Madder Rose

Panic On

Willie's comments: Nothing here has the infectious, off-kilter appeal of Bring It Down’s “Swim,” but if you’re a fan of the Cranberries (and who isn’t?), you’ll probably love Panic On. Mary Lorson’s voice has all the yearning beauty of Delores O’Riordan, without the irritating yodeling or bellowing, and her lyrical melodies have a pleasantly generic Lilith Fair appeal: Not quite catchy enough to be memorable, but gorgeous in the background. The music, written largely by guitarist Billy Cote, ranges from pretty ballads like “What Holly Sees” to ravers like “Sleep, Forever” which obviously owe a large debt to Barbara Manning’s Lately I Keep Scissors. It’s actually a pretty good album, forgettable though it is. Grade: B

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Madness

Madness

Willie's comments: Bands like Mighty Mighty Bosstones and Save Ferris have given ska a bad name with their flavorless punk-ska fusions. However, bands like Madness (and, to a lesser degree, Camper Van Beethoven) take the Jamaican(?) rhythm and merely use it as a creative musical tool rather than a crutch, much like They Might Be Giants use an accordion to add flavor to the songs. And Madness writes some really good songs. We all know the big 80s hit "Our House" ("... in the middle of our street"), but this self-titled greatest hits collection also includes the deliriously goofy horn melange of "House of Fun," the clever "Cardiac Arrest," and the rave-up "Night Boat to Cairo." Good, peppy fun. Grade: A

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Madonna

Madonna

Willie's comments: Since I was a wee lad of three years when this album came out, I can't really speak to how revolutionary Madonna's debut was or wasn't at the time. (I missed the whole Thriller and Toto IV phenomena as well.) Listening to it with jaded 21st-century ears, though, Madonna is a consistently enjoyable flashback to the days of new wave songs that were as insubstantial as musical balloons. In fact, the airy, synthesized production- coupled with Ms. Ciccone's shockingly high-pitched singing- sounds more at home coming out of tinny Walkman headphones than a decent stereo system. Even in her career's nascent state, though, it's clear that Madonna is merely playing the ingenue act because that's what the people want, as opposed to the genuine record company tools we have today. (She makes it pretty clear in "Burning Up": "Do you wanna see me down on my knees?/Or bending over backwards, now would you be pleased?/Unlike the others, I'd do anything/I'm not the same/I have no shame." Some would view that as the mission statement that would perservere for the next 20 years.) This winking calculation pretty much eliminates the guilty-pleasure aspect to the music, leaving only the magnificently memorable hooks to songs like "Lucky Star," "Holiday," and "I Know It." The album sometimes puts its homogenous happy-fun-dance-time tone above actual melodic inspiration, which can be irritating on draggier songs like "Physical Attraction" and the overrated "Borderline," but it's precisely that willful superficiality that imbues the entire album with such a delightful combination of innocence and hedonism. Grade: B+

THIS ARTIST ALSO APPEARS ON: SNATCH SOUNDTRACK

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The Magnetic Fields

Holiday

Willie's comments: Stephin Merritt- the man who is the Magnetic Fields- is refreshingly fearless in his music, and it’s exhibited perfectly on Holiday. Lyrically, he spins cynical, eloquent tales of loveless love with amounts of bile that would stagger Courtney Love, as well as genuine love songs which are chock-full of great lines like “Our lips blue from cotton candy/ When we kiss it feels like a flying saucer landing.” Musically, his songs are as catchy as any 80s new wave hero (“Deep Sea Diving Suit” is great aural popcorn), but he undermines that with cheapo keyboards, famously emotionless vocals, and brilliantly bizarre arrangements (“The Trouble I’ve Been Looking For” is led by a synthesizer that threatens to commit suicide after each note, making the song hilariously dizzy). This is the band's third album, and the first on which Merritt himself sings, and his voice, too, is a revelation. It hits a dead-sounding, hypnotic middle ground between Leonard Cohen and Johnny Cash. Imagine if the Smiths were good, and more lo-fi, and you’ve almost conjured the Magnetic Fields! Grade: A

The Charm of the Highway Strip

Willie's comments: Ten songs of commentary on country music and traveling might not sound like the most ideal project for a tinny, synth-based musical outfit, but it works incredibly well here. The music has a countrified twang to it, making “Two Characters in Search of a Country Song” and “Born on a Train” all the more invigorating for being played almost exclusively on keyboards. There are Merritt’s requisite ruminations on love, including a heartbreaking breakup song, “I Have the Moon.” Still, on this album, Merritt saves his most tender admissions for the open road itself. When he croaks, “Lonely highway/ Don’t you cry/ Let me hold you in my arms tonight,” the charm of Highway Strip becomes nakedly evident. Grade: A+

Get Lost

Willie's comments: Merritt evidently modeled this album after Pavement’s disjointed compilation album Westing (by Musket and Sextant), so Get Lost intentionally lacks focus or any thematic thread, a la Holiday or The Charm of the Highway Strip. That’s all well and good- the tracks are entertainingly eclectic, from the slow, mandolin-based ballad “Don’t Look Away” to the sequencer-driven “The Desperate Things You Made Me Do.” However, the album also lacks any truly good melodies, and Merritt’s lyrics lack their usual bite, save for “When You’re Old and Lonely.” Oh well- one less-than-stellar outing shouldn’t decrease anyone’s respect for Stephin. Grade: C+

69 Love Songs 3-CD set

Ginny's comments: I should have been amply warned by the sophomoric title. 69 Love Songs goes for quanity rather than quality: 69 Love Songs is the bulk warehouse item of the music industry if I've ever seen one (and a good value, too! Only 42 cents per song, and that ain't bad!). Though a few of them are catchy and a couple are cute ("Let's Pretend We're Bunny Rabbits," for instance. Can everyone say "Awwwwww..."?), most of them remind me of family vacations with my cousins making up rediculous, usually offensive songs off the top of our heads- songs like "Fido, Your Leash is too Long." Though it would've been hilarious when I was younger, it hardly qualifies as something I'd keep in my normal disc rotation. Each track is pretty short, averaging about a minute or two per track, and none of them are as brilliant as I know Stephin Merritt is capable of, though, if I had to come up with 69 love songs, I'd probably pretty tapped out on the genius, too. Yes, the concept is kinda cute, though it seems like far too much of an effort just to make a crude double entendre out of the title. GRADE: C-

Willie's comments: If every rock magazine in the world hadn’t already printed up their “Best Albums of the ‘90s” issue before this triple album came out in September of 1999, it surely would’ve been in the top ten of everyone’s list. As the title suggests, 69 Love Songs contains 23 songs on each CD, all about love and- more often than not- heartbreak. Merritt’s lyrics are more inimitably acerbic and hilarious than ever, as titles like “The Cactus Where Your Heart Should Be,” “How Fucking Romantic,” and “No One Will Ever Love You” should indicate. Merritt himself sings only 45 of the 69 songs, turning vocal duties over to four other people on the remainder, and they all adeptly handle their songs. Sensing that 69 traditional Magnetic Fields songs might get a wee bit monotonous, Merritt makes things as eclectic as possible- “Wi’ Nae Wee Bairn Ye’ll Me Beget” sounds like an Irish folk song, “I Shatter” sounds like Kraftwerk backed by the Kronos Quartet, “Blue You” is chamber music of the highest order, etc.- but there are still plenty of good old Merritt synth-pop numbers, like “Long-Forgotten Fairytale” and “Fido, Your Leash is Too Long.” 69 Love Songs’ only weak point is in Merritt’s inexplicable reliance on the ukelele to ground a large number of songs (particularly on disc one). It doesn’t make much sense, and it makes the songs sound like Tiny Tim slowed down... but I’m being nitpicky here. 69 Love Songs is, like the Flaming Lips’ Zaireeka, a work of genius whose execution actually delivers on the brilliance of the concept. Grade: A

i

Willie's comments: Arriving nearly five years after the embarrassment of riches that was 69 Love Songs, the next proper Magnetic Fields release is much more modestly scaled than its predecessor in every possible way: 14 songs, all beginning with the letter I, alphabetically sequenced by the letters that fall thereafter, and, as the liner notes emphasize, no synths. If the removal of synthesizers from a Magnetic Fields album smacks of an Oblique Strategies-esque exercise in conquering writer's block, it's not quite as bad as all that... but it certainly has sucked the life out of a good portion of this record. That's not to say Merritt's new organic philosophy doesn't yield a few gems: "If There's Such a Thing as Love" offers the listener a banjo, a stolen ABBA lick, and a few hearty chuckles, while "I'm Tongue-Tied"'s cheerfully old-fashioned ukelele-and-xylophone arrangement is as sweet and memorable as anything from The Muppet Movie, and "Infinitely Late At Night" sounds like Chet Baker about to pass out in a vomit-filled ashtray. (In a good way.) However, the two songs that stand out as twin highlights are those that hew closest to the Fields of old: "I Don't Believe You" is a sprightly acoustic-pop kiss-off, and "I Thought You Were My Boyfriend" is a single-worthy expression of stunned heartbreak that gallops along to a tense drum machine and a piano and cello that have been treated to approximate programmed synths. Given those tracks' taut appeal, it's something of a letdown to have to then slog through tedious fare like the too-proper "I Die" and the mannered "In an Operetta" and the flat-out boring "Irma" and... well, like I said, it's really not that bad, but I wish the music were more frequently up to the crackling cleverness of lyrics like "So you quote love unquote me..." and "I was young, then not so young/Scary either way." There's half a terrific album here; the other half seems to hit a red light at every intersection. Grade: B-

SEE ALSO: THE 6THS

SEE ALSO: STEPHIN MERRITT

SEE ALSO: FUTURE BIBLE HEROES

SEE ALSO: GOTHIC ARCHIES

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Stephen Malkmus

Stephen Malkmus

Willie's comments: After the distracted-sounding Terror Twilight, Pavement broke up, leaving co-founder Stephen Malkmus to take up with a new backing band, the Jicks, and keep churning out the smarty-pants indie-rock on this solo album. (His erstwhile partner, Scott Kannberg, founded the Preston School of Industry, who are supposed to be pretty good.) In many ways, the songwriting on Stephen Malkmus is a logical progression from Pavement's last album: there are a few slow, pretty ramblers ("Trojan Curfew," "Deado") and a surprising amount of power chords from a guy whose guitar stylings tend to favor strange note clusters. There's no reason to quibble about the new band's talents, either- it's hard to imagine Pavement ever kicking out a number as disciplined and playful as "Phantasies" (though they do take an unfortunate detour into Wowee Zowee sloppiness with "Troubbble").

