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Boston Phoenix CD Reviews
OCTOBER 26, 1998:
**1/2
THE EVINRUDES
(Mercury)
When Meredith Brooks proclaimed the right
kind of guitar sound could get her down on all fours, she was talking about the
sting of Muddy Waters slide circa 1956. Evinrudes guitarist Brian Reed
has an approach a million miles away from that -- some have deemed it a power
buzz -- but it prompts his longtime partner Sherry Cothran to sing as if she
were already involved in carnal capers. The Nashville indie band's major-label
debut is based on Cothran's licentious rasp and the group's earnest punch. In
tandem they help make a minor album a bit more memorable.
Cothran's audio eros is a mix of Brooks and Shirley Manson, which might help
the Evinrudes fit into a modern-rock play list somewhere. If it does, listeners
will get a dose of some rather novel lyrics penned by songwriter Reed. On "Have
Some Rain," Cothran offers a first-person tale of a woman fresh out of a
Florida funny farm. Her eating disorder has "got a strange name, something
'nervosa'/I think I look like Hoss on Ponderosa." That's a couplet worthy of
the Beasties. There's humor, or at least wit, in the air around The
Evinrudes, suggesting Brooks and Cothran -- a Dave Stewart and Annie Lennox
for the jangle crowd -- believe angst isn't without its absurd side. That's a
plus no matter what genre you're working.
-- Jim Macnie
***1/2 Mos Def & Talib Kweli are Black Star
BLACK STAR
(Rawkus)
After heading up Native Tongues, a loose affiliation of consciousness-raising
hip-hop artists, for almost a decade, A Tribe Called Quest have announced their
intention to call it quits. But the spirit of Quest lives on in one of
hip-hop's most impressive debuts of the year, Black Star. Impressive
solo MCs in their own right, Mos Def and Talib Kweli have been dropping cameos
and singles for more than a year now. As a team they merge heart, humor, and
intellect with poetic wordplay that questions the values and standards of
mainstream hip-hop in America. Using the ideas of Marcus Garvey as their
guiding principal, the duo flow over deep grooves remarkably free of
recognizable samples. The result is heavy enough to move serious hip-hop heads
and funky enough to fuel a house party, even as Def and Kweli get bookish and
paraphrase Toni Morrison on the status of black people: "Not strong, only
aggressive/Not free, we only licensed/Not compassionate, only polite/Not good,
but well behaved/Chasin' after death so we could call ourselves brave/Still
livin' like mental slaves."
-- Michael Endelman
*** Kurupt
KURUPTION
(Antra/A&M)
There was little reason to think
this workaday rapper would ever survive the diaspora that followed the downfall
of Death Row Records, the West Coast gangsta rap label that gave Kurupt and his
former partner Daz their brief moment of glory as the Dogg Pound. But not only
has this Philadelphia native emerged with his very own vanity label at A&M,
he has pieced together a double CD that seeks to prove his bi-coastal roots by
touching upon practically every West and East Coast style out there. The casual
mastery of this sweeping, unrelenting tour not only renders questions of
imagination and originality moot, it ends up sounding like the best gangsta rap
move of the year. As has been the case since the earliest days of heavy metal,
those who care about content as well as form might look elsewhere -- for
starters, Kurupt's crass vituperations make Snoop Dogg sound as genteel as
David Niven. Still, if our prejudices ever disintegrate the way our moral
standards have, there may come a day when all pop fans will consider this genre
exercise as "classic'' as Led Zeppelin II.
-- Franklin Soults
***1/2 Eddie Cusic
I WANT TO BOOGIE
(HMG)
If Eddie Cusic wants to
boogie, who the Hell's gonna stop him? At 72 -- a ripe age for a man making his
recording debut -- he's pretty much set in his ways. That's good, because this
resident of Leland, Mississippi, plays acoustic guitar like a chugging
piledriver. In fact, these 15 songs come off as an encyclopedia of basic blues
rhythms, delivered with an authority established in more than 50 years of
performing around his home town. Unlike his ex-bandmate Little Milton, Cusic
never left Leland to find a career in the North. Instead, he farmed while he
raised a family and played weekend parties where he developed a powerful way of
thumping his instrument to cut through the festive din. Caught here solo, as he
usually plays, Cusic hits tunes by Muddy, Jimmy Reed, himself, and others in
his typically straightforward style. His finger picking simmers best when he's
working a polyrhythmic groove (as in "Worry You Off My Mind"). And his
sad-edged voice is a match for his no-nonsense guitar. It's baked hard as Delta
mud through years of house-party moaning.
-- Ted Drozdowski
***1/2 Diamanda Galás
MALEDICTION AND PRAYER
(Asphodel)
As sung
in church, the gospel standard "Live the Life" is a rousing, sermon-ending
send-off, the congregation's promise to remember the lessons of the pulpit
after they leave the pews. At the song's heart, though, is a rejection of
hypocrisy in general. So that when Memphis garage-punks the Oblivians covered
it last year -- this from the band who wrote "I'm Not a Sicko, There's a Plate
in My Head" -- the refrain became something like a threat.
