in the power of love. A beautiful singer holding
steadfast to what made her famous. LIISA LADOUCEUR
She Who Dwells in the Secret Place of the Most High Shall
Abide Under the Shadow of the Almighty Vanguard
Let's face it: Sinéad O'Connor singing "Chiquitita" is like Ralph
Fiennes starring in a Grade 2 nativity play. O'Connor may have the
voice of a shivering angel, but she's never been known for her
quality control. Accordingly, this collection (one disc of
unreleased tracks and one of live material) includes covers and
originals both sappy and, ahem, hair-raising. The concert is
powerful on the whole, and there's the occasional gem on the studio
disc, including the ghostly Massive Attack demo "Love Is Ours."
O'Connor claims she's quitting the music industry; if she actually
follows through this time, this set is a fittingly baffling
send-off. MD
Changes Sanctuary/EMI
Sorry to disappoint, but this isn't a new Kelly Osbourne record,
just a revamped re-release of 2002's Shut Up, her sprightly
but unsightly Avril-does-Daisy Chainsaw debut. As a kind of My
First Punk Album for seven-year-old girls, Changes
succeeds admirably: it's full of bratty, catchy bubblegum
("Disconnected," "Contradiction"), Kelly's voice has character and
the lyrics won't offend the sternest of Midwestern moms. Even
"Coolhead," an ode to PMS, is more instructive than destructive.
Less successful are the bonus tracks: a lame, rocked-up "Papa Don't
Preach"; four dire live recordings; and a projectile vomit-inducing
duet with dad, on Black Sabbath's lighter-waving anthem "Changes."
Perhaps Alice Cooper's "Only Women Bleed" would have been a better
choice. PI
Try This BMG
When last seen, Pink was scoring some grudging critical praise,
but suddenly realizing "best pop tart" is a questionable compliment,
she needed a cred-record. So for Try This, Pink re-hired 4
Non Blondes' Linda Perry, scored a Peaches cameo and turned the bulk
of the record over to Rancid's Tim Armstrong. She practically pulls
off her desired transformation into rock goddess with hook-heavy
songs (like "Trouble" and the '80s-indebted "Humble Neighborhoods")
that explode like Pop Rocks. Alas, she doesn't, or can't, maintain
this level of quality and the record runs aground on shallow
balladry and bombast. Pink really wants to be Joan Jett; it's a
shame she settled for Pat Benetar. JO
Animals Should Not Try to Act Like People EP
Interscope/Universal
Primus is like beef -- no matter how you prepare it, it always
ends up tasting like beef. Their previous album, 1999's
Antipop, tried to shake off Primus' complex confines and
widen their teenage appeal with mediocre results. Thankfully, this
EP (packaged with a videos-compilation DVD) reunites the original
lineup for a five-song dose of prog-heavy backwoods funk-metal with
all the bizarre humour and strange pretensions a fan could want.
"The Carpenter and the Dainty Bride" is as surefire a crowd-pleaser
as "Those Damned Blue-Collar Tweekers," "Pilcher's Squad" is as
close to Residents and They Might Be Giants territory as ever, and
"My Friend Fats" lets their dark, Tool-ish tendencies run wild. Yep,
Primus sucks -- but that's what makes them so damned fun. KH
Primus play Kool Haus Nov. 23.
Rush in Rio Anthem/Universal
Messrs. Lee, Lifeson and Peart weren't planning on issuing
another live album -- after all, they already have four in the
catalogue, and really, how many different live takes of "Limelight"
does an intransigent Rush fan need? The band was so moved by a 2002
show in Brazil, however, that they decided to release it. Disc one
demonstrates why: chanting every single lyric to mid-period faves
like "Free Will," "Tom Sawyer" and "Distant Early Warning," the
crowd of 60,000 overwhelmed Geddy Lee's vocals. Disc two is
dedicated to blander recent cuts, while disc three digs deep into
the vault ("La Villa Strangiato," "Working Man"). Two things you can
rely on with a Rush concert album: impeccable sound and zero
spontaneity. This Rio date is no different. The only surprise is the
cover art -- depicting an oversized pterodactyl with a Carmen
Miranda fruit hat, it's unexpectedly tasteless. AM
SHUSHAN the Palace (Hymns of the Earth) Sheeba
Like a musical Martha Stewart (whom she somewhat resembles, don't
you think?), our lovely Jane Siberry cherishes Good Things. This
collection of traditional holiday classics is a gift for modern
listeners seeking an olde tyme soundtrack for wreath-making and
cookie-baking. SHUSHAN continues and combines the idea of
Siberry's recent discs Child (Christmas music) and
Hush (spirituals), by covering holy- or holly-themed classics
by Handel, Bach and others. Most are gorgeous and harmonious ("In
the Bleak Midwinter") with full orchestration -- including piccolo.
But Siberry's ambitious vocal arrangements are at times uneasy
listening, of interest perhaps to early-music fans but otherwise
detracting from SHUSHAN's magic. Still, if the mere title
"Break Forth O Beauteous Heavenly Light" makes you swoon, this is
for you. LL
Sacred Love A&M/Universal
Gordon Sumner is constantly vilified for his pretension, but his
detractors are misguided: it's only when he tries his hand at
anything remotely blue-collar that he loses his sting. The former
working-class boy from Newcastle sounds convincing on Sacred
Love's reflective, dreamlike and poetic moments. On the other
hand, the straight-ahead rock, soul and (shudder) Eurodance is the
overwrought work of a man who should know better. There's something
endearing about Sting's desire to be all things to all people, but
the sons of milkmen should never grow up to be cheese merchants.
MD
Must I Paint You a Picture? The Essential Billy Bragg
Outside
He'll be primarily remembered for mixing pop and politics, but if
this retrospective makes one grand statement on Billy Bragg's
20-year discography, it's that it is as much about affairs of the
heart as it is about socialism of the heart. From the get-go, 1983's
raw gem "A New England," the electric troubadour switches off
between rally-ready anthems and darkly witty odes to relations of a
far more personal kind. Bragg's never more convincing than when he's
on about getting his heart crushed. On the down side, the double
disc's comprehensive and sincere 50-song overview means you get some
lumps with the cream. The stark, solitary delivery of his early days
stands up sturdily and the quality of disc one is more consistent.
But while the latter-day Bragg works best when there's an assignment
(namely the Woody Guthrie "co-writes" of the Mermaid Avenue
albums), disc two reintroduces a few solid '90s tracks. As a career
catch-all, this set is recommended. KG
High Winds White Sky After more than 30 years of recording with indisputable
songwriting skills, impeccable guitar chops, unassailable intent and
professorial charm, who better to receive a deluxe reissue series
than Bruce Cockburn? These three find him at distinctive points in a
varied career.
