albums

Rip It Up, Issue 208, 1 December 1994, Page 28

albums

Well it wasn’t enough for Kurt to shoot himself, he also had to commit an even bigger sin and do an unplugged session (this seems to bother some people), just like Eric Clapton and... whoever else it was that did unplugged stuff.

Bully, bully to that. This is an unplugged record by a band that knows how to write some of the best rock on the planet, and how to convert their songs into beautiful, powerful acoustic versions. Kurt’s voice is in top form. It flowing from his lips in perfect, unique Cobain form. It’s pure emotion. It’s real. The record consists of half Nirvana songs and half covers, including Eugene Kelly’s ‘Jesus Doesn’t Want Me For A Sunbeam’, which has bassist Krist Novoselic playing warped church organ sounding keyboards, and ‘The Man Who Sold the World’, which Kurt does great justice to — it’s a fantastic, melodic piece and possibly the most moving on the album. The Meat Puppets join Nirvana to play versions of Meat Puppets songs ‘Oh Me’, ‘Plateau’ and ‘Lake of Fire’, and Leadbelly's ‘Where Did You Sleep Last Night’.

Nirvana are one of the few bands who actually have rock songs full of melody, therefore their songs are just as powerful and moving when done acoustically, simply in a quieter, more serene way. This allows the beauty and uniqueness of Kurt’s voice to shine through possibly even more powerfully than it does on the ‘rock’ versions of the songs. ‘Pennyroyal Tea’ is the best example, being just Kurt and his guitar. If Kurt and Nirvana’s music meant

anything to you, then you’ll appreciate this.-The only thing that spoils this is the audience in between and over some of the songs going “woooahhh” and “yeeahh”, and clapping over zealously. The whole audience probably consists of record company types who tend to do such things. Our editor has been known to walk into the office while this is on and go: ‘Owhh, Luke Hurley again...’ but I think he was joking. SHIRLEY CHARLES

DAVE DOBBYN Twist (Sony)

It’s funny what can happen to someone in a year. In 1993 Dave Dobbyn returned from Australia and gave us the dark and introspective Lament For The Numb, an album that was eventually explained as a portrait of a musician experiencing a period of severe self doubt and depression. Twelve months later, and on the shelf is the sweetness and light of his third solo album, Twist. Produced by Neil Finn, it’s an album from a man who’s enjoying rediscovering New Zealand’s particular style of green (the scenery, not the plant). Lyrics paint vivid pictures, especially on the gorgeous ballad ‘lt Dawned On Me’, and on the trademark Dobbyn rocker ‘What Do You Really Want’. Elsewhere, he’s quick to display his faithful melodic touch — on the Crowded House-like opener ‘Lap Of The Gods’, on the dreamy ‘Naked Flame’, where Emma Paki’s backing vocals make a major impact, and on the awesome first single ‘Language.’ Twist is Dobbyn pushing personal boundaries — most evident during the weird guitar conversation on ‘Gifted’ and during the spooky, smouldering ‘Betrayal’ — and if this keeps up, the flash of his brilliance can only get brighter. JOHN RUSSELL

WEEN Chocolate and Cheese (White/Mushroom)

Politically correct Ween are not, and this is why I love them so. There is much fun to be had at being able to take an ugly situation and turn it into a funny song. Ween do this brilliantly, and disguise it so well some poor, sorry folks (70-90% maybe) are destined to never understand them and there lovely, sick little world. Ween have utilised the fact that they are actually very good songwriters and, unlike most'of the songs on Pure Guava, they actually sing without the aid of wacky distortion techniques

