ENCOMIUM:
A TRIBUTE TO LED ZEPPELIN
(Atlantic)
Henry Rollins inadvertently defines “encomium” when he suggests in the
liner notes to this Led Zeppelin tribute that there’s a secretly encoded
message in “Stairway to Heaven” that reads, “We’re going to make a lot of money
off this thing.” And in luring original Zep fans who’ve now graduated to VH-1
with names like Sheryl Crow, Tori Amos, and Hootie & the Blowfish,
Ecomium‘s producers have indeed guaranteed themselves a natural cash
cow. Unfortunately, this makes the inclusion of acts like Cracker, the Stone
Temple Pilots, and Blind Melon seem incidental – much like their covers sound.
Worst of all, Encomium sounds grossly calculated and safe in the face of
two earlier volumes of The Song Retains the Name, tributes that
ingeniously turned the Zep legacy upside down with country, rap, and bluegrass
takes. Even when the Rollins Band or David Yow and Helmet do take some
structural liberties, they’re all riff – grossly overlooking whatever subtlety
Zep’s original arrangements offered. As for the rest of the lazy stabs that
seem more about celebrating Zeppelin’s sales than about treasuring their songs,
it’s enough to make Kingdom Come and Whitesnake commendable for at least going
through the trouble to pen their own tributes.
1.5 stars – Andy Langer
COME TOGETHER:
AMERICA SALUTES THE BEATLES
(Liberty)
No, no, no, no! This is not America salutes the Beatles, but
rather Nashville slaughters the Beatles. And since John Lennon and Paul
McCartney wrote some of the most indelible pop songs of the latter half of the
20th century, that’s a pretty staggering accomplishment when you think about
it. Yet among the 17 tracks here, only one is at all notable: Austin homeboy
Willie Nelson’s delightfully slinky canter through “One After 909.” Aside from
that and David Ball’s workman-like take on “I’ll Follow the Sun,” the rest are
unimaginative and sometimes even laughable versions of songs that are pretty
darn hard to screw up. Aside from the offerings by artists who ought to know
better (Delbert McClinton, Huey Lewis, and Kris Kristofferson, who frogs his
way through an unlistenable “Paperback Writer”), most of the dross filling this
disc comes either from acts whose links with the Beatles’ legacy are tenuous at
best (like Randy Travis, Collin Raye, and Shenandoah), or those who are so
marginal (such as Phil Keaggy & PFR, John Berry, and Susan Ashton &
Gary Chapman) that you wonder why they were even included. Considering the
ever-descending quality of Nashville tribute albums – first Common
Thread, then Mama’s Hungry Eyes, and now this collection of crap –
the State of Tennessee ought to pass a law against recording any more of these
ventures in Music City, because what they do here to the songs of Lennon &
McCartney is downright criminal.
1 star – Rob Patterson
TILL THE NIGHT IS GONE:
A TRIBUTE TO DOC POMUS
(Forward/Rhino)
If one musical figure ever deserved tribute, it’s the late Jerome Solon
Felder, aka Doc Pomus. Though largely unknown to the general public
except through such genuinely classic songs he wrote as “This Magic Moment” and
“Save the Last Dance for Me,” Pomus was a tough but loving mentor for scores of
younger songwriters, and a constant presence at the best New York City club
shows (despite being confined to a wheelchair for most of his adult life). As
anyone who knew the man can tell you, Doc was an undeniably spiritual presence,
and his genuinely human and magically musical soul seems to touch every song
here in versions by his friends: B.B. King, Dr. John, Lou Reed; peers: Bob
Dylan, Dion, Irma Thomas, and Brian Wilson: acolytes: Rosanne Cash and Shawn
Colvin; and admirers: Los Lobos and John Hiatt. Each track seems blessed with
something special, and my favorite changes with every listen. One day it could
be the way Colvin recasts “Viva Las Vegas” in a moody twilight meditation, or
Reed slips “This Magic Moment” into his best street-smart leathers, while on
others it’s how Dylan, Hiatt, and The Band gleefully rock their way through,
respectively, “Boogie Woogie Country Girl,” “A Mess of Blues” and “Young
Blood.” And on any given day, the cuts here by King (“Blinded by Love”), Thomas
(“There Must Be a Better World Somewhere”), Solomon Burke (“Still in Love”),
and Aaron Neville (“Save the Last Dance for Me”) prove Pomus the most soulful
Caucasian to ever grace the planet.
