albums

Rip It Up, Issue 219, 1 November 1995, Page 36

albums

FINNS Neil and Tim Finn (Parlophone) If the walls could talk in the Finn family home in Te Awamutu, this is the album from the boys’ bedroom. Its relaxed, spontaneous feel captures a childhood spent playing acoustic guitars together, working out a few chords after a session with A Hard Day’s Night on the mono radiogram. Recorded quickly, it benefits from a natural sound and unlaboured approach. It’s a charming album full of melodic colour and sonic surprises, as if they’ve grabbed whatever was in the air and thrown it onto tape. It may sound as if the session was yesterday, but this album has been threatened for years. This is the second time the Finns have got together for a diversionary bit of brotherly music-making. The first time, the songs were so poppy they were requisitioned for Woodface, the breakthrough album for Crowded House in Europe. But the five years since then have made all the difference to the way this album sounds. Neil and Tim are now much more in charge of their musical destinies. With Together Alone Crowded House cut the apron strings with Mitchell Froom, and found a more Pacific voice. Before & After saw Tim Finn in complete command of his songwriting skills, and the album quietly captured a committed audience. But producing Dave Dobbyn’s Twist put

the final stamp on the flavour of Finn.

This isn’t the Everly harmony album many were expecting, but a glimpse at the Finns’ musical vocabulary before the production craftsmanship adds its polish. The language they grew up with is, of course, the Beatles. But it’s the period that matters: this recalls Magical Mystery Tour and the ‘White Album’, when they were having some fun experimenting in the studio after the hard pop graft of Sgt Pepper was completed. Just as clear, however, are the distinctive Finn touches: the Enzy paranoia of ‘Eyes of the World’, the swampy ‘Suffer Never’ that could be recent Crowded House. Their voices are often indistinguishable, with the unique harmonies which always result when siblings sing together. ‘News Travels Fast’ and ‘Where is My Soul’ in particular are glorious acoustic duets, the latter with a soaring middle eight that belongs in a Crowdies’ hit. The songs seem like works in progress, with verses and choruses that might fit elsewhere, and dodgy lyrics left in to retain the spirit of creativity. Giving the minimalism some flavour are the ‘‘found sounds" taken from whatever was at hand — wooden drums, scratched piano strings, muffled drums and tea-chest bass, a ukelele and backward tape loops. Only 38 minutes long, with 11 tracks (and a couple of those could go), Finn bubbles with musical textures and gestures. It’s a captivating insight into the brothers of invention. CHRIS BOURKE

OASIS (What’s the Story) Morning Glory? (Sony) I’m not going to rave about Oasis’ melodic brilliance or their Beatlesque catchiness. I’m going to refrain from going on about Noel Gallaghers’s mouth watering array of tunes, about his brother Liam’s much improved vocals, about new drummer Alan White keeping the whole thing together better than Tony McCarrol ever did. There’ll be none of that here. It’s not all brilliance and ease. ‘Hey Now’ is a lazy dirge that sounds like Noel was down the chippy when they were recording.

And while it’s just as well they had to remove ‘Step Out’, the horrible Stevie Wonder ‘Uptight’ rip off, it’s absence has left an imbalance in the highs and lows. Noel must have had a melancholic 1995 because Morning Glory is Oasis developing their delicate and intricate side. If you were a fan of ‘Live Forever’, ‘Slide Away’ and ‘Supersonic’, you’ll love it. There are fragile hopes in their next brilliant single, ‘Wonderwall’. The fizzing enormity of their finale, ‘Champagne Supernova’, will take up residence in your soul. ‘She’s Electric’, akin to ‘Digsy’s Dinner’, is a silly pop thing that’ll stick in that part of your brain that makes you hum. ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’ has Noel on vocals (saving one of the best tracks for himself), and ‘Cast No Shadow’, about the Verve’s Richard Ashcroft, is a sad, string section assisted number. Looking at the wider picture, Blur’s The Great Escape may well be a Brit-pop masterpiece, but Morning Glory, is a masterful piece of rock and roll — twice as easy to get into and twice as rewarding once you’re in. It’s full of what makes classics, erm, classic — crafted, mood swinging guitar melodies, vocals that pace you up and slow you down, a supportive rhythm section and, most importantly, a sense of magic that transcends the hype. JOHN TAITE SONIC YOUTH Washing Machine (Geffen) This is where smart guitars go when they transcend this plane — to a sonic jam store in the sky, where they get to play not only with

themselves or other bass guitars and drum kits, but with fellow guitars!

