CD Reviews: June 1998
Archived
The Mysteries of Life
Come Clean
This husband and wife team do some nice stuff — mellow, but toe-tappy. The drums are original and play a major part in the songs, Freda is not bad at all at getting things moving. Sweet lyrics, but not nauseatingly so. Jake Smith is on vocals – his voice is smooth – none of that purely off-key stuff — and it’s pure in that not-so-innocent way. It’s almost Paul Westerburg at times only more… kind? At any rate, that Replacements groove is definitely present at times, and the harmonica adds a nice touch. All of the songs are relationship-esque — the joys and troubles etc. — and all sketched out with some damn fine tunes. “Wish You Well” is one of those super “wow” songs, but don’t get me wrong, the album in its entirety certainly deserves a “wow” or two.
Chroma Pistola
Take Me Away
“Gypsy Eyes”
Oh my God, this is groovy. Like the screechy guitar on the first song, “Take Me Away,” and it’s singy, while the second song, “Gypsy Eyes,” is peppered with rap style lyrics. The beats are rockin’ and the sweet “chorus” voice in “Gypsy Eyes” creates a very interesting effect. Even for a girl whose taste in rap-style music starts and ends with the Beastie Boys, these guys are good. It’s not rap, but it kind of is. And what a cool name for a band.
Ugly Americans
Boom Boom Baby
This album sounds different when compared to Stereophonic Spanish Fly. There are lots of horns, and a lot of slower grooves. The Ugly Americans get pretty funky on a few of the tracks… and it’s even easy to groove on the slower songs. It seems pretty much like today’s “popular” music, but it’s very well done and it has a nice edge — a not-so-mainstream edge. Although I generally don’t go for this kind of music, damn, on the fast songs these guys can really groove. I was the most hyped up about the title song, “Boom Baby Boom,” but the rest was damn good, too.
Smart Bomb
ca
How very California. Is that good or bad? It reminds me of a ’90s version of Big Drill Car. The drummer is obviously smoking crack, and quite a bit more than the guitarist…but wait! The bass player’s with him! It’s fun. It makes you grin that California grin. Vaguely reminiscent of late ’80s early ’90s skate videos. And it doesn’t slow down at all. Did I mention California? Take all of these facts and judge them for yourself; I think there are some good things happening here, but that could be due to the amazing number of the above mentioned skate videos that I watched as a younger girl.
Diane Froley
Pet My Kitty Mr. NYC
That girl who sings with Lou Reed!!! The “I’m stickin’ with you” girl! It’s her!!! Okay, maybe not. The fact that Froley “spends her free hours making instruments from household items” is significant. This makes me smile and·at times giggle. She may be slightly tone deaf, but she needs to be. Her stuff is good. Damn good. Great. It’s pure. Almost overwhelmingly so at times. I almost can’t believe how amazing she made this music. But if you’re not ready for “pure,” then you’d better stay away. The lyrics are so… true. Moving in such a simple way. No wonder Scott wanted it back.