High Winds White Sky (1971) has its dated hippie moments:
the daughter of the stars turns up; the acoustic fingerpicking don't
let up; the imagery is pastoral, cross-legged, palms-up. His early
try at funky 12-bar piano, "Golden Serpent Blues," is almost
embarrassingly stiff, with reach exceeding grasp. Still, "Let Us Go
Laughing" and "Love Song" remain timeless, true and welcome in any
era.
Humans (1980) offers a newly politicized, righteously
raging Cockburn -- one who's learned to shout -- with "Grim
Travellers" really laying it on the stick. Unlike many
former-folkies-gone-worldbeat, Cockburn is among a handful of
Caucasians who've managed to play reggae with an authentic feel, as
in the spiritually optimistic hit "Rumours of Glory." The single
"Tokyo" insinuates itself with low-key charm, and "Fascist
Architecture," a hymn to the struggle for his own essential
humanity, is one of the greatest songs in Cockburn's oeuvre. Pity
about some of the dated instrumental textures.
Those '80s sounds also haunt Stealing Fire (1984), an
album informed by Cockburn's South American travels. It's widely
remembered for "If I Had A Rocket Launcher," his infamous rant
against helicopter attacks that occurred while he visited a refugee
camp in Mexico. It also boasts "Lovers in a Dangerous Time," still a
great song. With "Nicaragua" Cockburn managed to turn specific
political imagery into a song that sounds and feels as natural as
any he's created. That's a rare gift.
The bonus tracks are pretty pedestrian, except for two live takes
from High Winds, which document a very young Cockburn in what
sounds like a tiny coffeehouse. Very cool. HD
Bruce Cockburn plays Convocation Hall Nov. 29.
Lost Sides EMI
Doves' contribution to the odd 'n' sods sub-genre hangs together
better than many collections of this sort, mainly because the
Mancunian trio's exploratory approach has provided deep runoff of
usable doodles. Originally issued in 2000 as a UK limited edition,
the disc has enough of Doves' characteristic grandiosity to feel
like an album in its own right -- albeit one that lacks the
dimension and shadows of Lost Souls and The Last
Broadcast. Curios include a reworking of "Werewolves of London,"
and an effective nod at The Wicker Man soundtrack on
"Willow's Song." Still, as B-side comps go, there's surprisingly
little fucking around here. KG
Kites Are Fun This '60s harmony-pop group's influence on Stereolab and
Cornelius will be immediately apparent to anyone who hears these
smartly packaged reissues of The Free Design's first and third
albums. Recorded in 1967 by siblings Chris, Bruce and Sandy Dedrick
(sister Ellen joined shortly thereafter), Kites Are Fun is a
work of such delicacy and wonder that not even the dippiest lyrics
or uncool cover selections can befoul its charms. The Dedricks'
music is an unfairly neglected nexus of The Mamas and the Papas'
close vocal harmonies, Antonio Carlos Jobim's melodic sophistication
and Esquivel's sonic playfulness. Kites Are Fun stands with
The Beach Boys' Pet Sounds and The Zombies' Odessey &
Oracle as one of the era's most epiphanic pop discs. Only
marginally less delightful is 1969's Heaven/Earth, which
features a version of "If I Were a Carpenter" so achingly lovely, it
could've made Johnny Cash blubber. JA
The Best of Guided by Voices: Human Amusements at Hourly Rates
Most songwriters dream of writing enough great songs to fill one
box set; Bob Pollard's on his third. In fact, the Guided by Voices
guru is such a devout musicologist and ceaselessly prolific writer,
it's almost as if he writes songs just so that he can put out box
sets.
For 15 years, he's been breaking down the totality of British
art-rock -- from The Beatles to Genesis to Wire -- into pieces of a
puzzle that is both astonishing in its breadth and daunting in its
disregard of whether those pieces form a coherent picture.
Fortunately, for the easily intimidated, Pollard separates his
diamonds from the coal on Human Amusements at Hourly Rates a
near-perfect, single-disc set that's essentially the indie-rock
answer to The Beatles' 1(though with source material this
vast, personal faves are bound to be omitted). But this 32-song
career overview constitutes just the first chapter of Hardcore
UFOs, a six-disc boxed behemoth that, as the title implies,
exists for the most die-hard space cases.
Unlike 2001's closet-clearing Suitcase box, this 129-song
set is divided into logical subsets: an extensive B-sides and
obscurities round-up (amazing that a song as pristine as "My
Thoughts Are a Gas" was buried on an old Matador comp), a
faith-testing disc of unreleased ephemera (worth trudging through
for the raw demo of "Portable Men's Society"), a live compilation
that captures GBV at their Budweisered best/worst (including a
triumphant "My Impression Now") and a re-release of the band's
way-out-of-print 1986 debut, Forever Since Breakfast(whose
REM-ish post-punky pop feels oddly poised compared to the lo-fi
lunacy that followed). Want more? There's a DVD featuring Bank
Tarvers' bittersweet GBV doc, Watch Me Jumpstart, live
footage and all of the band's videos.
As Pollard insists in Jumpstart, he can write five songs
while taking a dump, "and three of them will be good." This is the
cream of the crap. STUART BERMAN
Guided by Voices play The Opera House Nov. 14.
Lost Dogs Epic/Sony
Some advice for the PJs: the next time you're finalizing the
tracklist for an album, just take all the songs that didn't make the
cut and put those out instead. The two-disc miscellany set Lost
Dogs could be the former grunge gods' most consistently
rewarding album since 1994's Vitalogy. It's a surprisingly
digestible 30-song, career-spanning round-up of familiar compilation
tracks ("Last Kiss"), unreleased fan faves ("Yellow Ledbetter") and,
yes, some god-awful embarrassments (the asinine Kareem Abdul-Jabbar
tribute "Sweet Lew"). Even on their outtakes, Pearl Jam are too
poised to ever really go off the deep end, but Lost Dogs is a
testament to the band's sly sense of humour and their loose
interplay -- i.e., the very things that Creed ignored.
SB
The Best of R E M: In Time 1988-2003 Warner
In Time, a best-of spanning the Warner years, demonstrates
just how well R.E.M. have evolved since changing American music with
their first five records. It's loosely divided into three groups:
one third is devoted to soundtrack contributions and requisite new
tracks (including "Bad Day," a kissing cousin to "It's the End of
the World As We Know It"); another to jovial, enigmatic pure pop
("Stand," "What's the Frequency Kenneth"); while the final third
posits R.E.M. as one of the all-time greats ("E-Bow The Letter,"
"Losing My Religion," "At My Most Beautiful," "Nightswimming" --
four of the most sublime songs of the past two decades). By making a
strong case in favour of their second stage besting their historic
first, In Time is an amazing achievement. RW
Marquee Moon They helped turn CBGB from a shithole into a legendary shithole,
but for Television, punk wasn't a matter of aesthetics as much as
ethics. The Pistols screamed "No future," but Television made music
with no past, severing rock 'n' roll from its time-honoured blues
vocabulary and developing a new six-string language that was as
lyrical as it was fractured. The band's evergreen 1977 debut,
Marquee Moon -- repackaged here to include their 1975 single,
"Little Johnny Jewel," which was post-punk before punk even existed
-- paints dead-end East Village alleys as portals to nocturnal
fantasias ("Hey man let's dress up like cops / Think of what we
could do!"), and the title track's extended instrumental suite
remains the only guitar solo in rock you need to experience again
and again, because it actually serves the narrative arc of the song,
rather than the egos of the players. Adventure (1978) is
Television fine-tuned: clearer focus, smoother sound, fewer
possibilities -- the alien dialect of Marquee Moon translated
into everyday parlance. But somewhere out there, in an alternate
universe, the boogie-riffic "Ain't That Nothin'" has just beaten
KISS' "Christeen Sixteen" on a classic-rock radio countdown.
