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CosmicBen's Record Reviews
"S" Reviews
* * * 1/2 Simon & Garfunkel: Bookends (1968)--Being home is great-- I can raid my old vinyl collection and review albums based on their artistic merit, not just how much I paid for them. I love my copy of Bookends: the spare, poignant cover portrait (now immortalized by Almost Famous), blown up in gigantic vinyl size...the yellowed lyrics on the back...the "99-cents" sticker on the front...but enough about that. On Bookends, Simon attempts to create a grand statement on aging, or something, and it turns out decently. For one, he totally underutilizes Garfunkel's gorgeous vocals (he still gets out a wonderful line on "Overs", and beefs up the vocals whenever he's given a chance), and several of the songs have very little energy ("Overs", "Old Friends") or subpar hooks ("Fakin' It" is good but sounds forced; "Hazy Shade Of Winter" could be a million leaden hard rock anthems if you dressed it up). In his attempt to be esoteric, Simon lost the innocent transcendence that made Simon & Garfunkel songs so memorable. Of course, there are a few wonderful anthems: the soaring "America", the crashing "Save The Life Of My Child", with eerie backing vocals; I'm sick of "Mrs. Robinson", but it's damn good songwriting, with a cool line about Joe Dimaggio. The token sixties nugget is a brief colleage of old people talking -- it could have been profound, but it ends up being incoherent. And my favorite moment is the roaring crescendo of Simon's clever folk number "At The Zoo", bolstered by Garfunkel's harmonies. All in all, not as profound as it could have been, but several songs are stunning, and the slower songs have a poignant beauty about them...not the classic you've been told about, but a very interesting, adventurous pop record..
* * * * 1/2 The Simpsons: Songs In The Key Of Springfield--I believe the title is a clever take-off on the X-Files soundtrack Songs In The Key Of X from a few years ago; but either way, the producers of The Simpsons have provided us with one heck of a tasty donut here. Songs is a collection of musical numbers from the groundbreaking cartoon series, and almost everything on here is essential: even if it only had "We Do (The Stonecutters' Song)", a brilliant spoof of secret societies, I'd buy it in a second. I'd buy it used, of course; but since they've included songs like "Who Needs The Kwik-E-Mart" ("...sorry 'bout the salmonella!"), the Cheers theme take-off "Flaming Moe's", and the hilarious barbershop "Baby On Board", it's worth buying at any price. Truthfully, it's padded out with more duffers than I'd like to acknowledge: there are a few needless variations on the closing theme, and some crap with the otherwise funny Grampa Simpson, but there are enough brilliant songs on here to merit my high rating. With so many shameless cash-ins possible (and believe me, the Simpsons crew has put out their share), it's refreshing to see anyone put together such a comprehensive, lovingly-crafted collection -- I'd almost venture to say that it's a gift to the fans, despite the price tag. It's all a tribute to Alf Clausen, the show's tireless composer, who certainly deserves the recognition; Jeff Martin also wrote some winners, and actress Beverly D'Angelo hams it up on her Lurleen Lumpkin country numbers, one of them impressively self-composed. I couldn't tell you how it all would sound if you've never seen the original episodes; if that's the case, though, you need to get on your ass and live a little.
* * * Sleater-Kinney: All Hands On The Bad One (2000)--That has to be one of the most grammatically awkward titles ever. Anyway, Sleater-Kinney is an all-female trio that really knows how to rawk: guitarists Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein spit out muddled, engaging interlocked phrases, not really chords, but something that can sound really cool when done right; and Janet Weiss is one of the best drummers I've ever heard, using a snare-heavy style that can be sensitive or powerful or both at any given time. Even their vocals are innovative: Tucker yelps and Brownstein coos in a sneering, knowing manner, often at the same time, trading verses and weaving around eachother in a really entrancing way. Plus, the lyrics are great: sometimes bordering on pedagogy, but often poetic, and always pissed-off and interesting, especially on "#1 Must-Have" (what is it with these awkward titles?) and "Ballad Of A Ladyman". The problem is that their fifth album is lacking in great songs: too many have energy and inventive semi-riffs without the engaging hooks of their best work; and usually, they're so intent on screaming (or speaking) their point that they don't bother to come up with anything you'll feel like humming later. The few exceptions are wonderful, though: the poppy "You're No Rock N' Roll Fun" and the blistering title track (with the best drum kick I've ever heard) are as catchy as anything out there, and they tone things down for the strikingly beautiful "Leave You Behind". Even the title track, though, features a lazy, tuneless chorus, and almost everything else flies by without leaving a real impression, even if there are cool moments like the intro to "Ironclad", which shifts from a Zep-like intro to surf-guitar riffing. The band's energy and smarts make them a force to be reckoned with; and they're certainly capable of greatness -- I just don't hear enough of it on this record.
* * 1/2 Sloan: One Chord To Another (1997)--I wish I loved Sloan. Our heroes are four happy guys dishing out snappy rock and roll with overdubbed horns, quirky lyrics, and a healthy respect for their influences -- and they're hard-working and mostly undiscovered. Indie-cool without the smarm, which I certainly like. I just can't remember the songs. Everything is clever, immaculately crafted, peppy, and sonically varied. But they don't make an impression: none of the four members is a distinctive vocalist, few of the riffs or solos are memorable, and the melodies are so quiet that I miss them every time. Outside of the hand-clappin' "The Good In Everyone" and the semi-anthemic" Take The Bench", none of the songs make a dent in me. With an effervescent horn arrangement, "Everything You've Done Wrong" screams out "I'm a fun song!" -- and it is -- it's just not great. Literate sincerity is nice, but it's no substitute for inspired passion. The band members seem afraid to scream their heads off, and as a result it feels like the album is barely even there.
