Clash course

Press, 30 April 1981, Page 14

Clash course

! ELLEN FOLEY “The Spirit Of St Louis” (Epic ELPS 4197). In spite of Ellen Foley’s album being named after Charles Lindbergh’s aircraft, the record has a distinctive European feel to it. Then, ( when you name such groups as The Clash, the Blockheads, and folkie Tymon Dogg having a hand in the “till” then it is not surprising. Six of the 12 songs come '. from Joe Strummer and Mick Jones, “the boyfriend” also being credited' as the ; producer, but while the two members of The Clash may : hog the album, fans need not worry as it does not mean ‘..the demise of the band. “The Spirit of St Louis” is ;;a definite contrast to the ' rockier debut record, “Nightbout,” and at the same time is 1 an improvement, as a bit of ’ European culture seems to ;have rubbed off on Foley b during her stay in Britain -•while the album was re•L corded. Her voice has become 'more of an instrument in its J own right as the interesting Strummer-Jones song “The Death of the Psychoanalyst i of Salvador Dali” attests, ? apparently a true story in "which the painter’s “shrink” . dies while counselling his • artistic patient. T Foley also does an excellent, emotional rendition of Edith Piaf’s “My Legionnaire,” but some of the other tracks are not as '•'.startling, especially the duet ’‘with Joe Strummer on ‘Torchlight.” U However, Strummer-Jones’ ;* “The Shuttered Palace,” 7 which opens the album,, immediately holds interest be--7T cause of its strident rhythm and its appeal to “the sons of s Europe.” Of more interest

still is “Beautiful Waste of Time,” with interested guitar and snatches of sax in the background. Tymon Dogg shows his writing qualities on “The Game Of A Man” and “Indestructible,” and for this reason the album has struck some as being “folk” oriented. However, this seems a little unfair as it is Foley’s voice that makes the album, and in spite of not penning 11 'of the tracks, the album shows her real potential.— Nevin Topp.

THE RESIDENTS “Commercial Album” (Ralph). Wondering which way the musical winds will blow after Adam and the Ants shuck their war paint and become insurance salesmen?

Worried about which group to follow when The Jam finally gets put on the shelf? Search no more. That band of Anonymous Rock musicians from San Francisco — The Residents — will still be spreading their version of the New New Wave.

These boys are right out on the ethereal edge. With “Commercial Album,” they may have even leaped off the edge and into the void. Follow them into 40 of the most accessible tracks you’re likely to find these days. Chuck Berry perfected the three-minute rock and roll song. The Residents have it down to an art — all their songs last exactly a minute. If you don’t like one song, it’s never long till the next.

Some of the music sounds best up close, some sounds better from the next room. One of our friends, whose musical tastes change as quickly as flipped book pages, thinks The Residents sound best from the next

block, with the volume turned way down. All right, so buying The Residents album may be a gamble, sort of like buying a hat. Their music may sit floppy about your ears, but it could make your head sit up and take notice. Take a chance.

The songs are like tiny dreams set to synthesised Oriental and Red Indian rhythms. Sometimes ydu can catch strains of familiar tunes, such as “Catch a Falling Star and Put It In Your Pocket.”

But each song has a minimum of words to clutter up and short melodies. In “Suburban Bathers,” an angry reaction to bourgeois behaviour at city beaches, we are told: “If they learn to love themselves, they might survive the murky dells.” In “Dimples and Toes,” the singer was “her father a long time ago, kissing her dimples and touching her toes.” The Residents sometimes

get existential almost to the extreme, seeing themselves as harmless souls on the inside, wishing they were on the outside, wishing they weren’t stuck.

But they are sometimes saved from domestic drudgery in mystical outside forces. In “Easter Woman” a woman “came today and took away my wife, took her to an open doorway, to the afterlife.”

They say the only perfect love is the one that gets away. Don’t let The Residents get away. With their album, you will either live it up, or you won’t be able to live it down.

By the way, Snakefinger — a Residents hanger-on mentioned on the album cover — is expected to make an appearance at the Gladstone soon.

He’s so anonymous you may not be able to pick him out, but he’ll be there, helping to change the face of modern music.—Stan Darling.