The only downside to a solo Malkmus seems to be that he feels even freer to indulge his penchant for smarmy irony in his lyrics. He can still make a non-sequitur like "the black book that you took was permanently diversified" sound catchy, but cutesy attempts at writing through the eyes of pirates ("The Hook") and Yul Brenner, of all people ("Jo-Jo's Jacket"), are just irritating. They're balanced somewhat by the unexpected sweetness of "Jenny and the Ess-Dog," which is a sad little love story, which prompts hopes that he'll learn to rein in his overeducated brain and let his heart take a turn at the wheel more often. Grade: B

SEE ALSO: PAVEMENT

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Aimee Mann

Whatever

Willie's comments: Fans of Aimee Mann's brilliant new wave outfit 'Til Tuesday might be the tiniest bit disheartened at her first solo album, Whatever. Mann has reinvented herself as a sort of female Elvis Costello, and in place of the tight, singable hooks she'd previously written (remember "Voices Carry"?), Whatever is full of songs that are a lot prettier than they are catchy. However, if you're willing to go with it, you might find Aimee's new incarnation addictive. "I Should've Known" is a genial little boogie, spiced up with Mann's "bap bap bap" backing vocals and the clever arrangement of wunderkind producer Jon Brion. The ballad "Mr. Harris" is pure Costello, and, incidentally, better than anything he's written since "Veronica." The best song, however, is the creepy, hooky "Jacob Marley's Chain." There are a few lengthy stretches of dull, unremarkable country-pop on Whatever, but Mann's songs are never as toothless or generic as, say, Shania Twain, as exemplified by the kiss-off "I Could Hurt You Now." Whatever. Grade: B

I'm with Stupid

Willie's comments: This album finds Mann rocking a lot more than she did on Whatever, which yields such great, bouncy pop as the infectious "Superball," "Frankenstein," and "Long Shot." This latter song is an ambivalent meditation on love that's as close to perfection as anything Mann has ever done, with as much weight given to the line "Please love me more" as the line "You fucked it up." And on I'm with Stupid, even when Mann slows things down, she doesn't sacrifice the piercing insight of her lyrics or the memorable quality of her melodies. Take a listen to the gorgeous "Amateur" or "You're with Stupid Now," and tell me that they aren't just as great as "Long Shot." Well... actually, I won't go that far- I still wish Mann would craft exclusvely uptempo songs, because anyone can write ballads and she's so good at the poppier numbers. But regardless of my sniping, I'm with Stupid is an entirely satisfying meal. Grade: A-

Magnolia soundtrack album

Willie's comments: This soundtrack is usually lumped in with Mann's body of work despite the fact that it contains two abysmal Supertramp songs, Gabrielle's amusingly cheesy "Dreams," and a superfluous instrumental by Jon Brion. The nine songs that Mann contributes, though, are terrific. Some of them have been previously released elsewhere, and some of them appear on her subsequent album Bachelor no. 2, but they're all magnificent. Well, all except for the instrumental "Nothing is Good Enough," which is a retread of "You Could Make a Killing," but that doesn't matter. The songs will probably hit you harder if you've actually seen Magnolia, because they play an important role in the film- particularly "Wise Up," which masterfully walks the line between saccharine and cynical (the song's final line, "Just give up," is the quintessential Mann bon mot). However, even those who haven't seen the film won't be able to avoid being charmed by Mann's deadpan dissection of Harry Nilsson's "One," the yearning "Save Me," or the surprisingly infectious "Driving Sideways." By this point, Mann seems to have hung up her rock hooks for good in favor of slow pop crooning, but she has also matured to a point where she is probably the best balladeer in the biz. Grade: A-

Bachelor No. 2 or, the Last Remains of the Dodo

Willie's comments: This album was held in major-label limbo for quite some time, until Mann was able to escape her horrid record deal with Interscope (in a well-publicized battle) and release it on her own SuperEgo label. You should therefore buy Bachelor No. 2, if for no other reason than to support a woman who dared to buck the RIAA's dictatorial practices and pave her own way. You will be rewarded with Mann's most consistently great album to date. It contains two and a half songs from the Magnolia soundtrack ("Deathly," "Driving Sideways," and a vocal version of "Nothing is Good Enough," which proves just how much of a difference Mann's deadpan vocals can make to an unremarkable instrumental), and an additional 10 top-notch pop songs. Stylistically, there's not much new here: ballads a'plenty broken up by a few engaging, mid-tempo boogies ("Ghost World," "Susan"), quotably acerbic lyrics, inspired production from Jon Brion, etc. What sets Bachelor No. 2 apart from anything that precedes it is the fact that Mann's relaxed songs are now memorable, as opposed to being terrific but forgettable. "Calling It Quits" and "You Do" boast melodies as addictive as the best one-hit wonders, only played at half-speed. Come to think of it, remember when people used to think Aimee Mann was one of those one-hit wonders? Dodos. Grade: A

THIS ARTIST HAS TENUOUS CONNECTIONS TO: MURRAY ATTAWAY; JIM WHITE

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Barbara Manning

One Perfect Green Blanket/Lately I Keep Scissors

Willie's comments: After her original band, 28th Day, broke up, Barbara Manning struck out on her own and recorded Lately I Keep Scissors, an indie-rock classic. “Scissors” and “Never Park” are beautiful, unadorned pop songs that owe more to New Zealand bands like the Clean than to any American model, while “Mark E. Smith & Brix” is a charming ode to The Fall. The highlight is the clamorous, witty “Every Pretty Girl”- obviously the song around which Liz Phair has based her entire career. The lyrics of the song are brilliant, as Manning details the jealousy she feels when her boyfriend looks at other women (“I’m acting so silly, but what can I do?/ I tear at her clothing, but more skin shows through”).

Right now, Lately I Keep Scissors is available only on the CD of One Perfect Green Blanket, a seven-song EP that irons out a lot of Manning’s jagged edges. There’s a sweet cover of the Bats’ “Smoking Her Wings,” and “Sympathy Wreath” is really pretty, while “Straw Man” would do Sebadoh proud. Nothing on the CD is as unassailably glorious as, say, “The Arsonist Story” from 1212, but it’s still perfectly clear why Manning is the most intelligent, great female indie rocker of all time. Grade: A-

Barbara Manning Sings with the Original Artists

Willie's comments: Since Manning's skills at interpreting the songs of others are perhaps more legendary than her own superb songwriting ability, it makes sense that the Original Artists would have recruited her to sing and play guitar on an album's worth of their songs (mostly). It's a terrific experiment, as Manning makes the Artists' occasionally sprawling songs her own, sweetly murmuring her way through the infectious waltz "Gold Brick" and "Untitled #2." The music is perfect indie rock, running the gamut from the giddy calypso of "Here Comes Love" to a sexy, smoky blues cover of "Cry Me a River." "Daddy Bully" shares an unfortunate resemblance to Deadeye Dick's "New Age Girl," but it's revelatory to hear Manning singing as enthusiastically as, say, Kate Pierson. Manning's own "Optimism is Its Own Reward" is a highlight, but the whole album is pure joy if you can find it. Grade: A+

1212

Willie's comments: Indie rock doesn’t get any more clever than the 20-minute rock operetta that opens 1212, "The Arsonist Story." In this suite, Manning takes on the role of a fireman, an arsonist, a match, and the arsonist’s mom (yielding some canny wordplay on "Our Son"), all with an eye for detail and an ear for a great hook. From there, Manning produces a terrific cover of Richard Thompson’s "End of the Rainbow" and a truly disturbing cover of Tom Lehrer’s "Rickity Tickety Tin," as well as great originals like "Blood of Feeling" and the cocktail blues of "Isn’t Lonely Lovely?" Only a couple weak covers toward the end prevent this from being the masterpiece it truly deserves to be. Grade: A

In New Zealand

Willie's comments: As I understand it as an ignorant Yank, there are two main factions of rock music in New Zealand. There is the more accessible, Beatles-derived bunch, which contains Crowded House, Dave Dobbyn, and the Mutton Birds. And then you have the more laid-back, Velvet Underground-based clique, which is composed of the Bats, the Clean, the Chills, Tall Dwarfs, and others. Well, Barbara Manning has long been a fan of this latter group, so she decided to take a trip to NZ and record an album with the musicians she admires. It's a charming, if slight, excursion. Chris Knox nicely complements Barbara's more unconventional side, making "Your Pies" a weird treat. David Kilgour helps out on several tracks: the piano-driven "Everything Happens by Itself" is beautiful, chiming indie rock, while the 11-minute instrumental finale, "Aramoana," is a lulling triumph of repetition. The album is weakened only by a dull cover of the Clean's "Whatever I Do is Right/Wrong" with John Covertino and Joey Burns (of Giant Sand and Calexico), and Manning's uncharacteristically tepid lyrics on several songs. Nonetheless, it's another quiet slice of genius from Barbara Manning. Grade: B+

Under One Roof: Singles and Oddities

Willie's comments: This new compilation pulls songs from Barbara's myriad side projects (SF Seals, 28th Day, Glands of External Secretion), one-off recording sessions, and 7" singles, and it covers basically every stage of her career to this date. Therefore, it gives you a perfect excuse to investigate one of the best singer/songwriter's you probably have never heard! True, you don't get a tremendous taste of the "songwriter" aspect, since Manning herself wrote or co-wrote only six of these 18 tracks, but that's okay for two reasons: First, her covers of others' songs always shine, and that's especially true here. She tackles songs by Jackson Browne, Young Marble Giants, Hank Williams, and even Wings, and turns them into gorgeous, homey Barbara Manning showcases. Even better is her version of "B4 We Go Under," which is a song written especially for Barbara by the Bats' Robert Scott, and definitely ranks in her top five best recordings. The second reason is that the songs that she wrote herself are also top-notch. "Damned Lucky" is a hilarious, punkish account of a hellish tour she spent in a van with the Silos ("Being forced to hear godawful Pearl Jam 28,000 times"), while "Haze is Free (Mounting a Broken Ladder)" is terrific, murky, ominous pop. She saves the best for last, though: The final track, "I Can't Watch You Play Drums," is an outtake from a session she did with two members of Bettie Serveert and Dump's James McNew. It's a simple, catchy jam session that encapsulates everything that is great about Barbara and the indie rock genre as a whole: When talent, intelligence, and charm come together, the effect is heavenly, regardless of whether you have slick production. Grade: A-

You Should Know by Now

Willie's comments: After a year or two of living in Europe, Barbara returned to the United states with a new backing band (the Go-Luckys!) consisting of twin brothers named Fabrizio and Flavio Steinbach, who play guitar and drums, respectively. Following a decent EP (Homeless is Where the Heart Is), the trio released their first full-length album in 2001, and it marks a return to the spare, Fall-derived rocking of Barbara's early work. "Buds Won't Bud," "Don't Neglect Yourself," and "You Knock Me Out" are all keepers from this genre ("Goof on the Roof" isn't quite a keeper), but the real pleasure of the album comes from the more complex, more melancholy melodies at which Barbara has been peerlessly talented since 1212. "Time to B." does this without losing an ounce of energy, but the slowly simmering "I Insist" and "Never Made Love" calm things down in a way that underscores the intimacy of lyrics like "We never made love often enough, but we made love count." The Steinbachs contribute a perfectly memorable little instrumental ("Boston Song"), too. At times, You Should Know by Now seems as though the recording was a bit rushed, to the songs' detriment- the guitars on "You Knock Me Out" aren't even properly tuned- and the sporadic appearance of Jeff Palmer's musical saw doesn't compare favorably with the lush arrangements of her past few releases, but it's still another quality album from Ms. Mannin'. Grade: B

Enjoy the Lonely Time EP

Willie's comments: It's hard to keep finding new ways to say, "More Barbara Manning music that you'll be doing yourself a disservice not to check out," but that's what this 2006 Go-Luckys! EP provides. It's got six songs in 22 minutes, and it basically distills everything lovely about Barbara's music to a quick, energetic primer. The guitars are chimey/noisy, the production is pretty spare (while still allocating an extra track here and there for Barbara to harmonize with herself), and the songs embody the simple catchiness of the best garage rock without becoming redundant. "Dreaming" moves from boppy indie-rock pensiveness to a frothy howl, "I Mean Nothing" runs full-throttle before skidding into "Coy Tongue"'s sweaty stomp, and "Read Between the Lines," whose music was penned by the Steinbachs, breaks itself down and rebuilds a couple times over the course of six minutes without overstaying its welcome. As always, Barbara uses her voice to imbue her lyrics about regret, heartache, and self-doubt with an audible sense of the fun she has making music, and things never get close to mopey. The EP concludes with two more of Barbara's justly lauded covers, neither of which could be more different from the other: there's a soulful, earnest take on Graham Nash's "Chicago" (highlighted by Flavio's subtly expressive drumming), followed by a joyous version of The Snivelling Shits' punk mess "Isgodaman?" which manages to be even more hilariously sloppy than the original. In short, Enjoy the Lonely Time is every bit as personal, unpretentious, and smile-inducing as anything Barbara has ever done. If only it went on for another 20 minutes... Grade: A-

READER COMMENTS:

Pearce Duncan writes: TISM are from Australia. Please do not slander New Zealand music like this again. Next you'll be blaming us for Kylie Minogue! [WILLIE'S NOTE: This has been corrected. Can't believe I made that error in the first place. I am dumb.]