* * * * 1/2 Sly and the Family Stone: Stand! (1969)--That's right--not Stand?, Stand., or even Stand#, but Stand!!!! This is a brilliant, landmark album, but kind of hard to sit through as a whole. Five of the songs, though, should have been huge A-sides, and actually, three of them came pretty close: the phenomenal title track, which morphs from a warm, uplifting inspirational tune into a funky dance number; the muddled hippie milestone "I Want To Take You Higher;" and "Everyday People," Sly's successful stab at luscious pop/r&b perfection and future advertising royalties. The other two, "You Can Make It If You Try" and "Sing A Simple Song," are almost as good as "Dance To The Music," which is to say, really good, although there's not much to distinguish them since "Dance" came first. And the album's hidden gem is the tight, deceptively calm "Somebody's Watching You," which features Sly spouting brilliantly paranoid truisms over sunny backing vocals. Why, then, is it hard to sit through? Well, there's the semi-interesting semi-instrumental "Don't Call Me Nigger, Whitey," Sly's attempt at a one-joke song (hint: just read the track listing), and the thirteen-minute wordless wah-wah workout "Sex Machine"--the best I can say about it is that at some points, it sounds like two guitars are going at it, not to mention that Greg Errico's boring drum solo predates John Bonham's on "Moby Dick" by a few years. Ignore the clunkers, though: there are enough brilliant moments and complex, innovative grooves on here to make even the biggest wallflower want to stand! and shake his groove thang to the block-rockin' beats floating out of the stereo. And dig the album cover! Man, what swingin' shindigs those concerts must've been! Well, when he bothered to show up, that is.
* * * Sly & The Family Stone: There's A Riot Goin' On (1971)--I've had this for two years now, and I just can't get excited over it. It sounds like a failed, if worthy, experiment: Sly goes for a downtrodden mood and it works, but he barely bothered to write any interesting songs to complement the atmosphere. The sound is fascinating, muted and muddled with heavy clavinet and chiming guitar and harpsichord, all propelled by watery, insistent bass and topped off with vocals seemingly shouted from a distance. When the chants are catchy enough, as on "Luv N' Haight" and "Africa Talks To You 'The Asphalt Jungle'", it sounds like a really interesting party; when there's no energy, as on "Just Like A Baby" and "Time", I strain to pretend that there's genius behind his ramblings, and I just can't do it. The morose, bass-driven hit "Family Affair" is a marvel, with weary, knowing vocals from Sly; and Sly's wasted yodeling on "Spaced Cowboy" is my favorite moment on the album. But there's too much iffy experimentation (a remake of "Dance To The Music", intriguing but not very creative), and the other hit, "Runnin' Away", is irritatingly chipper despite interesting horn arrangements. It's all a unique statement, but it also reeks of artistic laziness, so I can't really recommend it despite the high points.
* * * The Smithereens: Especially For You (1986)--The Smithereens' debut is their most ambitious album, but also lays the groundwork for their unvarying sound: thumping beats, endlessly repeating riffs, and Pat DiNizio nasally crooning along. Producer Don Dixon coaxes crunching, colorful guitar riffs out of DiNizsio and Jim Babjak; he also lays on the echo and leaves plently of space in the arrangements, making the album at least sound like a classic 60's throwback. "Strangers When We Meet" blasts out of the speakers, with DiNizio's all-time catchiest chorus riding handclaps and Hal Blaine-style drum fills to power-pop euphoria. DiNizio also contributes "Blood And Roses", a simple, effective song that benefits from an ominous, bass-driven arrangement. Too many other songs, though, fly by without making an impression, be they rockers like "Listen To Me Girl" or ballads like "Cigarette" ("In A Lonely Place" does feature a lovely Suzanne Vega vocal). The instrumental performances are commendably ferocious, but I wish more of the songs grabbed my attention as much as the guitars and drumbeats do.
* * 1/2 The Smithereens: Green Thoughts (1988)--The Smithereens' second album is full of solid, crunching rock and roll, but not a shred of ambition. There are no interesting sounds or ideas, and no melodies that rise above DiNizio's usual sing-songy catchiness. It's so monotonous that I didn't realize "Something New" was a country song until I read it in another review .. I like a lot of the individual songs, especially DiNizio's menacing, riffy "Only A Memory" and his stomping "World We Know". But the only sonic deviation is the stately "If The Sun Doesn't Shine", where the band brilliantly recreates the Beach Boys' harmony sound, then lazily nicks the chords from "Don't Worry Baby" instead of trying to write a 90's Beach Boys classic. It's occurred to me that this year's Smithereens phase is similar to 2002's INXS phase, except that I ended up loving INXS for all of their mediocrity. Why the difference? Well, Michael Hutchence used every bit of energy to sell me INXS's drab songs, while DiNizio never rises above his smug working-class sneer. He's certainly got talent, and I'll bet he sat on dozens of interesting ideas for fear of his band leaving the middle of the road.
* * * 1/2 The Smithereens: 11 (1989)--On their third album, the Smithereens have gone jangly, lightening their formula with twinkling guitar lines and ever-present female backing vocals. Most of the songs have Elvis Costello-influenced two-word choruses, but given un-Costello-like breathing room and decorative harpsichord lines, they're quite pretty. "Blue Period" is a wildly successful example of the new formula, a delicate string-laden duet between Pat DiNizio and once and future Go-Go Belinda Carlisle. The one solid return to the old formula (and it's impossible to avoid that word when dealing with the Smithereens) is the loud, crunching "A Girl Like You", as driving and infectious as any of their radio hits if equally drab and colorless. The one real misfire is "Blues Before And After", which sounds like a big Smithereens hit but sports an awkward chorus; "Baby Be Good" and "Room Without A View" also sound like the latest in the line of catchy, assembly-line DiNizio songs. Still, there are plenty of exuberant pop-rock offerings like "Yesterday Girl" and Jim Babjak's "Cut Flowers", enough to make 11 the ideal Smithereens album for people who are wary of the band's monotonous tendencies.
