albums

Rip It Up, Issue 231, 1 November 1996, Page 29

albums

SHIHAD Shihad (Wildside) It’s never been in doubt that Shihad know what makes for a rockin’ good song. Even when writing monstrous riff-fuelled numbers like Churn’s ‘Screwtop’, and Killjoy’s ‘Bitter’, they were never frightened of using melody to maximum effect. Now, with their third album Shihad, the Wellington four-piece delve deeper into the pop scene, yet lose nothing of their long standing distance from the middle ground. In recent interviews Shihad have found it tricky to find adequate words to describe the shift in their sound, “more songy”, has been the most often quoted response. But ultimately, that’s exactly what’s happened. No longer are they constructing complex, all-encompassing epics, having adopted on Shihad, the simpler verse I chorus. Coupled with this, Jon Toogood’s vocals have been pushed to upfront, providing songs like ‘Home Again’, ‘Leo Song’, and ‘Yr Head Is A Rock’ with the basis of their melodic punch. On Shihad, of most surprise to longtime fans will be the almost-ballads, ‘Attack’, ‘Missionary’, and ‘Boat Song’, that in

combination with the aforementioned songs, give the album a definite mellow feel in places. That said, Shihad is not a//about pop. ‘Hate Boys’, ‘Pig Bop’, and ‘Outta Phase’, are nasty slabs of groove-driven rock, while the heaviness and pace of ‘Ghost From The Past’ and ‘La La Land’, are reminiscent of Killjoy-eta Shihad, and for solid, four-on-the-floor rock, ‘A Day Away’ is unsurpassable. Viewed in the context of Devolve to Shihad, the difference in styles is astonishing, but there’s no question as to whether or not Shihad are moving forward. Shihad boasts an awesome collection of songs, that in the truest sense of the phrase, simply rock. And that is all they, and their fans, have ever wanted (them) to do. JOHN RUSSELL HDU Sum Of The Few (Flying Nun) It’s easy to become irritated when an overly excited, anally obsessed music geek informs you (with each new discovery) that certain albums are “heaps better on drugs”. Undoubtedly, with the use of stimulants, a great deal of music can sound

‘enhanced’, or reveal noises and textures that aren’t immediately obvious to the naked ear — but does music improve drastically with the ingestion of Class A? Nah. It has to stand up in an unaltered state or else what’s the point. Enter, Sum Of The Few, the debut album from Dunedin trio, HDD. Sum Of The Few is a record built on constantly changing moods, and if you’ve freed your mind in a dimly Jit room, falling into a similarly random headspace certainly delivers a rewarding experience. On the other side of the coin, confronting HDD at full volume with all senses intact results in a mindfuck in a league of its own. Beginning with ‘Activation’, HDU take you on a rollercoaster ride, with Tristan Dingeman (vocals/gat) using an unpredictable blend of bludgeoning distortion and tension-building space to affect the required feels, while underneath, the rhythm section of Neil Phillips (bass) and Dino Karlis (drums) nail down taut, sleazy grooves the size of a planet. It works best on songs like ‘Accessible’, ‘Activation’, and (especially) the oddly soothing ‘A Tagging Decision’, when Dingeman wanders off to explore; laying out ominous chunks of schizo-noise, occasionally joining Phillips and Karlis to deliver ascending explosions of gat noise and beats. By it’s sonically brutal nature, Sum Of The Few recalls moments of Bailter Space and Spud, though HDU create darker atmospheres than Parker, and co., achieved in part, by using vocals more sparingly than Spud ever did. . If you like your rock music, unforgiving, intelligent, and affecting, vote HDU. Though contrary to at least one opinion, they don’t sound better on drugs, whether you are or not is of no consequence. However, (for) a free t(r)ip, HDU are more intense when your eyes are closed. JOHN RUSSELL XTC Fossil Fuel: The XTC Singles 1977-92 (Virgin) A typical piece of humorous selfdepreciation for the title from Andy Partridge, and Fossil Fuel is a double CD re-visit to the English and eccentric pop created by these four punks from Swindon. The 31 songs on display are not only singles, they’re also a representative overview of the best songs penned by Partridge and his trusty songwriting sidekick, Colin Moulding. Always the reliable melodic McCartney to Partridge’s unpredictable edgy Lennon, Moulding wrote some lovely stuff, and ‘Ten Feet Tali’, ‘Generals And