(mostly). Various singing styles are used, from falsetto notes on the very Prince-like, bitchin’ ballad ‘Freedom of 76’, soft antagonising sweetness on ‘Baby Bitch’ (which sweetly croons at the end ‘Fuck you, you stinkin’ ass ho”), to deep, mysterious voices on ‘Candi’ and ‘Spinal Meningitis (Got Me Down)’. The latter is a song about a-not-very-amusing-subject— a kiddie with spinal meningitis — which goes: ‘Stinky vaseline mommy! / Please don’t let me die.’ Cripes, good luck to them with the Concerned Parents Society. ‘Roses Are Free’ has a nice tinkly Christmassy kind of feel, with some simple everyday sensibilities for you to think about: ‘Take a wrinkled raisin and do with it what you will / Eat plenty of lasagne ‘til you know that you’ve had your fill.’ Mm, yes. Then there’s ‘The HIV Song’, where bouts of music are interspersed with the Weens shouting the two-word lyrics, being ‘AIDS’ and ‘HIV’. Not a hard song to get to know. ‘Mister, Would You Please Help My Pony’ is the current favo. Calling it quirky is not appropriate enough. It has a nice, circusy, merry-go-round feel (maybe it’s the ‘pony’ association), and the lyrical content tickles my fancy no end. It also sometimes makes one want to kind of jump around and pretend you’re a rabbit — it’s uncanny: ‘Mister, would you please help my pony / He’s over there behind the tree / He’s down in the dirt / Will ya help him? / I think it’s his lung.’ The girls at work, we laugh and laugh over this one, and yell to each other: “It’s our song,” and wacko things like that.

This album tends to make one a little overexcited at times. The music is varied/complex/happy/scary/mellow/psychedelic and everything else as well and it always brings a smile to one’s face. It’s that simple. Ween don’t do music to make you feel sentimental or emotionally charged or have statements of heavy political weight for the kids. It’s funny, not painful and not full of the seriousness that plagues so many bands — that’s all. SHIRLEY CHARLES

THE CHILLS Heavenly Pop Hits: The Best Of The Chills (Flying Nun)

A Chills best of is never going to please all fans. Everyone will have favourites that have been omitted, but how can you argue against any of the 16 glorious moments assembled here?

Heavenly Pop Hits is a deliberately ‘uptem-

po’ collection of Chills music, featuring all 10 singles released by the band, plus a selection of sentimental, fast favourites like ‘Never Never Go’, ‘This Is The Way’ and ‘Look For The Good In Others’.

Arguably the quintessential Chills song is ‘Wet Blanket’ (remixed here and with new vocals), not only is it the best unrequited love song ever written, it contains every element that made the Chills the ultimate pop band - beauty, understated simplicity and a melody that’s definitely not from this place. The first 1,000 copies of Heavenly Pop Hits, come with a bonus CD entitled Ice Picks, six bsides/rarities, including a live version of ‘Green Eyed Owl’ and the criminally ignored ‘I Wish I Could Do Without You’, from the Soft Bomb sessions. Listen to this album, and think about what hasn’t been included, and it’s just staggering that one person has the imagination to create pop songs of such a consistently perfect standard. You can’t do without this. JOHN RUSSELL

I SUEDE DOG MAN STAR (Nude / Sony) All the love and poison of London, ya say. Well, Suede have always been an acquired taste. First time round they were all Ziggy references, glam guitars and pompous Englishness, with clever, formulaic, indie pop hits and smoothies. Dog Man Star is more about opulent layers of melody, intricate structuring, experimental sound stretching and grandiose grace. It’s big, real big. The sheer

over-the-topness could’ve gone horribly wrong, but it would seem that Suede (Mark I) have carried it off in the way Brett Anderson’s lyrics deserve.

