KENNY WHEELER
Angel Song (ECM)
Trumpeter Kenny Wheeler’s new recording finds him with a dream team band, yet
remains as notable for what’s missing as for what’s between the grooves. Joined
by Lee Konitz on alto, Bill Frisell on guitar, and Dave Holland on bass, the
drummerless quartet features superlative and lyrical musicianship. Musical
dialogues are seamless, particularly between Frisell and Holland, who should
play together more often. Yet Angel Song begins with slow, muted
shadings and warm tones — � la Miles Davis’ and Gil Evans’
Sketches of Spain — and never deviates. Wheeler’s freer jazz
explorations (often undertaken with Holland) are absent, leaving a band capable
of virtually anything mired in a hazy sameness, curiously devoid of any real
passion. Perhaps the blame can be laid on Manfred Eicher’s production, whose
singular trademark sheen lends a sense of artifice to the proceedings. Angel
Song contains some gorgeous music, to be sure, but occasionally loses the
tricky balance between subtlety and somnambulism.
3.0 Stars — Jeff McCord
OP8 FEATURING LISA GERMANO
Slush (Thirsty Ear)
For those painfully unaware of the illustrious soul and output of Lisa Germano
(for whom local demi-god Thor has drummed), and only marginally versed in the
glory of Howie Gelb and the Giant Sand/Friends of Dean Martinez family, OP8 is
the perfect intro to this delirious combination of indie heroes. As the
mid-Eighties debut of Opal inspired eager new fans to explore the ancestral
roots of Clay Allison and the Dream Syndicate, Slush will send new fans
onto similar archeological digs. It may even send younger folks down paths
exploring pre-“Hey Hey My My” Neil Young, Robin Lane (the original backup
singer for Young’s “Round and Round,” lusciously covered here), and Lee
Hazelwood. How slathered in slippery, sleazy cowboy mysticism is OP8’s cover of
his old duet with Nancy Sinatra, “Sand.” Here, however, Germano takes the role
of Hazelwood and Gelb takes Sinatra’s place. Simply brilliant. All 11 cuts are
stand-out material, but special mention must be given Germano’s skin-crawling
and provocative “Tom, Dick, & Harry,” which the liner notes say was
“inspired by Bob Guccione, Jr., and Toby Myers.” She won’t believe in
love/Oh poor baby/’Cause he had some power, some power over her… Hmmmmmmmm.
4.0 Stars — Kate X Messer
U2
Pop (Island)
Ten years after The Joshua Tree, U2 are still trying to save us from
ourselves. Welcome to “Discothequ�,” a spot-on updating of “Where the
Streets Have No Name.” It’s just as lonely, isolated, and searching as their
earlier anthem, but this time with a crushing club groove and a wicked
stutter-step guitar lick engineered to keep you dancing while Europe implodes.
The rest of Pop follows suit, sin and decadence masquerading as earnest
soul-searching (and vice versa). U2 want to keep “Staring at the Sun” because
it may be their “Last Night on Earth,” and they want to enjoy “Miami” and “The
Playboy Mansion,” but they still want to know “Do You Feel Loved?” and what it
would be like “If God Will Send His Angels” — closing the album pleading for
Jesus to “Wake Up Dead Man.” That most of this is played out over a bed of
congestive electronic soundscapes (that are not techno, except maybe
“Mofo”) only makes the irony that much more delicious — and poignant. Under
all the artifice, Pop beats with a resolutely human heart; it is the same U2 after all. True, a lot of idealism and good intentions have fallen
by the wayside since Boy, but U2 has more than compensated. By
superimposing blatant commercialism and true faith until they are
indistinguishable, Pop presents U2 as once again not only relevant, but
absolutely essential.
4.0 Stars — Christopher Gray
NICK CAVE & THE BAD SEEDS
The Boatman’s Call (Reprise)
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do. But if I did, I would kneel down and ask Him not to intervene when it came
to you, not to touch a hair on your head — to leave you as you are. And if He
felt He had to direct you, then direct you into my arms.” More a hymn than
anything else, “Into My Arms,” one of 12 ballads on the Bad Seeds’ 10th studio
album, not only outshines most everything else on the The Boatman’s
Call, it defines it. Among the creaking accordions, quivering violins, and
murmuring organ, Cave’s dark, penitent voice ruminates solemnly on God, faith,
love, and devotion. True, he can’t help veering into his patented dark
profanity (“People Ain’t No Good,” “Where do we go now but Nowhere?”), but he
spends most of the album being sincere — “Lime-Tree Arbour” (song number two,
both in sequence and quality), “Brompton Oratory,” and “There Is a Kingdom.”
Nick Cave sincere? Hard to believe. And it doesn’t always work. Still, these
may be his real Murder Ballads, and where you currently stand on the
issues of love and heartbreak will no doubt determine whether you fall into
Nick Cave’s open arms, darling.
