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UNKNOWN TREASURES
The Legacy Of Joy Division
By Chris Morris
     "Someday we will die in your dreams," Ian Curtis wrote in 1980, in
the song "In A Lonely Place," 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 Division's music--the band's posthumous
album Closer plays like an extended suicide note--the group's stately,
glacial sound has retained an authoritative power that ultimately
transcends the singer's grim end.
     Touching From A Distance, a memoir by Curtis's widow Deborah
published in England this year by Faber and Faber, suggests that the
musician's 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
Curtis's brief life also animated the moving and uniquely compelling
music of Joy Division.
     The quartet was a product of the late-'70s 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 Bowie's album Low, whose chilly ambience
would have a pronounced influence on the group's 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 Hook's
cavernous, prominent bass, Bernard Sumner's washes of guitar and
keyboards, and Stephen Morris's martial, lock-step drumming. Over this
doomy, disquieting foundation rose Curtis's 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 Curtis's 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  "Love Will Tear Us
Apart," which, in light of Deborah Curtis's book, must be viewed as Ian
Curtis's tortured viewpoint on his troubled marriage, and Closer, which
survives as one of rock 'n' roll's most extreme statements of absolute
despair.
     Although Factory Records, the Manchester label that released all of
Joy Division's 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
band's 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 Division's albums. The important
singles--"Love Will Tear Us Apart" (heard in both its original form and
in a jangling alternate mix by Don Gehman), "Transmission," and the
funereal "Atmosphere"--are all here, as are such essential entries in
the canon as "She's Lost Control," "Isolation," "Heart and Soul," and
"Dead Souls."  Neophyte listeners seeking a primer will get a corrosive
entree here.
     Joy Division's somber music endured through the '80s, and inspired
some unlikely cover versions--remember Grace Jones's nutty "She's Lost
Control," or Paul Young's candy-coated "Love Will Tear Us Apart"? 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 band's 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 Pumpkins' Billy
Corgan, who appears under the guise of Starchildren; former Opal and
Dream Syndicate member Kendra Smith; and the Red Hot Chili Peppers' 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-Miranda's
entirely too chirpy version of "Love Will Tear Us Apart," most hands
turn in stirring readings of the Joy Division legacy.
     "Don't walk away in silence," Ian Curtis cautioned on "Atmosphere."
He failed to heed his own advice, but Joy Division's music continues to
ring a chord with contemporary listeners, a decade-and-a-half after
Curtis's 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. She's 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 "At A Later Date" 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 "Digital" and "Glass."

UNKNOWN PLEASURES (Factory UK, 1979); (Factory US, 1980); Qwest/Warner
Bros., 1989)
Joy Division's 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
"Autosuggestion" and "From Safety To Where."

SORDIDE SENTIMENTALE (Sordide Sentimentalem, 1980)
This limited edition French release included the Joy Division tracks
"Atmosphere" and "Dead Souls."

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 "As You Said."

SHE'S LOST CONTROL/ATMOSPHERE (Factory US, 1980)
12-inch single.

ATMOSPHERE/SHE'S 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 Curtis's 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 Division's
career output.

HERE ARE THE YOUNG MEN (Factory, 1982)
A longform video featuring the tracks "Love Will Tear Us Apart,"
"Transmission," and "She's Lost Control," 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 Division's "She's Lost Control."



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 Division's "Transmission" and New
Order's version of "Ceremony."

LIFE'S A BEACH (Factory UK)
Contains tracks by New Order.

THE BEAT GROUPS (Factory UK)
Joy Division's "Wilderness" is featured here.

SELLING OUT (Factory UK)
This title features Joy Division's "Atmosphere," 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, "She's Lost Control"
Girls Against Boys is a N.Y.-based quartet that records for Touch And Go
Records.

2. Honeymoon Stitch, "Day Of The Lords"
Honeymoon Stitch features Dave Navarro and Chad Smith of the  Red Hot
Chili Peppers.

3. Moby, "New Dawn Fades"
The visionary music of Moby blends electronic, trance, hip-hop, and pop
elements.

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

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

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

7. Stanton-Miranda, "Love Will Tear Us Apart"
Stanton-Miranda actually has recorded for Joy Division's original U.K.-
based label Factory.