The battle march of ‘lntroducing the Band’ and the first single, ‘We Are the Pigs’, sets the underlying theme of a frustrated, powerless youth culture. Smashed dreams of idols lost (‘Heroine’ about Monroe, ‘Daddy’s Speeding' about Dean) mix with the large quota of doomed suburban romances. ‘The Wild Ones’, succulent, passionate and beautiful, is the key to the musical direction within Dog Man Star. While Bernard Butler’s intricate guitar does battle with a string section, Anderson flails: “We’ll go from the bungalows where the debts still grow each day / We’ll shine like the morning and sin in the sun — if you stay.” There’s no fence straddling. You’ll either hate it or be where the grass is greener. The last half of the album shows just how far Suede have come in a year. ‘The Two Of Us’, piano led, gives us Anderson in stunning vocal form. ‘Black or Blue’ is sweet and sour sorrow, like Khachaturian’s ‘Adagio’ from Sparticus (The Onedin Line theme) for indie guitars. The sky-rise build of ‘Asphalt World’ is motorways ahead of most poignant moments on Suede, yet it only sets us up for the symphonic ‘Still Life’.

What Dog Man Star lacks in pop hits, it makes up for in crafted elegant songs, which should shut up Suede’s ‘all hype’ detractors for a bit. But did the Butler do it? JOHN TAITE I CHUG Sassafras (Flying Nun) You can’t deny your past. Chug don’t try to; sounding like a mish-mash of the Goblin Mix, Look Blue Go Purple and the 3Ds, with some Snapper thrown in. They’ve released an album that is immediately listenable, but not particularly unique to the Nun trained ear. In New Zealand, Chug are going to be seen as 3Ds replacements if the originals all happen to tragically die in a plane crash. Chug didn’t actually help differentiate themselves from the 3Ds by using David Mitchell as guitarist on their recent tour.

The boys fight amongst themsblves over who is going to be David Mitchell and who is going to be Thurston Moore, but it’s Norma O’Malley who sounds the best, her sweet vocals contrasting with the chugging rhythmic verses. The Snapperish ‘Golden Mile’ is a showcase

for that particular style of repetition, with ‘Sylvia’ and ‘Sassafras’ following the same formula. Throw in the distorted pop of songs like ‘Witches’ and ‘Sometimes’, and the twisted R ’n’ B of ‘Wimple’, and you’ve covered the album’s territory. There are tons of good arrangements — the boy vocals have that ability to hang precariously just off the edge of the note, the guitars distort and feedback throughout, the keyboards swirl and dirge and the bass wanders up and down its parts. Everything seems to be. in place, but it fails the spark to lift it above the sum of its parts. DARREN HAWKES I LOVES UGLY CHILDREN Cold Water Surf (Flying Nun) And now a message from our sponsors. Loves Ugly Children release their first EP for Flying Nun. Their new sound really does get in. It’s fresh. It’s now. It’s you. Do you really think you can make it through the 90s without owning at least one copy of Cold Water Surf? Don’t become the laughing stock of your neighbourhood by missing out on Cold Water Surfs frenetic, jagged, spiky, pointed, barbed (thanks Roget) power-pop. Cold Water Surf delivers more powerful pop, lush guitars and lyrical wit than any other contemporary b(r)ands. Not one, not two, not three, not even four, but five great songs. Buy now, stocks can't last, and kids, remember, Santa likes kiwi music too. KEVIN LIST I NEIL DIAMOND Live In America (Sony) Neil Diamond has released more live albums than many present-day artists have made studio ones. The best is still his first, the Hot August Night album, recorded in 72, but this double CD set shows he hasn’t lost the art of working a crowd. Beginning with the fanfare of ‘America’, it’s virtually a greatest hits package, with Diamond powering through ‘I Am ... I Said’, ‘Forever In Blue Jeans’, ‘Song Sung Blue’, ‘Kentucky Woman’, ‘Sweet Caroline’, ‘Cherry Cherry’, a stirring version of ‘You Don't Bring Me Flowers' and a further 24 obvious crowd pleasers. The major disappointments are the studio overdubs and the polished production, that can render the odd song almost lifeless. Realistically, this album is a purchase suitable for the fanatical fan only. For a truly ‘going off’ live document, pick-up his first. JOHN RUSSELL