3.0 Stars — Raoul Hernandez
SO WHAT: A TRIBUTE TO THE REPLACEMENTS
(Dis Twin)
They should have called the record Stunk, but that’s nit-picking. They
should’ve gotten someone to cover “Color Me Impressed,” but that’s selfish
trifling. And for a local comp, there’s a fair number of bands whose names
don’t ring any bells, but the unfamiliarity doesn’t detract from the
performances or the gesture. So What: A Tribute to the Replacements is
all about Bob (Stinson, that is, the Mats’ original guitarist), and all the
songs here are from that era; a bigger fan than I assures me the band did
“Can’t Hardly Wait” before Stinson’s departure. The two best cuts are the one’s
that on paper look like the biggest mismatches: Fastball doing “Androgynous”
and the Gourds taking on “Favorite Thing.” Both bands turn the originals inside
out, Fastball twisting the slow piano into erratic pop, and the Gourds gutting
the frenetic in favor of a slow stomp. Despite a lack of similar creative
rearrangements elsewhere, of the comp’s 18 tracks (one “joke” is buried after
the Dis Twins’ “Answering Machine”) there are just a couple of throwaways. Paul
Minor sterilizes “Left of the Dial” a bit, and shitty production mars a few of
the tracks, especially “If Only You Were Lonely.” The only thing this album is
really missing is the George Martin of the Replacements, alcohol. It doesn’t
sound as if anybody got drunk enough to do a Replacements cover properly —
supine and slobberingly incoherent.
3.0 Stars — Michael Bertin
SPEARHEAD
Chocolate Supa Highway (Capitol)
In 1992, with the Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy, Michael Franti surfaced as
a deadpan prophet, a sharp political pundit perhaps too serious for that
album’s overall good. Two years later, with Spearhead, Franti used the organic
soul approach to stretch out, offering authentic wisdom on both AIDS and the
NBA. Unfortunately, most of Chocolate Supa Highway, the follow-up who’s
timing seemed destined to fill the temporary Fugees’ void, reverts back to
disposability and is neither focused nor funky, wise nor wired. In fact, only
an album with material this sterile and scattershot could allow hip-hop
stranger Joan Osborne to steal the show, at least musically, with her
compelling chorus to “Wayfarin’ Stranger.” And although Franti himself now
seems entirely comfortable turning the light phrases, like “you look like Jimmy
Walker wearin’ Biggy Smalls’ gear,” it’s as if he’s traded the authentic tone
of his political convictions for ganja imagery that’s “blunted,” not as in high
— as in dull. And while “Tha Payroll,” a narrative on money, and the
Stephen Marley-led “Rebel Music” could’ve made nice centerpieces on a better
Spearhead record, ultimately, Chocolate Supa Highway is just the
sophomore slump.
2.0 Stars — Andy Langer
CHARLIE HUNTER QUARTET
Natty Dread (Blue Note)
Somebody’s onto something here. Blue Note’s cover series, which includes
saxman Everette Harp’s new agey take on Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On,
and guitarist Fareed Haque’s flamencoesque reading of Crosby, Stills, Nash,
& Young’s D�j� Vu, is an ingenius cross-pollination of
jazz and rock. Unfortunately, only Charlie Hunter’s mastery of Bob Marley’s
1975 reggae classic, Natty Dread, turns high concept into high art. And
praise Jah, does the guit-bassist deliver. If you’re like me, you’ve nearly
exhausted the Marley cannon, playing the 10 Island albums released during his
lifetime (plus Rasta Revolution and African Herbsman) into the
ground. Nevermind that in terms of songwriting, Marley’s catalogue is every bit
as strong as the Beatles’ — enough is enough. Bless Hunter then, for the
languid fluidity of “No Woman, No Cry,” a song FM radio ruined long ago. The
quick, boppish riffing on “Them Belly Full” and “Natty Dread”? Marley like
you’ve never heard him. “Lively Up Yourself,” “Rebel Music,” “Bend Down Low”?
Standards done right. And isn’t that what jazz does best? Interpret standards?
Mr. Marley, meet Mr. Gershwin…
4.0 Stars — Raoul Hernandez
BEN FOLDS FIVE
Whatever and Ever Amen (Sony/550 Music)
Whoa! D�j� vu. This Ben Folds Five albums sounds really
familiar. It sounds like… It sounds like… It sounds like… Wait, got it.
It sounds like the last Ben Folds Five album. Sure, you expect bands to sound
similar from album to album, but listening to Whatever and Ever Amen feels just like listening to the band’s self-titled debut. It’s even sequenced
similarly. The downside to this is that it will probably land the band a few
more of those inexplicable Billy Joel comparisons; for the unfamiliar, Ben
Folds Five is a deceptively named piano, bass, and drum trio. Within the
context of a pop song, the sonic capabilities of a piano may be limited
compared to the guitar, but likening Ben Folds to Billy Joel based on a musical
instrument is a little like saying Fred Barnes and Rosie O’Donnell make similar
contributions to social discourse because they both appear on a talk show. The
upside is that the first album was such a brilliant collage of giddy and witty
pop songs without the requisite guitar, drums, and angst formula, that a
credible knock-off of it is still mostly original — relative to standard radio
fare. As long as you were good the first time out, you could do worse.
3.0 Stars — Michael Bertin
This article appears in March 28 • 1997 and March 28 • 1997 (Cover).