UNKNOWN TREASURES
The Legacy Of Joy Division
By Chris Morris
     ÒSomeday we will die in your dreams,Ó Ian Curtis wrote in 1980, in the song ÒIn A Lonely Place,Ó penned for his band Joy Division. His lyric would outlive him: Curtis hanged himself in his Macclesfield, England home early in the morning of May 18, 1980, and the song would become the B side of the first single by New Order, the band formed by the surviving members of Joy Division.
     Curtis, one foot in the grave, successfully prophesied the ghostly presence he would become for a later generation of listeners.
     It would be easy to dismiss the cult that has grown up around Curtis in the intervening 15 years as a side effect of the kind of necrophiliac idiocy that has attached itself to self-destructive punk icons like Sid Vicious and Darby Crash. But, even acknowledging the abiding morbidity of much of Joy DivisionÕs music--the bandÕs posthumous album Closer plays like an extended suicide note--the groupÕs stately, glacial sound has retained an authoritative power that ultimately transcends the singerÕs grim end.
     Touching From A Distance, a memoir by CurtisÕs widow Deborah published in England this year by Faber and Faber, suggests that the musicianÕs premature demise at 23 was mooted much earlier. Ian Curtis is depicted as a remote, tormented soul: An epileptic subject to increasingly violent seizures, he was also a youthful substance abuser who tried to end his life while still in his teens. He emerges from the page as a wholly unpleasant human being--a sometimes viciously controlling martinet with his bandmates, a selfish, demanding and unfaithful husband who declined to even hold his infant daughter.
     However, the pain, angst, guilt, and high drama that wrenched Ian CurtisÕs brief life also animated the moving and uniquely compelling music of Joy Division.
     The quartet was a product of the late-Õ70s punk ferment in Manchester, which boiled over with startling singles and albums by such notables as Buzzcocks, the Fall, and Magazine. Originally known as Warsaw (after a song from David BowieÕs album Low, whose chilly ambience would have a pronounced influence on the groupÕs sound), Joy Division skillfully synthesized the work of such daring precursors as Bowie, Iggy Pop (especially such Bowie-produced albums as The Idiot, which Curtis listened to the night he died, and Lust For Life), and the Velvet Underground into a jarringly expressive and novel style.
     Joy Division ultimately spurned the revved-up punk rock style then prevalent on their scene for an echoing sound emphasizing Peter HookÕs cavernous, prominent bass, Bernard Sumner's washes of guitar and keyboards, and Stephen MorrisÕs martial, lock-step drumming. Over this doomy, disquieting foundation rose CurtisÕs preternaturally mature voice--stentorian, knotted, agonized as it moaned austere songs of dislocation, isolation, and impending mortality.
     Though Joy Division released only one EP, a handful of singles, scattered compilation tracks, and one full album, Unknown Pleasures, before CurtisÕs death, its reputation was already towering in its 1978-79 heyday. Two works issued in 1980 after Curtis took his own life would further cement the band's position: the single  ÒLove Will Tear Us Apart,Ó which, in light of Deborah CurtisÕs book, must be viewed as Ian CurtisÕs tortured viewpoint on his troubled marriage, and Closer, which survives as one of rock ÕnÕ rollÕs most extreme statements of absolute despair.
     Although Factory Records, the Manchester label that released all of Joy DivisionÕs material, went under in 1993, Unknown Pleasures and Closer remain in print in America on Qwest Records, as does Still, the 1981 jumble of unreleased studio tracks and live performances. In 1988, Factory assembled Substance, a compilation of English hits and elusive early sides; this album has now been largely supplanted by the new Permanent: The Best Of Joy Division, released here by Qwest/Warner Bros.
     Permanent is the best available single-disc introduction to the bandÕs music, since it eschews the obscure juvenilia (like the contents of the debut EP An Ideal For Living) that predominated on Substance and incorporates critical tracks from Joy DivisionÕs albums. The important singles--ÒLove Will Tear Us ApartÓ (heard in both its original form and in a jangling alternate mix by Don Gehman), ÒTransmission,Ó and the funereal ÒAtmosphereÓ--are all here, as are such essential entries in the canon as ÒSheÕs Lost Control,Ó ÒIsolation,Ó ÒHeart and Soul,Ó and ÒDead Souls.Ó  Neophyte listeners seeking a primer will get a corrosive entree here.
     Joy DivisionÕs somber music endured through the Õ80s, and inspired some unlikely cover versions--remember Grace JonesÕs nutty ÒSheÕs Lost Control,Ó or Paul YoungÕs candy-coated ÒLove Will Tear Us ApartÓ? In the age of tribute albums, it was of course inevitable that the band, with its indelible song catalogue, would inspire a full-length homage, and now Virgin Records has released Means To An End, comprising 14 new interpretations of some of the bandÕs best-known songs.
     Virgin A&R man Mark Williams, one of the executive producers of Means To An End, is an avowed Joy Division fan, and he generally avoided marquee-power names for the tribute, choosing instead to enlist performers who admired and understood the band and its songs.
     These include techno mix-master Moby; Smashing PumpkinsÕ Billy Corgan, who appears under the guise of Starchildren; former Opal and Dream Syndicate member Kendra Smith; and the Red Hot Chili PeppersÕ Dave Navarro and Chad Smith (who join with Michael Angelos of Plexi in the ad hoc unit Honeymoon Stitch). A raft of up-and-coming alternative acts--including Low, Codeine, Face to Face, Versus, and the much-coveted Girls Against Boys--also sign on. With the exception of Stanton-MirandaÕs entirely too chirpy version of ÒLove Will Tear Us Apart,Ó most hands turn in stirring readings of the Joy Division legacy.
     ÒDon't walk away in silence,Ó Ian Curtis cautioned on ÒAtmosphere.Ó He failed to heed his own advice, but Joy DivisionÕs music continues to ring a chord with contemporary listeners, a decade-and-a-half after CurtisÕs voice was prematurely stilled.


JOY DIVISION 1976--1980:

Ian Curtis, vocals 1976--1980
Bernard Sumner (aka Bernard Dicken, Bernard Albrecht), guitar 1976--1980
Peter Hook, bass 1976--1980
Stephen Morris, drums 1977--1980



JOY DIVISION SELECTED DISCOGRAPHY:

PERMANENT: THE BEST OF JOY DIVISION (Qwest/Warner Bros.) 1995
(Track Listing):
1. Love Will Tear Us Apart
2. Transmission
3. SheÕs Lost Control
4. Shadow Play
5. Day Of The Lords
6. Isolation
7. Passover
8. Heart And Soul
9. Twenty-four Hours
10. These Days
11. Novelty
12. Dead Souls
13. The Only Mistake
14. Something Must Break
15. Atmosphere
16. Love Will Tear Us Apart (Permanent Mix)


JOY DIVISION DISCOGRAPHY (continued):

SHORT CIRCUIT: LIVE AT THE ELECTRIC CIRCUS (Virgin UK,1978)
This 10-inch compilation featured the track ÒAt A Later DateÓ by the band Warsaw, which ultimately would become Joy Division.
 
AN IDEAL FOR LIVING (Enigma UK, 1978)
A four-song, 7-inch EP.

