albums

Rip It Up, Issue 215, 1 July 1995, Page 29

albums

I BJORK Post (Mother Records)

Post is Bjork’s follow-up to the Debut that actually wasn’t a debut, but proved to be a lot of other wonderful things for a lot of listeners. It sees her trip back into the spotlight, with her unusual phrasing, transcription defying accent and vocal acrobatics giddily in tow. Nellee Hooper has returned to her side, as one of the co-producers/co-writers on a super-charged call sheet.

From the big band reworking of ‘lt’s Oh So Quiet’ (the album’s only cover, co-produced by 808 State’s Graham Massey), the beseeching ambience of ‘Possibly Maybe’, and the soaring strings of ‘lsobel’, to the pumped-up trance of ‘Hyperballad’, Latin-like techno of ‘I Miss You’ (co-written and co-produced by Howie Bernstein), and the goading industrial sounds of ‘Enjoy’ (co-written and co-produced by Tricky), this is an intoxicating and highly addictive journey to the heart of its creator and the talents of her collaborators.

With no thought to thematic rhyme or reason, every song seems to be here simply because it feels like it. This makes Post an endearingly personal portrait. It doubles as an anytime salve for the senses, and the perfect wind up or down for a night under the lights. BRONWYN TRUDGEON

BAILTERSPACE Wammo (Flying Nun)

You know things are going to be different the moment you see the cover artwork. Gone are the blurred monochromatic images, with their rigid character fonts, to be replaced with the legs of a man about to putt a golf ball and lettering done with a twink pen. It’s simply a reaction to the cartoon version they became of themselves on their last album Vortura. From the album title to song titles like ‘Galaxy’, ‘Reactor’ and ‘Shadow’. Cyber-what-ever. They’d played that field. Now they’re ‘Splat’, ‘Wammo’ and ‘Zapped’, but it’s really just a make-over, not actual cosmetic surgery. They still sound the same, still the mix of pop songs right up against punky industrial songs. But this time Bailterspace are unplugged — not from their amps, but from their effects pedals. At first this seems to defeat the whole raison d’etre of Bailterspace, but the more you listen the murkier things get. After endless listens, you’re still no closer to understanding Bailterspace. The album opens with the beautiful ‘Untied’, that could be straight off Vortura. The single ‘Splat’ follows, with its unoriginal video, but great refrain. ‘At Five We Drive’ is part of their noisier side, which stripped back sounds much more punkier than anything they’ve ever done before. ‘Zapped’ is a perfect example of the two styles of Bailterspace, starting with a lovely pop chorus and it’s lack of bluriness bringing back memories of their Kilgour era, and then the song turns into a noisy chant of ‘I don’t wanna get zapped’. ‘Voltage’ is the only song that sounds out of place, recorded ‘in context’ (?), it sounds like a live jam, and while not a terrible song, should be tucked away as a Bside someplace else. Bailterspace are New Zealand’s only ‘album-per-year’ band and this year’s Wammo punch will only enhance their reputation for gorgeous and barbed pop monuments. DARREN HAWKES

JAN HELLRIEGEL Tremble (Warner)

It’s been three years since the release of Jan Hellriegel’s debut album, It's My Sin. Since then, Jan has relocated waaay out West (Melbourne in fact), opting for a new career in a new town. Tremble, then, is something of a rebirth, as well as being a fresh start for an artist who has been out of the New Zealand

public eye for some time. With the benefit of hindsight, only three songs linger on from Jan’s debut effort: ‘The Way I Feel’, ‘No Idea’ and the title track itself. Too many of the rest were guilty of cluttered and fussy arrangements that robbed the songs of their tension and drama, ultimately diffusing the album’s focus.

Tremble suffers no such problem. While the actual song writing marks no great leap forward, Tremble shows It's My Sin a clean pair of heels in other areas. Hellriegel has a dramatic, emotive voice, and this time round the songs serve to accentuate, rather than obscure this trait. Opening track ‘Sneer’ and single ‘Manic (Is A State Of Mind)’ are both charged with high drama and menace, while elsewhere Hellriegel shows the confidence .to let the songs breathe and allow other qualities to shine through. The cinematic sweep of ‘Touch Greenstone’ and the gentler airs of ‘Thinking’ are equally convincing, as are a couple of killer pop songs in ‘Pure Pleasure’, which rocks out on the album’s catchiest chorus, and the glorious closing track ‘lt’s Not Me’. In the past Jan Hellriegel has perhaps sounded like a woman bursting to get her muse out, without ever quite discovering how. Tremble is the sound of that discovery being made. MARTIN BELL

MICHAEL JACKSON History Book One (Sony)

