CD Reviews Pt. 2: July 1997

The Minus 5
The Lonesome Death Of Buck McCoy
Malt Records

When last viewed, The Minus 5 had released one full-length CD and an EP on the ESD label. Today Scott McCaughey (Young Fresh Fellows) has started a new label and released another Minus 5 album. Some names have departed, some names are added and some remain the same. The Minus 5 is a side project for members of REM, The Posies, everyone in The Presidents of The United States of America and other groups. 

The band had a song on the John Lennon tribute album so it is no surprise that much of the CD sounds like an extended tribute with Peter Buck and McCaughey, not Lennon, writing the songs. Light jangly guitar pop with a few studio tricks thrown in for good measure. With The Presidents on board, it is slightly surprising that the songs are grounded and well written. No wacky stuff allowed. This isn’t a common everyday garage pop album, nor is it a sloppy, thrown-together fast-buck project. The mid-60s shine all over again and they even close with a “Sweet Jane” rewrite titled “Hate Me More.” When searching the bins for a pleasant way to spend an hour, look for The Minus 5. —Cory Dini

Kenickie
At The Club
Warner Bros. 

The latest British sensation is three girls and a boy singing pop punk. The girls play guitars, bass and sing and the boy is left to drum.The girls are all 19 and the boy is 20. The band has opened for the Ramones and toured with 60 Ft. Dolls.Their American debut contains all of their English hits and some new songs.The songs have some attitude and the girls are competent with their instruments, fitting someplace between The Muffs and Sleater-Kinney. Their professed love for Gary Numan is best demonstrated by “Robot Song” — a profound analysis on my part? The disc pretty much chirps and flutters along with a lot of the yeah-yeah-yeahing, la-la-laing, ah-ah-ah common to British bands. “Punka” might be the best example in the audience for the CD. “When I grow up I want to be a punka too. P-U-N-K-A, punka, P-U-N-K-A, punka.” We have Hanson, we have the Spice Girls (who Kenickie don’t care much for) and we have Ruby. Now we have Kenickie. Their audience might have their hair in spikes and a collection of The Chubbies, Bikini Kill, Lunachicks, Hola and Lois — possibly Team Dresch CDs, but the teenybopper factor remains in place. Bring them across the ocean and let’s see how they do live. —Icky 

John Taylor
Feelings Are Good and Other Lies
DeRock 

Ann Leighton is nearly as insufferable as that guy who was attempting to find someone to interview Kip Winger. “As a publicist, I’m committed to John Taylor, as are many national publications and baby magazines including those created to honor John’s former band, Duran Duran.” What? “HYPNO magazine editor David Jenison wrote that Duran Duran was ‘the most important band in the world for their time period.’” Fer sure, dude. The thing is this new John Taylor CD is a hell of a lot better than the Kip Winger release. I could give a shit what John did with Duran Duran, The Power Station or Neurotic Outsiders. What has he done with Feelings Are Good and Other Lies? For one thing, he lost the mindless, vapid nature of Duran Duran. The disc doesn’t have any disco! There’s some funk, actually quite well done, and a lot of rock. I wouldn’t call it the greatest CD I’ve ever heard, but at least I can make it all the way through more than once. “Everyone Is Getting It but Me” becomes an annoyance long before the extended nature has expired, and “Always Wrong” seems more than a little contrived, but remember, this man was involved in creating some of the worst music ever released. He’s studied what’s hip and happening, at least as of 1992. Extensive vocal treatments are used, and he ventures into the feedback/folk territory Neil Young staked out a long time ago on “Look Homeward Angel.” His sensitive singer/songwriter/pony-tail guy nature is on full display with “Losing You.” “Nothing can compare to you” is an original lyric? But hell, at least he mixes things up when imitating.

All the sorry freaks who purchased all those pathetic Duran Duran discs might want to check out John Taylor’s new one. You won’t like it because it doesn’t sound like Duran Duran, but at least it can be a part of your “collection.” I’ll give him a C+. Welcome to SLUG Entertainment Weekly. 

