RECORDINGS

Rip It Up, Issue 183, 1 October 1992, Page 26

RECORDINGS

NEW ZEALAND FIGURE 60 Sludger , t . Figure 60 are an Auckland three piece with noisy guitar, bass, drums and dreamy vocal melodies. Somehow they’ve come to the . conclusion that this makes them “totally original” and “owing nothing whatsoever to current musical trends." In fact I can count the local groups who don’t sound a bit like them on the fingers of a closed fist, but that doesn’t matter too much, ‘cause out of all their contemporaries they come just about the closest getting the guitar to sound really like a molten lava flow, while for once the vocals actually do suggest langour instead of malnourishment and the rhythm section understands the value of open spaces. So they’ve proved that they can do the familiar better than properly; Bludger has a big, lush sound, especially for a demo recorded in a living room on an 8-track. Here’s hoping they do their next one in a cathedral or a jungle or a sewer. ■ ' 1 MATTHEW HYLAND

AXEMEN Across The Universe in 3288 Days (Sleek Bott/ Frisbee) Genuinely big deal — 1 st official puntage of the Axemen’s alreadylegendary Frisbee sessions! 4 songs, of which the epic mostlyinstrumental ‘Sputnik Stomp’ is the truckin’-est (snake-charming oriental gtr lines, kettledrum thunder, ‘Skinhead Moonstomp’-style ejaculations and much else). ‘Sober Is A Judge’ and Bob Brannigan’s bird-flip to the New Age ‘Stop Staring At Me W/ Yr 3rd Eye’ are “normal rock songs” done right and ‘NYCBC is Burt Bacharach drunk on his ass and sniggering feverishly at nothing in some seedy bowling alley. Attention Axemen fans everywhere! I’m sure you’ll both love it! D. ZARAKOV

THE CHILLS Double Summer (Flying Nun) Martin’s in love for summer and exhorting us to “share it with one another” on a somewhat featureless song from the album Soft Bomb. Also, two demos: ‘Halo Fading’ is standard acousticy jiggle; ‘Sanctuary’ is a socially aware song about a woman trapped in a violent marriage set to a Randy Newman-esque keyboard refrain which makes you listen out for the bite but this song is compassion itself. DONNA YUZWALK

DIRTBOX Complicity Power pop with a cutting edge from this Auckland three-piece. Robert (who used to front Kaleidopops) plays guitar with verve but his singing style sounds like a collision between Fergal Sharkey and Jello Biafra — his vocal chords quiver like a plucked bow while delivering politically conscious lyrics with Biafran explosiveness. Some innovative BBC World Service samples on ‘Revolution’ and nifty guitar melodics on ‘Candy Delight’. A solid nine song debut from a local band that avoids current Auckland rock cliches. DONNA YUZWALK

TED BROWN Swerve (Pagan) There’s something 70s sounding about this man’s vocal chords, although he sounds more like Don McClean on the gentle B side ‘Love Explodes’ (soon to be covered by the Straw People) than on A side ‘Swerve’, which has a soft-footed hook that loops around and tugs you along quite pleasantly. DONNA YUZWALK

REM ' . * Automatic For The People (Warner Music) ,* c T Judging by the faces of Messrs Berry, Buck, Mills and Stipe on the gatefold sleeve there are precious few laughs to be had on their new album. Melancholy, stark, stripped back, monochromatic and at times (for REM) inaccessable, is the order of the day. The opening track ‘Drive’ seems to be going on a Sunday outing to nowhere in particular until a searing guitar line barges into the front seat and takes control of the wheel. Aided and abetted by the Atlanta Symphony Strings the song takes a new direction and reaches a powerful climax. ‘Try Not To Breathe’ echoes Cat Stevens' 'Peace Train' but remains classic REM. From there, things begin to spiral down rather badly. The 'Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite' is a dumb pop song with the emphasis on dumb. 'Everybody Hurts' with 50s doo-wop style electric piano riff attempts to be a 'Rock 'n' Roll Suicide' for the 90s. Michael Stipe stretches his vocal mannerisms to the limit but the "you're not alone" lyrics are too cliched. If you have any interest in hearing what REM can come up with when they're running on empty at 2am then 'New Orleans Instrumental No 1' is for you. Personally, I wish the tape operator had forgotten to push the record button. 'Sweetness Follows' gets things back on track. With cello and severely feed-backing guitar underpinning the song as well as a powerful yet delicate vocal, a delicious atmosphere of loss, sorrow and hope is created. For REM, three out of six is not a good hit/ miss ratio on side one. . ; , . Things finally start rocking on

