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albums

DAVID KILGOUR Here Come The Cars

(Flying Nun) With a title that could be interpreted as a veiled promise or something inevitable, David Kilgour has left the shackles of his various bands to follow more diverse instincts on his first solo album. Recorded in Wellington last June with the Strangelove's rhythm section of Noel Ward and Tane

Tokona, Here Come The Cars is a

major step for one of the country's best songwriters.

Seemingly exposed and vulnerable outside of a band context, Kilgour, right from the simple warts n'all portrait of the front sleeve, has turned his personal revelations into a minor

triumph. Right from the melodic, atmospheric title track it's obvious that this ain't the Clean and from there

Kilgour spins some of his best tunes, a lot of them woven around delicate

country/ pastoral influences. 'You Forgef is the perfect single with its irresistable “1a... la" chorus and on 'Sometimes' something resembling the way Dylan used to sound emerges in a country setting, a scene further developed in the spindly charm of 'Spin You Round' and 'Kills All My Fun'. 'Spasm' is the only out-and-out surge of kinetic energy, the only song to link Kilgour to his formative days when the Buzzcocks and Wire ruled the earth.

It's been a long way from there to songs like 'Because It Was You' and 'Splash Your Jewels', the artist laid bare. Like Chilton without Big Star or Kuepper without the Saints or even Stamey minus the DB's, Kilgour has made a successful and moving

transition to solo status. GEORGE KAY ROLLINS BAND The End Of Silence (Imago) Damn this is good! Even ignoring all possible bias, The End Of Silence is just a totally fine album. Everything about the Rollins Band seems to have been honed to an edge so sharp it could split a hair. There's absolutely nothing surplus about this record, the playing is utterly precise, the production clean and big and lyrically, Rollins is pulling no punches with his celebrations of pain and anguish. Admittedly, this is no casual, hook-laden item, the listener needs to be prepared to work for his experience. The Rollins Band hurl shards of noise that are as much Black Sabbath meets the Butthole Surfers as they are 'hardcore', and you have to be able to withstand them, shrug them off and find that core of pleasure that lies in endurance.

If that sort of thing appeals, then the true excitement is to be found in the huge, jammed out moments. Stuff like 'Obscene' and 'Blues Jam', songs that clock in at the eight minutes-plus mark are the high points. Here the band gets to really stretch, tempos leap around,

moods are built then exploded and musical themes are taken well beyond their expected limits. It's insanely ;■ overwhelming at times, but if you can listen through it without weakening, The End Of Silence is a very near perfect rock moment. Threat, insanity, and sheer pain are all here, but held in perfect control, a mix of power and beauty to twist your mind. KIRKGEE LITTLE VILLAGE (Reprise) Little Village is the same four musicians who made John Hiatt's fine -1987 album Bring The Family. This time out they're working as equal partners — hence the silly name and all the songs are credited to Cooder/ Hiatt/ Keltner/ Lowe. And if the album again demonstrates the old axiom that musical democracy doesn't lead to greater creativity, it also shows that there can be compensations. Firstly Little Village isn't totally terrific: a fair few songs seem like communal riffs beefed up into songs. There's also the nagging doubt, common in 'supersessions' such as this, as to whether the participants have contributed all their best ideas or held some back for solo projects. On the other hand Little Village does contain a delightful variety of styles. Ry CoOder's sensibility pervades the tex-mex stomp of 'The Action' as well as the sad, yearning 'Do You Want My Job' (which, in its beautiful Caribbean langour, recalls his theme for the film Alamo Bay). It's not hard to detect the pure pop influence of Nick Lowe either. Both . Take Another Look' and'Fool Who Knows' have instantly memorable hooks while 'Don't Go Away Mad' will nag you silly for days. Such variety may mean Little Village lacks the focus of Hiatt's Bring The Family but, in utilising three vocalists, we are spared the unrelieved nasality of Hiatt's singing on that album. The instrumental work is as stunning as last time with Hiatt now proving he can be almost as incisive d guitarist as Cooder. Jim Keltneris drumming is, as ever, a treat. Little Village is an album by four master craftsmen rejoicing in one another's company. They can boisterously poke fun at their own middle age in the funky 'Solar Sex Panel' and then offer sorrowful comfort with 'Don't Think About Her When You're Trying To Drive'. This song alone is as good as any the individual writers have recorded in recent years. As part-time supergroups go. Little Village sure beats the hell out of outfits like the Travelling Wilburys. PETER THOMSON

