Texas Platters
Fri., Jan. 24, 1997
LISA TINGLE
In the Water
In the liner notes to In the Water, Lisa Tingle thanks the Peach Pit
After Dark. No, that's a joke, but the record was produced by David Silverman.
Okay, that's a joke, too, but if you even understood those references you
should probably get out more often, and realize that when you do finally get
out you'll probably want to go someplace other than where Tingle is playing.
Tingle does have quite the rich and powerful voice, but that only fills the
major prerequisite. In the Water just feels very Nashville, not in genre
but in believability. Despite what the songwriting credits report, it sounds
like Tingle is singing someone else's words. Play this album for Little Sister
fans, as they might cotton to it as an ultra-slick "More Free Love and
Watered-Down Nickel Beer," just don't play it around a bunch of Cartesian
dualists as it might cause them to seriously rethink their position on the
whole mind-body thing. Translation: It ain't got no soul.
1.5 stars -- Michael Bertin
MISSILE COMMAND
Try Japanese Fast Food (Pope Yes)
To those of you jonesing for a bit of Gals Panic, the arrival of Missile
Command is an event to be heralded. I'm not one of you, but I do think at least
a little celebration is in order. Featuring member(s) from that disbanded
assemblage of high energy punk/ska-funnymen, Missile Command has a new
sound that draws as much from Bad Religion for the uncanny vocal similarities
as it does from Let's Go Bowling or even Rancid for the ska bounce. "Victory at
Sea" is good, the verses and choruses joined by a series of interesting bridges
that owe their complexity to ska, and while the band may seem like a California
import, the image in "Shorty" of "sitting here in Texas eating Mexican food for
breakfast at a taco stand across from the highway" keeps things from becoming
too SoCal. There are elements of Gals Panic here, most notably the sense of
humor, but the vocals and the melodies are much more palatable in this
grouping. Try Japanese Fast Food offers five solid songs from a band who
will hopefully make more.
2.5 stars -- Christopher Hess
PERVIS
NeckOrNothing (Idol)
Sort of like Veruca Salt, Dallas' Pervis features two women, Cristina Harrison
and Rachael Strauss, on alternating lead vocals while behind them, an all-male
team of musicians -- bassist Lee Bewley, drummer Harden Harrison, and guitarist
Eric Schmidt -- churns out chunks of guitar rock at various speeds. The ladies'
lead vocal tag-teaming creates an almost hip-hop, self-reflexive energy,
vaulting the music over patches of spotty songwriting and rote lyrics; the guys
make even the most pedestrian punk-metal hybrids more than an exercise simply
by not trying too hard. Even on CD, the band has chemistry to burn. What they
could use is a decent production job, however; even when they're approximating
hardcore, the guitars don't have much grit, the drums are consistently
snare-heavy and tinny, and the lower three bass strings might as well not be
there. At least all that can be fixed, and the rest of it really ain't that
broke.
2.5 stars -- Christopher Gray
ELIAS HASLANGER
For the Moment (Heart Music)
Saxophonist Elias Haslanger is no stranger to the live process. He's been a
mainstay on the local scene for several years now since returning from a short
stint in NYC. In fact, you can usually find him playing around town any given
week with the same core of musicians joining him on this live session. The
date, Haslanger's third recording project as a leader, catches his fiery
quartet on a memorable night at the Elephant Room in March, 1996 (save for one
track recorded six months earlier at Cedar Street). I was hoping to hear more
original material than just the title track, but the inclusion of Coltrane's
"Miles' Mode" and McCoy Tyner's "Passion Dance" are certainly in step with the
group's modern proclivities and balance out more traditional fare like
"Cherokee" and "Stella by Starlight." The quartet packs a potent one-two punch
with Haslanger's agile sax lines and the remarkable Fredrick Sanders' flowing
pianistics complementing each other wonderfully. Drummer J.J. Johnson and
bassist Edwin Livingston have been working together steadily for a while and
show why they form perhaps the tightest young rhythm tandem in town. Haslanger
& Co. are continually growing as musicians. This fine slice of Austin jazz
is a snapshot of how they sounded for the moment.
3.0 stars -- Jay Trachtenberg
SPOON
Soft Effects EP (Matador)
FURRY THINGS
Hedfones (Trance Syndicate)
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I guess. After all, the five songs on Spoon's
21-minute Soft Effects EP were originally intended as B-sides for singles from Telephono. Who gives a flying rat shit if they'll bury the heinous Pixies references once and for all or that "Mountain to Sound," with another series of Britt Daniel ginsu riffs, is as good (if not better) as anything on the full-length, or that "Waiting for the Kid to Come Out" is the real ode to the Electric Lounge that Wesley Willis will never write. "Loss Leaders"? The best single not on Telephono. And what about the Furry Things' 43-minute "EP," Hedfones? Seeing as Ken Gibson has transplanted his bloody valentine from the group's debut, The Big Saturday Illusion, and replaced it with an "ambient" pacemaker that pulses warm and steady, like the new EP's hypnotic, 12-minute centerpiece, "Piece No. 3 in C," why Hedfones couldn't be anything but a stopgap. (Or is that stopgaff?) Sure, it's more cohesive than the debut, but the fact that this exciting young band will move far beyond even this beguiling departure on their next release means this one's just a waste of your time. No, the industry is right. These things are a waste of time. Just like Sincola's Rise Records EP.
