THE DAMNATIONS
Where It Lands
(Joy-Ride)
It's 1971, and I'm three years old, staring out the screen door at the rain. My parents are spinning Willie and the Poor Boys again. It's good to watch the rain, and somehow, at age three, I know it. This is probably the first defining moment of my taste in music.
Creedence Clearwater Revival created more great songs than most folks realize, and they did it with simple, roots-respecting arrangements, good songs, and a bucketful of talent. So do the Damnations.
On Where It Lands, their third CD proper, the Damnations present eleven sparkling, rootsy gems, most of which sound like the band could perform music this good in their sleep; they just sound natural and right. Kickoff "All Night Special" is a sweet little head-bobber with clever wordplay and sisters Amy Boone and Deborah Kelly's soaring harmony vocals. Doug Sahm's "Wanna Be Your Mama" is another joyful reinterpretation of formula, with barrelhouse piano paired nicely with electric guitar textures. Again, they make it sound easy.
When they challenge themselves, as on "Quarter in the Couch," the results are gorgeous. It opens with gospel-style Rhodes keys before creeping into a sparse Stones-ish bit. And "Steeple Full of Swallows," written by Kevin Russell of the Gourds, is perhaps the CD's centerpiece. Subtle toms, organ and vibrato guitar blossom into a Southern soul mantra. "You must be the reason all the lights go down," sing the sisters. This is a case of knowing you've conjured up something powerful enough that you don't have to cram it with words.
Vocalist/banjoist Rob Bernard contributes substantially as well. On "Root On," he sings with just enough range and rock rip to put most critics' alt.country darlings to shame. The chorus of "Animal Children," set to brush snare and acoustic guitar, brings to mind solo John Lennon (think "Mind Games"). I have no idea what this song is about, but the canned string bit in the bridge works somehow, like some of the oddball stuff the Beatles used.
Two days ago, my fifteen-month-old son stood quietly at the front window, watching a torrential downpour, clutching his toy tractor, and listening to the Where It Lands with me. I'd like to think the Damnations will help point him down the path of taste. Brian Briscoe [buy it]
For fans of: Little Grizzly, the Derailers, Pat Haney
EELS
Souljacker
(DreamWorks)
It's so easy to say it's become an increasingly facile phrase, but it must be applied here: Souljacker is the best eels album yet. The band's fourth album is not only its most accomplished synthesis of power pop and hip-hop, but also its most consistent set of songs. Joined by bassist Koool G Murder and multi-instrumentalist John Parish (PJ Harvey, 16 Horsepower, et al), singer/songwriter E and stalwart drummer Butch rock harder than ever before, even as they shore up the beat quotient. "Jungle Telegraph," for example, combines its distorted guitar riffs with a funky-butt rhythm track in ways Limp Bizkit could never attempt. The entire disk has a beat-heavy emphasis derived from hip-hop while still remaining true to the spirit of the songs. Speaking of which, E is really on a roll here. Rocking characters studies like "Dog Faced Boy," "Teenage Witch" and the title track balance unsavory individuals on phat six-string riffs. Moodier tunes like "Bus Stop Boxer" and "Woman Driving, Man Sleeping" manifest heavy emotional undercurrents with lighter, more melodic music. Lovelorn ditties like "Fresh Feeling" (bouncy pop), "World of Shit" (brooding ballad) and "That's Not Really Funny" (pissed-off rock, with lines like "You must not continue to emasculate me/The neighbor children through the window can clearly see") freely move between stylistic poles without a trace of dilettantism. Co-producers E and Parish maintain a coherent rock/hop tone throughout, letting the hooks and beats do their work. Souljacker is a stellar edition to an already excellent catalog.