Barbara Manning herself(!) writes: I was feeling so blue today and thought, hell why not ego boost alittle and see what is out there in cyber space about me. I was getting discouraged since I get alot of fairly medium comments, then I came across your site and whooohooooooo! I am feeling like a million bucks!
thank you will! I wish I could hang out with you.
love
barbara

SEE ALSO: SF SEALS

THIS ARTIST ALSO APPEARS ON: NO ALTERNATIVE; WHATS UP MATADOR

THIS ARTIST HAS TENUOUS CONNECTIONS TO: THE 6THS; DUMP; THE BATS; THE CLEAN; SUNNY DAY REAL ESTATE

WRITE COMMENTS ABOUT BARBARA MANNING

Man on the Moon soundtrack

Ginny's comments: I've always loved the Taxi theme song, and I can't tell you how happy I am that I have it on this album. Aside from the annoying and un-funny clips of dialogue, it's a fun soundtrack album. It's got R.E.M.'s world-famous "Man on the Moon" (don't get too excited- it's identical to the album version) along with an AMAZING new song called "The Great Beyond," which is fun-loving R.E.M .at full throttle. I DARE you not to sing along, even the first time through! Even though the instrumentals are done by R.E.M., they aren't worth knowing they are done by REM- they're still just basic movie fodder. Exile's "Kiss You All Over" is COMPLETELY out of place... I have NO idea what it's doing on this soundtrack and even if Andy did have many sexual exploits, I'd rather not have this song remind me of that. "This Friendly World," a trio between Michael Stipe and Jim Carrey as Andy Kaufman and Tony Clifton is cute one or two times and it captures the spirit of Andy. Don't think of this as a mini-R.E.M. album in between albums because the only real new song is "The Great Beyond," but for something light-hearted, it's worth it especially if you enjoyed the movie. GRADE: C ("The Great Beyond" gets an A+, however)

Willie's comments: This soundtrack to the wonderful Andy Kaufman biopic is, like the film, perhaps a bit light on substance, but a good time nevertheless. R.E.M. ably handles most of the album's musical duties, with two versions of the title song (the Automatic for the People version and a haunting orchestral version); some nice selections from the score they wrote for the movie; a fun cover of "This Friendly World" in which Michael Stipe duets with Jim Carrey as both Kaufman and Kaufman's alter ego, Tony Clifton; and one outstanding new song, "The Great Beyond," which contains the band's best chorus since, well, "Man on the Moon." The rest of the album plays like filler, with the inclusions of Exile's "Kiss You All Over," snippets of dialogue, the theme songs to Mighty Mouse and Taxi, and a funny but irritating rendition of "I Will Survive" sung by Clifton. It's better to think of this as a sort of unofficial R.E.M. album between R.E.M. albums. Grade: B+

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Marbles

Expo

Willie's comments: Marbles is an old, new-wavey home-recording project that Robert Schneider took out of retirement when the Apples in Stereo went on a divorce-fueled hiatus. Though his wholly untalented garage band Ulysses is a complete waste of digital recording technology, Marbles does a fine job of swaddling Rob's ultra-simple hooks in saw-wave synths, vocoders, and the sort of unchallenging, optimistic arrangements that make the Apples such a treat. Those who've been waiting for more of the man's tight, Beach Boys-worshiping hookery since the Apples' uncharacteristically loud Velocity of Sound will find plenty of treats here. "Magic" in particular is pure bliss that makes the Salieri in me want to bow to the pop composer in Schneider- with just a few flangers, how the hell can he come up with a four-chord song so impossibly catchy? Seriously, that song will be appearing on mix CDs I make until the day I die (2009). As always, Schneider's lyrics straddle the line between "acceptably disposable" and "annoyingly disposable" ("Hello, sun! Thank you for the sunny day!"), but don't be a jackass about it, Will. If you purchase the actual CD instead of downloading it, you'll get four nifty bonus tracks, which include two versions of a Depeche Mode-inspired home recording by Robert and two woodwind-based jazz-lounge instrumentals of the sort for which I am a certified sucker, but it's nothing you don't get from the three cinematic instrumentals ("Jewel of India," "Expo," and "Blossoms") on the actual record, or the memorably smiley, keyboard-drenched pop songs that fill the rest of the running time. It ain't Devo, but it's also far from being a negligible side-project. If you like the past couple Of Montreal albums, in which Kevin Barnes surrounded himself with synth-pop glamour, you'll dig this as well. Grade: B+

SEE ALSO: APPLES IN STEREO

SEE ALSO: ULYSSES

THIS ARTIST HAS TENUOUS CONNECTIONS TO: HIGH WATER MARKS

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Bob Marley & the Wailers

Legend

Willie's comments: First off, I know next to nothing about reggae. Apart from Musical Youth's "Pass the Dutchie," Weird Al's "Buy Me a Condo," and a couple songs on the Snatch soundtrack, I don't think there are even any reggae songs in my collection- generally speaking, it's not my thing. However, my brother recently joined the Columbia House CD Club (because what makes music shopping more enjoyable than scads of hidden fees?), and since he is notoriously lazy, he did not return the "I don't want this month's featured selection" card on time. Thus, he got stuck with a $23 copy of Legend: The Best of Bob Marley & The Wailers. After laughing at him for a good hour, I told him that I'd give him $5 for the CD, and he agreed to it. Sucker.

Quite honestly, I never expected to enjoy a reggae album as much as I do this one. I knew that Marley has always been (and probably will always be) the undisputed king of reggae and Jamaican music, but I never before understood exactly why. Judging from the evidence here, it's because the man refused to make generic reggae- there are no hours-long jams, laid-back ganja anthems, or half-baked vocal melodies to be found here. Instead, Marley's songs were fiercely political, and he somehow managed to make songs like "Get Up Stand Up" and "Exodus" transcend the inherently relaxing rhythms of the songs and resonate as barking nationalistic manifestoes. Better still, he and the Wailers masterfully vary the tone of their music from song to song- the marvelous "Jamming" is tight and hooky, "No Woman No Cry" is a tear-jerking live track, "Could You be Loved" could almost pass for mid-period Talking Heads, and so on. Though I could do without the abrasively sappy "One Love/People Get Ready," the rest of Legend gave this dyed-in-the-wool rock fan a much-needed lesson in the genius of Bob Marley. Though I'll still probably never buy another reggae album (unless, of course, Tim neglects his Columbia House duties again and winds up with a Linton Kwesi Johnson box set or something), I wholeheartedly recommend Legend to anyone who is interested in music on any sort of serious level. Grade: A

READER COMMENTS:

John Schlegel writes: I agree that these are profound songs that successfully merge reggae with timeless pop music. However, personally, I find that it is still possible to get tired of this music. Bob Marley was a monumental figure in music during his time, but I do grow weary of hearing stuff like VH1 and white college kids over blow him to death. I mean, good as it is, a lot of lesser-known music is pretty spectacular too, but Bob Marley's Legends just happens to be one of those CDs that every average Joe and Jane owns, even if they just have like twelve CDs; kind of like the Steve Miller Band's Greatest Hits. Maybe it's profound that a lot of people who have passive interests in music still can groove on this one; or, perhaps, maybe white America's love for Bob Marley stems from multiculturism, political correctness, and "the great white guilt." Not that I'm trying to be too cynical--these are great songs, but I am tired of hearing at least one of them at every bar and social gathering I frequent. I guess I'm just challenging a popular paradigm: Why do white people love Bob Marley so freakin' much?

billyozark@aol.com writes: it is also interesting to me that you love Bob Marley’s Legend but say you won’t likely bother with other reggae - ya gotta cheque out early Toots & the Maytals, Burning Spear, Big Youth, and dub poet Linton Kwesi Johnson !

Andrew@threeinabox.com writes: Well, it’s true. Legend is probably the world’s most ubiquitous album. I’ve travelled throughout North and South East Asia, Europe, and North America (including Jamaica, mon) and it’s absolutely mind boggling where you’ll find Bob. He’s not just in the beach huts and down-tempo restaubars. He is in grocery stores in South Korea. He’s in taxi cabs in Japan. You hear Bob everywhere in South East Asia, and it’s not just in the touristy areas that his music soothes the listener. I’ve heard Bob in the mountain villages of the Annapurna Range in the Himalayas while eating fried Yak and drinking home-made apple brandy. In Jamaica you wake up and fall asleep to Bob being played from the rented sound systems placed willy-nilly throughout the mountains, the beaches, the towns and the cities. Why has his music proliferated throughout our wee globe? It’s inexplicably universal. It’s also comprehensive…I like other reggae stars (Peter Tosh being a fave), but I will compare all I hear to the one, to the legend, to Bob.

LoadesC writes: If you're only going to buy one Reggae album don't choose Legend. It's the idiots guide to Marley. As a hardcore Reggae fan for over 20 years I would highly recommend The Heptones-The Meaning of Life The Best of as a magnificent collection of soulful Rocksteady, that absolutely pisses all over the Legend album and is great value too. You won't have to be a Reggae freak to like this one.