12 Rounds
My Big Hero
Nothing
The 12 Rounds advance arrived about two months ago. My Big Hero is the title from the duo of Atticus Rose and Claudia Sarne. I believe Claudia is the first female to enter the confines of Trent Reznor‘s label. The album is an affirmation of how desperately a female presence was missed. It’s a tripped-out disc that is closer to the Sneaker Pimps than Marilyn Manson or Pig. Since Nothing is involved the release does have that dark outlook — for the two opening numbers. “Sunshine” lifts the darkness, or at least allows light obscured by clouds. That “dance” number isn’t the focus track. The more morose “Pleasant Smell” is shipping to radio as a single. That title alone should do it based upon the success of odorous songs such as “Sex and Candy.” The title track is a gothic interpretation of all things Reznor. Forget about dancing or fucking like animals. On this number, Sarne brings a feeling of dread. Hang the head and wish that you could be in the mop bucket washing her feet. “Something’s Burning” doesn’t have the tempo of “Sunshine,” but that would be my next choice or a single based upon the layers and layers of industrial goth backing erogenous zone stimulating Sarne’s vocals. Be prepared on June 30 to receive 12 Rounds. —Semitonic
Bernard Butler
People Move On
Creation/ Columbia
A glance through Salt Lake City’s newsprint of late shows a remarkable lack of good taste. From the dailies to the “street” it looks like grid was the only “paper” receiving any decent music. I’m not exactly mourning the demise of grid, but at least those poor bastards made an attempt. Bernard Butler has a contract with a major label. I’m nearly at the point of vacating the major label premises because much more of interest comes from the independents. People Move On captured my attention. “Woman I Know” is a rewrite from the seventies. The opener is enough to draw anyone in. It nearly caused me to pull out Neil Young‘s Harvest or Crosby Stills, Nash and Young‘s Deja-vu, but I hate those fucking albums. Butler capture that “vibe.” He plays all the instruments — except drums and violins. He wrote all the songs and he produced the album. Young and old are wandering about the land worshipping classic rock or attempting to recreate something that is nearly impossible to recreate. Society has changed from those classic rock days. One can never go back and Butler appropriately, yeah, move on. Bernard Butler left Suede in 1994. Reviews of Coming Up, the first Suede release after Butler’s departure, claimed that Brett Anderson was always the guiding force behind the band. In 1998 “London Suede” still hasn’t achieved any success in America. Butler’s new release lays to rest any and all claims about his talent. The entire album is classic rock, fodder for adults, AOR material deserving a massive audience until “Autograph.” This particular gem is why I’m writing about the disc at all. Butler turns his back on the patrons, sticks his guitar right up against his amp and begins to feedback as if he had joined Sonic Youth. Seven songs remain. “You Light The Fire” is timid folk rock, “Not Alone” is Brit-pop sap, “When You Grow” is John Lennon without Yoko‘s input, “You’ve Got What It Takes” is an MOR ballad saved by keyboards of all things, “Stay” is the first single that will never make a dent in U.S. charts. “In Vain” and “I’m Tired” complete the glossy experience. Butler captured one moment of intensity with “Autograph.” Nothing else on the album compares, but if commercial is desired this gentleman deserves more attention than Mariah Carey, the Backstreet Boys, and *NSYNC, for Christ’s sakes! —Wilbur
Bon Voyage
Self-titled
BEC Records
Just imagine walking into a retail outlet in search of pop music of the Christian persuasion with a female vocalist. Bon Voyage is the disc of choice. Julie is a singer with ear-piercing vocals. She’s so far up in the soprano range that turning the volume past three is not recommended — at least not in expensive homes. The words are to the point and it’s all about love. So far, Bon Voyage is as common as a church. The reason the album works is not the lyrics, nor is Julie’s voice, the ticket is the instrumental backing. Each song flows into the next as more eighties new wave than nineties rock and yet Gene on keyboards, Jason on guitar, Travis on bass and Matt on drums have managed to create a dark undercurrent in the bright pop. The only reason I know the band has a Christian background is because I have the bio. They practice religion without allowing it to enter the music and that is a relief. —Wallace