I LYLE LOVETT I Love Everybody (Sony) Although it’s likely to be overshadowed by his increasingly public life, I Love Everybody is a very wonderful album. Gone are the big bands and gospel extravagance of his previous two records, with Lovett opting this time for a simple, acoustic based ensemble. The 18 songs on show range from jealous odes to a boy with skinny legs, to a tribute to penguins (‘Penguins

are so sensitive to my needs,’ sings Lyle), to a smutty song about the attractions of a record store employee. It is like being stuck at a table with someone and not being quite sure whether they're a dangerous psychopath or just a sentimental drunk. Interspersed throughout are

some of the most affecting ballads of Lovett’s career in ‘Just The Morning’ and ‘Old Friend’; the juxtaposition is, I think, part of the plan. The same guy who can sing a tender romantic ballad like ‘Moon On My Shoulder’ can also pen and sing (in ‘Hello Grandma’) a song about paedophilia, or as Lyle puts it himself at one

point: ‘Look around, and you will see / This world is full of creeps like me.’ If at times he’s a little too smart for his own good, his humour and his heart triumph. The thing is, by the sounds of I Love Everybody they don’t seem to be particularly healthy. Yes, a wonderfully nasty little album. GREG FLEMING I SUICIDAL TENDENCIES Suicidal For Life (Sony) I'm in my room listening to Suicidal For Life and my mom comes in and she says: “We’re worried about you son, we’re worried about what you’re listening to and we think your on drugs.” And I go: “Don’t worry Mom, I’m OK, I just want a Pepsi.” But Dad comes in as well, and he says: “Son, we’re here to advise you like the sticker on the front of that filth you’re poisoning your mind with says.” And so we all sit down in my room and listen to the classic, well produced speed metal of Suicidal For Life and Dad says: “It’s just like the last one.” But Mom reckons it’s a bit mellower and I’m going: “It could be awesome but for all the annoying fiddly solos that detract from the Mogadonish metal.”

Still, I’m real glad Suicidal Tendencies took the time off from their busy ‘slag Rage Against The Machine’ campaign to even make another record. As we listen, Dad starts to get real agitated at all the improper language being used and I say to him: “Hey Dad, it’s the lingo of the street you dig. It don’t have the same impact if they sing about ‘not giving a monkey’s’ or ‘no bullpoos’.” Dad’s not having a bar of it and decides censorship is the only answer. “Son, with a little remastering the whole family could enjoy life in the streets the way it really is, even lovely old grandma.” Incensed at Dad’s un-American attitude to free speech, I pull out my Uzi and proceed to dust off my olds. “‘Cause I'm not crazy, they’re the one's that are crazy, they just kept bugging me, and all I wanted was one goddamn motherflippin’ Pepsi..” KEVIN LIST I MADONNA Bedtime Stories (Warners) Sadly, a new Madonna album is past being an event, and Bedtime Stories is no exception. She no longer has the ability to generate the frenzied hype that surrounded her from the days of True Blue until the end of the Blonde Ambition Tour. And it’s not just a case of familiarity breeding contempt. Madonna has forgotten how to write a good song. The last truly great piece of work she produced was ‘Justify My Love', and that was penned by Kravitz. It’s a sorry state of affairs. On Bedtime Stories, Madonna’s in love, rather than groaning through the throes of fake lust that consigned Erotica to a home in a place called Dogsville. Consequently, this album hardly has a pulse. It’s ballad city. Now Smokey can get away with doing this, ‘cause he’s got the tunes, but Madonna and her team of writers, including Babyface and Herbie Hancock, have amassed a collection of bores. There’s no point in even mentioning song titles as none deserve the honour of distinction. Perhaps the failure of Bedtimes Stories is due to a brilliant pop singer wanting to be viewed as a serious ‘artist’. Where’s the logic in that? What’s wrong with being a brilliant pop singer? The sooner she returns to writing slices of heaven like ‘Dress You Up’ and ‘Lucky Star’, the better. JOHN RUSSELL I MELVINS Stoner Witch (Atlantic) A Melvins album is always a good time to wax lyrical about rock, spelt ROCK. They revel in the fact they are a loud, slow and overweight power trio. Leave subtlety and angst for the guys who want to get all sullen about their photo being in Rolling Stone. This is a different trip altogether. Stoner Witch is all about grabbing hold of as much power as possible and doing what you can. Don’t be thinking this is some Pantera/Biohazard style stompathon though. These guys are far too clever for that. At no time does this slip into the dictatorial screaming associated with most heavy rock nowadays. The Melvins seem to be more con-