* * * The Smithereens: Blow Up (1991)--Didn't these guys ever get tired of playing the same style of music on every song, on every album, over and over again? If their next album isn't bluegrass or hardcore rap, I don't think I'm going to have anything to say about it. But maybe, just maybe, if I can tell the difference between six nearly identical albums, I will be that much sharper a music critic. As such, Blow Up is a fun set of songs, poppier than Green Thoughts but not as memorable as 11. The melodies are as dreary as ever, but in a happy sort of way, and they do stretch out with a few guitar solos and some jazzy playing. The one winner is the uplifting, string-filled "Too Much Passion", but DiNizio crafts some solid rockers in "Top Of The Pops" and "Over And Over Again". "Get A Hold Of My Heart" and "If You Want The Sun To Shine" are more melodic explorations in the thumping 4/4 vein. There are no bad songs, and given the ludicrously low standards the band sets, Blow Up is a successful variation on the same goddamn album.
* * 1/2 A Date With The Smithereens (1994)--Blurgh. The Smithereens mine one unimaginative style, never stopping to notice that when a song isn't good, it's like a drill boring into the listener's brain. So they can do plodding, earnest guitar rock What's their excuse for recording six albums of it? Every track is a variation on the Great Smithereens Song, which happened to be "A Girl Like You" and was recorded two albums ago. Date begins with eight consecutive songs that feature no distinctive melodies and an all-consuming monotony that drowns out DiNizio's and Babjak's fiery two-guitar attack. If you make it to the end, things do lighten up a bit. "Can't Go Home Again" is an infectious twist on their riffy formula, while the quavery "Gotti" bizarrely beseeches the listener to free mafioso John Gotti. The most appealing track is the waltz-time, anti-grunge-music "Sick Of Seattle". It's quiet and funny, but it only reminds me that most grunge bands are willing to break from convention, while these guys have turned fear of the unknown into an art form.
* * 1/2 Soul Asylum: And The Horse They Rode In On (1990)--God bless Dave Pirner; the man tries so hard. On Soul Asylum's fifth album, he pumps out ten rock songs that drip with sincerity, attempts at meaning, and loud guitars. None of them are the least bit distinctive or memorable, but he certainly gets points for effort, and the rhythm section of Karl Mueller and Grant Young keeps things propulsive and hard-hitting. Guitarist Dan Murphy actually gets in the record's most interesting rocker, the swirling "Gullible's Travels", which features an airy melodica part by P-Funker Bernie Worrell. Pirner's already the loveable slacker, so I enjoy this record more than I would a similar set by most other bands. But his talent only creeps through on the heartbreaking piano ballad "We 3", which became the soundtrack to Holden and Alyssa's gut-wrenching reunion at the end of Chasing Amy (I don't think they got back together; they truly loved one another but needed each other as life experiences more than as life partners; still makes me cry every time, at any rate). It's the only real reason to buy this album, but for a few bucks you could do plenty worse.
* * * Soul Asylum: Grave Dancers Union (1992)--"Runaway Train" is an amazing song. In fact, when I was 13 or so, it was my favorite song in the whole world. I even "downloaded" a great mix tape from the radio where the song started in the middle, with a big cymbal crash and then "I can go where no one else can go / I know what no one else can know". To me, it was the prettiest, profoundest, most desperate piece of music in the world. I bought about three of the band's albums and returned them just as quickly, which everyone else in America seems to have done as well (my new $3 copy belonged to "Megan McCarthy", who seems to have taken out most of her frustrations on the back of the disc). Now I'm 20, and "Runaway Train" is the best track on a very uneven CD, although a few other songs hint at genuine songwriting talent from this man Dave Pirner: "Somebody To Shove" and "Black Gold" are both seriously melodic riff tunes, made even more memorable by Pirner's obvious slacker sincerity. The problem is that aside from the stately "Without A Trace", everything else pretty much sucks. The other rockers are less poignant and less memorable ("Keep It Up", "Get On Out", "April Fool", all in a row!) and the few attempts at balladry are laughable ("The Sun Maid"), although "Homesick" is mostly effective in its schmaltziness. Pirner spreads his melodic talents around a tiny bit, resulting in some pleasant hooks in songs that are throwaways regardless. His lyrics are mostly dumb, although set to his music they make a kind of weird sense. I'm baffled by the album's uneven nature: it's hard to believe the guy who wrote "Runaway Train" could fill 3/4 of the album with such dreck. The morals? Buy it for the three best songs, which are as catchy and powerful as I've heard from 90's rock music; and Megan shouldn't have sold back her damn mutilated CD. Always remember that some cheap schmuck like me is gonna scoop it up, and that's not fair to anyone. Especially me.
* * * Soul Asylum: Let Your Dim Light Shine (1995)--Jeez, there's not a lot to say about these guys; their second major-label album sounds exactly like their first. The good news is that the country ballads are stronger and better structured, and Pirner's great knack for verse melody livens up even the most banal songs. The bad news is the tiny number of great tunes: the raging "Just Like Anyone" and especially the hard-hitting slacker masterpiece "Misery" are as good as the last album's hits, but that's about it....I'm guessing their next album had one awesome song on it. Still, with the exception of the obnoxious "Caged Rat" and "Crawl", everything goes down really nicely, and there are a few songs like "Eyes Of A Child" and "To My Own Devices" with really pretty choruses. Plus, there's the rambling, but intriguing multipart "String Of Pearls", and "Bittersweetheart" is straight-up country, hokey but powerful. The sound is generic 90's sludge-rock, but everyone is nimble on their intruments; the lyrics continue Pirner's fascination with prostitutes and other down-and-out folk, and they're mostly dumb, although he obviously means what he sings. Not the most interesting record, but if you like the band at all, you'll enjoy listening to it.