At age 11, pictures and posters of Michael Jackson were the wallpaper in my bedroom. Even the ceiling was plastered with the then 23

year old genius, who cast a captivating spell with his ability to move like both liquid and a machine. Never did I think this once fiercely self-styled individual would become nothing more than a ‘product’ of his own creation. Enter History Book One. History is a two CD package — one disc holds 15 remastered number one singles, the second, 15 new Jackson tracks — and comes accompanied by a worldwide marketing campaign of outrageous proportions, designed to lift him to an almost frightening level of super-

stardom. The flaw in this plan is that Jackson continues his slide off the musical rails that began with 1993's Dangerous album. On a lyrical level, much of History deals with the molestation charges that dogged Jackson’s personal life in recent years. While his words are undeniably heartfelt, any emotional investment doesn’t extend to the accompanying music. Aside from the funky first single, ‘Scream’, studio wizardry has rendered the majority of songs — a uniform mixture of dance tracks and ballads — lifeless and. lacking in warmth. With Jackson at the controls, or co-pro-ducing on all but two compositions, he can’t pass the buck. If this were under any other name, it would be classed as formula 90s dance fodder. The choice of tracks compiled on disc one calls his judgement into further doubt. The inclusion of Air Supply-like MOR such as 'Heal the World’, ‘Remember the Time’ and ‘I Just Can’t Stop Loving You', alongside classic Jackson funk (‘Billie Jean', ‘Wanna Be Startin' Somethin”, ‘Man in the Mirror’, ‘Rock With You’, ‘Beat It’) defies explanation — and where the hell is ‘Jam’?

‘Don’t believe the hype’ has never been more applicable. If you currently own Off The Wall, Thriller and Bad, be completely happy with your lot. JOHN RUSSELL

PINK FLOYD Pulse (Columbia)

Johnny Rotten and company may have bravely fought the punk wars against the likes of Pink Floyd all those years ago, but it didn’t affect them one flying pig. Here they are back again, with another double live album, despite having lost Roger Waters along the way. They’ve only released The Division Bell since the last double live, and the next studio album probably won’t come out til next century, so this is a good way to stop bootleggers from stealing their thunder (and pot loads of cash). The sound is in superb analogue, with tracks culled from various performances on the 1994 tour, while the 145 minute companion video is taken from a complete concert at Earls Court. (Hopefully New Zealand will get the same show next year.) All the best material from Wish You

Were Here and The Wall are included, along with the more recent stuff, but the highlight has to be the new rendition of ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ in it’s entirety. Gilmour considers this to be the definitive version, though Waters is noticably missed in places. (Rog will have his roy-

alties rolling in, so he won’t be complaining.) ‘The Great Gig in the Sky’ isn’t quite as great, but overall it’s an impressive replay of the original masterwork, with only slight variations here and there.

In typically monumental Pink Floyd style, the band rented out the Empire State Building to promote Pulse with a laser display of unprecedented scale. The CD package itself has the expected deluxe colour booklet, and the limited edition also has a light embedded in the cover which flashes continuously for about six months (the batteries can be replaced for eternal pulsation if desired). You’d have to buy 10 copies to get a really good hertbeat effect, but what a gimmick for the collectors! It’s most likely that right now Pink Floyd fans the world over are listening to this with headphones on and lights out. GEOFF DUNN

BAD BRAINS God of Love (Maverick)

Good old Bad Brains. Good Old HR. After the misfortune of the last Bad Brains album, the lads are truly back on the right tracks with the mighty God Of Love. Rejoining the fold is the shaggy lost sheep HR, returning Bad Brains to their rightful status as the kings of hardcore/reggae dubbiness, not that there are probably a lot of contenders. God of Love sees the Brains returning to the smoother laid back sounds of / against I, steering clear of the full on punk rock of Rock for Light, or the total and utter heaviness of Quickness. But don’t worry — despite the fact there’s about as much punk rock in this opus as in Offspring, there’s still plenty of good heavy grooves. ‘Dr Know’ has heaps of simple, yet effective riffs for HR to croon over, all the while backed by the wicked rhythms of Earl and Daryll. On one track Bad Brains even try updating their style by throwing in a little ragged ragga. I love this little beauty and I’m sure you and you will also. Lastly, good old Madonna (Maverick’s her baby). KEVIN LIST

THE FALL Cerebral Caustic (Permanent)

ELVIS COSTELLO Kojak Variety (Warner)

PAUL WELLER Stanley Road (Go! Discs)

An unholy trinity, who’ve largely managed to avoid rock ’n’ roll redundancy by shrewdly reiventing themselves, kicks off with Manchester’s Mark-E Smith.

Worried the last couple of Fall albums were getting too techno, Smith has led the Fall back to the garage, in an attempt to recapture the band’s early primitive edge. It doesn’t work. ‘The Joke’ is a promising start, with its typically lurching Fall guitar line and Smith’s Northern drawl, and ‘Feeling Numb’, ‘The Aphid’ and ‘Bonkers in Phoenix’ all have ideas and touches of imagination that just lift them above the flat, plain production. Elsewhere, Smith’s songs sound half baked, incomplete, frayed byproducts of an album poorly conceived and too hastily assembled in the studio. There’s little of the old Fall chemistry here. With a major return to form behind him in the shape of last year’s Brutal Youth, Costello now

appears with his often threatened batch of obscure covers, Kojak Variety. It’s an excellent collection of mainly hidden gems: songs that are not only Costello favourites, but have been obvious influences on his development as a singer and writer in the variety of genres he’s tackled over the years. Whatever he’s unearthed here in his travels as a fan also suits his interpretive style: right from the Supremes’ to Little Richard’s staple rockin’ ‘Barna Lama Barna Loo’.. He also turns the spotlight on lesser known artists whose careers and songs deserve. some overdue recognition. Mose Allison’s ‘Everybody’s Cring Mercy’, an R&B reading of the Louvin Brothers’ ‘Must You Throw Dirt in My Face?’, and Little Willie John’s ‘Leave My Kitten Alone’ are handled with the intuitive care and respect Costello has for fine songs. Kojak Variety is one of the best of its kind, a covers album where the artist is ideally suited to breathe life into neglected, little known classics. Paul Weller is long over the lack of self confidence that struck him in the declining period of the Style Council and his subsequent early solo career. Now on his third solo studio album, Weller has settled into playing his own unaffected raw combination of rock, soul and

R&B. With no punk or sidewalk soul manifestos to live up to, he’s concentrated on getting his music as honest and direct as possible, resulting in Stanley Road being recorded ‘live’ in the studio over only eight weeks.

