NEW ZEALAND

Rip It Up, Issue 191, 1 June 1993, Page 24

NEW ZEALAND

THE BATS

Courage (Flying Nun) The main thing about the Bats, for me, is what a good guy Robert Scott is. Just hearing his voice reminds me that maybe, somewhere, there's still some decency and humility left in the world, although 'Courage' actually reminds me of a Martin Phillipps song, only more melodically sure-footed and rhythmically driven. A pleasing number from a band that can wash right by you on a wave of goodwill. Also on the CD, 'Mind How You Run' (innocuous jingle-jangle); 'Slow Alight' (a real charmer); and 'The Wind Is Sad'. As the childish title suggests, another adults-in-toyland excursion, the trademark Bats schtick. They may be world travellers but the Bats in song are always gonna sound like innocents abroad. DONNA YUZWALK THE NIXONS House of Flowers (Pagan) Sort of an alternative rock soft-shoe shuffle - high register guitar (nothing macho going on here thankyou very much) and the line "In the house of flowers" repeated over-much, as is "Sometimes I think" on the B-side of the same name. Repetition which suggests that maybe the Nixons aren't thinking enough about how to impact on their listeners. DONNA YUZWALK SHIHAD I Only Said (Wildside) Three cuts of unremitting heaviness from Wellington's Shihad who have forsaken their speed/ metal roots to adopt a more industrial guitar sound (John Toogood's riffs sound like a Black and Decker power drill at full throttle instead of James Hetfield circa And Justice For All). He sings like a man much older and heavier (in both senses of the word) than he looks, while the band give it their all in the background. The effect is overpowering, difficult, a little repetitious and sometimes like an ultra-awesome backing track in search of a melody, but undeniably a real power trip from a band that is still, like, SO YOUNG! DONNA YUZWALK FACE (Joy Records) Face, formerly Obscured, have been around for a while now churning out their own brand of American influenced melodic hardcore. This self-financed EP follows in the footsteps of locals Drinkwater, who have also recently releaesd a well packaged, well produced cassette. Face draw musical influence from the Suicidal Tendencies camp, but temper the negativity of that group with refreshingly interesting lyrics, particularly on 'Boat'. This articulation is probably the gift of a higher power, which makes the last track, a bizarre back-masked, affair called 'Hollywood' even more amusing.

Having seen this group livea number of times it's obvious thatthey can deliver the goods. The production is a little too reverbed for my liking but that is a very minor point. More power to those releasing these excellent debut cassettes, the trend is a positive one. LUKE CASEY

NEW ORDER Republic (London) "I'm very pleased with now it's turned out but it's been like pushing a car with the fucking hand brake on", said Barney Sumner about the making of Republic. Metaphorically the car has been the less than harmonious conditions the record was recorded in, what with the dissolution of Factory, various members recovering from drug abuse and grinding lengthy studio sessions.

Their first studio album since 1989's Technique, the gap gave them time to get away from each other to indulge in things like Hock's Revenge, Sumner's shares in Electronic and Morris and Gilbert's The Other Two. The four years apart, Hague's production and the tension and turbulance during the recording are possibly responsible for the melancholy that pervades Republic more so than on any other New Order album.

The dancetronics are still there like the muted shuffle of their single 'Regret' or on the grumbling 'Chemical', but the brilliant moments belong to powerfully poignant songs like 'Times Change' (which has Sumner trying a rap delivery in the verses), the brooding greatness of 'Ruined In A Day' or the final, beautiful gloominess of 'Special' and 'Avalanche'. The best New Order album? Dance purists won't think so but it would've been inappropriate, given the recording circumstances, for the band to inject any artifical optimism into Republic. As it is they've pulled off a brilliant coup and ensured their place in the English psyche alongside Morrissey, Gazza, the Stones and the Queen Mum. GEORGE KAY

WENDY JAMES Now Aint' The Time For Your Tears

(MCA) The story goes that Ms James, feeling somewhat down about the state of Transvision Vamp, wrote a letter to Elvis Costello asking for help. He could have given her advice or even an old song to Cover. Instead, and with some help from wife Cait O'Riordan, Costello dashed off ten new numbers over the space of a weekend. All of which has its pros and cons. • . ■;.

while frequently below Costello's best, are nonetheless considerably more interesting than you'd have got with James writing. There's also the fact that their being purposewritten allowed Costello to comment several times on James' blondeambition public persona. 'Puppet Girl' and 'Fill In The Blanks' are particularly scathing and James relishes their delivery. However the speed of writing shows up most in the quality of tunes. The album begins very appealingly with a couple of tracks that recall all the snap and spleen of Costello circa This Year's Model. (James's tight little band is kicked along by ex-Attraction Pete Thomas on drums). 'London’s Brilliant', in particular, is as smart and satirical as Costello has shown himself in years. There follows one of his wonderfully eccentric ballads, 'Basement Kiss', which unfortunately also serves to highlight James's vocal limitations. And that's about the end of the good stuff really. (Well how many decent songs do you expect from one weekend's work?). Better than the last Transvision Vamp album but hardly a major step forward for the singer — or the songwriter. PETER THOMSON GRANT LEE BUFFALO Fuzzy (Slash) ANTENNA Hideout (Mammoth) So what's happening Stateside for non-grunge lovers who like their white rackets lean, mean and melodic? Well, not much other than Sugar and it's Bob Mould that points the direction to possible contenders Grant Lee Buffalo, an LA three piece fronted by Grant Lee Phillips who recorded a version of Fuzzy on Mould's own SOL label.

