albums

Rip It Up, Issue 213, 1 May 1995, Page 32

albums

MARTIN BELL

TRICKY Maxinquaye (4th and Broadway)

Bristol. The concrete Hamilton of England. No wonder all these groups escape with a laid back, pained and haunted sound. But you wanna know why Tricky is heralded as the best of Bristol’s ghostly trinity? Massive Attack needed squillions of collaborators to keep on top. Portishead slipped into ‘stop me if you think you’ve heard this one before’ syndrome. But Tricky’s got it all: the beats, the variety, the voice and the suss.

Before falling out with Massive Attack, he sucked out any worthwhile creative marrow (without him ‘Karmacoma’ and ‘Eurochild’ would have been nothing). The chorus of ‘Overcome’ pokes fun at them as Martine sings ‘Karmacoma' and sneaks in ‘Jamaican in Roma’. ‘Hell Is Around The Corner’ rips the backing from Portishead’s ‘Sour Times’ and makes it a squillion times cooler.

But beyond the musical wind-ups, Tricky’s fresh ideas and brilliance rise above his stoned, numb, unambitious counterparts. A cover of Public Enemy’s ‘Black Steel In The Hour Of Chaos'. Brilliant. Even the simplicity of his samples are stunning, like an alien informant from Star Wars that’s been looped and scratched on ‘Brand New, You’re Retro’ (song title says it all).

Then there’s Martine, his vocal - partner in crime. The delicate, breathless beauty to Tricky’s smooth, evil beast. Check out ‘Suffocated Love’ — not speedy or wordy, just dirty, velvety, smug and sexy. Maxinquaye is dripping with confidence and paranoia. The beats are crusty and stealthy. The tracks are catchy. What else do you need? JOHN TAITE

PUMPKINHEAD Sloth (Wildside)

Sloth is a collection of big-hitting, hard, heavy pop tunes. Not grunge, or garage, or any other irritating label. What you’ve got here is ‘pop’, even if played at 150 decibels. Sloth is the sound of a band that’s already found its feet, the sound of a band that’s played 500 gigs before recording their debut album. For the bulk of the songs, the production enhances the melodies, showcasing the big-hitting chorsuses and catchy riffs of songs like ‘Water’, ‘Third Eye’ and ‘Holed’. However, the sound captured is not that of Pumpkinhead live. Those eager to relive the raw Pumpkinhead should simply kick in one speaker, crunch the volume to 10, smack yourself in the head and crowd surf' on the kitchen table, or wait for the live album. Nope, what we’ve got here is a classy, polished debut, a million miles from the irritating 10-tech misguided fools think epitomises the so called ‘New Zealand' sound. Stand out tracks include ‘Scapegoat’, which alternates between a grunty, driving riff and a sweeping anthemic chorus, and the brilliant ‘Between the Lines’, showcasing departed member Jason Harmon’s guitar genius. Apart from ‘I Like’, the heavier tracks end up sounding forced and lifeless in comparison to the more melodic material that comprises the bulk of Sloth. Given the vast majority of tunes fall into Pumpkinhead’s “poppy/melodic” groove, it would be churlish, nay blackguardly, to quibble about the odd bottle of meth’s amongst the champagne. ‘I Like’ these songs a lot.

KEVIN LIST

GENE Olympian (Polygram)

Not so much charlatan as chameleon. Not so much chameleon as a musical blob taking on

the characteristics of the music it’s consumed in the past. You know, the Smiths, the Smiths, Morrissey, bands like that. But then, ‘the new Smiths’ has almost become a recognised pigeonhole for any new English bands with emotionally loaded lyrics, humable tunes and majestic melodies. Anyway, Martin Rossiter sounds more like David Gahan from Depeche Mode. So, here's the album. ‘Haunted By You', the latest single, is a great start — gives you just what you’re expecting — a jaunt of pain and a ‘Keep Me Hanging On’ set of lyrics. The rest of the stand-out tracks (thankfully) don’t all sound the same. ‘Left Handed’ is gay, anthemic and angry: ‘lt’s illegal, that my clan aren’t seen as people.’ ‘Still Can't Find the Phone’ is a ‘Cemetery Gates’ if ever there was one — train brushed snare, Steve Mason’s lightest guitar jangles and Rossiter melodically moaning: ‘l’ve got good cause to moan.’ This leads us into ‘Sleep Well Tonight’, which swayed loads of people into the Gene scene, but left me grabbing for Elastica. The climbing symphony of ‘Olympian’ would have been the climactic closing song if they were the other new Smiths, Suede; but ‘We’ll Find Our Own Way’ leaves us with our heads in our hands, muffling sobs and braving a smile. Your type of thing?

