Metallica
Re-Load
(Elektra)
***1/2
On the cover of Metallica's last album, Load, was a shot
of what looked like some sort of surreal, kaleidoscopic
flames. In actuality, photographer Andres Serrano (best
known for his erotically charged, sometimes horrific
"History Of Sex" series) mixed his own sperm
with cow's blood to create the swirling orange, pink, and
red image. The word "controversial" would seem
to apply here -- much as it has for a good portion of
Metallica's career.
 Perhaps the biggest brouhaha came with the
band's major stylistic shift, beginning with the
multi-platinum Metallica album, which drew cries of
"sellout" from fans of the band's trademark
sound. Compared to earlier works like Kill 'Em All, Ride
the Lightning, and the legendary Master of Puppets, all
mainly featuring brutally fast and loud guitar, bass, and
drums, some die-hard devotees saw Metallica as Metallica
draped in Michael Bolton's clothing: Metallica Lite, if
you will.
But the band -- singer/guitarist James
Hetfield, drummer Lars Ulrich, lead guitarist Kirk
Hammett, and bassist Jason Newsted -- could give a fuck,
really. Evolution has become a focal point for them, as
evidenced by Load, which featured bluesy swagger, Pearl
Jam-ish melancholy, wicked boogie-woogie workouts, and a
surprisingly captivating bit o' country twang, as well as
a fair dose of the brain rattling crunch for which this
quintet is famous. So it should come as no surprise that
the 13 songs on Re-Load reflect continued growth, though
the basic tracks were laid down two years ago during the
Load sessions.
Famed producer Bob Rock again lets Metallica
be Metallica, on cuts like "Fuel," with its
attitude-heavy six-string fury. But it's his prodding of
the boys to flesh things out that makes him a perfect
match for this band. "The Memory Remains" is a
slow-grinding metal joy that morphs its way into a
haunting vocal chant by vocalist Marianne Faithfull, the
first-ever guest artist on a Metallica record.
"Devil's Dance," an account of near-hypnotic
domination, is powered along by the ballsy economy of
Newsted's bass and Ulrich's drums, with Hammett riffing
away with a measured yet slippery sense of abandon
alongside Hetfield's by-now-familiar, demonic caterwaul.
Lyrics get a tad sophomoric at times, as on
the tough-guy anthem "Bad Seed," which is
ultimately saved by its instrumental intensity. And,
virtually absent from Load, Hammett's wah-wah pedal is
busted out and dusted off once more on several cuts,
notably the nearly-seven-minute epic, "Where the
Wild Things Are."
With Re-Load, as with Load, Metallica's
emphasis continues to be on experimentation and expansive
arrangements. But some things never change: Serrano's
twisted artistic vision again graces the CD cover. Most
importantly, Hetfield, Ulrich, Hammett and Newsted show
they can still rock with the best, and are in no danger
whatsoever of becoming parodies of themselves -- a fate
that befalls far too many bands that reach Metallica's
levels of artistic and commercial success. -- John
Colling
Dar
Williams
End of the Summer
(Razor & Tie)
***1/2
Since her first album, The Honesty Room, Dar Williams has
grown up a lot. That disc was full of the kind of
heartfelt, naked emotion and fervent compassion that
makes you yawn occasionally (like an old Carly Simon
record). It echoed the laid-back, Earth-mama coffeehouse
rock that gave the '70s a bad name And yet, there was
something about the record which overcame the pained
earnestness and touched you.
End Of The Summer, Williams' third full-length
album in just over two years, shakes off any last shred
of post-hippie plaintiveness. The change in her music is
nothing short of profound. End might have been called Dar
Goes Electric -- not only has her musical denouement
changed, her lyrics now reflect a slightly older,
somewhat wiser Dar. A Dar not afraid to let humor into
her music.
There have been some great folkies: Joan Baez,
Judy Collins, Carolyn Hester, Rita Coolidge (before she
sold out). Sooner or later, though, they addressed the
limitations of the unadorned folk style and moved past it
-- for better or worse. And so has Dar. The timid New
England folkie has turned into a less-timid folk rocker,
with the aid of beloved New York vets the Nields, plus
friends Lucy Kaplansky and Richard Shindell (eminent folk
rockers all).