But neither of these interpretations fits avant-diva Diamanda Galás
when she sings "Live the Life" toward the end of the program on her live album
Malediction and Prayer. Returning to the terrain of 1992's The
Singer -- applying her blood-curdling, multi-register gothic shriek and
moan to spirituals, bucket-of-blood blues, and R&B standards -- she turns
"The Thrill Is Gone," Son House's soul-chilling "Death Letter," and Johnny
Cash's "25 Minutes To Go," into a funereal cabaret of the damned, her
impossible trills and basso rumblings mounting a litany of anguish,
determination, and loss. By the time she sings the words "I'm gonna live the
life I sing about in my songs," the refrain sounds not like a promise, or a
threat, but like the most unbearable of curses, the words of one who is doomed
to darkness, almost like a warning to the rest of us who would follow her, even
though she would not relieve herself of the spell if she could.
-- Carly Carioli
*** Dash Rip Rock
PAY DIRT
(PC Music)
If Jason & the Scorchers
cross Hank Williams with the Ramones, Dash Rip Rock are a looser, friendlier
cross of Marty Robbins and the Titanics -- both of whom get covered on their
eighth and best album. The New Orleans trio's hard-working/hard-drinking ethos
makes them consistently fun on stage, but it hasn't always translated to disc.
Their pseudo-hit so far was "Let's Go Smoke Some Pot," a joky throwaway from a
couple years back.
Paydirt marks their first serious bid for airplay, with help from
former Dash drummer Fred LeBlanc, who's now making waves with Cowboy Mouth. He
tones down the band's novelty side, bringing out a more streamlined mix of
pop/country and '60s garage. They even do a couple of love songs they likely
would have thrown out in the past. The disc's most obvious single, "She's Got a
Lot Of," is produced to sound like one. With a mournful lyric and Cajun fiddle,
"Markers Down" is as far from the usual Dash as it gets. But the proudly
stoopid guitar/girlfriend metaphor of "String You Up" proves they haven't grown
all the way up.
-- Brett Milano
**1/2 Cracker
GENTLEMAN'S BLUES
(Virgin)
One might suspect that
Cracker are entering a period of the doldrums if it weren't that a certain
languid nonchalance has always been at the heart of their sound -- certainly at
the heart of lead singer David Lowery's distinct and shaggy drawl. Still, the
goings-on here tend to be so straightforward, you know a rocker's lament like
"The Good Life" is meant to be ironic only because it's being done by Cracker.
There are still antic touches, but they're fewer and farther between, with the
exception of "Lullabye," a toss-off crammed with whimsical free-associative
lyrics. For the most part Lowery and lead guitarist Johnny Hickman are content
to write pleasant exercises in various favored genres -- '70s rock ("Waiting
for You Girl"), country blues by way of the Stones ("Trials and Tribulations,"
"Wedding Day"), and a kind of laid-back, loping roots rock which is their
signature sound. But if the songs don't seem as sharp as they used to be, there
are still plenty of fine moments -- like the bit about the dog on "Hold of
Myself" -- that don't seem to mean anything but are just simply, plain cool.
-- Richard C. Walls
***1/2 Celine Dion
S'IL SUFFISAIT D'AIMER
(Sony)
Dion's second CD
produced in France (by Jean-Jacques Goldman, who also commanded D'eux,
her first) displays more facets of her artistry than the US CDs. The focus is
different from the love-forever steadfastness ballads of her English-language
work. In France, Dion offers orchestrated blues, operatic intimacy, and
righteous soul music, idioms on which the major French variété
stars of the last three decades -- France Gall, Jane Birkin, and
Myléne Farmer -- founded their mega-careers. She makes these genres her
own. The delicate forcefulness she imparts to "Zora sourit" and "Je chanterai,"
for example, soars more brightly than the sublimely dusky soprano of France
Gall. Her vulnerability in "Je crois toi," her power in "L'abandon," and the
comforting sureness of the CD's title song have an earthy realism unlike
Farmer's cool and horny dreaminess. Jane Birkin's sad-song oeuvre has nothing
as gritty as "Terre" and "Tous les blues sont écrits pour toi," power
blues in which Dion rides high and joyously.
Goldman's arrangements never slip into cliché or settle for a quick
hook; every measure of his music cuts against expectations, isolating Dion's
singing to bring a melody to life. True, she never reaches, in this ladylike
session, the youthful stridency and blissful rhythm that distinguish 1991's
Dion chante Plamondon, her rockingest CD. But Goldman's polish becomes
her. For a true Dion fan, this is, like Plamondon, a must-own CD.
-- Michael Freedberg

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