side two with 'lgnoreland'. Vocally and musically this track recalls some much earlier work of REM. Co-pro-ducer. Scott Litt pops up with some funky clavinet to help propel the sound along before Michael Stipe sweeps in, all deep-voiced lounge lizard for 'Star Me Kitten'. Listen to the last few lines and you'll hear the original title to this track. On the next song REM answer that age-old question "Is Elvis alive on a dude ranch on Venus?" Of course not — he's supplying backing vocals on the simply wonderful 'Man On The Moon'. Beautifully accompanied by piano and oboe, Micheal Stipe is stripped bare (literally) and at his most poignant on the gorgeous 'Nightswimming'. Undoubtedly this album finds REM charting a quieter, more reflective course and this track and the closing 'Find The River' get as close as anything on the album in helping them reach their goal. Wistful certainly — but also a tour-de-force. A strong triumvirate to finish on leaves this album feeling not so much Automatic as Erratic. REM may just have taken their contemplative ballad perspective to its logical conclusion on Automatic For The People. To paraphrase a sage rock and roll legend, it's now time they got back to where they once belonged. MARTIN BELL HUNTERS AND COLLECTORS Cut (Mushroom) SINGLE GUN THEORY Like Stars in My Hands (Volition) CHRIS WILSON Landlocked (Aurora) More odds n'sods from the land of Oz is headed by the staunch watchdogs of social justice, Hunters and Collectors who've developed a plan-

etary conscience to rival Midnight Oil's.

This sharpening of vision has led to a trimmer, harder and more focused seven piece with Palmer and Seymour's guitars dictating an edge that's derivative as hell but welcome for its diminished chestbeating heroics. The riff on 'Head Above Water' owes its shirt to the Kinks and 'Holy Grail' is the sound of Aussie armies marching to Boston's 'More Than A Feeling'. All good strident stuff. In the ballad line Seymour guides the band through poignant, swelling brass indictments of apathy in 'Hear No Evil' and 'Edge of Nowhere' and cleansing, aching love songs in 'Tears of Joy' and 'lmaginary Girl'. The impotent rage of 'We The People', an antidote to the usual

power-to-the-people chickenshit, shows how far this band has come down the defeated idealists road to cynicism/ realism. Idealogies aside, this is a rousing album, brave without being pompous. Power to the ahhh . . . Totally unrelated other than through nationality is Single Sun Theory, a Sydney trio trying desperately to be different with their eastern flavoured, sample oriented cruis : ing house music. With two keyboardists in tow and a bunch of smoothly grafted samples from street vocals and prayers in Kashmir and Istanbul, vocalist Jacqui Hunt takes care not to break the spell as she slides into the dreamy incantation groove of 'Angels Over Teheran', 'Take Me Back' and "I Am What I See' — the pick of a very smooth

shove on the dance floor. And if you don't like being shoved, expect this to be played in a yuppie exotic gift shop near you. ■ Country r'n'b Melbourne gentleman Chris Wilson couldn't be further from the strained effort at originality of Single Gun Theory. With a voice dripping rural eloquence, it's easy to see why he's been rubbing shoulders with Paul Kelly and Archie Roach. . Landlocked, the second album on Aurora, is unashamedly unfashionable in its country and r&b roots and although it doesn't break any new ground, songs like 'Alimony Blues', 'Wreckage' and 'The Big One' testify to Wilson's unaffected knack at blending the two styles. Worth catching. GEORGE KAY TINNITUS Futures Past (Flying Nun)' "Ambient" seems to be pretty much a term of abuse in "alternative" circles these days. This is a Shame, not only because the Muzak Corporation of America have recently given the losers who think lardass Morrison was. some kind of latterday Rimbaud the pipes n'strings version of 'Light My Fire' they always deserved (fact!) but because when confronted with something like Tinnitus most people can only think of airports and Brian Eno., Consequently they miss out on just about the only form of recorded music around that isn't designed to be received passively: the best stuff on this complilation of six years' recorded material worked as part of "ritualistic" live performances and makes just as good a soundtrack to doing the vacuuming. With so many people using sampling as nothing more ’ than a short-cut to boring precision, Tinnitus', willingness to take risks with the technology is heartwarming; the resulting inconsistency isn't a problem because the next five seconds might always be seismic or celestial or both. In fact the long collage of live, generally improvised performance excerpts is the best thing here, some of the subsequent song-length pieces suffer from the attempt to impose direction on fundamentally nomadic music. Only one part sucks unconditionally, though: 'Winds of Chaos', featuring somebody's embarrassing "spiritual", poetry is as sad as the "Theatre of Alchemy" Mike erroneously allowed onto the " Rotate Your State" bill. But what the hey (as the Americans are reputed to exclaim), you can drown it out with your own dub-noise: just pump up the volume on the vacuum cleaner. MATTHEW HYLAND THE SMITHS Beat Of.. .1 (Warner Music) Many still think of the Smiths as "those miserable bastards" but the glamour of Morrissey's poetic diffidence coupled with Johnny Marr's guitar mastery made them the most important British band of the eighties, noquestion. They were thejames Dean's of the music industry, outsiders that made ! everything else seem irrelevant and whose truncated existence assured their legend. >' * .' No "best of" is going to please everyone (and if your favourite isn't included there's always Best ... 2in a couple of months). They had too many great songs to sum up and any one selection fails to convey the personalities of their individual albums. But that aside, their ability to smash male stereotypes and liberate through passionate sadness is alluded to on the 14 tracks offered here. 'This Charming Man' bounces along with its up-tempo brilliance, the poignant misery of 'How Soon Is Now' and the snide 'Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before' haven't lost any of their potency. In fact you could go through every song and rave about their appeal and importance (well, with the-exception of 'Half A Person' and 'Some Girls' perhaps). Forget ironic comparisons with the record company necrophilia of 'Paint A Vulgar Picture'. Turn a blind eye to the fact that Warners are cashing in on the Smiths back catalogue now they've secured the rights. Let's just assume that Morrissey and Marr's rather commercial selection for this compilation is designed for the uninitiated. Because if you missed their timeless perfection the first time round, and you don't get this album, you'll go through life with a gaping hole in your musical experience. JOHN TAITE