SB
Anthology 1992-2002 V2
Time flies when you're dancing. One minute you're hearing
"Cowgirl" for the first time at Limelight. Blink, then it's a decade
later and you're staring at a two-disc Underworld anthology.
1992-2002 traces the trance-makers' trajectory from 12-inch
vinyl to Hollywood hype and back again. All the hits are here
("MMMMskyscraper I Love You," "Born Slippy"), but they appear in
previously unreleased or rarely heard versions, most of them dark
and long. Beginning with two "new" instrumental gems from 1992,
"Bigmouth" and "Dirty," it gathers much momentum and complexity
along the way. Hardcore collectors will have most of this already,
but even fans with all the studio records will hear lots of new
music. LL
Mr. Bones' Walk-in Closet weewerk
Ah, kids are so impressionable. Luckily these three
high-schoolers have their hairless fingers on the right pulses. The
second delightful album from Jenny, Geordie and Johnny once again
finds them using their youthful innocence to their advantage (by
keeping it simple, stupid!), but trades in their sugary art-punk
licks for rugged butt-folk arrangements (and wildly impressive
lyrics) that sound a helluva lot like their weathered friends, Royal
City. Admittedly, it's a bit strange to hear chirpy teenagers
singing downtrodden existential laments, but this oddness only adds
to the album's overall appeal. Mr. Bones exhibits worldly
intuition and musical skill far beyond the Brothers' years; whether
or not they stole it doesn't matter. The Barmitzvah Brothers have
crashed the right party. KH
The Barmitzvah Brothers play The Rivoli Nov. 13.
Volume 1 Break Glass
Draped in ethereal atmospherics, skeletal guitar lines and vocals
transmitted from a parallel dimension, Montreal's Besnard Lakes
sound like a band caught between this world and the afterworld --
never mind post-rock, this is ghost rock. But it's not just a
superior production job they have going for them: Volume 1
would be just as chilling played on a banjo and a set of spoons. Of
course, the sonic coating certainly does justice to standouts like
"For Spy Turned Musician" (a miasmic slice of Chapterhouse-esque
pop), and the spiritual ascension of "Life Rarely Begins with
Tungsten Film #1," which suggests that if the Lakes are stuck in
some kind of limbo, they're shooting for deliverance up to the
heavens. RW
...And This Is Our Music Tee Pee
If there's been a constant in The Brian Jonestown Massacre's
tumultuous 11-year, nine-album existence, it's been head priest
Anton Newcombe's attempts to reconcile psychedelia's summer-of-love
promise with its Manson/Altamont aftermath, and in doing so, address
the tender/violent impulses of his own psyche. ...And This is Our
Music begins in suitably antagonistic fashion, with a voicemail
from an ex-girlfriend screaming "Fuck you Anton!" But it quickly
establishes itself as BJM's most ambitious set since 1996's Their
Satanic Majesties' Second Request, melting down lysergic
acoustic lullabies, graceful orchestrations and reverberating
electro-sonics into a long-lasting hit of head music. SB
The Brian Jonestown Massacre play The Silver Dollar Nov.
18. Also at Soundscapes Nov. 18 at 6pm.
Amorino Instinct
On what is effectively her third solo album (the previous two
were released under the Gentle Waves banner), spotlight-shy ex-Belle
& Sebastian member Isobel Campbell fully assumes the role of
eclectic chanteuse, coming on as a sort of airy, Scottish Françoise
Hardy. Potentially pretentious touches such as harpsichord, French
poetry -- she gets both out of the way early on the opening title
track -- and lush orchestration are actually a delightful fit for
her songs, with treatments that breeze across bossa nova, Dixieland,
chamber pop and jazz instrumentals. If Campbell's wisp of a voice is
hardly commanding enough to win new converts on its own, this lovely
and fully realized album just might be. KG
Sinistresound/FusionIII
I'm confused. Not only by this Montreal singer/guitarist's
unnecessarily cryptic name, but by what exactly she's going for.
There's a slight offbeat groove to her debut, but she stops short of
making a sound of her own. ELE_K* sings nice (like a jazzy Holly
McNarland) and also plays glockenspiel, but it's tacked on to
otherwise ordinary CHR tunes with unmemorable choruses about the
young and the restless. A few lyrical images stick ("mix tapes I
can't throw out"), but overall the buzz on this disc -- possibly due
to guests from Broken Social Scene, Bran Van 3000 and Ramasutra --
is slightly inflated. LL
The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place Temporary
Residence/Sonic Unyon
It's more of the same on the third album from these Austin
instrumentalists, but that isn't a bad thing. For all the Mogwai and
Godspeed comparisons, Explosions in the Sky have developed a more or
less unique formula; they don't bother noodling around with
electronic geekery, preferring to explore the upper limits of their
traditional rock equipment in pretty, sprawling sonic vistas.
There's not as much variation here as on 2001's Those Who Tell
the Truth..., but EITS is about making moments more than songs,
and the five airy, propulsive suites on The Earth have enough
heart-stopping changes and sweeping builds to carry the record
beyond the ordinary. JM
Explosions in the Sky play Lee's Palace Nov. 15 at
7pm.