8. Starchildren, "Isolation"
Smashing Pumpkins' Billy Corgan doubles as a member of this alternative
outfit.

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

10. Versus, "Twenty-four Hours"
This New-York based group records for the indie label Teen Beat.

11. Desert Storm, "Warsaw"
Dan Koretzky, head of Chicago's Drag City record label, fronts this
band, which records for Sea Note.

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

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

14. Tortoise, "As You Said"
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 Dawn's latest excursions in the
often convoluted world of sample clearance. Capping off the group's new
album Jesus Wept is a cool little montage of covers: Prince's "1999,"
Talking Heads' "Once In A Lifetime," and the late Harry Nilsson's
"Coconut." OK. Now, since these are cover songs, no lawyers can barge in
and demand payment, and the label doesn't have to wait for sample
clearance. But buried underneath these cover versions are myriad samples
of other people's music, and those other people's lawyers tried to
collect some cold cash for their clients.
     Problem, Be?
     "I said, `fine, but I don't own the publishing on "Once In A
Lifetime" or "Coconut,"'" smiles his Princely self coyly. So? "So?" Be
shrugs. It's 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 (he's married with a baby and is at ease with the press and
himself), but he's 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 can't 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 "maybe, maybe not," 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 we're at it, the hell with radio
programmers and those folks at video. PM Dawn are perhaps America's
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. "You know what scares me?" asks Prince Be. "I think that there's
gonna be another form of music that I ain't gonna be able to understand.
You know what I mean?"
     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. "We pretty much indulge, a lot, in
technology," Be says. Ask Be if he finds technology dehumanizing and he
laughs. "Now that doesn't say a lot about human beings, does it? Humans
don't wanna be humans anymore...Actually, who's to say?" he pauses.
"Yeah. You know technology does the work that people don't wanna do. Or
maybe do wanna do. Who's to say?"
     Be smiles his soft half-smile. "Technology," he declares, "is gonna
be the monster that eats itself."  A monster maybe, or maybe not. But a
monster that PM Dawn needs. "There definitely was a technical aspect to
recording Jesus Wept," offers the normally low-key Jarret. "To break it
down, we pretty much used all the advanced technology that there is."
     There are live instruments on the CD, although I failed the "is it
live or Memorex?" quiz as to the (non-live) drums on the gorgeous
"Apathy...Superstar." 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: "To get that pretty much analog sound we had to do a lot of
shit!" 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 "are
they rap or not" question seems silly. "This album pretty much answers a
lot of questions for everybody.  To me, it was nothing but pure, sheer
emotions, you know what I mean?" Be asks.
     Yeah, well I do, but PM Dawn's beef with the rap community is the
stuff of legend. Although Be realizes he's never gonna be seated next to
anyone named Ice at a party, he's still a hip-hop disciple. And he's
made peace with his arch nemesis, KRS-1. The two titans ran into each
other in NYC. "I said `hi,' he said `hi.'  I said `I like your shit.'
He said `Well, I like yours, too.'  That was it."
     Although Jesus Wept is devoid of the harder beats that colored PM
Dawn's 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 rap's sonic sphere. "When we came out, we were very close to
traditional hip-hop. What we were saying was, we wanted to be artists.
We didn't want hip-hop to be just hip-hop. We didn't want R&B to be just
R&B.  We didn't 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."
     Be stops for a second. "I'm a sampling artist," he continues. "And
the reason why we sampled a lot of those songs is because that's what we
wanted to promote."
     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 "gospel album." OOOOhhh boy. Has somebody
told Sandi Patti? "Anything spiritual, true, and honest is Gospel and
that's what Gospel music is..." Be taps the top of his soda can. He is
thinking, sorting, shuffling, running all the possibilities. "I though
it was something that was very spiritual, yet introspective, yet the
connection to us all. This," Be spreads his hands in an embracing
circle, "is what I'm trying to figure out. I'm just so curious, I'm so
astounded by something as divine to me as spirituality."