Majors’, and the very Neil Finn-ish ‘Wonderland’, certainly haven’t been dimmed by the passage of time. The victim of several nervous breakdowns, Partridge’s songs were often strung out between depressions like ‘Wait Till Your Boat Goes Down’, and strident social reflections such as ‘Respectable Street’ and ‘Great Fire’. And yet he could come up with fine uplifting love songs like ‘The Mayor of Simpleton’, and on his early classic ‘This Is Pop', he asks the perennial older generation question, ‘What do you call that noise that you put on?’ Just great pop son. GEORGE KAY JOHN MELLENCAMP Mr Happy Go Lucky - (Mecury) ■ TOM PETTY & THE HEARTBREAKERS . She’s The One: • Songs & Music From The Motion Picture (Warners) ' - The title is of course a ruse. If Mellencamp’s happy he’s done a good job of keeping it to himself, and if he’s lucky, luck would involve suffering a heart attack at 40 odd. Mellencamp’s humanism has in the past turned in some mighty. songs ('Jackie Brown’, ‘Pink Houses’, and the still affecting ‘Jack & Diane’), but generally the albums have been stodgy, turgid affairs. Lucky teams Mellencamp up with dance man Junior. Vasquez in an attempt to push a rather well worn , envelope — and it’s not bad. As usual there’s one song (Key West Intermezzo ‘I Saw You First’) guaranteed to jump out of a radio and into an empathetic heart. Meilencamp is of course King of allowable schmaltz and there’s also too many songs which suffer from the Mellencamp curse — ie. a recitation of cliches (see ‘Life is Hard’) over the beat of a great rock band (drummer Kenny Aronoff). If you’re a white middle aged rocker with a beer or two in the fridge you’ll maybe let this pass. Others though should be : warned. . Michael Jackson may be attempting to claim the title King of Pop, but lately, song for song. Tom Petty sounds a more deserving contender. She’s The One started life as a movie soundtrack, but turned into Petty and the Heartbreakers new album, and sure enough it’s one of their finest. Certainly ‘California’, ‘Walls’, ‘Hope You Never’, and ‘Angel Dream (No. 4)’ are the work of a craftsman extraordinaire. There’s plenty of bile here too (“You never sucked like that for no-one else”, he spits out in ‘Grew Up Fast’), something Petty's always been good at