Named after the street where he was born and raised in Woking, the album loses no time in mapping out Weller’s R&B renaissance, as he tears into Dr John’s ‘I Walk on Gilded Splinters’. Vocally, he’s continuing to mature, as there’s a soul/gospel depth to his singing on the likes of ‘You Do Something to Me’ and ‘Broken Stones’ that’s a step up from his previous solo albums. On ‘Out of the Sinking’ and ‘Whirlpool’s End’, there’s a fire and passion in his playing that indicates Weller is definitely right into a convincing recovery of form. GEORGE KAY

THE BEASTIE BOYS Root Down EP (Capitol)

So, why is this being reviewed in the albums column? Because it’s got a live mini-album happening within its B-boy bowels. Not only do you get one of the best tracks off 111 Communication in its Prince Paul mix and a spacey re-mix by The Prunes (who take it to another dimension), but seven live tracks taken from their European tour. There’s old school

Beastie Boys

Beasties in ‘Time to get lII’, the punk bashes of ‘Heart Attack Man’ and ‘Time for Livin’’, funky instrumentals like ‘Sambrosa’, and their trippy floater, ‘Something's Got to Give’. Brilliant remixes and a taste of what makes their gigs frenzied and memorable, all for the price of an EP. Buy, buy, buy, before the retailers put the price up! JOHN TAITE

BABES IN TOYLAND Nemesisters (Reprise)

Three of rock’s kickin’est bitches return with a diverse and sometimes surprising album that’s guaranteed to bite you once, then again, before you get the chance to bite it back. Nemesisters certainly is a harsh and dirty beast, and you may well hesitate before climbing on board; but give it the chance to deliver its growingly satisfying kicks, and you’ll soon find it driving you just as capably as its predecessors do.

It’s only fair to warn you of the surprises. Three almost unbelievable covers close Nemesisters. The first is a comicly morose (or gratingly heartfelt, depending on your mood) rendering of Derek Corman’s ‘All By Myself’ (betcha forgot that one ever breathed life into the airwaves!). The second is Lori Barbero’s a cappella take on Billie Holliday’s ‘Deep Song’. The third, hold your breath, is a piano-and-all version of Sister Sledge’s ‘We Are Family’ — and who better to sing it for the new breed of sisters than these Babes? So, the sountrack’s arrived. Lock up your boyfriends, girls. It’s time to play up again! BRONWYN TRUDGEON

THE COMMODORES The Best Of the Commodores (Motown)

Short of an exhaustive boxed set release, this 39-track, two CD Commodores Best Of is the ultimate ‘hits’ package. In chronological order, it traces the history of the six-piece funk/soul band from Tuskegee, Alabama, from Machine Gun, their first album for Motown, released in 1973, up until 1986’s United, by which time the band had left the label and three original members behind. Musically, the Commodores had split personalities. The best tracks on this compilation are drawn from their funk side. ‘Young Girls Are My Weakness’, ‘Slippery When Wet’, ‘Fancy Dancer’, ‘Too Hot Too Trot’, ‘Old-Fashion Love’, ‘Lady (You Bring Me Up)’, and of course ‘Brickhouse’ are all essential gifts from funk heaven. Their other face displayed the wholesome, bordering on MOR, ballads — 'Three Times A Lady’, ‘Still’, ‘Just To Be Close To You’ — penned by Lionel Ritchie. These are an acquired taste. With half the band “wanting to be as black as we could be”, and the remainder pushing for crossover success in the US charts, it made for a wide variation in the Commodores’ sound. They had no trademarks, and that’s what makes them unique. It was Ritchie’s desire to break through to a white audience that prompted his departure in 81. Although many thought this would be the end of the Commodores’ phenomenal worldwide success, they hit back with the awesome Number 1 soul single ‘Nightshift’ in 1984. It’s difficult to do 'best of’ compilations jus-

tice within the confines of a 200 word review. This is especially so in the. case of the Commodores, because what they’re offering is nothing short of black gold. JOHN RUSSELL

CHRIS ISAAK Forever Blue (Reprise)

By his third album, Heart Shaped World, Chris Isaak had refined his sound to a perfect blend of aching voice, classic sounds and remarkable sparse and eerie guitar, playing great ; sad songs — the most famous of which was, of course, ‘Wicked Game’. The next album, San Francisco Days, applied similar ingredients to a collection of fine pop songs, and the result was a gem of a pop record. Forever Blue retains the fuller, swinging sound of the previous albums, but plays a collection of songs unified by a running theme of sadness and loss. I read Isaak saying in an interview that all these songs are about breaking up with one specific girl, and that knowledge initially cast something of a creepy shadow over the album, particularly with the accusatory tone of the opening ‘Baby Did a Bad Thing’. But the album displays the wide range of feelings that follow the break up of a relationship — anger, sadness, reminiscence, panic, contemplation of what went wrong, dealing with seeing the person again, hope that things could be rekindled, then the sad realisation that it really is all over — all in the progression of experiencing these feelings. Nevertheless, this isn’t a miserable listening experience. The tracks vary in sound from bouncy pop songs, to aching torch songs and the dark, sparse, tremolo guitar-moulded vignettes that made Heart Shaped World my favourite Chris Isaak album.