‘We got to change the way that you feel,’ go Kim Gordon’s spooky vocals on the album’s first lyric. Sonic Youth don’t mess about doing exactly that, by dishing out an opening trio like ‘Becuz’, ‘Junkie’s Promise’ and ‘SaucerLike’. These sound like spontaneous jams, but you know multiple guitar tunings alone make it painstaking to maintain such an air. Such paradoxes are an essence Sonic Youth have retained in spades on Washing Machine. Not every song is so daringly precarious in its sonic structure — as in the case of ‘Little Trouble Girl’, which, nevertheless, innovatively divides it’s schizophrenic shared vocals between Kim Gordon and guest singer Kim Deal. This is but one highlight of a set of consistently cool vocal performances and fascinating Beat-like musings which peaks mid-album on ‘No Queen Blues’, where Thurston has tuned his ‘Nic Fit’ siezures to exhilirating effect. A noisy washing machine has never sounded so good. BRONWYN TRUDGEON VARIOUS ARTISTS Help (Polygram) Let’s put aside all the ‘it’s such a good cause’ cop-outs (Bosnia, we know). Let’s forget all the recording industry records it broke (fastest album ever recorded, all in a day, and the fastest record into the shops, less than a week after recording). Is it any good? Yeah, well, sort of. A lot of the better tracks come from the electronic side of things. Makes sense, really, because they would’ve had most of their ideas and samples all ready to boot up. Orbital’s ‘Adnan’, Portishead’s ghostly (as usual) ‘Mourning Air’,

and the Chemical Brothers/Charlatans collaboration ‘Time for Living’ all top the ’could be a single’ chart. Radiohead providing a sad number called ‘Lucky’, where they try out a bit of Pink Floydian theory, and Neneh Cherry teams up with her hubby’s band Trout, for the awfully good but awfully titled ‘1.2.3.4.5’. There are some rewarding teamups. Paul Weller and Paul

McCartney’s version of ‘Come Together’, erm, came together. ExSpecial Terry Hall does a cute version of ‘Dream A Little Dream’ with Salad. The Manic Street Preachers deserve a mention for their bizarre, Richieless version of ‘Rain Drops Keep Falling On My Head’. They’re probably hoping he’ll come out of hiding (or the ground) just to kick their asses for it. Of course a lot of tracks sound hastily recorded and some make the bands sound terrible. I hear lan Brown had two teeth knocked out by a fan the other week. The poor fan had probably just heard the atrocious version of ‘Love Spreads’, where Brown sounds like the laziest, most boring singer on the planet. Here’s hoping the same guy gets around to Suede, for murdering ‘Shipbuilding’. JOHN TAITE THE SMASHING PUMPKINS Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness (Virgin) If you’re one of those nay sayers who’s harped on about the indulgence of double albums since you heard the Smashing Pumpkins were making one, today is the day you must repent. There is nothing indulgent about taking the space you need for the body of work you have created. That it should fit so perfectly onto two CDs (that’s 28 songs in a neat 2.02, tally fiends) with nary a bum note in earshot may be the stuff miracles are made of, but so was the story about Jesus divvying up bread, and noone ever accused him of being an indulgent man, no matter how many buns he dished out.

Mellon Collie's discs are entitled ‘Dawn to Dusk’ and ‘Twilight to Starlight’. By the mere nature of these names, one can expect some crossover in the themes they imply (have you ever tried to separate when dusk becomes twilight?). The album sets out on a thread as gentle as the first fingers of dawn, with the strings and piano of the album’s sans vocal title track, but quickly escalates into the kind of stunning string-pop the Pumpkins do so well, on ‘Tonight, Tonight’. Things get rockin’ from this point in, but that thread strung to the beginning is still retained at the

heart of even the most furious numbers (the best of which is the awesomely glam rockin’ ‘Bullet With Butterfly Wings’), polished off completely (‘Stumbleine’), given a cameo appearance as calm in the storm (‘Porcelina of the Vast Oceans’), and given the odd zany jiggle (‘Lily (My One and Only)’ and ‘We Only Come Out at Night’). Closing tracks ‘By Starlight’ and ‘Farewell and Goodnight’ take things full circle. It makes you wish the album really did last a whole day, for it would be the perfect soundtrack to coax you out of bed, match the agonies and ecstasys every day brings, then tuck you up under the watchful gaze of an ever changing moon sometime before dawn. BRONWYN TRUDGEON GREEN DAY Insomniac (Reprise) The band with more good tunes and pop sensibilities than the pop-a-pop Popsicle Band are back, a back in the land. After having a wee bitty bit of success with their last album, Green Day have delivered up another platter of furious, frolicsome feisty rawk and roll. The opening track, ‘Armitage Shanks’, acts as a natural lead in from Dookie, proving that fame, money, wealth, more wealth, and not forgetting lashings of wealth, have not stopped Green Day from writing a rippingly catchy tune. Having suckered the listener in, Green Day then turn up the amps and let rip with all the snot they can muster. Tune after tune assail the listener’s ears as Insomniac comes across like Dookie’s evil, uglier twin brother