Williams' grace, humor and wit show on
"Are You Out There," the ode to late-night
radio; the sardonic indictment of "Party
Generation"; the weary travel humor of "Road
Buddy"; and "If I Wrote You," the gentle
eulogy for Townes Van Zandt. Never once does she lapse
into the preaching that marred her first efforts. She
gets her points across with laughs now, or at least with
gentle chuckles. Dar Williams has always been good; now
she's on the verge of being great.
-- Clark Novak
Various Artists
We Will Fall: The Iggy Pop Tribute
(Royalty)
***
With a recent barrage of tribute albums invading record
stores, the initial response to yet another tribute album
would have to be, "Tribute schmibute." And
whatever happened to reserving tributes for artists who
are dead, or at least nearly so? But We Will Fall, a
tribute to the godfather of punk, Iggy Pop, is different.
The album's line-up is quite diverse,
consisting on the one hand of Iggy peers like Joey
Ramone, Debbie Harry and Blondie (appearing under the
pseudonym Adolph's Dog), and Joan Jett; and, on the other
end of the spectrum, Iggy disciples like Nada Surf,
Superdrag and Red Hot Chili Peppers. The 20 tracks cover
a career that has spanned almost 30 years. Standouts in
the line-up are the first single, Joan Jett and the
Blackhearts' version of "Real Wild Child."
Misfit's version of "I Got a Right" is fast,
angry and suiting, with the same raw energy that we are
used to getting from Iggy Pop. And, of course, "Lust
For Life" by N.Y. Loose is fun.
The best thing about this tribute album is
that every cent of the proceeds goes to benefit LIFEbeat,
the music industry's response to the AIDS crisis. So,
even though the real Iggy is always preferable, his
tribute album is worth acquiring for many reasons.
-- Jill Albert
G. Love and Special Sauce
Yeah, It's That Easy
(OKeh/Epic)
**1/2
Falling into the Blues Traveler/Dave Matthews Band genre
quite easily, the latest release from G. Love and Special
Sauce is full of dead cliches and lack-of-soul soul.
"You keep using me just like a stepping stone"
is a sentiment we've heard in R&B, rock, and indie
punk... G. Love does nothing new with it.
But we all keep eating at McDonald's because
it's familiar. As is the music on Yeah, It's That Easy.
"Slipped Away (The Ballad of Lauretha Vaird)"
is a sweet, Red Hot Chili Peppers familiar -- sounding
like a song one would write about his mother. And, though
familiar, it's always refreshing to hear a song which
promotes racial harmony, as does the title track.
"I-76" is a quick, dribbling tribute
to Charles Barkley, Larry Bird and several other
basketball greats. "Lay Down the Law" is
inconsistent -- angry vocals meet sunny, late-afternoon,
barbecue-in-the-park hi-hat, tinny drums and whistled
intro.
The piano, when it chimes in, is jazzy and
bright, the muddy bass attempts the funkiness displayed
by the guitar, and G. Love' vocals sway back and forth
from quirky, reggae-rap to smooth soul, with an honesty
we can only accept from a white boy from the Midwest.
-- Jeffrey M. Barker
The
Pixies
Death to the Pixies
(4AD/Elektra)
***
The last gasp from the now-defunct Pixies, the two-disc
Death to the Pixies, is a grim reminder of the band's
1991 demise. The problem is, if you loved the Pixies,
this collection will not add to what you already own.
Only two songs which never made it onto albums are
included: "Rock Music" and "Into the
White." Rather than mine some of their other
rarities -- such as "Weird at My School" and
the Pixies' cover of "The Heaven Song" from
Eraserhead -- Death otherwise settles for putting
already-known songs in a different order.
The live disc, recorded from a 1990 show in
the Netherlands, is a refreshing, clean recording done at
the height of their career. Spanning the era between
Surfer Rosa and Doolittle, it prefigures work from
Bossanova and captures some of Black Francis' on-stage,
pissed-off demeanor. Also, if you don't want to buy every
album, the mix covers its bases by including such
essentials as "Here Comes Your Man,"
"Velouria," "Caribou," and
"Gigantic."