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Marshmallow Coast

Seniors & Juniors

Willie's comments: Despite the fact that I had a dream last night in which the Marshmallow Coast was the home recording project of Kevin Fitzgerald (the awesome, sleepy-voiced doctor from Emergency Vets), the Marshmallow Coast is actually the intimate musical outlet for Andy Gonzales, a member of the dementedly chipper Of Montreal. Though Seniors & Juniors shies away from the kinetic pop passion of Gonzales's other band, he successfully transplants Of Montreal's sense of innocence and wonder to the more intimate setting of his four-track. The 13 compositions here rely mostly on an ancient-sounding piano, bass, and acoustic guitar, occasionally boosted by woodwinds, an air organ, a glockenspiel, or- on the most boisterous numbers- distant-sounding drums, all adding up to a beautifully personal album that occasionally recalls the naive soundtrack to the fake musical in Waiting for Guffman. Though it's all pretty slight, Gonzales invites us to share his nostalgia for his childhood: many of the songs explicitly relate to his youthful education, and he borrows elements from such unlikely sources as Mr. Rogers ("Off to School" recreates the music announcing the arrival of Trolley) and The Grinch (the title track's chorus is taken from that "Dahoo Dorays" song the Whos kept singing). I wish he would have excised some of the more unnecessary instrumentals here in favor of more fully-formed songs like "Little Pythagoras" and "Mashed Potato Light," because his nasal voice is incredibly endearing and his melodies are unusually warm. However, the instrumentals themselves are full of minor surprises, and they ably assist in creating a mood as cozy as your mom thrusting a mug of hot chocolate into your hands as soon as you get home from kindergarten on a blustery winter day. Grade: A-

Ride the Lightning

Willie's comments: This time around, Gonzales tapped his Of Montreal bandmate Derek Almstead to help out with another album full of pop minutiae. While Almstead's musical contributions seem limited to bass and the occasional percussion and/or keyboard role, his presence is more noticeable in the areas of recording and engineering, because the cheekily titled Ride the Lightning sounds tighter and more complete than Seniors & Juniors' admittedly sweet lo-fi-isms. Rather than sounding like the musical diary of a lonely dreamer this time around, Gonzales's compositions come closer to a lounge-pop incarnation of They Might Be Giants on full-band songs like "Classifieds" and "Ghost With Wisdom." With the added confidence of his slicker arrangements, too, Gonzales is free to indulge his somewhat spookier, vaguely trippier side. "Darkside of the Moon" merges fever dream imagery with a subtle, Police-style arrangement, while "Chameleon" and "Jebodiah's Restraints" reveal an endearingly strange stream of consciousness beneath the songs' shiny whirligig surfaces. Granted, the more ambitious nature of these popsters means that the filler is nakedly obvious here ("Guitar Suite for Little Debbie," the instrumental bits), but when the tunes coalesce into wimp-rock masterpieces, you'll be glad you stuck around. Grade: B+

Antistar

Willie's comments: With the addition of flutist Sara Kirkpatrick, the Marshmallow Coast goes for Bacharach-style baroque breeziness on Antistar. But as you know if you're familiar with Gonzales's previous work, if there's one quality his songs don't need more of, it's breeziness, lest they blow apart like origami birds. Well, that's what happens here. Pretty though the arrangements can be on tracks like "Sunrise" and "Tea for Two," and accomplished though Kirkpatrick's contributions are, the songs are too twee and twirly to add up to much, particularly when you consider that Gonzales sounds more unsure of himself than ever. Not only is his voice shyly pushed into the background of a bunch of tracks, his melodies sound frequently grasping, occasionally half-improvised, and rarely memorable. There's a nice, loungey vibe to it all, but the acoustic guitars and bongos and such were put to much better use on Ride the Lightning; this really does sound like Of Montreal lite. "Chinese Lady" closes the album in a cute fashion that recalls XTC at their most intentionally inconsequential, and "Day and Night" offers up a nice, sturdy hook, but only those who like their pop so fluffity and puffity that it's 95% air need investigate this one. Grade: C+

SEE ALSO: OF MONTREAL

THIS ARTIST HAS TENUOUS CONNECTIONS TO: NEUTRAL MILK HOTEL

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Massive Attack

Blue Lines

Willie's comments: Any band that lists the Coen brothers’ film Blood Simple under “influences” obviously has taste. And Massive Attack has that in spades. Ultimately, though, you might begin to wish the band’s trip-hop was more exciting than “tasteful.” Don’t get me wrong- Blue Lines is a killer listen. “Safe from Harm” is sexy and funky, while the soulful “Be Thankful for What You’ve Got” is hypnotically catchy and lots of fun. And any track which features vocals from Tricky is charming, thanks to his mumbled British rapping. However, danceable and trancey though the album is, I would’ve liked to hear more groundbreaking, complex numbers like “Unfinished Symphony” rather than the basic hip-hop of “Five Man Army” and “Daydreaming,” which get a bit one-note. If you’re into the trip-hop music, though, this is really cool. Grade: B+

Mezzanine

Willie's comments: Massive Attack's third album abandons a great deal of the R&B elements that marked their first album in favor of more stark, spacious trip-hop. Most of the songs sound as though they were recorded in a city street at midnight, with seedy, noir-ish overtures being backed by occasional buses going by. Guitars play a key role here, tending to bob slowly along on waves of phasers, flangers, and wah-wah pedals, providing a hypnotic structure for songs like "Angel" and "Group Four." Elizabeth Fraser of the Cocteau Twins turns in a mighty vocal performance on "Teardrop," a song which melds elements of pop with slow electronica just as memorably as Loreena McKinnett's "The Mummer Song," but twelve times as effectively. Unfortunately, the album nearly screeches to a halt when Horace Andy takes the mike on "Man Next Door"- with his weird, Parkinsons-like delivery, Andy is as abrasive here as he was on Blue Lines's "One Love," but it's Mezzanine's sole misstep. Mezzanine is the musical equivalent of staying in a dank urban hotel, slowly lulling yourself to sleep by staring at the neon light that's flashing outside your window. Grade: A-

THIS ARTIST ALSO APPEARS ON: THE INSIDER SOUNDTRACK; SNATCH SOUNDTRACK

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Mates of State

My Solo Project

Willie's comments: The Mates of State may have a pretty simple indie-pop formula to all their songs, yet they're saved from seeming formulaic by the undeniably infectious and sunny energy that this duo (husband-and-wife team Kori Gardner and Jason Hammel) exudes. Both partners sound like they honestly live to make music, and above all, to sing, sing, sing! Without ever becoming obnoxious about it, Gardner and Hammel both sing at the top of their lungs throughout this entire record (think Neko Case performing a duet with Doug Martsch)- sometimes harmonizing, sometimes singing in unison, and sometimes falling into a grin-inducing polyphonic state where they each sing vocal parts that bear seemingly no relation to each other except that they're complementary in a truly delightful way. With all these kinetic vocals front and center, it's fitting that the Mates' musical arrangements rely solely on Gardner's keyboard playing (heavy on cheesy organ noises and chintzy percussive sounds) and Hammel's drumming to avoid overwhelming things, but that doesn't mean they're "minimal." I get the impression that nothing about the Mates of State is ever going to be "minimal," really; they're such naturally enthusiastic and hyper musicians that everything they do bounces merrily off the walls. The instrumental parts are impressively complex, and songs like "Tan/Black" and "What I Could Stand For" make use of numerous, abrupt changes in the time signature and tempo, stapling disparate melodic fragments together until your head is spinning like a happy barbershop pole. Given all that, My Solo Project doesn't offer much in the way of big, New Pornographers-esque pop hooks the way I wished it might've. The sweet "I Have Space" and the rollicking "A Control Group" are really the only songs that stick with you, but there's such a surplus of joy on this record that it hardly matters. Grade: B+

Our Constant Concern

Willie's comments: A-ha! Hooks! A big, spiky, painful pile of hooks! Our Constant Concern marks a small step forward in the Mates' songwriting style: no less quirky, but a bit more streamlined. Songs like "10 Years Later" get from point A to point B in a relatively logical way, as opposed to the moments on My Solo Project where the couple behaved like (admittedly adorable) children impatiently yanking their mom all over a department store while yelling, "Hey- look over here! Wow- look over here now! Can I please have an Icee?" Gardner and Hammil's unique vocalizing style continues to charm, but it sounds more practiced and confident, and the same goes for Gardner's keyboard stylings and Hammil's skin-pounding (and drummi- er, sorry about that). That means you've got plenty of songs like "Hoarding It for Home," on which all the elements come together for a bonanza of playful pop greatness reminiscent of Ben Folds Five at their most inspired. However, it also means you get moments like "Girls Singing," a pretty, mature sparkle of a tune on which the Mates calm down enough to let a simple piano line do most of the talking. Even though the lyrics still sound- probably accurately- like they were written by two people working at cross-purposes ("I can see how it poured once before/The thoughts form on call/What if the sun is right?"), they're delivered in a way that's both sincere and not without a sense of humor, adding to the cozy, melodic comforts to be found on this record. If they keep this up, I could see the Mates of State graduating to the upper echelon of sensitive indie idols in no time, but even for the time being, they're fun enough to bring a smile to the face of even a jaded young man who's got a pounding caffeine-withdrawl headache. Grade: A-

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Matmos

A Chance to Cut is a Chance to Cure

Willie's comments: This album might not be everyone's cup of tea. Or everyone's cup of cerebrospinal fluid, to be more exact. California electronica weirdos (and production wizards) Matmos have assembled here a collection of songs made up of sampled noises from the medical establishment. What does this entail? Using bones as percussion ("Memento Mori"), sequencing the clicks and beeps of an acupuncture detector or a hearing test booth into melodies ("Ur Tchun Tan Tse Qi" and "Spondee," respectively), plucking and bowing the bars of a rat cage (the ambient "For Felix [and All the Rats]"), and, for the rest of the album, constructing intricate house music from the sounds of actual surgeries recorded by the band. I doubt that most people will get past the hilariously gross liposuction slurping of the album opener, or the piercing metallic screeches that open "L.A.S.I.K" (which visibly freaked out my brother, who is due to have the laser eye surgery in a week), but those who do will be rewarded with some of the best unconventional dance fodder ever made. Rather than being a mere novelty album that can't transcend its gimmick- brilliant though the gimmick is- A Chance to Cut is a Chance to Cure proves that Matmos are as adept at constructing techno rhythms, grooves, and tunes as they are at finding unique sounds with which to do their construction. Unlike such dull electronica artists as, say, Spring Heel Jack, Matmos makes techno music with a face. It just so happens that the face is being assaulted by scalpels and lasers on this album. Grade: A-

THIS ARTIST HAS TENUOUS CONNECTIONS TO: BJORK

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Dave Matthews Band

Remember Two Things

Willie's comments: I can’t really understand Dave Matthews Band’s reputation for being such a wonderful live band (and this pre-fame, mostly live CD doesn’t offer any insights). Granted, I’ve never actually seen them live, but the live documents I’ve listened to have been nothing more than unnecessarily strung-out jam sessions. The band is full of wonderful musicians, and their improvisational skills are impressive, yes, but they lack the Phish-esque eclecticism necessary to make such journeys interesting. As such, Remember Two Things is full of live songs (“Ants Marching,” “Tripping Billies”) that would later appear on superior studio albums, and it’s not necessary to hear them any other way. Grade: C

Under the Table and Dreaming

Willie's comments: Dave Matthews’s nasal voice and rubbery guitar playing add a goofy charm to songs like “The Best of What’s Around,” but it’s the bluegrass-based talents of his backing musicians that made Under the Table such a welcome diversion from Top 40 radio back in 1994. The hippie-drippy lyrics of songs like “Typical Situation” are pretty stupid, but there’s a nice, benevolent atmosphere about the album that suits it well. Catchy, too- My introduction to the band was their performance of “What Would You Say?” on Saturday Night Live, and I was blown away by what a great song it is. Grade: B+

