albums

Rip It Up, Issue 201, 1 May 1994, Page 34

albums

I MEAT PUPPETS Too High to Die (London Records/Polygram)

Produced by their friend and Butthole Surfer Paul Leary, this album doesn’t stray too far off the path that the Meatpuppets usually follow. It’s not that they’ve found a formula they like and have stuck with it, theyjust make music that comes outta themselves, there is no feeling of the music being forced. The Meatpuppets have crafted their own sound and have stuck to it with a vengeance not because they want to, but because they have to. As always their sound is snappy and fresh, with elements of their desert environment popping up in their music in the form of hillbillyish beats and eerie vast guitar sounds that sometimes sound as lonely as the desert itself. Every song has the brothers Kirkwood singing harmoniously, sometimes over truckin’ layered guitar sounds and sometimes to slow, melancholy pieces with Hawaiian guitar leaking into the mix. From the choppy precise pop song 'We Don’t Exist’ (with a very REM chorus) to the quieter ‘Shine’ and the unusually Scottish sounding guitar on 'Stations’ it’s clear every song is crafted with thought. They are immediately recognisable as Meatpuppets songs because they are only influenced by themselves and not anyone else, or any current 'thing' that is happening in music at the moment (even though they are wearing dresses on the record sleeve, so what, ventilation in the desert would be essential I imagine). If you feel the need to listen to a record full of quirkiness and irregularities or need a bit of light relief amongst all the heavyweights around today, get this and transport yourself somewhere else. SHIRLEY-ANNE CHARLES

PRIMAL SCREAM Give Out But Don’t Give Up (Creation)

I like the Rolling Stones. There, I’ve said it. You can't beat a bit of Keef’n Mick on a beer swilling summer ‘avo. And listening to Give Out But Don't Give Up you can bet that Primal Scream’s Bobby Gillespie agrees. The Rolling Stones circa 1970 have somehow possessed the soul of Primal Scream 1994 — but don’t call the rock exorcist just yet. It's not Screamadelica. So what. Andy Weatherall had more to do with that anyway. The eight minute instrumental ‘Struttin’ which squeaks and trips all over the place is the only reminder of their immediate past. And the move isn’t a complete surprise if you recall ’Movin’ On Up’ and ’Damaged’. This time round they recorded in Memphis with producer Tom Dowd.

Most of the album has been re-mixed by Black Crows producer George Drakoulias and it shows. But unlike the Crows who’re into the two-dimensional Stonesy bravado, the Primals get into the displacement and redemption that drove their mentors.

‘Rocks’ is ‘Brown Sugar’, ‘Cry Myself Blind’ is ‘Wild Horses’ and ‘Sad and Blue’ sounds like they’ve kidnapped a Stones gospel choir and pinched their magic harmonica. Spicing up the white boy rhythm and blues fest are a couple of tracks re-mixed by George Clinton where Denise Johnson gets more of the limelight. ‘Funky Jam' and the title track sound like a completely different band. You can assume from this that the Primals move through phases as the groove takes them. They always have, always will. And they always have fun doing it.

JOHN TAITE.

GREEN APPLE QUICK STEP Wonderful Virus (The Medicine Label)

It must be something about putting the word green in a band name. Green Jelly. Green Apple Quick Step. Green Rubbish That Everybody Hates. Okay, so I made up the last one. GAQS are a bad imitation of Stone Temple Pilots and/or Ugly Kid Joe. They’ve got one song, ‘Dirty Water Ocean’, with a catchy riff that jerks all over the place and cuts short before it drags. But as for the rest. Well, big clumsy rock ‘n rollisms, “yay-erh" vocals and sonic gruel guitars. Every track vomits up a fresh marnus.

They may come from the S town, they may well have stolen the formula, but they can’t turn their musical lead into gold.

SLEEP Sleep’s Holy Mountain (Earache) THE OBSESSED The Church Within (Columbia)

JOHN TAITE

Nowadays the prevalent ‘rock’ thing seems to be the whiny alternative boy who has no friends and is deeply wounded by the world even though he’s richer than your sorry ass will ever be; the plump aggro rock numbskull who churns out subMetallica dirge and complains almost as much as the alternonerd or even worse, some amalgam of the two. Therefore, a small but important chunk of

the population who like their rock stupid, but not so stupid they’ll buy some godawful Paw or Pantera record, are neglected. Well, loosen up those wallets as here are two albums you’ve been waiting for. Both these bands are effortlessly a ton heavier and cooler than any ‘buzzband’ you care to name, but will never be adored by the cool kids as they’re so damn regressive it frightens the average hipster. Here in the States there’s a breed of greasy while trash youth the amatuer sociologists have dubbed the Heshers. They live in bleak, broke towns that fringe the desert, sell car parts to people like me and are still bummed that Ozzy left Sabbath. These are the people who will truly love Sleep and the Obsessed (I gave a tape of both bands to a guy as part payment for a water pump. He swears it’s the best thing he’s heard since Kill ‘Em All. You get the idea). Sleep are definitely the more tripped out of the two. They take that classic Sabbath sound and roll it up with a little of Hawkwind, then slow it all down a notch or two. Their song titles and lyrics are utterly ridiculous — ‘Evil Gypsy/Soloman’s Theme’ or ‘Dragonaut’ for example, but these guys are not fooling around.