JOHN TAITE

JULIANA HATFIELD Only Everything (Mammoth/White)

Juliana Hatfield said hello with the bittersweet pop of Hey Babe. She rocked out with the candy coated angst of Become What You Are. Now she has married the two styles for Only Everything. The stand-out track is the first single, 'Universal Heart Beat’. It sparkles like one of those necklaces that starts on the little jewels and works its way up to the whoppers. Juliana's Wurlitzer electric piano gives the verses a quirky lilt, which make way for the power guitars (all Juliana’s, everywhere) and escalating drums of the chorus. ‘Dumb Fun’ also does interesting things, with different tempos falling over themselves left, right and centre. ‘Live On Tomorrow’ is Juliana’s trademarked pretty on the outside piece — lovely when listened to and heartbreaking when taken in. The main emotional clout is packed (undisguised by pretty bits) in ‘Dying Proof’: ‘Finding you, turning blue... I can see, what not to do / One look at you / The dying proof.’ The seriousness of the song seeps from the lyrics, leaching into the slow grinding guitars. While Only Everything hasn’t grabbed me as quickly as its predecessors, I am sure it will grow to be more of a stayer. I, for one, have taken too many road trips with Become What You Are. I am relishing breaking in this album with a little less of the gung-ho. gusto which can ruin a serious long term relationship with an album.

BRONWYN TRUDGEON

NATHAN HAINES Shift Left (Huh!)

I saw this album advertised a couple of days ago as cafe society music for the 90s; not necessarily a label Nathan would be thrilled about, I imagine, but at times Lam inclined to agree. Nathan has clearly been influenced by his time in New York, but some tracks sound more like the Crusaders than the hard edged, New York new jazz of Steve Coleman or Greg Osby. If this album is cool, there is also something deeper which creeps up on you after a couple of. listenings. It’s the kind of simplicity and understatement which Miles perfected in the late 60s. The fragments of melody and the

sound of the instruments start making more sense.

Nathan must do a lot of composition at the keyboard, as this is a surprisingly keyboard dominated album. Kevin Field creates some exquisite 70s fusion feels with his Rhodes and synth playing, and the rest of the playing is equally tasty. The strings fit in perfectly, in contrast to the scratching, which is a bit predictable, adding more of a late 80s feel than lower East Side 90s. Still, even this minor blemish becomes endearing after a few listens. This album wilt sound good anywhere and is refreshingly international in focus. It is also the first New Zealand studio ‘acid jazz’ album, and as such is a landmark in New Zealand music. You may hear it a lot in cafes, but you’ll still want to hear it at home.

CRITTERS BUGGIN Guest (Sony)

NICKY

Loosegroove is the new label founded by Pearl Jam guitarist Stone Gossard, and Guest is one of it’s first releases. Recorded last year in his 24-track basement studio, it’s a collection of eight instrumental jams and one song, ‘Naked Truth’, which features Shawn Smith (ex Brad) on vocals. The band comprises three former New Bohemians and Skerik (saxitar), who was a member of the now defunct Sadhappy. They were active from 1989-1992, and included Hendrix and Coltrance in their repertoire. It is from here Critters Buggin take their cue. The album is well paced, moving through funky, up-tempo numbers like the opening ‘Shag’, which'dispenses with foreplay altogether, to slower meditative pieces like ‘Critters Theme’, which proves that ‘Shag’ was no premature ejaculation. More use could have been made of keyboards, especially on slower tracks like the closing ‘Los Lobos’, which shows up the band’s compositional limitations. Still, a sporadically impressive debut for the new label.