Initial copies of Souljacker include a bonus disk of four more songs, highlighted by "I Write the B-sides" and "Rotten World Blues." Michael Toland [buy it]
For fans of: Beck, Sparklehorse, Tonio K
STEVE MORSE BAND
Split Decision
(Magna Carta)
The Steve Morse Band's Split Decision is one difficult CD to get a handle on. Yeah, the arrangements are well above and beyond the "riffs I can solo over" pieces of which other guitar gods have been guilty. A sense of melody certainly weaves its way through über-picker Morse's playing, both in his soloing and the very guts of the songs. And the trio's rhythm section of bassist Dave LaRue and drummer Van Romaine is a juggernaut tandem capable of seismic rock interlock and subtle rhythmic interplay.
But all of this is just fancier wrapping on the same old gift. "Heightened Awareness" is built on one of those impossible time signatures, with jagged guitar/bass counterplay and speaker-shaking riffage. Still, it just sounds like music ESPN2 will use for skateboarding footage. And for the heavier numbers, that's essentially what we get. "Mechanical Frenzy" is indeed a frenzy of chugging riffs and speedy picking. "Gentle Flower, Hidden Beast," is built on one of the CD's many speedy overtures. So it goes, over and over.
The album is thematically divided into loud and quiet songs, and the latter certainly don't shake the curse. Instead of personality-less rock raveups, they're noodling, mildly melodic wallpaper. "Great Mountain Spirits" is close to hummable in spots, though this isn't enough to support multi-layered acoustic pastiche and chest-thumping outro soloing. "Back Porch" is mutated country hotdogging, and "Natural Flow," despite quasi-Celtic passages, is vanilla enough to flirt with new age.
But expecting more from a CD such as this is like wishing a zebra would lose its stripes because you're in the mood for a horse ride. Among the purveyors of instrumental rock guitar music, Morse is a safer bet than Steve Vai or Joe Satriani. Brian Briscoe [buy it]
For fans of: Allan Holdsworth, Eric Johnson, Steve Vai
NEGATIVLAND
Dick Vaughn's Moribund Music of the 70's: Over the Edge Vol. 4
(Seeland)
Negativland's latest opus is a double-CD set collecting skits and ephemera from Over the Edge, the audio collage collective's long-running Berkeley radio show. Built around excerpts from a show by a 80s radio jock, Dick Vaughn's Moribund Music of the 70's piles on commercials, news reports, song snippets (Tom Petty's "You Got Lucky" and tunes by somebody called Bob Chance seems to be the favorites), public radio documentaries, conservative commentaries, porn soundbites, radio contests, softcore film trailers and pretty much any piece of audio offal the group thinks interesting enough to weave into its complex electronic tapestry. It's an incredibly dense and demanding album, nearly two-and-a-half hours of audio trickery, snarky viewer comments and witty one-liners that go by in a deadpan rush. Vaughn's "More On Music" segments provide plenty of chuckles, as only the host seems unaware of his own ridiculousness. He even reports the demise of a Beatle in "Ringo is Dead," without bothering to verify the rumor, and pre-prepares "A Tape For All Deaths," an audio post mortem statement that comes in handy after the plane crash.