This stuff is awesome and seriously heavy. For a trio these Frisco natives can set up a real racket, and sustain it nicely. This is a return to classic heavy with little reliance on speed to bludgeon the listener, and it’s got that mean stoner vibe that made the likes of MCS so scary, and best of all it sounds like it was pure analog equipment and tube amps being heavily overloaded. ‘Holy Mountain’ is the peak, a symphony of distortion, riffs and alienation — exactly what rock should be. The Obsessed tread a more commercial path but don’t think that means it’s some Stone Temple Pilots muck. These guys are heavy incarnate (they were once called St. Vitus and made some of the finest metal records SST ever released). Vocalist Wino has a great Ozzy howl and again you have a power trio supreme in action. The whole sound is much cleaner than Sleep and there’s even a few solid melodies floating around here. Of course it's the down and dirty we’re interested in and there's no shortage of that. The Church Within is nasty and unrelenting but it’s a powerful ride too. Best of all, both these albums prove that rock hasn’t been totally emasculated by hipsters and money. There’s still bands who play loud for the pure dumb pleasure of it and still people who listen for the same reasons. KIRK GEE

LUSCIOUS JACKSON In Search Of Matty (Grand Royal)

QUEEN LATIFAH Black Reign ■■ (Motown) SHABBA RANKS What ‘Cha Gonna Do? (Sony/Epic)

Luscious Jackson, from the east coast of the US, are the latest recipients of a helping hand from well-known New York scenesters. This seven track EP is released on the Beastie Boys own label, and though Luscious aren’t the female equivalent, they exhibit some obvious similarities to ‘ver lads.

The beats are old school but punctuated with flakey samples and quirky tape loops, and songwise they run the gamut from hard-edge rap tunes to more traditional pop grooves. Lyrics are limited to tales of the wild thing done or urging fly-boys to “...feel the beat, stomp your feet.’’ Rhyme queens they’re not. But hints of brilliance like the repetitive swirling loop on ‘Daughters Of The Kaos’ and the irresistible ‘Life Of Leisure’ make this debut oddly appealing. Recently departed from the Tommy Boy label, Queen Latifah throws up Black Reign as her debut on Motown and for now it’s business as usual. As with her previous efforts she puts it together with style and flavour. Combining funk, jazz, R&B and hip hop, this is an album that takes a perfect amount of time to grow on you. Her singing voice ain’t up to much but when she's on the hardcore tip you’ll be shakin’ in your boots. Listen especially for the funky ‘No Work’ and the Tony Rebel/Latifah duet ‘Weekend Love.’

This EP from Shabba Ranks, one of dancehall’s most controversial stars, contains five special versions of ‘What ‘Cha Gonna Do’ from the highly entertaining X-Tra Naked album, and the bonus track ‘Bedroom Bully.’ The title song is a heady concoction, a well wicked rhythm laying heavy under a

catchy keyboard line and Shabba’s throaty voice but the ‘4oth Street Hip Hop Mix’ is the choice cut, taking on board some hard-nosed beats and a heavy rap from the Queen. ‘Bedroom. . . ‘ is Shabba at his thrust and grind best. His chat-at pace is stunning and over a sparse back-beat he once again declares his sexual proficiency.

ELVIS COSTELLO Brutal Youth (Warner Bros)

JOHN RUSSELL

Costello is back. And with a belief in basics again, according to those who rejected his last three albums through lack of patience or a genuine belief that his cynicisms were demanding enough without the inconsistencies and complexities that interrupted Spike, Mighty Like A Rose and The Juliet Letters.

Water under the bridge. It’s enough to know that Brutal Youth is his most immediate, most rock n’roll album since Blood and Chocolate and arguably his best collection of songs since the great King of America. With the Attractions reassembled, Costello loses no time in taking the offensive with the sexually allusive sharp attacks of ‘Pony St’, ‘Kinder Murder’ and ‘l3 Steps Lead Down’. At the piano he eases into a more personal, confessional garb on ‘Still Too Soon To Know’ and ‘Favourite Hour’, an approach which peaks on the moving, waltz-time plea of ‘All the Rage’. These are distinctly Costello rocker/ballad polarities, symptons of the man in best form, but it’s the songs that fall between the two styles that take Brutal Youth from excellent to exceptional. A controlled vocal/keyboard performance bursting into glorious chorus makes ‘Sulky Girl’ classic MacManus, and ‘Rocking Horse Road’, a song about Christchurch’s New Brighton, shows similar restraint and melodic brilliance.

There are songs that only mark time but they’d be winners by anyone else’s standards. It’s sufficient that with an album this good Elvis is not only pleasing himself but also those who’d given up on him. The great pretender is alive and well.

TALL DWARFS 3 EPs (Flying Nun)

GEORGE KAY

New Zealand’s coolest duo this side of Greer and Martin return with more of their demented, di-

vine hammerings. I also have the pleasure of announcing it as the best Tall Dwarfs work since the 1986 Throw A Sickie EP. This time Chris Knox and Alec Bathgate have struck the right balance of experimentation, variety, risk-taking and fine pop sensibilities. Don’t let the title mislead you: this isn’t three separate CD EPs in one package, just one CD theoretically divided into three sections: A Question of Medical Ethics, Up the Down Staircase and Sam’s Spaniel. Okey dokey?