with bad breath. Although a tougher meaner cookie than Dookie, all the stuff you loved or hated from that album is still present. Perhaps the biggest bonus for Green Day is that with their second big album, there’s no need to make fatuous comparisons with 80s new wave punk bands, 'cause now Green Day just sound like Green Day (obviously), and that’s a pretty good band to sound like. KEVIN LIST PAUL KELLY Deeper Water (White) ' ' . ' . \ Deeper Water is another case of (some) great songs, tepid production, OK band. The title track, one of Kellys finest works, is spoilt by a leaden, predictable rock production. Better is the REM-sounding ‘Blush’, which (along with ‘l’ll Forgive but I Won’t Forget’), opens the album with a bracing injection of sexuality. ‘California’ reminds one of Neil Young’s ‘Albuquerque’, and continues Kelly’s fascination with America.

All in all, a rather unsatisfactory album, which has one longing for the return of a band as sharp and colourful as The Messengers. The lightweight pap of ‘Extra Mile’ and ‘Madeleine’s Song’ (which sounds like cut-rate Mink de'Ville) suggest even a writer as fine as Kelly isn't past chucking in a few fillers. Last .year Kelly said: “I know I’ll probably fall short and end up writing Paul Kelly songs. When you are young you can be anyone, but as you become older you become someone.” Deeper Water suggests Kelly’s art hasn’t always survived the transformation. GREG FLEMING kd LANG All You Can Eat (Warners) kd lang's star took a long time to rise, but when its time came, Ingenue ensured it was meteoric. Her next act was the soundtrack to Even Cowgirls Get the Blues. The last time we saw her on the telly, she was riding a chopper and sporting the look of the cat who stole the cream, which she practically was (lima Thurman was on the back of that chopper!).

kd’s new album boasts the benefits of its two most recent predecessors (the clear and effortlessly

climbing vocals of Ingenue, and a hint of the funk that came to the fore on Cowgirls), but it’s an entirely different animal altogether. One might be tempted to call it a cheeky monkey, were it not so brazen in its delicious advances. ‘How bad could it be if you amuse yourself with me?,’ kd asks, on ‘Sexuality’, and you can virtually feel the world swooning in non-gender specific unison. My only complaint is All You Can Eat is never enough (at 36.20), but I never could get enough of a good thing. BRONWYN TRUDGEON BRIAN WILSON I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times (MCA) There were probably many of us emerging from the Brian Wilson documentary at this year’s Film Festival who hoped the soundtrack songs would soon find release on an album. Well we've got our wish, but it’s a mixed blessing, because without the tender pathos of those movie images — it’s good to see him (almost) well again — the shakiness in Brian’s voice is starkly evident. The luminous beauty of these old songs may be enhanced by modern recording techniques (and Don Was’ production), but Brian’s vocals are a poor substitute for his sublime performances of yesteryear.

‘Caroline No’ probably works best because the fragility of Brian’s delivery most matches the song. Otherwise, a couple of his 1980 s ‘collaborations’ with ex-therapist Eugene Landy sound pretty good,

but then, Brian was even further out to lunch during the original recordings. Daughters Wendy and Carnie also join him in what sounds like an act of reconciliation on ‘Do It Again’. Some of the tracks are mere fragments, and one is a bizarre home demo taped during the lost years of the 80s. Total playing time: 29.29. PETER THOMSON LEE PERRY/ MAD PROFESSOR Super Ape Inna Jungle (Ariwa/Chant) Lee Perry and the mad Professor discover the switch that speeds the snare drum up and takes them into... jungle (described by one cynic as the black version of techno)! The jungle mixes are done by Douggie Digital and Juggler, while the dub mixes are handled by the Mad Professor. And Perry, the mad old codger, has managed to join the latest craze with some style. Not surprising, really, because Perry has a fascination with jungle noises going back a couple of decades.

The sound is stripped back — bass bigger than a Mount Ruapehu explosion, and insistent nagging snare drum guaranteed to send a schizophrenic into a fit. Turn it up loud and let the trance take over. MARK REVINGTON MIKE SCOTT Bring ‘Em All In (Chrysalis) The continuing saga of Mike Scott’s search for his personal Celtic, religious roots takes us to his first solo album. This is the fourth leg in his search, a pilgrimage that began in the early 80s with the big music of the Waterboys which evolved into the Dublin folkie phase, before ending in the New York rock edge of 1993’s Dream Harder. Inspired by the spiritual Findhorn Community in North-East Scotland, and recorded there with the help of Niko Bolas, Neil Young’s producer, Bring ‘Em All In is the bard stripped bare. Armed only with piano and guitars, and abandoning his love of metaphors for some straight talking, Scott, ironically, has exposed the weakness of his songs. Spiritual gusto can’t hide the