Now, More Than Ever Three Gut/Outside
Royal City guitar-slinger Guthrie titled his 2001 solo debut
1000 Songs -- whether those songs were real or imagined, it
spoke of an artist in the throes of boundless inspiration. That same
sense of awe still pervades Guthrie's third album; he's just
harnessed it into a perfect 10, routing the left-field pastoral pop
of Jim O'Rourke and Gorky's Zygotic Mynci to the cozily familiar
confines of a Highway 401 truckstop. But while the voice is
undeniably Jim's, Now, More Than Ever is truly an ensemble
piece, with Guthrie's surreal musings and gentle picking propelled
to wondrous heights by drummer Evan Clarke's nimble stick-work and,
most crucially, violinist Owen Pallett and cellist Mike Olsen's
string-slashing, ornate and anarchic in equal measures. He may have
given Three Gut Records their name, but this is where Guthrie makes
one for himself. STUART BERMAN
Overcoat
As a Vancouverite with a deep love of power-pop and a barrelful
of indie cred, Jason Zumpano should by all rights be a member of The
New Pornographers. But no, that would be confusing him with Carl
Newman, who was also in the band that bore Jason's surname and
released two discs on Sub Pop in the '90s. With his new group
Sparrow, Zumpano foregoes The New Pornographers' exuberance in
favour of a more melancholy mood. The songs hew closely to territory
explored by Eric Matthews, Richard Davies and especially Ben Folds
during the brief '90s vogue for "ork-pop" (gee, I wonder why that
term never caught on). Sparrow's music is pretty but rarely
remarkable and the awkwardness of the album's sole uptempo number,
"Shine Bright O Morning," makes me long for the manic pop thrills
offered by Newman's crew. JA
Ghosts of the Great Highway Jetset
With his latest three-word alias, former Red House Painter Mark
Kozelek not only bears as strong a vocal similarity to Neil Young,
but follows more of a CSNY template where acoustic country-folk --
brighter and more tuneful than RHP's mood of late-night desolation
-- alternates with primitive rock grinds (including the anthemic
"Salvador Sanchez," which recalls Neil's ragged, glorious electric
jams). Yet his debut as Sun Kil Moon stands as essentially another
RHP record, with Kozelek's wounded warble delivering sentimental
musings and weary yearning that possess the uncanny ability to melt
away defences and get you where you live. Boasting consistently
sparkling songcraft throughout, this may be Kozelek's finest work
since the Painters' debut. RW
Only With Laughter Can You Win Sub Pop/Warner
Pretty acoustic guitar and piano-based girlie music from
sensitive Detroit singer/songwriter in stripy pink tights. Gentle
ballads touch pop, folk and indie traditions, mixing, for example,
Celtic-tinged melodies with quirky glockenspiel. Call it AC for cool
kids. Rosie's voice is warm, on the most robust tracks resembling a
humbler Sarah McLachlan. Six members of the Thomas family sing
backups on the inspirational "I Play Music," but it's nowhere near
the elevator pap of family vocal groups like the Rankins. Well
recorded in churches and "papa's home" for intimate bedroom
listening on snowy Sundays. LL
Rosie Thomas plays the El Mocambo Nov. 14.
Today Is the Day EP Matador
After mellowing our minds a bit too effectively with this year's
Summer Sun, Hoboken's fines roll their amps up next to our
sleepy heads and unleash the audio equivalent of a flashlight blast
to the face, reworking the lounge-pop whisper of Sun's "Today
Is the Day" into a chainsaw howl. "Style of the Times" and
"Outsmarter" score additional thrash hits, but the fuzz pedal goes
unstomped for a cover of Bert Jansch's junkie-folk lament "Needle of
Death" and a sweet acoustic redraft of 2000's noise-pop thriller,
"Cherry Chapstick." For those who fell in Yo La love on 1993's
Painful, it's time to renew your vows. SB
The Terror State Fat Wreck Chords
All those indistinguishable post-Sum 41 pin-ups may not have
noticed that the world has gone dark, but the real agit-punks are
mad as hell and not gonna take it any more. On their second
post-9/11 album, Anti-Flag live up to their name, opening with a
catchy chorus for their dubious commander-in-chief, "Turncoat!
Killer! Liar! Thief!" It would have been easy, however, for them to
dump out a litany of complaints and call it a day. But with help
from producer Tom Morello, these pissed-off pacifists -- who also
take on globalization, "Operation Iraqi Liberation (O.I.L.)" and a
still-relevant Woody Guthrie -- generate enough bounce to spark a
pogo protest. JO
Nettwerk
Notorious webzine pisstakers Buddyhead.com put their money where
their html code is, taking on all they despise (namely, mall-emo and
false metal) with a compilation that recruits American
insurrectionists (Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Le Tigre) and the Brit geezers
who love them (Primal Scream, Wire). Host Iggy Pop ties together the
divergent strains of stoner sludge (Dead Meadow), post-punk thrash
(The Icarus Line) and electro-shriek (Le Tigre) with scabrous
state-of-the-union addresses, and even if his opening anti-Moby rant
seems a bit too 2000, it's followed by a scathing,
uncharacteristically politicized Mudhoney track ("Hard-On for War")
that updates The Stooges for the Dubya generation. Bonus: the
closing "Nardwuar vs. Iggy" interview, which could very well be the
most replayable thing here. SB
Possessed 13 Metal Blade/Universal
Hailing from the desecration-friendly town of Trollhattan,
Sweden, The Crown have ascended to a spot on metal's A-list of evil.
The band's sixth album since 1995, Possessed 13 confirms that
The Crown are not innovators so much as skilled craftsmen devoted to
the task of crushing your skull until all the funny-smelling juice
comes out. Their arsenal of tactics include Brutal Truth-style
grindcore, the experimental textures of Today Is the Day, Cradle of
Filth's horror-show theatrics, the awesome math-metal dexterity of
countrymen Meshuggah and, most of all, the ruthless velocity of
early Metallica. The Crown even have the cojones to do an original
number called "Kill 'Em All," which actually sounds more like Napalm
Death covering ZZ Top and is therefore extremely entertaining. If
you buy only one Swedish death-metal album this holiday season, let
it be this one. JA
A People's History of The Dismemberment Plan DeSoto
Whether or not you dug The Dismemberment Plan, you have to admit
that their parting shot is a real lulu. Instead of releasing a disc
of original material (which they purportedly have, somewhere), the
DC twitch-rockers bow out with an album of remixes -- by their fans.
Most, if not all, of these deconstructions qualify as IDM. Band
purists may feel thwarted to think of this as the final word on the
Plan, but A People's History captures the band's outrageous
and inclusive spirit. Although almost three years old now, Cex 's
vivisection of "Academy Award" remains inspired mayhem. Drop Dynasty
run "What Do You Want Me To Say?" through a Timbaland filter, while
Ender gives "The Jitters" a glitch infusion. The high point: Ev from
12 Rods turning "The City" into a triumph of jazzy jungle. AM
War and Peace Sudden Death
Never mind the Sex Pistols, this is the essence of real punk
rock: raunchy, anthemic guitar played fast and loud; barked,
sneering vocals and an agenda, fuck you very much. Joey "Shithead"
Keithley's quarter-century-old Canuck-punk juggernaut stands up
incredibly well on this anthology, proving themselves no-bullshit
through and through, but also not afraid of using more than three
chords to carry the message -- check the spacey ska/dub stylings of
"War in the East" for proof. The more recent material doesn't have
quite the same jagged kick as the early -'80s songs, but the band's
demented sense of humour makes up for any slowing down. An
impressive monument to a truly seminal band. JM
D.O.A. play Rockit Nov. 14. Joey Keithley reads at The
Rivoli Nov. 18.