This debut has already been hailed by Rolling Stone as the debut album to beat this year—big claims but there's no doubt that right from the acoustic slap of the opener 'The Shining Hour' this particular beast will carve a permanent niche somewhere between the Waterboys, the Violent Femmes and the Gun Club. The single 'Fuzzy' justifies Mould's confidence with its cryptic pain while 'Wish You Well' is the most direct guitar band treatment over a

On the one hand, the lyrics,

SUGAR Beaster (White Records) A six-track conceptual mini-album, Beaster seems an unlikely followup to Sugar's debut album Copper Blue. Whereas Copper Blue was chockfull of great left-field guitar ditties with plenty of pop choruses, Beaster presents itself as a far more intense and sinister affair. Sugar main man Bob Mould continues to display an unerring ear for a great melody but rather than piling them on thick and fast Copper Blue style, he draws them out to epic, hypnotic proportions and slams them into your skull with piledriver guitars. The vocals are mixed way back, allowing Mould's multitracked guitars to run riot and indulge in a serious feedback fest. In fact, this approach is closer to Mould’s Black Sheets of Rain, but Beaster is far more focussed, avoiding that album's tendency to flail about in an aimless rage. As far as concept albums go, the continuity is fairly oblique, but there's an obvious religious thread running through Beaster's 31 minutes. There are elements of confessional from 'JC Auto' and exorcising personal demons on 'Tilted'. Along the way 'JC Auto' nicks the melody from Mould's own 'Poison Years', however the redemptive qualities of the final refrain make powerful amends. Mould spits out the lyrics "Look like Jesus Christ/ Act like Jesus Christ I know/ Here's your Jesus Christ/ I'm your Jesus Christ I know ..."

Remember, this is the critic's new Messiah speaking. Maybe Bob does read his own press. MARTIN BELL

lyric that crucifies society, an approach shared by the antipathy of 'America Snoring'. On the sultry 'Dixie Drug Store' Phillips takes a narrative angle and on 'Stars'n'Stripes' his falsetto strains at a lyric that’s an evocative comparison of love and the decaying American dream. So this is a simmering, powerful album that doesn't need a sonic guitar army to announce the arrival of a mighty fine songwriter.

Hideout is Antenna's second album and although at face value they look like another mid-western guitar band, Strohm's fear of cliches steers the band to left field of REM. The John Coltrane sample closing 'Rust' and the terse guitar meshings of 'Wall Paper' and 'Shine' show the band's imaginative, uncommercial designs. Investigate. > . GEORGE KAY MORRISEY Beethoven Was Deaf r a.y (EMI) When Mozz toured these parts he had real troubles. Not the usual bar-

Antenna's John Strohm isn't quite in the same class but like Phillips he's an enigma, an outsider working on the Tinges of rock 'roll.

rage of diffident traumas (though he probably had those as well), the real trouble was with his backing band of rockabillies who stumbled through the favourites like a tenth rate covers outfit.

Then came the slick, confident comeback album of Your Arsenal _

which, astonishingly, was the product of working with this new band of his. Now there's Beethoven Was Deaf— a live album which proves at least Morrissey's band troubles must be lifting. There isn't any Kill Uncle or Viva Hate (apart from 'Suedehead') material in this live set. It's probably no great loss seeing as the handful of Bona Drag tracks and b-sides ('Sister I'm a Poet', 'Such a little thing', 'He Knows', 'November') still suffer the uncomfortable, cringeworthy band treatment.lt's when Mozz and his rockabillies rustle up songs from Your Arsenal (and those b-sides) that they conjure some magic. 'Jack the Ripper', 'Glamorous Glue' and 'Your Gonna Need Someone' all sound far better outside the studio and the romps of 'Certain People I Know', 'Fatty' and 'Successful' all sound appropriately 'up'. And even when you imagine the thousands of teary, froggy fanatics waving their daffodils, the slower tracks still retain an amount of poignancy. So, the recording is great (with a minimum of crowd interference), the band is in better form and Morrissey does what Morrissey does. What else do you need to hear? JOHN TAITE

THE STARLINGS Valid (Anxious) I suppose it was inevitable that the man who was responsible for the Exponents stranger moments, like 'Sex' and 'Agriculture', would eventually end up doing his own thing, and so it goes with Chris Sheehan who went to England with Jordan and the boys but left when he realised he'd be better off on his own.

Of course that was the right decision and Sheehan has made a debut album which is as interesting as it is varied. We get a run through the rough times when Sheehan was a drug addict in London but he also takes us on a journey where the music is simple and stark then noisy and complicated. The single 'That's It You're In Trouble' and 'Start Again' are fine examples of stories told over a dance back-beat.

Sheehan isn't afraid to genrehop as parts of 'Now Take That' are almost industrial and 'Bad Dad' is almost American grunge guitar thrash. There are also amusing moments like in 'Right School' where Sheehan pokes fun at some former Starlings who ended up in the Jesus and Mary Chain. There is even some feedback for authenticity. 'Shoot Up Hill' is about the place in Kilburn, North London, where he used to score drugs and it certainly has an eerie charm. Not everything works on this album but it's a very good start and Sheehan promises the next one will be even better. ALISTER CAIN ATOMIC SWING A Car Crash In the Blue (Sonet) It’s official — the 1970 s are back — from fey Bowie/ Bolan angst to disco and beyond. Sweden's Atomic Swing have dived headfirst into the decade that taste forgot and come up with a myriad grab-bag of musical, influences and a nice line in bell bottomed hipsters on their album A Car Crash In The Blue. Musically the songs range from the Stonesy riffing of opening track 'Panicourgh City' through the jazzy strains of 'Carnival Stall' to the guitar pop of 'Smile'. Along the way they revisit a few Doorsy keyboard grooves and are not above ridiculous 70s lyrical pretensions, as in the absurd 'Mosquitos on Mars?'