Hot Rods To Hell Volume II
Blood Red Vinyl and Discs
What can one say? A compilation featuring 16 drag racing tunes from a like number of bands can’t miss. Especially not when Davie Allan & the Arrows are first off the line. No one has managed to mimic Allan’s trademark fuzz and it has been over 30 years. He’s the old guy. The trick to a working drag race tune is usually, “keep it instrumental.” The Boss Martians break the rule and tum in an honest classic. Jan & Dean or the Beach Boys it is not. All the bands are trying to emulate Brian Wilson these days. How about trying the Rip Chords, mister pop rock? The Space Cadets get to cover “Squad Car,” and they cover it well. There is surf and there is drag, for the difference listen to The Space Cadets. Oh, those Waggles. They too get it right in just under three minutes “Throttlehead.” Del Noah & the Mt. Ararat Finks have the second vocal entry. “Hot Wheels” doesn’t work. The Finks flamed out and and it’s back to the garage for more work. “Last of the V-8 Interceptors” has reverb to spare while maintaining traction, and that means asphalt, not a board. Drag tunes commonly have revving engines, the Insect Surfers add a trackside announcer. Next up, more vocals. “Red Hot Car” isn’t drag, but since it’s the Hentchmen, they aren’t sent back for more work. Garage can work in this format. The Phantom Five do the reverb correct and then we have a genuine soundbite from Shirley Muldowney preceding the Neptunias paying tribute to her. It’s discs like this that make me happy I’m at SLUG and not a famous “street critic.” I wouldn’t exactly call The Royal Pendletons’ entry “for the strip,” but a Pendleton is winter attire. Take your shirts, off boys. The Blacktop Rockets have the name right and a bit of the hillbilly in their blood. Too much Dukes of Hazzard? Get ready for this next one. “Six Days On The Road” by the JR. Samples is a late intermission because only “Burnout” and “Under My Wheels” remain. The Boardwalkers crank and The Original Sins were never recognized for their ability at instrumentals. The rewrite is pretty bizarre and after such a thing the race is over, not on. —Top Deck
Cradle of Filth
Cruelty and the Beast
Mayhem
Oh dear. “Unquestionably the year’s most anticipated album, Cruelty and the Beast marks the return of England’s provocative Cradle of Filth.” Rather than actually review the album, it is best to simply reprint the information on each group member from beneath their picture in the CD booklet. Robin Graves — “This libertine, a merciless necrophile, employs a drug which induces a death-like sleep. His victims are naked in coffins and buried, shortly after they revive. The libertine waits by the grave, placing his ear to the soil to hear a scream; if they do it suffices to make him discharge over the gravesite. He has killed and then enjoyed most of his loved ones in this particular fashion.” Stuart — “This libertine uses a machine which drills through bodies with a hollow steel bit, extracting cylindrical gobbets of flesh when removed; if not removed the machine bores on automatically bringing him to violent rapture amid the jabbing arc of his victim’s blood.” Nicholas — “Gradually perfecting his art on various parts of the body over the years, this infamous skin-beater now thrashes his victim from head to toe until she is flayed alive; wearing her skin to dinner almost as an erotic afterthought.” Gian — “This libertine used to revel in just licking a lover’s face. Now as a mature man he prefers to twist her head around until she stares backward. In this way, he may simultaneously gloat over her tortured face and buttocks.” Dani Filth — “A renowned blasphemer, this libertine now goes as far as to deflower then crucify young virgins, leaving them to suffer the agonies of the damned as carrion for ravens and other less picky nightcrawlers…” Lector — “This libertine poses as a priest, first cataloguing sordid confessions from his flock. Another of his manias is to have a naked nun sit astride a large crucifix whereupon he plunges his priesthood into her cunt up to the hilt; his thrusts making her clitoris grind upon christ’s beard.”