A FACTORY SAMPLE (Factory UK, 1979)
This compilation included the Joy Division tracks ÒDigitalÓ and ÒGlass.Ó

UNKNOWN PLEASURES (Factory UK, 1979); (Factory US, 1980); Qwest/Warner Bros., 1989)
Joy DivisionÕs debut album.

TRANSMISSION (Factory UK, 1979)
7-inch single.

EARCOM 2 (Fast UK, 1979)
A 12-inch EP compilation that included the Joy Division tracks ÒAutosuggestionÓ and ÒFrom Safety To Where.Ó

SORDIDE SENTIMENTALE (Sordide Sentimentalem, 1980)
This limited edition French release included the Joy Division tracks ÒAtmosphereÓ and ÒDead Souls.Ó

LOVE WILL TEAR US APART (Factory UK, 1980); (Factory US, 1981)
This seven-inch single cracked the Top 20 in the UK pop charts upon its release.

CLOSER (Factory UK, 1980); (Factory US, 1980); (Qwest/Warner Bros., 1989)
The full-length follow-up to Unknown Pleasures.

KOMAKINO/INCUBATION (Factory UK,1980)
A free flexidisc that also included the uncredited ÒAs You Said.Ó

SHEÕS LOST CONTROL/ATMOSPHERE (Factory US, 1980)
12-inch single.

ATMOSPHERE/SHEÕS LOST CONTROL (Factory UK, 1980)
12-inch single.

CEREMONY/IN A LONELY PLACE (Factory UK, 1981)
These two songs, written by Joy Division, were released by New Order after Ian CurtisÕs death. The recordings appeared in 7-inch and 12-inch versions.

STILL (Factory UK, 1981); (Qwest/Warner Bros., 1991)
A double album of studio and live material covering Joy DivisionÕs career output.

HERE ARE THE YOUNG MEN (Factory, 1982)
A longform video featuring the tracks ÒLove Will Tear Us Apart,Ó ÒTransmission,Ó and ÒSheÕs Lost Control,Ó among others.

ATMOSPHERE (Factory UK, 1988)

SUBSTANCE 1977--1980 (Factory UK, 1988); (Qwest, 1988)
Joy Division compilation.

THE FIRST PEEL SESSION (Strange Fruit UK, 1986)
A recording of the Feb. 14, 1979 radio sessions with John Peel.

THE SECOND PEEL SESSION (Strange Fruit UK, 1987)
A recording of the Dec. 10, 1979 radio sessions with John Peel.

THE PEEL SESSIONS (Strange Fruit UK, 1990)
A compilation of the two Peel sessions.

MARTIN (Factory UK, 1991)
A compilation of recordings produced by Joy Division producer Martin Hannett. The album includes Joy DivisionÕs ÒSheÕs Lost Control.Ó



OTHER TITLES THAT INCLUDE TRACKS BY JOY DIVISION AND NEW ORDER:

PALATINE (Factory UK)
A four-CD boxed set that tells the musical history of Factory Records.

TEARS IN THEIR EYES (Factory UK)
A compilation that includes Joy DivisionÕs ÒTransmissionÓ and New OrderÕs version of ÒCeremony.Ó

LIFEÕS A BEACH (Factory UK)
Contains tracks by New Order.

THE BEAT GROUPS (Factory UK)
Joy DivisionÕs ÒWildernessÓ is featured here.

SELLING OUT (Factory UK)
This title features Joy DivisionÕs ÒAtmosphere,Ó as well as tracks from New Order.


JOY DIVISION TRIBUTE:
A Means To An End: The Music Of Joy Division (Virgin) 1995
Artist, Track Listing:

1. Girls Against Boys, ÒSheÕs Lost ControlÓ
Girls Against Boys is a N.Y.-based quartet that records for Touch And Go Records.

2. Honeymoon Stitch, ÒDay Of The LordsÓ
Honeymoon Stitch features Dave Navarro and Chad Smith of the  Red Hot Chili Peppers.

3. Moby, ÒNew Dawn FadesÓ
The visionary music of Moby blends electronic, trance, hip-hop, and pop elements.

4. Low, ÒTransmissionÓ
Low is a Minnesota-based trio that records for Vernon Yard.

5. Codeine, ÒAtmosphereÓ
New York-based Codeine records for Sub-Pop Records.

6. Further, ÒInsightÓ
This Los Angeles-based group has released several 7-inch singles and an independent album.

7. Stanton-Miranda, ÒLove Will Tear Us ApartÓ
Stanton-Miranda actually has recorded for Joy DivisionÕs original U.K.-based label Factory.

8. Starchildren, ÒIsolationÓ
Smashing PumpkinsÕ Billy Corgan doubles as a member of this alternative outfit.

9. Kendra Smith, ÒHeart And SoulÓ
Smith is known to music aficionados as a former member of Dream Syndicate and Opal. She currently records for 4AD Records.

10. Versus, ÒTwenty-four HoursÓ
This New-York based group records for the indie label Teen Beat.

11. Desert Storm, ÒWarsawÓ
Dan Koretzky, head of ChicagoÕs Drag City record label, fronts this band, which records for Sea Note.

12. godheadSilo, ÒWalked The LineÓ
This Olympia, Wash.-based group has released several albums for the Kill Rock Stars label.