— witness the splendid cover of Lucinda Williams’ ‘Change The Locks’ (note: Petty has recently undergone divorce proceedings). ‘California’, a sub 3 minute epic, confirms his position as poet laureate of West Coast Rock, and Petty’s sense of humour and general tunefulness throughout could teach Meilencamp a few lessons. GREG FLEMING THELA Thela (Ecstatic Peace) WHITE WINGED MOTH White Winged Moth (Poon Village) A pair of local releases that, by one of those rock ’n’ roll quirks of fate, are probably far better known in the US than in NZ. Thela are a three-piece deal, heavy on the distortion and drone, but with some nice melodic lines drifting through the haze now and then. It gets a touch bogged down in a grim-faced, alternoboy feel at times, but there are definitely some interesting and unique ideas happening here, and given time and a bit more abandon, Thela could create some noise of serious consequence. The White Winged Moth, meanwhile, is Thela guy Dean Roberts going the solo-to-four-track-thing route with just a piano and a guitar. It’s obviously not as dense or immediate as Thela, but when it gels there are some great fragile music. It seems both albums work because the musicians take some non-standard ‘rock’ ideas and push them to whatever seems like a logical conclusion. It’s not going to get them any Number 1 hits, but it makes for some interesting listening if you’re willing to take the chance. KIRK GEE RED HOUSE PAINTERS Songs For A Blue Guitar (Island) San Franciso based Red House Painters are really a vehicle for the sonic and emotional obsessions of leader (and producer) Mark Kozelek. Things start quiet — the lovely ‘Have You Forgotten’ and the title track then move into louder and at times less successful areas, with the electric epics ‘Make Like Paper’ and later unrecognisable stabs at McCartney’s ‘Silly Love Songs’ and Yes’s(’) ‘Long Distance Runaround’, see the amps up to 10 and Kozelek single-handedly attempting to revive the guitar solo as meaningful currency. Throughout the influence of Neil Young is tangible (Kozelek’s voice is a dead ringer) though his skills aren’t always up to his ambitions — his guitar-playing reaches for giddy heights but only occasionally attains them. At 75 minutes it’s also a touch long but Kozelek’s also the sort of talent which demands indulgence. Essential listening then, if you’ve ever thrilled to Marquee Moon, mid-period Young, or just like the way that electricity and heart can create a cool kind of static. GREG FLEMING EARTH Pentastar, In The Style of Demons POISON IDEA Pig’s Last Stand PAUL SCHUTZE Site Anubis ELEVATOR TO HELL Parts 1 -3 JEREMY ENIGK Return of The Frog Queen JAKE So Wound FASTBACKS New Mansions In Sound (All —Sub Pop) Proof there is life on Seattle’s Sub Pop label after Nirvana arrives in the form of these Flying In imports.

Nothing throat-grabbingly essential, but, as you’d expect from a label designed to cater for non-conformity, each release has, at least, it’s own maverick twist, worthwhile or not.

And that must mean Earth’s Dylan Carlson, a cult astronaut wilfully avoiding commerciality. A great philosophy, but you’d want your music to have more mystique and more imagination than the elephantine grunge riffs that make up much of Earth’s repertoire. The techno-ish ‘Crooked Axis’ and the two-note piano hypnotism of ‘Sonar and Depth Charge' suggest Carlson is not just a bearded face, but otherwise Pentastar hasn’t got what it takes to warrant cult status.

Easy listening is still on hold as Poison Idea take the stage for their last show, dated June 1993. Unheard of in these parts, Poison Idea sport one very beefy dude, and at least a couple of others that could tag wrestle, as they blitz through cute headbanging numbers like ‘Death, Agony and Screams’. Spiritual godfathers like the Ramones and Bauhaus get a weather check, and these reference points sum up Poison Idea’s pogo-youth attraction to their frantic disciples. The rest of can look on in bemusement, right? From three chords to no chords, and the percussion riddled ambient landscapes of Paul Schutze loom ahead. With ten albums already behind him, Schutze is no stranger to improvised music. His forte is spontaneous percussion over an undulating hum of ambient backdrop, with Bill Laswell’s bass and Paul Bjorkenheim’s guitar adding to the texture of future urban disorientation. Admirable, but over the seven tracks the scenery doesn’t change sufficiently to sustain interest.

Elevator To Hell sounds like some overdue antidote to Led Zeppelin's bloated ‘Stairway to Heaven’, and musically and philosophically perhaps it is. Hell is solo Rick White, who boasts he recorded all of his 27 songs on the day of their creation. While’s Hell isn’t that daunting, like a typical do-it-yourselfer, a lot of his songs have a thinly produced, natural, uncluttered clatter, with fragile tunes on the side. Unpretentious and likeable. By comparison Jeremy Enigk is lush 10-fi. The former leader of Sunny Day Real Estate, Enigk was forced into solo status when the rhythm section of the band deserted to the Foo Fighters. Still, on this debut, Return of the Frog Queen, he gets to indulge in his weak-