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 WHO'VE 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 Jam's sound (in particular Eddie Vedder's anguished
vocals) and Nirvana's look (Courtney Love even thinks Johns looks like a
young Kurt Cobain). It would be nice to say that such comparisons aren't
valid, but there's no way around them. In the chorus of the modern rock
hit "Tomorrow," John sounds incredibly Vedder-like, while "Israel's Son"
plods along with a rhythmic thud, before erupting into a frenzy, a la
Ten-era Pearl Jam. Silverchair, however, hasn't limited its inspirations
to Pearl Jam. The haunting "Suicidal Dream" sounds similar to "Fell On
Black Days," 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 Bush's Sixteen Stone or
the Stone Temple Pilots' Core. And given their age, you really can't
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. John's vocals are strong and
expressive beyond his years, and the trio's instrumental chops show
these aren't just a bunch of kids banging around a garage. It's also
encouraging that Johns has claimed in recent interviews that he no
longer likes Pearl Jam.
     Here's 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 "You Oughta Know," Alanis
Morissette's ultimate ex-lover kiss-off, suggests she deserves a
scholarship to the School of Fabulously Bitter Women. "Every time I
scratch my nails down someone else's back I hope you can feel it," 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 "All I Really Want,"
while "Right Through You" takes a good, hard swipe at record company
executives.
     On "Perfect," 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 "get out of my bed"
frustrations of "Wake Up." 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
O'Connor 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 isn't, now that once-
rebellious "alternative" 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 Xers' boomer parents' 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., they've earned
their trash-kultur irony badges by having their song/video "Here & Now"
(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 "Demon Rock," which is just about as hooky &
heavy as a set opener oughta be, but then "Little Rosa" would be up to
that task too. "Fast Way"'s 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: "Why you gotta
sit in my easychair?"
     Why indeed? But then, all the songs on the new disc share this
gently confrontational men-are-from-MarsBars tone. "Awake" kicks the
covers off a couple who can't seem to achieve a simultaneous level of
consciousness--"You're awake and I'm asleep," 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 'em. ***


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 ol'
bottle of Kentucky bourbon, score a fistful of colorful pills, settle
down on the couch, ingest everything you've got, and throw the eight-CD
Hank Williams box set The Collector's Edition into the multi-disc
changer.
     Chances are, when, or if, you wake up, you'll be able to write a
song that's better than anything on Son Volt's album Trace. Honest.
     This profoundly enervating disc is the debut offering from a mock-
'pone 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. Farrar's
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 'neath 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 Volt's sad-sack vocals and
cliche-soaked lyrics are the instruments of pain here, and they're as
efficient as Olivier's dental gear in Marathon Man.
     You can guess what's in store on Trace from virtually the first
bars of the opening cut "Windfall," a listenin'-to-that-friendly-
country-station-while-we-mosey-on-down-that-endless-highway pancake
that's as mossy as they come. Rock tunes strictly from Plodsville,
overwhelmingly ugly drumming (a seeming hallmark of co-producer Brian
Paulson's 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 Stewart's '50s and `60s 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 "used country-rock" section in, oh, a
month. It'll 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-hop's quirky cousin.
It's 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. It's twice as long as it should be--someone needs to
start a "Shorten Rap Albums" movement--and often veers way too close to
the proverbial middle of the road to be considered "experimental" at
all.
     Guru once again shows himself to be an insightful, socially
conscious rapper, but too often the musical collaborations don't gel
this time around. "Living in This World"'s potentially bracing message
of responsibility in the face of hardship is diluted by bland R&B
chanteuse Sweet Sable. On "Lifesaver," Guru slips into a messianic
daydream over a plodding beat.
     There are bright spots: Chaka Kahn makes an electrifying appearance
on "Watch What You Say," Ini Kamoze is hypnotizing on "Medicine," and
Kenny Garrett supplies a couple of nice intertwining horn lines on "For
You." But for most of its uneven 70+ minutes, Jazzmatazz comes
perilously close to sinking under the weight of its own high concept.
***