fact the title track is an ordinary song, and electric undercurrents aren’t enough to save ‘Edinburgh Castle’ or ‘I Know She’s in the Building’ while 'City Full of Ghosts’ merely hauls him back to a Dylanish honky tonk rant. The only unqualified success is the beautiful, vulnerable ‘Wonderful Disguise’, although ‘What Do You Want Me To Do?’ is a moving admission of vanity and need. So, Scott's journey of self discovery has taken a step forward, it’s just a shame his music has taken a step back. GEORGE KAY GREG MALCOLM Trust Only This Face (Braille, thru IMD) A curious release by wizzo experimental guitarist Greg Malcolm. It’s 28 tracks of nutty commentaries, songs, and pasted together sample and noise soundscapes — a New Zealand synthesis of Negativland/Kramer and John S Hall’s duo work, with a generous measure of crazy kiwiana humour? Yep!

With the help of many guests, among them Derek Champion (Bilders) and Paul Sutherland (Into the Void), Greg Malcolm has produced a quirky, often witty, yet often thought provoking collection in Trust Only This Face. While its experimental ism may detract, its entertainment value cannot be underestimated. Comes with an excellent booklet full of lyrics and liner notes too. SHAUN JURY AC/DC Ballbreaker (East West The moral to this record being: You just can’t keep a good riff down. Barely seconds into this album, during the intro to ‘Hard as a Rock’, you can definitively say: ‘Yes, this is another AC/DC record.’ Once again, all the essential elements are here. The Young brothers set up a sweaty boogie chug, which seems all the more believable with Phil Rudd back on the drum stool, keeping it anchored as solidly as possible. The thematic scope of Ballbreaker is pretty standard AC/DC — songs like the title track, ‘Cover You in Oil’ and 'Whiskey on the Rocks’ are pretty much self-

explanatory, while the lyrics are so bad it’s almost painful. (From ‘Honey Roll’: ‘Baby, bend over, touch your toes...’ I don’t think I need to explain why Bikini Kill won’t be covering that.) After such a lengthy absence from the world of rawk, and such a bad run on the last few albums, Ballbreaker may seem better than it really is to those of us wanting a return to form of AC/DC, but it really does seem like the goods are being delivered here. KIRK GEE

SUPERCHUNK Here’s Where The Strings Come In (Merge/Fellaheen) Super Chunk’s blistering live shows at the Powerstation late last year solidified every opinion you’d ever had of them after listening to their records. The Chapel Hill foursome crunched, popped, punked, and squealed, till you put them on the pedestal they so rightly deserved. Here's Where The Strings Come In, their fourth album (plus two comp’s), continues the object lesson in 90s punk rock, while remaining as always, far from the corporate chasers.

In the beginning, Super Chunk squeezed ‘the band accelerator’ in the same way you would a water pistol, until Foolish, last year’s curve ball album, saw them stray in a slower, moodier direction. Here’s Where... is Foolish part two. ‘Detroit Has a Skyline’, ‘Certain Stars’ and the first single, ‘Hyper Enough’,, quell the addiction for speed, while ‘Silverleaf and Snowy Tears’ joins with ‘Sunshine State’ as arguably the nearest

Super Chunk will come to producing ballads.

Here’s Where... boasts no great leaps forward. You still have to listen intently to hear the genius of the melodies buried ’neath a wash of fuzz, but as far as punk in the 90s goes, nobody does it better. JOHN RUSSELL VARIOUS The Fridge: A Compilation of Hamilton Music (Fridge Records) The Fridge, besides being an essential household commodity, is the name of the in-house studio of Hamilton’s Contact 89FM. And it’s here, invariably with Contact’s production manager, Gordon Bassett, manning the mixing desk, that all of The Fridge the album’s 21 tracks were recorded. There’s no unifying theme tying the album together, although plenty of the same personnel pop up in the various bands represented. From the curiously 80s sound of 5 Girls, to the roots reggae of Boil Up, to the wiggly punk-pop of Wendyhouse, there are styles aplenty. As with many such compilations, song and performance quality go up and down like a whore’s drawers, the highlight here being Tugboat (aka Jon-Boy Armstrong), with the brooding JPSE-inflected ‘Old Timer’. Unfortunately, by the time Mobile Stud Unit and the Big Muffin Serious Band trot out their wares in the album’s ‘live to air’ section, proceedings have degenerated into farce, with no redeeming qualities. If it’s a joke, I guess you had to be there, although I’m glad I wasn’t. However, there’s a sting in The Fridge’s tail in the form of the five track Dribbly Cat Attraction EP that closes it. A most pleasing cacophony indeed — a pity then that, on balance, The Fridge contains too many mouldy leftovers and not enough in the way of tasty morsels such as these. Mmmmm, cold chicken. MARTIN BELL

TACKHEAD Tackhead, Power Inc., Volumes One and Two (Blanc Records) Space sounds meet the musical masters of mayhem in a marriage of fat beats and savage guitar sounds. Ten years ago, this

strange musical hybrid was conceived during a meeting between On U Sound head Adrian Sherwood and drummer Keith Le Blanc. Le Blanc, guitarist Skip McDonald and bass player Doug Wimbish were founding fathers of rap as the rhythm section of the lendary Sugarhill Gang.