 —Giovanni

Iggy and the Stooges
Year Of The Iguana
Bomp 

Year Of The Iguana is the seventh in the still-to-be-completed Iguana Chronicles, one of Greg Shaw’s most ambitious projects. Two completed masters from the Raw Power sessions appear. The rest of the disc is gleaned from rehearsal tapes and outtakes. According to Shaw’s liner notes, “Scene Of The Crime” and “I Got A Right” offer a tantalizing glimpse of the original, suppressed version of Raw Power. This information seems strange in light of the fact that Iggy himself has remixed Raw Power and has endorsed the CD in advertisements. Whatever, I can certainly never get enough Iggy, and Year Of The Iguana is a prime example of why The Stooges were such an influence on countless current and past objects of style. Rare and trashy rock ‘n’ roll without any pretentious artiness or musical proficiency. No Juilliard- or Berkeley-trained infiltrate with cascades of technically precise, yet creatively lacking notes. Even as the entire left channel drops out in the middle of “Rubber Legs,” the mood remains. Decadent, deranged, addicted and, for at least one of these recordings, living in a mental institution — here’s Iggy going off. The live “Open Up & Bleed” and especially “Gimme Some Skin” are as punk as it gets. Everything coming later is merely built on the foundation. —Thorazine Boozer 

Goodbye Harry
I Can Smoke
Cruz

This release has been neglected for too long. I Can Smoke is your basic everyday punk rock with talent in the band. Any band can finance a punk rock CD these days. The cost of CD duplication goes down faster and faster. Goodbye Harry rock around the clock with ass-kicking songs and ass-kicking attitudes. I’m not about to pull out a magnifying glass to investigate the lyrical content, but as the words fly by, it’s certain that their lives are in the usual fucked-up state. Speedy picking and the ability to enunciate in rapid-fire spoken-word fashion are the result of two decades of public school-recommended Ritalin prescriptions. Really. Why do you think most of these bands play so fast? It’s fucking Ritalin. It’s a government-sponsored punk rock spawning Ritalin prescribing conspiracy. The reason I’m attracted to Goodbye Harry is their lack of sugarcoating. I’ve heard too many of those sweet little punk rock discs. A sugar overdose is fine once in a while, but when the family doctor enters the picture and prescribes amphetamines to children, the result is usually more “artistic.” These boys can do metal, country and bluegrass just as good as they do punk. Gregg Ginn and Jello Biafra have been down every road there is. SST, Cruz and Alternative Tentacles remain the labels to watch when in search of authentic, ear-pleasing music. Since Ginn has given this band his stamp of approval, I’ll add mine. —Idiot Savant

Duke Robillard
Dangerous Place
Pointblank

Don’t worry, people. You won’t be reading a review of Duke Robillard’s new CD anyplace else in Salt Lake City — except SLUG. The CD might have made its way to the dailies, it might have made its way to Grid, it might have made its way to the Private Eye or whatever in the hell it’s called nowadays, and it might have made its way to the Event or Audio Spank, but the writers, excuse me, “critics” at those tree-wasting papers won’t get it.

Duke Robillard founded Roomful of Blues. The band has continued without his input since 1979. Roomful of Blues hasn’t suffered from the lack of Robillard; if anything, they’ve become better. In 1997, it is interesting to hear Robillard going all the way back to early Roomful of Blues and, in fact, further back than what they do. Dangerous Place sounds like a record. It sounds like a cherished, valuable vinyl circle from about 1953. It appears that Robillard has given up on blues and rock ‘n’ roll completely. The CD isn’t rock or blues. No sir, this is complete and total R&B from back when R&B meant something besides slick Bobby Brown or, as much as I enjoy her music, Erykah Badu. The man entered a time warp and came out with his best recording ever. I’ve viewed Robillard on several occasions, and while his belly is currently competing with his ego in size, there is little doubt what he can do when a guitar reaches his hands. No one is cleaner, no one can swing like Robillard, no one is more deserving of the big ego. If the DJ computer at the “oldies” station programmed “Take My Word For It” or “Can’t Remember To Forget,” the phones would light up like a drag-strip Christmas tree. “Who is this and why don’t I remember it? Because you’re stupid? Dangerous Place slays all pretenders to the throne. If this CD doesn’t top the Billboard Magazine Blues Chart and the Jazz Chart in upcoming months, then I’ve lost any remaining faith in the credibility of that magazine and the record-buying public. If Robillard tours the disc, I’ll be there to argue with his asshole “road manager” once again and marvel at the ability of one of the all-time greats of time. —Weezing 