Crash

Willie's comments: This album seems a lot longer than it is, largely because there are only a couple songs that are really noticeable as anything other than background trifle. “Too Much” showcase’s Matthews’s darker side (and provides some useful abrasion), while “Two Step” is a bouncy, bittersweet treasure. “Crash Into Me” calls attention to itself in a more irritating fashion, however, with its pseudo-mystical chimes and quasi-seductive lyrics (though I am surprised and impressed that he managed to get the lyrics “Crash into me/ I come into you” on the radio). The rest of the album falls somewhere between those extremes, and it’s never quite appealing enough for me to pull it off the shelf, what with Meat Puppets II sitting right next to it. Grade: C+

READER COMMENTS:

John Schlegel writes: I totally agree that Under the Table and Dreaming is their solidest outing (as do most people it seems). "The Best of What's Around," "Jimmy Thing," "Dancing Nancies," and "What Would You Say?" are all stellar songs. However, I find the other hit single, "Ants Marching," very irritating--partly for personal reasons, and also because of those horrendously self-righteous hippy lyrics. Yes, they all do it the same way, don't they Mr. Matthews? Except for you, of course--you're an original artist and rich rock star, and such a god compared to your legions of ignorant, slobbering fans. But whatever. I hear "Satellite" on the radio a lot too, and it bores me to tears. I guess I find a considerable portion of DMB's stuff to be boring, but the back-up band is sure talented, especially drum virtuoso Carter Beauford. They're good; I just think they're overrated, and I can't stomach how every mediocre band on my college campus tries to sound exactly like them. In closing, I'm a little embarrassed to say that I own the Under the Table and Dreaming CD. But, like I said, it's decent.

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Andrea Maxand

Angel Hat

Willie's comments: Like Cat Power's Chan Marshall with subtly trenchant humor in place of her gauzy otherworldliness, Andrea Maxand is a songwriter whose hypnotic recordings take a couple listens to really make sense. Relying, more often than not, on only her voice and scruffy electric guitar to carry her songs, Maxand has an affinity for relatively simple melodies that are supported by counterintuitive collections of chords, and the end result can be anything from a charmingly bent lullaby ("Peace on TV," which recalls Yo La Tengo at their most subdued) to a clattering racket ("Spun," which ratchets up the tension via a mechanical tape loop). She's at her best when she's at her most aggressive, actually: the magnificent clenched-teeth rumblings of "Survival of the Sentiment" and the fuzzbox-powered "When God Shuts the Door" can't help but overpower some of the sweeter songs, like "Velveteen." Luckily, Andrea's savvy enough to keep even her prettiest songs from becoming treacly by injecting her lyrics with a regret that wavers between exasperated and accepting. And better still, she has a secret weapon in producer Chris Walla, who proves he is as resourceful at capturing Maxand's minimal style as he is with the sunnier pop of Death Cab for Cutie and the Prom. It's all deliberately unostentatious music, which I fear might tempt people to overlook it. Don't. Angel Hat is the equivalent of seeing a coffeehouse singer who sucks you in so thoroughly that you don't even notice your mochaccino's getting cold. Grade: A-

Paper Cut EP

Willie's comments: Andrea described this EP as sort of an "informal" release before her next album, and on the laid-back terms it sets up for itself, it's a kicky little appetizer. Four of these six songs are reinventions of tracks from Angel Hat, recorded with a full band. Of these, "Distractions" is most improved by the full-band setup; what was once a charming-but-minor song blooms into an insistent, alluring jangle song with a huge low end (kudos to drummer Jason McGerr!), showing off the melody for the killer that it is. As for "When God Shuts the Door," "Spun," and "Keep Away," they don't really gain or lose any ground for being bashed out by three people instead of one; they're just quality songs played differently from before. (e.g, "When God Shuts the Door" forsakes the nervousness provided by the awesome, twitchy drum loop on Angel Hat, but that also allows the song to snowball into a firey, borderline-punk tune.) (And yes, those metaphors were mixed intentionally.) You also get two new tracks: "Paper Cut," which is another of Maxand's superb, angular rockers, and "Practice Hour," which is an indescribably gorgeous, wintry solo song that features Andrea's most un-self-consciously clear singing to date. Paper Cut isn't quite as full an experience as Angel Hat, obviously, but it's both a treat for those who already dig her music and an economical way to discover this buried treasure of a songwriter, if you haven't yet. Grade: A-

Where the Words Go

Willie's comments: Maxand's second album comes packaged with a beautiful booklet that does its best to re-create the look and feel of an introvert's prized journal, where fancy homemade paper, cut-out kitten shapes, and pressed leaves conceal the author's most personal thoughts. And if the album can be considered an audio journal, those personal thoughts are what you get: an artfully direct nontet of songs that breathlessly let fly with anger, accusations, and revolution. Where Angel Hat quietly seethed, this album is out for blood in its chronicles of disappointed and disappointing lovers, occasionally set against clever backdrops of spiteful car crashes ("The Shape of Hands") and angry sports fans ("Winners"). Maxand has borrowed Death Cab's entire rhythm section this time (McGerr and bassist Nick Harmer), and they provide a nice, malleable backing for her songs that goes even farther than the full-band recordings from Paper Cut. That is, on tracks like the twisty "Cassie's Song" and the aptly titled "Song in Two Parts," the extra musicians are both expertly integrated into the arrangements and give Maxand enough room and support for her scrappy guitar stylings and increasingly compelling voice to shine. Even the calmer, slower tunes ("Columns," for instance) are fueled by a certain acerbic quality that suggest a spiky companion piece to Fiona Apple's When the Pawn and So Forth. With confident, memorable melodies and chewy lyrics galore, Where the Words Go should handily prove to be one of 2004's best records. Grade: A

THIS ARTIST HAS TENUOUS CONNECTIONS TO: DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE

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John Mayer

Room for Squares

Willie's comments: I know, I know: the idea of a guy who makes his living by merging the musical styles of Ten Summoners' Tales-era Sting and the Dave Matthews Band sounds about as appetizing and flavorful as Kool-Aid made with twice as much water as the package calls for. (And a kind of gross Kool-Aid flavor at that; Mountainberry Punch or something.) Current radio favorite John Mayer is something of a slave to that formula on his debut album, but he nevertheless deserves some credit for the frequency with which his music rises above its components. For although his voice (simultaneously breathy and nasal), pleasant melodies, and acoustic guitar-based songs aren't particularly expressive, they give off a charmingly relaxed air that's just this side of loungey. The breezy "Your Body is a Wonderland," for example, finds Mayer so humble in his sexual overtures that it's refreshingly cute- in exactly the sort of sexy way that Dave Matthews's leering "Crash Into Me" isn't. "My Stupid Mouth" is playful enough to provoke a few smiles as well, and although Mayer is hardly Paul Simon, it's easy to see a welcome glimmer of cleverness behind even his most obvious lyrics (e.g., the trite carpe diem anthem "No Such Thing"). Unpretentiousness alone can't carry an album, though, and songs like "Why Georgia" and "Not Myself" crumble into melodic mush, settling for Sting-esque blandness instead of serving up big, juicy hooks like Josh Rouse or Tahiti 80 would do in a similar situation. Thus, it's never quite enough to supercede my wish that no one had ever stumbled upon the contradiction in terms that is "lite rock," but there's such a cheerful vibe to Room for Squares that it's impossible to actively dislike. If only it were more original or catchy, though, it'd be easy to love. Grade: C+

READER COMMENTS:

jroach@sisna.com writes: In your comments about John Mayer, you mentioned that John's music wasn't very 'origional or catchy'. Personally, I feel that his music is just about as original as you can get! Before John, not many artists wrote that type of music. He has definatley paved the way for the other up and coming artists that write what he does. As a matter of fact, the original sound of his music is what has turned me into such a big fan! I think John is a genius and I completely disagree with you. Although his voice may be, "breathy and nasal", he deserves better comments than that!

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Bruce McCulloch

Shame-Based Man

Willie's comments: This album from the Kids in the Hall’s resident dadaist comedian is funny almost half the time. "Daves I Know" is hilarious and catchy, "That’s America" is a brilliant satire of the USA ("The land where spelling doesn’t count; people’s pets do!"), and all the little call-in radio snippets are funny, but, like most comedy albums, the unfunny bits are embarassingly bad and sadly frequent. You may as well just stick with the soundtrack to Brain Candy. That one has "Happiness Pie." Grade: C

THIS ARTIST ALSO APPEARS ON: KIDS IN THE HALL: BRAIN CANDY SOUNDTRACK

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Meat Puppets

Meat Puppets II

Willie's comments: This album was revered almost exclusively by music critics until Nirvana’s Unplugged album came out, when its total sales probably increased by 6,000 percent. Sadly, the three songs from this album that Nirvana covered (“Plateau,” “Oh, Me,” and “Lake of Fire”) do sound much better coming from Kurt Cobain’s mouth: Meat Puppets frontman Curt Kirkwood sang in an endearingly off-key warble until Forbidden Places, and the songs on this album have a clumsy charm to them, but the aforementioned songs are much tighter on the Nirvana album. However, the twangy folk-rock the Puppets trafficked in here is one of the single most significant milestones in alt-rock history, and with good reason. The airy charms of songs like “Climb” and “Lost” capture the soul of the desert, while fuzzy rock songs like “Split Myself in Two” and “New Gods” are great post-punk fun. This is a deservedly important album. Grade: A

Up on the Sun

Willie's comments: Replacing their fuzzboxes with lightning-fast finger-picking, Curt and his bassist brother Cris paint as mellow a rock soundscape as you’ll ever hear. “Up on the Sun,” “Two Rivers,” and “Away” are as beautiful and narcotic as their titles suggest, while Curt’s nonsensical (read: stoned) lyrics connect the music to odd utopian places in his head, even when he’s singing gibberish like “Got no head/ It’s a bucket with teeth.” Grateful Dead fans will love songs like “Creator,” while everyone should love whimsical numbers like the jazzy “Enchanted Pork Fist” and “Mother’s Milk.” If you’re physically exhausted, this is a good album to relax to. Grade: A

Huevos

Willie's comments: Merging their Grateful Dead influence with an ill-advised dollop of classic rock (ZZ Top is an easy reference point), the Puppets have nothing worth salvaging on this album except the cool title. The album is poorly-produced (it sounds like wastebaskets were placed over all the microphones) and there isn’t one memorable riff or hook to be found. Huevos is ultimately a really draining album. Skip it. Grade: D-

Monsters

Willie's comments: More of Huevos, but at least there’s one good number here: “Attacked by Monsters,” which is remarkable for Curt’s jolting, unhinged (read: stoned) shrieking in the middle. His voice has become a lot better- it’s not atonal anymore, but still rather weak. The mix is a lot better, too, so even though the classic rock elements are as artificially jacked-up and irritating as all classic rock, it’s tolerable to listen to. I still wouldn’t recommend it, though. Grade: C-