The New Romance Matador
The first track on these Seattle virtuoso-punks' sophomore disc
is called "Something Bigger, Something Brighter," and the phrase
could be applied to The New Romance as a whole. For their
first release on Matador, the Pretty Girls have beefed and buffed
their production up to a high gloss; their snaky duelling guitars
are clearer and Andrea Zollo's voice sounds more like Belinda
Carlisle. More often than not, it works, as on the urgent opener or
the strutting "Chemical, Chemical." But the record's missing the
ferocious push and gnashing screams of 2002's Good Health --
the only track that really measures up is the twitchy, shrieking
call to action, "All Medicated Geniuses." Bigger and brighter than
their debut, for sure -- but not better. JM
Switchblade Tongues, Butterknife Brains Gearhead
Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it. New Bomb Turks
know their history, but the history they know is worth repeating:
punk rock wasn't born in 1976 on Johnny Ramone's fretboard but in
1956 on Jerry Lee Lewis' piano bench, and it can be found everywhere
from Iggy's chest scars to Keith Richards' track marks to Arthur
Lee's acid-fried howl. The Turks' deep-seated respect for punk's
musical and spiritual traditions has meant the Ohio street-walkin'
cheetahs haven't released a single bloodless track in their 10
years. And it means that even the outtakes and curios (circa
1999-2002) collected on Switchblade Tongues still burn with
enough bourbon-soaked soul to wipe out a thousand Warped Tours.
SB
In Reverie Dreamworks/Universal
Think the last Dashboard Confessional record was way too heavy?
Saves the Day have your back. The New Jersey quartet has always been
emo-lite, but In Reverie is something else altogether: a
shameless pop record, filled with short, simple, melodic tunes.
While they make a good Green-era Weezer on tracks like "What
Went Wrong" and "Anywhere With You," the band's closest reference
point is probably now The Monkees. It all begs for ridicule -- the
bubblegum-psych ballad "She" even borders on twee -- but a few of
the melodies are just too damn friendly to argue with. The Ned
Flanders of emo bands. JM
Saves the Day plays Kool Haus Nov. 18.
Bright Flashes Victory
It's always refreshing to see a hardcore act try something
different, especially straightedge weirdos like Snapcase. This
collection of remixes, covers and other leftovers from the sessions
for the concept-driven End Transmission sees the band
plumbing the past and future of their DC-inspired sound, with covers
of tunes by aggro-daddies Helmet ("Blacktop") and Jane's Addiction
("Mountain Song"), plus experiments with programming and studio
tinkering. It's a bit of a hodge-podge, but works well as a whole,
with the obvious oddities buttressing more standard tunes like
"Freedom of Choice" and "Dress Rehearsal." Best is "Ten A.M. (Good
Morning, Mr. Coelacanth)," a quasi-industrial jam buoyed on a bass
line copped from Elbow's "Any Day Now." JM
BLACKGLOVEKILLER: The Best of Chris Alexander
Meridian
Local horror-film junkie/journo and prolific music-maker Chris
Alexander compiles the very best of his eerie electronic odes to his
celluloid heroes onto one demonic disc. Titles like "Love Butcher"
and "Kill, Django... Kill" are dead giveaways to this guy's
headspace: warped and wicked. Some tracks go for clichéd
Psycho-tic synthetic string slices; the best are more subtle,
heavy with doom-filled, dark ambient noise (like "Dark Secrets of
the Black Heart," which slithers slowly into your skull like a
maggot on the make). Sometimes cheesy, always creepy,
BLACKGLOVEKILLER is an alternate soundtrack to your favourite
films and worst nightmares. LL
Fabriclive 12 Fabric
A nine-man crew serving up a broken-beat funk-jazz-dub
smorgasbord: this could be a recipe for disaster, but Bugz in the
Attic have just the right number of cooks. Spicy flavours dominate
on this mix for London club Fabric, with complex beats, sizzling
bass lines, some soul food, protein-rich productions from the Bugz
themselves and a tongue-twisting rap from Lyric L. For dessert, the
vinyl chefs offer a creamy Daft Punk remix by The Neptunes and
N'Dambi's sweet "Call Me." Can't afford Susur Lee? This is fusion
par excellence, at a price even lower than Fabric's weekend cover
charge. MD
DJ Kicks !K7/Fusion III
Celebrated UK production trio empty out their crates and reveal
the root causes of their electro-dub dancefloor tremors. Drawing
mainly on early-'80s sources ranging from reggae to post-punk to
Afrobeat to acid-house, the Lips aren't so much interested in
connections as collisions: the operatic, Teutonic dub of Nina
Hagen's "African Reggae" echo-fades into the icy 23 Skidoo-style
bass pulse of Lindstrom's "Limitations"; Big Two Hundred's spacious
avant-funk beatscape "Suckee" sneak-attacks Dennis Bovell's
boisterous, brassy overhaul of The Raincoats' "Animal Rhapsody."
Nostalgia for Mudd Club-style genre-fucking may be at an unrelenting
fever pitch, but Chicken Lips can teach the most educated old-school
students a little bit about the fine art of clucking shit up.
SB
Kill Sound Before Sound Kills You Ipecac
Apparently the goal of Kid 606's latest egotistical romp is to
act as an assault upon music itself. If this is true, the Kid has
failed miserably. Instead of getting a fine piece of sound terrorism
(like the current euphoric noise onslaughts of Forcefield, Hair
Police, Sissy Spacek or Wolf Eyes, to name a few) we're thrown a
would-be Squarepusher tribute album and expected to be
flabbergasted. Nope. Not happening. Squarepusher's "Come on My
Selector" dropped over six years ago, Kid, and don't think we
weren't listening. Irony is a dead scene, too -- your label's
founder, Mike Patton, even said so on the title of the last
Dillinger Escape Plan album. Better go back to school, Kid. And
watch your lunch money. KH
Dead Cities, Red Seas & Lost Ghosts Gooom
French is the language of love; Parisians M83 translate it into
computer code. Dead Cities... is a relentless, high-frequency
appeal to the softest spot in your heart and the guiltiest recesses
of your conscience, laying down layer upon layer of My Bloody Laptop
psych-tronic melodrama with such socket-welling intensity, it makes
Spiritualized's gonzo gospel-delia seem subtle and diffident. But
where kindred spirit Manitoba's application of shoegazerisms to
hard-drive circuitry yield a euphoric percussive kick, M83 favour
beauty over the beat. For music that doesn't really move, Dead
Cities is very moving. SB
The View From Your New Home Suction
If robots could exist and do things like bust moves and spin
records, they'd fucking love electro. Even the most advanced models
would hold a soft spot for Kraftwerk and Giorgio Moroder, and, since
every robot would secretly yearn to be human, they'd really dig the
more emotional electro stuff, like this debut from The Mitgang
Audio. But for us humans (the ones who don't secretly yearn to be
robots, anyway) sappy old-school electro isn't always going to hit
the spot. Half the vocal -- I mean, vocoder -- tracks here are in
Italian, which considerably ups the album's sex appeal, but the
Wendy Carlos homage ("The Escape") is a real limp noodle. Overall,
this is a decent display of machine envy. KH
The Document II Illicit/Fusion III
On the follow-up to his impressive "various artists" original,
former Portishead DJ Andy Smith demonstrates that knowing which
tracks to drop and when is more important than seamless
beat-matching. Of course, he does that, too -- ditching the
uni-genre DJ mix to cut and scratch his way through a mind-blowing
array of artists, connecting the unexpected dots between Kate Bush,
Mr. Lif, Three Dog Night, Eric B and Rakim and sleazy Frenchman
Serge Gainsbourg (and those are just the least obscure ones). Mix
discs may have become easier to make at home, but Document II
proves you can't download eclectic good taste. Not yet, anyway.
