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Boston Phoenix CD Reviews
MARCH 23, 1998:
*** Vance Gilbert
SHAKING OFF GRAVITY
(Philo)
Flight has become a
recurring theme for Boston singer-songwriter Vance Gilbert. In the past, he's
sung of Amelia Earhart and of racing pigeons. On "Shaking Off Gravity," Gilbert
uses the theme to explore interpersonal relationships. He alludes to a
mythological tragedy during "Icarus by Night"; he explores the frustration of
lovers taking flight from each other. The humorous, between-song banter of his
live shows is missing, but Shaking Off Gravity compensates with personal
revelation and Gilbert's passionate delivery. He produced the album himself,
and it's more sparsely arranged than his earlier efforts, though additional
tone colors are supplied by Everett Pendleton (electric guitar), Vinx (udu),
John McCann (mandolin), Cliff Eberhardt (dobro), Matt Glaser (violin), Patty
Larkin (accordion), and Dee Carstensen (harp). Yet the spotlight remains on
Gilbert's delicate acoustic fingerpicking and his pure and soulful tenor.
-- Craig Harris
*** The Bells
THE ULTIMATE SEASIDE COMPANION
(Hit It!)
Don't be fooled
by the innocuous band name, or the new label affiliation: the Bells is former
Ministry/Revolting Cocks affiliate and ex-Wax Trax recording artist Chris
Connelly -- collaborating, this time, with Gastr del Sol dude Jim O'Rourke and
former Ministry drummer Bill Rieflin. You can't blame the Scottish-born singer
for wanting to distance himself from his aggro-industrial past, particularly in
light of his newfound appreciation of subtle melodicism and soft acoustic
mellow dramas. The disc's title does maintain the nautical theme of his last
Wax Trax offering (Shipwreck), and as usual, Connelly sounds as if he
were swimming in a sea of Bowie, somewhere between the Isle of Hunky Dory
and the rise of Ziggy Stardust. That despite his obvious desire to
refer to, as the press bio points out, Nick Drake and the Tindersticks with
haunting folk-rock arrangements and surrealistic poetry (nautically themed, of
course). He can't help it if he sounds like The Man Who Sold The World -- so
much so that The Ultimate Seaside Companion is probably the best Bowie
disc since, hell, Scary Monsters.
-- Matt Ashare
**
RHYTHM & QUAD 166 Vol. 1
(EastWest)
Once a year or so Atlanta's
bass scene provides some ridiculous, inescapable, wonderful hit -- "Dazzey
Duks," "C'mon and Ride It (The Train)." But that's only the public face of a
mini-industry that's always cranking out woofer-taxing tracks that are huge in
the Deep South and mostly ignored elsewhere. Rhythm & Quad collects
singles from bass up-and-comers, and though it's got the sound for the cars
that go boom, it's a little disappointing, mostly because it's not quite crass
enough.
It's a given that bass records are going to be made according to a specific
formula -- the basic beat hasn't changed since "Planet Rock," because that's
what makes the asses shake -- but the ones that are the most fun are usually
the dumbest and dirtiest, too. The majority of these tracks come across as some
kind of crossover attempt, but the singing and rapping aren't quite interesting
enough on their own to break free of the big boom's gravitational pull. There
are a few exceptions. B.M.E.'s "Kissable Spot" adapts smooth harmony R&B to
bass; "Stationwagonpimpin'," from Sammy Sam and Skinny Man, is as insistent as
"MyBabyDaddy" if not as clever. And the skit "MC Foul-Mouth" neatly tweaks the
style's reflexive cussing.
-- Douglas Wolk
*** Loudon Wainwright III
LITTLE SHIP
(Charisma)
Loudon Wainwright
isn't aging very well, which is good news for his art. His droll little songs
of trepidation and perplexity have grown richer now that getting older has
become a permanent subtext. Not that he's all that direct about it: only one of
the 15 originals here, "The Birthday Present II," addresses that feeling of
sentimental dread one gets when realizing that there's more -- much more --
life behind than ahead. But this feeling whiffs through the various
one-more-broken-relationship songs, heightens the sense of improbability that
he has actually raised children on "Bein' a Dad" ("You got to shoe 'em and
clothe 'em/And try not to loathe 'em"), and adds a patina of absurdity to the
social-commentary parody "Mr. Ambivalent" (a "Nowhere Man" for people who can't
decide which socks to wear). It's all oddly heartening -- here's a man heading
toward the far side of middle age and he's still obsessing over the inflections
his lover leaves on his message machine ("OGM"). Wainwright has always sounded
cleverly cranky, but now he's starting to sound weirdly wise. He knows that the
small sufferings never end -- and that that in itself is pretty damn funny.
-- Richard C. Walls
**1/2 Junkie XL
SATURDAY TEENAGE KICK
(Roadrunner)
The
Amsterdam-based techno outfit Junkie XL deliver innovative, hard-hitting beats
on their debut CD, scoring in spite of the annoying atonal raps of former Urban
Dance Squad dude Silver Surfering RudeBoy. At his best, RudeBoy comes across as
a low-grade Mike D. He manages the low-intensity tracks, but Saturday
Teenage Kick opens by highlighting his worst tendencies -- the screeching
vocal performance of "Underachievers." And RudeBoy's lyrics are just as bad:
"Be the coolest, Mr. Nuisance/Mogul cruisin'/Limo usin'/Tax-rate
abusin'/Counterfeit usin'/Snake-attack impostor," he spits on "Billy Club."