Forbidden Places

Willie's comments: The epitome of the Meat Puppets canon. Curt dumped a truckfull of musical ideas, hooks, and styles into 11 songs here, ranging from the grinding metal of “Open Wide” to the bluegrass getaway music of “Six-Gallon Pie.” The most memorable songs are the ultra-fast rocker “Sam,” which makes Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire” seem like a funeral dirge, and the dreamy country of “This Day,” but Forbidden Places is full of songs that surprise you with their complexity and infectiousness on every successive listen, like “No Longer Gone” and “Another Moon.” If They Might Be Giants were raised in Arizona, they might have come out sounding like this (and they did cover the superb “Whirlpool” from this album). Get this album. Get it now. Grade: A+

Too High to Die

Willie's comments: Too High to Die might seem a bit anticlimactic after the tour de force of Forbidden Places, since it’s mostly limited to one genre per song, and some of the songs are big boring failures: “Violet Eyes” isn’t quite off-key, but still distractingly off-sounding, while “Why?” and “Shine” fall in a bland fault line between country and folk. The songs that do connect, though, are great. The twisted power-pop of “Backwater” was the big hit here, while “Roof with a Hole” is a brilliant foray into blues, and “Things” goes on forever, but it’s so catchy you won’t care. Brother Cris writes two engagingly weird rockers, “Station” and “Evil Love,” and the album closes with a vital reworking of Meat Puppets II’s “Lake of Fire.” By that point, you should be well satisfied. Grade: B

Backwater EP

Willie's comments: As an EP, this certainly does its job. The title track is brilliant, as you already know, and Forbidden Places’ “Open Wide” makes an appearance, as does the terrific, creepy churner “Animal” from the White Man’s Burden soundtrack. To complete the package, there’s a new, improved version of the title track from Up on the Sun and a spiffy cover of Marty Robbins’s ‘50s prom tune “White Sport Coat.” Slight, to be sure, but economical and fun, too! Grade: A-

No Joke!

Willie's comments: This was the Puppets' final album with their original lineup, which is disappointing, because the prospect of more albums like this is a tantalizing one. No Joke! is packed with some of the gloomiest songs ever heard: “Scum” opens with a wall of guitar noise as terrifyingly strange as the Butthole Surfers’ best work (which should come as no surprise, given that Surfers guitarist Paul Leary produced the album) and then locks into a messed-up groove, while “Nothing” has noisy bombast that would shame Sonic Youth, and “Head” is a foreboding piano-and-cello number that somehow manages to make perfect sense in its punky surroundings. If lyrics like “Since I hurt myself, I feel so much better/ Suck my eyeball” appeal to you, you will love No Joke! Grade: A-

Golden Lies

Willie's comments: By the time of No Joke's release, Cris was in the grip of a powerful heroin addiction. His behavior became increasingly erratic, arrests became increasingly frequent, and his whereabouts became decreasingly, er... known. (The last report I heard said he was in a Texas jail.) Derrick Bostrom left the band, too, leaving Curt to reinvent the Meat Puppets, which he has done for this, their first album in almost five years. Understandably, Curt seems rather confused about where to go from here on Golden Lies. Much of the album aspires to pick up where No Joke left off, with murky, minor-key power chords and unrelentingly ominous (though hummable) choruses. However, the inspired layers of noise and trippy weirdness are mostly gone here. Worse, too many songs are melodically underdeveloped, content to simply run around in stoned cowpunk circles for four minutes or so. "Tarantula" is a useless rewrite of Too High to Die's "Never to be Found" and "Take Off Your Clothes" fails to live up to its promising title by eschewing any sort of hormonal inspiration (along with any sense of rhythm, at times), but the true nadir comes with "Hercules." As Curt speaks mind-numbingly dumb lyrics in a voice that makes him sound like John S. Hall's less talented brother, the band sinks into sub-Primus hillbilly funk. It's moments like that which put Golden Lies in danger of tarnishing the band's legacy; a threat that is narrowly averted by a few tight, top-notch rockers like "I Quit" (repetitive but memorable) and "Push the Button." In the end, Golden Lies and the new incarnation of the Meat Puppets are good enough to earn the benefit of our doubt, but they're a bit of a disappointment nonetheless. Grade: C

Rise to Your Knees

Willie's comments: Bostrom didn't participate in these sessions (a shame, since new drummer Ted Marcus doesn't really gel with the Kirkwoods, to the point of kinda wrecking "Radio Moth" by missing his cues), but Cris Kirkwood is back on the bass! More importantly, his harmony vocals are back on the mike, which has been perhaps the Pups' best attribute since even before either he or Curt could sing! The result is an album that mostly sounds like the midtempo bits that separated the best numbers on Too High to Die and No Joke: nice stuff, even pleasantly memorable, but so content in their pot-addled coziness that they run the risk of flatlining. Some of the songs ("Island," "This Song") sound like the bashful practice sessions of a high school garage band whose members picked up their instruments only a few weeks ago, though in a way that emphasizes charming simplicity rather than sloppiness. That's not to say it's an acoustic-rock campfire: Curt still overdubs plenty of psychedelic noodles, and he ups the tempo on a few tracks like "Spit." It's just that only a few tracks (such as "Enemy Love Song," which transcends its crappy, Sting-worthy ska arrangement to be embarrassingly catchy, and the trashy insect ode "Fly Like the Wind") add anything significant to the discography, and it's a really long album that gives them ample opportunity to do so. It's a step in the right direction, though, for those of us who really enjoyed their major-label output. Grade: B

THIS ARTIST ALSO APPEARS ON: THE X-FILES: SONGS IN THE KEY OF X SOUNDTRACK ALBUM; GIMME INDIE ROCK, VOL. 1

THIS ARTIST HAS TENUOUS CONNECTIONS TO: BUTTHOLE SURFERS; NIRVANA

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The Men They Couldn't Hang

The Domino Club

Willie's comments: When anyone discusses this little-known British band at all, comparisons to the Pogues immediately surface: both bands play energetic, pub-rocking folk anthems, yadda yadda ya. However, it seems to me more apt to compare the Men They Couldn't Hang to the Australian band Weddings Parties Anything (a comparison which is boosted by the slack cover of WPA's "Industrial Town" on this album). Like Weddings Parties Anything, TMTCH's songs basically stick to bittersweet working-class tales with occasional forays into creepy folklore and tall tales, rather than serving as de facto radical tracts, like the Pogues' tunes. (Even "Billy Morgan," a terrific tale of a revolutionary terrorist, places narrative concerns above any political ones.) Truth be told, TMTCH's blue-collar pastiches are largely ineffective. "Handy Man" and "The Family Way" lack the gift for language possessed by WPA's Mick Thomas, and a more cynical critic might accuse "Great Expectations" of carrying a whiff of condescension... Much better are narrative singalongs like "Grave-Robbing in Gig Harbour" and "The Lion and the Unicorn," but the others are redeemed by solid songwriting (it wouldn't be hard to imagine Robyn Hitchcock crooning "Kingdom of the Blind," and "Dogs Eyes, Owl-Meat, Man Chop" is a fiesty little honkytonk). It's probably a moot point anyway, since this album has been out of print for some time, but if you should stumble across it someday, The Domino Club is well worth a few bucks. Grade: B+

READER COMMENTS:

Paul Simmonds (frontman of The Men They Couldn't Hang) writes: i thought about a long rebuttal, but decided not to. journalsim is a cover for fools. we stand 4 square behind our output, we are the geat survivors.

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Mercury Rev

Yerself is Steam

Willie's comments: After guitarist Johnathan Donahue quit the Flaming Lips (following the band's triumph of overkill Hit to Death in the Future Head), he formed Mercury Rev, a band that initially sought to continue his previous band's legacy of squalling, psychedelic noise as the Lips took a fruitful turn for more accessibly pop-oriented material. Unfortunately, in the band's nascent state, Mercury Rev didn't seem to have a member with the restless guiding vision of Wayne Coyne, and the band simply turned out pointless jumbles of noise that have neither the Lips' rock smarts nor the entertainingly unhinged psychosis of freaks like the Butthole Surfers. Bizarre lead vocalist David Baker speak-sings his way through wanky half-trips like "Chasing a Bee" sounding as though he's about to either burst into giggles or into a McDonald's with a shotgun (and he sounds like he's doing a Nixon impression on the droney "Blue and Black"), but that's not enough to provide a reason to listen to most of these songs; in fact, the piercing feedback of "Syringe Mouth" renders it entirely unlistenable. The lengthy "Frittering" and "Very Sleepy Rivers" hit upon hypnotic grooves of chemical bliss that successfully update the druggy sprawl of Jefferson Airplane for the paint-huffers of the '90s, but those seem like flukes amid the rest of the boring driftwood here. Grade: C

Everlasting Arm EP

Willie's comments: “Everlasting Arm” is quintessential Mercury Rev: Donahue’s gorgeously squawky vocals, a weird arrangement (piano and horns, but the vocal melody seems written for a neo-psychedelic, guitar-based band like, say, the Olivia Tremor Control), and a fair bit of good-natured self-indulgence. However, this EP is a pretty poor value when you can get “Everlasting Arm” on the far superior See You on the Other Side. Here, all you get besides the title track is a pointless, pretentious spoken-word exercise and about 30 minutes of a barely-audible (and not at all interesting) conversation taped in someone’s living room. Grade: D-

See You on the Other Side

Willie's comments: Mercury Rev’s first CD with Donahue as lead singer is the first one you need to bother with. On the Other Side, the self-conscious weirdness of their first couple albums is somewhat toned-down in favor of song craft. The Rev are at their best when they can manage to integrate those two strengths- listenability and creativity- to the exclusion of neither. Although the noisy “Young Man’s Stride” strains too hard in its detour into commercial territory, they succeed with flying colors on tracks like “Empire State” and “Peaceful Night,” which sounds like a hallucinatory take on Kermit the Frog’s “Rainbow Connection.” Grade: B+

Deserter's Songs

Willie's comments: When I first heard this subtle, lush chamber-pop album, I was entranced by the fragile beauty of songs like “Holes” and “Opus 40,” as well as thrilled that a band who had been so previously chaotic could’ve created semi-orchestral gems like this. Then I heard the Flaming Lips’ The Soft Bulletin, which does basically the same thing, only with catchier songs and affecting lyrics, and basically forgot about Deserter’s Songs. Because, as pretty as the songs are on the Rev album, they’re not particularly memorable or catchy, except for “Holes,” “Funny Bird,” and the superlative “Goddess on a Hiway.” Everything’s very well-constructed, and there’s no question that Rev is sincere about what they’re doing, but it’s just not very mind-altering so much as charming. It does make a nice double-bill with The Soft Bulletin, if you have a 2-disc changer that can shuffle the two together, though. Grade: B+