Yet as Gary Smith (the producer who discovered
the band) laments in the liner notes, "[T]he world
into which Black Francis started screaming still heard it
like a scream and not like fashion." The inability
of this retrospective to show more of what "it"
was all about is the real loss for those of us who still
scream along.
-- Jeffrey G. Lytle
Space
Monkeys
The Daddy of Them All
(Interscope)
**1/2
The answer to the question of whether The Daddy of
Them All is worthy of your invaluable time depends upon
your personal taste. The Space Monkeys release is an odd,
yet interesting fusion of pounding, supersonic house
beats, incorrigible guitar melodies, a wide variety of
other noises to assist in the unique experience, and a
Liam Gallagher-like voice. Basically, it's a funky
rock/pop album with a heavy club feel.
The radio-friendly "Sugar Cane" is
probably the most vibrant, innovative, feel-good track on
the entire album. Its catchy tune is hard to shake out of
your system. Unfortunately, it's not at all
representative of how the rest of the record sounds.
After accustoming yourself to their screeching, primal
beats, you might find yourself indifferent to the Space
Monkeys' poppier ballads, which contain absolutely no
hint of hip-hop. To their disadvantage, most of these
"ballads" are lacking in emotion, texture, and
intensity, sometimes making it rather difficult to take
them seriously.
However, The Daddy is unconventional, if
nothing else. It's a fun album, no doubt. But it's also
the kind of album that you can get tired of too easily.
-- Irene Yadao
Ivy
Apartment Life
(Atlantic)
***1/2
In the winter of '95, I stumbled across a collection
album by Madonna called Something To Remember. It was a
hasty compilation release for the Christmas frenzy. I
grew up snubbing Madonna, but this thing was beautiful.
Gone were the hyper-lustrous dance beats and sickly
lyrics. Gone were the childish anthems of sexuality and
I'm-OK-you're-OK Tony Robbins crap. The record was a
soulful, woeful, nugget of melody, beauty and insight, a
side of Madonna I had not known before.
So, when I say that Ivy sounds like Madonna, I
am not saying, to paraphrase the late, great, Charles
Bukowski, that you should run away like wild horses over
the hills. Dominique Durand, who landed in NY from
France, leads the pack with her provocative voice and
emotion-driven lyrics. Missing, though, are the sappy
chimings that too often accompany art from the heart.
Durand is almost as sullen as the Cowboy
Junkies' Margo Timmins. Almost as energetic as the
Rentals' Cherielynn Westrich. Almost as startling as the
Breeders' Kim Deal. Almost as ethereal as Enya. And, God
bless her, almost as stoned as Nico.
She has that "I'm from Europe"
reserve in her singing that typifies
"Frippitronics" (coined by Robert Fripp), i.e.
the spaces between the notes are as important as the
notes themselves. That reserve is the buttress of this
disc and at the heart of what makes it work, and work
well.
-- Edwin Decker
Lagwagon
Double Plaidinum
(Fat Wreck Chords)
*1/2
Since Nirvana returned punk to the public eye in 1990
and, a few years later, Green Day made it palatable for
the mainstream, a seemingly endless parade of
third-generation bands have quickly made the genre very
tired and predictable. So I guess it is not completely
Lagwagon's fault that their fourth long-player, Double
Plaidinum, is a prime example of how unexceptional an
album can be. The Santa Barbara-based quintet might just
be victims of their own success: Had Nirvana and Green
Day not broken, labels like Fat Wreck Chords might never
have started, and bands like Lagwagon might never have
been signed. Maybe the uninspired drivel that fills
Double Plaidinum would never even have been conceived.
Really, though, the true victims are the
listeners who have this disc pawned off on them as the
real thing or even as a good thing. Chock full of
half-baked songs aimed squarely at young boys at least a
decade younger than the members of Lagwagon, Double
Plaidinum is really nothing more than an instructional CD
on how not to pair heavy metal drumming with punk song
formats. For die-hards, save the money you would spend on
this album and take a slightly less masochistic route --
see Lagwagon live. They probably tell stupid jokes
between songs.