Lyrically, this is the most unified of his five albums — a remarkable journey of loss, sadness, grieving and resolution. The last song is the sad and final ‘End of Everything’, but it finishes with a quiet chirping of birds: the sun will come out, a new day, there is hope after all. JONATHAN KING

LETTERS TO CLEO Aurora Gory Alice (Liberation)

THE MUFFS Blonder and Blonder (Reprise)

Letters to Cleo are everything Juliana Hatfield’s solo career should’ve been; a sexy female vocal with more guts in the backing

band. Kay Hanley fronts this Boston four-piece (or five-piece, if you count the guy who ‘drives the van and drinks beer’, in the liner notes). They’re very much of the Lemonheads/Hatfield Boston ilk. You know, the pinch of country to the guitar, the quirk to the lyrics, the very American feel to the pop. ‘Here and Now’ is the single you’ll know them for, with that blah-dy blah, tongue twisting chorus that spits out: ‘The comfort of a knowledge of a rise above the sky could never parallel the challenge of an acquisition in the here and now,’ in just under five seconds. Scrappy pop, polite ballads (‘Get On With It’ and ‘From Under the Dust) and a band name that refers to a pen-pal. That says it all. Just like saying: ‘The Muffs come from LA,’ tells you plenty. This is the second album from this white trash trio. They do punk pop in that homogenised Green Day kind of way (‘Agony’ and ‘Oh Nina') — not too surprising, as Blonder’s producer was also behind Dookie. They do rock ’n’ roll in a Crampsey, Ramonesy kind of way (‘Red Eyed Troll' and ‘Laying on a Bed of Roses’). Vocalist Kim Shattuck looks and sounds like Courtney Love’s long lost sister, brandishing about guttaral screams to punctuate the songs. Not overly inspiring, but there for convenience. Kind of like, urn, a Big Mac.

JOHN TAITE

PIZZICATO FIVE Made in USA (Matador)

The International Pizzicato Five Year 1994, the album sub-title states in a bold but belated attempt at self-fulfilling prophecy. Oh well, perhaps someone forgot to alert the media, or maybe it’s just a typical example of the speed at which news filters down to this corner of the globe. Now available locally, this compilation of tracks originally recorded for release in the band’s native Japan, has been gathered together by hip American indie-label Matador and released as Made in USA. Good title that, because although Pizzicato Five hail from the Far East, Made in USA contains enough Western pop culture references to fill a suburban shopping mall. For instance, the intriguingly titled ‘Twiggy Twiggy/Twiggy vs. James Bond’ blends Ventures and Burt Bacharach samples with a hip-hop back beat and helium-fuelled vocals. The results sound like a Japanese Quentin Tarantino movie soundtrack. And that’s just one song — elsewhere the band plunder soul and jazz to surprisingly good effect. Do they get away with it? Mostly, yes. Why? Because they are kooky and cute — a latter day Dee-lite, with that same ability to put a smile on your face and a groove in your heart. Quite simply, Made in USA is good, clean, inanely joyous fluff. It’s full of the sort of irreverent fun you occasionally need to flush all the gloom out of your system. I dare you not to be humming ‘Magic Carpet Ride’, ‘Baby Love Child’, or ‘Peace Music’ after just one listen. By

the same token, too much Pizzicato Five is like biting into an Easter egg — sweet on the outside but hollow on the inside. Maybe they do have this pop culture thing sussed after all. MARTIN BELL

STONE ROSES The Complete Stone Roses (Silvertone Records)

Speak for your bloody self, John Harris. I, for one, was well out of trainer pants for the first coming of the Stone Roses. Yet, contrary to your touching liner notes, I have not yet died enough to consider myself 'grown up’. Nor do I have houses, or children. It might pay you to remember that some Stone Roses fans are still nimble enough (of mind, body or otherwise) to enjoy the band’s Second Coming as boisterously as we did their first. So, to the disc. I have to admit, it smacks of the dastardly cash-in, righteous groupies. If you’re looking for the lost recordings of the Stone Roses’ lenghty hiatus, this ain’t them. What it is (once you get past the cringe inducing early forays of ‘So Young’ and ‘Tell Me’, and the unnecessary backwards spinning of ‘Elephant Stone’ that is ‘Full Fathom Five’), is a collected package of brilliant tracks, singles and B-sides from off of and around the era of the Stone Roses’ mighty debut album, The Stone Roses. See, even cash-ins can have their benefits.