* * * Soul Asylum: Candy From A Stranger (1998)--Well, it's an album. It's not really good, but it's not really bad either. The beats thump but don't offend. The bass is buried in all the strummed guitars. Everything is midtempo rock music, generic if not exactly adult contemporary. Pirner sings enjoyable, unmemorable melodies, still trying to recapture "Runaway Train" but never succeeding. Sometimes he hits on a good chorus, as on "Close" and especially the rocker "Cradle Chain", but nothing from this album is going to storm up the charts. The good news is that Pirner has finally become consistently mediocre; any of these happy, forgettable songs would have enhanced Soul Asylum's earlier albums because none of them are flat-out awful the way 3/4 of Grave Dancer's Union is. Then again, since there are no truly great songs, you should only buy Candy From A Stranger if you're interested in some sincere slacker background music.
* * * 1/2 Phil Spector: A Christmas Gift To You (1963)--Yeah, as if anybody else has the guts to tackle this album... Actually, producer Spector's contribution to yuletide cheer is mostly a blast, sappy sentiments aside. But 40 minutes of Spector (usually appreciated in singles form) reveals what's probably his greatest weakness: a limited bag of tricks. There's the shuffling beat...and the huge, booming echo...and...and... Great tricks, for sure, but most of these songs end up sounding the same (the clever "Parade of the Wooden Soldiers" is an exception, and there's an interesting take on "White Christmas"); therefore, it's up to the vocalists to try and save the day, something only the marvelous Darlene Love can do, on her own ("Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)," "A Marshmallow World") and with the Crystals ("Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town"). I'd call Ronnie Spector's crackly New Yawk accent "innocent," except that she was boinking Spector at the time; and God knows where Phil dredged up Bob B. Soxx & The Blue Jeans -- Bob's schlocky voice ruins the two tunes he's featured on. But Hal Blaine was probably the best drummer in rock history--his thunderous fills are still amazing to listen to -- and being the Jewish kid that I am, hearing these songs on the radio has been the highlight of every Christmas season I can remember. If there's a space in your heart for really clever kitsch -- and especially if it's cold outside -- you'll probably have a great time listening to this. Awww....
* * 1/2 Bruce Springsteen: The Wild, The Innocent & The E-Street Shuffle (1973)--I really like what Bruce is trying to do here. He's going for a laid-back, happy, circus-y feel, with strummed guitars, carnival organs, and tales of all sorts of interesting characters. It's colorful beyond belief and really refreshing compared to the dull grey of, say, Bad Company. But as much as renegade Bruce fans point to this as much more interesting than his later, more commercial work, he hadn't mastered the art of songwriting yet, and most of these songs rely on atmosphere and breathy, impassioned vocals instead of melodies. "New York City Seranade", in particular, tries to be beautiful but never hits any great notes. Props to the Boss, though, for coming up with my favorite song of all time: I later found out that "Incident On 57th Street" is structurally ripped off of CSN's "49 Bye Bye's", but there's not another piece of music in the world that captivates me like the roaring crescendo at the end of that beautiful mini-opera. There are other fun songs, especially "Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)", but nothing else on the album makes me care nearly as much. It's interesting as a portrait of a fun, sleazy place and time that may never have existed, but the songs haven't held up as well as the vibe.
* * * * * Bruce Springsteen: Born to Run (1975)--I don't understand the people who spit on the hype and downgrade Born to Run. It continually amazes me, as a walking tape, as a driving tape, as a fulfillment of rock's promises. The songs build to swaying, roaring crescendos, with direct melodies, passionate singing, and the brilliant fusion of Phil Spector's effeminite intricacy and a heavy rock guitar. It's pure musical joy disguised as a bleak statement. It's a huge picture painted with really bright colors; if you make the mistake of turning away, you're missing out on the rare record that sets its own lofty terms and completely succeeds on them. I've read the raves, I've heard that it's overrated, but no album gives me as many pure thrills as this one. Cruising down 301 at night, going 65 miles per hour with the windows down and listening to "Thunder Road" actually made me enjoy driving. I shiver during "10th Avenue Freeze-Out", scream along to "Backstreets" and "She's The One", and sit in awe as "Born To Run" blasts out of the speakers. If you don't dig the man's bombast, it might seem stupid to you, and there is a bit of boredom and condescension scattered amidst the greatness. But he matches the bombast with songs that deserve it; if you can step into his world, the album will take hold of you and put you on a ride that leaves you in gaping amazement.
* * * 1/2 Bruce Springsteen: Darkness On The Edge Of Town (1978)--This is where the Boss's pretensions start to exceed his grasp again. Whereas on Born To Run, he crafted big, beautiful shots of power, here he's singing conventional songs with the same roaring grasp at meaning. If anyone can pull that off, it's Bruce, and he gives it his all, wheezing his vocals at the limits of his range, playing squealing guitar and screaming at you that each song is Important. Unfortunately, his muse isn't on fire this time around, and as big as some of these songs are, most just don't connect with me -- not only that, but "Adam Raised A Cain", for all its passion, is downright ugly. I don't know the technicalities of melody, so I can't explain why an anthemic song like the title track doesn't do much for me...it just doesn't. On the other hand, when the songwriting is as good as the sheer gumption of the idea, it really connects: "Badlands" and "The Promised Land" show why, despite his cheesiness and simpleminded vision of rock and roll, Bruce Springsteen is loved by millions. Simple, catchy, and powerful, they make this enjoyable but flawed album absolutely worth buying.