ALTERN-8 Full On Mask Hysteria (Network) Whether or not techno says anything to you about your life, it isn't

going away — well not yet anyway. This resistant strain of acid house just keeps getting bigger, harder and more addictive. Altern-8 are techno's biggest pop hopes. They're not pop in a commercial mainstream sense but they are masters of the distinctive bite-sized tune. Full On Mask Hysteria proves they're also capable of filling an album without becoming tedious and from a genre that's never been strong outside of 12 inches, that's saying quite a bit. Though they're not quite as progressive as, say, the Orb, Chris Peat and Mark Archer are masters of the present techno wave. The beats are pulverising, the atmosphere is immediate and the overall effect is designed to numb you into a state of euphoria.

Tracks like 'A-D-8 With Plezure' are full of the obligatory air horns, crowd cheers and epileptic wooze synth. And classics (?) like 'lnfiltrate 202' and 'Hypnotic St-8' still rough it with the best of them. If it's a solid hit of techno blasting you require, blow your speakers to pieces with this. JOHN TAITE

ANGELO BADALAMENTI Twin Peaks — Fire Walk With Me (Warner Bros) If you've been following the David Lynch/ Angelo Badalamenti axis you probably know pretty much what to expect by now. Some very laid back instrumentals: schmoozing sax, noodling piano, cool vibes with an occasional hint of the dissonant. After hours jazz for not quite nodding off to. Then there's another Julee Cruise swoon to add to your collection. ‘ So much so usual. Still good though. What's new is a spooky androgenous vocal track from Lou Reed's mate Jimmy Scott. Oh yeah, and Badalamenti does a couple of "aren't I weird" spoken tracks — the sort of thing Peak's freaks adore and the rest of us ignore. Neat sleeve photo of Laura Palmer though. PETER THOMSON > TELEVISION Television (EMI) It's a tribute to Television's continuing relevance and the legacy created by their two classic studio albums, Marquee Moon and Adventure that any sense of excitement and anticipation Could be created ,by their reformation. If Mott . The Hoople tried to reform we'd all be laughing up our sleeves but Television's music has a timeless quality that set them apart in their 19 70s heyday. In the fourteen intervening years since they split, front man Tom Verlaine has had a chequered solo career, bouncing from record label to record label. Now he's home to roost with his old band and when the guitar intro to the opening track ' 1800 Or So' rings out, it's like they've never been away. Somehow everything gels and the distinctive intertwining twin guitar sound of Television is with us again. The next two tracks, 'Shane, She Wrote This' and 'ln World' maintain the flow, superbly. Richard Lloyd pulling a trademark guitar solo from his bag of tricks for Tn World'.

Sounding like a great undiscovered out-take from Marquee Moon, 'Call Mr Lee' is up next. This tale of cold-war mischief can reach out and send shivers down your spine, through the ferocious guitar work of Lloyd and Verlaine. It's damn near impossible to top and anything is going to be a let down after that, 'Rhyme' being a typical piece of Verlaine whimsey. Side Two can't quite maintain the heady momemtum of that open-

ing brace of songs, although 'No Glamour For Willi' and 'Beauty Trip' rock along purposefully, while the sound collage 'Rocket' features some interesting cut-up vocals. The album draws to a rather strangulated close on ‘Mars' with Verlaine singing as if he's gargling razor blades. Television were the best twoguitar band of the seventies. If Verlaine can rid himself of his "gee shucks" lyrical tendencies and write more songs of the calibre of 'Call Mr Lee' and 'Beauty Trip', then they could reclaim that title for the nineties. MARTIN BELL CRUEL SEA This Is Not The Way Home THE LOW ROAD Beasts of Bourbon (Red Eye Records) I gotta big car — a fast car. We're gonna take a ride. A drive through bleak and bastard country. With us, the Cruel Sea's This Is Not The Way Home and the Beasts of Bourbon's The Low Road. Perfect. Both recordings share some common ground. Originating close to home in Aus-

tralia on Red Eye Records they've taken their time to reach the Shakey Isles. Tony Cohen, noted for his work with Nick Cave and more recently for the Straitjacket Fits, has taken the production credits, with the bands themselves co-producing. Then there's Tex Perkins, frontman for both bands. With Kim Salmon for the Beasts and Dan Rumour for the Cruel Sea, Tex has penned half the tunes.

Can he sing? Hell yes. This voice is anything but smooth, packed with gristle and groan, yet expressive and explosive. I like this man. He knows how to tell a story even when it isn't his own. eg Beefheart's 'Sure 'Nuff' on This Is Not The Way Home and the Jagger/ Richards composition 'Cocksucker Blues' on The Low Road.