ness for stringed instruments as the ideal complements to the folksie intensity of his vocal approach. Like an orchestrated 90s Nick Drake, Enigk is an understated and acquired passion. Fastbacks operate in the conventional world of female vocalists fronting four-piece bands with male drummers, writing verse-chorus-verse pop songs with tunes and guitars. The Fastbacks were formed 17 years ago, the virtual grandpappies/’mammies of the Seattle scene and although they still sound like breezy pop whiz-kids on songs like ‘555’ and ‘Stay at Home’, there’s a bittersweet bite beneath the breeziness from a band that’s seen its share of the underbelly. Highly recommended. As is Jake’s second album. Initially an all-female quartet from Halifax, Nova Scotia, male person Mike Belitsky got the nod for the skins on So Wound. Jake (an acronym from their first names before Mike’s arrival) have an identifiable country vibe to their pop (Emmylou Harris is a name they drop). This gives their songs about relationships, like ‘Over You’ and ‘Sign of Life’, a feeling of durability, a sense they will outlast the instant flurry of pop. GEORGE KAY JOHN MARTYN And. (Go! Discs) Seems like signing to a new label has kick-arsed Martyn’s muse again. His last couple of albums with Permanent largely consisted of reworked material from his previous three decades. Shit-hot versions of great songs mind you, but it kind’ve got you wondering whether all that whiskey-curing on the voice might also have pickled the creative juices. Well here’? rrinemew numbers, and the best news is that two or three of them show Martyn's writing back on top form. ‘Downward Pull of Human Nature’, not only has a terrific title and a riveting opening line, but it’s set to one of his most memorable melodies in years. And if most tracks are taken at a low-ish cruise, at least ‘Step It Up’ shows that Martyn can still work himself into a hard funk. He’s helped along by a crack band that’s a mixture of old and new friends. Phil Collins, for instance, has drummed and/or sung backup on and off since the late 70s (In fact his work with Martyn has long been one of Collin’s most redeeming

features in some eyes). And over these sinuous bubbling grooves, Martyn growls and slurs his delivery in time honoured manner. While the late 60s folk years seem long gone, in their place are occasional hints that Martyn may have been listening to .some hiphop. But by the end of And', you’re left with more of an image of after hours languor in a jazz and blues club. Smoke may hang in the air, the bottle may be down to its last nip, but the aging guy at the mic has still got what it takes. What’s more he’s rolled all those disparate influences into something original and precious. Be thankful and enjoy. PETER THOMSON RL BURNSIDE . ' A Ass Pocket O’ Whiskey (Matador) ' -60 something, and rockin’ around the States occasionally with the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, RL Burnside is the grandfather of fugged up delta swamp blues. I’m a lot underqualified for singing the blues praises, the extent of blues in my collection starts with the Gun Club and ends with Pussy Galore, however, when it comes kicking outta Matador Records I’ll lend an ear, albeit a green one. This is RL’s fifth album, this time playing without his usual kin folk, and teaming up with some bass deficient New York trio. I just wonder how much of the whammy was put over trad licks by the backing boy’s mutatin’ noise. One thing’s for sure though, RL likes to cuss. And foul-mouthed he is, all over highlights like the VU ‘Gift’ number that is ‘The Criminal Iside Me’, the chugging BFM playlisted ‘Going Down South’, and the minimalist ‘Tojo Told Hitler' ditty. RL competes with the Pussy (or should that be he sure wipes them) on the final track ‘Have You Ever Been Lonely’, a total fucked up noise fest. Straight from the bayou distillery. ; - MAC HODGE IL TOP Rhythmeen (RCA) I’ve lost count of the number of times TL Top’s funny, cocky, ragged R&B bass has been used in movies to introduce a ‘bad bunch of guys’ — a beer-gut, a dirty pair of cowboy boots, something dodgy out there in the pick- , up — of course, in many ways formu- - laic movie and formulaic ZZ Top deserve each other but, hell, you can

still have a lot of fun. This, their fifteenth album, throws in a few curveballs — the perennial drum loop here and there, guitar effects for Africa, lyrics that don’t bear repeating (so, why, for Chrissakes, a lyric sheet?!), although ‘My Mind is Gone”s