The Dani fellow takes turns screeching like a cat in heat or roaring like a lion. Lecter takes the church organ into a tomb. The other three create the customary thrash as a variety of females shriek and moan in the background. Hammer film actress Ingrid Pitt contributes to “Batthory Aria, Part III: Eyes That Witnessed Madness.” The disc is quite a listen. Anyone taking it seriously has missed the sarcasm. —King David
Rapoon
The Tires Of The Borderlands
Release
Maybe Ether‘s hope for a big record deal is not limited to Japan or Australia? Release is an American label. Rapoon is an English band and the album was mastered in Phoenix. The recording is not as sonically adventurous as Ether’s effort because Rapoon is more inclined to minimalism. Atmospheric remains a descriptive adjective. Rapoon is none other than Robin Storey, formerly of Zoviet France, vaguely disturbing nature of his creations and once again the world created is from the place of shadows, the mind is implied rather than experienced, the drone is as irritating as an unscratched itch and relief occurs only when Storey slightly varies a tone. The work can serve as background noise to daily activities or as audible art. —Steel
Perfume Tree
Feeler
World Domination
Before there was a Mono, a Sneaker Pimps, a Morcheeba or a Cork, there was a Perfume Tree. Since Perfume Tree lives in Canada, few have heard the ethereal vibe accompanying the beat heavy sonics. Of course the singer is female. Of course they use plenty of electronic gadgets. Of course there isn’t a live drummer. Feeler doesn’t have the draw of a Sneaker Pimps single, nor the lounge of a Mono, nor the blues of a Morcheeba, nor for that matter the live musicians of all except Mono. It’s more for listening, listening as in the first Deep Forest album, except it’s more together than a Deep Forest album. Okay, I’ll choose another. Let’s pretend for a minute that we are stressed out again. I say we because there’s more than one person living in my head. I’ve used this analogy in the past and I’ll use it again because the individuals I’m describing are pathetic. The ticket is music. Dead Can Dance, Enigma, Deep Forest and Enya are favorite choices. “Listen to this music in the lotus position and stress will disappear. Who has stress when there’s so much pain in the legs? Perfume Tree is a stress-relieving band. Feeler has some grind, but grind is good and Jane Tilley’s vocals are a hell of a lot more pleasant than Enya or Lisa Gerrard, not that I have anything against Miss Gerrard. Feeler is a delicate recording with a beat. The end. —Baba O. Riley
Ether
Hush
Pinworm
There must be about a thousand bands playing around Utah at the present time. Every single one of them has to make a CD and contribute to the overwhelming glut. A great number of them feel that A&R guys will immediately snatch them from Utah and make them rock stars based on copycat tendencies. Ether just creates. The album was recorded in Oakland, except for some ending sounds recorded by Josh Stippich. Stippich is a little-recognized individual with his fingers in a few of Utah’s most challenging recordings. The album Hush is a lively affair with atmospherics taken from dreams — dreams, nightmares, lives tortured by emotional difficulties, physician-prescribed pharmaceuticals and homemade personality disorders. Now that solo individuals are sitting in bedrooms all over the world, Ether retreats to a mostly analog existence aided by the cast-off artifacts of society. Vocal intrusions are whispers. Percussion is human or discovered sound, guitars aren’t so much played as toyed with, the songs are separated only by mood or the musicians minds and titles are absent. Track seven is especially tribal. It’s as if Ether stole the cue from a Liberty Park drum circle and retreated to a loft to deconstruct the entire “healing” notion. After minutes of silence the tribe departs for the interior of a snake charmer’s woven basket only to emerge with scratches, synthetically created didgeridoo and percussion intact. Hush is a phenomenon in a region long recognized for mimicry. The only labels Ether can look to for salvation are in Japan, except Australia’s Extreme is a more logical choice based upon the recording. —Steel
Dick Curless
The Drag ‘Em Off The Interstate, Sock It To ‘Em Hits of Razor & Tie