Musically they use the same instrumentation; guitars, keyboards, bass and real drums, yet come up with two contrasting sounds. This Is Not The Way Home is clean. Imagine a full, crisp, very live sound. It has a country feel but with a bent. The guitars all vibrato and whammy bar, the keyboards Forfisa on 45, filling out an already lardy mid-range. Plenty of tops though. The bass and drums swing the thing along like some lead pendulum. The band shows off too, with four instrumentals. I liked up-tempo number 'Fangin' Hoons' reminiscent of 'Radar Love' and final track 'High Plains Drifter' which had dub elements and whistling!

Vocal standouts are the title track, the lover's litany of 'Cry For Me' and sound advice for life 'Don't Sell It'.

Let's hit the low road. This is the Beasts of Bourbon in better than kick-ass form. One track even has a social conscience, the slow groove of 'There's A Virus Goin' Round'. Though mostly it's solid rock themes; sex — 'Just Right' and 'Straight, Hard and Long', drugs — 'Chase The Dragon' and desperation — 'The Low Road', 'Can't Say No' and 'Something To Lean On'. Overall the third testament from one helluva hard working band. It makes compelling listening for its fine guitar work and no crap approach. I think we need to gas up. BARBIE

ROGER WATERS Amused To Death (Columbia) War, strange narratives, dogs barking and more songs about war . . . that's right Roger Waters has an-

other album out. Ther main theme seems to be how the ugly reality of modern combat can be transmitted into people’s living rooms as mass entertainment. Songs are linked together by the switching of TV channels and other tricks so all in all it sounds like another piece of The Wall, especially so on 'The Bravery of Being Out OF Range' and the title track. The lyrics are thought provoking as ever but are so bleak that you wonder when old Rog is going to lighten up a bit. Most of the 14 conceptual pieces are suitably slow though things do kick in for 'What God Wants, Parts 1,2 and 3' and some tasty solo guitar work supplied by Mr Jeff Beck. There's continual intentional references back to Pink Floyd material ('Animals', ‘Echoes’ etc) and the entire recording was mixed using a new audio technology called Q sound so if nothing else you can always use parts of it to test your stereo. Amused To Death may have some of us dying of boredom but Waters die-hards are going to love it to death. GEOFF DUNN MEGA CITY FOUR Sebastopol Road (Polygram) Mega City Four are hopelessly average. They're your archetypal Brit guitar pop four piece that've been lumped into the shoegazing mould but really have little in common with their distortion fixated contemporaries. This is their third album, better produced than the two previous, but it boils down to shameless pop that's only momentarily appealing. 'Callous' shines, as does the distinctly Beagle-esque 'Anne Bancroft' (a song about the woman from The Graduate). Ticket Collector' manages to glimmer vaguely but the majority of the tracks drown in mediocrity. MC4's heady tempo and Wiz's vocals are monolithic and unchanging throughout. Wiz moans poetically about the numerous emotional crises which threaten him daily. He takes on life's big issues and ends up depressed and confused with no answers.

Sebastopol Rd is pleasurably hummable but that's all. It has no extremes of highs or lows and subsequently contains little that would inspire you to listen again. TONY MILLER

BLACK SABBATH Dehumanizer (EMI) So the Dio band bit the dust and whadda ya know, Ronnie James and

Vinnie Appice end up with Black Sabbath again. The good news is that Dehumanizer is better than the last few albums though that in itself is not a difficult feat. The bad news is it sounds exactly like you would expect it to (ie like Mob Rules with nineties production — but not as good).

There are some worthwhile tracks like 'Time Machine' and 'TV Crimes' but mostly this is just Sabbath retracing their old plodding footstomps. They're already in the studio recording the follow-up so hopefully they've had enough time to come up with something a bit more imaginative. Meanwhile, dig out those early classics with Ozzy on 'em and rediscover heavy music that is also a lot of fun to listen to. GEOFF DUNN PETER GABRIEL Us (Realworld) Artists like Peter Gabriel don't appear on this earth very frequently and when he actually makes some material available, it's worth savouring every second. There was the dramatic Passion (soundtrack to The Last Temptation of Christ) a couple of years ago but it was 1986 when we last had a proper vocal release from Gabriel. So easily becamse the most commercially successful album of his career and a series of benefit concerts in the cause of humanity took his profile even higher. Gabriel's involvement with his own Realworld projects uniting people and the arts probably had something to do with the lengthy gestation of Us but most likely it was because he's such a perfectionist. The finished product is true to form and much of it is about the different relationships in his life. 'Come Talk To Me' has many ethnic ingredients including African rhythms and chants, bagpipes and even a doudouk! It sets the tone of the album nicely with the first of three duets featuring Sinead O'Connor. The soft and subtle 'Love To Be Loved' revolves around a gradually building bassline and amongst the heartfelt words there's a flashback to 'Family Snapshot' from Peter Gabriel 3 ('lve Been Here Before'). The next song 'Blood of Eden' is the one that will really break Us to huge appeal as it is carried beautifully with Gabriel's own unique singing style. The music has an earthy feel and symbolises the beginning of man and woman in the Garden of Eden.