With Sherwood at the controls and credited as the fourth member of Tackhead, they mixed funky bass lines, precision drumming, savage sheets of guitar and a seriously eclectic mix of samples into Tackhead, the bastard child —

hard to categorise, always pushing the boundaries.

As anyone who saw them here on the On U Sound tour realised, these are seriously funky musicians. That, combined with Sherwood’s creative skill at the mixing desk, spawned a serious amount of good songs — hence volumes one and two — although mainstream music lovers may disagree with ‘songs’ as a description. Twenty-three tracks guaranteed to twitch your limbs and tweak your senses, from the hard-edged ‘Ticking Time Bomb' to the mutant doo-wop of ‘Bop Bop’, with a deranged cover of Hendrix's 'Crosstown Traffic’ included. MARK REVINGTON

SUGAR RAY Lemonade and Brownies (Atlantic) This generation X quartet give their all to lure discerning consumers. Sugar Ray's debut album, produced by DJ Lethal of House of Pain and mixed by Jason Roberts (House Of Pain, Funkdoobiest, Cypress Hill) is set at a rapid pace, shifting restlessly and with diversity from track to track. The overall content is LA rock meets NY hiphop, with excursions to other musical genres combined with a sense of humour and cute quirkiness which portrays their junk culture. Shuffled into their deck of harder edge are laidback funk songs such as ‘Danzig Needs a Hug' and ‘Hold Your Eyes’, which could easily pass as the product of a cheesy combo fitted with polyester lounge suits. The single, ‘Mean Machine’, is a pure delight, being SR at their most energetic — lots of guitar and shouting in a pop-punk fashion. The album finishes with an unplugged country and western song which is not track listed. JASON WALD SUPERSUCKERS The Sacrilicious Sounds 0f... (Sub Pop) This is a delightful album, from the inside out to the fine, limited edition, winky, lounge act cover art, swiped form Paul Weston’s The Sweet and the Swinging. (The fact I know that means I really shouldn’t be writing about punk and you just blew $2). The music? Well, with exDldjlt Mr Rick Sims on board, the ‘Suckers lay down a very serious twin guitar attack that’s all beef and no filler. They aren't shy about dabbling in some twang or garage rock, or even heart rending C&W either, and manage to maintain that knife edge balance of musical integrity and self-deprecation that keeps it from all sounding snide. If you’re doubtful, just check out

the opening one-two of ‘Bad, Bad, Bad’ and ‘Born With a Tail’. It’s simple raving psych-punk, running on all four carbs and eight cylinders. Dumb enough to annoy the hell out of those who want rock to be sociology lectures set to music, and clever enough to rock harder than the punk-by-numbers crowd could ever hope to. KIRK GEE

D’ANGELO Brown Sugarv (EMI) D’Angelo’s background and rise to fame read like a mythical story. Born Michael Archer, in Richmond, Virginia, the young prodigy cut his

musical teeth playing in his father’s church before moving to New York at the tender age of 18, where he won talent contests and started hanging out with Al B Shure, Tevin Campbell et al. Now, at the ripe old age of 21, he’s .composed, written, arranged, produced and performed Brown Sugar, his first album. His gospel upbringing and the inspiration of old masters like Gaye, Robinson, Green and Wonder shine through in his sensually restrained, yet evocative vocal style. The title track is a prime example, with D’Angelo sexually crooning in a song that’s actually ‘about weed and getting lifted’. His jazzed up reworking of Smokey’s ‘Cruisin’’ shows where he’s from and where he’s at, and if

‘Shit, Damn, Motherfucker’ is urban betrayal, then healing is in the gospel roots of ‘Higher’. Gifted, black, young — in that order; if there’s to be a soul revival, D’Angelo will be at the forefront. GEORGE KAY