JO
DJ Andy Smith appears at Andy Poolhall Nov. 14.
Peace is Tough !K7/Fusion III
For those who missed last year's brilliant Hitchhiking
Non-Stop With No Particular Destination, Berlin DJ Fetisch and
his production collective Terranova are back with a semi-new album
of dark-electro jams. On Peace is Tough, Terranova rework a
half-dozen tracks, often altering them beyond recognition, and add
five new floor-mashers to the mix. Despite occasional slow-dance
breathers, the album is largely frantic and paranoid -- down 'n'
dirty Teutonic basslines backed by tribal drums, hip-hop beats,
multilingual lyrics, ragga toasting and heart-stabbing synths.
Fetisch realizes dancefloors offer little respite from the madness
outside, but if "Rockmongril" was spinning during a discothèque
bombing, its anthemic guitars would likely rage on.
JO
The World of Lady A Wiiija
British singer/producer Anjali Bhatia is a bit of a cipher: her
breathy voice is more like a whispered promise of seduction than the
thing itself. If this were a Dido record, that failing would be
obvious. But The World of Lady A is filled with such assured
songcraft and triumphant risks that her slightly reedy delivery
becomes an abstraction. Anjali's third album combines careful study
of Gainsbourg-style pop with the hypnotic sounds of her ancestral
India. File under: psychedelic torch songs. Cuts like "Misty
Canyon," "Asian Provocateur" and "A Humble Girl" are both trippy and
sexy, and make efforts by similarly '60s-obsessed acts like Fatboy
Slim and Dimitri from Paris seem hopelessly pedestrian.
AM
I Can't Stop Blue Note/EMI
Ecstatic as a gospel rave-up yet unmistakably carnal in nature,
Al Green's albums with producer/ arranger Willie Mitchell in the
'70s were the epitome of Southern soul. No wonder soul fans are weak
in the knees over the prospect of I Can't Stop, the pair's
first collaboration since 1976 and Reverend Al's first secular disc
in 14 years. Yet hopes for an old-school triumph on the level of
Solomon Burke's Don't Give Up on Me are frustrated by the
album's overly crowded mix and mostly mediocre songs that ape
Green's classic singles without matching them. Also missed is the
late drummer Al Jackson Jr., whose laid-back, in-the-pocket style
was the perfect match for Green's sinuous cool -- here, the rhythm
section seems intent on shoving the singer around. But when the
stars align on "You," "Million to One" and the show-stopping "My
Problem Is You," Green heads straight for the stratosphere.
JA
Comin' From Where I'm From So So Def/Arista/BMG
Since his first three albums were either shelved or unfairly
ignored, this gifted singer is less known for his own music than for
backing up D'Angelo, Eve and Nappy Roots. Comin' From Where I'm
From should reverse Anthony Hamilton's fortunes -- earthy and
serene, it's the most compelling slice of neo-soul since D'Angelo's
Voodoo. While its nimble Southern funk makes "Cornbread, Fish
& Collard Greens" the most immediately appealing song here, it's
the opulent ballads that are truly divine. A gorgeous paean to both
cannabis and phone sex, "Float" out-blisses Maxwell at his
floatiest. Even cooler is "Lucille," which remodels an old Kenny
Rogers hit as a piece of pillowy melancholy worthy of Terry Callier.
JA
The Best of The Mahotella Queens: The Township Idols
Wrasse/Sony
The Mahotella Queens are the mbaqanga Destiny's Child: a sassy
trio who dress colourfully, sing soulful harmonies and are unafraid
to speak their minds. Of course, they're a bit older: they formed in
1964, and "groaner" Mahlathini (think Ja Rule with talent) recently
passed away, but the Queens' blend of soul, reggae and Afro-pop is
timeless -- well, almost. This overview of the second half of their
career includes '90s material where overzealous producers added
synth flutes, claustrophobic reverb and electronic handclaps to the
mix. The '80s songs, however, are sparsely funky and infectious --
more than enough to tide us over until Timbaland steps in. MD
Comfort Woman Maverick/Warner
God love Me'shell NdegéOcello. Despite being a gifted bass player
and an evocative vocalist, she resides in an artistic purgatory: her
recordings are too polished to meet frayed indie standards, and
despite early successes, her songs are too unconventional to fit
adult-contemporary playlists. Labels become wholly irrelevant,
however, when you submit yourself to NdegéOcello's fifth
long-player. A gorgeous spell of languid dub-pop, Comfort Woman
features rippling bass lines, vivid guitar textures (witness
Doyle Bramhall' s full-blooded solos on "Liliquoi Moon" and "Love
Song #3") and the palpable shudder of lust. The Cynical Record Exec
might bemoan the lack of a ready single, but The Sympathetic Music
Critic might counter that Comfort Woman should only be
appreciated in its entirety. AM
Big Shots Stones Throw
Remember hip-hop in the early '90s? Black Moon, Hieroglyphics,
Main Source, Pharcyde... man, there was really something happening
then. Everyone's heads were still reeling from A Tribe Called
Quest's jazz inflections, Wu-Tang Clan were actually frightening and
old-school flava hadn't yet fallen prey to big money chasers; damn,
that era was rap's true Golden Age. It was during that time
(1991-93) that Peanut Butter Wolf was holed up in the basement with
his boy Charizma, cutting some truly contemporary shit.
Unfortunately, Charles "Charizma" Hicks died in 1993, but his talent
will always inspire -- "My World Premiere" was the debut 12-inch
PBW's Stones Throw label released in 1996, and now Big Shots
compiles nearly everything this dynamic duo recorded. Essential.