-- Kevin O'Leary
Various Artists
A Life Less Ordinary
(London)
***
Recipe for a hip soundtrack: take a few ballads, add a
couple electropop tracks, spice it up with a little
techno, and add some '50s-era croons as a "secret
ingredient." Stir well, play at desired volume,
dance according to taste. The soundtrack to A Life Less
Ordinary has a little something for everyone.
Quintessential Michael Stipe balladry is
offered up on R.E.M.'s "Leave," which manages
to keep the "pretty" in "pretty standard
R.E.M. fare." Deliciously soulful backing lyrics on
Faithless' "Don't Leave" dilute the sugar on
this track, which may be a little too sweet for some. The
Sneaker Pimps do a heck of a Siouxsie and the Banshees
impression with the layered-vocals, angst-ridden,
"Velvet Divorce." The Cardigans' "It's
War" is pure decadent sultriness and Beck is all
about fun on the nonsensical "Dead Weight,"
complete with a full minute's worth of space-gun sound
effects at the end.
Surprises include Elvis' "Always on My
Mind" (yes, the predecessor to the Pet Shop Boys
version), a Bobby Darin number, and the Squirrel Nut
Zippers' swingy, jazzy,
makes-you-wanna-do-the-Charleston, "Put a Lid on
It." Prodigy and Underworld serve up some speedy (as
in, heartbeat of a hummingbird) techno instrumentals.
Dusted's "Deeper River" is cloaked as a ballad
but creeps into a thumping techno beat.
Call it a well-balanced meal, call it icing on
the cake. Whatever you call it, it's tasty.
-- Vanessa Vance
Daft
Punk
Homework
(Virgin)
*
Proving that any a-hole can get a mixer, sampler and
whatever other devices are required to create
"today's electronic music," Daft Punk, for
better or worse, has arrived. This, the latest arrival of
foreign "autodidactics" to invade our shores
comes in the form of French duo Thomas Bangalter and
Guy-Manual De Homem Christo.
When a "band" has a droning first
single entitled "Da Funk," it is likely that
creativity has taken a place way, way in the back in of
the line. What we have here is a dance record whose
entire center revolves around one of the most monotonous
drum-machine beats ever to pervade an entire album.
Oh sure, there's some mildly interesting
electronic squawking in "Rollin' and
Scratchin'," and "Rock and Roll," and I'm
as amused as anybody to discover that they sing the title
phrase nearly 200 times in "Around the World."
But when these skinny Euro white boys sing that "Dr.
Dre is in the house" on "Teachers," it
unintentionally becomes the sole funny moment on an
otherwise very uninteresting album.
There is absolutely nothing Punk here, but
plenty that is Daft. If there ever was to be death march
to the showers for the legions of ecstasy- and
K-ingesting disco dummies, this would be it.
-- Scot Tempesta
Longpigs
The Sun Is Often Out
(Mother/Island)
****
Just when you thought the British invasion was over, the
Longpigs have emerged from the dust left by fellow brits
Oasis, Prodigy, and Radiohead. Their debut CD is quite
refreshing and, overall, impressive.
The Longpigs' songs are prosaic, most of them
depicting bittersweet revelations of the heart. At best,
they evoke pensive moments of nostalgia, and a sort of
countryside serenity. "On and On" captures
quite accurately the feelings brought on by a forlorn
love affair, while "Over Our Bodies" packs a
subtle but powerful capability to instigate a tear.
Crammed full of warm melodies, guitar riffs
reminiscent of the Smiths, and Crispin Hunt's honey-toned
voice, The Sun Is Often Out is a must for "lost
souls" yearning for a shoulder to cry on. Not that
it is entirely depressing: There are several
lighter-toned tracks. But the record is filled with such
poignant, honest material, it makes it easy -- maybe even
too easy -- to sink into your own emotions.
-- Irene Yadao
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