BUJU BANTON: 'Til Shiloh (Loose Cannon/Island)
By Rob O'Connor
     According to "Champion," one of 'Til Shiloh's highlights, Buju
Banton has a "20ft. bed" in which he wishes to woo women. It might help
Mr. Banton's cause if he cooed his pronouncements,  instead of yelling
them in the tone of an angry traffic accident victim--women, I'm told,
prefer it that way. But then again, we're talking about a gentleman who
entered the Reggae-dancehall arena with a song called "Boom Bye Bye"
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
("Wanna Be Loved") and that Jah-approved desire to get back to his
African roots, where life was simple and unspoilt by Western
Civilization's callous, capitalistic appropriation of his people and
culture. You won't know he's singing about any of this, though, unless
you keep your eyes peeled to the lyric sheet, which is generously
supplied. This, of course,  means you're 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, it's OK.
     'Til Shiloh will not be a ganja-smoker's idea of reggae--talk about
harshing a mellow (c'mon 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?--'Til Shiloh is
the perfect P.C. guerilla tactic. Just don't 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 "techno record of the year"), 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
Leftism's first single, "Open Up." Devious but not unwise, since this is
one of the few so-called "techno" 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 ("Release The Pressure") and closes with a
soothing ambient chill-out ("21st Century Poem"). In between, the ride
almost never gets boring. Atop a foundation of progressive house beats,
Leftield creatively explore many of techno's current favorite frontiers-
-notably world music, dub, and ragga. "Afro-Left" features berimbou (an
instrument that sounds similar to the didgeridoo) and vocalist Djum
Djum's African scat-speak, former Curve singer Toni Halliday is
seamlessly mixed into "Original," and "Inspection (Check One)" features
one of today's 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.
***