(Both) 4.0 stars -- Raoul Hernandez
COME AND GET IT -- A TRIBUTE TO BADFINGER
(Copper)
Tribute albums are pointless rehashes of songs that were fine the first time
or don't deserve further attention, right? Well, that's usually the case, but
this tribute to the Seventies U.K. pop band Badfinger, assembled mostly by
Austinites for the Houston-based Copper label, bucks the trend. Lovingly put
together, this collection of international acts takes more good songs than you
thought Badfinger had and gives back -- if not always astonishing -- at least
uniformly listenable versions of them; from Adrian Belew's no-piano version of
"Come and Get It" all the way through Badfinger's old Apple Records' labelmates
Lon and Derrek Van Eaton's George Harrison-ish take on "Apple of My Eye." The
locals provide plenty of color, too: Cotton Mather's "Flying" teases with a
cheap Lowery Fun Machine beat, and the Plimsouls (including Austin's Eddie
Muñoz), following the band's name rather than their milieu, put
"Suitcase" in a blues bag. If you've been waiting for a positive trend in
tribute albums, this is the one to check out. And you better hurry, because it
may not last.
3.5 stars -- Ken Lieck
MICHELLE SHOCKED
Kind Hearted Woman (Private Music)
Mercury Poise (Mercury)
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(Both) 3.0 stars -- Michael Bertin
23 ALIENS, DIZZYLUNA, OLIVE,
GIRL ROBOTS
Planet of Forbidden Delights
On a night of 1,000 bands, you'll usually find the perpetrators of this CD
compilation safely hidden away at warehouse parties or liberated dives like the
Blue Flamingo. The intrinsic tendency of the four bands inhabiting the
Planet of Forbidden Delights is to free-fall between the cracks of
genres, scenes, and playlists. Instead, they revel in a provocative and
unbridled spirit of experimentation that propels them light years beyond their
earth-bound brethren. 23 Aliens sounds a bit like Devo and Ween after a few
cocktails and a naked winter sprint through the woods. The lo-tech basement
futurisms on songs like "Alien Food" and "Wet Pussy" are sure to annoy all the
right people. Dizzyluna's "Halleighluhjah" conquers new frontiers with all the
post-hippy dadaist fervor of a Zoogz Rift sermon on the Secret Marines, and the
Girl Robots' "Man Without a Gun" exhumes the Carrie Nations' hyperdramatic
psych-pop along with the impassioned off-Broadway delivery of Rado and Ragni.
If commercial radio was forced at gunpoint to play one band from this album, it
would probably be Olive. The sextet's "Let's Make a Deal" achieves bliss by
combining the ethereal hum of Lush with Poly Styrene squeals and Olympia DIY
ambience. Each act here carves out its own distinct identity, but taken
together, the sound of an emerging collective looms large.
3.5 stars -- Greg Beets
BRAVE NEW WORLD
The Rest Is Silence
Caveat emptor: Beware of bands quoting Shakespeare. Avoid them like a
15-part Masterpiece Theatre series starring William Shatner as Henry IV,
V, and VI. This annoying Better Than Ezra/Toad the Wet Sprocket radio treacle
is total MOR, an acronym meaning approximately "syphilis." Twice as long as it
should have been, and twice as produced, Silence utterly lacks any kind
of solid hooks or pure pop impulse. Any good instinct the band has -- and, to
be fair, there are a few -- is quickly swallowed in the labyrinth of
instrumental ejaculation and prog-rock showboating. It's totally devoid of any
center or edge, a smoothed-over melange the likes of which should have died
with ELP, Rush, and Journey, but seems to recycle itself generation to
generation like a bad sitcom concept. Hamlet spoke the title before shuffling
off his mortal coil for good; here, hopefully, the words are equally
prophetic.
1.0 star -- Christopher Gray
POOR YORICK
Caucasia (Sideffects Music)
Poor Yorick have been around a long time. The quality of the musicianship, the
often intricate songs they write, and the myriad styles they incorporate into a
single album can attest to that as each of band member offers his own distinct
vision to the collective. In other words, there's a lot going on throughout
Caucasia, their second release. Unfortunately, for those of us who are
not already fans of the band, there's too much going on. The drama of "Hanging
by a Thread," in its forecasting of inevitable personal breakdown, is lost in
the cheekiness of the background lyrics; the dirty blues of "Hoodoo" trashed by
the intrusion of a seeming duet between Louis Armstrong on nitrous and Moon
Unit Zappa. Mostly this album pissed me off as the beginning of every track
provided a viable opportunity for me to really like an entire song (with the
completely dreadful exception of the title track), until the band dashed that
hope with their overblown sense of wit. There is such a thing as being too
clever. "Doo Da in Karmaville" and "Ruby Lee" provide a couple shining moments,
but for the most part the album is caught in a funnel: so much is being poured
in so fast that only a few drops can come out. And now Poor Yorick are no more,
which may be a good thing, as the individual efforts can only add up to more
than the sum of the parts.