'Steam' ups the pace into a quirky dance beat while 'Only Us' is an atmospheric piece with weird background sounds and wonderful wandering bass work from Tony Levin. The simplistic 'Washing of the Water' is mainly piano and voice and followed by the now familiar 'Digging In The Dirt' which has a typically brilliant video directed by John Downer who also did the amazing Life Sense TV nature series.

Listeners can form their own images for 'l4 Black Paintings' as it is mostly instrumental and is highlighted by Led Zeppelin man John Paul Jones on surdu, bass and keyboards Qones has been very busy recently also assisting Eno, REM and Butthole Surfers!). ‘Kiss That Frog’ demonstrates Gabriel's bizarre sense of humour with his witty lyrics set to a steady beat and added harmonica. In the past he's dealt with giant hogweeds, lawnmowers and Slippermen but in this case he's relating fairytale frogs to finding the perfect partner. The record is rounded out smoothly with 'Secret World’ and even after many repeated listenings it seems there is still much more about Us yet to be discovered. GEOFF DUNN PUBLIC ENEMY Greatest Misses (Def Jam/ Sony) 1992, LA burns, three shades of white conservatism fight over the redneck vote in the presidential election, and the Enemy get funky! Yeah I know the official line is that they

always were, but on this “non album" of six new tracks and six (radical) remixes the approach is often less 'Bring The Noise' than 'Bump and grind/ mess with your mind'. Nothing here swaggers quite as exuberantly as 'By The Time I Get To Arizona', but running through the new stuff is an absolute confidence in the PE world domination enterprise, a feeling that they don't have to purify us with strong information (as JF Lyotard notes, a species of noise) any more because we know they're invincible. The riots may be an(other) ugly face of new and old right economic terrorism, but at the same time they're a refusal to act on governor Pete "Über Alles" Wilson’s terms (“self improvement", surf and sun) and they prove Chuck D's "extreme" social diagnoses right). So the Bomb Squad slow down the beats, throw some jazzy chords and drum fills or an obscenely sinuous bassline (check out the total overhaul of 'Party For Your Right To Fight') into the mix, and the snippets of paranoid media propaganda between songs aren't so much pulverized as swept away, utterly belittled by the sound's triumphant force.

None of which means Public Enemy have turned into Dream Warriors overnight. For a start there are still outbursts of their old apolcalyptic brutality: 'Who Stole The Soul' is actually accelerated and the primitive hip-hop dynamics of 'You're Gonna Get Yours' are exaggerated till it feels like the scratch-

ing will cut' up the listener's body. Anyway, the looser and funkier they get, the more dramatic is the tension between the music and the deadly seriousness of the voice, the text and the intent. In other words no-one else in the world could get away with it, so don't even try. MATTHEW HYLAND MY LIFE WITH THE THRILL KILL KULT Sexplosion! (Warners) ~- . It •- was inevitable , that industrial music would hybridise to influence seemingly contrasting musical genres. T rent Rezndr attacked the mainstream charts with Nine Inch Nails, the Disposable Heroes of .Hiphopracy crossed over grating machine shop samples with hip hop. The Thrill Kill Cult have brought forth a stranger lovechild altogether: industrial disco. Formerly dark, pseudo satanic KMFDM and Skinny Puppy style Armageddon merchants, the TKK's lyrics now examine more penetrative themes of leather bathed bondage and vaselined morality. ' • '

The same hardcore bass beats are there but this time buried beneath foppish layers of discofunk and hedonistic Cramps-ey liberalism. Their stylistic shift to perversion has also necessitated the growth on stage to a nine-piece including dancers, a barman and a Caron Wheeler-type woman that performs the cliched yet seemingly obligatory sexual moans. The result is genetallic, glitzy

decadence that betrays the TKK roots, Bachanalian disco pop vocals and orgasmicly danceable bass grooves that work on 'Mood Number 6' and 'Martini Built For Two' but otherwise sound sadly like ' a Kon Kan tribute or an off-key Mantronix varient. . It's unclear whether the TKK were bored of being deep and deathlike or if they just ran out of ways to sound nasty so turned to perversion instead. But frankly they've missed the sexual revolution and the fetishes they've found have all been explored before. It's almost sad. - ' — < TONY MILLER JULIAN COPE AND TEARDROP EXPLODES Floored Genius: The Best Of (Island) ORANGE JUICE The Very Best of (Polydor) Two misfits coughed up by the punk upheaval, both Cope and Edwyn Collins tried in their own unique way to make something articulate and provocative out of the postpunk blandness that was engulfing the early eighties. ; ‘ Dubbed as one of the Big Three, a minor Liverpool resurgence that centred around Wah! Heat, Echo and the Bunnymen and the Teardrop Explodes. Cope was never less than precocious, often eloquent and incongrous in his ambition to be a pop star that took risks, sounded like a cross between the Walker Brothers and Bowie and occasion-

ally fell on his arse. Floored Genius finds him mainly on his feet as it takes an informed tour through Cope's ten albums. Teardrop Explodes' classics like 'Reward' and 'Treason' still sound ageless as does the unsettling ballad 'The Great Dominions'. In solo terms Cope has always wavered towards cult status, a contradictory state for an artist wanting due recognition for the undoubted splendour of songs like 'An Elegant Chaos’, 'Charlotte Anne' and the guitar crazy 'Safesurfer' from last year's Peggy Suicide album.