KH
Get Free or Die Tryin' Boss Up/Landspeed
If there's a rebellious bone in your body, you know dead prez are
the most likely hip-hop group to ignite the revolution. Don't raise
your rifles yet, though: this isn't the follow-up to prez's fiery
2000 debut, Let's Get Free, but the second volume in their
Turn Off the Radio mix-tape series. Die Tryin'
shotguns through 16 tracks in 40 minutes and features a slew of
different producers and MCs. The only notable collaboration comes
from Onyx, who must've risen bacdafucup from the grave to produce
the outstanding "Last Days Reloaded." Most of the tracks here feel
unfinished and tossed off -- but that's how rap mix tapes play. This
is no riot starter, but it'll sure as hell rock the squat. KH
Preacher's Son Realizing that Lauryn just ain't coming back, the Haitian rapper
has finally settled into his role as elder statesman (despite being
only 31) and made an adult-contemporary hip-hop album with
Preacher's Son. Once again boasting multicultural beatscapes
rooted in reggae, soul and calypso, 'Clef uses his pulpit to
increase the peace -- taking on rap feuds, global conflicts and gang
violence. To aid in his mission, the MC brings his usual collab-bag
overstuffed with everyone from Missy Elliott, Redman and Buju Banton
to Santana, The Edge and Patti LaBelle.
To capitalize on the new release, his ex-label has released
Greatest Hits, serving up the Grammy-nominated Mary J. Blige
song "911," the Youssou N'Dour anti-brutality duet "Diallo" and, of
course, the symphonic classic "Gone 'Til November" -- but these
tracks put the remainder of his so-called hits into stark relief.
Wyclef's post-Fugees output has been consistently disappointing, not
so much because it sucks, but because he can do better than
cheeseball remakes of Bob Dylan and Pink Floyd and collaborations
with wrestlers. Despite being weakened by his singing voice,
Preacher's Son is a step back in the right direction, but
it's too bad only the Missy cut is worthy of a "greatest hits"
title. JO
The Scenic Route Battleaxe/Underworld
Toronto's Oddities have a misleading name -- besides occasional
flashes of electronica on a handful of tracks, there's nothing
really odd about these hip-hop ditties. From start to finish, this
debut cruises a dragging, lacklustre pace without any discernible
destination, making The Scenic Route a very appropriate
title: clean, laid-back production -- with an eye on the lounges and
classier clubs -- is the name of the game here. Luckily, Oddities'
learned lyrical flows and lighthearted stance save The Scenic
Route from being a long drive to nowhere. KH
Lost and Found Rapster/BBE/Fusion III
Nothing sums up Pete Rock's past decade better than the
tossed-off lyric "I'm about as fed-up as a fat boy." After breaking
through with partner CL Smooth in '95, the producer and sometime
rapper endured countless label snafus until recently signing with
the British label BBE. To prove their dedication, they've dug up a
pair of never-released mid-'90s Rock albums, produced for the
forgotten groups InI and Deda. Both albums feature Rock's
distinctive and oft-imitated smoked-out sound, and while the rapping
is never more than adequate, the laid-back jazz-infused music makes
up for it. But just you wait for the A-list MCs on next year's
comeback album. JO
All Got Our Runnins EP Vice
Voluble, bold, exciting -- the sound of The Streets (a.k.a. Mike
Skinner) seems a lot like a Guy Ritchie movie with a social
conscience. This combination EP-remix album is an internet-only
follow-up to his galvanizing breakthrough, Original Pirate
Material, and the quality varies. There's a rousing tangle with
Roll Deep and Dizzee Rascal (who seems to be this year's Roots
Manuva) on "Let's Push Things Forward," but Ashley Beedle renders
"Weak Become Heroes" as Jamiroquai-style froth (Skinner's lyric even
remarks that "the same piano loops over and over"). Two new tracks,
however, make it worthwhile: the terse garage beats of "Give Me Back
My Lighter" and the title cut are the perfect complement to
Skinner's chatty, embittered ruminations on modern British life.
AM
the no music of aiff's Anticon
Compared to Anticon's varied and demanding avant-garde hip-hop
output, this remix project sounds like a cohesive album. Not that
this makes aiff's predictable or average. Quite the opposite;
Themselves is lyricist Doseone and producer Jel, and their approach
is more focused on beats than the former's ambient-minded cLOUDDEAD
project, but nonetheless experimental and quick-witted. Most of
Anticon's extended family throw down to fuck up tracks from
Themselves' The No Music album -- Alias, Fog, cLOUDDEAD's
Why? and Odd Nosdam -- while outsiders like Hood and The Notwist
step up to twist their cerebellums with appropriate fervour. Don't
let the tame-looking feline on the cover fool you -- Themselves
reside deep within the entrancing patterns of the furry mane.
KH
True North/Universal
She's a singer and violinist and veteran of amiable indie
popsters that dog.; he's a New York avant-jazz guitar wiz with a
rootsy streak. As a duet, Haden and Frisell cover songs from Tom
Waits' "I Don't Wanna Grow Up" to Coldplay's "Yellow." The results
are unsurprisingly quirky, slightly melancholic and rather twee.
Frisell does his best to keep things interesting with his gauzy
guitars, but one can't help but hope for a change in texture once in
a while, especially with Haden's one-dimensional voice giving the
songs a patina of sameness. Cute rendition of "When You Wish Upon a
Star," though. MD
Face to Face Eagle
The cover says "New Album, New Songs," but Hooker's been, um,
dead for two years, and spent his life perpetuating the
one-chord boogie that made him. That's all right -- Tupac still
releases listenable albums, and the one-idea career has spawned such
worthies as the Ramones, AC/DC and The White Stripes. Face to
Face runs high to low: For every shuffle as spooky as "Stop
Jivin' Me Mama" or as nasty as "Mad Man Blues," there's the
umpteenth version of "Dimples" (here, a hog-slop with Van Morrison),
a sappy string ballad or daughter Zakiya's lame attempts to sing
like papa. Unbecoming of a legend. But -- literally -- half-decent.
HD
The Noise in My Chest Independent
With a rich, honey-thick voice, an ear for the catchiest turn of
vocal and lyrical phrase, and a harmonious way with a melody, Reid
Jamieson turns eight homemade acoustic demos into a thing of beauty.
And he does it concisely: more than half the songs are under three
minutes, and only one is longer than four. Wide-eyed and
open-hearted-- a hopeful romantic, if you will --Jamieson
skirts the line just shy of gushy sentiment. From the irresistible,
fast-fingered-folk of "Imaginary Lifestyle" to the country-style
donut "The Invitation Stands" to the impeccable pop of "Sweet
Words," this one's a keeper. HD
Reid Jamieson appears with The Rheostatics at the Horseshoe
Nov. 13.