* * * * 1/2 Bruce Springsteen: The River (1980)--I love this album. I have since the first time I listened to it, and by the second time, I'd memorized most of the songs. How's that for effective? I'm not even a diehard fan, but I'm glad I can appreciate what the man has crafted here. If you want to nitpick, this is a collection of dumbed-down rockers and melodramatic ballads, and they all sound the same. "Sherry Darling" is "Jackson Cage" is "Two Hearts"..."Independence Day" is "I Wanna Marry You," and so on. But if "Sherry Darling" rocks the house and "Independence Day" is wrenchingly beautiful...then, well, you do the math. There's precious little depth: "You Can Look (But You Better Not Touch)" is pretty damn stupid, but it also knocks my socks off with a breakneck pace and a stringing guitar solo. Bruce can rock, Bruce is also sensitive, he doesn't show much stylistic variety, but damn does he mean what he sings. I'm giving him a break here: it all sounds the same, but at least he bothered to tweak with the music and lyrics on each song -- it's all fun and/or beautiful ("Hungry Heart," a straightforward pop song, makes me want to bawl my eyes out), and he's a master at playing with your moods. Creativity, variety, and experimentation certainly have their places in music, but for once, I'm giving it up for someone who can make an entertaining, consistently engaging album that's 90 minutes long. Let's call The River an exception to every rule; I can't imagine any fan of Springsteen's late-period "dumbed-down" style not liking this.
* * Bruce Springsteen: Nebraska (1982)--See CosmicBen's Bitter Libs.
* * * * 1/2 Bruce Springsteen: Born in the USA (1984)--Not perfect by a long shot, but damn near close to perfect-sounding, this is full of glossy production and endless hooks that tend to mask the brainlessness of the music. That said, several of the songs are absolute classics: the gut-wrenching title track, the short, haunting "I'm On Fire," and "My Hometown," a wistful ode to innocence that gives me chills every time I hear it. On a slightly lesser level, there are the massive radio hits "Dancing In the Dark" and "Glory Days," each full of danceable but bombastic hooks that will probably trap you just like Bruce intended. Finally, there's my favorite, "Darlington County," with a great singalong "Sha la la..." chorus, cowbell intro, and mind-numbingly dumb lyrics and melody. The rest of the tracks are solid and interchangeable, with generic driving beats and generic catchy choruses that you can't help but enjoy. See the contradiction? This album is so commercial that you can only wonder where the earlier Bruce is, the one who at least masked his lack of introspection with loads of sincerity. Now he's been replaced by someone who knows exactly what the public wants and what the critics will drool over, and has no qualms about delivering it wrapped in an ultra-patriotic American flag. Sure, he's decrying the "American Dream" inside, but he knows what the red, white, and blue will do for his record sales. You'll eat it up, just like millions of others (including me) did, but don't be prepared to be challenged in the least by this tuneful sellout of an album.
* * Bruce Springsteen: Tunnel Of Love (1987)--Springsteen allegedly grew up on this album, presenting a mature view of love and relationships in contrast to the youthful strut of albums like The River. The problem is that I can't pay attention to the lyrics when the music is bland and glossy in the best 80's tradition. On Born In The USA, ballsy synth lines helped imprint songs like "Glory Days" into my consciousness; this time around, the atmospheric washes drown the songs before they even have a chance to matter. Perhaps a better criteria is this: The River contains fifteen songs that absolutely enthrall me, but I wouldn't play anything from Tunnel Of Love if I wanted to convert a nonbeliever. The catchy "Brilliant Disguise" is as close as he gets to greatness, but it's also distressingly formulaic; other melodies have their moments but they're more like forgettable lullabyes than enjoyable rock songs. Like with Neil Young, I expect more from Bruce; maybe I'm being overly harsh, but this sincere, pleasant album means absolutely nothing to me.
* * 1/2 Bruce Springsteen: Human Touch (1992)--Human Touch is a blatant attempt at the same middle-of-the-road, single-synth-riff, verse-chorus-verse formula that made Bruce a superstar with Born In The USA. He misses the mark, though, because the riffs are unmemorable, the choruses are far from catchy, and the rhythm section of Randy Jackson and Jeff Porcaro is slick and tepid. While I'm at it, the production is muddy, the lyrics range from cliched generalities to cliched personal sentiments, and the arrangements are boring (to name a few things). The result is Bruce Springsteen at his most generic, with only a few songs rising above the sludge: the crashing keyboard rocker "Roll Of The Dice" (written around a brilliant Roy Bittan piano riff), the passionately-sung "Man's Job", and the tender acoustic standard "Pony Boy". He still sings like nobody else -- raging and tender as the syllable demands -- and after a dozen listens, ballads like "I Wish I Were Blind" and rockers like "Gloria's Eyes" can be quite affecting. And not being a bunch of boring-ass acoustic numbers, the songs are all momentarily engaging. But it's sad to hear one of my favorite artists trying hard to be great and inexplicably forgetting how.
* * Bruce Springsteen: Lucky Town (1992)--Lucky Town was released on the same day as Human Touch and presents the other side of a man who has completely lost his muse. By now, he's stopped trying and just pumps out one glossy rocker after another. The verse melodies are annoyingly minimal and the choruses, while catchy, are cookie-cutter: "it takes a leap of faith", "he was a local hero", "these are better days", all of them burned into your soul with meaningful female backing vocals, big chorused guitars, and not a note out of place. Even his patented vocal gurgles blend in with everything else. The one truly touching song, "If I Should Fall Behind", has the exact same melody as Human Touch's "I Wish I Were Blind"; the echoey "The Big Muddy" is more interesting than the other songs but even less memorable. If Human Touch was forgettable, it still thrilled me to hear Bruce Springsteen give the crappy songs his all; on Lucky Town, the sub-Mellencamp nuggets stick in your brain but leave your soul untouched and empty.