13. Face To Face, ÒInterzoneÓ
Based in Southern California, Face To Face records for Victory Records.

14. Tortoise, ÒAs You SaidÓ
This Chicago-based band records for Thrill Jockey Records.


PM DAWN'S NEW SONIC EXCURSION
The Gospel According To Prince Be
By Amy Linden
     Prince Be is explaining one of PM DawnÕs latest excursions in the often convoluted world of sample clearance. Capping off the groupÕs new album Jesus Wept is a cool little montage of covers: PrinceÕs Ò1999,Ó Talking HeadsÕ ÒOnce In A Lifetime,Ó and the late Harry NilssonÕs ÒCoconut.Ó OK. Now, since these are cover songs, no lawyers can barge in and demand payment, and the label doesnÕt have to wait for sample clearance. But buried underneath these cover versions are myriad samples of other peopleÕs music, and those other peopleÕs lawyers tried to collect some cold cash for their clients.
     Problem, Be?
     ÒI said, Ôfine, but I donÕt own the publishing on ÒOnce In A LifetimeÓ or ÒCoconut,ÓÕÓ smiles his Princely self coyly. So? ÒSo?Ó Be shrugs. ItÕs a hip-hop Zen Koan. If a sample falls in a forest but there are no lawyers...
     Reality and Be may be on much better terms than they were a few years ago (heÕs married with a baby and is at ease with the press and himself), but heÕs still nibbling on that cosmic cookie. He can launch into an expletive-riddled explanation as to why he loves Christ, then not see why his language and his spirituality might be at theoretical odds. And you canÕt help but think that the potential legal nightmare that sampling can evoke is just one more metaphysical good time for PM Dawn. The exchange reminds me that Prince Be can take minutes to ponder whether the expression Òmaybe, maybe not,Ó in fact means one and the same thing. In other words, reality and Be may be on better terms than they were a few years back, but there is still enough benevolent absurdity surrounding camp PM Dawn. Sample clearance? We laugh at sample clearance...or at least smile enigmatically.
     Lawyers be damned, and while weÕre at it, the hell with radio programmers and those folks at video. PM Dawn are perhaps AmericaÕs finest practitioners of pure pop. PM Dawn conjure up a luxurious, meticulously pristine sound that is, in the words of my pal Michael Shore, De La Soul meets Brian Wilson. The brothers Cordes, who hail from and continue to dwell in Jersey City, N.J., weave a delectable, intricate fabric with threads of rap, jazz, rock, psychedelia, soul and anything else they can get their adventuresome mitts on, running through it. ÒYou know what scares me?Ó asks Prince Be. ÒI think that thereÕs gonna be another form of music that I ainÕt gonna be able to understand. You know what I mean?Ó
     Jesus Wept, a title guaranteed to give Walmart the hives, is yet another sonic excursion into the land where there are no boundaries or rules. PM Dawn has not only leapt headfirst into the realm of the spirit (more on that later), but have advanced their search for a better technology for a brighter tomorrow. ÒWe pretty much indulge, a lot, in technology,Ó Be says. Ask Be if he finds technology dehumanizing and he laughs. ÒNow that doesnÕt say a lot about human beings, does it? Humans donÕt wanna be humans anymore...Actually, whoÕs to say?Ó he pauses. ÒYeah. You know technology does the work that people donÕt wanna do. Or maybe do wanna do. WhoÕs to say?Ó
     Be smiles his soft half-smile. ÒTechnology,Ó he declares, Òis gonna be the monster that eats itself.Ó  A monster maybe, or maybe not. But a monster that PM Dawn needs. ÒThere definitely was a technical aspect to recording Jesus Wept,Ó offers the normally low-key Jarret. ÒTo break it down, we pretty much used all the advanced technology that there is.Ó
     There are live instruments on the CD, although I failed the Òis it live or Memorex?Ó quiz as to the (non-live) drums on the gorgeous ÒApathy...Superstar.Ó But like many other artists, PM Dawn have found that chips and bytes have given them a much greater range of expression. Of course, in the process, PM Dawn stumbled on to a veritable techie Catch-22: ÒTo get that pretty much analog sound we had to do a lot of shit!Ó Jarrett laughs.
     No matter what they had to do or how they had to do it, it paid off. Jesus Wept is beautifully constructed pop--so pop that the old Òare they rap or notÓ question seems silly. ÒThis album pretty much answers a lot of questions for everybody.  To me, it was nothing but pure, sheer emotions, you know what I mean?Ó Be asks.
     Yeah, well I do, but PM DawnÕs beef with the rap community is the stuff of legend. Although Be realizes heÕs never gonna be seated next to anyone named Ice at a party, heÕs still a hip-hop disciple. And heÕs made peace with his arch nemesis, KRS-1. The two titans ran into each other in NYC. ÒI said Ôhi,Õ he said Ôhi.Õ  I said ÔI like your shit.Õ  He said ÔWell, I like yours, too.Õ  That was it.Ó
     Although Jesus Wept is devoid of the harder beats that colored PM DawnÕs two previous albums, it is still carrying on the rap tradition. Because Be sees himself as a sampling artist, and that distinction keeps PM Dawn in rapÕs sonic sphere. ÒWhen we came out, we were very close to traditional hip-hop. What we were saying was, we wanted to be artists. We didnÕt want hip-hop to be just hip-hop. We didnÕt want R&B to be just R&B.  We didnÕt want pop to be just pop. I was a singer, a rapper. I was everything. To me hip-hop could have gotten the utmost respect.Ó 
     Be stops for a second. ÒIÕm a sampling artist,Ó he continues. ÒAnd the reason why we sampled a lot of those songs is because thatÕs what we wanted to promote.Ó
     What they promote this time are snatches of Deep Purple, old fave Joni Mitchell (never met her, but, more importantly, she always clears the samples), and God. What was once metaphor is now straight-out testimonial. Jesus Wept is a Ògospel album.Ó OOOOhhh boy. Has somebody told Sandi Patti? ÒAnything spiritual, true, and honest is Gospel and thatÕs what Gospel music is...Ó Be taps the top of his soda can. He is thinking, sorting, shuffling, running all the possibilities. ÒI though it was something that was very spiritual, yet introspective, yet the connection to us all. This,Ó Be spreads his hands in an embracing circle, Òis what IÕm trying to figure out. IÕm just so curious, IÕm so astounded by something as divine to me as spirituality.Ó


PM DAWN are:
Prince Be/Reasons
J.C./The Eternal


ALBUM DISCOGRAPHY:

OF THE HEART, OF THE SOUL, AND OF THE CROSS
The Utopian Experience (Gee Street/Island, 1991)

THE BLISS ALBUM...
Vibrations Of Love And Anger And The Ponderance Of Life And Existence (Gee Street/Island, 1993)

JESUS WEPT (Gee Street/Island, 1995)


ARTISTS WHOÕVE WORKED WITH PM DAWN:
Shara Nelson
Philip Bailey
Paul Weller
Naomi Campbell
Elton John
George Michael
Simply Red
Jody Watley
Blessed Union Of Souls
The Shamen
Cathy Dennis
Charles And Eddie



SILVERCHAIR: Frogstomp (Murmur/Epic)
By Craig Rosen
     Sometimes being a teenager can be a drag. Just ask the members of Silverchair. Frogstomp, the first album by the trio, which consists of Daniel Johns, 16, and bassist Chris Joannou and drummer Ben Gillies, both 15, became the first debut album by a homegrown act to enter the Australian charts at No. 1.
     But success has its price. The band has been saddled with comparisons to Pearl JamÕs sound (in particular Eddie VedderÕs anguished vocals) and NirvanaÕs look (Courtney Love even thinks Johns looks like a young Kurt Cobain). It would be nice to say that such comparisons arenÕt valid, but thereÕs no way around them. In the chorus of the modern rock hit ÒTomorrow,Ó John sounds incredibly Vedder-like, while ÒIsraelÕs SonÓ plods along with a rhythmic thud, before erupting into a frenzy, a la Ten-era Pearl Jam. Silverchair, however, hasnÕt limited its inspirations to Pearl Jam. The haunting ÒSuicidal DreamÓ sounds similar to ÒFell On Black Days,Ó by another Seattle act, Soundgarden.
     If you can get past playing spot-the-influence, Frogstomp is a powerful hard rock album that is certainly as valid as anything by any of the other Pearl Jam knock-offs, whether it be BushÕs Sixteen Stone or the Stone Temple PilotsÕ Core. And given their age, you really canÕt blame these guys for aping their favorite bands. But you have to wonder: If Silverchair came out a decade earlier would they sound like Def Leppard or Bon Jovi?
     What Frogstomp does show is potential. JohnÕs vocals are strong and expressive beyond his years, and the trioÕs instrumental chops show these arenÕt just a bunch of kids banging around a garage. ItÕs also encouraging that Johns has claimed in recent interviews that he no longer likes Pearl Jam.
     HereÕs hoping that the rejection of their early inspiration will lead Silverchair down its own musical path and that it can survive growing up in public. If it does, Silverchair might really matter. ***