Lead Swinger Niclas Frisk's vocals are sometimes gratingly affected — sounding not unlike a Sweddish Howard Devoto. Like fellow Scandinavian popsters ABBA, Frish has an interesting line in pronunciation, f'rinstance "eyes" becomes "ice". Still, Martin Phillipps would probably pronounce it "oise" so far be it from me to take the piss out of regional pronunciations. With its big hummable riffing and occasional cool jazzy licks Atomic Swing have succeeded in cross-pollinating a variety of influ-

ences to create something rather unique. As long as you don't think "pop" is a dirty word, you should have a ball with Atomic Swing. Plenty derivative and plenty irreverent, to be sure, but also plenty enjoyable. MARTIN BELL ETHYL MEATPLOW Happy Days, My Sweetheart (Chameleon) An anomaly, which is generally a good thing, although it doesn't entirely preclude being They Might Be Giants and thus deserving to be hounded mercilessly into an early grave. But this is quite a different kind of anomaly, more like the result of an unthinkable sexual encounter between (in descending order of use to the world) Soft Cell, Ministry (in every phase of their career), Nitzer Ebb and Jane's Addiction. Roughly translated, that means you get the crudely funky bass and drums the young people seem to enjoy but in place of the standard loud, lumpen guitars there are electronic noises of every kind scattered indiscriminately, "naively" across that unpromising framework, and better still, languid, androgynous male and female voices and sly, seductive melodies instead of blustery

shouted choruses. By far the best bits are the slower, quieter ones, 'Queenie' and 'Ripened Peach' which manage to sound lush and sordid at the same time, a more than respectable achievement I'm. sure you'll agree. MATTHEW HYLAND BLUR Modern Life Is Rubbish (EMI) The thing about Blur is they're not really Blur anymore. They're whoever you want them to be — as long as you want them to be a patchwork of English guitar pop history. They've stepped back from being nineties one hit wonders (Leisure was only memorable for 'There's No other Way') and turned themselves into timeless no-hit wonders.

That probably sounds harsher than intended. They're timeless because they don't really belong to the now. The reference points that whiz past as you listen to Modern Life are early Bowie, the Beatles, the Kinks and other guitar pop groups of yore. So musically they're based on prepunk pop innocence and they’ve applied it to songs about modern life — that also relates to romantic timelessness and, well, it all gets (appropriately) blurry to be honest.

But pop music, old and new, relies on those catchy tunes you want to hear again. And the problem with Modern Life is it's so obsessed with living in this timewarp that it doesn't come up with the goods. On occasion Blur can sound as good as their pop forefathers ('Chemical World', 'Sunday Sunday'). The slower numbers sometimes hint at the path they could have followed from their own past ('Blue Jeans' and 'Resigned'). But Blur needed to produce some stand out, drop dead 'hits' if they were to become as revered as the bands they're modelled on. The only thing they've learnt from history is, well, you know the rest. JOHN TAITE GARY MOORE Blues Alive (Virgin) More of the same 'ol blues from Mr Moore as he gives live renditions of songs from his previous two albums in the style he adopted a few years ago. The live sound is real good, the songs are polished and have an edge on the studio versions but you kinda wish he'd do something different now or rock out into overdrive for a bit like the old days. The best track is early favourite 'Parisienne Walk-

ways' and even without Phil Lynott it has an astonishing amount of feeling. 'Too Tired' is another highlight with Albert Collins guesting while all of 'Blues Alive' is dedicated to the memory of Albert King. There's no doubt that Gary Moore is still one of the best guitarists alive today but with nothing new to offer (A Night of the Blues video was released from his last tour and there's a video for this one too) only completists will find Blues Alive a must. GEOFF DUNN ANTHRAX Sound of White Noise (Elektra) Anthrax have returned with a record that is heavier and more oppressive than their previous works. A new stripped down ethic has emerged moving Anthrax into the 90s at last.

Former Armored Saint vocalist John Bush possesses the throaty, angstridden voice that the group always needed but could never get from the Lou Gramm of speed metal, Joey Belladonna. Then there's the choice of producer Davejerden, best known for his work with Jane's Addiction and Alice In Chains. These two factors together lead to one conclusion — Anthrax have moved to Seattle.

It's not a radical departure for the group but it’s unsettling. The sound is gritty and dense in the lower registers. There are no ballads, only minor dynamic changes, usually from very loud to extremely loud. Check out 'Only' (the great first single), 'Potter's Field' (about abortion) and 'This Is Not An Exit' — an almost Ministry-like industrial brain hammer.

Dark and menacing, no longer a high speed version of Journey or

Kansas — this is white boys making white noise. LUKE CASEY

VARIOUS ARTISTS - Deep Blues (Warners) For this compilation producer Robert Palmer (no not the pap pop singer) has literally delved deep into the counties of Mississippi and recorded a kind of modern field recording in the style of Allan Lomax. Palmer has recorded these sessions on the musicians home turf either live in their local juke joint or in their homes. To these people blues is a way of life. Shit, it all started here with the late and hugely influential Robert Johnson in the 30s who, legend has it, met the devil at the crossroads who tuned his guitar and took his soul. These are rural backwater black folks, only one genera-

tion out of slavery with a weird sense of religion and superstition. Johnson's ghost has laid some kindly hands. "Come on in" he said, "and take a little walk with me. "To quote from Palmer's extensive liner notes, "the music lives because it fills a need in the lives of individuals and their communities, a fundamental need for solace, and for expression The blues is their religion and the juke joint their place of worship." There is also one of those WARNINGS in the notes. "This is not folk music ... play very loud ... if the electric guitars aren't slicing your skull and dicing your brains like chainsaws from hell then TURN IT UP."

Singer harmonica player Frank Frost would be one of the more well known musicians featured. He performs with a rare reformation of the Jelly Roll Kings featuring the sonic shredding guitar of Big J ack Johnson on 'Midnight Prowler'. Jack's own contributions were recorded live in his local juke and sweats emotion. Mississippi Fred McDowell is the mentor of RL Burnside. If you have heard 'house rocking music' take a listen to RL. He plays 'house wrecking style'. Wild and dangerous. Also from the north Mississippi hills is David Junior Kimbrough who was an influence on white rockabilly and country singers such as Charlie Feathers. His singing is 'pure soul'. Jessie May Hemphill's grandfather was recorded by Lomax in the 40s and the granddaughter continues the tradition. She has two tracks of 'she devil blues’ included here, both recorded live and by the sound of her she is one woman you would not want to cross. As with the other live juke recordings, the sound is clear and well balanced, often the only indication of a live take being the background hoots and hollers deep in the mix. Booba Barnes is a unique character. Influenced by Howlin' Wolf he has been a pro for 35 years playing harmonica, singing not unlike Otis Rush and picking out searing electric sonics from his distinctive 12 string strung with six strings! Lonnie Pitchford has through Robert Lockwood's tuition developed a fine grasp of Robert Johnson's Delta style. His contribution was recorded late at night at his house in Lexington. He didn't even own a guitar anymore when Palmer tracked him down. He