* * * * 1/2 Bruce Springsteen: The Rising (2002)--This is a simple album and yet I could already write a long, confused book about it. Some random thoughts, then: There's been enormous hype, uniformly positive reviews, surprisingly little word-of-mouth. The critics who say they love it have really spent years distancing themselves from albums so uncool, while the people who should love it haven't had a lot to say. It's supposed to heal us after September 11, but I think a lot of people are like me and weren't especially hurting after September 11....it was just too far away. On the other hand, the lyrics of "Into The Fire" really get to me, and I've never been a fireman's wife before. Some of the songs sound like they could be about anything, not just September 11, but for a few hastily tweaked lines. The instrumental mix is undeniably powerful but also muddled, with no individual sounds rising above the mix, save a few nice guitar solos....if I was E-Street bassist Gary Tallent, I'd feel gypped about barely being on the album. And hey, if the E-Street Band is so important, how come they don't share the billing? Some of the songs are artistically lazy, built on simple, effective riffs and never deviating. The opening verses to "Mary's Place" and "Countin' On A Miracle" sound alike and quite similar to the opening verse of "Atlantic City". But I love the whole thing. There isn't a bad song on here, just a few slightly dull ones, and the number of powerful singalongs and affecting ballads among the fifteen tracks is staggering. Everything seems a little shaky, but Bruce absolutely puts it across; "My City Of Ruins" could be cheesy gospel but it's done perfectly, and nearly every other song will get you in some way. It's weird, but the album seems almost too good to have come out so soon after 9/11. It follows a formula well, but it's still a formula....I keep waiting for more artistic shortcuts to become clear, and that's why I'm not ready to brand The Rising an all-time classic yet. But I can guarantee that if you put it on, you're in for a hell of a listen.
* * 1/2 Bruce Springsteen: We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions (2006)--Bruce is better than this. He'll tell you it's a trifle, a collection of folk songs popularized by Pete Seeger, recorded with a bunch of fiddlin' strangers over a few days. That's laziness in art's clothing, but I'm willing to meet my hero on his own terms and say that this helium-light album could still be better. God bless our straw-chewin' forefathers, but they weren't composing on the level of Brian Wilson or Paul McCartney, or even Bruce Springsteen. Bruce could have easily written a dozen songs with more gripping melodies and believable characters than these one-note sad sacks. He could also have sung with passion instead of the ugly country twang he's adopted as his "populist" voice. Bruce is one of the great belters of our time, but only on the wacky standard "Old Dan Tucker" does he take things all the way. Did Blacks end segregation by looking around nervously and whispering "We Shall Overcome"? Similarly, as breezily fun as The Seeger Sessions is, will anyone in a few years care that it existed?
* 1/2 Squeeze: Babylon And On (1987)--As I review this colossally bad album, I'm going to allow Katie to chirp in with periodic comments. Normally such comments would make her seem overly negative, but I can assure you that they're totally deserved. "It's so bad!" Yeah. I like Squeeze a lot, but this album was just not necessary. There's nothing outwardly bad about it; just twelve identically faceless songs with sterile 80's production and no discernible melodies. "Ugh!" Word. Glenn Tilbrook's voice, capable of gentle soulfulness, only emphasizes the innocuous nature of the music. "What the hell is this song about?" She's talking about "Some Americans", which is bland and rambles, but she could have been referencing "Hourglass", the manic hit that is all catchy and no enjoyable. "The Prisoner" has the most energy on the album, but it has a similar lack of melody and grit. "What are you trying to do to me?" Nothing, dear. I wouldn't be listening to this myself if I didn't have such a strong committment to warning my readers before they make the same music-buying mistakes I have. "Uggggghhhhhhhh!!"
* * * 1/2 Squeeze: Frank (1989)--I was never big into death metal, but lately I've found my listening tastes becoming softer and softer as I just search for some peace after work. A few years ago I might have had no patience for an album like this, being low-energy and hookless, but now it soothes my sensibilities like a cup of warm soy milk. Glenn Tilbrook and Chris Difford's songs are hookless not in the over-obvious Elvis Costello sense but in a drawn-out, relaxed, and thoroughly endearing manner, with clever lyrics and subtle melodies taking the place of immediacy. Simple pleasures abound: the crashing, anthemic fade of "If It's Love", the delicate "She Doesn't Have To Shave", the closing wall-of-jangle on Difford's "Love Circles", the twisting almost-choruses of "Rose I Said" and "(This Could Be) The Last Time". Even less melodic and just as happy are Difford's bouncy "Slaughtered, Gutted and Heartbroken" and pianist Jools Holland's swinging "Dr. Jazz". There are no great songs on Frank, but it's still gotten under my wrinkly skin.
* * * Squeeze: Play (1991)--Not as quirky as Frank or as ear-bludgeoningly demonic as Babylon And On, Play is a cozy, heartfelt record that could benefit from a little ego. The record has been called overproduced, and the layers of synths and strummed acoustic guitars, combined with plodding drums, can make for a dreary listening experience. But hidden in Play are some of the band's prettiest choruses, drawn out but shimmering. Tilbrook is at his most loving and soulful, and when he's interpreteing Difford's mature lyrics it's more endearing than overproduced rock has the right to be. The band is as square as ever, leaving catchy songs like "Sunday Street" as far from gut-shredding rock and roll as can be. Still, there are several heartfelt winners like the yearning "Letting Go", the warm "Satisfied", and (especially) the quietly joyous "The Day I Get Home". The downside is that the choruses are buried in the mix and in unexceptional verses; Tilbrook sneaks in, breaks your heart, and then disappears for three long minutes at a time. Squeeze is the ultimate quiet, thoughtful and unpretentious band; I only wish they'd stand up and shout once in a while.
* * * 1/2 Rod Stewart: The Rod Stewart Album (1969)--I always make a stink about music that sounds like it was performed on a computer: it's tinny, inhuman, and has all the staying power of a slap bracelet. So what's my ideal instrumental blend, you wonder? What kind of music do I actually enjoy? Boy, are you at the wrong website...