— ‘lt’s the smell of the dress / That made my mind a mess’ is kind of wonderful — but mostly it’s still the ZZ Top the bad guys walk into movies to, that fills Rhythmeen. Producers Bill. Harn and Billy Gibbons himself, sure know how to get a hell of a guitar sound, which might sound like faint praise, but isn’t. Nothing , however to match the instant classics of their recent past (‘Legs’, etc.)..Best track: ‘What’s;Up With That’, which makes one miss Jimmy Vaughan’s Fabulous Thunderbirds all the more. ’’ . . GREG FLEMING PULP Countdown'92-83 . . ' ■ (MCA) - _■ Well we were told and told that Pulp had been around since ‘B3 so someone put together this compilation to prove it. All the hits and misses (mainly misses) that Jarvis and his various line-ups mustered before 1992 — before they became popular in other

words. How wrong everyone. was to praise them for a fashionable retro sound, they’ve always sounded like that, it just took them 12 years to catch on. Disk two is pretty forgettable. And I’m sure Jarvis would want us to forget his saddo Masters of the Universe and It days. Disk one is more of their familiar cynic pop full of Cockers vocal posery, synthy 80s kitchery. . A definite must for the fanatical fans, but not a great start if you want to introduce yourself in the opulent kitchen sink drama that is Pulp. Get Different Class first. -' - JOHN TAITE ONE GOOD EYE Let Go My . . FIVE BY NINE Recognise LATEX GENERATION 360 Degrees (All — Onefoot) ■ Local label Onefoot Records continues to do its bit for the international punk community by releasing album after album of three chord wonders from bands you’ve probably never heard of. And as these three new pickings from Onefoot show, the quality of bands differ almost as much as Dennis Rodman’s hair colours.

One Good Eye are a four-piece from the bustling metropolis of Casper, Wyoming. They play a warm style of fuzzed out punk reminiscent of early Dinosaur Jr (especially on ‘Waiting For The Sun’), although vocalist Chris Lee sounds more like a whiny David Kilgour than a whiny J Mascis. About half of Let Go My E.G.O is excellent, original driving punk, the rest doesn’t quite make it. Still, going by this debut release, One Good Eye could have an interesting future ahead.

Which is more than can be said for Five By Nine. This Atlanta act travels down the usual punk road only diverting to introduce their classic rawk influences. They name check Deep Purple in their bio and they’re obviously not kidding; power riffs suddenly give way to twiddly guitar breaks at any possible moment. It’s a combination that doesn’t work, and if it wasn’t for the.clever lyric play on songs such as ‘Pigskin Ambush’ (a brilliant skate anthem), there wouldn’t be much to write home about at all.

It’s up to Latex Generation to really show what this punk thing’s all about. Their debut 360 Degrees is a wonderful piece of power-pop. Punchy, energetic, good, hooks, good songs — Latex Generation are easily one of the best bands to emerge from this much documented new-punk scene. It's refreshing to find a band that is able to string a sentence together as well as knock out a melody or two. What’s more, these guys actually harmonise vocals on a few of the songs — outrageous! Latex Generation have taken all the best bits from their obvious influence, the Ramones, and added their own ideas. All in all, a great find. ■ DOMINIC WAGHORN INSURGE Power to the Poison People (Warners) You can’t question the intentions or the commitment of Australian technoindustrialists, Insurge. As they plainly and bluntly say throughout the course of their new album, there’s a lot of bad shit going on in the world and it would be a really, really good thing if it stopped right now. Unfortunately no one ever taught these guys about the concept of subtlety. Their straight-up approach will come across as completely right-on to those who already agree that the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund, the GATT agreement and the Free Market are all

tools of the devil. But to anyone else, the response will be, ‘jeez mate, give us a break’.