Rhino is usually thought of as a premier reissue label, but these days Razor & Tie is picking up where Rhino leaves off. A Dick Curless CD reissue is a shock because the man is unknown to all but the most serious students of the ’60s. Mention the ’60s and images of tie-dye and bell-bottoms appear. Dick Curless tried to copy Josh White’s guitar style. His early life was spent among the Acadians who lived on the Canadian border in Maine. Acadians are known as Cajuns in Louisiana today. Curless went out to Korea in 1952 and came back with a taste for drink and an inability to relate to society. Curless was recording for a small Maine label in the mid-fifties and holding down house gigs in Bangor. His biggest hit was originally released on Allagash, a label he formed with the song’s writer, Dan Fulkerson, and later picked up by Tower Records. “Tombstone Every Mile” reached #5 on the country charts in 1965. That song brought Curless fame as a Dave Dudley competitor. The disc contains 21 songs and seven of them are “trucker” songs; trucker songs with a twist. “Chick Inspector (That’s Where My Money Goes)” has Curless inspecting the chicks in trucker bars. “Juke Box Man” was dedicated to the guy stocking the jukebox and “Drag ‘Em Off The Interstate, Sock It To ‘Em J.P. Blues” was about who knows what. Trucker songs are what he’s remembered for. Curless was more than a country singer for truckers. That Josh White influence fights off the rock ‘n’ roll, “Travelin’ Man” is a rockabilly song, the two final songs are blues. An American white man singing the blues in a country bar was unheard of in 1973, but that is exactly what Curless did for his Live At The Wheeling Truck Drivers Jamboree. Truck driving songs, rockabilly, blues, folk-blues and novelties from a misfit with a patch over his eye. The compilation hardly does him justice, but at least he isn’t completely forgotten in America. In Germany he has a box set. —Duke
Music From the X-Games Volume 3
Mammoth
Does Mammoth have a problem? First the label released an MTV compilation featuring songs already tired from repetition and now the Mighty Mighty Bosstones open ESPN’s X-Games Volume 3 with “The Impression That I Get.” I love the Descendents, but “I’m The One” is another worn tune. The objective is to sell a few copies and make the contributing bands some money. Why not contribute fresh material? Someone might purchase the “product.” Why, pray tell, should anyone purchase a disc containing “All Mixed Up,” “Touch, Peel and Stand” and “Busy Child” by 311, Days Of The New and The Crystal Method? That leaves seven songs not played to death. A compilation of Fu Manchu covering Thin Lizzy, Pantera, Pennywise, Fatboy Slim, The Charlatans UK, the Dropkick Murphys and Coal Chamber is worth about $3 and I doubt any store is selling it for that price. —Board
Jolene
In The Gloaming
Sire Records
Back in the eighties Sire Records was the deal with bands like the Ramones and Talking Heads newly signed. At the present time the label is right up there with a newly revived Sub Pop as for decent music. Sire has Muscadine and Sugarsmack, two intermarried bands worthy of more attention than I or anyone else has given. Sire also has Jolene. Jolene is supposed to be one of those “alternative country” bands. Canny SLUG readers sit around listening to Son Volt, the Jayhawks, Wilco and Golden Smog I’m sure. My view of “alternative country” is slightly warped from two previous resurgent, not insurgent country experiences and I’m not lumping Jolene in with that crowd. In The Gloaming has fiddles, it has harmonies and the guitars twang in some cases. What the hell is expected of a band from North Carolina? As the final ringing tones of “Begin 1000” fade away and an organ is barely perceptible I’m trying to remember which country band from the past had R.E.M. guitars and keyboards? Not a single one, nope, there wasn’t one. Was R.E.M. an “alternative country” band? AdmittedlyR.E.M. lost it a long, long time ago, right around the time of Reckoning, I believe, but they were good once. Jolene has that same charming way about them, the hooks mixed with just enough feedback and effects pedals, the songs that last forever without fatiguing, fullness of production that lacks commercial accessibility and yeah, some of it sounds like an Uncle Tupelo spin-off. What was Uncle Tupelo before a bunch of bald-heads discovered them and resurrected the summer of ’69? A fucking rock band? Get over the Jackson Browne/James Taylor/Roger McGuinn/ Robbie Robertson worship. I suppose that psych blast Whiskeytown laid down at the Zephyr Club was “alternative country” too? If “So Sleepless You” is country, the believer needs a good Hank Williams/Lefty Frizzell ass kicking. —Buck Board
Rx (aka Nivek Ogre and Martin Atkins)
Bedside Toxicology
Invisible