plays' two Johnson . songs, ‘Terraplane Blues' and 'lf I Possession Over Judgement Day' and has "the hounds of hell snapping at his heels." Haunting. Brothers and sisters, this is the real thing. Handle with care. JOHN PILLY MAD COBRA. Hard To Wet, Easy To Dry (Sony) Along with Shabbaßanks, Mad Cobra is at the forefront of Sony Music Inc's foray into the reggae dancehall market. While not having Shabba's sexual braggadaccio — the Cobra's 'Good Body Gal' and 'Release' would have been better served in Shabba's hands — tracks such as 'Mi Sorry' are equal to the work of other dancehall luminaries such as General Levy. Cobra is ably assisted on this outing by the ever-amazing rhythms of Sly Dunbar. Jamaican production kings Steely and Clevie also lend a hand — for more evidence of what this multi-talented duo are capable of check out 'Steely and Clevie Play Studio One Vintage'. 'Wet Dream' sees the Cobra taking a backward glance at John Holt's rocksteady classic'Ali Baba' only to suffer the ignominious fate of not being a patch on the original. Still, it's the thought that counts.

Mad Cobra hits his stride on 'Mate A Talk' and the chilling 'Minute To Pray' — turn up the volume as the sound of Lee Scratch Perry's male elephant from the Black Ark breaks loose and rampages in the studio sound of the 90s!

As good as some of these tracks are, there is not enough here to sustain a whole album and too often the Cobra's vocals fail to match the venomous intent of the songs—this one's for dedicated followers of the dancehall stylee. JOCK LAWRIE

NEMESIS DUB SYSTEMS A Multitrack Situation DUANE ZARAKOV Calling Dr. Hate (Homebacon Tapes, d 500 Worcester St, Christchurch) Here are two quite different NZinterpretations of the much fetishized concept, "dub". Read the descriptions carefully and you may be able to tell which is which. One of them claims - to be re-

corded "on shit equipment with no budget" but still has a big, spacious, detailed sound in which drum programmes, sequencers etc are grafted quite successfully onto what still sounds like bass guitar based (though vocaless, but for an appearance and disappearance from media personality Jan Hellriegel) songs. It avoids the predictability for which the "d" word can be an excuse because the chords and even the rhythms never stay in the same place for too long. Sharp-edged little melodies float in and out of earshot, most frequencies audible to the human ear are touched on somewhere, sometimes all at once.. Yes it's an agreeable background buzz, no it won't change your life or even your afternoon.

The other one is dub as in "dubbed off the radio". It's the fuckyou 10-tech approach to sampling: in discreet snatches, a bloodcurdling scream, a dirty analogue electric hiss, an annoying two , second guitar phrase that holds the whole thing almost together, more bad wiring noise and some bits of what sounds like BFM talkback—"that's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard" it says. (But T. Giles can't be Dr. Hate, there's no virulence at all on that show, just counselling for vile teenage "problems"). The other side is much the same plus a great opening sequence: "and now, our national anthem" then a few seconds of 'Stairway To Heaven' then three gunshots sending Plant and Page to the depths of hell. MATTHEW HYLAND IRON MAIDEN A Real Live One (EMI) And so the question is raised: what will Maiden do now? They are Bruceless and will be hard pressed to find another vocalist of such histrionic proportions. However, the earlier replacement of Adrian Smith in the guitar department bodes well for another reshuffle in the ranks. This disc is Maiden's first live record since the incredibly good Live After Death album. Taken from various European shows on the Fear of The Dark record, it showcases material from their post-1986 records. It's to be followed by A Real Dead One, which will include material from earlier records such as Piece of Mind. . Here, quality of performance

has been favoured over quality of recording. As grandfathers of this genre, Iron Maiden are obviously trying to recover the joys of preDickinson recorded performance and perhaps with goodreason. Many of the older groups are now re-dis-covering the joys of energetic music making after the thrill of big dollars has worn off. This disc portrays that return to a younger spirit not indicated on some of their more tire-

some recent studio outings. With the departure of the 'Tattoed Millionaire' to pursue his solo and acting career, Maiden will lose some important tunes such as the hilarious 'Bring You Daughter To The Slaughter'. However, principal songwriter and Maiden visionary Steve Harris is still firmly controlling the ship. Let's hope they find a new vocalist to match their tireless enthusiasm. LUKE CASEY

PJ HARVEY Rid of Me (Polygram) This is wimmin's music with a capital M, Sinead O'Connor with hair and an ace Steve Albini production job.

It's all here — the broody, moody build ups that break with a triumphant 'Huh!' into a drum/ bass/guitar maelstrom over which PJ bleats 'l've missed him!' or 'l'm hurting!' or 'I still love you!'. Every song reeks of being wrenched from the gutz of a woman , splattered with broken notes, up-ended wails, and anguished cries, like period pains set to music. PJ makes being a woman sound so dreary! But when she tries to get dangerous, breathing through gritted teeth "I've got to get man-sized — got my leather boots on", her dippy English accent sounds as heavy as Dawn French doing a comedy sketch. This is the funniest thing on the album. Otherwise it's all so obsessive — what man wouldn't run a mile from a woman wringing her hands and moaning and droning on about their love affair like this! Women like PJ give love a bad name, perpetuating the myth that it's an obsessive, allconsuming, life I death, fucked up torturous thing whereas, in much more mundane reality, it's just a matter of digging someone else's company and having fun. If it's not, you're flogging a dead horse. But

then that's what most artists do these days, isn't it? On a purely musical level, PJ actually comes up with some surprisingly weird and nasty sounding guitar, the songs are highly charged, quite raw and interesting, but ultimately there's no escape from the steaming open wound of Miss Harvey's voice. If you're a champion of women's causes you'll probably think PJ is earthed to some fascinating, primal love current. You'll be impressed by how de-glamorous she looks on the cover and the fact that she plays guitar, cello, violin and organ and just generally bleeds all over the record. This album has its moments, but by the time it finished I really wanted someone to give me Motorhead. DONNA YUZWALK CROW My Kind Of Pain (Half A Cow) As our illustrious editor once said, the only thing worse than Jimmy Barnes is an Aussie alternative group. He was wrong. In fact you can make an argument for saying that Crow is one of the best albums ever to come out of Australia, up there with the odd GoBetweens and Saints albums —

there's not really that big a range of "Great Ocker Albums".

