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Record Reviews
JUNE 29, 1998: GIRLS AGAINST BOYS Freak*on*ica (DGC)
As four trim cleancuts with high cheekbones, raised proper (harDCore), sent to
all the right schools (Dischord, Touch & Go), Girls Against Boys have always
been too smart, too good looking, and too loud for their own good. Constantly teetering
on the edge of pretension, their crowd turned on 'em like coke whores when they jumped
indie ship and signed with DGC. Bigger budgets, higher stakes, more pressure. Not
good. Unless you deliver, that is. Which GVSB - in fine corporate style - does; Freak*on*ica
is a throbbing, double-bass booming, sonic pulse, guitars like stroblights, drums
along the Mohawk, and Eli Janney whispering breathy tales of Studio 54 miasma. Urban
nightmares, cheap sex, bad drugs - NYC in a nutshell: "Park Avenue," "Pleasurized,"
"Vogue Thing." Sounds a lot like 1996's wickedly visceral Top Ten pollstar,
House of GVSB, only it's got a high sheen; no more buried vocals,
THE SMASHING PUMPKINS Adore (Virgin)
After the drug-related incidents involving Jimmy Chamberlain in 1996, the Smashing
Pumpkins decided to carry on their tour without the massively hard-hitting drummer.
Having effected them musically, professionally, and emotionally, the journey down
the rocky road of a friend and colleague's drug addiction and the climax of his firing
were prophecies of the Pumpkins' direction. The product of the maelstrom is most
definitely Adore. The latest in the Pumpkins' repertoire finds Billy Corgan
et al. eschewing the power rawk sound of past works with emphasis on
Corgan's more introspective, self-reflective songwriting and the band's original
drummer, a drum machine. "Ava Adore" is the closest thing to a rocker on
the entire album followed by the bouncy "Perfect." Propelled by the drum
machine, "Appels & Oranjes" is a Garbage-inflected standout. It's a
solid piece of work, but Adore's shortcoming is that it's missing those jagged
peaks and spikes that were the meat of the best Smashing Pumpkins anthems, making
it slightly less than adorable for fans of the Rawking Pumpkins.
JOSH ROUSE Dressed Up Like Nebraska (Slow River/Ryko)
Twenty-five year old Josh Rouse has a gift. He can dip into the same emotional
well that every young arteest pulls from and pour out pitchers of the standard songwriting
leitmotif: loneliness, loss, disappointment, disenchantment, etc. When Rouse does
it, though, what comes out doesn't sound bored, tired, self-absorbed, or even sappy.
Instead, this Nebraskan turned Nashvillain's debut, a dark roots-pop album, manages
to seduce the listener despite its predominantly disconsolate complexion. Part of
the draw may be poetic images in miniature like, "I could help you open and
unfurl" ("Suburban Sweetheart"), and "A silent phone is all you
got" ("Late Night Conversation"). The rest of the charm may be Rouse's
hollow yet warm voice, which can go instantly from a Grant Lee Phillips near-falsetto
to a Jeff Martin aridity, allowing him to pull off lines like, "I dreamed last
night you never not old and gray" without a trace of Stipe pretension. Yep,
Rouse has a gift all right. And don't think he doesn't know it, either; the first
four words on Dressed Up Like Nebraska are, "I've got a gift."
LUCINDA WILLIAMS Car Wheels on a Gravel Road (Mercury)
Not many artists can leave their fans waiting six years for
a new release and expect them to still care. Lucinda Williams is that kind of artist,
however, and thankfully Car Wheels on a Gravel Road delivers in ways that
only the work of an exceptional songwriter can. It's certainly no departure from
her past work; she's still conjuring Southern rural life, capturing everyday events
with startling clarity while continuing to use folk-rock and country blues for a
deep-rooted foundation. Yet the images on Car Wheels are a bit more pointed
and the melodies reverberate longer into the night than just about anything she's
come up with previously. All the songs link to her past in some way. "Drunken
Angel," an ode to legendary deceased Austin songwriter Blaze Foley exposes both
his tortured soul and her heartfelt grief at his passing. There are also tunes titled
after towns from the South like "Jackson," "Greenville," and
"St. Charles," and though the subject of each is different, they each connect
to a memory from her childhood that is sure to the touch the listener as well. Throughout,
Williams sounds convincingly and alternately self-assured, sexy, frail, and distressed,
characteristics she's always possessed but never with this much power or charm.
LAURIE LEWIS Seeing Things (Rounder)
Of Laurie Lewis' eight offerings, this is possibly the least impressive, which
means it's merely damn good rather than great. Everything that has made this Bay
Area songwriter one of America's finest purveyors of old-time folk music is still
in place: her magnificent fiddling, her warm, sweet voice, and Tom Rozum's outstanding
mandolin playing. In many areas, however, Lewis seems to stray from her old-time
sound, especially on "Visualize," with its overdone harmonies. A great
artist will always want to stretch a bit, but if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Still,
such criticism unfairly detracts from what really is a nice work; Lewis retains her
sense of whimsical fun on "Kiss Me Before I Die," and stretches out on
"Manzanar," a dark song by her neighbor Tom Rozum about WWII Japanese internment
camps, which finishes on a surprisingly optimistic note. And Lewis continues her
love affair with Texas (she's been known to wax rhapsodic about Texas bluebonnets,
and her management is based in Austin) on "I'll Take Back My Heart," a
conjunto number with Austinite Bradley Jaye Williams sounding a lot like Flaco Jimenez.
