WALTER HYATT
King Tears (MCA)
Not long after Walter Hyatt was killed, MCA reissued the maiden release of its
“Master Series,” King Tears. Co-produced by Lyle Lovett, Hyatt’s 1990
release sounds a lot like the smooth, acoustic parlor swing into which Lovett
can slip so easily. Only it’s even sexier, sultrier — like Sinatra — and
given Hyatt’s tragic death, it resonates like a candlelight service honoring
one of Austin’s foundation-stone musicians. — Raoul Hernandez
JULIEANN BANKS
Gold
With the exception of the first song, “Insomnia,” Gold is a recording
of the former Apache of Paris’ performance on KUT’s Live Set. As such,
the sound is immediate and somewhat raw, which is a good thing. Banks has a
wonderful voice, especially when her goofy vocal tricks don’t over shadow that
quality, as on “Suicide,” where some painfully emotional songwriting surfaces
in a simply beautiful ballad. — Christopher Hess
URSULA’S CURSE
Move Left and Push Up
The degree of sexual sophistication on Move Left and Push Up makes
“Lick My Love Pump” look downright erudite, but there’s still something
strangely addictive about this sin(cola)-laden record — maybe along the lines
of wanting to be whipped. — Michael Bertin
YUCKMOUTH
Yuck Fu
Solid if unspectacular slab of punk rock dealing with such topics of the
moment as O.J. Simpson, minimum wage, Hooters, and Hillary Clinton’s morals.
Perfect for hoisting a few or just blowing off some steam, albums like this are
reassuring proof that Austin’s DIY ethic is surviving quite well in the face of
all the major-label hooey to which we’ve been subjected lately. —
Christopher Gray
REGALMATIC 2000
It Slices, Dices, and Goes Good at Parties
Recorded back in June of ’96, this cassette of pop songs has some really
enjoyable moments. Much like the Didjits, and a little like old Supersuckers,
Regalmatic 2000 uses driving punk rhythms and sweeping guitar overlays to good
effect, and while there’s some garbled gibberish at the end called “Alien
Transmission,” this one’s worth the blank Sony high bias tape it was recorded
on. — Christopher Hess
END RESULT
Cosmic Electric EP
Tough to tell whether the End Result is more about the Bad Brains or Metallica
on this too-short, 4-song CD, competantly delivered and well-hooked nontheless.
The end result? Still a bit more ambitious than volatile. — Andy
Langer
MILKWEED
(Melted Wax)
This album reaches high in both its approach to the music and the lyrics, the
former aspiring to the most ploddingly anthemic melodies and dramatic bridges,
the latter proclaiming the agony and hope of the human soul screaming to be
expressed and freed. Singer Kathy Crumpler does have a powerful voice, but
Milkweed come up short when the songs become routine and perpetually loooooong. — Christopher Hess
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Old Five and Dimers Like Me (Koch)
A reissue of Billy Joe Shaver’s absolute finest moment, 1973’s Kris
Kristofferson-produced Old Five and Dimer’s… was never duplicated by
anything Shaver would later record for Capricorn or Columbia. Featuring
original versions of “Black Rose,” and “Georgia on a Fast Train,” plus two
bonus tracks, this album is essential to any collection of Texas
songwriting greats. — Raoul Hernandez
RUSS BARTLETT
One Hand on the Plow (Republic of Texas)
Losing Townes Van Zandt, that was a blow. So stumbling across Russ Bartlett
may help curtail the mourning period. He’s got that poetic affinity for what
educated types might call senseless as well as the requisite dry wit of the
Texas singer-songwriter. The fact is we’ll eventually lose others like Van
Zandt, but it’s comforting to know that more of them always seem to come along.
— Michael Bertin
PHIL PRITCHETT
Philworld (Spitune)
Somewhere between their Sweetheart of the Rodeo and The Ballad of
Easy Rider, the Byrds released Philworld, an excellent, easy-going,
and largely acoustic album that sounds like a precussor to Robert Earl Keen and
ranks among Roger McGuinn’s better works. Milo Deering, on fiddle, mandolin,
and pedal steel sat in for Clarence White, distinguishing himself mightily in
the process. So who’s Phil Pritchett?
— Raoul Hernandez
This article appears in January 24 • 1997 and January 24 • 1997 (Cover).