ALANIS MORISSETTE:  Jagged Little Pill (Maverick/Reprise)
By Tristram Lozaw
     The edge of nasty vengeance that pricks ÒYou Oughta Know,Ó Alanis MorissetteÕs ultimate ex-lover kiss-off, suggests she deserves a scholarship to the School of Fabulously Bitter Women. ÒEvery time I scratch my nails down someone elseÕs back I hope you can feel it,Ó she snarls, with a higher register that suggests an infinitely irked Kate Bush or Cranberry. A snapping, Manchesterish hip-hop grind also moves the psychedelic self-examination/empowerment of ÒAll I Really Want,Ó while ÒRight Through YouÓ takes a good, hard swipe at record company executives.
     On ÒPerfect,Ó good Catholic girl Morissette shows a softer side, allowing her fragile facade to crack with her voice. And she carries the vulnerable/strong dynamic nicely through the Òget out of my bedÓ frustrations of ÒWake Up.Ó But the rest of Jagged Little Pill is strewn with slower songs that need to be freed from their slightly buzzing, folkie-confessional arrangements.
     The Canadian-bred, former teen dance-popper says that it never took her and journeyman hard rocker Glen Ballard, who produced Jagged Little Pill, more than 45 minutes to write any of the songs. It shows. So before Morissette joins the likes of Marianne Faithfull and Sinead OÕConnor in the Bitter Belles alumni club, she must flesh out more of this cynical, alternative-stoked persona that she and Ballard have created. ***


LETTERS TO CLEO: Wholesale Meats And Fish (Giant)
By Richard Riegel
     Letters To Cleo vocalist/lyricist Kay Hanley definitely has a way with a metaphor, causing the listener to suspect her and her bandmates of being literate intellectuals--but then, who isnÕt, now that once-rebellious ÒalternativeÓ rock has become the status quo of pop music? The topic of almost all the songs on Wholesale Meats And Fish is interpersonal relationships, which suggests that much of the current bright-guitars alternapop of the Letters To Cleo style is really reinvented 1970s-rock, aesthetically cleansed of the country rock that made the XersÕ boomer parentsÕ singlesbar hell so slowly go by.
     Letters To Cleo would probably deny that such lofty generational manifestations reside in their happy music, as even if they are smart-drinking coffee barflies back home in Cambridge, Mass., theyÕve earned their trash-kultur irony badges by having their song/video ÒHere & NowÓ (from their debut disc, Aurora Gory Alice) featured in a certain camp primetime soaper. But for all that multimedia success, Letters To Cleo are no mere Melrose Placemats.
     They can rock out with the best bands among the institutional alternative party-downers, as the Michael Eisenstein/Greg McKenna guitar raveups on the new Wholesale Meats And Fish verify. This style is particularly evident on ÒDemon Rock,Ó which is just about as hooky & heavy as a set opener oughta be, but then ÒLittle RosaÓ would be up to that task too. ÒFast WayÓÕs got not just that raving-instruments roar, but also a nifty Kay Hanley metaphor in which she grouses to a guy who wants to take the fast way to (his) sexual satisfaction: ÒWhy you gotta sit in my easychair?Ó
     Why indeed? But then, all the songs on the new disc share this gently confrontational men-are-from-MarsBars tone. ÒAwakeÓ kicks the covers off a couple who canÕt seem to achieve a simultaneous level of consciousness--ÒYouÕre awake and IÕm asleep,Ó as they lie there in the talkshow of their bedroom. Churning guitars conquer all, even in these disparate relationships. And those bright alternapop guys and gal in Letters To Cleo have got Õem. ***


SON VOLT: Trace (Warner Bros.)
by Chris Morris
     Aspiring country-rockers, there is hope for you. Just follow this irresponsible suggestion: Go down to the package store and buy a big olÕ bottle of Kentucky bourbon, score a fistful of colorful pills, settle down on the couch, ingest everything youÕve got, and throw the eight-CD Hank Williams box set The CollectorÕs Edition into the multi-disc changer. 
     Chances are, when, or if, you wake up, you'll be able to write a song thatÕs better than anything on Son VoltÕs album Trace. Honest.
     This profoundly enervating disc is the debut offering from a mock-Õpone quartet fronted by singer-guitarist Jay Farrar. You may remember Farrar from Uncle Tupelo, a mopey St. Louis outfit that made one passable indie album and a couple of major-league snoozers. FarrarÕs partner in that group was Jeff Tweedy, whose new band Wilco comes out on top in the spinoff sweeps, since Tweedy has apparently heard more Rolling Stones albums than his ex-bandmate.
     Farrar, like many another well-meaning pud, lives Õneath the sway of country-rock martyr Gram Parsons. The difference twixt these two artistes: Parsons was a tortured soul who died young, whereas Farrar is torturing his young listeners to death. Senor VoltÕs sad-sack vocals and cliche-soaked lyrics are the instruments of pain here, and theyÕre as efficient as OlivierÕs dental gear in Marathon Man.
     You can guess whatÕs in store on Trace from virtually the first bars of the opening cut ÒWindfall,Ó a listeninÕ-to-that-friendly-country-station-while-we-mosey-on-down-that-endless-highway pancake thatÕs as mossy as they come. Rock tunes strictly from Plodsville, overwhelmingly ugly drumming (a seeming hallmark of co-producer Brian PaulsonÕs sound), and feeble fiddle, banjo, and steel licks poorly learnt from a narrow record collection do nothing to enhance Son Volt's palatability.  After I finished playing this record, my neighbors knocked on the front door, professing alarm at a loud sigh of relief audible in their den.
     As I audited this rickety excuse for entertainment, a number of records I wanted to be listening to collected next to the box: The Legendary Magic of Jule Brown, a really spooky number by a North Carolina farmer/self-taught musician; a compilation of Bakersfield honky-tonker Wynn StewartÕs Õ50s and Ô60s singles; Together Again, one of a half-dozen fine Buck Owens reissues on Sundazed; and Cosmic American Music, an English album of dubious legality featuring Gram Parsons screwing around at rehearsals.
     Buy any of these records. Please. And if you still have an abiding interest in Trace, check the Òused country-rockÓ section in, oh, a month. ItÕll be there. ***


JAZZMATAZZ VOLUME II HOSTED BY GURU: The New Reality (Chrysalis/EMI)
By Nathan Brackett
     As Guru's second Jazzmatazz album is trucked out of the CD duplicator plant, the bloom on the jazz and hip-hop movement has just about disappeared. The trendier clubhoppers have jumped onto the Jungle craze--consisting mostly of hip-hop and ragga beats accelerated to techno velocities--or are lounging to trip-hop, hip-hopÕs quirky cousin. ItÕs time for the truly talented acid jazzers and hip-bop fusioneers to show that they have some staying power. 
     Whether this second conglomeration of young hip-hop soulsters and their jazz and funk counterparts fits the bill is debatable. Jazzmatazz Vol. II, like Volume I, by and large looks better on paper than it sounds on disc. ItÕs twice as long as it should be--someone needs to start a ÒShorten Rap AlbumsÓ movement--and often veers way too close to the proverbial middle of the road to be considered ÒexperimentalÓ at all. 
     Guru once again shows himself to be an insightful, socially conscious rapper, but too often the musical collaborations donÕt gel this time around. ÒLiving in This WorldÓÕs potentially bracing message of responsibility in the face of hardship is diluted by bland R&B chanteuse Sweet Sable. On ÒLifesaver,Ó Guru slips into a messianic daydream over a plodding beat.
     There are bright spots: Chaka Kahn makes an electrifying appearance on ÒWatch What You Say,Ó Ini Kamoze is hypnotizing on ÒMedicine,Ó and Kenny Garrett supplies a couple of nice intertwining horn lines on ÒFor You.Ó But for most of its uneven 70+ minutes, Jazzmatazz comes perilously close to sinking under the weight of its own high concept. ***