On the album’s first single ‘Political Prisoners’, singer Chris Dubrow (in a voice which has an uncanny resemblance to Clint from PWEI) repeats, ‘This song is for all the political prisoners both here and around the world’. Cool, does that mean I don’t have to listen to it? On ‘IMF’, the International Monetary Fund becomes, ‘lnternational Mother Fuckers’. There’s nothing wrong with this sort of politicising, but why do they have to be such po-faced serious bastards about it all? Even the sleeve notes read like the latest edition of Western World Conspiracies Monthly. Insurge could learn from compatriots Regurgitator, that mixing politics and music doesn’t necessarily have to mean giving up your sense of humour in the process. DOMINIC WAGHORN STEVE VAI Fire Garden (Epic) Guitar master Steve Vai has done it again. He’s gone and made another album which is chock-full of amazingly intricate and seemingly impossible fretwork, whammy attack weirdness, and general riff-o-rama. He’s even gone to the trouble of doing some singing, and he’s got such a cool voice it makes you wonder why he hasn’t utilised his vocals more in the past. Fire Garden would have been a double LP in the vinyl age, as the playing time is over 74 minutes and it’s divided into two distinct parts. Steve’s singing is saved for phase two, but of course, with Mr Vai the guitar is always within biting distance. The only way to listen to this stuff is loud, but be warned — the first track, ‘There’s a Fire in the House’, will make you jump out of your skin with its gunfire, sirens, and wailing Ibanez sounds. That leads into the Satch-like ‘Crying Machine’, which is a funked-out, catchy little number that burns right on through to the final fading note. It features Stu Hamm on bass, but everything else (apart from drums) on almost every other track is played, engineered and produced by Steve.

. The ‘Fire Garden Suite’ itself is truly a wonder to behold that has obviously taken a great deal of skill, discipline, and musical love to put together. The intro is in fact ‘Bangkok’ from the

musical Chess, played the Vai way with heavy emphasis on the Middle Eastern themes. The listener is taken on a fourpart journey, with some surprising twists and turns along the way. A lengthy piano piece builds in complexity to the stratosphere-reaching guitar finale, and there’s more than a hint of Steve’s links to the Zappa school of thinking. Elsewhere on the album is the superluzz of ‘Blowfish’, the richly layered ‘Dyin’ Day’, and the highly melodic ‘Hand on Heart’. The ripping, shredding ‘Little Alligator’ screams in a way like Jimi could play (it was he who lit the fire in the first place), and on ‘Warm Regards’ Steve wrings tears from his strings. If that doesn’t move you in some way it means you have been listening to that bland gloop on the radio too long. Fire Garden rates right up there with Passion and Warfare as Steve Vai’s finest work to date. GEOFF DUNN

PATTI ROTHBERG Between The 1 And The 9 (Chrysalis) A few months ago Patti Rothburg turned up in that tail-end music slot on aletterman episode I’d taped. She was gangly, early 20s, with stringy ribbons in her long dark hair. Nothing special about her voice, though she also played lead guitar fronting a threebloke band. But what kept me playing the video was the nifty song. It’s here on the album, along with another dozen originals just as good. Tunes that hook you in so quickly you fear they’re going to drop away equally fast. But they haven’t yet, and I’ve been pumping the. album for weeks. Rothberg plays all guitars — sweet acoustic through to post-grunge power pop — as well as most bass parts. Other contributions range from Hammond organ to a string quartet. ’ Attitudinally, Patti's yer standard sensitive/stroppy New Yorker with a smart turn of phrase (“To call you a