A slump album? Other artists should strive to be this "unimpressive."
PERNICE BROTHERS Overcome by Happiness (Sub Pop)
With a hard jerk of the songwriter's steering wheel Joe Pernice comes swerving
off the Great Americana Highway and skidding into one of those sleepy subdivisions
of pretty pop houses that all look alike. His former band, Massachusetts minimalist
hicks the Scud Mountain Boys, were around from the beginning of the neo-country appreciation
boom, and they carved a unique niche for themselves with their stark arrangements
and musical somnambulism. Three highly lauded albums full of ultra-slow and gloomy
tunes later, Pernice is ready to wake up and smell the melody. His new project for
Sub Pop, the Pernice Brothers (including brother Bob) is as much a departure as is
conceivably possible save shaving his head and joining a ska band. It's an unabashed
pop album, pretty and mellow, with all the sounds and tricks of the Byrds and Big
Star, but none of the fun. "Monkey Suit" is nice, the string accompaniment
to the guitar solo one of the more natural moments on the album. "Clear Spot"
and "Chicken Wire" have their bits of pure pleasure too, but for the most
part it just seems like the same old thing. Boring. Pernice's lilting voice bumps
awkwardly on its new path, making Overcome by Happiness seem like a wrong
turn.
THE HORTON BROTHERS Roll Back the Rug.... It's the Horton Brothers (Texas Jamboree)
RICARDO LEMVO & MAKINA LOCA Mambo Yo Yo (Putumayo)
So you're hosting a party and having a hard time choosing the music. Sure, you
want to please everybody, but without resorting to the lowest common denominator
(radio). And fer chrissakes, you want to dig it, too. The solution: Mambo Yo Yo,
the second release from Congolese born Los Angeles resident Ricardo Lemvo. Aided
by his crack band, Makina Loca, and producer-player Niño Jesús Pérez
(a prime component of L.A.'s mid-Eighties salsa scene), Lemvo mixes Congolese rumba
and Cuban son montuno into tropical delight on Mambo's 10 tightly-edited
tracks. Packed full of party hoppin', hip swingin' goodness, Mambo Yo Yo is
bound to itch everyone's party scratch, from the soukous shuffle of "No
Me Engañes Más" to the easy tropical rhythm of "Él de la
Rumba Soy Yo (Afrika Mokili Mobimba)" to the danceable groove of flute-inflected
"Biloló." The secret: Lemvo's golden voice floating over Makina Loca's
serious Latin and Central African rhythms. It's hard to imagine anyone listening
to Mambo, a Congolese term that translates as "an event" or "gathering,"
without cracking a satisfied smile. And if they don't, you can bet you don't want
them at your party.
TRICKY Angels With Dirty Faces (Island)
Incidental music for botched suicides, sloppy miscarriages, and the hateful rutting
of ex-lovers, Tricky's third outing is grim, grimmer, grimmest - a slow dive backwards
into the bubbling morass of urban dread and seething beats. Aided and abetted this
time out by Polly Jean Harvey, Anthrax's Scott Ian, and longtime collaborator Matrina
Topley-Bird, Angels With Dirty Faces is a thicker, phatter take on the strains
of his previous Pre-Millennium Tension. Part monotonal crooner with stillborn
heart on his sleeve (check out his (mis)appropriation of Billie Holiday's "Carriage
for Two"), part unsullied psychopomp rage ("I wanna blow my head off in
Seattle" he slurs in the nasty "Tear Out My Eyes"), Tricky is the
sly, sick, dog-end of illbient bad news. All three of his releases, Maxinquaye,
Pre-Millenium Tension, and now this have been marked with headlong growth
and a distinct stylistic "can you top this" feel. Amazingly, Tricky outdoes
himself again: Angels... is filled with knotted loops and debauched programming
that leaves the listener alternately anxious and wildly expectant. It's nothing that
you'd want to smile about, but a scowl and a boot to the kidneys go a long way these
days.
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The recent explosion of the revival scene has
led to something of a semantic split among its chroniclers. Take Austin's hillbilly
honky-tonkers the Horton Brothers: welcome throwback or tired copycats? Derivative
or just traditional? Unimaginative or respectful of the form? Even their 10-gallon-hat-and-a-string-tie
look is outdated - er, authentic. At any rate, the Horton Brothers do their
damndest to make you believe the last 40 years never happened. On Roll Back the
Rug.... they do faithful imitations of their heroes, which surely include the
Everlys, Louvins, and Buddy Holly: short songs - 14 of 'em in 33 minutes - tender
harmonies, and a sweet-natured innocence that's damn near precious. That said, they
do it smartly; the mostly original Roll Back the Rug features fine singing
(that's Billy with the sentimental tenor, Bobby with the gutsier baritone), solid
rhythm, an appropriately reedy guitar, and some good guestwork on the piano by way
of T Jarrod Bonta. Bygone, true to their roots, old-fangled - whatever you
call it - the Horton Brothers do it well.