BUJU BANTON: ÕTil Shiloh (Loose Cannon/Island)
By Rob OÕConnor
     According to ÒChampion,Ó one of ÕTil ShilohÕs highlights, Buju Banton has a Ò20ft. bedÓ in which he wishes to woo women. It might help Mr. BantonÕs cause if he cooed his pronouncements,  instead of yelling them in the tone of an angry traffic accident victim--women, IÕm told, prefer it that way. But then again, weÕre talking about a gentleman who entered the Reggae-dancehall arena with a song called ÒBoom Bye ByeÓ that suggested shooting homosexuals and understandably won him no friends in the queer nation.
     Nowadays, he sticks to safer topics: mostly his need for true love (ÒWanna Be LovedÓ) and that Jah-approved desire to get back to his African roots, where life was simple and unspoilt by Western CivilizationÕs callous, capitalistic appropriation of his people and culture. You wonÕt know heÕs singing about any of this, though, unless you keep your eyes peeled to the lyric sheet, which is generously supplied. This, of course,  means youÕre missing the point of the laidback-yet-electrified grooves, since this music has more to do with moving your ass than reorganizing your mind. But just like hardcore punk, as long as you know the true meaning behind all the indescipherable yelling, itÕs OK.
     ÕTil Shiloh will not be a ganja-smokerÕs idea of reggae--talk about harshing a mellow (cÕmon Buju, calm down). But for anyone who likes to annoy their neighbors and needs to justify it -- who could fault you for blasting music so intent on freeing the enslaved soul?--ÕTil Shiloh is the perfect P.C. guerilla tactic. Just donÕt let on you know it sounds like a bunch of screaming. ***


LEFTFIELD: Leftism (Columbia/Hard Hands)
By Dev Sherlock
     You may have already heard Leftfield without knowing it--they provided some of the pulsating score music in the movie Shallow Grave. Now, on the heels of considerable success in their native U.K. (where Leftism has been hyperbolically credited with redefining current dance music trends and been called Òtechno record of the yearÓ), this ambitious duo are looking to once again sneak up on us--this time with the help of John Lydon, who provides his familiar sneery vocal on LeftismÕs first single, ÒOpen Up.Ó Devious but not unwise, since this is one of the few so-called ÒtechnoÓ records that stands a chance of pricking up the ears of American radio listeners.
     What makes Leftism so much more listenable than most full-length dance-techno releases is its musical diversity. The disc opens with a building, trance-y dub (ÒRelease The PressureÓ) and closes with a soothing ambient chill-out (Ò21st Century PoemÓ). In between, the ride almost never gets boring. Atop a foundation of progressive house beats, Leftield creatively explore many of technoÕs current favorite frontiers--notably world music, dub, and ragga. ÒAfro-LeftÓ features berimbou (an instrument that sounds similar to the didgeridoo) and vocalist Djum DjumÕs African scat-speak, former Curve singer Toni Halliday is seamlessly mixed into ÒOriginal,Ó and ÒInspection (Check One)Ó features one of todayÕs brightest reggae talents, Danny Red. All in all, an impressive progress report on the genre and likely to become the yardstick by which other dance records will be measured for some time. ***


DÕANGELO: Brown Sugar (EMI)
By Amy Linden
     Dig, if you will. Why do the coolest young practitioners of Rhythm and Blues, Õ95 style, unleash a sound and mood that is so unabashedly Old School? What does it say about the state of soul when the new kids have gotta reach so damn far back to get their groove thang on? That query is for another article:  Me, IÕm here to give all praises due to one new kid who has strapped his groove thang on with serious style.
     DÕAngelo is earning his buzz the old-fashioned way:  with killer songs and a melted-butter delivery. The Richmond, Va. singer/instrumentalist may be best known for penning the emotional anthem ÒU Will KnowÓ off the JasonÕs Lyric soundtrack. But where ÒU Will KnowÓ soared and swelled, what DÕAngelo serves up on Brown Sugar simmers, way down on the DL.
     Brown Sugar is infused with a slinky, slightly stoned soulfulness that sounds best whispered or muttered ever so softly under cigarette-scented breath. With each sensual slur, DÕAngelo, who is all of 22, conjures up memories of Marvin, Sly, Eddie Kendricks, and every man who ever told ya something good. Of course, in keeping with current sociological/pharmacological trends, DÕAngeloÕs Top 10 single, and the title track, is a love song to smoking herb. AinÕt that just like a man to go and profess his undying devotion...to getting high. Built upon an undulating, jazzy Hammond B-3 riff and co-written by A Tribe Called QuestÕs Ali Shaheed Mohammed, ÒBrown SugarÓ works its way into that part of your subconscious reserved for cool beats and sexy shoutouts.
     Not since Sly Stone murmured his way through ThereÕs A Riot Going On has a male soul singer done so much with off-handed suggestion. Every breath he takes and every groove DÕAngelo makes reeks of a sloppy, casual romanticism that is light years away from the sex u up commands of the other fellows. DÕAngelo even covers the master, Smokey Robinson, with a slowed down take on ÒCruisinÕ.Ó Stripped of the strings and the pop-inflected hook, ÒCruisinÕÓ is all action and little talk. Smokey would be very pleased.
     It takes mad skills to represent both the past, present, and quite possibly the future of R&B. On Brown Sugar thatÕs just what DÕAngelo has gone and done. ***


MORRISSEY: Southpaw Grammar (Reprise)
By David Tseng
     It always seemed just a matter of time before Morrissey crossed over to mainstream popularity like so many other acts in his generation have done. But with his fifth studio album, Southpaw Grammar, itÕs finally becoming clear: the crossover is not going to happen. And in his own way, Morrissey finally seems comfortable with that. None of this albumÕs planned singles (ÒDagenham DaveÓ and ÒThe Boy RacerÓ) are particularly radio-friendly, and the opening track--over 11 minutes long--may immediately scare some people off.
     Though writing mostly in second or third person, Morrissey continues to sing from his own perspective, honestly and in simple terms. ÒReader Meet AuthorÓ draws from meeting thousands of his fans during several recent in-store appearances around the world; interaction between fan and artist, of course, is a key element in the Morrissey persona, and signifies how powerful a medium popular music can be. In ÒDo Your Best And Don't Worry,Ó Morrissey addresses the many letters he gets from fans, many writing about their own personal problems. He gently advises they look at the bigger picture: ÒCompare the best of their days with the worst of your days/You wonÕt win...Ó
     Rather than weakening near the end as did its predecessor Vauxhall And I, this album builds, climaxing with one of MorrisseyÕs most revealing songs, ÒSouthpaw.Ó Focusing on childhood memories, he sings, ÒAnd you ran back to ma/which set the pace for the rest of your days.Ó Ironically, as of this writing Morrissey is managerless--and for business-related matters, his various record companies have actually been going through his mother.
     Musically, Southpaw Grammar is notably unlike most of MorrisseyÕs past work--there are longer songs here, several ending in long instrumental passages. The guitars are harder and more upbeat. ItÕs obvious the singer has given increased freedom to his bandmember songwriting partners Alain Whyte and Boz Boorer. And having been recorded shortly after a tour, Southpaw Grammar borrows from another of Morrissey's essentials: the live performance. As the album ends after only eight tracks, IÕm left feeling as I do when one of his concerts ends...wanting more. But in a positive sense, of course. ***