PAUL KELLY AND THE MESSENGERS Hidden Things (Mushroom) As hinted by the title this is an 18-strong collection of mainly non-album curios like B-sides, re-mixes and the odd single. Bits and pieces it may be, but Kelly has afforded it some stature with its careful and intelligent

packaging and beneath the surface the contents sing forthemselves. Kelly's standing as a master craftsman doesn't need further elucidation here, suffice to say the variety and quality of these "also-rans" would kick the product of most accomplished writers into the shade. Kelly's grasp of the folk ballad, the essence of being Australian, is amply dealt with on 'Bradman' and 'Rally Round the Dawn' and in a similar vein of narrative writing the more contemporary revelations of 'Other People's Houses' are a treat. Pop-wise, 'Hard Times' has a chorus worth clamouring for and his interpretation of Australian Crawl's 'Reckless' sounds like the song was written for him. Hidden Things is not uniformly consistent enough to be placed alongside bona fide Kelly albums, but there's too many shining examples of the man's gift here for them to remain hidden. GEORGE KAY SOLID COLD HITS Compilation (Pagan) Thirteen Dunedin bands were selected from over 50 demos to show "the wide range and high standard of Dunedin music in 1991". Some of the bands appearing here have already earned themselves a profile, such as Tin Soldiers (runners up in last year's National Rock Quest), My Deviant Daughter, Cynthia Should and the now defunct Das Phaedrus. Others are ’ unknown perhaps outside their social circles — Big Eds Used Farms, Laughing Gas, Quartermass, Flying Vanettes. Others are known by name only: the Lesser Gibbons, the Webbsters, Glovepuppet. Also included is a few seconds of local cult poet Gaylene's epic 'Dunedin' (why not include the whole thing?) and David Eggleton doing a sonic rant (isn't he a writer from Auckland?). - Young and largely unknown as most of these bands are, the overall tone of the recording is somewhat tame: too many wanna-be Verlaines in quick succession. Tin Soldiers' dance groove perks things up a bit on Side One and ' My Deviant Daughter manage to < sound more deviant than their - album-mates. The techno-weirdo track 'Sucker' by Laughing Gas is a welcome dose of freakishness on Side Two, and Big Eds Used Farms do a fairly stylish blues-guitar rock pastiche. Otherwise, no certifiable hits coming at you from here. Perhaps the compilers were playing safe in their band and song selections. DONNA YUZWALK CURVE Doppelganger (Anxious/ BMG) THE CATHERINE WHEEL . Ferment (Fontana) Iwo more typical products of the supposedly "post-My Bloody Valentine" assembly line, typical in that they're completely dissimilar and have as much to do with MBV's abstract

guitar delirium as with be-bop or Renaissance madrigals (too little). Curve are what the charts, if we must have the damn things, should be full of, despite a disturbing connection with AOR high priest Dave Stewart. Their album is one big pop gesture, unmemorable but incandescent, in which lust and hate, free noise and electronic order, Soft Cell and the Jesus and Mary Chain are so inseparable that the term "cyberpunk" seems almost worth dusting off, if only for the travesty value. The Catherine Wheel (no relation to the Christchurch band of the same name) couldn't be more different. They're far too serious to reinvent their angst as artificial-sublime posturing, but they want to be "accessible", a word which, when hardcore rap, metal and techno are proven sellers, signifies nothing but a desire not to take risks. It's hard to believe that anyone's desires could be so pitiful, but it seems that they've listened to Ride and the House Of Love and decided they want to be like that, only still more feeble. Ferment is a depressing little record, not because its vaguely melancholic mush of plaintive vocals and sort-of-noisy guitars is in any way affecting, but because it shows how much the noise-plus-something-else formulae that seemed like the way forward only a couple of years ago has been debased. MATTHEW HYLAND RIDE Going Black Again (Creation / Sire) It seems a lot of Brit releases these days blend into a time or scene and seem both lost and dated when it passes. The select few, however, go on to set the pace. After one listen to the opening track, the anthemic 'Leave Them All Behind', you understand why Robert Smith proclaims Ride to be the latter.

Ride have come a long way from the vacant despondency of Nowhere. Glorious melodies and uplifting chord sequences in tracks like Twiterella' show us just how far. Even more of an improvement has come from the distinct nature of each song. Unlike Lush, Chapterhouse and their other "Happy (Thames) Valley" stablemates, the tracks on Going Blank Again don't blur into each other.

'Chrome Waves', sweetly driven by its acoustic guitar, seems to float on its own atmosphere. 'Cool Your Boots' provides an exciting musical paradox to the beautifully downplayed lyrics: "Across 50 states of mind I didn't feel inclined..." (opening with a brilliant sample from Withnail And I: "Even a stopped clock gives the right time twice a day"). 'Time of Her Time', 'Making Judy Smile' and 'DX4' are other outstanding tracks worth raving about, but a good song says more than a

thousand reviews ever could. Guitar based bands like Ride (thankfully) killed the Babby scene. Going Blank Again shows you how easy it was for them. JOHN TAITE

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Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/RIU19920501.2.56

Bibliographic details

Rip It Up, Issue 178, 1 May 1992, Page 26

Word Count
1,754

albums Rip It Up, Issue 178, 1 May 1992, Page 26

albums Rip It Up, Issue 178, 1 May 1992, Page 26