4.5 stars – Rob Patterson
FOR THE LOVE OF HARRY:
EVERYBODY SINGS HARRY NILSSON
(Music Masters)
In the recent glut of kitchy tribute albums, one would be hard pressed
to find one that actually pays homage to an artist out of love and friendship.
The ways in which this album succeeds far outweigh it’s failures. Most
importantly, it illuminates the simple and lovely songs of an artist probably
most famous for being John Lennon’s carousing buddy, and not for writing, say,
“The Moonbeam Song” (performed here by Steve Forbert). The album was conceived
before his death last year, and all the artists’ royalties (who produced their
songs out of their own pockets) go to the Coalition to Stop Gun Violence, a
cause Nilsson supported after Lennon’s murder. The truth of the mission can
especially be felt in the performances, from the silly songs – Victoria
Williams (with Dave Pirner and Mark Olson) on “The Puppy Song” and Nilsson’s
fave, Jellyfish, on “Think About Your Troubles” – to the wrenching beauty of
buddy Randy Newman on “Remember.” With 23 cuts that almost all sound absolutely
personal to the artist, For the Love of Harry is just as its titled.
4 stars – Mindy LaBernz
STAR POWER
(Pravda)
K-Mart and K-Tel: a love affair like Romeo and Juliet. A beautiful and
perverse union – which pretty much describes Southern Culture on the Skids’
hillbilly porn version of “Venus,” or Red Red Meat’s quaaludinal take on 10cc’s
“I’m Not in Love.” For more gene splicing, try the A-Bones doing Bo Diddley on
the Hues Corporation’s “Rock the Boat,” Vic Chesnutt’s quivering delivery of
“The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia,” and Susan Voelz’s dreamy “Ode to
Billy Joe.” A dozen sleazy, delicious trysts. They seduce Seventies radio
sucklings and fans of gen next music. Even better is that through the
hooks of these one-off hits (“Kung Fu Fightin’,” “How Do You Do”), one comes to
appreciate groups that are still scurrying around the grass-roots level: Rex
Daisy, Fig Dish, Big Fish Ensemble, and Brown Betty (all SXSW ’95 attendees).
Yes, folks, this all-covers-by-“TODAY’S-ARTISTS” K-Tel lookalike collection
(volume three) is chock full o’ instant favorites, especially if you grew up
somewhat Dazed and Confused. Available now, at all K-Marts.
3.5 stars – Raoul Hernandez
LIVIN’ LOUNGE
The Fabulous Sounds of Now! (Continuum)
Today’s youth has a fixation with Jackie Gleason’s version of the
Fifties. Lord knows why. Is it this? The Rocky Horror cabaret of Andy Prieboy’s
“Cannot Not,” with the creeping bass and the crawling piano? His doom noir wail
“you cannot not want me, you cannot not want me?” Is it Lucy Ricardo
caterwauling in the background of the Zimmerman’s Joabim-esque “Portuguese
Woman?” Yes? No? Then it must be Austin faves Useless Playboys palm-leafing it
to Ellington’s “Caravan,” and Friends of Dean Martin doing the dockside buoy
clang on Gershwin’s “Summertime.” Big, lush, ham music, played on the portable
over by the fireplace. Swing music to cover the red shag shuffle of people
rushing to the ultra-modern kitchen with the latest conveniences for another
martini. Music to drown out cold war paranoia or… or Nineties social disease,
pestilence, and global deforestation. Oh. I see. Guess it’s time for another
martini. Jackie, turn up the sounds, baby.
3.5 stars – Raoul Hernandez
EAR OF THE DRAGON:
THE FIRST-EVER COMPILATION OF ASIAN-AMERICAN ROCK
& ROLL
(Fortune 5)
Forgive me for having the ear of the pig, but the only thing this
record arouses is one question: Why? It’s an intriguing enough concept,
collating 20 subterranean U.S. rock bands with at least one member of Oriental
descent. Unfortunately, while the concept grabs, little of the music is as
gripping. aMiniature, Yanti Arafin, and J Church each uncork some
grain-scraping artpunk which totally refreshes in these days of post-Bad
Religion radiopunk bland-outs. Damnbuilders scratch a droning violin chord
against frantic guitar rock on their track, whilst Chumley recall the
overdriven Morley chorusbox guitar sound which drove many a classic midwestern
punk record from ’82 to ’85. Otherwise, unless you’re fond of the type of yawn
introduction which has become indiepop’s stock-in-trade, avoid Ear of the
Dragon like you would a rotting dragon fetus run down on the interstate.
1.5 stars – Tim Stegall
This article appears in June 23 • 1995 and June 23 • 1995 (Cover).