Cope's readiness to fall on his derriere has ensured that he's avoided formula and sustained vitality. Floored Genius is the ideal introduction to Cope and his desires.

Orange Juice were the darlings of Scotland's Postcard label, an in-

dependent outlet for young bands smitten by the adventurous exploits of the Velvet Underground. Edwyn Collins, the brains behind Orange Juice and the compiler of this twenty-two track overview, had a charming drone and the nerve to use it on soul standards like Al Green's 'L.O. V.E.' and the Four Top's 'I Can't Help Myself’. Let's just say he didn't better the originals. Collins' genius was in his ability to create awkward but breathless pop out of his adenoidal vocals and gangly, jangling guitars. The end product is a flawed charm, an imperfect pop that has character, presence, wit and beauty that avoids polish and predictability. Orange Juice were never better than on their first album You Can't Hide Your Love Forever with 'Falling and Laughing' summing up their philosophy and 'Consolation Prize', 'ln Nutshell' and

'Felicity' remain irresistably literate Pop.

Rip It Up and the mini-EP Texas Fever weren't in the same class but the final Third Album was a fine swansong with songs like 'Lean Period' and 'I Guess I'm A Little Too Sensitive' equalling his best. And even though the punkish brilliance of 'Blue Boy' is mysteriously not included, this compilation justifies Collins' "esteemed" sub-title. - GEORGE KAY CJ CHENIER , I Ain’t No Playboy (Slash) CJ is Clifton's son. The late Clifton Chenier was known as the king of zydeco and generally regarded as the inventor of a style of blues dance music based on Arcadian (French folk) tradition blended with black rhythm and blues that Chenier Snr developed into a unique style in the 60s. This spirited sound is based around the accordian as lead instrument, but hey, don't let that put you off. This is different territory to Lawrence Welk's pap or polka. Zydeco is from Louisiana, initially rural based roots music, spirited, hop til you drop entertainment. CJ being second generation has infused contemporary r'n'b (more rock orientated) with his father's roots sound to create shit kicking rock and roll with a zydeco base. The purists might not approve (the lyrics are sung in English not French as in the traditional) but his set is crisp and it sure : swings. The accordian is up front shared at times with rollicking guitar and footstomping rhythms. There's not too mucch two step or waltz left here but CJ is taking the style one step further and into the 90s. Producer Joe Hardy (with credits of ZZ Top and Steve Earle) has CJ rocking; hard but retaining the backbeat and counterrhythms of the washboard. The title track 'Ain't No Playboy' based on drums, 'board, slide guitar, accordian and strong lead vocals typifies the crossover. If you thought Wayne Toups could swing then check this guy out. A good record to party to but make sure you have a few cold ones handy 'cause this sure is thirsty work. . JOHN PILLEY DAVE HOLE Short Fuse Blues (Festival) Question: what do you call an Aus-

tralian who after twenty years as a working musician releases his debut self-funded album and within months is picked up by Alligator Records in the States and Festival in Australasia? Answer: Dave Hole. Never heard of him huh, well you soon will. Guitar Player magazine called him "Australia’s best kept blues secret". Gary Moore asked him to open his recent European tour and audiences in western Australia have been treated with his live shows that are reflected in this straight ahead no frills blues rock recording. The only embellishments are horns on one track and the occasional touch of keyboards.

The title track 'Short Fuse Blues' sums up Hole in title and style. Ferocious slide guitar over a tight and tidy backing of bass (John Wilson) and drums (Ron Parker) with Hole's vocals raw and ranging from growl to scream using the emotion of the lyrics to drive his voice. It's the guitar that stands out and stuns the ears with screaming slide runs and seemingly effortless licks that run through a history of guitar sytles from T Bone and the Kings (88, Albert and Freddie) through Hendrix (Jimi) to the final instrumental 'Dark Was The Night' in a Ry Cooder vein. However, as soon as you pin down one influence Hole throws a curve and reels off in another direction. Challenging and exciting aural treats for fans of the electric guitar.

■ Hole even breaths new life into a couple of dinosaurs. 'Purple Haze' and 'Albatross' replacing Hendrix's flashy fret work with dynamic slide and sustain and he turns F Mac into almost a Shadows stylised sound. Do we really need another version of these classics? Well, Hole can be forgiven because of his startling inventiveness in technique and that the set runs for over sixty minutes with eight of the sixteen tracks penned by the guitarist. A very busy, well paced album that will leave you exhausted but wanting more. Put on repeat. ' ’ JOHN PILLEY MIRANDA SEX GARDEN Iris (Mute) This is almost as unhip as it's possible to get, which at a time when "hip" means lame, bearded slapbass cock-rock (no, I don't care how slow-moving a target Soundgarden are) must be a good thing. Miranda Sex Garden used to be three female madrigal singers, now they're three females and two boys playing bass and organ and machines and singing madrigal-like drones with spectacularly hideous lyrics ("Yet somewhere in me I hear you cry/ Crying crystal tears" counts as a crime against humanity in my book). It's all at least as excessive as, say, Queen or Right Said Fred, and, as it sounds by turns like (the outrageuosly un-der-rated) Skin and the trial of Liz Cocteau Twin for witchcraft, it's about five thousand times as seductive (especially for ex or practising

Goths, about 87 per cent of the "alternative" population at last count, higher in exclusive student radio circles).