First song 'Prisoner' kicks off sounding like Graham Downes singing for Slint. Unfortunately they can't maintain that — it would be too much to ask for.

What they do come up with is an album of eerie melancholy, minimalist sketches of small time miseries which have enveloped themselves far beyond their means into a painful whole. Slint is a useful reference point - they're covering a lot of the same area in a sense. But they've replaced Slint's rarified atmosphere for a more down-to-earth melancholy breaking into desperation. Slower songs like 'LhLH' and 'Light' sound suitably low, but the album's highlight is the surprisingly wonderful grandeur of 'The Old Blue Rockpile', which teeters between mundanity and excess and ends up miles from either. Some of the credit for it, no doubt, must go to producer Steve Albini, who really must be the best

producer in the world at the moment. He contributes his trademark monochromatically dense and claustrophobic closing in of the sound. Compared to some people Albini has recorded with, Crow really thrives under the treatment. CAMPBELL WALKER NEW VERSION OF SOUL Birth of the Souladelic (Capitol) The title suggests a soul plus psychedelic equation, but New Version of Soul's new version of soul is rap and their psychedelic should really read "influenced by P-Funk". The result of this tryst is a hip-hop set that's almost a concept album. The concept is Mr. Skatter, a recurring Mr. Wiggles/ Dr. Funkenstein-type character. He's a skeleton who gets resurrected between tracks to spool the

kids with interludes such as "Mr. Skatter's Souladelic Nursery Rhymes" — wherein A Streetcar Named Desire-strength rainstorms back Skatter's "curious creem from a souladelic dream" scat scheme.

Musically, the sample count is slim, most of the drum/ bass/ noise collage emanating from within the five person posse — who then proceed to sample-themselves. There's a P-Funk fashion sense (tassels, robes, skin, blonde black girls) and both male and female rappers. They're at their most ominous/ effective when they lay down an evil groove and buttress it raw and tough ('Pump Up the Sound') or go hi-tech and ghoulish ('Heaven'), or let Skatter have his way (the Clintonesque "fatback grease and lip-smacking grooves" intro.) Mostly it works, but in a mostly minor way. ANDREW PALMER

WILLIE NELSON Across the Borderline

(Columbia) If you've ever been tempted by Willie Nelson but have been put off by the company he has kept (take a bow, Julio), start here. At first glance, it looks like another of those "link a geriatric musician with a gang of celebrities and revive their career" records. It's worked for John Lee Hooker, Buddy Guy, Bonnie Raitt, Chuck Berry, Flaco Jiminez and Johnnie Johnson. Some had a cynical marketing air about them — only Bonnie's recent albums have equalled this one in being a creativ e success as well. This is the record that will cause the sceptics to reassess Willie Nelson's credibility. The linking factor is producer Don Was — and his skill is for what he doesn't do as much as for what he does. He's let Willie use his own band, the great Memphis mafia who came here on the Highwaymen tour. But Willie's passionate, dusty voice dominates, with his inimitable phrasing, and mix of soaring melody and spoken word. And this time he's got the greatest collection of songs to work with since his own writing heyday; songs by John Hiatt, Peter Gabriel, Willie Dixon, Lyle Lovett, Bob Dylan, Paul Simon — and Nelson himself. And such is the sincerity of Nelson's voice that he injects such familiar songs as Simon's 'Graceland' and Lovett's 'Farther Down the Line' with more

depth than they had in the first place.

The two most moving songs reflect how Nelson's art and life is as tied to the land as Steinbeck's Joads: the title track, the Tex-Mex lament from the film The Border, and 'Heartland', written with Dylan. The latter ponders on the US farm crisis, "the American dream that's fallen apart at the seams" — and also on Willie's personal crisis, "Bankers have taken my land and my home from me". Nelson also suffered the death of a son recently. It's crass to suggest these his personal tragedies have given the music a renewed heart; but certainly, with a little help from his friends, Willie Nelson is back where he once belonged. CHRIS BOURKE HAMPSTER Hampsterdam (New Edge Recordings) In the two years they have been together Christchurch band Hampster have quietly worked their way to becoming one of the best jazz bands around. The four young musicians that make up the band have developed their own sound that incorporates a mix of jazz, funk and ambience that appeals to a wide audience.

This, their first CD release, has the band showcasing the diversity of their sound. I've never really been a fan of jazz but right from Carmel Courtney's opening sax intro on Donksville (an imaginary town so the liner notes tell) I was caught in their quirky instrumentals. The album seems to showcase each member's diversity, particularly bassist James Wilkinson and the aforementioned Courtney, but fortunately it is done in subtle ways. With titles like 'Uncle's Me Bob’, 'Mazbout', 'Hampster's Big Day Out' (complete with seagulls) and 'Beethoven's Bottom', there is a lot of humour in the album and with its spaciousness it is, oh the whole, a great album to daydream to. J. GREENFIELD ROSANNECASH The Wheel (Columbia) There's a well-worn cliche in rock criticism: "I don't know how many Astral Weeks-got-me-through stories I've heard, but mine is one." The seamless confessional album