Things start sweetly with the soulish pop of ‘For All the Walters of the World’ before ‘Entropy’ vigorously convulses along. Knox's voice is used to enhance the songs by sounding like that which he describes. On the anti-stoner song ‘Starry-Eyed and Woolly Brained’ he sounds dull and wholly unemotional. Yet on ‘Folding’ — about ageing I assume — he sounds haunted and on ‘Archaeopteryx’ like he's at the end of a painful wind-down to death. In other places the Dwarfs cover a wide and tasteful range of approaches and influences like the early 70s German drone rock of ‘Neusyland’, the bizarre sound montage ‘Two Dozen Lousy Hours’ and the Bono slagging, very Captain Beefheartian ‘Postmodern Deconstructivist Blues’. There’s also the bonus of Spiral Stairs and Bob from Pavement chipping on two songs. My advice to you is purchase and play, pleasure will pervade!

GRANT MCDOUGALL

PINK FLOYD The Division Bell (Columbia)

The machine is back in motion with the second post-Roger Waters studio recording, a mere seven years since Momentary Lapse of Reason. With a loose theme of human communicaion, The Division Bell has all the Floyd trademarks with particular emphasis on David Gilmour’s crystalline guitar work. Richard Wright’s keyboard and vocal presence is more dominant than on the previous over-compu-terised Pink project, yet the mix is so smooth that Nick Mason’s already subtle percussion is softened

further into the background. The only real criticism is that the album doesn’t have a strong identity. Early classics are freely borrowed from — it could almost be retitled Wish You Were An Animal On the Dark Side of the Wall. Inevitable comparisons aside, this is still a high quality piece of craftmanship and will no doubt sell by the squillion. Most of their American tour is already sold out and they are set to play here again in early 95. Their amazing concerts are legendary and most of this material will fit comfortably into their performance. The Division Bell is the sound we all know as Pink Floyd even though Syd Barrett had nothing to do with it and hasn’t been spotted chasing planes down Heathrow Airport runway for ages. GEOFF DUNN

PANTERA Far Beyond Driven (Eastwest Records)

Listening to Pantera’s latest offering is a bit like chewing on a brick of stale testosterone. Your fists clench involuntarily, your eyelids become heavy with blood and your stomach hangs in your gut like a cramped muscle. You become an animal on full alert. A swinging steel ball. A missile about to impact. Don't challenge me, man ... I’m amped. And all the oxygen up there does strange things to your

brain as well. All of a sudden Dimebag Diamond Darrell’s filthy chugging and spastic/genius lead work start to sound just damned fine. Then Vinnie hits you square in the face with his rap/rabid double kicking. Then Dimebag does it again. Then Vinnie boots in. Then Dimebag. Then Vinnie. Dimebag. Vinnie. Dime. Vin. DimVinDimVinDVDVDV . . .

AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH! And all the way through it Phil is screaming at the top of his lungs like an eight year old chucking a brain-haemorrhaging tantrum. “Venereal mother embrace the loss, kill that fuck to show him up, a fake fuck limp dick, I’m killing a friend, I’m shedding skin, driven and burning to rise beyond Jesus!” Yes, it’s a good album, albeit ‘samey’. And even though the lyrics are embarrassing it’ll sell millions and keep Pantera way at the top of the gangsta-chunk-metal heap.

LUNA Bewitched (Elektra)

JEREMY CHUNN

Luna’s second album Bewitched, pitches mainman Dean Wareham as a trans-atlantic Ray Davies for the slacker generation. His wry commentaries on 90s Americana are delivered in such a languid, disaffected manner it makes J. Mascis look like Gordon Gecko. Laid back? Try lines like “And though she followed me from Phoenix to California (all the way) I only want to watch the telly" (from ‘California (All the Way)’. “It doesn’t matter any more” intones Wareham in the same song, evoking the world-weary ambivalence of Lou Reed’s “I just don’t care at all” refrain from ‘Men of Good Fortune’.

And that’s a useful reference point. As opening act for the reformed Velvet Underground on their recent European jaunt, Luna have obviously soaked up a few Velvetisms. ‘Friendly Advice’ sounds like Loaded-era Velvets and comes complete with Sterling Morrison on guitar, a guest spot which he repeats on ‘Great Jones Street’.A

Bewitched really succeeds as a beguiling exercise in subtlety. Using simple devices, Luna are able to conjure magical results. The octave-leaping chorus of ‘Tiger Lily’, the oscillating guitar and brushed snare of the title track and the inexorable barre chord build-up of ‘Going Home’ are wonderful. Even if the occasional track wafts by aimlessly, Bewitched is an album of down-beat intimacy and profoundly understated charm.

MOTLEY CRUE (Elektra)

MARTIN BELL

It’s been three long, grungy years since they gave Vince Neil the boot and for a while there it was looking like it would be the last we saw of Motley. Fortunately the boys found John Corabi (ex the Scream) who not only has a fine set of lungs but also sports impressive credentials in the tattoo de-

partment. So who do the new Crue sound like? Well, mainly Motley Crue but with a better singer and they’re a lot heavier too. Check out tracks like ‘Uncle Jack’ and ‘Hammered’ (the LA version of ‘Mississippi Queen’) and you’ll hear that the proof is in the pudding. ‘Misunderstood’ would have to be one of the best musical arrangements this band have done. Apart from the closing ballad the rest of the album is the good old kick ass hard rock fans have come to expect from the Crue. It will be interesting to hear how Corabi takes on favourites like ‘Home Sweet Home’or ‘Dr Feelgood’ in concert but he’s done a mighty job on this album.