I believe that Rx is a legally acceptable name for Ritalin, the group name Martin Atkins adopted for a project with Nivek Ogre. After Atkin’s most recent unhappy visit to Salt Lake City and Ogre’s strange behavior on stage with KMFDM, seeing a copy of the disc arrive at all is a curiosity. The session begins with an acoustic Syd Barrett composition before entering a more comfortably satisfying, trance-inducing state of rhythm. “K Y Re:Amin” is all booty-shaking groove. “Reuptake” is more cut/paste and then the duo does a take on a song made famous by Petula Clark? “Downtown” is certainly weird enough. Atkins isn’t one to create anything without some kind of statement. “Imago” finally finds the two ready to start messing with vocal samples and “Crackhead Waltz” is the statement. It’s a ride on a twisted merry-go-round operated by a kindergarten class under the influence of excessive amounts of the band name. “The Daze” appears just beyond the mid-point. So far, Ogre/Atkins have done three songs and four experiments — “The Daze” is counted as an experiment. Urban decay, drugs, programmed mentalities, “And When” is religion. Spoken word rhymes become heartthrob tempos and I swear they stole the final line from a local record label rep’s answering machine: “Hello, hello, are you there, are you there?” “Idle Contact” returns Ritalin to the dance and “Exfoliate” leaves for “Reuptake” vinyl skips. The last track is “For Dusts and Mists.” It sums the recording up efficiently. Piano and what sounds like ice cubes shaken in an empty glass by a patient exceeding the recommended Ritalin dose. The recording is weird as hell and thoroughly enjoyable. What else could be expected from an Ogre/Atkins collaboration? —Stillpulse
Thee Headcoatees
The Jimmy Reed Experience
Get Hip
Get Hip is well aware of exactly how cool this record is. I’m falling to my knees thanking the company for sending it. I doubt many SLUG readers realize how hard it is to find an actual 10 inch blues record. Thee Headcoatees are Billy Childish, the most prolific man in rock, Bruce Brand and Johnny Johnson Pay. Holly Golightly — I’m positive that isn’t her real name — contributes background vocals to some tracks. Bruce Brand also did the cover design. His goal was to create an authentic package. Jimmy Reed is a household name of the blues. The man’s music was so simple that even white people could get into it. It is no surprise to find one of the greatest garage bands ever doing a ten-inch album of Jimmy Reed covers. Garage bands have covered Jimmy Reed forever. It’s not a great surprise to find Billy Childish penning two songs in the Jimmy Reed tradition either. After all, Jimmy Reed wrote simple songs. What is a surprise, given Childish’s penchant for authenticity, is the lack of whispered vocals in the background. Jimmy Reed drank heavily. As legend has it, he was so far gone at certain recording sessions that he couldn’t remember the simple words to his simple songs. His wife stood behind him and whispered the words in his ear. Her whispering is audible on some Jimmy Reed recordings. Thee Headcoatees didn’t go that far, or maybe they did and that is Holly Golightly’s purpose? Whatever, to me this record is cherished. —Wa
Electric Frankenstein
Sick Songs
Get Hip
Punk rock on sunshine yellow vinyl. The trick here is to see how close Electric Frankenstein sticks to the formula. “Action High” has the “ohh, ohhh, ohh” chorus. The chord changes are minimal. “I’ll Be Standing” has minimal lyrics. “Back At You” has the countdown because there isn’t a punk rock band on Earth that can start playing all at the same time without the countdown. I believe the boys do play a different chord during the song. Hell, there’s a guitar solo! Jim Foster solos as Sal Canzonieri keeps the rhythm. How about “I Wish I Could” for a punk rock song? “I wish I could, I wish I could, I wish I could live on TV, I won’t live for today, I won’t, live on TV, I won’t, live on TV.” It doesn’t get any better than that. Second side, same as the first. No one taught Scott Wilkins one single thing and what he wants you to know is how to “crash and burn.” That’s “Learn To Burn.” “Clockwise” is a call to action. Most people “kill time, tick tock, throw it all away,” Electric Frankenstein is out to make a mark on the world. By now an experience that began as another session with another punk rock record has become enjoyable. These guys can’t play worth a shit and they don’t have much ability with the words, they do know how to turn a phrase and they do know how to put those three or four chords together in such a manner as to draw the listener into their world. I wouldn’t want to live there, but a short visit isn’t bad. —Wa
Read more CD reviews from the archives:
CD Reviews: May 1998
Records: March 1998
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