cerned with just slowly crushing with sheer bass heavy weight. For every rockin’-out, foot-on-the-monitor, head shaking track like ‘Sweet Willy Rollbar’, there’s a ‘Goose Freight Train’, which drags just part of a riff through a song, sort of a lead footed rock monster, or even ‘Roadbull’, which quickly turns from a rock song into a mournful snare and whistle march. Hell, the whole album ends up with ‘Lividity’ which is pretty much tones, stray drumbeats and mumbling. It’s certainly a less ‘catchy’ release than their last major label effort (which would be Houdini), but considering the Melvins’ last actual record was the Amßep released Prick, and that was nothing but weird sound-bites and heavily distorted snippets of songs, Stoner Witch is a nice compromise. None of those straight faced Kiss covers or things that sound like Kiss covers. There’s no need to be satirical when King Buzzo has the best overblown rock voice you’ve heard. His best moments (‘At the Snake’) sound like Ozzy doing a Europe song while on a bunch of downers and bad dust, which is scarier than Danzig or any of those guys could ever hope to be. Instead, you have here the successful amalgam of a really twisted Flipper-esque musical vision and an urge to recreate the spirit of heavy rock, from ‘lnna-Gada-Da-Vida’ to the last good Zeppelin album. That, tender rock fans, is something we can live with. KIRK GEE I TOM PETTY Wildflowers (Warner Brothers) Rick Rubin produces Petty’s second solo album (his first for Warner Brothers). As with Johnny Cash’s last, Rubin keeps things pretty simple (bar the odd orchestral arrangement here and there). Songwise there’s a few surprises: the folkie Tim Buckley-like ‘Don’t Fade On Me’, the country tinged title track, but again it’s the usual Petty collection of rockers (‘Cabin Down Below’, ‘Honey Bee’), moral narratives (‘To Find A Friend’) and brooding ballads (‘Wake Up Time’ and ‘lt’s Good To Be King’). Certainly it’s the most reflective album of his career. ‘When I add up what I’ve left behind / I don’t want to lose no more,’ he sings at one point. It’s Petty’s emotional rather than musical adventurousness which sustains Wildflowers which is, songwise, at times rather thin. GREG FLEMING lASWAD Rise and Shine (BMG) Aswad celebrate two decades as one of the UK’s top reggae bands with an album that mixes their pop smarts with a deep roots sensibility. Rise and Shine marks the maturity of a band that at one stage was accused of sacrificing its musical roots. With a tight riffing horn section and some dreader that dread lyrics, Aswad charge into another decade. The radio friendly ‘Shine’ is an echo of earlier chart topping efforts but the band toughens up for ‘Warriors Charging’ and ‘World of Confusion’. Yeah mon, Rise and Shine is a joyous celebration — the summer sound of a reggae band that straddles two worlds with infectious optimism. MARK REVINGTON I DEAD CAN DANCE Toward The Within (4AD / Flying In) I simply cannot imagine a union more destiny bound and divinely balanced than the sublime collision of nations, times and cultures created by Australian based Lisa Gerrard and Irish based Brendan Perry, aka Dead Can Dance. He has the voice of Frank Sinatra, unclouded by mob connections and nostalgia. She has, in her vocal chords, an instrument of unearthly resonance, the sound of which I would swiftly betray the cream of my favourite vocal enchantresses for. After six albums, this most transporting of global (hell, universal!) acts have recorded the shock equivalent of Nirvana’s Unplugged in New York in a live set. Of 15 tracks, all but four are previously unreleased. New songs to die for include the perfectly placed (and mercifully uninterrupted by ‘invited audience’ applause) coupling of ‘I Can See Now’ and ‘American Dreaming’, both featuring lead vocals by Perry. They provide a perfect, poetic juxtaposition of prophecy (‘There’s nothing more dangerous, than a man with nothing to lose / Nothing to live for / And nothing to prove) and social comment (We’ve been too long American dreaming / I think we’ve all lost our way / Flail on, somnambulistic, maniacal, in the dark’). Then there’s the sweet swoon of ‘Don’t Fade Away’,