LISA LOEB & NINE STORIES:  Tails(Geffen)
By Billy Altman
     IÕm listening to Lisa LoebÕs long-awaited debut album and IÕm thinking, ÒYou know, I got up this morning thinking, ÔTodayÕs the day IÕm going to listen to Lisa LoebÕs long-awaited debut album.ÕÓ And it made me feel a lot of things, knowing that this was what I was going to be doing for at least part of the day, or maybe most of the day, or (if I especially liked it) perhaps all of the day. Only now that IÕm actually listening to it, IÕm feeling like I think I might be getting upset, because itÕs taking a very long time to listen to it even though none of the songs are all that lengthy; they just feel long. And I think itÕs very likely that Lisa Loeb does not really realize just how long these songs take to listen to, or else maybe she wouldÕve added like, I donÕt know, maybe an electric guitar with a different tone setting every now and then, or maybe some kind of instrumental solo here or there--yÕknow, just for a change of pace. But different instrumental sounds and concepts like pace and rhythm and texture donÕt seem to be as important to Lisa Loeb as listening to her own voice singing her own words--and boy, are there are lot of them (words, that is), all about how Lisa Loeb feels at different moments, and most of those moments she seems to feel, well, I really canÕt say, because, on just about every song on her long-awaited debut album, Lisa LoebÕs very busy singing about how she feels about her feelings and what she thinks about what sheÕs thinking. And thatÕs making it very difficult for me because I am not inside her brain and therefore I donÕt have an inkling as to what feelings and thoughts she thinks sheÕs singing about. So nothing on this album is making any kind of impression on me, other than ÒStay (I Missed You),Ó the song from Reality Bites, which is about--well, yes, itÕs all about how Lisa Loeb feels about what sheÕs feeling, and what she thinks about what sheÕs thinking. But I didnÕt know thatÕs all she ever sings about. The only other song that IÕm getting anything from is ÒWaiting For Wednesday,Ó which, although it certainly is all about what Lisa Loeb feels about what sheÕs feeling--and here that means that her (excuse me, her narratorÕs) boyfriend might be breaking up with her and she doesnÕt want to have to think about the fact that he might be breaking up with her because she doesnÕt want to be in a relationship where sheÕs constantly worrying about whether her boyfriend might be thinking about breaking up with her, so itÕs okay if that is indeed whatÕs happening (got it?)--still, it reminds me of the BanglesÕ ÒManic Monday,Ó and maybe itÕll be a hit, too, but I wouldnÕt bet on it. ThatÕs because after hearing a whole album of songs like this, you realize that what makes a songwriter a songwriter is a matter of communication, not simply self-expression. And while Lisa Loeb is definitely expressing herself here, she isnÕt communicating--at least not with me. Then again, maybe she will communicate with you and youÕll like this album even though I donÕt. Which is okay by me. Really. Because how I feel about this album only matters to me, and unlike some people, I wouldnÕt think of thinking that thatÕs the most important thing in the world. ***


BEN FOLDS FIVE: Ben Folds Five (Passenger)
By Tom Lanham
     Remember when the piano used to be cool? And you don't even have to go back as far as Little Richard or Jerry Lee Lewis--just think mid-Õ70s, platform-stomping Elton John. Think ÒHonky CatÓ and ÒFuneral For A Friend/Love Lies Bleeding.Ó Nowadays, guitar is the instrument du jour, with keyboards quagmiring straight into geekdom. How odd it is then, for a tripped-out trio like Ben Folds Five to suddenly mince into the alternative scene--leader Ben Folds not only tinkles the ivories in goofy glissando style, but he absolutely delights in his own innate nerdiness, practically shouts it from the rafters.
     And for a while, the approach is curious, even interesting, as on the breezy ÒUncle WalterÓ (the tale of a nutcake relative no one wants to babysit) or the Leo Sayer-ish ÒUnderground,Ó in which Folds sneers from a 10-year high school reunion, ÒI was never cool in school...Hand me my nose ring/Show me the mosh pit.Ó Similarly, the downtrodden take on factory life in ÒJackson CanneryÓ--scrawled across a pounding piano arpeggio and a Crowded House-styled melody--is enjoyable for all its twisted contrasts. ÒPhilosophyÓ even strikes a faux Elton pose, circa Madman Across The Water.
     And FoldsÕs gaunt self-deprecation is also amusing; ÒI met this girl she looked like Axl Rose/Got drunk and took her home and we slept in our clothes,Ó he whines off-key on ÒJulianne,Ó and then proceeds to describe whatÕs probably his umpteenth failed relationship, while glass shatters in the background as percussion. In ÒAlice Childress,Ó with waves of Beach Boys harmonies cascading through, the poor schmuck considers inviting his friends back to his North Carolina digs but resignedly admits, ÒThey wouldn't dig this town.Ó And right about then, the jeez-but-IÕm-a-loser shtick wears dangerously thin. Folds has one of those voices that, when singing soft, sounds strangely emotive and intriguing--but when the music amps up, it starts cracking like a Victorian ceiling, often growing piercing to the point of annoyance. By the time he reaches the anti-jock putdown of ÒSports And WineÓ--which is, granted, a musically arresting tune with a whale of a roadhouse wallop--you find yourself sympathizing with the maligned jocks and longing to dunk this nudnickÕs head in the toilet just once for an emasculating swirlie. 
     Unfortunately, thatÕs often the case with geeks who finally get a taste of power. They spend far too much platform time trying to get even with all the hipsters who pantsed Õem in high school, not enough time on letting it go, moving forward. ThereÕs no doubt Ben Folds Five has latched onto a campy aesthetic here. Whether the combo can learn to laugh at itself, a la geek-success Weezer, remains to be seen. ***


TINDERSTICKS:  Tindersticks (This Way Up/London)
By Richard C. Walls
     With their second album, the British sextet Tindersticks consolidate their reputation as a band of striking originality. Though a casual listener might be tempted to relegate them to the sizable mope-rock wing of indie efforts, itÕs a misleading impression fed by their often airy light-touch arrangements and the sepulchral (but still warm) croon of lead singer Stuart Staples. In fact, once you get past their taste for swoony textures, theyÕre not even especially gloomy.
     For one thing the instrumentation is too playful: Guitar, strings, keyboard, and sundry percussion are used in continually ear-catching combinations, the band practically reinventing its sound on each song. Though generally serious, they also uninhibitedly embrace kitsch, using such dŽclassŽ devices as a large swooping string section (ÒA Night In,Ó ÒTraveling LightÓ--the latter, with guest Carla Torgerson, possibly an homage to some old Lee Hazelwood/Nancy Sinatra workout), ÒmusicalÓ saw (ÒVertrauen IIIÓ), and that perennial favorite, the lounge bossa beat (ÒTalk To MeÓ). Then thereÕs the lyrics, which are actually more cautious than dour--ÒSnowy In F# MinorÓ and ÒNo More AffairsÓ are tenuous love songs for smart people. Elsewhere the subject tends to be wounds that are saddening but not fatal.
     A typical Tindersticks song builds to a rather lively intensity before cooling off--another trait that separates them from the professionally atrophied. In any event, only an idea of the band can be gotten from sampling select cuts, the actual experience, an accumulation of atmosphere and sly attitude, takes a bit of time. Worth it, too, IÕd say. ***