GEOFF DUNN

EVE’S PLUM Envy (Sony)

GREEN DAY Dookie (Reprise)

THE GREENBERRY WOODS Rappie Dapple (Sire)

Three relatively unknown American bands emerging from the “alternative” scene, starting with New York’s Eve’s Plum. Vocalist Colleen impresses as a New Age, left-field Debby Harry but this ain’t Blondie. Eve’s Plum are art school so guitars rumble and the songs don’t conform to predictable pop formula. Promising. If press kits are to be believed, Berkeley trio Green Day are meant to be delivering the promise of their first two independent albums on Dookie, their debut on a major label. Fourteen mostly three chord neck breaks on boredom, ‘Burnout’, self-

abuse, hate, insanity, doubt, sex and more boredom are threats not promises. Their obvious links to Sham 69 and the Ramones and their piss-take campus attitude keep things amusing but Dookie is hardly classic pop. Neither is the Greenberry Woods, although with veteran Andy Paley producing their Beatles/Byrds/ Big Star ambitions they don’t lack imagination or variety. From the directness of ‘Trampoline’ to more adventurous fare like ‘Adieu’ they do enough to avoid the preciousness of their album title even if they are still a long ways from originality. Quite sweet.

MORRISSEY Vauxhall and I (Parlophone)

GEORGE KAY

“There’s gonna be some trouble/A whole house will need re-building/and everyone I love in the house will recline on an analyst’s couch quite soon.” King Mozz is back on the throne. If Vauxhall had arrived after Viva Hate, Morrissey wouldn’t have been dragged over the media coals. The Smiths would have been allowed to rest in peace and people would have said ‘Johnny who?’ This is Morrissey’s best album, no question. It’s so audacious, full of decent tunes and well written that it’s easy to brandish references to the Smiths. But this is a typically solo Morrissey album, it’s just far better than anyone could have expected. Maybe it’s an age thing. At 34 he hardly looks like a gawky weed on the cover. And with the lyric sheet back (after being AWOL for an album) we can see that he’s left most of the ‘Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now’s behind him. With the addition of a new drummer and bass

player, the rockabilly has vanished. The jangly guitars of Boz Boorer and Alian Whyte hopscotch over kitchen sink dramas, like ‘Now My Heart is Full’ and ‘Billy Budd’, without a glam stomp in sight. ‘Spring Heeled Jim’ and ‘Speedway’ fuel Morrissey’s interest in the criminal mind. And the inviting pop of ‘The More You Ignore Me The Closer I Get’ and ‘Hold On To Your Friends’ entice you like all of his catchy killer singles. Steve Lilywhite’s production has merely given the gold its sheen. Vauxhall and I won’t just restore your faith in the man, it’ll make you a fan again. Do yourself a favour. JOHN TAITE

DAVID LEE ROTH Your Filthy Little Mouth (Reprise)

Dave could be losing it — and not just his hair! When Steve Vai quit Roth’s band after the Skyscraper tour most of the musicianship and excitement went with him. It’s only his second album since then and Your Filthy Little Mouth has a lot of fillings with just an occasional flash of diamond. ‘She's My Machine’ is a pretty good starter, being similar to Van Halen’s ‘Mean Street’, while songs like ‘Experience’ and ‘Sunburn’ are cruisey blues rock numbers well suited to the Dave of today. 'Big Train’ is one of the better ones too as it steam rolls along to typical Roth lyrics like “I'm going before the wine, women and song become beer, the old lady and TV". Elsewhere though there's corny country on a duet with Travis Tritt, an okay version of Willie Nelson’s 'Night Life' and a dreadfully unfunny attempt at reggae called ‘No Big Thing’. His band is adequate, Nile Rogers produces, but the songs should be better than this. Roth can be a great showman/ comedian/rock star but it’s going to take something more substantial if he wants to match his glory days of 77-88.

SMUDGE Manilow (Half A Cow) DIED PRETTY Trace (Columbia)

GEOFF DUNN

It’s rarely appreciated just how much the Lemonheads owe these Australian “cousins”,

Smudge. Nic Dalton, writer of the delightful ‘Kitchen’ on It’s A Shame About Ray, is currently playing bass with the Lemonheads and Tom Morgan co-wrote half of Come On Feel. . . with Dando. With connections that close it’s not surprising that Smudge play with the same off-hand, irresistible wigged-out energy and that Manilow is twenty-one tracks of quick-fire pop snapshots squeezed into just over forty minutes. They're all here right from a revamped version of ‘Superhero’, the legendary ‘Divan’ and new drop-out anthems like ‘lngrown' and ‘Ugly, Just Like Me’. If there’s room in your pad for the Lemonheads then Smudge should be right there with them. With their fifth album, Died Pretty are surely re-

garded as Sydney’s elder statesmen. Age and status aside, they are still one of the few bands anywhere that can write songs that sound majestic and passionate without being pompous or pretentious. Three years ago Doughboy Hollow sounded like their finest but Trace goes a step higher. ‘Harness Up’ is the passion we were talking about, ‘Headground’ has a chorus that pleads to be a single and ‘The Rivers' and ‘A State of Graceful Mourning’ show how artful they’ve become at writing evocative ballads. Impressive. GEORGE KAY I THE DENTISTS Behind the Door I Keep The Universe (East West With twelve tracks crammed into this album’s forty-five minute duration, the Dentists fall firmly into the "if you can’t say it in a three minute pop song, don’t say it at all” school. The songs all sound kinda retro in a 1960 s via mid-1980s sort of way, coming on like a cross between the Housemartins and Sneaky Feelings. The swirling tightly knit harmonies of ‘Brittle Sin’ and ‘Flowers’ and the goofy hummability of ‘Spaceman’ appeal —there’s no shortage of finely crafted tunes here. What is in short supply is inspiration, the Dentists preferring to retread (admittedly with some panache) musical paths mapped out by countless others before them. Couple that with lightweight production and occasional Morrissey-on-he-lium vocals and you’ve got an album which is so inoffensive it borders on the offensive. The Hitchcockian (that’s Robyn, not Alfred) liner notes are a real hoot — rampant English eccentricity run amok — but ultimately Behind the Door I Keep The Universe is only mildly diverting and at best pleasantly irrelevant. MARTIN BELL I ROBERT FRIPP/ BRIAN ENO The Essential Fripp and Eno (Venture) Fripp and Eno — two sides to the same coin. Fripp, the virtuoso guitarist, seemingly able to play one note for hours and Eno, the non-musician’s musician and occasional producer to the stars. Their involvement in ‘‘popular music” has never been easy to pigeonhole but their wildly divergent careers have, on occasion, caused them to arrive at the same place at the same time with some with some quite unearthly results.