It’s still the primest tracks from The Stone Roses which stand head and shoulders above the rest, namely: ‘Made of Stone’, ‘She Bangs the Drums’, and the ultimate messiah-complex teen anthems ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ and ‘I Am

the Resurrection’. Cor, it makes me come over all superior and nostalgic just thinking about it — but still not grown up, not while there’s breath in me anyway. BRONWYN TRUDGEON

MAD PROFESSOR It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad Professor (Ariwa/Chant)

A wicked collection from Neil Fraser, aka the mad Professor — that prolific explorer of reggae airwaves — It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad Professor spans almost 15 years of pushing the boundaries of dub under the Ariwa label. According to the liner notes: ‘Ariwa is the Yoruba word for communication.’ A legend of the mixing desk, the Mad Professor followed on from originators like King Tubby. Most of Mad World stems from the Professor’s work in the 80s, and his passion for new sounds is clear — from the experiments with classical music samples of 1982's ‘Beyond the Realms of Dub’, to the chanting Rasta sounds and tribal trance drumming on 1984’s ‘The Heart of the Jungle’, or the keyboard melody of ‘Medusa’s Head’, which sounds like it was flogged from a 70s European spy movie.

Strange echoes and curious samples litter the beats, and the Professor is a man with an ear for space. Essential listening for anyone wanting to catch up on the sounds of one of dub’s mainmen echoing down the years. MARK REVINGTON

WHITE ZOMBIE Astro Creep 2000 (Geffen)

White Zombie are back to scare grandmas everywhere. Well, they don’t scare me with their weird clothes and silly hats. Like those other deviants in Ministry, White Zombie think it’s cool to mock the ‘Lord’. The second track reminds one of ‘Jesus Stole My Sparkplugs’ (You’re a liar Mr Haynes, our saviour’s never been near your stinky garage), except it’s heaps better and funkier, until you begin to work out just what Rob Z’s singing about: ‘Jesus lived his life in a cheap hotel on the edge of Route 66.’ Not only is this sacra-bloody-ligeous, it’s untrue — Jesus lives in my heart. Vying for grooviest tune with ‘Super Charger Heaven’ is the single ‘More Human Than Human’.

Although a goodly amount of the album is bogged down with repetitive guitar riffs and sampling, Astro Creep 2000 certainly has plen-

ty of groove in its heart. However, when your heart’s filled with black sunshine, does it matter? Cliff has no groove, but he’s lovely and got to meet the Queen. You’ll be looking till Doom’s Day to find Sir Rob Zombie. I rest my case. KEVIN LIST

PRIMUS Tales From the Punchbowl (Warner)

In a world populated by bands falling over each other to be ‘alternative’, influenced by 70s punks, Primus’ Tales From the Punchbowl revels in the progressive/funk of Rush and Stanley Clarke. Built around Les Claypool’s bass guitar, Primus works a monster riff, supported by guitar, drums and Claypool’s nearly unintelligible vocals buried in the mix. The lyrics reveal a world populated by freaks, geeks and losers. Typical is the poor schmuck in ‘Glass Sandwich’, queued up at a peep show. He plunks down his hard earned dough to find the object of his lust is his former lover. Standout tracks include ‘Wynona’s Big Brown Beaver’, where Claypool chews through lyrics with gleeful abandon, and ‘De Anza Jig’, a mutant country hoe-down, complete with banjo and Texas drawl. The only misstep is ‘Year of the Parrot', knocking bands who borrow from Led Zeppelin and Van Morrison, which comes off a bit holier than thou. San Francisco natives, Primus have soaked up the musical heritage of the area with the ghost of Frank Zappa looming large. MARTY DUDA

KIM SALMON AND THE SURREALISTS Kim Salmon and the Surrealists (Polydor)

THE CRUEL SEA Three Legged Dog (Polydor)

Two Australian Red Eye bands that approach rock ’n’ roll from different blues angles. Kim Salmon’s three-piece arrives courtesy of John Lee Hooker and a self confessed debt to the Rolling Stones, while the exaggerated drama of his songs owes more than a passing nod to Nick Cave. Past bands like the Scientists and the Beasts of Bourbon have defined Salmon’s growling guitar style, and with the Surrealists he’s also reaching for desolation and danger. On tracks like ‘What’s Inside Your Box?’ and a cover of Chilton’s ‘Holocaust’, the songs are strong enough to carry Salmon’s fears and loathing, but too often they crack under the bur-

den of his self conscious need for melodrama. Passable. The Cruel Sea are much more modest in their recycled blues ambitions. Their hang-dog, bayou rootsiness is like dragging your head through a swamp of sludgy grooves, dirty vocals, booming basslines and down home slide geetars. Hardly indigenously Australian, but they’re onto a winning formula that they refine/define even more closely on Three Legged Dog than on the previous The Honeymoon is Over. Wading into the everglades, and the best on offer has to be the singles 'Anybody But You’ and the huge, grumbling 'Better Get a Lawyer’, and the shimmering ‘Too Late to Turn Back’ — high points from an album that’s a seamless unity of 15 shots of New Orleans R&B. It’s hard to believe the’ll improve on this formula — time for a change from catfish pie? GEORGE KAY

CROWBAR Time Heals Nothing (Pavement)