All is Dream

Willie's comments: Since most critics either forgot about Deserter's Songs or retroactively downgraded it in the wake of The Soft Bulletin (this critic included, it must be admitted), Mercury Rev seems to have called a "do-over" for All is Dream. That is, this album feels like an attempt to remake their last album with more fully-formed songs in place of the gauzier bits, in a bid for history's eventual approval. In a manner of speaking, they've succeeded: had All is Dream been released in 1998, Mercury Rev would probably now be considered more than just Flaming Lips Junior. The songs retain Dave Fridmann's groundbreaking, Phil-Spector-does-a-Kubrick-score arrangements and Donahue's gently spacey lyrics, while toning down the fey whimsy in favor of more user-friendly hooks. This painstaking revisionist effort is ultimately for naught, however, because do-overs are not allowed in anyone's discography, and virtually every song here is the doppelganger of something from Deserter's Songs. The vocal melody from "Holes" is recycled for "Nite and Fog," the sing-songy "Tonite It Shows" is intolerably remade as "A Drop in Time," and the only thing distinguishing "Tides of the Moon" from its predecessor, "The Funny Bird," is a new title. Even the best new song, "Little Rhymes," with perhaps the most indelible melody Donahue has ever written, borrows its bass-based formula from "Goddess on a Hiway." All things being equal, All is Dream is unquestionably a better album than Deserter's Songs, and definitely the one you should pick up if you're only now discovering Mercury Rev... but the fact of the matter is, all things are not equal, and this sort of backpedalling is rather unbecoming for a band that used to take pride, for better and worse, in being the kid who would run kilometers ahead of the group without looking back to see if anyone was still following. Grade: B-

SEE ALSO: THE FLAMING LIPS

THIS ARTIST HAS TENUOUS CONNECTIONS TO: THE CHEMICAL BROTHERS; SPARKLEHORSE; MOGWAI; LOTUS CROWN; DELGADOS; MOUNTAIN GOATS

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Stephin Merritt

Eban & Charley soundtrack

Willie's comments: I have never heard of the film that Stephin Merritt composed this soundtrack for (judging from the stills adorning the digipak, it's a gay love story that looks interminably talky and slow, and stars a guy who looks like a vaguely threatening version of Rowan Atkinson), but luckily, that's not a prerequisite for enjoying the album. Just like his music in the Magnetic Fields, the 6ths, the Gothic Archies, and the Future Bible Heroes, Merritt's "solo" work shows him entirely at ease with nearly any style of music or emotional tone. The pieces are equally enjoyable whether Merritt is crooning a teary-eyed ode to an unfaithful lover ("Maria Maria Maria") or just playing silly word games (the assonance exercise "Water Torture," which consists of a lot of phrases like "Lulu glues two blue shoes to tutus to lose the blues"), and the music ranges from infectious, Latin-tinged ballads to strangely charming percussion experiments. Frankly, there are a few too many tracks that fall into this latter category to the exclusion of more fully-formed songs, but it's still hard not to like the cheerful little plinks and plunks as Stephin creates avant-garde chamber music from zippers, toy guiros, and wind-up music boxes. Eban & Charley is more of a toss-off than anything, but it's nevertheless full of understated, twee beauty. Grade: B+

Pieces of April soundtrack

Willie's comments: No curious instrumental tinkering on this soundtrack, however; just ten of Merritt's hopeless/romantic lo-fi pop gems. Granted, three of them are from the Magnetic Fields' 69 Love Songs collection and two of them are from the 6ths' Hyacinths and Thistles (there's the catch for hardcore Merritt fans eager for new material), but Pieces of April nevertheless holds together as a collection very well. The three 69 entries- "Epitath for My Heart," "The Luckiest Guy on the Lower East Side," and "I Think I Need a New Heart"- might've seemed like minor tracks within the context of that album's sprawling loquaciousness, but here they shine as tiny classics in their own right. The 6ths tunes are nice ballads, and the new tracks attain the same serendipitous mixture of playfulness, pain, and punning that marks all Merritt's best work. The two most noteworthy are "Heather, Heather" (whose distorted keyboard plunks harken back to the Fields' great 1994 album Holiday) and "Stray With Me" (whose insanely catchy guitar/violin hook suggests the Young Marble Giants gone country), but it's all sweet, buoyant, and melodic. While it's too short to justify spending a ton of money on- especially if you own the two albums from which half these songs were culled- Pieces of April is otherwise exactly what you want from Stephin Merritt. Grade: B+

SEE ALSO: THE MAGNETIC FIELDS

SEE ALSO: THE 6THS

SEE ALSO: FUTURE BIBLE HEROES

SEE ALSO: GOTHIC ARCHIES

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The Microphones

"The Glow" pt. 2

Willie's comments: If you're the sort of person who's enthralled by the sounds of an orchestra tuning up before a performance, you're probably the target audience for the fourth album from the Microphones (basically a guy named Phil Elvrum, with help from some of his friends). It's a downcast record full of lo-fi, acoustic guitar pop, and it has a surprising following among indie-rock-type types, given that there's nothing on here that hasn't been done before- and better- by Badly Drawn Boy, Neutral Milk Hotel, and the Marshmallow Coast. There are very few proper songs on here, with most of the simplistic, demo-quality melodies evaporating before they have time to register, and being replaced by annoying musical dithering or lengthy, inexplicable moments of near-silence. (The songs themselves are, excepting the title track and "The Gleam pt. 2," rather too dull, slow, and shapeless to make much of an impression anyway.) I'm unsure whether this is all supposed to be atmospheric or what, but despite sporadic moments of beauty and catchiness- and Elvrum's consistently poetic lyrics- listening to "The Glow" feels as needlessly time-consuming as being stopped at an extraordinarily lengthy red light. Grade: C-

READER COMMENTS:

kenthebox@hotmail.com writes: Hi there. I've been reading your site for a while now, and I really enjoy it. You've turned me on to a whole slew of good new music, and I appreciate it. =]

Anyway, that said, I've got a bit of a bone to pick with you regarding your review of "The Glow pt. 2" by the Microphones. The comparison to Neutral Milk Hotel is a valid one, and if you put a gun to my head and forced me to choose one album (why would you do that, though?!), I would probably go with "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea", but personally I think they're both pretty close to being equals. The big difference of course is that, where "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea" is carefully crafted and arranged in order to create eleven near-perfect lo-fi pop gems, "The Glow, pt. 2" is a near-Guided by Voices sprawling mess of a record going in a zilion different directions at once. Where you hear an album that's "dull" and "shapeless", I hear a record filled with gorgeous melodies -- some more gorgeous than others, because the songs work very much on a hit-or-miss basis -- and varied, eclectic arrangements.

Though this could all be just a matter of personal taste, as so many music arguments are. I've been hurling adjectives like dull, slow and shapeless at Pink Floyd for years and preached Genesis Genesis GENESIS for years now to no avail. =]

A word to the wise, though... if you thought "The Glow, pt. 2" was dull, then stay the hell away from their other highly-touted album "It Was Hot, We Stayed in the Water". Not only is that thing deadly dull, it seems like Phil is actively trying to annoy the shit out of me when I listen to it.

LoadesC writes: This is one of the best bands going these days. The only criticism I can give is that their albums sound too similar, but seeing as they make music that is pretty much unlike any other band then thats just a minor gripe. Great music that never annoys and is light years away from shitty chart pop.

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Microstoria

_snd

Willie's comments: Until I got fired for getting headaches, I worked as the administrative assistant at a nonprofit organization, which required me to spend a lot of time in the copy room. Though it wasn't the most intellectually challenging environment I've ever been in, I came to crave the meditative smothering that the copy room imposed upon me. Particularly before my daily caffeine kicked in, I found there was a techno-Zen tranquility hidden amid the constant voicemail beeps and fluorescent hums of an office that barely understood the dated technology it possessed. That's the tone of this, the second album from Microstoria, which is an experimental project from Jan St. Werner (of Mouse on Mars and, less notably, Lithops) and Markus Popp (of Oval). It's not "ambient music" in the usual, Eno-derived sense of the term, by which I mean it's not, largely, based on identifiable notes... unless you have such naturally perfect pitch that you could pick out notes in an electronic door chime or the buzzing of a snoozing postage meter. Rather, it's ambient noise presented in patterns, with underplayed titles like "Quit Not Save," "Sleepy People/Network Down," and "Bpi." If you pay attention, you can pick out bass chords and synth samples, but you're really not supposed to consciously notice the content of tracks like the transcendent "Per Formal," which invites a sort of bureaucratic hypnosis that you won't get in trouble for indulging. Even when feedback threatens to puncture the dazed haze, it remains mostly subliminal: server troubles in someone else's office. _snd is a choir of cherubim for IT guys. The squalling of fax machines disappearing into the sound baffles on disposable cubicle walls. You can almost smell the toner. Grade: A-

SEE ALSO: MOUSE ON MARS

SEE ALSO: LITHOPS

WRITE COMMENTS ABOUT MICROSTORIA

Midnight Oil

Head Injuries

Willie's comments: The second album from these perennially iconoclastic Aussies (after a self-titled debut) will probably surprise fans of their later, more aggressive work. Understandably, the band hadn't quite decided on a defining sound at this point in their career, which allows for a nice buffet of tones and styles on Head Injuries (see Capricornia below for an explanation of how finding a "defining sound" can mean creative paralysis), but for all its bright spots, it's a smorgasboard of tones and styles from 1979. "Section 5 (Bus to Bondi)," for instance, sounds like a tribute to Split Enz with its dorky piano banging, and the artfully arranged guitars of "Naked Flame" recall no one so much as Rush. All this is fine if, like me, you dig early new wave production values because of their artificial glossiness, but it's really not a style that suits Midnight Oil's spitefully didactic "message" songs. Although Nightmare Before Christmas-looking frontman Peter Garrett is less explicit in his politically motivated rants than he would later become, the protests of songs like "No Reaction" don't quite fit with their chimey guitars and chewy choruses (which aren't powerhouse-anthemic at this point so much as they are disposably catchy). Still, if you're going into the album just looking for some moody, early-'80s rock as opposed to effective Green Party jingles, Head Injuries is consistently engaging. "Koala Sprint" is worth a listen if only for its gorgeous, synth-based coda, while "Profiteers" is an ominous delight, and "Cold Cold Change" is an infectious- albeit muted- rocker that seems like it harbors ambitions to become a Poison-esque hair metal epic. You know how it feels when you're looking at dorky old pictures of your girlfriend in her high school yearbook, and although you're jokingly making fun of her, you secretly think that she looked pretty hot even then? That's what Head Injuries is like, in retrospect. Grade: B+

Place Without a Postcard

Willie's comments: Geez-o-pete. "Dated" does not begin to describe how obsolete and ineffectual this album sounds today, though I'd question whether anyone was particularly impressed by it even twenty years ago. Famous rock producer Glyn Johns was recruited to helm Place Without a Postcard, and the album bears the marks of a producer who was enamored of all the then-trendy punk/new wave production tricks (which are here in even greater force than on Head Injuries) and determined to use them regardless of whether they fit the style of the band he was working with. The experiment yields a couple of crazy guitar tones (the super-flanger on "Written in the Heart," for example, or the slow-building solo on the otherwise limp "Brave Faces"), but mostly, Midnight Oil's songs are just saddled with an unbecoming jerkiness. Jagged rhythms, airless drums, and sharp guitars might have worked for Wire, the Talking Heads, and Black Sea-era XTC, but it leaves Midnight Oil's blustery tunes sounding stranded and detached. Compounding the problem, the band frequently stops in its tracks in the middle of songs like "Basement Flat," slipping into quasi-"smoldering" breakdowns when they should be hitting their stride. Catchy little licks do pop up here and there on Place Without a Postcard, particularly on the three-song suite composed of "Quinella Holiday," "Loves on Sale," and "If Ned Kelly Was King," which bounds madly about through a series of musical fragments that, if fleshed out, could probably have yielded a mini-album's worth of great songs on their own. However, the performances are muted, and even Garrett never really comes unhinged in his uniquely compelling way. And believe me, nothing kills the charm of Midnight Oil faster than the red-faced emotion being sucked from their music. Grade: C