The first occasion was 1972’s No Pussyfooting, a one track per side album which is reproduced in its entirety here. Put in historical context, you begin to realise just how groundbreaking this work is. The twenty-one minute ‘Heavenly Music Corporation’ not only set the scene for the ambient explosion, it also recalled the frenzied cacophony of the Velvet Underground. Others, notably George Martin and Brian Wilson, had experimented with the studio but noone had played it like an instrument. By looping and delaying Fripp’s electronically treated guitar on two tape recorders, they were able to create an aural landscape fundamentally constant yet constantly changing. Eno remarked, “repetition is a form of change” — here was the proof. With the exception of the last four tracks (techno candyfloss called ‘Healthy Colours l-lV) this CD provides an essential document of the primitive beginnings of a musical genre.

MARTIN BELL

STEREOLAB Transient Random-Noise Burst With Announcements (Eiektra)

Stereolab's first album Peng! was one of the sleepinggiants of 1992. And this, their rather technically titled major label debut, finds the band operating in a simlilar sphere but with an expanded lineup (more guitars, more keyboards, but sans ex-Chill Martin Kean). Transient Random-Noise Bursts With Announcements has a title seemingly more appropriate to the pages of What Hi-Fi magazine, which is actually quite befitting. The album's liner notes and track listing could be lifted straight from the sleeve of the test records audiophiles used to use on their beloved turntables, before they were replaced by the generic black boxes we know as CD players. So youget tracks with names like Tone Burst, Analogue Rock and Lock Groove Lullaby — hypnotic mantras which would make bores like Verve green with envy. Analogue Rock sounds like a 70s production hatchet job with the treble blown off the top and the bass sucked out of it.

From the gentle intoxication of Pack Yr Romantic Mind to the throbbing, nose-bleed inducing, onechord masterpiece that is Jenny Ondioline, Stereolab’s aural assault course knows no bounds. They take more chances on this album than most bands take in a career. That every track is not a total success is inherent in the nature of what the band are attempting. Technology junkies be warned — Stereolab are back — analogue rules, OK.

MARTIN BELL

VARIOUS ARTISTS Toughter Than Tough The Story of Jamaican Music (Mango

The history of reggae is as ancient as that of the blues but it’s only in the last 30 years that Jamaican music has come into its own. By the time the little island gained independence in 1962, its musicians were ready to stop copying their American idols and create a sound of their own. So begins this well researched and beautifully packaged four album collector’s item, which no serious student of contemporary music should be without.

Disc One covers 1958-67 when a handful of very primitive recording studios started to blossom and canny entrepreneurs like Clement Dodd and Duke Reid realised there was a buck to be made. The Folkes Brothers’ ‘Oh Caroline’ from Prince Buster’s first session of 1960 marks Jamaican music’s departure from American flavoured R&B with its use of traditional drums. Contributions from veterans like Owen Gray and Laurel Aitken display the loping rhythmic pattern that was evolving into the Blue Beat, which in turn metamorphasised into Ska. The rhythms were speeding up to the demands of the dancers and then in 1964 a young record seller named Chris Blackwell took a teenager named Millie Small to England, cut a well-arranged cover of an R&B tune and ‘My Boy Lollipop’ made Number One worldwide. But this sugary pop song failed to convey the underlying menace of the new beat. The street toughs or Rudies followed their gangster heroes and it was the violence spawned by their rivalry which prompted hits like ‘AI Capone’ and ‘Tougher Than Tough'. Ska was succeeded by the slower, sexier rock steady, fronted by charming crooners like Alton Ellis and Ken Boothe. And somewhere amidst all this were three youngsters known as the Wailing Wailers, rudies whose time was coming.

Disc Two spans 1968-74 when reggae acquired its name and its distinctive scratchy rhythm. Much credit must go to ace producer and all-round loony Lee “Scratch” Perry, who put the Wailers together with some musicians of his acquaintance and started fiddling with the controls. The music gained a harder edge and a new attitude; Desmond Dekker sang about the yearning for roots and identity of the people whose ancestors were slaves (‘The Israelites’), the Maytals chanted down prison life (‘5446’), the Melodians lifted words from the Bible (‘Rivers of Babylon’) and Jimmy Cliff starred in a movie which glorified a rebellious gunman (‘The Harder They Come’). U-roy cut a DJ remake of an Alton Ellis hit and rapping began to ‘Wake the Town’. Disc Three (1975-81) charts the rise of Rastafari