Polaris Tone Cool/BMG
Musical progeny have historically had a mixed time of it -- for
every Rosanne Cash, there's a Tal Bachman. But roots-rockers North
Mississippi Allstars -- the ex-punk sons of revered Memphis producer
Jim Dickinson and the recently added offspring of Delta bluesman
R.L. Burnside -- make out all right. As befitting people who have
grown up in music, they have an effortless feel to their playing. On
album three, NMA run through earthy approximations of rock, pop,
blues, country and washboard psychedelia as if they owned the
jukejoint. But for all its traditional trappings, there's just not
enough distinct personality there yet. And no, getting Noel
Gallagher to sing backup doesn't count. JO
Life Doesn't Rhyme Fat Possum
Judah Bauer is the Keith Richards of the Blues Explosion, staying
true to the blues while boss Jon Spencer ventures off on his
Jaggeresque flights of fancy. But the fourth album from Bauer's
moonlight gig, 20 Miles, steers clear of the Mississippi mud -- like
our own Deadly Snakes, Bauer's found salvation in stripped-down,
piano-pounding soul. Even though Bauer's steady voice won't wake
Otis Redding from the grave ("Ain't got no golden voice / I can't
sing the midnight blues," he admits), his tentative timbre bears
genuine scars of regret -- no more convincingly than on "Drown the
Whole World," a disarmingly honest confessional assuaged by a
bedtrack of backward guitar loops. SB
20 Miles open for The Brian Jonestown Massacre at The
Silver Dollar Nov. 18.
Live 2003 EMI
Chris Martin rescues a kitten. Shirtless. What more could a
Coldplay fan wish for? The candid footage on the excellent 40-minute
tour diary is worth the $28 price of this live DVD/CD package. The
compelling and intimate doc is truly more than "bonus feature." If
it's not enough to see the band soundcheck, do interviews,
participate in group hugs and create no havoc backstage whatsoever,
there's also a full concert, recorded in Australia in 2003, that
captures the Coldplay at their confident best in extreme close-up
and quick cuts (I prefer fewer cameras, so I customized using the
multi-angle feature). All the heartwarming hits plus two new tracks
that echo of the Bunnymen. Don't have a DVD player yet? Enjoy the
audio-only live CD. The perfect Chris-mass present. LL
The Work of Director Chris Cunningham Directors
Label/Palm Pictures
What with scenes of rampaging evil children all sporting the
Aphex Twin's ugly mug and a granny getting menaced by a screaming
mutant, Chris Cunningham's clip for the Aphex Twin's "Come to Daddy"
remains one of the freakiest mergers of sound and vision ever
concocted. And that's just one in a series of highly unsettling
works included in the British filmmaker's entry in Palm Pictures'
new Directors Label series (which also compiles the somewhat
cuddlier short-form works of Spike Jonze and Michel Gondry).
Cunningham is a master at conceptualizing post-human forms: a
beggar's limbs shatter like glass in the video of Leftfield's
"Afrika Shox," androids get frisky in Björk's "All Is Full of Love,"
and hip-hop hoochies get Aphex-ized with hilarious and repulsive
results in Aphex Twin's "Windowlicker." Imaginative and cunning,
Cunningham's dark visions are compulsively watchable, if not exactly
pleasant. JA
Three Days Sanctuary/EMI
After years of rumoured release, the new Jane's Addiction
documentary is a tad disappointing. Promising "a fast-paced orgy of
gritty backstage dramas and rare musical performances," it's really
just a great concert movie with a whack of random footage, none of
it particularly scandalous. (Unless you count Dave Navarro talking
about heroin.) In between shots of Perry surfing and talking Torah
with a rabbi is the 1997 Relapse tour, recorded at various American
cities. (Halloween in NYC; Las Vegas.) It's a colourful, intense
show, captured perfectly with both pro and amateur-style camera
work. Three Days would may have blown me away had it been
released years ago, but with the band's recent tour/record/hype much
of it feels like old news. Still, a must-have for fans.
LL
Live at Pompeii: The Director's Cut Universal
Director Adrian Maben pulls a George Lucas on this update of his
classic 1971 rock doc, inserting silly CGI space and volcano effects
that betray the original cut's deliberately stark and chilling
aesthetic. But that still doesn't diminish the power of this
celebration of all things prog: mystical geography, lava, free-form
jamming, gongs. More importantly, it captures the
post-Meddle, pre-Dark Side Floyd at their creative and
collaborative peak, before Roger Waters set the controls for the
heart of his ego. The Richter scale-rocking performances of "Careful
With That Axe Eugene" and "Echoes" created the fissure that
magma-metallists like Kyuss would later seep through. SB
The Sublime And: Science Friction Live Thirsty
Ear/Outside
Alto-sax maverick Berne calls his bands things like "Bloodcount,"
"Big Satan" and "Caos Totale"; obviously, he isn't into easy
listening. His quartet Science Friction, while offering a few
moments of respite on this double-live set, mostly blasts its way
through its convoluted, Zappa-esque originals with irreverent
delight and manic energy. If you're looking for a moniker, call this
music post-fusion, or just enjoy the category-evading interplay of
Berne's biting lines, Marc Ducret's buzzing guitar, Craig Taborn's
warped keys and Tom Rainey's restless drumming. Perversely fun.
MD
Y'all Just Don't Know Concord/Koch
The album opens with gentle acoustic guitar-picking. Then Bruce
Cockburn starts singing impassionedly about trickle-down economics
over a piano trio's stuttering 7/4 beat. A harmonica player adds
angular jazz lines, and then the rapper comes in... It should sound
ridiculous, but when keyboardist and Toronto native Andy Milne puts
his Dapp Theory into practice, the effect is as rewarding as it is
perplexing. Milne's approach to his NYC mentor Steve Coleman's
avant-funk is fluid, allowing his collaborators' complementary
musical personalities to mesh freely. On three tracks, Cockburn is
propelled into unfamiliar, exciting territory: seems he doesn't need
a rocket launcher anymore. MD
Extended Play: Live at Birdland ECM/Universal
A year after he brought them a Grammy award, Dave Holland's
long-time label has rewarded him by releasing a sprawling double-CD
live set and beefing up their notoriously limpid drum sound. The
result? A gobsmackingly good release from the bassman's quintet,
whose every member is a monster. This record of a stint at NYC's
Birdland in 2001 is enough to give a critic adjectivitis:
intelligent, imaginative, wide-ranging, virtuosic, exhilarating and,
despite its length, not even remotely boring. The magnificent Billy
Kilson keeps everything blustering along with his hyperkinetic
drumming, and for once on disc, you can feel it. Mr. Holland's best
opus yet. MD
Universal Syncopations ECM
You'd think that with a band comprised of Jan Garbarek, John
McLaughlin, Chick Corea and Jack DeJohnette, all you'd have to do
would be put them together in a room and let them lay some golden
eggs. Bassist Miroslav Vitous prefers doing things the hard way: for
his first project in 10 years, he recorded the four jazz legends at
different times in different studios; the result sounds, bizarrely
enough, spontaneous. The music recalls Miles Davis' work just prior
to Bitches Brew, with his former bandmates McLaughlin and
Corea playing concentrated salvos of sound as DeJohnette's roiling
grooves stir up unpredictable surges. Vitous' sonic science produces
cool fusion. MD
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SARAH McLACHLAN 
GUIDED BY VOICES 
JIM GUTHRIE 
DAVE HOLLAND QUINTET