THE FLAMING LIPS Clouds Taste Metallic (Warners) This is one of those albums you could judge by its cover (although you’d be a cloth-eared fodl to do so). The artwork consists of stuck on photos, doodlings and ‘computer poo’, and the album is jam packed with plenty of the same — subtle instrumental doodlings and aural computer poo to keep you occupied on return listens, with detailed vocal pictures in front. In space, no-one can hear you scream, but the Lips have been receiving signals from there again somehow, as space musings and space junk samples are in abundance here. On earth, people can hear you scream, which could explain the inspiration behind the most excellent ‘Lightning Strikes the Postman’ and ‘Evil will Prevail’. Saving the best for last is the thoroughly uplifting and aptly dubbed ‘Aurally Excited Version’ of ‘Bad Days’. It’s certainly a triumph among triumphs to end on, from the modern day Manciniesque intro and reprises up. BRONWYN TRUDGEON RANCID Out Come the Wolves (Epitaph) If ye cannae do anything original at least make it better than the original. Like Green Day, Rancid are one of those bands who, upon first hearing, give off a fetid whiff of musical deja vu. When called upon to recall just who they sound like, no names ever seem to crop up. Why? Simple, the bands Rancid sound like are no longer listened to by anybody under 30, thus making Rancid sound fresh and rocking; and here’s a funny thing, Rancid do

actually sound fresh and rockin’! After years of never being able to afford enough Vaseline for a really good mohawk, the success Rancid deserve is finally coming to them. The singers (there’s two who bounce vocals off each other) sound like Americans trying to sound like a couple of British lads trying to sound American. (If ye didn’t already know, Rancid are Yanks.) This Anglophilia extends to a number of skanking good times, where Rancid’s attempts at ska can go just a wee bit too far, as the singer immitates some tosser from Eastenders. However, one pile of rotten vegetables among so much fresh fruit shouldn’t spoil the nutritious chunky feast Rancid have served up. KEVIN LIST

RY COODER Music by Ry Cooder (Warner Bros) The second Cooder compilation in a year, this time it’s a double disc scoop from 15 years and a dozen or so movie soundtracks (although the Paris Texas theme was also included in the recent Best Of. To be expected, the styles vary considerably: snarling aggression, sentimental Tex-Mex balladry and spooky guitar atmospherics follow in quick succession. He also made use of native American musicianship in last year’s Geronimo. Despite Cooder’s selectivity here, away from the original contexts, the durability of this music varies too. Some of the richly textured instrumentals (Alamo Bay, for instance) are gorgeous, and destined to join the ranks of classic

movie themes. Some of the merely mood invoking pieces can soon sound banal. PETER THOMSON

EXCEL Seeking Refuge (Malicious Vinyl) After a very long fallow period (we’re talking at least five years here), Venice Beach’s beloved sons of very fast rock have returned. Ordinarily, this would prove a good chance to heap scorn on their no doubt well tanned shoulders, but Seeking Refuge is really a good record. Most importantly, Excel haven’t come back trying to slide a grunge, industrial, or some such genre-friendly sound past us. What they have done is tightened and refined their 80s punk/metal sound into a far more controlled, savage and contemporary sound. There are still traces of that golden age of ‘thrash’, but the band aren’t flailing around the pit anymore, they’re heading straight for your throat.

Less metal excess, but an unrelenting pace, tight choppy guitars, and vocals that are acquainted with melody make it an exhilirating ride, and it even gets a tad strange at times. HR of Bad Brains turns up and things get punkafarian. Best of all, there’s ‘Riptide’, which is kind of psychedelic faux surf/metal, and, like the rest of this album, sounds cool as all hell. I just hope they manage to get another record out this decade. KIRK GEE STEREOLAB Refried Ectoplasm (Switched On Volume 2) (Flying Nun) What better way to plunge into Stereolab’s exquisite aural waters than with this collection of impossibly obscure (in New Zealand, anyway) collection of singles, B-sides and unreleased curios. Refried Ectoplasm is the band’s sixth album in half as many years — a sure sign of precocious talent and/or a policy of vigorously pursuing an agenda outside accepted 90s rock norms. Certainly, their rapid-fire release schedule and

Velvets/Can influenced, organ-dri-ven mantras hark back to a simpler time when bands thought one chord was all you really needed. Indeed, time and again Stereolab have proved themselves to be the undisputed masters of rock ’n' roll restraint, never using two chords where one will suffice. But when it's called for, they can play that second chord... and how. Its arrival is like being woken from a blissful slumber on a sunny rural train platform by a passing Tokyobound bullet train. The senses reel, but there’s barely time for a ‘what the...’, before you’re dragged, twisting and spinning, into its slipstream. All the while the song, the groove, the note, thrums and resonates in the space between your ears. Which is not to say Stereolab are all about scaring the living crap out of you — the pristine pop of ‘Lo Boob Oscillator’, or the gentle strains of ‘Toneburst (Country)’ show there’s more than one string to the Stereolab bow. Yet it’s the sheer inexorable sense of purpose that Stereolab bring to bear on track after track that makes their music so compelling. Overall, the 13 tracks here make a convincing argument for Stereolab being the most consistently wonderful (and prolific) singles band of the decade, and for Refried Ectoplasm being their best album yet. MARTIN BELL SKUNK ANANSIE Paranoid and Sunburnt (Virgin) They’ve got the metal of Therapy and the funk-rock of Dub War, and they’re filling the hole left by Silverfish. They’re Skunk Anansie — driven drumming combined with granite guitars, providing the perfect stomping ground for the stunning vocals of Skin.