Fatty alert: the heaviest boys of heavy rock return after too short an absence with another heavy album. Time Heals Nothing is not like the last heavy album because this time the Crowbarites wanna make loadsa dosh. Last time Crowbar gave you dull, mind numbingly heavy and plodding tunes. This time the formula is repeated, but with a ballad and more

singing. For all those fans of incomprehensible, grunted lyrics: prepare to feel cheated, ‘cause this time you get to hear almost all the words, and that’s not a smart move. Throughout Time Heals Nothing, tears are wiped away, minds

are enslaved and bodies perpetually suffer. Where do these behemoths of boredom get their nutty ideas from? Could they have been borrowed from their fellow gloomy tour buddies, Paradise Lost, inspired by the look of the fans in the mosh pit, or is it all just bad memories from kindy regurgitated? Only the aching milleniums of Time's twisted pain can answer this question. Until then, my lips are sealed. KEVIN LIST

MONSTER MAGNET Dopes to Infinity (A&M)

Although there’s nothing better than rock music that's familiar with the recreational use of prescription medicines, I never quite clicked with Monster Magnet until this very fine album. Best I can tell, that’s because they’ve lost the overly dense, hard-and-fucked up thing, and stuck with their simple greaser ambitions. The result is a big warm sound (love that AAD recording) on big, bad songs. The guitars are huge, with all manner of effects and strangeness, and the songs are just plain good. Some, like ‘Ego, the Living Planet’ or ‘Third Alternative’, are deranged and druggy, while a few, like the title track and, most obviously, ‘Negasonic Teenage Warhead', are outright hard rock hit songs. All of them have a good balance of hook and hard, and Monster Magnet don’t resort to alternative posturing or cheap theatrics, like 99 percent of today’s ‘heavy metal’ bands. They do, however, write couplets like: ‘The mountain screamed three times today / I guess it thought I'd like to play,’ but I think that just suggests they have access to some strong Vicodan. It’s good to see such resolutely bad-ass rock rearing it’s

head again, and until I see the new stuff from Kyuss and AC/DC, Dopes to Infinity is going to be heard often. KIRK GEE

BLACK SABBATH Forbidden (IRS)

If anything should be forbidden it is Tony lommi from making more Black Sabbath albums. However, it seems he will never say die, so it's best to remember Sabbath by those original heavy master (of reality) pieces of yesteryear.

lommi still has that natural penchant for mean guitar riffery, but mostly it’s just retreads of old tunes with the occasional good lead break. Current bandmates Powell, Murray and Martin offer little in the creative way, and the end result has enough cliches to fill a cript for a Spinal Tap mini series. ‘lllusion of Power' has guest vocals from Ice T. His fellow Bodycounter guitarist Ernie C is responsible for the basic production, but the intended raw 90s sound merely emphasises the slap-dash feel of the songs. The band can probably cut it pretty well live, but it’s more fun to look at the detailed cartoon cover of Forbidden than it is to listen to it. GEOFF DUNN

CLOUDBOY Cloudboy (Infinite Regress)

Demarnia Lloyd from Dunedin band Mink is the singer/songwriter for Cloudboy. Most of Cloudboy also performed on Mink’s debut album. Mink's strength lay in the number of styles they covered, with various people taking lead on vocals. With this album, it’s like a longer, deeper look at the type of Mink songs Lloyd sang. They tend to be string intensive, with the rhythm section keeping a basic beat and Demarnia melancholically whispering her words with a very sweet, clean melody. This lack of variety is the album’s downfall. Lloyd's voice becomes cloying and, at times, too cutesy. The small breadth of the album would have been more suited to an EP, rather than being stretched to eight tracks that total just over 30 minutes.

The best tracks are the eerie, sparse ‘Pine’, sounding musically like Bjork, and ‘Nicknames of Devils (Rose 3)', which is the older, more sophisticated sibling of Mink’s ‘Rubber Saxophone’, with it's weird instrumentation and Lloyd singing a list of things that ‘Nobody

knows...’ The Infinite Regress collective seem to be doing something that nobody else is doing — specialists in super clean production, with lush orchestration and a twisted take on grandiose pop. It's just in this case time Cloudboy should have extended themselves further. DARREN HAWKES

STEVE VAI Alien Love Secrets (Relativity)

The fourth solo release by this extraordinary guitarist is a mini album that returns to the instrumental style which he peaked with on Passion and Warfare. These seven new tracks are composed, produced and performed solely by Vai (except for drums in a couple of places) and, naturally enough, there is extreme emphasis on guitar. ‘Bad Horsie’ kicks things off, with a wicked riff interspersed with Steve creating horse whinnies on his custom Ibanez Jem, to great effect. The most outstanding piece, ‘Die to Live', shows Steve has reached an even higher level of musicianship, while ‘Juice’ is a more straight ahead, rockin’ boogie. Respects are paid to the lord of the strings, Jimi Hendrix, on ‘The Boy From Seattle’, as it’s played with the gentle feel of something like ‘Castles Made of Sand'. Steve’s son (aged five) improvised the lyrics for ‘Ya-Yo Gakk’, though it’s obviously only included as a bit of novelty recording fun. Following that, the frantic ‘Kill the Guy With the Ball’ segues into the weird ‘God Eaters’, and the album finishes beautifully with the aptly titled ‘Tender Surrender'.