MARK DONOVAN

SILVERCHAIR Frogstomp (Sony)

'Age and treachery will always triumph over youth and idealism’ — an old geezer. Right, seeing as how the public has already been afflicted with a million boring articles about how young Silverchair are, I’m not gonna waste your valuable time by mentioning it. Neither will I fritter away valuable column space comparing Silverchair with Nirvana. They don’t sound anything like bloody Nirvana anyway. They sound like friggin’ Soundgarden, or Metallica, or rrfaybe Led Zeppelin covering a Soundgarden song. -On the plus side for Frogstomp is the fact that after a couple of plays nothing sounds as dire as the appalling ‘Tomorrow’. On the debit side of the great reviewer in the sky’s ledger, nothing really sounds that good either. Most tracks give the impression a bunch of reasonably skilled but unimaginative musos are jamming riffs from their favourite records. What’s missing from Frogstomp is the ability to turn a really good riff into a song that is memorable and catchy. Nevertheless, despite my opinionated ramblings, I’ll wager Frogstomp sells millions, so in that case I’ll bow to public opinion and lick the backside of a brilliant publicity campaign...

Silverchair are three spunky boys and we’d all like to shag the little blighters — apart from us guys, we wish we were them. Not only are

they spunky and talentedv but-young, Hke not getting into pubs young. So good luck lads, make a mint, sow your wild oats and forgive this sad ‘youngish’ man’s negativity.

KEVIN LIST

BOMB THE BASS Clear (Island)

Tim Simenon’s always had it sussed. From his sound engineer assignment (‘Beat Dis’) that turned into hip-hop history, to his anonymous money spinning production credits (Naomi Campbell!), to this. Enter The Dragon was fun, timely. Unknown Territory was pushing the limits and being cool. This, well it’s so confident that you might try not to get sucked into this accomplished manipulter of sounds — but really, you've got no choice. There’s just so much here.

‘Bug Powder Dust'. Wow, whadda beaudy. Justin ‘B Boys On Acid’ Warfield over some deadly rhythms, Naked Lunch samples and scream scratching. But you know that already. ‘Sleepyhead’ gives us some Bim Sherman/Skip McDonald On U bizzo. And ‘Darkheart’ with Spikey T is a stomping, grinding Robo-Jah™. The singles are the biggies (and I’m sure Sinead O’Connor’s ‘Empire’ can’t be too far off). But then there’s ‘Tidal Wave’ that finally answers Simenon’s little prayers for an original, smooth soul number. And ‘sml Barrel’, Will Self doing some spoken word about the deterioration of a morphine addict, is vivid, disgusting and brilliant. Everything to all people? Almost.

JOHN TAITE

MIKE WATT Ball Hog Or Tugboat? (BMG)

Paradoxical kind of guy, that Mike Watt, and now he’s made an album to prove it. After Firehose finally limped to the grave, Watt has now done a solo album that features about 40+ members of the alternative rock glitterai, just about everyone famous you can imagine, and a few more besides. At times this isn't so good. Evan Dando reinforces every prejudice I've ever had about grunge/slacker/whatever (take a bath and get a goddamn job); a bunch of Seattle millionaires who have built careers on rehashing Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Sabbath et al, sing about how the kids should be ‘Against the 70s’ and so forth. Of course, this works both ways, and luckily there are more great moments than bad in this talent pool. Joe Baiza and Nels Cline on guitars stand out, as do the vocals of Carla Bozulich (Ethyl Meatplow/Geraldine Fibbers) and the efforts of various Meat Puppets, Beastie Boys and more. The fact that Watt can write songs helps a great deal, however. Even though he only sings on 3 of 17 tracks, it’s obvious the material is his. Try to forget who the supporting cast are and just enjoy the ride.

MAD SEASON Above (Colubmia)

KIRK GEE

The sticker on the front says all that’s needed to lure prospective buyers. Mad Season are: Layne Staley (Alice in Chains), Mike McCready (Pearl Jam), Barrett Martin (Screaming Trees) and John ‘Baker’ Saunders. Mark Lanegan (Screaming Trees) provides guest vocals on two tracks. Consequently, this collectively spawned baby shines with sheer accomplishment.

It’s a sobering collection of songs, with all

lyrics (and illustrations) by Staley (save a cowriting credit with Lanegan on ‘Long Gone Day’). On ‘X Ray Mind’, he sums up the lyrical content with a large dose of irony: ‘So sit back and have, an hysterical, laugh at tiny holes / Buy and trade men's souls.’ I guarantee you won’t be laughing, but the mere fact these emotions have been recorded gives them a heartening redemptive quality. This is strong stuff: a long journey into a dark place. Above is a damn fine excuse to.take a long wallow in a lot of pain. Give it a chance to get inside your head, and I guarantee it won’t leave in a hurry.