Incidentally the press release compares them to Tim Buckley and Buffy Saint-Marie. This is a brazen lie because Miranda Sex Garden are not dead and have never appeared in Sesame Street. MATTHEW HYLAND MCS High Time (Rhino/ Atlantic) Reissue on CD of the third, last) least-known, least-popular and (I'm gonna argue) best album by this traditionally lied-about combo . . . you can read the history elsewhere (please) but briefly, you got album #l, 'Kick Out The Jams' the live-in-Detroit-Hallowe'en-1968 "invention of heavy metal" number (tho' actually completely antithetical to the techno-precision of HM-to-come in its squalling anarchismus, thus widely touted as "free jazz" — a

dubious call at best), #2 'Back in The USA’ (1970) which was a clean-up-and-sell-out attempt that failed (commercially that is ...'s actually a fucking fine rock n'roll album tho' I remember not thinking so when I first heard it... a reaction I'm sure many shared), and #3, this, long unavailable except in Germany or somewhere and seldom even accorded the cult-obj. status its predecessors have reaped in spades (posthumously o'course). Chuck Eddy, in his Stairway To Hell, hints at why this is when he concludes that it "sacrifices some of the categorical imperative" of the preceding two but really, 20-something years after the fact it hardly behooves one to even think about what that means. So OK, consider it purely as music and you gotta consider (a) they were playing more cohesively than on 'Kick Out The Jams', without losing their grip on said platter's energynoise conduit and (b) the songs're as good as those on 'Back In The USA' but without the urinous gloss of Jon Landau’s production of same. Like f'r inst 'Sister Ann', seven mins of relentless churn-riffage coda'd with some kinda honky Al Ayler funeral march, that coulda been on the Ist album and it just woulda sounded the same as everything else instead of being the real-McCoy "classic rock anthem" it is here, or 'Over and Over', that coulda been on the 2nd one but you can bet it woulda turned out sounding like the Monkees, and it's a "classic rock anthem" too. Best song, probably — 'Skunk (Sonically Speaking)' which relates 'Wipeout' type surf instrumentals to Varese's 'lonisation' within the first ten seconds and does better free-jass-rock stuff than anything on Kick Out The Jams ... worst song, 'Miss X', ponderous and flaccid but that's only one bad song per album, even Led Zep's 4th has got one, right? Other cool stuff

—- the instrumental credits which list such great-sounding objects as wizzer, mirachees, rockas, ka, acme

scraper and reen, and the original liner notes (which unforch. , you'd need a microscope to read in the CD booklet) (probably 1 st-ever mention of JG Ballard in rock liner notes, big deal)... and oh yeah, CD bookletliner notes by Dave Marsh (take 'em with a pinch of salt), photos you never seen before, etc. Too bad I haven't got a CD player.. DUANE ZARAKOV . -i ■ ■ ■... ■ LIL ED AND THE BLUES IMPERIALS What You See Is What You Get (Alligator) This is Lil Ed (Williams') third album for Alligator as the hotly tipped successor of Hound Dog Taylor's 'houserockin' blues. The style is searing slide guitar over a tight boogie bar room Chicago feel that originated with Muddy Waters when he moved north from Mississippi in the 40s and influenced by the guitar of Elmorejames and latterlyJß Hutto from whom Lil Ed learned guitar from age 15. The 90s sound is true to its roots, high energy houserocking blues played . by a solid jumping band who in ten years have moved from day jobs at the car wash to touring throughout the world spreading the good blues word. Lil Ed has followed JB Butto's tendency for long stretches born of live playing (JB was known for his four to six songs a side albums when records were still being pressed) and Ed is using the extra length available on CD to run six of the 14 songs at over five minutes but there is no padding here. The Blues Imperials are a road tightened band from play-

ing over 300 gigs a year and What You See Is What You Gethas a hot live feel that gave Hound Dog Taylor and the Houserockers their energy and pumping passionate style. As well as the scorching hoedown boogies the band drop with ease to slow songs such as 'Living For Today' that offers seven minutes of sweet soaring blues with Ed alternately picking and sliding his way up and down your spine. Chilling stuff from the new generation of slide when most contemporary guitarists tend to pick and develop their technique with fingers on the neck (or at least their feet!). To my ears the only other current slide guitarist to match Ed is southern white boy John Mooney. Lil Ed's strong authoritative vocals can wail with the best (reminding of Otis Rush or Albert King), or talk his way (John Lee Hooker) through lyrics that break no new ground but evocatively tell it like it is, complete with a sense of fun and an impish ear to ear grin. Whether you've come to the blues through Muddy Waters or Led Zep this set will get your toes tapping, the heart racing and put a smile on your dial. Top marks also for the great cover 'cause what you see is what you get. Bussin'. JOHN PILLEY LEVITATION Need For Not (Rough Trade/ Festival) Levitation are filthy hippies. OK so I'm the last person alive to use the word as an insult on a regular basis, but they really are the genuine arti-