Alien Love Secrets has a running time of 34 minutes, which is about the same as LPs used to be, so it's good value at around S2O. Recommended for anyone with an interest in Vai, virtuosity, vibrato and Venusians. GEOFF DUNN

DUB WAR Pain (Flying In)

CHAVEZ Gone Glimmering (Matador)

I hate comparing bands to other bands, but how are you going to envisage Dub War, a very metal, ragga rap beast, without mentioning Ministry, Fishbone and PWEI? Then maybe Ruthless Rap Assasins (RIP) and Rage Against The Machine? They don’t sound like any of these bands, of course, there are just familiar elements: the raging guitars, the furious toast-

ing, the crusty dance beats and electronic enhancements, that Jourgensen-like sense of terror. Dub War are mosh pit maestros. The beats bounce you, the riffs make your teeth clench, and the vocals growl and sneer enough for your angriest moments. Ignore the fact they come from Wales. Chavez are an unknown New York band that few people know anything about. Even their light record company biography could only muster some trivia about how they used to be in some other equally unknown bands. Their sound is guitar noir from Gotham. The opening track, ‘Nailed to the Blank Spot’, sets that up pretty damn quick — innocent vocal melodies, smothered by guitar screams and bash-them-to-bits drumming. A couple of songs suggest they’ve been to more than a few Bailter Space gigs in their home town (listen to ‘The Ghost By The Sea’). Then songs like ‘Flaming Gong’ sound like they’re an evil Smashing Pumpkins twin — a darker, nastier version that won’t sell as many records. Sonic spawn from Kim and Thurston. Very New York. Clumsily elegant.

PETER DROGE Necktie Second (American)

JOHN TAITE

Droge is no slouch. Right from his blonde haircut, slightly nasal drawl, and easy rockin’ style on six and 12 string, he’s a dead ringer for Tom Petty. Necktie Second is the ideal title for Droge’s laid back, ambling ballads. They’re all fleshed out by fine tones, with traditional titles like ‘Northern Bound Train’ and ‘Fourth of July’, and even more traditional sentiments like ‘Faith In You’. Originality sure don’t figure, but Droge is on the right train. GEORGE KAY

EARTHLING Radar (Cooltempo)

There I was, harshing it out in front of the TV, on a Sunday as regular as they get around these parts. Out of the blue, a smooth rap filled my ears: ‘I know who I am / I’m not who you think I am...’ I turned on my visuals — name: Earthling; title: ‘First Transmission’; picture: a lazy-eyed rapper making his case to a ring of homo sapiens. I pinched myself and made a quick check for tracking devices. Everything seemed to be in order, except for the TV, which was spieling the debut single equivalent of Robert Altman’s The Player (due to the spectacular cast the lyrics have drawn together). I had to find the transmitter. Logically enough, a Radar was the cause. There were plenty more cast lists to be found: everyone from Joan of Arc to Harvey Keitel

turns up here. The aforementioned rapper is Mau, and his musical partner is T Saul. Additional vocalists are the velvet voiced Moni, and the truly shimmering Segun. Together they’ve created an album sure to get Bristol heads hopping. Although Radar draws definite parallels with the Holy Trinity (and Portishead’s Geoff Barrow lends a hand here), the songs tend to pivot more centrally on their lyrical content and drawn out musical quirks (you know, for fun). I don’t mind telling you how relieved I was to be actually holding this groovy debut in my hands, if only to prove my strange experience had not been a figment of my imagination. There are enough weird things happening in this bad old world, without my mind heading for the Euphoric Zone without me.

HORACE ANDY Life is for Living (Ariwa)

HORACE ANDY In The Light (Blood and Fire/Chant)

BRONWYN TRUDGEON

Horace Andy is one of reggae's greatest voices — no contest. Like the deeper tones of Burning Spear or the memorable Bob Marley, Horace Andy’s voice is unforgettable. His amazing tenor can carry emotion in a whisper or spit out conscious lyrics with a passionate edge. Produced by the Mad Professor and released this year, Life is for Living proves Horace Andy hasn’t lost any creativity. Life is for Living borrows a little from dancehall, a little from lovers’ rock, and again covers a large chunk of Rastafarian consciousness. A flute swirls around the rhythm as the Professor dubs in a little space on the title track and ‘What a Day’ — ‘What a victory it will be / When all Africans are free’ — as soft horns echo the vocals. Stand out tracks are ‘Nah Dis You’, ‘Rebel’ and ‘Armageddon’. On ‘Nah Dis You’, a drawn out chorus and two-tone horn phrasing help Horace weave a magic spell. Straight into ‘Never Deceive You’, and he’s still on the same subject — undying love — but it’s a little more up beat and lacks a memorable hook. ‘Rebel’ is a call for people’s rights and a warning to beware the suits. ‘Jacket and tie always come round / With a smiling face and a lying tongue / Promise to turn your life around.’ Sounds like Horace has been watching kiwi politics; this is a modern version of the Gladiators’ militant trip. ‘Armageddon’ has a wicked bassline that pulls you into a whirlpool of righteousness — Rasta believers marching on Babylon. Recorded in Kingston, Jamaica, in 1977, In the Light and its companion dub set, mixed by Prince Jammy, are propelled by rock steady rhythms and tasty accompaniment from the all star cast of backing musicians, including Augustus Pablo, Leroy Sibbles and Horsemouth Wallace, and a filthy horn section with names like Tommy McCook and Don D Junior.