BRONWYN TRUDGEON

JAYHAWKS Tomorrow the Green Grass (American/BMG)

The Jayhawks’ debut album, Hollywood Town Hall, was a fine and wonderful thing, but it fell into the cracks between rock and country, which meant it was pretty resoundingly ignored. Not a problem, because the ‘Hawks are back with a slightly modified lineup (lost the permanent drummer, but picked up a

keyboardist/pianist) and another very, very fine album. Tomorrow the Green Grass works the same inspirational vein as Hollywood Town Hall', nice, pure vocal harmonies, working with real rich guitar sound. They build layer upon layer. of melody, using the vocals, keyboards and guitars as almost equal components. It seems like a far lusher production than the last album, and tracks like ‘Blue’ really benefit from this. Things never get too raucous, however. There’s . always a slightly wistful and

melancholic air to the Jayhawks’ songs. This can, at times, lead to some very maudlin moments, but mostly it just means the really good songwriting moments are even more evocative. Music as a craft lives on in albums like this one.

MUDHONEY My Brother the Cow (Warners)

KIRK GEE

“We’re the only grunge band left in 95. Noone else will take the word ‘grunge’, but we will," said a member of Mudhoney. If you're seriously into Collective Soul or whatever, I doubt you’ll understand the beauty of this comment. Grunge was a word and it was used out of context, especially in the case of Mudhoney, who are a plain and simple rock ’n’ roll band, who posses more wit, humour, parody and sheer rock ’n’ roll talent than too many bands to mention. You eat broccoli ‘cause it’s good for you and you eat McDonald’s ‘cause it isn’t, but it sure is tasty. Mudhoney are, of course, the McDonald’s of the music industry. They rock, they hate everybody and they have fun doing it. ‘Thanks to the kids for making me who I am / 20 percent gross goes straight to the man,’ Mark Arm spits on ‘Generation Spokesmodel’. He continues spitting on ‘lnto Your Shtik’: ‘Kissin’ ass is part of the job / She loves her job / What the heli / She does it so we11...’ says it all really.

As well as taking the piss out of, and hating,, the music industry, they’ve got a wee political

ditty in the form of ‘Fearless Doctor Killers’. Who coulda said it better than Mark: ‘l’m all for life / Till the bastard’s born / After that he's on his own / And if he does crime, trying to survive / I’ll make damn sure he’s electrified.’ They say it all and they rock too!

SHIRLEY CHARLES

THE MAGICK HEADS Before We Go Under (Flying Nun)

The Magick Heads, the Dunedin based ‘supergroup’ (of sorts) responsible for the 1992 single ‘Back Of Her Hand’, return here with their debut album. Back then they included in their number the 3Ds two Davids, Mithchell and Saunders, along with Jane Sinnott and the Clean Bat himself, Robert Scott. Their- new line-up features Sinnott and Scott, now augmented by Jim Strang and Alan 'Starrett (from that other Flying Nun ‘supergroup’ the Pop Art Toasters). Mitchell does return, however, to wrench some noises from his guitar on the suitably Celtic ‘Beast Of Bodmin Moor’.

Stylistically, Before We Go Under displays no great breadth of vision and nor does it need to. The Magick Heads are content to operate within the boundaries of what they do well — flok tinged pop songs, heavy on melody, warmth and natural beauty. The tracks featuring Sinnott’s sweet lead vocals are stronger, than Scott's largely characterless efforts but together the pair's incandescent harmonies give Scott’s voice some much needed depth. This is heard to best effect on the lovely ‘Light Of the Night’ and the album closer ‘Good Books’. ‘Standing at the Edge' and ‘Hear From You' are similarly appealing. Before you know it, Before We Go UndeYs 13 tracks have drifted by in a totally unpretentious, and charming (if not utterly captivating) fashion.

BURNING SPEAR Social Living (Blood and Fire/Chant)

MARTIN BELL

YABBY YU King Tubby’s Prophecy of Dub (Blood and Fire/Chant)

KEITH HUDSON Pick A Dub (Blood and Fire/Chant)

Seems like everyone wants to reissue Jamaica’s finest. These three classics come from the Blood and Fire label started by Simply Red managers Elliot Rashman and Andy Dodd, along with friends Bob Hardman and Steve

Their mission? “To reissue vintage Jamaican

music.”

The space dubsters at On U Sound have started Pressure Sounds to do the same thing.