in: ‘We’ll dance through our isolation, seeking solace in the wisdom we bestow / Turning thoughts to the here and ever after / Consuming fear in our fiery halos.’ From there, the huge leaps to the more earth bound elements of songs like the Gerrard lead ‘Cantarra’ (pure banshee incarnate) and the ethereal, yet bass tribal, ‘Yulunga (Spirit Dance)’, seem but heady skips. You may not have expected the ‘live’, but you can certainly rely on the intoxication. ‘Bring on a symphony of bird cries.’ BRONWYN TRUDGEON ICYNDI LAUPER Twelve Deadly Cyns (Sony) There are no real pop stars anymore — no Durans, no Whams, no Culture Clubs and certainly no Cyndi Laupers. Throughout the 80s, along with Madonna, she was the quintessential female pop icon. Twelve Deadly Cyns collects the big hits from that period. Perhaps unwisely, all the singles run together for the first half of the record — ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’, ‘Money Changes Everything’, ‘All Through The Night’, ‘She Bop’, ‘Change Of Heart’, Marvin’s ‘What’s Going On’ and the beautiful double of ‘Time After Time’ and ‘True Colours’ — and this results in the second half falling flat, as by the time Lauper released Hat Full Of Stars in 1993, she had lost the pop sensibility that made her special. But that’s a small gripe, ‘cause overall Twelve Deadly Cyns is ideal for those of us who like the convenience of prime cuts all in the one place. JOHN RUSSELL I SHUDDER TO THINK Pony Express Record (Epic) The first of the Dischord crew to defect to a major label, Shudder to Think have finally weighed in with that major label debut, and I’ll be a monkey’s uncle if it isn’t a nice improvement from their last offering. They’re a band who have always had a pretty surreal element happening, due largely to vocalist Craig Wedren’s odd falsetto voice and cut up, dream state lyrics. At times it could all get just a little too fey. No problem with that here, as the musical side of things is more solid than I’ve ever heard from these guys. Guitars chop and slash precisely with a clean rhythm section, and it all gives Mr Wedren something to wrap his voice around. It didn’t hurt anything having Ted Nicely and Andy Wallace handling production and mixing, respectively. They’ve created a really perfect sound for Shudder to Think; not guitar-stud big, but by no means tinny either. Best moments seem to come when the band cut loose and rock, with plenty of those patented DC tempo changes and vocals leaping from a rolling melody into some odd stratosphere. If Jane’s Addiction can do as well as they did in the mainstream, t don’t see why Pony Express Record shouldn’t at least push Shudder to Think into some sort of cult notoriety. KIRK GEE I THE BLACK CROWES America (BMG) They are wearing their politically incorrect hearts, bless ‘em, on their sleeves this time. Well, not quite a heart — it is, in fact an untrimmed pussy, spilling suggestively out of a tiny bikini bottom, decorated with the stars and stripes. It’s typical of the record as a whole —- a brash, belligerent, but often compelling rock ‘n‘ roll record. The Black Crowes are still of the belief this stuff can redeem you from all manner of sins. Made amidst apparently heavier than usual debaucheries and fuelled by the always volatile relationship between the Robinson brothers, Amorica may not be the masterwork the boys claim (again, too many riffs parading as songs, and Chris Robinson’s vocals reveal their limitations spread over an entire hour), but it’s easily the best Black Crowes record ever, and a lot more interesting than, say, Voodoo Lounge. The blueprint here is clearly the Stones’ 70s classic Exile On Main St, and on songs like ‘Gone’, ‘Non Fiction’, the funky ‘High Head Blues’ and the obligatory big ballad ‘Descending’, they approach the amoral grandeur of the Glimmer Twins at their most debauched. After this they should never be underestimated. GREG FLEMING I KITCHENS OF DISTINCTION Cowboys and Aliens (One Little Indian) Consistently unfashionable, English threepiece Kitchens of Distinction have produced a string of exceptional albums since the late