Not only is Skin (the six foot

black skinhead in army duds) one of the most striking (and frightening) female singers to come out of rock's ranks, she’s also one of the most talented. Her vocal range doesn’t disintegrate into banshee screams. The angrier she gets the more control she exerts, making sure you get to the lyrics while you’re knocked about by the power of the band. Not politically correct so much as politically pissed off, their songs rage about plonkers who ‘intellectualise my blackness’, about domestic violence (‘Blanked out your anger with my face / Wasted my days to hide disgrace'), about abuse and pain and anger. If happy people have no stories, then Skunk Anansie have had it tough. JOHN TAITE BIG AUDIO DYNAMITE Planet BAD (Sony) CARTER, THE UNSTOPPABLE SEX MACHINE Straw Donkey (Chrysalis) Big Audio Dyna-shite, more like. Mick Jones hasn't go much to show for 10 years with this plinkety plonkety synth outfit. He made a wrong turn after the Clash and was too stubborn (or stupid) to turn back. Mick knew if he stuck at it long enough, something would come along. Three songs came along, ‘Rush’, ‘Looking for a Song’ and, to a lesser degree, ‘The Globe’. The rest of this best of amounts to forgettable, toe-curling blah from a former punk hero dabbling with twee synth pop. The mighty fell with a thud. Mick’s pointless hopes are summed up on a two cent lolly on the album cover, meekly proclaiming: ‘Lennon Lives’.

As for Carter, well, the Unstoppable Sex Machine seem to have come across the immovable creative block in recent years. Hopefully they’ll just give it up gracefully and leave us with the memories. These memories. Straw Donkey is seven years of Carter singles, from the early ‘Sheriff Fatman’ to the dipsomaniac tale of ‘Anytime, Anyplace, Anywhere’, and their lawsuit riddled zenith, ‘After the Watershed’. There are also

views from the downward spiral, with ‘Glam Rock Cops' and 'Young Offender’s Mum’.

Their Pet Shop Pistols brand of synth punk, the loud thrashy guitars and the drum machines, all seemed so simple and effective. The lyrics were quirky, the hooks were catchy and, in the early 90s, it all seemed like maybe a weird duo with some jagged pop tunes could storm the charts. But now we’re in the midst of pin-ups and guitar heroes again, and poor old Carter don’t stand an ugly dog’s chance. Fun while it lasted, though. JOHN TAITE SUKA Nimrodiabolique (IMD) Right from the opening bars of ‘Full Fathom Six’, you know you’re on to a good thing. Dunedin’s Suka have managed to capture the fire of their live performance on Nimrodiabolique — 14 tracks of sweetness, bitterness, melody, and noise. Tracks like ’Ferment’ and ‘Mister’ are fiery, fast paced numbers. ‘Eet Personal...’ entices you with its sheer playfulness. ‘Death of a Moa’ is a beautiful acoustic guitar/cello arrangement. ‘Drift’ is a lengthy, sinister dirge. The production is great — crystal clear, but still warm and inviting. With this CD, Suka have produced probably the best New Zealand release of the year. Buy it, and love it. SHAUN JURY MERCURY REV See You On the Other Side (Beggars Banquet) Even after firing their frontman/lead persona David Baker, Mercury Rev have somehow made an album that could well be the ultimate progression from Boces, which featured Baker’s last

and finest contribution. All the regular hallmarks are there — songs that start from simple, snappy rhythms and analog twiddlings, then build through swirling guitars, flutes and Beatlesque vocal harmonies, until they’ve somehow become full blown psychedelia. It all sounds somewhere between good prog rock and the Smashing Pumpkins if they lost the commercial aspirations and self pity and just concentrated on the jams.

The lack of Mr Baker does seem to have let the band tighten up the stoner meanderings, and even get down and hard in an early Amboy Dukes style in places. See You On the Other Side is certainly worth the attention of those who enjoy finely crafted and chemically influenced music, and the guitar player’s name is Grasshopper, so it gets the 'recommended' stamp. KIRK GEE TAPPA ZUKIE Tappa Zukie in Dub (Blood and Fire/Chant) The sound of Jamaica, 1976, drum and bass-wise rhythms from David Sinclair, aka Tappa Zukie. More from the Blood and Fire label set up to re-release crucial roots reggae. It comes with excellent liner notes from Steve Barrow, a white English boy who was around when this dub collection was recorded and, almost 20 years later, recorded the interview that’s included inside.