2.0 stars -- Christopher Hess
CATTLEGUARD
Long Pathetic Story
Bottom. Beer-splattered, ramshackle dive rock like this doesn't happen without
bottom. And producer John Croslin knows how to get bottom, knows how to make
the bass and drums pound you in the stomach 'til you hit the mat. Left, right,
left, right, left, right; Brit Jones and Scot Hickman hammer at you with their
combo guitars, backing you into the turnbuckle with a force not seen since
before George Forman lost his terrifying prowess to Muhammed Ali in the "Rumble
in the Jungle." There's not a terrible amount of finesse here -- which isn't to
say it's sloppy -- and "Motivated" does stick to the ribs pretty well, but with
a flurry of riffs this great, the marks that are left aren't the songs. It's
the bottom, the same type of hard-muscled stomping you received at the hands of
the True Believers at the Continental Club or The Wannabes at the Hole in the
Wall. The fight only goes 7 rounds -- 22 minutes -- but this Long Pathetic
Story ends with a knock-out. Fat-bottom boys, you making the rockin' world
go 'round.
3.0 stars -- Raoul Hernandez
JACK SAUNDERS
(White Cat)
More Nashville. Lyrically it has the occasional turn of a paradox-based phrase
("Making a living is going to be the death of me"), as well as clichés
and other over-worked stock expressions ("wear your heart on your sleeve," "let
the good times roll," "they're playing our song," etc.). There's even some
train imagery. Musically, it could just as well be a Travis Tritt record,
although the harmonized guitar melodies sound dangerously close to something
lifted from Skynyrd or Boston. It's all very peculiar because this is a
self-produced effort on a tiny label, and normally the horror stories are about
how the record company pressured the artist to make something that sounds this
belt buckle. No such forces at work here. It's Nashville alright. At least it
doesn't have Garth Brooks' bad taste in clothing or Billy Ray Cyrus'
white-trash hair cut. Saunders dedicates the record to the memory of Walter
Hyatt. It's a nice gesture, but an even better one would have been to make a
record more becoming of Hyatt's legacy.
2.0 stars -- Michael Bertin
REO SPEEDEALER
(Spanish Fly)
On last year's Scene, Heard Volume 2 -- a cross-genre-ational
compilation of new Dallas-area artists -- REO Speedealer looked like a genius
concept; the speed metal middleground of El Vez and the Butthole Surfers. That
song, "Viva La Vulva," re-appears here on their full-length debut, only it's
surrounded by so much sketchy bullshit that it's rendered nearly useless. In
fact, this whole affair is sadly disposable, from the underwritten songs
lacking both focus and hooks to lo-fi production and buried vocals. And if the
short blasts like "Cocaine Joey," "Dealer's Choice," "They Is as They Does," or
"My Headers Are Hot," look to be on paper somehow indicative of a bigger joke,
then the first listen proves they're simply set-ups with no punchlines -- so
tragic for a band, that regardless of their output, will still have a lock on
the state's best band name.
1.5 stars -- Andy Langer
BILLY WHITE
Illusionation (DMZ)
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3.5 stars -- Andy Langer
PLOW MONDAY
Societal Jive (Jasmine)
Locals Plow Monday play good metal, and I don't use that word as a profanity.
The guitars are tight and the bass is clean (usually playing the same lines),
backed by highly cymbal-ic crashing drums. They have the major time changes,
the strumming lulls, and the explosive breaks. So it is metal, but
they're also just a trio with a full sound -- a full sound and some good songs.
"Pangea" is a big tune with two of the more interesting breaks on the album; it
only lacks a guest vocal from Bruce Dickinson or Chris Cornell. The lyrics,
especially in "Questions," reveal a slightly naïve contemplation of
society and its ills without coming off as self-important or, at the other end,
ignorant. In the guitar parts, Plow Monday often resemble many metal bands of
the post-glam, punk-influenced variety, but they don't overextend themselves or
their sound. Obvious comparisons to Pearl Jam or Soundgarden are not
inaccurate, but they are incomplete (this is no mere Seven Mary Three). In
keeping it simple, they allow the strengths of their playing and of the lyrics
to be the prominent features. Sometimes it gets away from them, like "Seeing
Double" or the strangely mixed background vocals in "Throwdown," but for the
most part it's an impressive first effort.
3.0 stars -- Christopher Hess