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

Willie's comments: The first album on which the band seems as though they've fixed their collective glare on a definite patch of musical territory, 10987654321 shows Peter Garrett finally getting specific with his gripes ("US Forces" includes an amusing jab at L. Ron Hubbard, while "Short Memory" lists numerous atrocities that have been committed worldwide) and the band finally coalescing into a confidently scrappy unit. True, the new wave cues that dominate songs like "Outside World" (which sounds like a pissed-off Psychedelic Furs outtake) and "Somebody's Trying to Tell Me Something" are becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the band moves toward more anthemic material, but any chintziness is overpowered by the militant charge of the songwriting. "Power and the Passion," for instance, is a solid enough rocker to surmount not only its jerky, Oingo Boingo-style arrangement, but an embarrassing drum break in the middle. Still, the band is at its best when it charts its own path and plays down the early '80s nonsense, as on the hummable "Read About It" or the gratifyingly complex "Scream in Blue," which begins as a trippy bit of guitar abuse but suddenly falls into a twisted, Noel Coward-by-way-of-Pink Floyd chamber-rock song. This album stops short of becoming a classic, concluding as it does with three relatively weak tracks, but it's the first real exhibition we've had of the pairing of combative anger and accessible hooks that Midnight Oil would build their reputation on. Grade: B+

Red Sails in the Sunset

Willie's comments: This album is sort of like the Bizarro Place Without a Postcard. It's a return to the fake-sounding cheese of that album, but this time it all works except for the three-song suite at the end ("Harrisburg," "Bells and Horns in the Back of Beyond," and "Shipyards of New Zealand," which might not qualify as a suite, strictly speaking, but they flow pretty neatly into each other and all feature the same bland synth-drone structure). The difference between the two albums is that Postcard was full of smudgy, half-formed songs that were further hampered by its trapped-in-the-'80s production, whereas Red Sails in the Sunset embraces the mid-'80s musical zeitgeist and employs it in the service of the sort of newly mature slogan-rock they'd perfected on their previous record. It's a strange listen at first: guitarists Jim Moginie and Martin Rotsey are relegated to the background on most tracks, with the musical focus shifting to bassist Peter Gifford and drummer Rob Hirst (whose instruments have been electronically tweaked until they almost sound like transplanted rhythm tracks from Joy Division songs). This confusion is furthered by the exciting opening track, "When the Generals Talk," which replaces Garrett's righteous bray with Hirst's somewhat plainer, Aussie-accented vocals, and cruises along to a thin (yet funky) arrangement that could've sprung from Michael Jackson's pre-Bad songbook. Stop fighting this inexplicable turn of events, though, and you've got a great collection of songs that are as simultaneously memorable and dark as anything Midnight Oil has ever done. The singles "Best of Both Worlds" and "Kosciusko" are comparatively normal tracks that will help most listeners find their way through the thick overgrowth of the rest of the album, but it's more rewarding to work a few moments to appreciate slower tracks like "Sleep" (a great musical lick in the chorus lands this among my favorite Oil songs) and "Who Can Stand in the Way" (is that a sample from the Psycho score?). Most of this stuff probably falls as close to Rockwell as it does to the Midnight Oil who wrote "Blue Sky Mine," but what a fabulous middle ground they find. Grade: A-

Diesel and Dust

Willie's comments: Interesting album covers really aren't Midnight Oil's thing, are they? Just an observation. Anyway, this album marks a return to the pounding anthems of 10, 9, 8... but with all of the new wave elements finally out of their system. In fact, because this album contains two of the band's biggest Stateside hits- the top-notch blisters of Aboriginal support "Beds are Burning" and "The Dead Heart"- this jangly, harmonic style of rock is the sound that most people associate with Midnight Oil in the first place. And if you like those songs, you shan't be disappointed in the rest of the record. Diesel and Dust is fairly stripped-down, generally sticking to a simple guitar/bass/drum formula and skimping on the amusing noises that made their previous couple albums so oddly fascinating, but jaw-droppingly catchy songs like "Sometimes" and "Bullroarer" don't need any fancy guitar shredding or production tricks to be terrific. (Though I do enjoy the way the latter song is set to a rhythmic sample of a whooshing boomerang.) Despite some irksomely logy tempos here and there ("Put Down That Weapon," "Warakurna"), and a big, boring whiff in the form of "Arctic World," Diesel and Dust is a good starting point for Midnight Oil newbies: it's not challenging in the least, but that just means that there's a lot of easily accessible substance here. Grade: B+

Blue Sky Mining

Willie's comments: This album opens with the absolute pinnacle of Midnight Oil's career: the sort-of title track "Blue Sky Mine" is the crushed lament of a sugar refinery worker that contains one of the most exhilarating choruses ever penned, a galloping tempo, and a strangely upbeat bridge, as well as urgent backing vocals and a terrific, howling harmonica break. If R.E.M. were out of the equation, I'd call it the best jangle-rock song of all time. Blue Sky Mining itself is, unfortunately, only sporadically as thrilling as that song. "Forgotten Years" contains another in the group's series of genetically enhanced SuperChoruses, and both "One Country" and "Antarctica" capitalize upon Midnight Oil's penchant for occasionally dispensing with a driving rhythm, and patiently bringing some songs to a slow boil. (The former is actually quite moving, while the latter turns the phrase "I am a storm cloud" into something far scarier- even if it does sound like Garrett is saying, "I am a snowplow.") However, their fondness for slow, droney numbers becomes fatally annoying on the uneventful "Bedlam Bridge" and the OMD-esque "Mountains of Burma." It's interesting to hear this singlemindedly political band attempt a love song on the catchy "Shakers and Movers," and ultimately I wish the Oils had taken a few more risks like that here, as opposed to phoned-in tracks like "King of the Mountain." At any rate, I can't see giving this album a wholehearted recommendation to anyone who was planning on spending more than maybe six dollars on it, but it's still not an album that a self-respecting Midnight Oil fan should really be without. Grade: B

Scream in Blue Live

Willie's comments: To say that Peter Garrett has a unique stage demeanor is understating things a bit. In the band's heydey, he would thrash madly all around the stage, like a short-circuiting battle-droid, bellowing political statements and just generally making it impossible to look anywhere else. (I saw the band perform on Saturday Night Live when I was 11, and he scared the living crap out of me.) I recently caught the band on the Capricornia tour, and though the years seem to have calmed him a little bit, there's still no preparing you for how unnervingly captivating- and a little intimidating- it is to see this hulking, hairless, ripped Aussie giant leap onstage and fix his scowl of blame squarely on you. He's like a socially-conscious version of Kurtz from Heart of Darkness, in the sense that his very presence is so imposing that he seems practically omnipotent, and you're never quite able to let your guard down because he carries such an air of frustration and vague menace. That powerful attitude comes through even without his visual hijinks on this live retrospective (culling tracks from various shows between 1982 and 1990), and the rest of the band steps up their performances to match his urgency. Where the Oils' studio tracks are occasionally marred by a certain airless distance- a feeling that they've handicapped the songs' energy a little, for some reason- here the band comes out firing. Songs that seemed rather minor on previous albums, such as "Brave Faces," "Stars of Warburton," and "Sell My Soul," are recast as arena-size rock classics- inventive solos and all- while the already-classic "Beds are Burning" and "Sometimes" are present in heartfelt renditions that are boosted by the way the band is obviously feeding off the crowd's enthusiasm. One gets the impression that these guys are never happier than when they're able to totally deliver on the audience's desire to rock, to a point where the crowd even gives it up for improvised screeds about the Aboriginal people of Australia (such as the one present at the end of "Progress"), and that joy permeates the entire album. I bet videos of these performances would be even more packed with revelations, but failing that, Scream in Blue Live is a fine collection of snapshots of Midnight Oil at their best. Grade: A

Earth and Sun and Moon

Willie's comments: The Oils sound more confident and energized on Earth and Sun and Moon than they have on any studio album since 10, 9, 8. Even on the slightest of tracks here ("Now or Never Land"), the harmonies are sharp, the rhythm section crackles, and Garrett sounds practically Bono-esque in his cocksure vocal swagger. It's kind of a shame, then, that the pleasures of this album are considerably scaled down when compared with the peaks of their previous work- consistently though they deliver those pleasures here. That is, there are no unimpeachable, quintessential Midnight Oil tracks here on par with "Blue Sky Mine" or "Sometimes" that immediately stand out as brilliant. Instead, you just get clever melodic turns like the naggingly rousing chorus to "My Country" and the goosebump-inducing, haunting piano line to "Bushfire": isolated moments of joy whose sheer numbers more than add up to a satisfying listen, but vanish like disappearing butterflies as soon as the songs are over. Even after several listens, solid songs like "Feeding Frenzy" and "Drums of Heaven" still lack a certain musical substance that I can't quite put my finger on. When you get right down to it, Earth and Sun and Moon is more a light snack than a proper, heavy, sit-in-your-stomach-like-a-hockey-puck Midnight Oil meal. If that's what you're in the mood for, terrific- it's good ephemeral fun. Grade: B+

Breathe

Willie's comments: If you're not averse to living in a land of fantasy and imagination, listening to Breathe can be an interesting experience. Here's how: pretend that it's twenty years in the future, presumably after Midnight Oil has retired from the lucrative world of rockin', and Peter Garrett has gone on to an even more lucrative position in the Tostitos brand United Nations. To mark their belated induction into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame, some record company has finally released Breathe, the so-called "lost" Midnight Oil record that was recorded on a whim during the band's five-year hiatus between Earth and Sun and Moon and Redneck Wonderland but deemed too weak to release by the band. (To be clear, Breathe was actually released in 1996; we're still pretending here.) With the lowered expectations that come with this curiosity finally being unearthed, it's a decent little conversation piece (assuming that, 20 years from now, you'll be traveling in social circles that consist mostly of chatty Midnight Oil fans). It's easy to see why the record was shelved for so long- it's awfully bland for the Oils, without any of their trademark hooks or energy. The songs sound like they were recorded during a period of writer's block for the band, as the songs just sort of trudge around restlessly without much notable happening. Just utterly average beats, exhausted riffs, and occasional one-off genre exercises like the dull cowboy tune "One Too Many Times." One can practically hear Garrett stalking madly around the studio on midtempo sludge like "Star of Hope," "Surf's Up Tonight," and "Common Ground," futilely willing inspiration to strike. And in all fairness, inspiration does make a couple cameos here, in the the identifiably Australian melody of "Barest Degree," and in "Sins of Omission," which finds the spi