G. LOVE AND SPECIAL SAUCE: Coast To Coast Motel (Okeh/Epic).
By Michael Lipton
     In the course of two records, this Philadelphia trio has matured as much as some bands do in an entire career. Following up a debut that played off trendy-but-shallow Òslacker-rapÓ (and racked up impressive sales), the group has taken a welcome detour. Heading south to New Orleans and enlisting veteran Memphis producer Jim Dickinson, it has, for the most part, dumped its annoying hip-hop shtick and come up with a record that combines the swampy spirit of Slim Harpo with the gritty white trash rock of bands like Southern Culture On The Skids. 
     On cuts like ÒSweet Sugar Mama,Ó the band tackles--and rises to--the difficult task of putting a fresh spin on a one-chord juke joint groove. Not only do the deceptively simple rhythm tracks laze along effortlessly, G. Love (aka Garrett Dutton III) has perfected a minimalist vocal style thatÕs both lyrical and extremely rhythmic. The tunes, compact gems mostly penned by Love, draw on a rich variety of influences; a borrowed Little Walter riff (ÒLeavinÕ The CityÓ), a bit of NRBQ (ÒEverybodyÓ) and even a murky vocal effect a la Can (ÒSometimeÓ). The New Orleans influence surfaces on the rolling second-line cadence of ÒNo Chains,Ó a reworking of Lee DorseyÕs ÒKiss And TellÓ and the loping ÒBye Bye Baby,Ó with the Sauce joined by the steaming Rebirth Brass Band. ÒCominÕ Home,Ó a solo cut with Love accompanying himself on guitar and harp, closes the disc with an itinerant talking blues that sounds like Garland Jeffreys singing a Ramblin' Jack Elliot tune. If Generation Xers have come down with an authentic case of the blues, this is it. ***


STEVE WILLIAMSON: Journey To Truth (Verve/Forecast) 
By Josef Woodard
     Saxist Steve Williamson's Journey To Truth is a bold concept album thang that takes place at the stylistic intersection where hip-hop, post-Coltrane saxophonics, and the sophistofunky strategies of the M-BASE scene meet. It could have been a traffic jam of contrary ideas--the risk run by other jazz-hop experiments. Instead, the cross-currents feed each other, and Williamson has concocted an inspiring vehicle, a nod towards the advancement of creative jazz.
     For one thing, this journey is grounded in the primordial thrill of live playing, with electronics and samples kept to a minimal, coloristic role. The music takes some essential cues from the rhythmically knotty funk pulses of M-BASE, the energy source spilling out of Brooklyn in the late Õ80s. The British-born WilliamsonÕs own brainy/brawny sax work often echoes that of the M-BASE founders, Greg Osby and Steve Coleman. 
     Part of WilliamsonÕs conceptual design is to make the album a divided house, split into the sections ÒThe Journey,Ó ÒThe Pffat Factor,Ó and ÒThat Fuss.Ó On ÒPffat Time,Ó he traces the outline of a rap with a scampering tenor sax melody. The album features sultry and celestial vocal tunes featuring Jhelisa Anderson, as on the memorable ÒCelestial Blues,Ó with its Marvin Gaye-ish air. The tune also features Jason Rebello laying out the warm tones of the Fender Rhodes, an instrument rescued from oblivion, and not a moment too soon. ÒBlakk PlanetÓ and ÒEvol LoverÓ are tougher, more machinery-driven grooves, with Noel McKoyÕs limber vocal lines engaging in soulful dialogue with Williamson's more Òout,Ó tonally skewed riffs. 
     Despite the R&B and hip hop elements in the mix, Journey To Truth isnÕt about compromise or dilution of the jazz foundation for marketingÕs sake. The music keeps you dancing in your head and your bones. ***


RON HOLLOWAY: StruttinÕ (Milestone)
By Chris Rubin
     Cited by Sonny Rollins as one of the keepers of his legacy, and a member of Dizzy Gillespie's final quintet, Ron Holloway carries a heavy burden. The tenor man is a versatile player who moves easily between jazz, rhythm & blues and even funk; on this, his second Milestone release as a leader, he pursues all those styles. Holloway can certainly assemble a fine band--he actually puts together two different groups here, supporting himself with a rhythm section of pianist Kenny Barron, bassist David Williams and drummer Victor Lewis on about half the tracks, and working with guitarist John Scofield, organist Dr. Lonnie Smith and drummer Steve Berrios on others. 
     Holloway is at his most lyrical on ÒWhere Are You?,Ó a spare, intimate conversation with Barron. The Gene Ammons classic ÒJungle StrutÓ gets into a funky urban groove, with Smith and Scofield overshadowing the leader. The GershwinsÕ ÒHow Long Has This Been Going On?,Ó featuring pianist Larry Willis,  brings out HollowayÕs mellow side with a hint of melancholy. And Holloway cuts loose, spurred by trumpeter Mac Gollehon, on Max RoachÕs ÒDr. Free Zee/Mr. X.Ó The Indian-accented ÒCobra,Ó dedicated to Miles Davis, is the diskÕs most interesting track, with Holloway blowing all-out on both tenor and baritone. He mixes it up in a joyous cacophony reminiscent of the late masterÕs, complete with sitar, tabla and electric guitar. ItÕs this kind of loose, unselfconscious playing that would have pushed many of the other tracks from pleasant to compelling. ***


URGE OVERKILL: Exit The Dragon (Geffen)
By Chuck Crisafulli
     Throughout their excitable career, the wily fellows of Urge have consistently delivered some primo sounds as theyÕve followed their decidedly unique rock ÕnÕ roll path. When Chicago rock was at its mid-Õ80s ugliest, Urge was in tuxedo jackets, and later, when everyone in the indie world was swearing by Kiss and Sabbath, Urge respectfully touched the hem of Neil Diamond's sparkling coat. 1993 might have been the year for some to Ôgo grunge,Õ but instead Urge put out a Geffen debut, Saturation, that pumped large fun back into arena-sized guitar rock.
     On their Geffen follow-up, Exit The Dragon, the band calmly and coolly offers a fresh chapter of the Urge saga. For a band thatÕs sometimes been accused of clownishness, UO has put together one of the smartest, craftiest, and, hell yes, most mature records to hit rock bins in a long time.
     The fuzzy rush of Saturation is gone, and in the cold, clean light of Exit, Urge offers some heady reflection, with bassist/vocalist King Roeser and guitarist/vocalist Nash Kato both in admirably fine form. ÒJaywalkinÕÓ creeps and snarls over the evils of this world, ÒTake MeÓ squeezes new sparks from relationship dysfunction, and ÒThe BreakÓ pleads exhaustion in fine Sticky Fingers fashion. Hard to believe a rocker-on-the-road tune could sound fresh and deep, but drummer Blackie O pulls it off in his contribution, ÒThe Mistake.Ó 
     Exit The Dragon is a sad and wised-up record, full of bittersweet tunes, stunningly rendered. Urge seems caught up in moody moments and bemused melancholy, but that doesnÕt stop them from rocking like hell. The dragon may be gone, but the album he left behind is a whomper.***