80s, to the deafening roar of public indifference. Their curious sound — like a Verlaines song played by a reverb soaked Pixies and sung by the Psychedelic Furs’ Richard Butler — has yet to find the willing audience needed to move them beyond cult status. A hard-hitting lyrical stance, often focusing on aspects of gay love, furthers their position as a prickly and dif-ficult-to-categorise musical beast. Certainly the band’s lyricist (bass player/vocalist Patrick, I think) seems to have been the victim of more fucked up relationships than the combined cast of Melrose

Place. However, his ‘loved and lost’ lyrical themes have a resonance that extends beyond their immediate gay context. These are songs dealing in the sort of universal feelings that transcend sexual boundaries. It’s important that outpourings this intense exist in a sympathetic setting, if they’re not to sound top-heavy in sentiment and lacking in real substance. Thankfully KOD’s music is as charged as their emotions, although occasionally (as on the final section of ‘Come On Now’) they teeter on the brink of U2-like bombast.

The only real disappointment on this album is the lack of the spine-tingling factor evident on previous offerings. At least one or two tracks on each of their three earlier albums have been quite breath-taking in their brilliance. Cowboys and Aliens seems to lack that absolute killer track — although ‘Sand on Fire’, ‘Here Come the Swans’ and the title track come close. Where this album betters the other is in its diversity of sound — it’s more obviously produced , but avoids any tendency towards ‘samey-ness’. By mixing it up a little more ‘Cowboys and Aliens’ is consistently more memorable — proof positive that the Kitchens of Distinction remain the uncoolest uncool band around. MARTIN BELL IJAMIROQUAI The Return Of The Space Cowboy (Sony) Do we really need another Stevie Wonder? A young English one, with a penchant for acid jazz? "Kinda," you shrugged about their debut, letting the prat in the hat fill you full of his

earthy emergency funk. For anyone that didn’t lose interest after a couple of listens, here they are again, peddling the same kind of stuff. It’s easy to rubbish them for what they’re not. If their role models evolved from dirty, funk filled, 70s coke orgies, the Jammies are more your clean cafe option. But anyway, here’s what

they are. Smooth, sweet voiced and groovy. It’s what made them acid jazz’s biggest pop success. Thankfully, the environmental preaching bollocks has been chopped down. ‘The Kids’ breaks loose and spazzes out all over the place, cow bells and wooze synth and trumpets. ‘Mr Moon’s Hubba Bubba basslines glide with a layer of disco that actually sounds worthwhile! And before you know it, it’s finished. Just like this review. JOHN TAITE

ROMANTIC ANDES To Understand the Animals (Bug/Fridge)

The Randes (cough) are a Hamilton acoustic band. Not your typical acoustic bunch — drippy old men with pony-tails and tales of male menopause — but the sound of young Hamilton, if young Hamilton was some guys from early JPSE beating up the Violent Femmes. They’ve been terribly successful in their

home town, winning this year’s Battle of the Bands, having a string of songs play-listed on Contact FM, having 1,000 people turn up for their album release gig, and 1 in 5 of them actually buying ‘To Understand the Animals’. The album’s strongest song is the pretty and affecting ‘Part of Me’ which is followed by the great harmonies of ‘Nothing’ and ‘Time Has Gone By’. The ballad ‘lnto the Sun’ is another song of grand splendour. It’s the more uptempo numbers like ‘Tiny Tom’ and ‘Holiday’ that don’t come off, with their weedy sound, and are best left to be pummelled to life in their live set.