Social Living, originally released in 1978, is one of Burning Spear’s finest hours. Classic roots rhythm from some of Jamaica's top studio musicians, including Robbie Shakespeare and Aston ‘Familyman’ Barrett. Floating above is the distinctive rich voice of Spear, aka Winston Rodney. The themes are familiar — Marcus Garvey, social conditions, black history. Social Living, or Marcus Garvey, as it is also called on the liner notes, is the last in a series of four albums Burning Spear made for Island Records from 1974 to 1978, and commonly regarded as his best work. Keith Hudson's Pick A Dub was a big seller in the winter of 1974/75 in Jamaica. The dentist turned producer turned the bass and drums right up and let the rhythm take control. Guitar, ■ organ, vocals and the melodica of Augustus Pablos was on and out of the mix. Hudson creates heaps of space around the rhythms, keeps everything really simple, and the result is a stark dub experience. Compared to much of the hi-tech, reverb heavy dub in the 90s, this is subtle and warm. That is its beauty.

Yabby Yu, aka Vivian Jackson, sounds like one staunch Rastafarian. He had led the vocal group the Prophets since 1972, developing a reputation as an uncompromising roots artist. He was one of the first producers to use the legendary King Tubby’s studio, and recorded

this, his first dub album, in 1976. Yabby was responsible for the rhythms, including some used previously by the Prophets, and King Tubby added his studio mastery. Like Keith Hudson in the same era, the drums and bass are turned right up and the rhyhm takes control. Horns and Hammond organ add punctuation, and tracks like the haunting ‘Conquering Dub’ take off. King Tubby’s Prophecy of Dub was previously only available on a limited circulation vinyl pressing, and more power to the new labels like Blood and Fire for these reissues.

THE WHO Live at Leeds (Polydor)

MARK REVINGTON

When the Who played Auckland in the 60s, Keith Moon’s drumkit was nailed to the Town Hall floor. Even then, he and Townshend managed to kick bits of it loose for the instrument samshing finale. By the time the band recorded this set at Leeds University in 1970, such shenanigans were (almost) behind them. They were a unit that had established itself as pretty well the most exciting live act on the planet. At 14 minutes-plus, ‘My Generation’ may go on too long for today’s ears, but back then it was cited as proof that Entwhistle and Moon were the premier rhythm section in rock. Their empathy and interplay still sound awesome, as do most of the tracks. Live at Leeds stands as the best hard-rocking live album of its era.

The original vinyl issue contained just six tracks and clocked in at 39 minutes. Here you get 14 tracks totalling 77 minutes. (Though even that's not the full set. They also performed the complete Tommy at an hour and a quarter.) This re-issue could well induce disgraceful behaviour among fans of Townshend’s generation. Practice that full-arm guitar swing, crank up the amp to 11, and drive the household away.

PETER THOMPSON

THE 800 RADLEYS Wake Up! (Creation/Sony)

Lou Reed once sang: ‘My life was saved by rock ’n’ roll,’ and for the 800 Radleys’ Martin Carr, salvation has likewise been provided by guitars and a backbeat. As an alternative to the suburban hell of Wallesey in England’s NorthWest, Carr's rock ’n’ roll fantasies were lived out in all their sprawling, eclectic, psychedelic splendour on 1993’s Giant Steps. Strewn with references to Carr’s own favourite albums. Giant Steps was almost too clever for its own good, but remained streets ahead of the chasing Brit-pack of 93. Carr’s vision for Giant Steps' successor was a pop album with 12 songs. So, rather than wilfully introducing the rogue elements that made Giant Steps such a treat, Carr and band have gone for the big, obvious verse/chorus formula, and in so doing have sold themselves short. Sure, the 800 Radleys’ brilliance means they probably do ‘pop songs’ better than most, but the edge of greatness that permeated Giant Steps is lacking from the album as a whole. The signposts to classic albums past are still there, making comparisons with the likes of the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds obvious, if rather generous. For while the best of Wake Up! does soar to lofty heights, it doesn’t operate in the rarefied air of Pet Sounds and Revolver et al. The glam ’n’ glockenspiel (yes, glockenspiel!) swagger of ‘Find the Answer Within’, the climactic finale of ‘Stuck on Amber’ and the brooding closer ‘Wilder’ are mightily impressive. Yet, equally, there are moments when the psychedelia sounds contrived rather than inspired, and the arrangements overwrought. For all that it has to commend it, Wake Up! ends up sounding strangely shallow in comparison to what has gone before. It’s as if Wake Up! was the sketch-pad for Giant Steps, rather than the other way around. Ultimately Wake Up! hints at more than it can deliver.