as the driving force. The Wailers split and Bob Marley was transformed into a godlike, spliff-smoking, psalm-quoting figurehead. Being half-European he moved easily in orthodox rock circles and even those who couldn’t fathom a word he said were enchanted by the rhythms pumped out by simply the best reggae band ever assembled. Marley’s success brought flow-on benefits for even rootsier performers like Burning Spear and sublime vocal groups such as the Mighty Diamonds, the Heptones and Culture. Meanwhile, advancing swiftly through the ranks were Sly Dunbar and Robbie Shakespeare, a highly professional rhythm section who cut their teeth in a studio band called the Revolutionaries and who in 1980 pointed the way forward with Black Uhuru’s ‘Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner'. The following year Marley was dead and reggae still mourns his loss. Without him the Roots sound began to decline and the Dancehall reasserted its dominance. Disc Four (1982-93) showcases Jamaican music today with all its strengths and weaknesses. While old hands like Gregory Isaacs and Johnny Osbourne make a virtue of longevity, so much of the current talent has a transitory appearance. Yellowman, the world’s most unlikely sex symbol, drew the dancehall crowds with crude innuendo chanted over rhythm tracks that began their lives in the 60s and 70s. The imitators came thick and fast, but only the macho posturing of Shabba Ranks has found crossover fortune. Producers like Junjo Lawes, King Jammy, Bobby Digital and Gussie Clarke are the real success story of this era, when electronic sampling took control. Their rhythms employ fewer musicians and are reused countless times, pleasing money conscious record companies no end. In five years, who will remember performers like Supercat, Admiral Bailey, Wayne Smith or Red Dragon? The wheel turns full circle with Shaggy’s smash 1993 remake of ‘Oh Carolina’, whose rhythm is much closer to the US than JA. It would be nice to think that the music has embarked on a voyage of rediscovery but somehow I doubt it. This is an honest and comprehensive overview of Jamaican music but that doesn’t eliminate the need for some grizzles. Women are sadly underrepresented. Where is Judy Mowatt’s ‘Black Woman’? Or Susan Cadogan’s ‘Nice and Easy’, which inspired the highly popular Lover’s Rock? Why the soft-pedal approach to marijuana? Everyone who listens to this music knows its significance, especially during the Rasta dominance of the 70s. The only songs here specifically about herb are ‘Pass the Tushing Peng’ and ‘Under Me Sleng Teng’ with a mere nudge-nudge reference in the liner notes. Jah Lion’s ‘Colombia Colly’ and the Diamond’s ‘Pass the Kouchie’ are shamefully omitted and pictures of limp-looking leaves are just a cop-out. Marley is represented by ‘Simmer Down’ and the lethargic live version of ‘No Woman No Cry’, both of which appear on the Songs of Freedom compilation that sits logically alongside this release. Still, Tougher Than Tough fills a big space in modern record collections. It’s only available on CD so far and priced close to SIOO, with copies either pre-ordered or selling fast. DUNCAN CAMPBELL

RED RED GROOVEY 25 (Continuum) MESSIAH 21st Century Jesus (Liberation) Red Red Groovey are a strange bunch of trancy dance practitioners. They’re a trio out of Minneapolis and the name of their game is psychedelia but they lend themselves to some horrendous comparisons. Their opening track ‘The View’ sounds like a dance 8525, ‘lbiza Bar’ sounds like Air Supply with some E and a drum machine, ‘Come to Me Ecstasy’ throws together listener friendly dance with some rather Manchester guitar lines. ‘The Time Has Come (To Go Out of Your Mind)’ hints at a new wave of acid house. There’s all measure of sitars, screeching metal, samples and minute long ambient instrumentals between tracks. It’s 60s psychedelia resurrected through 90s technology — a cliched concept that has been done to death which shouldn’t work as well as this. On the other side of the Atlantic, England’s Messiah have set their gaze on the future and they've come up with the best techno album since Altern B’s Full On Mask Hysteria. In a style where careers crumble as fast as new technology develops, Messiah have a very apt moniker. Ali Ghan and Mark-John Davies’ strength is their ability to explore techno variants while maintaining the exhilaration of wooze synth, cylon speak and racing beats. The hits are all drastically different. ‘Temple Of Dreams’ with its This Mortal Coil sample, ‘Thunderdome’ with its thundering crash-endos, their first release ‘20,000 Hard Core Members’ and the rather brilliant version of Donna Summer’s ‘I Feel Love’. And on ‘Creator’ the Cult’s lan Astbury points out exactly why techno is an anti-vocal music form. 21st Century Jesus should elevate rave techno to the same level of acclaim as ambient (the Orb etc). Pacey, exciting and cerebral. Have faith. JOHN TAITE

WARNERS Sitting Pretty (Wildside)

The Warners on CD is a beautiful thing, loud, simple, and dangerous with all the subtlety of a brick to the face but a beautiful thing nonetheless. Ten years of misbehaviour condensed onto seven inches of power plastic and after a decade of gig mayhem there are few people who have not enjoyed

the Warners first hand so here’s the album review for the uninitiated — all four of you. Sitting Pretty starts at a sprint with ‘Bad City’, layered guitar, racing punk drumming and a vocal style that growls, shouts and bites, this is what gets the slammers slamming and the pub-owners shitting bricks hence the pace is breakneck for the rest of the CD. Anthems such ‘Dance, Dance Disco’, ‘Speed Trap’, ‘Man In Black’, ‘Bastard Sons’ and everyone’s fave ‘Satellite Surfing’ have faithfully been included for your home kareoke pleasure. The Warners cocktail is equal parts Suicidals/ Ramones with a hint of the Cramps served up with extra decibels on a bed of black leather, Lion Red