The off-air surveys of Vaughn's "Moribund Music of the 70's" show are even better, hilarious commentary on the whole concept of themed music shows and the listeners who tune in. (In fact, those segments are smart enough to render the expositional "Crowley Bendix and the Damage Done" portion largely unnecessary.) The funniest tracks feature thick-headed sports commentator Roy Storey, whose favorite insult is to tell "dropouts" that if they were given a new brain, they'd be half-wits. This is the type of record that requires absolute close attention in order to catch all the gags, and even then you'll probably miss enough of them to require multiple listens. Which would be the point‹the more you hear it, the more the group's ingenious pop culture deconstruction becomes. Ultimately, it's best not to analyze Negativland's work in print for too long—better to just fill up your lungs and dive in. Michael Toland [buy it]
For fans of: Firesign Theatre, Bill Hicks, Monty Python
RENEE ROSNES
Life on Earth
(Blue Note)
This Canadian-born, New York-based pianist sticks mostly to a hard-bop style on her latest album Life on Earth. Joined by world-class musicians like bassists John Patitucci and Christian McBride, drummer Jeff "Tain" Watts, saxophonist Chris Potter and tabla master Zakir Hussain, she applies her lyrical keyboard chops to melodious originals like "Empress Afternoon," "Nana" and the aggressively boppin' "Icelight." Her playing is tasteful and skilled, but never over-the-top, and her bandmates stay out of her way without being too deferent. Rosnes also draws a bit on her East Indian heritage on the exciting jazz/raga hybrids "Senegal Son" and "Hanuman." However, she has a touch for softer, more listener-friendly material. "The Quiet Earth" nearly drowns in heavy-handed string arrangements, and the album-closing "The Call of Triton" would sound like Weather Report if played on electric instruments. Overall, though, Rosnes' melodic touch and well-written tunes keep her out of trouble. Michael Toland [buy it]
For fans of: Mulgrew Miller, Geri Allen, Bennie Green
THE STAR ROOM BOYS
This World Just Won't Leave You Alone
(Slewfoot)
It doesn't take much digging to discover that "alt.country" is a funny critter. The Star Room Boys fall under this heading, apparently, because they write waltzes and two-steps about heartbreak, whiskey, trucks and being in jail. That might sound like Merle Haggard or George Jones territory, but it's alternative because it's not what Nashville's cranking out these days. No, Nashville is too busy cranking out Shania Twain videos.
And the classic country ethos on This World Just Won't Leave You Alone is the biggest part of what makes the Star Room Boys so refreshing. Singer/songwriter Dave Marr sings like a sedate Jason Ringenberg, and he paints heartbreaking portraits on the Boys' second CD. "I got a dollar to buy my wine," he sings on kickoff track "White Lies, Blue Tears," and you want to pony up. In the tradition of Haggard's "I Think I'll Just Stay Here and Drink," Marr's "Whiskey and You" confesses, "Whiskey is winnin' between whiskey and you." "I Can't Stand to Be Alone," a two-step, is built around sweet pedal steel. "The rules are always different, but the winner's still the same," sings Marr, who's not too proud to throw in some Haggard-type yodeling at the end.
No, Marr isn't the second coming of Lefty Frizzell, and he can be a bit of a wordy lyricist. But for anyone who has spent any significant time in honky tonks, the Star Room Boys are comfortably familiar. Brian Briscoe [buy it]
For fans of: Dallas Wayne, Merle Haggard, Waylon Jennings
34 SATELLITE
Stop
(Hideaway)
34 Satellite is tough to put a finger on. At its best, the band mesmerizes with swirling electric sounds, such as on "Smoke from a Funeral." At its worst, it's content to bop along to modest riffs, doing nothing overtly wrong, but nothing overtly right either.
Singer/lyricist Marc Benning is gifted with a vulnerable, capable voice that at times echoes, say, that of Paul Westerberg. And indeed, "Get Out Alive" bops and shimmies like late-era Replacements, with a vocal hook reminiscent of "I'll Be You" from 1989's Don't Tell a Soul. That's the height of their mid-tempo rockers. From there, Stop is littered with fistfuls of benign riffery. Pleasant, but forgetful.
Where the band excels is when it indulges its psychedelic and/or appropriately bombastic tendencies. Opener "Elijah St. Marie" is entrancing, eliciting hints of Varnaline (who have also utilized the services of producer John Agnello) as Benning sings, "I'm calling Elijah St. Marie. Can you hear me? Can you hear me?" "Stop" is sadly beautiful at first, with sparse acoustic guitar and throaty bass, before jumping into full anthemic crunch a la the Smashing Pumpkins' "Today" or Radiohead's "Creep." "Rock Stars Plastic Cars" is more of the spinning, noisy, squawky good stuff. By the time finale "Spaceman" rolls around, though, even the trippy material has lost some steam, forte or not. What should work as a mantra, or at least unreleased tension, merely meanders.
So 34 Satellite, which chooses to tread water instead of dive, will have to remain in the "potential" file for now. Brian Briscoe
For fans of: late-era Replacements, Smashing Pumpkins, Flaming Lips