Fortunately, the controlling force behind Junkie XL is mixman Tom Holkenborg, a
capable DJ whose bass-boosted beats have caught the ear of techno luminary DJ
Keoki. Holkenborg weds trance and hardcore beats with extraordinary intuition,
keeping the mix fresh with underwater effects, backwards tape loops, and other
sonic embellishments. The best way to save this package would be to throw away
the rapper.
-- Katherine Brown
*** Joe Satriani
CRYSTAL PLANET
(Epic)
Of all the current inhabitants
of the shred-guitar subgenre, Satriani's the most consistently rewarding,
probably because his music is conceived as music, not just as a platform for
fretboard heroics. Crystal Planet is another fine collection of
instrumentals, and considerably heavier than his last album, 1995's
comparatively laid-back Joe Satriani.
Things get off to a powerful start with "Up in the Sky," as the urgent pace
and energy of Satch and his band (Stu Hamm on bass and Jeff Campitelli on
drums) prove more important than the inevitable yet gratifyingly short solo.
And just in case you were concerned Joe didn't get enough blowing time on that
one, "House Full of Bullets" follows up with some fluid, bluesy breaks. Over
the course of 15 tracks, there are a few departures from the basic formula: the
lovely sound painting "A Piece of Liquid," the solo rumination "Z.Z.'s Song,"
the experiment in 5/4 time "Trundrumbalind." But in general the goal is to lay
down some mighty rock, and then rock some more.
-- Mac Randall
*** DJ Spooky
SYNTHETIC FURY EP
(Asphodel)
A self-referential,
science-fiction-savvy writer/artist/musician in a hip-hop landscape that prides
playas over thinkers, DJ Spooky -- a/k/a Paul Miller -- went from being 1996's
avant-electronica critical darling to 1997's pomo punching bag following the
release of the trippy, collagist soundscapes on his shrewd debut, Songs of a
Dead Dreamer. But even as New York scribes blasted him for the circuitous,
academic syntax and $10 vocabulary of his self-penned liner notes -- only
critics are allowed to do that! -- Spooky emerged on several fronts at once:
remixing Metallica for the Spawn soundtrack; texture-toasting on Ryuichi
Sakamoto's symphonic Dischord; appearing on an album of works by
20th-century composer Iannis Xennakis; jamming with Sonic Youth's Lee Ranaldo;
preparing a book titled Flow My Blood the DJ Said; and hanging his art
at the Whitney Biennial.
Fury brings jump-cut drum 'n' bass grooves and pounding funk loops into
his trademark echo-heavy stereo spectrum, drawing on uncredited samples like
the slashing, shower-scene string section from Bernard Herrmann's Psycho
soundtrack. Deteriorating train whistles, fax/modem squeals, distant sax
meanderings, and surprisingly supple scratching and turntable moves distill in
a grainy, lo-fi sonic contraband that evokes the Burroughsian cut-and-paste
dialectic of freaks, dreams, semiotic riddles and space-age distortions from
where Spooky drew his still apt alias: the "Subliminal Kid." So, word up: who's
playin' who?
-- James Rotondi
**1/2 b tribe
SENSUAL SENSUAL
(Atlantic)
Sometimes in this uneven set
of 13 tracks, b tribe's music sounds exactly like Enigma's. Sometimes it's just
like the Gipsy Kings'. Best are those songs that sound like both:
"Háblame," "Desperada," and the title tune. The two styles work, when
joined, as a kind of aural costume drama, very exotic indeed, and very
uninhibiting. Once you've accepted orchestrations of Enigma-like odor
languishing alongside flamenco guitar and Kings-ish vocals, it's no stretch at
all to see yourself linking all manner of exotic scenes. For example: waterside
sounds and Mexican canción in "Sa trincha" (folks who've heard
Montreal's Lhasa de Sela sing her 1997 CD La Llorona will be less
surprised by this one). Jazz, Enigma, and soul in "Sometimes." And best of all,
the CD's exit track, "La única excusa," in which flamenco passion meets
Brooks & Dunn's country.
-- Michael Freedberg
*** 6 String Drag
HIGH HAT
(E-Squared)
Add this Raleigh outfit to the
roster of country-minded artists like the V-roys and Cheri Knight who have
found a cozy little home on the E-Squared label of Steve Earle and Ray Kennedy.
And chalk another one up for those boys, who sure do know how to pick 'em. 6
String Drag come at country-pickin,' foot-stompin', shot-shootin' goodness by
way of the Stones' Let It Bleed -- even if Kenny Roby does sometimes
sound a tad like Elvis Costello. But his voice, and his ability to turn a
phrase, is where the Elvis similarity ends. This is a CD that spills over with
lots of carousing gee-tars (Earle even drops by to pick a little acoustic on "I
Can't Remember"), bass fiddles, mandolins, and even a honking sax or two.
Steady strumming and drumming keeps tunes like "Ghost" and "Elaine" moving
along at a nice, jaunty clip -- kinda like a pick-up truck bumping along a dirt
track to the road house. 6 String Drag don't offer anything as essential as
their boss's last few albums, but that's okay. Sometimes having a good time
bumping along an old dirt road is enough.
-- Jonathan Perry
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