and Jack’n’Coke. The Allen Stephenson/Jon Baker secrete ingredient differentiates the Warners from their peers and at the same time has maintained that special ten year Warner flavour. For optimum appreciation be generous with the volume (something that should have happened at the mastering stage). HANS HOEFLICH I CHEAP TRICK Woke Up With A Monster (Warner Bros.) A lace and lingerie laden lady with a tattoo on her shoulder lying prone before a face-fully-painted and white glove wearing clown who may or may not have paid for her services (around $145 at today’s prices, just ask “CJ" Clark) adorns the cover. It’s not clear which of them is the monster, but it does indicate that Cheap Trick have eschewed the syrup that sunk them in the 80s for the spunk they splashed around in the 70s; the twisted, halcyon days of ‘He’s A Whore,’ the exuberant Live At Budokan, and the cool-song-title of ‘The House Was Rockin’ (With Domestic Problems).’ Like recent tourists Redd Kross, Cheap Trick bury Beatles hooks and harmonies beneath guitar fuzz and retard humour. Like Kiss they had an amazing, inventive and totally warped marketing strategy and packaging concept active from their get-go, when they toured supporting Kiss. At the Redd Kross concert it was a Kiss cover (‘Deuce’) which got the biggest response, possibly because lots of people didn’t know it was a Kiss song so they weren’t too embarrassed to leap around to it. On Woke Up With A Monster, Cheap Trick frequently return to their late-7Os melodic Zeitgeist, especially on ‘You’re All I Wanna Do,’ whilst the podgy, drooling clown looks way too wholesome and normal to be Gene Simmons.

Unlike Urge Overkill, who’ve been called “the new Cheap Trick,” the old Cheap Trick have, in ‘Surrender,’ an all-time-it’ll-stand-up-to-anyone classic song. At the Redd Kross concert, to my surprise, I didn’t see any heartfelt it’s-a-tribute-to-Kurt T-shirts, but maybe Neil Young could join Cheap Trick and get a song out of it: ‘Grunge is gone, he died in vain/This is the story of Kurt Cobain.’ Or maybe Don Henley could replace Kurt in Nirvana: ‘Out on the road to-

day I saw a Sup Pop sticker on a station wagon/A little voice inside said indie rockers inject drugs by the gallon/l thought I knew teen spirit once, but Kurt was blind/Those days are gone forever, oh well, whatever, nevermind.’ ANDREW PALMER I OTIS RUSH Ain’t Enough Cornin’ In (Mercury) For a blues artist who has probably been through as many record companies as guitars, this title is not an understatement. Otis Rush arrived in urban Chicago from rural Mississippi in the early 50s and along with Buddy Guy and the late Magic Sam set the musical standard for what has become known as "post-modernism Chicago blues”. Rush was first recorded in his late teens by Willie Dixon for Cobra. He matured his post-rural sound in the big city at an early age with a combination of fluid, economical guitar blues and insightful lyricism delivered with a vocal virtuosity rarely heard in the blues genre, plus a singing range which went up to an effortless falsetto. This style was to strongly influence other blues singers like Bobby Bland and Buddy Guy.

This new set finds Rush still in fine voice and vocal range. The style is as fluid and floating as ever, no over playing or all-star outings, just well arranged and superbly played songs with a tight and tidy backing. Part of Rush’s distinctive style comes from playing left handed on a conventionally strung strat bending notes to match his emotive range of penetrative vocals. Even though there are only two Rush originals here he certainly knows the good shit — Little Milton, Albert and BB King, Ray Charles, Sam

Cooke. Well worth a listen tho’ it took me at least ten plays to appreciate it. More immediately exciting is Right Place Wrong Time recorded in 1971 for Capitol but not released until 1976 on Bullfrog when Rush, as part of his ongoing contractural problems, had to buy back his own masters. He Ain't Got Enough Cornin' In so support him. He’s earned it. JOHN PILLEY I TEX PERKINS, DON WALKER, CHARLIE OWEN Sad But True (Poiydor) Someone younger might dismiss this as a bunch of old windbags, tattoos fading, bemoaning their state of existence. Sometimes it is. And it’s not very nice to women either. Maybe it’s the country music setting that does that to a man. All that aside it does contain some fine tales. The men are ... Don Walker. He wrote the westie anthem ‘Cheap Wine’ while in Cold Chisel. Jimmy only sang it. He writes most of the material here along with Tex Perkins. He’s also been kicking round Oz a while. Recently seen here with the Dead Sea, his hard band lineage runs all the way to Darwin. I don’t know where Charlie Owens comes from but he’s here too, contributing the wonderfully wiggy instrumental ‘Dead Dog Boogie’. Walker and Perkins write the bulk of the songs with Perkins coming off second best. I just can’t stomach lines like ‘‘l won’t do to you what I done to her” or "I told her I loved her but I lied”. Still, the hard bastard I s’pose. Walker, however, flies. Here is a craftsman at work. I liked his opening lines “I’ve been in and out of trouble, mainly in”, the fine romance of ‘The Girl With the Bluebird’ and more painful ‘Louise’. It’s that age thing again. Older

