Album Reviews

GUN BARREL
Power-Dive
(Limb/SPV)
This German headbanger quartet believes in the power of rock 'n' roll: "I sing my rock song to find the truth," belts the singer in "For All Like You." "Don't let the bastards grind you down!" he advises in "Bomb Attack." Yeah, rock on, dude! Wooo! Actually, despite the deadpan seriousness of his delivery, the vocalist (no liner info, sorry) and his mates seem more interested in just rocking out and having a good time than in proselytizing. They're also cheeky enough to follow a song called "Gate of God" with one titled "Straight Down to Hell." The guitars ring loud and riff-happy, the drums pound with a reasonable amount of finesse and the gritty vocals sound custom-built for this kind of mindless buffoonery. Power-Dive doesn't fit into the usual Euro-Metal mold of soaring, classically inspired melodies and shrieking vocals. It sounds instead like it could have come from a band of beer-soaked louts in a bar in the Midwest United States or Australia. This kind of music comes alive in concert, and that's no doubt where these boys shine. Roughhewn and ready to rock, Gun Barrel sounds like it would be happy to tear up the stage all night long. Michael Toland

For fans of: Rose Tattoo, Judas Priest, Mötley Crüe

THE IRVING KLAWS
Pajama Party
(Get Hip)
Buffalo, NY's intrepid horndogs the Irving Klaws proudly present their latest album Pajama Party in lurid Technicolor. Dubbing their pungent brew "pervasonic," the band, led by guitarist David C. Gutierrez, gleefully purees elements of punk, surf, rockabilly, 60s garage rock and even a bit of old-school ska in a blender they must have found on the set of a David F. Friedman movie. The guitars leer, the bass throbs and the drums try to look up your skirt on such vaguely smutty ditties as "The Sniffer," "Put 'em On" and "Dig My Six" (inches, we suppose). Even better is "Teenage Curse," a pounding ode to hormone-induced solo activity that ends with Gutierrez shouting "I'll be right down! Don't come up!" over and over. There's little here musically that the Reverend Horton Heat hasn't already done, but cranking up the burlesque earns the Irving Klaws a spot in the annals of sleaze rock. Michael Toland

For fans of: Reverend Horton Heat, Huevos Rancheros, the Cramps

ADAM SCHMITT
Demolition
(Parasol)
In the early 90s singer/songwriter Adam Schmitt galvanized the power pop underground with the albums World So Bright and Illiterature, rock candy confections dazzling in their melodic poise and audiophile-level sound—and on a major label, no less. Then he went into studio hibernation, producing other artists, forever polishing his next album and building up a reclusive legend akin to that of Brian Wilson. Being a mere compilation of demos, Demolition is allegedly not the proper follow-up to Illiterature, but it's a strong collection of all-new songs, with production quality that surpasses most bands' finished tracks. A distorted vocal pops up here and there, but otherwise these numbers exhibit no influence of current trends, sticking to Schmitt's usual modus operandi of crunchy guitars, lush keys and great, made-for-the-genre vocals. Highlights include the wonderfully catchy rockers "See Me Fall," "Alone on a Crashing Plane" and "Let's Make This Easy," while the emotionally fragile "Timeless" is his best ballad yet. Despite its supposedly modest origins, Demolition is a supremely worthy addition to the Schmitt catalog. Michael Toland

For fans of: Fountains of Wayne, Matthew Sweet, the Rave-Ups

WHISKEYTOWN
Pneumonia
(Lost Highway)
With Whiskeytown being a hot name at the time this album was recorded, you'd think their label would have put in more effort to make sure it came out, no matter what. But in 1998 the major labels got caught up in mergers and shutdowns and general upheaval, and Pneumonia got lost in the ensuing shuffle. Sadly, the band split soon after. Now, thanks to the efforts of bandleader Ryan Adams and Lost Highway president Luke Lewis, the final Whiskeytown album finally sees the light of day.

Is it worth the wait? That depends on how high your expectations are for an album that quickly (and perhaps unfairly) achieved legendary status as alternative country's Smile. If you're expecting something on the genius level you're sure to be disappointed. The band was down to a trio of Adams, fiddler/singer Caitlin Cary and multi-instrumentalist Mike Daly at the time of recording, with the gaps being filled in the main by producer/jack-of-all-trades Ethan Johns. Adams and Johns have crafted a very song-oriented album here, with a dry mix that puts the focus squarely on Adams' voice. The rock 'n' roll drive Whiskeytown was known for live but only sporadically captured on record is completely absent here, and frankly, the album lacks punch as a result. Adams is a fine songwriter, and the quiet beauty of songs like "Jackson Skyline" and "Don't Be Sad" is often stunning. But the consistently mellow mood, coupled with Adams' nice but predictable melodies, gives the album a sameness that may discourage the multiple listens required to fully appreciate it. As a final album, Pneumonia is a bit of a letdown. Better to look at it as another stage in the development of a group that, had bad luck not intervened, could have been one of the all-time greats. Michael Toland

For fans of: Jackson Browne, Wilco, Blue Rodeo

LUCINDA WILLIAMS
Essence
(Lost Highway)
All eyes and ears are on this album, the followup to Lucinda Williams' Grammy-nominated smash Car Wheels on a Gravel Road. Being the true artist that she is, Williams doesn't take the easy path here, despite the scrutiny. Not that Essence produced by Williams, Bo Ramsey and Charlie Sexton, is any kind of radical departure for her, but it's not Car Wheels II either. Written and recorded more quickly than the hit, Essence strips her literature-informed songs down to, well, their essences. Williams has always been about pure emotional expression, and she's never been as intimate as she is here. On songs like "Steal Your Love," "Reason to Cry" and "Blue," she sounds like she's revealing her deepest needs while sitting on your couch sharing a pot of tea. Even her always wonderful singing has more of an ache in it than she's ever shown before. That's not to say she's being confessional in the literal sense—anyone trying to pick out which line refers to which ex-boyfriend is being ghoulishly nitpicky anyway. But the sparse musical backing makes her sound even more than usual like she's laying out her feelings on her bare sleeve. It's not all sad, of course, as the rowdy satire "Get Right With God" and the lustful title track make clear. But the combination of gentle melodies, low-key production and hushed tones make for an album without the immediate appeal of Car Wheels. Patience, however, will be richly rewarded. Michael Toland

For fans of: Steve Earle, Gillian Welch, Joni Mitchell