cle: they believe that peace and harmony would drive poverty, disease and the general inevitable misery of being human from the face of the earth if only we'd all consume the "spiritual values" the culture industry has been trying to sell us ever since religion lost its market value. So they inform us that "only the human condition could be so out of touch" because we're "living against nature”. Did I mention that they were bloody puritans? Having got mere matters of life and death out of the way, I can tell you that they feature the guitar playing of Tery Bickers, he who gave the pedestrian pop tunes of the first House of Love album their undeserved radiance. Perhaps he's now reacting against that kind of suffocating "concision" because Levitation quite admirably refuse to play anything shorter than five minutes or with fewer than three hundred different intertwined parts. So crystalline Sylvianesque bits are drowned in Teardrop Explodes melodic purity or Bickers guitar bedazzlement or stuttering powerchords or mock-Arabian keyboard spirals pretty much every minute of every song. Which would make them almost awesome if it wasn't for the aforementioned New Age noxiousness and the fact that the absolute cleanness and technical precision of every note, every echo (there are a lot of echoes) gives the whole thing an air of fascistic muso self-display, and more importantly, kills much of the drama of the arrangements: although there's

endless variation of melody and tone colour (curiously not of rhythm), there's only one texture: smooth as a varnished baby's bottom. MATTHEW HYLAND THE TELESCOPES (Rough Trade) The Telescopes were one of the promising bands to emerge late in 1989 on the Creation label along with Ride and Slowdive after the revolution started by My Bloody Valentine. The Telescopes once had a curiously bizarre sound that was pure indie. Drawing from the Velvet Underground and adding dance sensibilities under a narcotic reverb driven guitar fuzz wall provided interesting listening. Sadly, only a glimpse of that remains on this album, the most notable being 'Flying' and its remixed B-side 'High On Fire'. Of the new direction songs, 'You Set My Soul' has to be the best with its jazz influences creeping in around the lazily stroked guitar utterances and Stephen Lawrie's simpering whines. Although still a relatively new band, the Telescopes seem all too tired and bored. The songs seem repetitive, and unlike Levitation they don't seem to have the foresight for new and better things. The Telescopes true talent can be seen on their first three EPs. RHYS BONNEY COOL WORLD Soundtrack (Warner Bros) Apart from grunge, the big move in '92 has been alternative dance music. And as astounding as it may sound, the soundtrack to Cool World (a sort of Roger Rabbit with Kim Bassinger and Brad Pitt!) sums up the breakthrough of techno, industrial and electro in one go. You've only got to look at the line-up for its credentials. Future Sound of London donate 'Papau New Guinea' (which was always destined to be a soundtrack). Ministry's industrial hardcore makes an appearance with their usual howling claxns and pounding power riffs. Moby kicks in the techno sub-sonics with the telling 'Next Is The E'. And fittingly enough Brian Eno flips out with a stealthy number called 'Under'. Not all of the artists involved are usually dancey (and yes I'm sure the words 'wagon' and 'band' have something to do with it). Bowie tries to sell his soul (again) on the title track. 'The Witch' sees producer Rick Rubin experimenting with the Cult — dragging them into the decade of distorted vocals and drum loops. Even some of the members of consolidated have a techno number — under the pseudonym 'Mindless'. It's patchy in places (and there's nowhere near enough time to complain about Thrill Kill Kult, Thompson Twins or the disappointing new Electronic single) but that in itself is pretty indicative of the year. If you've ever had a dance bone in your body you should (excuse the cliche) check this out.

JOHN TAITE

PAUL WELLER Paul Weller (Go! Discs) There’s always been a general feeling that Weller would’ve been wiser taking the Jam further into the eighties before he dropped the band for the sidewalk soul of the Style Council. With that change he’d not only shed his connection with his formative punk/ rock n’roll phase but also the considerable grassroots audience that went with it. The transition to the AOR and political subtleties were too radical and affected for even the most understanding Jam fan and despite mesmerising stuff like 'Long Hot Summer’ and most of the Our Favourite Shop album,'Weller and Talbot drifted to disposability with Polydor rejecting their fifth album. So riding out a crisis in confidence Weller has returned with his first solo album, a low key soul-searching affair that embraces his talents as a craftsman with the ability to borrow from the best and yet make it his own. The single ‘Uh-Huh-Oh-Yeh’ is Peppers period Beatles minus the lavish trappings and maybe ‘Bull-Rush’ owes something to Steve Winwood and ‘Clues’ to Van Morrison, but who’s counting? The guts of the album is Weller sounding like good Style Council and without their daft name. The Talbot assisted ‘The Strange Museum’ is somewhere between ‘Butterfly Collectors’ and ‘Long Hot Summer’ but not quite as good as either. How could it be? ‘Round and Round’ and ‘Above the Clouds’ recreate that gossamer soul that almost justified the Jam’s demise and his first solo single ‘lnto Tomorrow’ lights a little guitar fire. Paul Weller is an earnest, dedicated and mostly successful return to selfconfidence. It’s not in-yer-face or even twelve different versions of ‘Eton Rifles’, it’s Paul Weller wrenching the best he can from a scene that has mistakenly rendered him redundent. This ain’t All Mod Cons but it’ll do for now. GEORGE KAY