people are better at having far more fucked up relationships. One of the more real renditions on the consequences of all night drinking, ‘Sitting In A Bar’ is hilarious. In its worst moments Sad But True is as insidious as Dire Straits but it also hides the proverbial gem and hits long patches of being very good company indeed. BARBIE I YES Talk (Victory) Jon Anderson, Trever Rabin, Chris Squire, Alan White and Tony Kaye — that’s who is now officially in Yes. The 1991 Union tour featured the eight integral members from the group’s incredible quarter of a century history. Since then Bill Bruford has returned to his jazz group Earthworks, Rick Wakeman went back to England and released several albums and Steve Howe was urged to continue his own musical career. So what we have is the same Yes men who created the excellent9ol2s and Big Generator in the 80s. Unbelievably, they’ve surpassed these efforts with Talk. Trevor Rabin had a lot of influence, being guitarist, vocalist, keyboardist, songwriter, producer and engineer and he’s done a marvellous job. The breathtaking, multi-layered sound spans seven tracks from the techno hard rock single 'The Calling’ to the sixteen minute extravaganza ‘Endless Dream’. This epic is in three parts-- an impossibly difficult instrumental intro; the main work and final theme. Not since ‘Awaken’ in 1977 have Yes constructed such a grand soundscape. Rabin has meticulously sculpted the album using a revolutionary new invention called Digital Performer which can store and access sound bytes at will. Therefore he can take the best performance and place it into the mix wherever he likes. The combination of modern technology with the unique abilities and textured vocal harmonies of Yes is luxurious listening for fans of innovative artistic rock. Where Will You Be’ has dexterous flamenco guitaring from clever Trevor and delicate percussive work by Alan White. In contrast, ‘Real Love’ is a rhythmically heavy giant with powerful bass from Chris Squire and a great Rabin lead break which pans from left to right. All compositions are by Anderson/Rabin (except two co-written by Squire) and this is the first time the two have collaborated directly on words and music. Jon Anderson is in his element with these songs and his alto tenor is in top form. He and the other Yes founders Squire and organist Tony Kaye have experimented and progressed in new directions, evolving to yet another higher level. GEOFF DUNN JIMMY ROGERS Ludella " (Antone's) ROBERT NOLL Blues Mission (Precious Artists) The Rogers album is from 1990, the Noll from 1992 - both are available here to coincide with local tours. Before we begin: Jimmy Rogers is not

Jimmie Rodgers, the yodelling cowboy, and Robert Noll is not Rocky Knoll - that’s a grassy patch in Albert Park.

As the only surviving member of Muddy Waters first all-conquering Chess-era band, Jimmy Rogers can claim to be one of the most influential musicians alive. With Waters at Chess he moved the Queen past the Bishop to check mate the Russian champion Boris Pissedoffsky, thus prolonging the cold war by a couple decades. He also recorded a song called 'Rollin’ Stone,’ which another band named themselves after and the rest is history etc. Ludella is a combination studio and live revisiting of some of Rogers’ successful ’sos sides after leaving Waters’ band and going solo. Under the guidance of Kim Wilson, and with a band including Pinetop Perkins and Hubert Sumlin, they roll through ‘Rock This House,’ which tells of a "tall legged woman, built for speed," and ‘Sloppy Drunk,’ what you turn into when you can’t catch the tall legged woman, built for speed. ‘Gold Tailed Bird’ is a cool “low-down dirty blues” about a gold tailed bird, built for speed. Ludella is authentic mid-’sos South Side of Chi-town blues - none of it sounds remotely original, figure that’s because this is the original. Within the blues-rock guitar crank idiom, which mostly springs from the Sour Cream & Chives-era Eric Clapton, the general rule (from Charles Shaar Murray) is that guys with their heaviest foot in the blues rather than the rock are necessarily better. Robert Noll is such a person. One of the best "extended noodling” guitar solos I’ve witnessed from a live stage was Albert Collin’s second guitarist in '92. That wasn’t Robert Noll (I can’t remember who it was), but ten years earlier it was the band position Noll held. So he could conceivably match it, and Blues Mission contains plenty of evidence for this. Stinging instrumentals like ‘Cool Zone’ and ‘Deep Freeze’ pay homage to the Iceman, the former benefiting from double-tracked rhythm and lead guitar parts, with an impossibly raunchy tone on the leads; whipping, cutting, built for speed. ANDREW PALMER I RUSH Counterparts (Atlantic) A more direct sounding collection of songs than their last few albums. Counterparts sees Rush doing away with most of the computer keyboard extras to concentrate on guitar, bass and drums (as they started out twenty years ago). The return of producer Peter Collins has contributed to the more refined sound but don’t expect many surprises either. The instrumental ‘Leave That Thing Alone' is a brilliant display of musicianship focusing on Geddy Lee and it's easy to hear why he’s been a major influence on two generations of bassists. Love ‘em or loathe 'em, Rush never slip below their own high standards and Counterparts is no exception. .. GEOFF DUNN I ANGELIQUE KIDJO Aye (Polygram) West African Angelique Kidjo’s latest album Aye (meaning “at life’s beginning”) looks set to widen her audience. Following on from the modest success of Logozo, this album is more consistent and fits more comfortably into the dance music category. Half the material was recorded in the US at Paisley Park. I prefer the jazzier numbers with the real brass section from the London session but both are tight and funky. There’s also a couple of ballads provid-

ing a nice balance of pace and energy. If there is a downside to the album it’s a playing down of the African rhythms which were prominent on the previous two albums. It probably won’t appeal to the world music purist for that reason but then the African themes are still powerfully expressed in the lyrical content sung in Kidjo’s native Fon language (and fortunately translated into both French and English in the CD booklet). The themes continue to express Kidjo’s concerns with social justice but also explore traditional teachings from her own culture. And while the lyrics are well worth a look as you listen to the album you don't need to read them to understand the feelings she is expressing. NICKY JONES