Ahem. If you want the answer, buy The Rod Stewart Album. It's exactly how I like music to sound. The drums are powerful and shuffling, the guitars scraggly and visceral, and the vocalist has a genuine gritty presence. The band plays around simple, effective riffs, throws in some short solos, and generally has a blast playing music. Halfway through "I Wouldn't Change A Thing", the producer jumps in and starts singing with Rod and it sounds totally natural, like everybody is just having a good time. Stewart famously wrote most of these songs, but they're uniformly unmemorable, just vehicles for Ron Wood and his gang to pick and bash away at. And that's fine! "Blind Prayer" is a boring blues at heart but it's delivered with such passion that I don't care. Normally I can't stand non-songs, but you'll marvel at how Stewart and Co. shove these non-songs in your face until you can't help but groove along.
* * * 1/2 Rod Stewart: Gasoline Alley (1970)--Rod Stewart has the most perfectly competent voice in rock and roll. His interpretations don't affect me emotionally, but his phrasing is just right and his energy can make the most pedestrian material engaging and even exciting. Combined with the loose scraggle of his band, he can deliver some of the most satisfying rock music I've ever heard. He puts the tuneless, original folk ballads "Lady Day" and "Jo's Lament" across with gritty acoustic picking straight out of the 1800's. "You're My Girl" isn't much of a song either, but Ron Wood's chunky bass creates an exciting groove and Stewart throws in a fun, buried vocal. He and Wood also team up to write the album's one classic, "Gasoline Alley": Stewart drips with nostalgia on the vocals while Wood and mandolin player Stanley Matthews create a tingly backdrop without the benefit of a rhythm section. They also shine on Dylan's "Only A Hobo", but I'm past the point where I give anybody credit for covering Dylan. Gasoline Alley is kind of a hodge-podge of decent songs, but Stewart and Co. were on such a roll at this point that you're not likely to care.
* * * * Rod Stewart: Every Picture Tells A Story (2002)--Rod is still working a formula, but that's fine 'cause it's probably my all-time favorite formula. The songwriting is better this time, too: Stewart folks out on his gorgeous 19th-century throwback "Mandolin Wind", and the #1 hit "Maggie Mae" is still a blast to listen to. The Stewart/Wood title track is a ferocious rocker and one of his best, driven by Rod's attention-grabbing lyrics and Mick Waller's virtuosic thumpage. And the notes Rod reaches on the snippet of "Amazing Grace" are among his most affecting vocals. The low points are fun but melodically flat: the dirge "Seems Like A Long Time" and the rockin' covers of "That's All Right" and "(I Know) I'm Losing You". Dylan's "Tomorrow Is A Long Time" gets a warm reading that sounds like a few friends singing around a campfire, but you know my policy about covering Dylan. If this isn't the masterpiece it often gets called (there's mediocrity in the melodies, fun as they might be), it's still a consistently engaging rock album and possibly the high point in the career of a great singer.
* * * Rod Stewart: When We Were The New Boys (1998)--Rod's twentieth album is his big return to rock and roll after years of synth-pop. A year ago I would have welcomed this, but then I started listening to Gainesville's 80's station, and now I love "Young Turks" and "Some Guys Have All The Luck". I'm not happy about it, but it happened and we all have to accept it. Given that, did Rod Stewart need to return to rock and roll? Even more importantly, does rock and roll still need Rod Stewart? Rod produced the album, and there's barely a synth to be found (which I swear still makes me happy). The rockers, like Noel Gallagher's "Cigarettes And Alcohol", are punchy and driven by honest-to-goodness guitars. The ballads, though sappy, prove that Rod hasn't lost a step vocally. In fact, on songs like Ronnie Lane's "Ooh La La", his voice is even more affecting than on those 60's folk ballads. Everything is competent and pleasant, but even the hardest-rocking songs lack purpose and vitality It's a respectable imitation of rock, but also a calculating one. Will he ever play any of these songs on tour? Does the world need an enjoyable, eminently forgettable record by a dinosaur who promises to bring absolutely nothing new to the genre? A three-dollar price tag bought my loyalty, but is anyone else still listening?
* * * 1/2 Stephen Stills: Manassas--Stephen Stills has always been my least favorite member of CSN, probably because he just seems like a humorless bastard. He can be a great songwriter: just check out CSN's debut for proof of his ability to hit you with a simple, effective melody. On Manassas, though, that talent for songwriting seems to have taken a vacation -- generally, it's hookless, riffless rock music, and you can tell that the best songs are simply mediocre tunes augmented by creative arrangements and facile genre-hopping. And you know, normally, I really, really hate that -- it always smells like a giant coverup, one that's only apparent when it's impossible to remember the songs later. But Steve lays it on the line here, making everything rely on his band's sound, and damn it, it's a delicious sound -- rich and varied, with honkey-tonk piano, dizzying steel guitar, gruff, soulful lead vocals, and heavenly harmonies courtesy of the Byrds' Chris Hillman. I love picturing the seven band members having a blast while playing this, all of them anonymously contributing their parts to the messy, life-affirming mix. I could take or leave half of these 21 songs, but that doesn't mean I hate them when they're playing -- the mood never dips below "pleasant," and eventually, most of the choruses do get under your skin. For me, the focal point is the second side (of four original vinyl sides): subtitled "The Wilderness", it's endearing country rock, with the bizarre protest song "Fallen Eagle", the envigorating "Colorado", and my favorite, the gorgeous dirge "Jesus Gave Love Away For Free." Elsewhere, there's a fine gutbucket blues ("Jet Set (Sigh)"), and some great rock 'n' roll ("What To Do", "The Treasure"). Most of these tracks only work in the context of the album-long statement -- but hey, it's an awfully pretty statement, and you could do a lot worse. PS Thanks to Katie, who bought me a new copy after I discovered that my $4 miracle bargain-bin copy was all scratched up.