GARBAGE:  Garbage (Almo Sounds)
By Ken Micallef
     Like a half-time band at the Spanish Inquisition, Garbage are the perfect accompaniment if youÕre in the mood for something a bit kinky, obsessive, and self-destructive, all in the safety of a slickly-produced pop confectionerÕs treat.
     Their brilliant single ÒVowÓ is prime Garbage. Opening with a tremendous, stereo-strobe guitar figure, singer Shirley Manson eerily whispers ÒI canÕt use what I canÕt abuse,Ó leading to morose denunciations: ÒIÕve come to cut you up/...knock you down/...tear your little world apart.Ó In an outstanding case of musical grave robbing, the songÕs bridge steals, note for note, The BeatlesÕ ÒNo Reply,Ó which strangely adds to ÒVowÓÕs power and memorability.
     With heavyweight producer Butch Vig (L7, Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins) on looped drums, Garbage carve out a sound as influenced by the Pumpkins as by Kraftwerk and the Cure. Coating their dark songs is a glossy sheen of squirming noise and distorted guitars. The production is so seamless, itÕs difficult to tell where a swooshing spaceship noise begins and a lush Mellotron waterfall ends. Within this buzzing cocoon, the songs range from Euro-styled pop (ÒMy LoverÕs BoxÓ) to techno-grunge (ÒHeaven Is WideÓ) to Lou Reedish cosmopolitan (ÒQueerÓ). Manson, formerly of Silverfish, views the world from a spooky perch, her vision leading Garbage through suspicious sexual encounters and unspoken pleas for therapy. Her vocals are billowing and evocative on the sculpted nocturnal tracks (ÒMilk,Ó ÒStroke Of LuckÓ), but attempts at social commentary (ÒSupervixen,Ó ÒStupid GirlÓ) sound insincere, like yet another ÒalternativeÓ movie soundtrack.
     In a debut album full of hit singles, Garbage offer depression as cosmetic, obsession as hobby, isolation as candy bar rush, so enter without risk. ThereÕs no danger here, just an extremely well-crafted pop product. ***


LUNA: Penthouse (Elektra)
By Bill Holdship
     Despite its clever title, LunaÕs third Elektra release isnÕt a tribute to skin magazine publishing mogul Bob Guccione, Sr.--although it could be called a tribute to the legacy of the Velvet Underground. And even though the New York-based band has complained about the comparison in several feature stories (while acknowledging pride in having Velvets member Sterling Morrison as a guest guitarist on its sophomore LP--not to mention opening for Lou Reed and crew during the Velvets 1993 reunion trek of Europe), thatÕs meant as the highest compliment.
     Sure, most of us rock-critic types are sick of hearing ÒVelvet Underground-influencedÓ in relationship to modern bands; since the Cowboy JunkiesÕ monotonous debut LP a few years back, the classification now means virtually nothing. But Luna actually does the influence proud, presenting an eclectic blend of styles while creating glorious, intoxicating melodies from the simplest of chord structures. In fact, Luna might be considered a ÒV.U.-influencedÓ supergroup of sorts, since its members come from three other bands that actually used the inspiration quite well--Galaxie 500, the Chills, and New JerseyÕs terrific Feelies.
     And guitarist/singer/Harvard grad Dean Wareham actually gives Uncle Lou a run for his money in both the axe and lyric department. This is a guitar rock album--and I donÕt mean the Ò1-2-3-4!Ó Ramones rip-offs that weÕre all sick of at this point. ÒChinatown,Ó the kickoff track here, begins with a haunting Duane Eddy riff before descending into melodic distortion reminiscent of the VelvetsÕ classic third LP. ÒDouble FeatureÓ could be a Joy Division outtake. And the brilliant lyrics just jump out at you all over the place: ÒYouÕre out all night, chasing girlies/Late to work and you go home earliesÓ (J. Richman, phone home!); ÒYou were stuck in a dream/And you wanted to scream/But itÕs nothing at all.Ó
     The last rhyme is totally appropriate, as Luna takes you to a place thatÕs dream-like, albeit both haunting and beautiful. Truly psychedelic. When it comes to Velvet-type bands, this oneÕs a gem. Can hardly wait for their next LP, Hustler! ***


SMOKING POPES:  Born To Quit (Capitol)
By J. Kordosh
     Remember when Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols sang ÒMy Way?Ó It was an aural experience horrifying beyond belief, I think youÕll agree. In a way, that songÕs almost the concept behind Smoking Popes, but the Popes are infinitely better, funnier, and--unlike the Pistols--fully capable of singing traditional romantic lyrics in a punkish milieu. ItÕs Las Vegas in a garage. Musical cognitive dissonance.
     Born To Quit is either the best or second-best record IÕve heard this year. The Popes--three average-lookinÕ Joes from the Chicago area who are brothers, plus an average-lookinÕ Mike whoÕs a drummer--are really onto something here. Every single song is a love song. Back-up vocals are well-nigh nonexistent. Josh Caterer, their singer, essentially croons (no kidding) while the Popes play their thunderous grunge. Yet visions of the Smiths, Kinks, and Paul McCartney himself(!) swirled about me on the first listen.
     Check out ÒNeed You Around,Ó a monster of tempo & rhythm if there ever was one: When Caterer sings ÒÔCause IÕm lost and I need to be found,Ó itÕs so heartfelt that IÕm inclined to believe him. Or ÒMrs. Me And You,Ó a relatively more lilting tune that puts Caterer in what seems to be his usual romantic underdog role. Or ÒGotta Know Right Now,Ó which may be the best song Ray Davies never sang...but one he mightÕve if the Kinks really were the metal band some believe.
     I love every song on this record, and, in fact, everything about this record...quite a rarity in my world, believe me. They may be AS GOOD AS GREEN DAY THEMSELVES! Help!
     Oh, what the hell, just buy it, OK? ***


EMMET SWIMMING: Wake (Epic)
By Sandy Masuo
     Emmet Till was a young black boy living in a small town in Mississippi in the Õ50s. One day he whistled at a white woman--a transgression that cost him his life. He was shot and thrown in a nearby river. ItÕs a story thatÕs saturated with symbolism and metaphors, none of which were lost on this Fairfax, Va.-based band. With their moniker, theyÕve resurrected him; with the title of their debut album theyÕve paid him his final respects, and their music brings to life all the imagery that his brief biography evokes.
     Song titles alone offer a synopsis of sorts, but thereÕs much more going on than words alone. The music flows over all kinds of terrain. ÒJump In the WaterÓ is the placid, gleaming Blue Nile pouring over a chunky Pixies-esque ground. ÒBroken OarÓ has a pre-Fly U2 feel with glistening guitarwork trickling over the spare rhythms. ÒExpect MeÓ has the quavery urgency of Counting Crows without the Van Morrison conceit. The exceedingly Smiths-like ÒWhen Morning ComesÓ soars, while ÒYouÕre So PrettyÓ is a spry and quietly morose meditation on unrequited love. Todd Watt is a vocal chameleon and itÕs fascinating to listen to him shift from straightforward singing to passages of hyper-stylization. Over the course of these 13 tracks he evokes a bevy of vocalists: Eddie Vedder, Ian Curtis, Michael Stipe, Ian McCulloch, Morrissey, Nick Cave--even Elvis.
     The rich combination of imagery and sonic textures is powerful, and about half the time ES pull it all into solid song form, but they also allow the tunes to meander along on currents of sound and melody--which seems a fitting place for EmmetÕs ghost to rest. ***