The thin sound is to be expected, with a low budget it is hard to produce the richness that would do justice to, or even enhance, their acoustic values. But strangely, when the cello is used it fills just the right gap in the production wall. Hence, all songs with cello stand a foot above those without.

The Andes don’t hide behind effects, thrusting their unplugged songs naked before the listener. jThey have genuine songwriting ability, with a swag of excellent torch song beauties. Releasing CDs is like accessorising. As you’re about to leave the house, remove one thing. Leave the punters wanting more, not less. DARREN HAWKES I SANDIE SHAW Nothing Less Than Brilliant (The Best Of) (Virgin) Morrisey once described Sandie Shaw’s songs as “a litter of the most vital and inspirational singles ever produced in the history of popular music”. That was just talking about a three year period in the 60s icon’s recording history. The pop goddess was at her peak then. She burst into the charts with Burt Bacharach and- Hal David’s ‘There’s Always Something There To Remind Me’, and followed it with a string of three minute gems like ‘Girl Don’t Come’, ‘Message Understood’ and ‘Long Live Love’.

Then came the Eurovision song contest and the dire ‘Puppet On A String’, wacky and forgettable.

She gave it all up for marriage and motherhood in the 70s. It wasn’t until 1982 that Heaven 17 persuaded her to re-record ‘Anyone Who Had A Heart’ for their ‘Music Of Quality and Distinction’ project. A couple of years later, Morrisey sought out the object of his hero worship, badgered her with tapes and letters, and got her into the studio to re-record ‘Hand In

Glove’ with the Smiths. In 1988 she released her first album in more than 20 years, a mixture of originals and covers, like the Jesus and Mary Chain’s ‘Cool About You’. And now the Best 0f... 25 tracks covering a remarkable career. From sultry 60s icon to caring 80s songstress and songs like ‘Please Help the Cause Against Loneliness’. Sandie Shaw says this could be her retirement album. It’s a reminder of some of pop’s great moments. MARK REVINGTON SHAWN COLVIN Covergirl (Sony) MARK CURRY Let the Wretched Come Home (Virgin) After Unplugged LPs, albums full of covers seem to be this year’s, (or marketing plan’s) model. Preceded by cover album by Dylan, Ferry and Robert Forster, this, Colvin’s third LP, is also her best by some distance. Her last, Fat City, sounded over produced and under written. This time it’s a back to basics approach (half recorded live/solo in New York), coupled with a swag of Colvin’s favourite tunes. If Fat City showed us anything, it was that Colvin had good taste in movies (the title being of John Huston’s 70s classic). That discernment continues here, musically speaking. There are songs here by little-heard writers like Greg Brown, Willis Alan Ramsey and Steve Earle, as well as the more predictable choices of Dylan, Waits and the Band. Highlights are Colvin’s readings of Brown’s ‘One Cool Remove’ and the Band’s ‘Twilight’. An album that begs the question: where to next? Mark Curry’s second album, Let the Wretched Come Home, continues to explore the singer/songwriter’s obsession with personal and urban decay. He’s become a sort of 90s version of Jim Carrol (remember him?), although often on Wretched he sounds like Axl Rose with an acoustic house band. Curry undoubtedly means it, bashing out his songs on acoustic guitar with searing resolve, but, by the third or fourth track, the material’s lack of dynamics and Curry’s one dimensional vocals (he'pretty much screams throughout) begin to tire. Oddly enough, the best moment is also the quietest, when Curry gets polite and, well, gentlemanly on the lovely ‘ll Minutes’. GREG FLEMING