D'ANGELO: Brown Sugar (EMI)
By Amy Linden
     Dig, if you will. Why do the coolest young practitioners of Rhythm
and Blues, '95 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, I'm here to give all praises due to
one new kid who has strapped his groove thang on with serious style.
     D'Angelo 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 "U Will Know" off the Jason's Lyric soundtrack. But where "U Will
Know" soared and swelled, what D'Angelo 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, D'Angelo, 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, D'Angelo's Top 10 single, and the
title track, is a love song to smoking herb. Ain't 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
Quest's Ali Shaheed Mohammed, "Brown Sugar" works its way into that part
of your subconscious reserved for cool beats and sexy shoutouts.
     Not since Sly Stone murmured his way through There's A Riot Going
On has a male soul singer done so much with off-handed suggestion. Every
breath he takes and every groove D'Angelo makes reeks of a sloppy,
casual romanticism that is light years away from the sex u up commands
of the other fellows. D'Angelo even covers the master, Smokey Robinson,
with a slowed down take on "Cruisin'." Stripped of the strings and the
pop-inflected hook, "Cruisin'" 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 that's just what D'Angelo 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, it's
finally becoming clear: the crossover is not going to happen. And in his
own way, Morrissey finally seems comfortable with that. None of this
album's planned singles ("Dagenham Dave" and "The Boy Racer") 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. "Reader Meet Author" 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
"Do Your Best And Don't Worry," 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: "Compare the best of
their days with the worst of your days/You won't win..."
     Rather than weakening near the end as did its predecessor Vauxhall
And I, this album builds, climaxing with one of Morrissey's most
revealing songs, "Southpaw." Focusing on childhood memories, he sings,
"And you ran back to ma/which set the pace for the rest of your days."
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 Morrissey's
past work--there are longer songs here, several ending in long
instrumental passages. The guitars are harder and more upbeat. It's
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, I'm 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
     I'm listening to Lisa Loeb's long-awaited debut album and I'm
thinking, "You know, I got up this morning thinking, `Today's the day
I'm going to listen to Lisa Loeb's long-awaited debut album.'" 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 I'm
actually listening to it, I'm feeling like I think I might be getting
upset, because it's 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
it's very likely that Lisa Loeb does not really realize just how long
these songs take to listen to, or else maybe she would've added like, I
don't know, maybe an electric guitar with a different tone setting every
now and then, or maybe some kind of instrumental solo here or there--
y'know, just for a change of pace. But different instrumental sounds and
concepts like pace and rhythm and texture don't 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 can't say, because, on just about every song on her long-
awaited debut album, Lisa Loeb's very busy singing about how she feels
about her feelings and what she thinks about what she's thinking. And
that's making it very difficult for me because I am not inside her brain
and therefore I don't have an inkling as to what feelings and thoughts
she thinks she's singing about. So nothing on this album is making any
kind of impression on me, other than "Stay (I Missed You)," the song
from Reality Bites, which is about--well, yes, it's all about how Lisa
Loeb feels about what she's feeling, and what she thinks about what
she's thinking. But I didn't know that's all she ever sings about. The
only other song that I'm getting anything from is "Waiting For
Wednesday," which, although it certainly is all about what Lisa Loeb
feels about what she's feeling--and here that means that her (excuse me,
her narrator's) boyfriend might be breaking up with her and she doesn't
want to have to think about the fact that he might be breaking up with
her because she doesn't want to be in a relationship where she's
constantly worrying about whether her boyfriend might be thinking about
breaking up with her, so it's okay if that is indeed what's happening
(got it?)--still, it reminds me of the Bangles' "Manic Monday," and
maybe it'll be a hit, too, but I wouldn't bet on it. That's 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 isn't communicating--at least not with me. Then again, maybe
she will communicate with you and you'll like this album even though I
don't. Which is okay by me. Really. Because how I feel about this album
only matters to me, and unlike some people, I wouldn't think of thinking
that that's 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-
'70s, platform-stomping Elton John. Think "Honky Cat" and "Funeral For A
Friend/Love Lies Bleeding." 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 "Uncle Walter" (the tale of a nutcake relative no one wants
to babysit) or the Leo Sayer-ish "Underground," in which Folds sneers
from a 10-year high school reunion, "I was never cool in school...Hand
me my nose ring/Show me the mosh pit." Similarly, the downtrodden take
on factory life in "Jackson Cannery"--scrawled across a pounding piano
arpeggio and a Crowded House-styled melody--is enjoyable for all its
twisted contrasts. "Philosophy" even strikes a faux Elton pose, circa
Madman Across The Water.
     And Folds's gaunt self-deprecation is also amusing; "I met this
girl she looked like Axl Rose/Got drunk and took her home and we slept
in our clothes," he whines off-key on "Julianne," and then proceeds to
describe what's probably his umpteenth failed relationship, while glass
shatters in the background as percussion. In "Alice Childress," with
waves of Beach Boys harmonies cascading through, the poor schmuck
considers inviting his friends back to his North Carolina digs but
resignedly admits, "They wouldn't dig this town." And right about then,
the jeez-but-I'm-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 "Sports And Wine"--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 nudnick's head in the toilet just once for an
emasculating swirlie.
     Unfortunately, that's 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 'em in high school, not enough time on
letting it go, moving forward. There's 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, it's 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, they're 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 déclassé devices as a large swooping string section ("A Night In,"
"Traveling Light"--the latter, with guest Carla Torgerson, possibly an
homage to some old Lee Hazelwood/Nancy Sinatra workout), "musical" saw
("Vertrauen III"), and that perennial favorite, the lounge bossa beat
("Talk To Me"). Then there's the lyrics, which are actually more
cautious than dour--"Snowy In F# Minor" and "No More Affairs" 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, I'd
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 "slacker-rap" (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 "Sweet Sugar Mama," 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 that's 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 ("Leavin' The City"), a bit of
NRBQ ("Everybody") and even a murky vocal effect a la Can ("Sometime").
The New Orleans influence surfaces on the rolling second-line cadence of
"No Chains," a reworking of Lee Dorsey's "Kiss And Tell" and the loping
"Bye Bye Baby," with the Sauce joined by the steaming Rebirth Brass
Band. "Comin' Home," 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 '80s. The British-born Williamson's own brainy/brawny sax work
often echoes that of the M-BASE founders, Greg Osby and Steve Coleman.
     Part of Williamson's conceptual design is to make the album a
divided house, split into the sections "The Journey," "The Pffat
Factor," and "That Fuss." On "Pffat Time," 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
"Celestial Blues," 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. "Blakk
Planet" and "Evol Lover" are tougher, more machinery-driven grooves,
with Noel McKoy's limber vocal lines engaging in soulful dialogue with
Williamson's more "out," tonally skewed riffs.
     Despite the R&B and hip hop elements in the mix, Journey To Truth
isn't about compromise or dilution of the jazz foundation for
marketing's sake. The music keeps you dancing in your head and your
bones. ***