Tappa Zukie was just 17 when his mother packed him off to England ‘cuase she didn’t like the company he was keeping. He returned to JA in 1974, and hung round with legendary producer Bunny Lee. He bugged Lee so much that he was eventually given eight rhythm tracks, voiced them in two hours, and came up with the MPLA album. The ‘MPLA’ track resurfaces here in dub, along with a whole bunch of well-known rhythms from people like Robbie Shakespeare, Earl ‘Chinna’ Smith and Santa Davis, collectively known as the Musical Intimidators.

Tappa knows where to find the reverb button, but mostly his dub is created by dropping instruments in and out of the mix, all recorded in King Tubby’s studio, with that lengendary warm sound, like summer never went away. The man himself is still in JA today, with his own

pressing plant and a catalogue of artists like U Roy, Max Romeo and Brigadier Jerry.

MARK REVINGTON SWERVEDRIVER Ejector Seat Reservation (Tri-Star) Perhaps they weren’t dropped by Creation because of this album. Perhaps. Swervedriver have gone all psychedelic on us and, lets be honest, that’s not what we wanted from them. Even the album title points to their escapist desires. Ejector Seat opens with an instrumental, ‘Single Finger Salute’, but it’s not a raging, pulsing, two-headed sex beast, it’s a polite little mood piece. Track two, ‘Bring Me the Head of the Fortune Teller’, touches on country, and makes you wonder if their talent for a great chorus is long gone. What the hell has happened to the raging fire of the sons of Mustang Fords? (The title of track four, ‘Son of Jaguar E’, might explain something).

Ejector Seat is full of acoustic guitars and trippy effects. Yes, it is very relaxing, comparable to Ride’s Carnival of Light. But as nice as it all is, it sounds, ironically, like they've lost that Swervedriver feeling. The guts are being worn as garters. JOHN TAITE VARIOUS ARTISTS Sound and Pressure: Volume One (Pressure Sounds) More classic reggae, this time from the Pressure Sounds label, which is an offshoot of On U Sound. Volume One is a tasty taster of the artists available on the label, and compelling evidence of the good work they’re doing in bringing these classics out on CD. It opens with the easy lilting skank of Keith Hudson’s ‘Barbican Dub’, which appeared on the Brand CD as ‘Darkness Dub’. Then it’s straight into Horace Andy’s ‘Problems’, which he recut for his In the Light/Dub set. Augustus Pablo’s melodica gets a workout over the top of congas for ‘Ras Menilik Congo'. There’s Prince Far I, more Keith Hudson, Little Roy and, the stand out, the tortured vocals of Black Skin the Prophet on ‘Red

Blood'. A vital collection for anyone into heartbeat rhythms. MARK REVINGTON THE LEVELLERS Zeitgeist (China Records) There probably isn’t a nice way of saying it: the Levellers sound like the 90s version of Dexy’s Midnight Runners. It’s the violins, you know, the folk abomination that turns any attempt at rock and roll into fiddly diddly diddle dos. They’re so bloody ‘of the land’ you hope they go the whole hog and travel in ye olde caravans, dressed in medieval rags, playing to squirrels and peasants in forrest clearings. Mr Leveller likes to say 'hey' in every song, he goes on about how ‘dreaming birds have flown’, and sings of ‘the goddess of everything burned’ and ‘Mr Tree is a friend to me’. Well, he didn’t sing the tree one, but you get the picture. I guess if you wanted a spot of the Waterboys and Back To The Planet sitting around a cauldron of weed water, then this sort of carry on would thrill you out of your dungarees. Anyone else should just tell them to folk off. JOHN TAITE VARIOUS ARTISTS Judge Dredd Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (Sony 550 Mustc/Epic Soundtrax) Here’s one that’s been flexing my CD player’s programme button. With new tracks, all essential for collectors, from the Cure (the impassioned ‘Dredd Song’), The The (the foreboding ‘Darkness Falls’) and the Cocteau Twins (the sublime 'Need Fire'), plus White Zombie’s way rockin' ‘SuperCharger Heaven’, the good groove of Leftfield’s ‘Release the Pressure’, and Alan Silvestri’s ten-sion-filled orchestral score, it's certainly an eclectic bag, and not one you often feel the need to empty all at once.

I reccommend playing the disc in two parts — the first five tracks to get you moving, and the orchestral tracks to keep you put. This has got to be the best project Sylvester Stallone’s face (in full Judge Dredd regalia, recognisable only by its sneer) has endorsed in quite some

BRONWYN TRUDGEON