dirty dog would be an insult to the fleas.”). It all adds up to a varied, but consistently impressive debut. Apparently the album title refers to the railway routes that connect at a subway station where Rothberg was discovered busking. On the evidence here, she deserves to become a star. PETER THOMSON DELTA 72 The R ’n’ B of Membership (Touch & Go) Yeah, I know I keep touting some new and unlikely combo as the greatest garage/punk thing, but these nobodies just keep pushing out albums of no uncertain fiery brilliance, and they really can make any given alternative rock band sound like they’re just going through the motions. Case in point, the DC-based Delta 72. Straight down the . line guitar/bass/drums/keyboards sound, but they’ve obviously spent too many broke nights at home listening to old punk 45s and mid-60s garage rock. There’s the perfect balance of gritty soulfulness and tight musicianship, without falling into that clinical Jon Spencer hipster pose (Sorry, but it seems awful hard to have the blues with a trust fund and a gig at Details magazine). These kids aren’t afraid to head deep into greaser psychedelic territory, then come back out and do the simple riffing with girl/boy vocal trade-off thing. Delta 72 achieve. that rare muscial Zen of making what is basically a garage rock album without sounding retro or cliched. KIRK GEE SATCHEL The Family (Sony) Satchel are a Seattle based band fronted and masterminded by underground hero Shawn Smith (ex of Brad, and Sub Pop’s, Pigeonhead). Smith possesses one of the most beautiful and haunting voices heard in rock since Jeff Buckley (even the normally staid Mojo magazine was moved to name him one of the 50 best singers of all time). On The Family, Smith indulges his neo-hippy mysticism while his band do their level best to sound like Kiss, Hawkwind, the Doobie Brothers, and Sly Stone all at once. From the delicate ‘Tomorrow’, and ‘lsn’t That Right’; to the metal screech of ‘Some More Trouble’, Satchel play with surety and passion, and the

music, which Smith accurately describes as “a weird, kinda spacey soul music”, is as compelling as it is unusual.

Of course the ghosts of a hundred long deceased concept albums, and countless incense burning scribblers, haunt (and the guitar solo in ‘Not Too Late’ is archetype), but it sure makes a nice change from a pedigree of glue and safety pins — indeed, don’t be surprised to find The Family become part of yours. GREG FLEMING THE BLACKEYED SUSANS Mouth To Mouth (Hi Gloss) After releasing his breakthrough album What’s Going On, Marvin Gaye commented that he wanted to look at physical love in a much more intimate way; in other words, he wanted to forget about holding hands and go onto hot shags on the kitchen table. Since then basically everyone except the Sally Army have carried on, in verse and chorus, about the beast with two backs — to varying levels of maturity.- . The Blackeyed Susans think they’re the most porkable plonkers to ever grace ’Stralia, and sensitive with it; take a listen to the title track, ‘Mouth to Mouth’ — it might be sensitive (Ha! We are talking Australians here), but subtle it ain’t. So, the subject matter is a bit ‘2O- - over his acne-it made him more sensitive and caring than the rest-hair in a bob’, but the sharp, clear production and the sparse instrumentation does make this album stand out more than most (parts reminded me of fellow ocker Ed Kuepper’s classic Electrical Storm). So, not a bad record, and (probably an ideal tool for scoring first year English lit’ student chicks (if you want to). JESSE GARON SHERYL CROW Sheryl Crow (Polydor) ' A Crow could, quite understandably, cite a case of mistaken identity after her massive hit ‘All I Wanna Do r topped the. charts worldwide. If her audience expected anything like that song’s wilful cheeriness, this, her second self-titled album, is gonna disappoint. Crow says, “It’s full of un-pretty, in your face, sometimes unpleasant, vulnerable emotion”, which is fine — the trouble is the songwriting smarts