‘Government Land’ would make a perfect anthem for the Maori sovereignty movement, with its call to ‘give up Jah land, government man’. ‘Do You Love My Music’ and ‘Hey There Woman’ are catch cries for reggae, while ‘lf I’ is simply brilliant. Horace Andy’s songs are simple — it’s the voice, delivery, and sharp backing that lift them into another league. Wicked stuff.

Those who saw Horace Andy with Massive Attack will have seen one of the best reggae vocalists around, unfortunately in an all too brief appearance. The rest of you poor sods will have to buy these two albums. Once on the CD platter, it’s hard to take them off again.

MARK REVINGTON

KINGMAKER In the Best Possible Taste (Chrysalis)

Kingmaker were originally one of those bands that in the early 90s continuously toured the UK in a van, while making their money from a cute line in T-Shirts. Just before the release of their previous album, they transformed themselves into smartly dressed men with nice quiffs. The cover of Best Possible Taste features main man Loz Hardy with a quiff and a gold lame top. Still, the music has never really developed beyond it’s influences. In and out slip The The, the Wonderstuff, Suede and even Metallica. You can hear the band straining for greatness — the attempt at anthemic songs, the clever lyrics and Loz singing (for) his life — but, like Jesus Jones, Kingmaker’s weakness is in fact Loz’s very singing, his nasal intonation with the high notes just round the bend. While genius may steal, Loz’s style is a secondrate version of those he has ripped off. Loz’s words are where he catches up on his mentors. While sometimes he overworks a pun (something Suede, The The and Morrissey have all been guilty of), there are some real bon mots, like: ‘Work, work, work / It’s no way to make a living.’ Kingmaker try so hard to catch our attention with their ‘hey, look at me’ attitude, but nobody’s interested. Nothing will stop them trying, but if they want to be famous, and they obviously do, they’re going to have to reinvent themselves once more. DARREN HAWKES

THE CAULFIELDS Whirligig (A&M)

DISHWALLA Pet Your Friends (A&M)

‘l’m stage-diving off the church of the holier than thou, and I’m bigger than Jesus now.’ Taking their name from the main character in JD Salinger’s ‘The Catcher in the Rye’, the Caulfields’ debut is the platform singer/guitarist John Faye has chosen to get a few things off his chest. The above lyric is from the opening ‘Devil’s Diary’, and the mental picture is of

Joe Jackson fronting the Attractions to a 1:3 beat. Relating the story of a young man’s struggle for self respect and his disillusionment with organised religion, it is typical of the album. Using their hometown of Newark for inspiration, they have fashioned a series of hard hitting pop vignettes which chronicle subjects as diverse as racial intolerance (‘Disease’) and the loss of a parent (‘The Day That Came and Went’). Growing Up in Small Town America could have been Whirligigs working title, and it impresses for many of the same reasons Randy Newman’s Land of Dreams did back in 1988. Recommended. Also on A&M, Dishwalla’s references are equally broad, and the scope of their lyrics just as ambitious. Sometimes, however, as on the opening ‘Pretty Babies’ and ‘Miss Emma Peel’, the songs drift toward AOR banality, carrying a balladic, bromidic burden. Dishwalla throw fewer curves than the Caulfields, often ‘resorting’ to guitar-fests rather than selecting them.

Highlights are ‘Haze’, which meshes Isaac Hayes and Led Zeppelin, intelligently tackling the subect of alcoholism within a family. ‘Charlie Brown’s Parents' discusses the difficulties of communicating, and ‘Moisture’ sees vocalist JR Richards aping Alice in Chains’ Layne Staley. Best of all is ‘Counting Blue Cars’, which approaches religion from an alternate perspective and contains the line: ‘Tell me all your thoughts on God... I’d really like to meet her.’

GUTTERBALL Weasel (Festival)

MARK DONOVAN

Gutterball are sort of indie-rock supergroup: Steve Wynn, ex-Dream Syndicate, Bryan Harvey, Johnny Hott from House of Freaks, Stephen McCarthy ex-Long Ryders, and Armistead Wellford of Love Tractor. Their second album sees their distinctive guitar pop fuelling songs about older women, nightclubs that have closed down, sugar (a metaphor for something else, methinks), and that old standby, fancying your best friend’s girlfriend. Recorded in three days, Weasel's got a boozy, matey cheer about it, which at times makes one think it would’ve been more fun to be there than on this side of the speakers. That said, ‘Transperancy’ and ‘ls There Something I Should Know?’ are beguiling guitar pop — but then you realise it’s the riff from ‘Needles and Pins’, and the other is Dylan's ‘Absolutely Sweet Marie’. The best track here is ‘California’ (a slow brooding ballad), but the best lyric on the album has to go to these lines from ‘One-Eyed Dog’: ‘I used to dry-wall / I used to paint houses / I used to catch roaches, termites and mouses / Now everybody says that I’m useless and lazy / People are so kind man, they just amaze me...’ Until local underdogs Shaft get their shit together and release that album, this’ll do fine.

GREG FLEMING