may be a very 70s idea, but for 25 years that classic has got inside people's lives like a restorative soundtrack. Rosanne Cash's Interiors was in the same genre, and deserves almost equal status as an hypnotic emotional palliative. Interiors was eloquent and painfully honest, and concentrated on Cash's brooding themes of doomed romance and the games people play. Weaving throughout the record were the delicate guitar lines of Steuart Smith, whose discreet backing made the record compelling despite the dark themes. The record was like an open examination of Cash's failed marriage to Rodney Crowell, it was a creative exorcism: she has found her own musical voice since wresting production control from Crowel. The Wheel is Interiors 11, but now there is an experienced resilient air to Cash's voice. So far the songs may not seem as strong, and the dynamic shadings not as varied, but it took weeks for me to get inside Interiors, until I was finally captivated. From 1987's King's Record Shop to The Wheel, Cash has completed a trilogy that marks the coming-of-age of an under-rated artist. CHRIS BOURKE JIMMY LAFAVE Austin Skyline (Bohemia Beat) Austin is an oasis in the middle of Texas, where the hills are green and the people are educated. There must be something in the water, for the number of outstanding singer-song-writers to emerge from the college town is truly astounding. Suddenly the name on everybody's lips is Jimmy LaFave, a man with a voice that is instantly captivating. He combines the grit of Rod Stewart with the flexibility and interpretive depth of Van Morrison and his skill at writing songs — and choosing covers — is as unerring as both mentors were early in their careers. Austin Skyline was recorded live in various local clubs, and the risks LaFave takes with his voice as he deconstructs a ballad must make him rivetting to watch. Only on the upbeat numbers on this album — in which he is held back by a generic bar-band — is his performance less than extraordinary. LaFave's voice is both passionate and delicate, and his songs movingly convey years of

heartache and experience. A testimony to his talent is the success he has with songs by others: in another risky move, he covers four Dylan songs, including such personal statements as 'You're A Big Girl Now' and 'Shelter From The Storm', and his interpretation of 'Walk Away Renee' makes others look lightweight. But equal to any of the covers are his own ballads like 'Desperate Men Do Desperate Things', 'Darkest side of Midnight' and 'Only One Angel', songs which build to anguished climaxes without ever becoming overwrought. In early July, LaFave plays Auckland and Wellington. For fans of roots music, soul or country, it'll be a rare treat to see such an exciting talent when his career is only beginning. CHRIS BOURKE

DIANA ROSS Stolen Moments (EMI) It's become almost a rite of passage for rock singers seeking mid-life credibility to have a crack at 'the standards'. But while it's one thing to belt away in front of a four-square backbeat, it becomes quite another to negotiate the demanding, jazzinflected melodies of the classic American popular songs of the 20s, 30s and 40s. Many — Sinead O'Connor, Robert Palmer, Ricky Lee Jones et al — simply haven't got the craft. Others, such as Linda Ronstadt and Natalie Cole, get everything technically correct yet their interpretations remain cold and sterile. It is rare indeed for a rock-era singer to both fully serve the songs and also be able to recreate them as personally valid. All the more surprising then that Diana Ross should triumph where so many of her peers have failed. Diana Ross! Is this the same woman who is reputedly scared to perform in public because her voice is unreliable? No more. Stolen Moments offers 70 minutes of ROss performing live with six, ten, and 17piece bands.

The songs, apart from one original and a couple from the Rodgers and Hart book, are nearly all by, or associated with, Billy Holiday. Of course Ross has had a go at this stuff before. Back in 72 Motown boss Berry Gordy bought the rights to Lady Sings The Blues in order to

launch his (then) girlfriend into movies. The film may have been a travesty but, against all expectations, Ross made an astonishingly good job of the title role. And while it's a given that no-one can really cover Billie Holiday, Ross at least delivered the song with real feeling, albeit a feeling that meant we could listen to the songs without having to deal with Holiday's pain and passion.

So in the context of Ross's career that movie soundtrack ranks among her very best albums. And now Stolen Moments may even surpass it. The bands are superb and Ross has never sounded better. Her voice is sure and her interpretive understanding has deepened with age. 'Good Morning Heartache' for instance, takes on a wistfulness only hinted at in her earlier version. Sometimes artists mature and sometimes they just get older. With Stolen Moments Diana Ross is back in a position she has not seriously held for some 20 or so years — as one of the major popular singers of her generation. PETER THOMSON

SHELLEYAN ORPHAN Humroot (Festival) I once saw Shelleyan Orphan support the Cure but the only thing they have in common is that they

are both from England. At least Robert Smith has a couple of good ideas. These folk seem to have stolen their's from the Sundays and the Cocteau Twins.

Also, any band that has a song titled 'Long Dead Flowers Dried Out In Summer' are rather setting themselves up. This album does have a couple of good moments (yes at least two!) like on 'Burst' where Jem Tayle sounds like the Beat's Dave Wakeling with a sock in his mouth. Then there is Caroline Crawley not sure if she's Liz Fraser or Harriet Wheeler. There are some nice string arrangements and a bit of oboe, trumpet, flute and fiddle here and there but to be perfectly honest your life will not be overly enriched by this release (the Orphans third, fact fans). Humroot, beetroot, it's all the same to me. ALISTER CAIN ROD STEWART Unplugged and Seated (Warner Bros) The original MTV concept of Unplugged involved notions of simplicity and intimacy. It worked for a while too. (Try, for example, the Paul McCartney set). But ever since Mariah Carey's hit single and then the phenomenal success of the Clapton album, stakes have been raised. Rod Stewart may be seated

but he's accompanied by an 11piece band and a substantial string section (complete with conductor). And if the organs playing aren't wind-pumped that means it's only the guitars that remain unplugged. Despite having written only six of the 15 songs here Stewart delivers little in the way of surprises. Most of the non-originals are numbers which have become — at least partially — identified with him over the years. The only newie is his affectionate rendition of long time hero Sam Cooke's 'Having A Party' which closes the album.

There's no attempt at any reinterpretation (a la Clapton's unplugged 'Layla') so, aside from the concert's pervasive mood of bonhomie, each song tends to invite comparison with Stewart's prior version. While his voice is still strong enough, much of his old interpretive nuance is missing. There's also the fact that his musicians — apart from old cohort Ron Wood — are far too well-disciplined to adopt the instrumental looseness of those early albums. Small changes perhaps but significant nonetheless. Now 25 years into his career, Rod Stewart has regained his credibility with. 1991's fine Vagabond Heart. He also retains his essential, self-effacing sense of humour — some of Unplugged's spoken introductions are a delight. What he's

long since lost is his musical eccentricity.