Dead Boys
Younger, Louder and Snottyer – The Rough Mixes
Bomp 

Here’s another treasure from the vaults of Bomp. Dead Boys’ Young, Loud and Snotty is an all time classic of punk. This CD is that album as originally mixed by the Dead Boys themselves. An apparent bootleg of these tapes has appeared in the past, but this is the authorized version. The most interesting aspect of the CD is the drum mix. “Sonic Reducer” has them swirling from one channel to the other in pretty much classic rock fashion. There are instances of dropout all through the CD. Cheetah Chrome gives Genya Raven the well-deserved credit for the final mix. The guitars on this version don’t scorch the eardrums. The entire production is flat. When Raven entered the picture some of the excessive soloing was removed, that drum mix from “Sonic Reducer” was removed, Bator‘s vocals were pumped up and the snap and crackle missing from the rough mix was added. As an artifact Younger, Louder and Snottyer is fine, but I prefer the 1977 Sire release in vinyl form. —Elliot 

Corduroy
Dad Man Cat
Hollywood 

Time now to get all funky and “hip.” Time now to pull out our old-time Hammond B-3 instruction manual and to remember that the king of all Hammond B-3 jazzbos will appear at the local Jazz and Blues Festival. SLUG: “Who do you claim as your greatest influence? Corduroy: “Why Jimmy Smith of course.” Keeping the thought of Jimmy Smith forefront in the brain as the old CD spins away, the disc becomes a slice of instrumental magic. It’s all funky and shit, it’s like watching ‘70s reruns on the USA Network. It’s like Hawaii Five-O and Miami Vice all rolled into one nice, little, neat soundtrack package. Big ‘fros, big bell bottoms, bare mid-riffs, hip huggers, The Brady Bunch, my God, Corduroy is so ‘90s. How come Bootie Quake and Disco Drippers don’t do this shit? 

Acid jazz sounds so retro to me. That doesn’t mean I don’t eat up every single disc I encounter (Thanks Kate), but I just can’t visualize the music as modern. I would certainly rather listen to retro acid jazz than some ridiculous, new, what-do-they-call-that-trash, contemporary instrumental recording. If Corduroy ever came to town I’d be at the front of the line to see them, except hauling a Hammond B-3 around the world is more work than the band probably wants to deal with. Dad Man Cat is a CD for pot smoking. Get some exceptionally high grade pot, none of that hippie-burn-out skink. You pay for what you receive. Take about three hits. If it’s high grade, more than that will cause a psychotropic episode and hallucinations. Place this CD in your home unit and fly. The world stood still, I swear. —Cheeba-coca? 

Brilliantine
Vainglory
Hepcat 

Brilliantine’s publicist is another squeaky wheel getting the grease. She’s hounded me like Gianni trying to get writing before deadline. Brilliantine is comprised of Dave Derby of the Dambuilders and some other people. The other people aren’t listed any place and press releases disappear faster than beer around my house. “Goodbye to St. Bishop’s Park” isn’t my favorite song of the CD. That song opens things, and there are times when I don’t make it past the first song. The second song is much better. “At Least That’s The Way” begins the Sebadoh tribute which makes up the rest of the album. I happen to love Sebadoh and I can’t find fault with a band wanting to sound like them, as long as they mix things up with enough creativity to sound partially original. So what if Brilliantine has all the brilliant pop songs and hooks? So what if Brilliantine engages in some guitar feedback and noise when the mood strikes them? So what if Brilliantine has worked a lo-fi feeling into the production? When I can’t find the Sebadoh CDs in my stacks I might run across Brilliantine, and that is the next best thing.

With the exception of the opener, Vainglory is filled with engaging rock and roll. Darby, I’m assuming he does the majority of the vocal work, is in superlative voice throughout. I can always stand some dissonance with my hooks and Brilliantine has plenty. The hit, as if, would be “Mistake” or “Moving Forward.” It doesn’t get much better than those two. Both tunes bring the craftsmanship of Beach Boy Carl Wilson to mind. A band could do a lot worse in the influence search than Barlow and Wilson. There’s your review Miss Publicist. Nice disc. Now go talk to the radio and retail people and see how they’re doing with the corporate structure responsible for breaking any band in America today. —Corporate Whore

Read more CD reviews from 1997:
CD Reviews Pt. 1: July 1997
National CD Reviews: February 1997

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