RON HOLLOWAY: Struttin' (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 "Where Are You?," a spare,
intimate conversation with Barron. The Gene Ammons classic "Jungle
Strut" gets into a funky urban groove, with Smith and Scofield
overshadowing the leader. The Gershwins' "How Long Has This Been Going
On?," featuring pianist Larry Willis,  brings out Holloway's mellow side
with a hint of melancholy. And Holloway cuts loose, spurred by trumpeter
Mac Gollehon, on Max Roach's "Dr. Free Zee/Mr. X." The Indian-accented
"Cobra," dedicated to Miles Davis, is the disk's 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 master's, complete with
sitar, tabla and electric guitar. It's 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 they've followed their
decidedly unique rock 'n' roll path. When Chicago rock was at its mid-
'80s 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 `go grunge,' 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 that's
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.
"Jaywalkin'" creeps and snarls over the evils of this world, "Take Me"
squeezes new sparks from relationship dysfunction, and "The Break"
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, "The Mistake."
     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 doesn't 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 you're in the mood for something a bit kinky,
obsessive, and self-destructive, all in the safety of a slickly-produced
pop confectioner's treat.
     Their brilliant single "Vow" is prime Garbage. Opening with a
tremendous, stereo-strobe guitar figure, singer Shirley Manson eerily
whispers "I can't use what I can't abuse," leading to morose
denunciations: "I've come to cut you up/...knock you down/...tear your
little world apart." In an outstanding case of musical grave robbing,
the song's bridge steals, note for note, The Beatles' "No Reply," which
strangely adds to "Vow"'s 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, it's 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 ("My Lover's Box") to techno-grunge
("Heaven Is Wide") to Lou Reedish cosmopolitan ("Queer"). 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 ("Milk," "Stroke Of Luck"), but attempts at social
commentary ("Supervixen," "Stupid Girl") sound insincere, like yet
another "alternative" 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. There's no danger here, just an extremely well-crafted pop
product. ***


LUNA: Penthouse (Elektra)
By Bill Holdship
     Despite its clever title, Luna's third Elektra release isn't 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), that's meant as the highest compliment.
     Sure, most of us rock-critic types are sick of hearing "Velvet
Underground-influenced" in relationship to modern bands; since the
Cowboy Junkies' 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 "V.U.-influenced" supergroup of sorts, since
its members come from three other bands that actually used the
inspiration quite well--Galaxie 500, the Chills, and New Jersey's
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 don't mean the "1-2-3-4!" Ramones rip-offs that
we're all sick of at this point. "Chinatown," the kickoff track here,
begins with a haunting Duane Eddy riff before descending into melodic
distortion reminiscent of the Velvets' classic third LP. "Double
Feature" could be a Joy Division outtake. And the brilliant lyrics just
jump out at you all over the place: "You're out all night, chasing
girlies/Late to work and you go home earlies" (J. Richman, phone home!);
"You were stuck in a dream/And you wanted to scream/But it's nothing at
all."
     The last rhyme is totally appropriate, as Luna takes you to a place
that's dream-like, albeit both haunting and beautiful. Truly
psychedelic. When it comes to Velvet-type bands, this one's 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 "My Way?" It was
an aural experience horrifying beyond belief, I think you'll agree. In a
way, that song's 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. It's Las
Vegas in a garage. Musical cognitive dissonance.
     Born To Quit is either the best or second-best record I've heard
this year. The Popes--three average-lookin' Joes from the Chicago area
who are brothers, plus an average-lookin' Mike who's 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 "Need You Around," a monster of tempo & rhythm if there
ever was one: When Caterer sings "`Cause I'm lost and I need to be
found," it's so heartfelt that I'm inclined to believe him. Or "Mrs. Me
And You," a relatively more lilting tune that puts Caterer in what seems
to be his usual romantic underdog role. Or "Gotta Know Right Now," which
may be the best song Ray Davies never sang...but one he might've 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 '50s. One day he whistled at a white woman--a
transgression that cost him his life. He was shot and thrown in a nearby
river. It's a story that's saturated with symbolism and metaphors, none
of which were lost on this Fairfax, Va.-based band. With their moniker,
they've resurrected him; with the title of their debut album they've
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 there's much more
going on than words alone. The music flows over all kinds of terrain.
"Jump In the Water" is the placid, gleaming Blue Nile pouring over a
chunky Pixies-esque ground. "Broken Oar" has a pre-Fly U2 feel with
glistening guitarwork trickling over the spare rhythms. "Expect Me" has
the quavery urgency of Counting Crows without the Van Morrison conceit.
The exceedingly Smiths-like "When Morning Comes" soars, while "You're So
Pretty" is a spry and quietly morose meditation on unrequited love. Todd
Watt is a vocal chameleon and it's 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 Emmet's ghost to rest. ***