VARIOUS ARTISTS Original Motion Picture Soundtrack; Faraway, So Close! (Electrola)

Nick Cave majestically sums up an entire movie within the first lines of this soundtrack. ‘Empty out your pockets / Toss the lot upon the floor / All those treasures, my friend / You don’t need them anymore...’ he sings on the title track, instantly conjuring up visions of the film’s angels. His heavenly (or should that be heaven bound?) ‘Cassiel’s Song' is also present.

Lou Reed’s nightclub spot, ‘Why Can’t I Be Good?’, recalls the film’s coolest cameo. The single version of U2’s ‘Stay (Faraway, So Close!)’ (minus Bono singing the guitar breaks) would have been preferable to the alternate verison here, but the desolation befitting the film remains intact. U2 also contribute ‘The Wanderer’, with lead vocals by Johnny Cash. On the more ethereal side of things, Jane Siberry rejoins the Wenders roll call with the delicate ‘Slow Tango’. Laurie Anderson delivers the highly evocative ‘Tightrope’ and the tender ‘Speak My Language’. The final third of the album consists of Laurent Pettigand’s sublime orchestral score.

It’s a curiously mixed bag. Some of the padding not mentioned above will have you scampering for the CD player’s skip button (German singer Herbert Gronemeyer’s bile inducing ‘Chaos’ in particular). Nevertheless, Cave, Anderson and Pettigand’s contributions are more than enough reason to cherish this album.

SLEEPER Smart (Indolent/BMG)

BRONWYN TRUDGEON

Smart is a bold name for a debut album, for if it’s anything less than that you’re gonna end up with egg all over your face. Luckily Sleeper have a trump card in the sexy, sassy and forthright Louise Wener, whose lyrics are not afraid to send up the prevalent right on-ness and pseudo-liberalism of much of her generation. Louise, it seems, is a woman who enjoys nothing more than a good, hard shag — but on her own terms, mind you. ‘We should both go to bed, till we make each other sore,’ she sings on ‘Delicious’, while ‘Swallow’ contains the charming couplet: ‘There / He comes / She swallows’.

Smart's coup de grace is ‘lnbetweener’ — the sort of opening track which has you reach-

- • c?■ S V ’ * * *»' ing*for the repeat button the moment it finishes. Its audacious brilliance begs another listen — were your ears lying, or was it really that good? The answers are ‘no, they weren’t’ and ‘yes, it is’. ‘lnbetweener’s sublime melodies, urgent guitar lines and the evocative imagery of the lyrics all mesh in three minutes of perfection —which has the unfortunate side-effect of whetting the appetite to a degree the rest of the album has difficulty in sating. After a caviar and Chateau de Rothschild entree like that, boiled potatoes and cordial for the main course tends to stick in your throat. . Actually, that’s rather an unkind analogy, for ‘Twisted’, with its sing-along, bull horn chorus, is only a small notch below ‘lnbetweener’ and there's nary a duff track amongst the remaining 10. Mostly, though, they are solid rather than spectacular, betraying their influences (Pixies in particular) a little too readily. In all, there’s no disguising the fact Smart is a hugely encouraging debut, and a sure fire statement that Sleeper are unlikely to slumber in obscurity for much longer. . ' . -

MARTIN BELL

ROKY ERIKSON All That May Do My Rhyme (Trance Sydicate/Flying In)

There are times when it seems like the legacy of the 60s has been reduced to well moneyed hippy burnouts pumping out bland MOR rock. Then an album like this comes along and everything is well again. Erikson has had his troubles (being tossed in an asylum by the State of Texas doesn't exactly help the rock career) but, despite everything, he’s remained a powerful songwriter and an evocative performer. Roky is backed by some local Austin types here, including Charlie Sexton, and although this album was recorded in bits and pieces over a nine year period, they sound just fine. The voice is a little creaky and fragile at times, but fundamentally the songs are so damn good it doesn’t matter, and when Roky’s pipes do what they should, the album just soars.

There’s a folky feel to this, with flashes of the old Thirteenth Floor Elevators vibe turning up and keeping things from the straight and narrow. Considering how small and poorly represented Erikson’s musical output has been over the last decade, All That May Do My Rhyme becomes not only a very fine album, but a pretty essential document of a great mans work.

KIRK GEE