Unplugged and Seated won't hurt Stewart's career one jot. It's a robust album, nothing like the soporific Clapton set. Yet for those of us who love the greatness of his early work it's an album we probably won't find a great deal of use for. PETER THOMSON MOTH MACABRE (Interscope) Imagine a bright light fuelled by the genius of the Pixies. The shadowy winged insect flitting about the edge of the glow is San Francisco's Moth Macabre. Lead Moth Daniel Presley, like the Pixies' Black Francis, shares a penchant for seemingly nonsensical lyrics which roll fluidly off the tongue. If Black Francis wanted to 'Bossanovawitcha' then Presley wants you to "become a saladofwatchmacallit".

Yes, occasionally they do veer too close to the source, burning their wings on tracks such as 'Pale' — the closest thing you'll hear to the Pixies this side of the (Frank) Black stump. However, the occasional overt influence aside, Moth Macabre is an often stunning debut. Opening track 'All Great Architects Are Dead’ (great title!) leaps from

the speakers with a searing, exuberant glee. Elizabeth is a truly macabre piece of black humour about the victim of a prank gone wrong returning from the grave. Moth Macabre really hit their stride over the centre section of this album. 'Blow', 'Two Days', 'Malibu' and 'Screwdriver Girl' are brilliant —good enough to be the highlights of most band's careers. The fact that these tracks are contained within a debut album bodes well for future recordings. I just hope that Moth Macabre don't dive too close to that flame. By focussing their vision and cartwheeling off in their own direction they could light a few fires. MARTIN BELL PRIMUS Pork Soda (Warners) Despite their protestations to the opposite Primus are, or at least were, a funk rock band. But the "industrial Chili Peppers" image that the drawn out percussionist funk on Frizzle Fry earned them has gone. On Pork Soda Primus take their incongruous oddball bass and twangy vocals to the edge, then smother funk labellings with wild arrays of weird sounding crashes and bangs. The major label signing has

driven them more to extremes rather than limited their progressive industro rock experimentation. Hence eight minute, heavy bass driven epic jams on the album like 'Hamburger Train' rest beside what amounts to a stomping instrumental rip off of 'The Teddy Bear's Picnic' and 'My Name Is Mud' has kind of a Butthole Surfers feel to it.

It's the lyrics and vocals of Les Claypool, the man Chuck D called the Mr Magoo of rock, that really characterise Pork Soda. He lives in a world where Ren and Stimpy are revered philosophers, where everyone seems to be called Alowishus, and where fishing is a recurring point of personal reference. Primus have always had a very warped view of music and culture and Pork Soda continues that, more emphatically than ever. TONY MILLER GEORGE MICHAEL AND QUEEN Five Live EP (EMI) There's no denying that 'Somebody To Love' was one of the best songs that dear old Freddie Mercury ever wrote and here it is tackled by George Michael and Queen in a manner that would have had Freddie well pleased. George belts his way

through the vocals and the band are as tight as one thing. You even get one of Brian May's questionable lead breaks. Of course with 'Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me' George has already proved he can do justice to other people's songs. As further proof there are versions of Sly's 'Papa Was A Rolling Stone' and Seal's 'Killer'. 'Somebody To Love' though demands constant replaying and that's more of a tribute to Freddie than anything else. ALISTER CAIN VAN MORRISON Best Of, Vol II (Polydor) Van Morrison has been making records for nearly 30 years, and his career has had an extraordinary consistency shared by few of his peers. The first Best Ofbarely scratched the surface of musical treasure available, but it gave an adequate overview for a new audience bamboozled by the sheer quantity of records Morrison has released (few of which have ever gone out of print). However the variety of musical styles sat awkwardly together, and newcomers may have left with a confused portrait of Morrison. This second volume, chosen by Van himself, concentrates on his work since the mid-80s and is consequently more even in tone. After his return to form with 1979's Into The Music, Morrison settled back to make a series of languid, spiritual albums that were almost interchangeable. He seemed to have got lost in his own wistfulness and

turned his ethereal, mystical niche into a rut. But Morrison's 1988 collaboration with the Chieftains reinvigorated him, and the albums since — particularly Avalon Sunset — have been a satisfying mix of ecstatic R&B and lushly orchestrated nostalgic contemplation. This compilation reflects that, though there is still too much space given to the mid-80s languor of albums like Sense of Wonder, No Guru ... and Poetic Champions Compose. Two selections from Morrison’s mid60s band Them (covers of songs by John Lee Hooker and Bob Dylan) show how long he's been struggling to express the inarticulate speech of his heart, though inarticulate is the last word I'd choose. CHRIS BOURKE PAULUBANAJONES I Need A Storm (Flying Fish) This has to be a first. A Kiwi ex-pat Cockney releasing an album on the prestigious American Chicago based roots label Flying Fish. I Need A Storm was recorded at Trax Studio in Hollywood only weeks after Jones completed his last NZ album Things Which Touch Me So, recorded at Marmalade in Wellington and released on Pagan. I Need A Storm is all different material and has a more straight ahead traditional folk blues sound as you would expect from Flying Fish, less embellishments that engineer Nigel Stone and producer Trevor Reekie put around the superb Things album. US producer Mitch Greenhill

has kept the sound basic and clean. No delays and little overdubbing with most tracks recorded live in the studio in one take. This is possible because Jones approaches the recording process with his songs and arrangements mapped out in his head. One man, his voice and guitar, not to mention extensive experience in song writing and arranging has allowed this set to be recorded in just one week. Compare that to Phil Spector who once spent a week on one chord of a Ramones album.