(helped along here by former World Party man Jeff Trot) so evident on Tuesday Night... just aren’t there. The first single, ‘lf It Makes You Happy’, with its king-hit chorus almost makes it, but throughout there’s an air of fatigue and desperation which goes right down to doing ‘Hard To Make A Stand’ (a particularly ordinary Stonesy rocker) twice. Too many songs (‘Home’, .‘Oh Marie’, ‘Redemption Day’) sound like too many you’ve heard before, and too many others are just filler (‘A Change’, ‘Superstar’ and the annoyingly trite ‘Love Is a Good Thing'). J Verdict: Save your money for the new Lucinda Williams album. ' GREG FLEMING REACHAROUND Who’s Tommy Cooper (Trauma) Looking like a cross between the Blasters (early country punk outfit) and a West Coast ska band (sans blacks), Reacharound (gay sexual position?) are another LA band suffering an identity crisis. They rock, they square dance (one track’s called ‘Gene Autry’), they skank, but none of each in an all too convincing manner. Not since early Bad Brains has anyone managed two’ genres on the one album with assured style, so how these guys expect to manage three defies rational thought. I guess the best I can say is... nice try! • MAC HODGE VARIOUS ARTISTS Crank Hog Cluck Compilation I Valve Magazine No. 8 - • (Yellow Bike) • . Another collection of print profiles and a’ CD full of material that you’ll either see as a valuable document of New Zealand’s non-mainstream, 10-fi DIY musical culture, or a great reason to shout, ‘Shut the fuck up!’ King Loser are the big name in the magazine’s index (no Biafra this time, see Valve No. 7), with Mr Heazlewood and Ms Pavlova chewing the fat with some Radio One jock. Also interviewed is Roy Colbert, semi-legendary proprietor of Dunedin’s Records Records, the shop Martin Phillipps used to loiter in as a nipper.

As for Crank Hog Cluck, well, ‘acquired taste’ is definitely a fitting term. Expect primitive recordings, an absence of political correctness, and household names like Flaming Werepigs, Drugs vs Grandchildren and

Chapel of Gristle. Some readers would have no hesitation in describing the content of this compilation as fundamentally unlistenable. Regardless of this, two facts remain undeniable: (a) the featured artists thoroughly enjoyed producing their art, and (b) Creative New Zealand forked out to have the CD produced. That’s all that really matters. DAVID HOLMES

VARIOUS ARTISTS Espresso Espresso (Polydor) VARIOUS ARTISTS Inflight Entertainment . (Polydor) If one thing can really put a stinking sock in the drawer of my Saturday afternoon, its going to do the cheap class trawl through the second-hand record bins and finding them devoid of the sorta stuff they used to be made for. There are new sections in record stores called ‘Easy Listening’ now, which translates as ‘Records for Four Times the Price They Were Before Anyone Liked Them’; but I always liked them, you see. Doesn’t this mean me and all those other gentle people who’ve never been afraid to fly in the face of fashion (okay, the mums, the dads), should get some sort of a discount on this stuff? I think so. Or, alternatively, you could go and pick up these two swingin’ new compilations from a pair of easycore DJs going by the name of the Karminsky Experience. There’s a wealth of material worth hearing on Easy Street, and these guys have laid on 42 well worthy cuts of it across both albums. Espresso Espresso is better than coffee and, as its name may suggest, the perfect start to the day. It starts perfectly for that reason too, with Serge Gainsbourg’s ‘Couleur Cafe’ (be warned, like the dread bean, this song is an addictive morning additive). Inflight Entertainment, on the other hand, is the next best thing you’ll get to being there, with the bonus of no added jetlag. With Brigitte Bardot on board for two numbers, ‘Tu Veux, .Tu Veux Pas’ and. ‘St Tropez’ (you might like to think of the latter as a mighty supporting intro leading up to the theme from Eurotrash), you’d be a right muggins to miss this flight, if only to add these two to your pop culture collection. In addition to providing names for other such already adored tunes, there are plenty-of covers a newcomer to the class experience (has

the mania missed anyone?) may be surprised to recognise if they need to be thrown a rope. Though the Karminsky Experience may be a little precious about their classy predilections (face it, guys, there was a time when this stuff rang out in family sitting rooms around the globe), it’s wholly understandable — no one ever wants to share a good thing.

BRONWYN TRUDGEON