The live favourite 'Song To Jimi' (Hendrix) is included here after being recorded but left off Things. This re-recorded version is a six minute opus of delicate acoustic guitar and impassioned vocals. The temptation to process the guitar has been avoided with production value added to the vocal. Awesome cut. Also arranged and rehearsed for Things but not included there is an acapella version of Gil Scott Heron's ‘Home Is Where The Heart Is' with a scat type refrain keeping time under Jones' main vocal about a junkie's tortured dream of life. The only other cover on the 13 track set is Memphis Slim's 'Life Is Like That' which is played in a simple country blues style of acoustic guitar and voice. That's all it needs. Jones is currently touring this country before returning to the US. If you enjoy him live then this is as close as you can get to have him playing in your living room. JOHN PILLEY MARXMAN 33 Revolutions Per Minute (Talkin' Loud) Originality isn't dead! All you have to do is keep thinking up more and more grotesque combinations of existing stereotypes and before you know it you're an "innovator". Thus, Marxman are (as the name subtly implies) Marxist-Leninist rappers who show off their Irishness by mixing Celtic drums and pipes in with the beats. The really sick thing is that it actually works. Whether or not you share their faith in "the mass, the class to set it all straight" their ideological "purity" gives them a focus and a force-of-austerity that's missing from, say, Consolidated's green-left package deal. The music has little to do with Public Enemy's metallic fury or Hiphoprisy's

strength-through-joy; instead, by combining jazz chords with dark, swelling strings (see especially the extraordinary single, 'Ship Ahoy') and the barest, strictly non-quaint Irish folk sounds it achieves a strange, restrained kind of gravity. In fact every song has been so perfectly thought out and richly embellished that the album is a paradoxical object: an uncompromisingly activist luxury item. MATTHEW HYLAND DEACON BLUE Whatever You Say, Say Nothing (Columbia) BIG COUNTRY The Buffalo Skinners (Compulsion) THE REZILLOS ' X r Can't Stand the Rezillos: The Almost Complete Reziilos (Sire) Aaargggh, a rising of Scots zombies well past their bedtime starts with Deacon Blue, those tedious second-hand Prefab Sprouts who've at last made an album with surprising bite.

Contemporary champion mixmasters, Stece Osborne and Paul Oakenfold have given their material a dimension of menace and hidden depth right from the opening uneasiness of 'Your Town'. Songs like 'Peace & Jobs & Freedom' maintain their Sprout-ish craftmanship but there's more mystery and shadows here and a guitar that undercuts a prowling bass line. Nuff said. Whatever You Say may not figure in the year's countdown but it's a little comeback for those counted out.

Trying to rationalise a weakness for Big Country is more difficult. Their first two albums — early 80s beacons the Crossing and Steeltown — were collisions of Springsteen anthem and heroism and Gaelic guitar bravado and maudlin nostalgia.

The Buffalo Skinners is their best album since 1984's Steeltown (although that's not saying much) and instinctively crashes out the gui-tars-as-bagpipes call-to-arms love and justice metaphors of 'Seven Waves' and 'What Are You Working For?'. Stirring stuff, especially when the porridgeis boiling, but it's really thin gruel with Stuart Adamson trying to re-live a past formula rather than trying to progress beyond the nostalgia of his good ol’ days.

The Rezillos are nostalgia of a different kind, they were a bolt of cartoon pop-punk lightening that struck Scotland after the crackle of 1977. Vocalist Fay Fife and writer/ guitarist John Callis (later to join Human League) instituted a brightly lit madness that incorporated kinetic greats like 'Top of the Pops' and 'I Can't Stand My Baby' with methanol versions of 'Glad All Over' and ‘I Like It'.

On the inside sleeve Dinosaur Jr's J. Mascis describes the first Rezillos album (they only ever did one studio and one live album and both make up the CD) as the best album Sire ever put out. And he's probably right. GEORGE KAY THE WELCOME MAT Gram (Regular) THE KILLJOYS A Million Suns (MXL) The best Australian album since the Hoodoo Gurus' first is how one magazine described Gram, and that's meant to be flattering. In fact the Welcome Mat very rarely venture into the gimmicky takeaway world of the Gurus preferring to cut their own humble but diverse path into outback pop.

Gram has something for everyone, a variety that shows the band's versatility at crafting good guitar songs and wilder crunch times like

the Fanclubbish 'Flying End'. Their politer noises like 'Everyone's Gone' or ballads like 'Leap of Faith' or the guitar shards that drive 'All of Nothing' are no less impressive and show that this is a band that can convincingly turn their hands to most things.

Melbourne's the Killjoys are also modest high achievers and they contradict their name with a second album that’s seldom less than delightful. Initial impressions are that A Million Suns is on the anaemic ‘side and that Anna Burley's vocals are plain and colourless, but these reservations melt in the face of familiarity with shimmering ballads like 'Pray for Rain', tuneful rockabilly in 'Should Know Better' and definitive pop melodrama like 'I Lied'. The Killjoys make organic, unaffected pollutant-free pop. Gotta be good for you. GEORGE KAY RAKE When Your Duff Is Cold & Your Belly Is Empty (Yellow Bike) Four songs and seven inches of unalloyed bile from another great, ignored Palmerston North band. About a hundred guitars get beaten to a pulp by fat, ugly basslines and somewhere in the middle distance a man with a distoned microphone suffers horribly. Yes of course it says Gordons and Big Black all over it, they know no shame, which is all

the more reason to go and see them at Pelican with Lung on June 25. MATTHEW HYLAND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS The Downward Road (Mercury) Singer/ guitarist Moe Berg of Canada's TPOH has got one thing on his mind on The Downward Road—sexand plenty of it. He might have a libido as big as the Matterhorn but his lustful prose only veers from the

absurd ('ln Her Dreams') "She's running through the woods—she's out of her head/ she's naked and laughing and bleeding down her leg", to the ridiculous ('Honeytime') "Honeytime, Honeytime/ I'm like Pooh Bear, I always have my hand in the jar/ My fingers find an oasis/ slip them inside and it swells". Sensitive New Age Guy (not). This largely excrutiating fare is redeemed in parts by the always interesting backing vocals of second guitarist Kris Abbott but far too many songs are built on a plodding stadium rock bass and boring 12 bar blues base to sustain any real interest. 'Heavy Metal Tears' and 'Pressing Lips' are fairly lightweight with their gentle acoustic guitars and pretty melodies but come as a welcome relief to the predictable power chords which dominate the rest of the album. These tracks recall the seamless blue-eyed soul of early Hall and Oates and in particular 70s wunderland Todd Rundgren. It comes as no surprise to find the Runt himself popping up with a trademark guitar solo on the instrumental 'Love Theme From TPOH'.

Minor highlights aside, The Downward Road finds TPOH on an unfortunate downward spiral, sounding like a vaguely alternative, overdriven guitar version of Huey Lewis and the News. Yeeuucch.

MARTIN BELL