* * * 1/2 Sting: The Dream Of The Blue Turtles (1984)--Am I getting old? I complain a lot -- mostly about prices -- I'm tired all the time, and my listening tastes are getting softer and softer as time drags on. I mean, I've always hated death metal, but maybe Sting is taking things a bit far. See, I like this album because it's mellow. It doesn't hit hard. It doesn't offend my sensibilities or rattle my walker. The choruses are pretty (especially "We Work The Black Seam"!) and the players are competent and jazzy. A few songs are wanky vamps without a melody, but most of them are creative (if not hard-hitting) and a lot of fun. "Love Is The Seventh Wave" is fun. The two big hits that bookend the album aren't very well-structured, but they both have great moments. Even "Russians", which at first seemed pretentious and laughable, eventually started to seem intense and meaningful. See, even when he's wussing out, Sting remains a talented and interesting musician. Maybe that's why I like the album. Maybe that's why my hand keeps reaching to download "Desert Rose" from Audiogalaxy, and I keep having to slap it down. Why my ears perk up when I see informercials for Zamfir, Master of the Pan Flute -- and for such a low price, too! ...help me, please?
* * * * * The Stone Roses (1989)--It's quite beautiful outside: overcast but not threatening, cold but not unbearable, yummy and smile-inducing. I'm glad my computer is next to the window, because I'd hate to waste a day like this. I'm taking it easy, writing, breathing in the air... I miss Katie a lot, but I just walked and I've got the Stone Roses on my CD player -- I feel good, you know? Awkwardly digressing, I'd like to say that this is a wonderful CD. The group has a gorgeous sound, dreamy but energetic, with warm guitar tones and lulling vocals. It's enough to coast on, but the Roses inexplicably add some of the most beautiful chorsues I've ever heard. It's sometimes lightweight, but never artistically lacking: I'm amazed that any band could come out of nowhere and create an album this good. Almost every moment works, especially "This Is The One", which is one of those rare songs that reminds me why I love listening to music more than bargain-hunting for it (I think) -- positively euphoric. The backwards song is gimmicky, and I could do without the aimless nine-minute closer "Fool's Gold", but it wraps up an album that was a classic from the moment it was released. I can't explain how they tapped into timeless beauty and then disappeared an album later, but the result is absolutely worth experiencing.
* * * 1/2 Sugar: Copper Blue (1992)--Sugar's first album is a study in contradictions: Husker Du frontman Bob Mould is in a new band but writes all the songs and buries his bassist in the mix; his deadly sincere singing is his main selling point, but you can barely hear it for all the guitars; and despite being more talented and amibitious than anyone on VH1's Top Ten, he indulges himself with a lot of dull hard rock bluster. Half the time, it seems like his pounding rhythm guitar and jangly twelve-string are fighting eachother for prominence, and Mould can't decide which suits him best. Kiddies, this is a concept review now. If it weren't for the crackle in Mould's voice and some heavenly pop-tinged songwriting, he would sound exactly like some brooding flavor of the month who thinks that loud guitars can substitute for creativity. As it is, though, it's pretty damn cathartic: almost every song has crashing dynamics and a wrenching, refreshing honety....on "The Slim", it sounds like he's about to start crying through his rage. The one break is the thrilling acoustic chestnut "If I Can't Change Your Mind", firm and vulnerable at the same time. Everything else sounds the same, with the clever, cleansing melodies easily outweighing the crap. And that's the biggest contradiction of them all. Wait, that made no sense.
* * * * 1/2 Sugar: Beaster (1993)--Most people see this as Sugar's throwaway, but I think it's their masterpiece. Mould takes six leftovers from the Copper Blue sessions, douses them in hypnotic guitar swirls, and puts everything he has into the vocals. With no breaks between tracks, the end result is a hard rock opera that takes you on a half-hour ride through Mould's desperation, rage, disillusionment, and heartbreak. The loud guitars give the compositions punch, and the melodies give the hard rock cliches credibility. Mould draws you in with the haunting mantra "Come Around", climaxes with the blistering religious confusion of "JC Auto", and deflates everything with the ethereal pump-organ sadness of "Walking Away". A million misguided rockers have proven that anyone can yell at the top of their lungs; Mould brings genuine sadness and regret to his rage, and the result is more than believable: it's harrowing.
* * * Sugar: File Under Easy Listening (1994)--It's Copper Blue part deux, and Mould sacrifices the relentless power of Sugar's first disc in favor of a softer hard-rockin' sound. As usual, with less chances taken the album is more consistent but lacking the blow-you-away high points of Blue. In fact, most songs sound like slightly subpar copies of earlier triumphs: "Gift"="The Act We Act", "Believe What You're Saying"="If I Can't Change Your Mind", etc. Mould pulls off something amazing, though, with the exuberantly sad "Gee Angel"...the lyrics contradict this, but I always hear it as an apology that he can't follow his dead lover into heaven, and it gets me every time. Also, for a guy with such a stereotypically gruff baritone buried under guitars, Mould is a master at expressing heartbreak: on "Explode And Make Up", he sounds like he's about to start crying again. What is it about a strong man showing sensitivity that affects me and exploits my subconscious contempt for all things unmasculine? I mean, I don't think I'd care nearly as much if Fred Schneider was getting weepy... I don't like it, but it does explain a lot of my musical preferences. Anyway, such brilliant psychology still can't make the album great because there are too many middle-of-the-road rockers, and without interesting melodies everything gets buried under the guitars. Easy Listening is a fine end to Sugar's career, but it could still use a shot of personality and a willingness to be heard above the din.
* * * 1/2 The Supremes: Where Did Our Love Go? (1964)--The third biggest-selling act of the sixties, and their original albums are still only available in dusty vinyl bins. Thus, I'm working from a dubbed copy of a scratchy vinyl record on an RCA boombox: I'd love to comment on James Jamerson's basslines, but I can't even hear them. The melodies come in fine, though: if you can stand to listen to corny Motown music, this is an excellent collection of tunes, carried by Diana Ross's piercing, classy vocals and Earl Van Dyke's tinkly piano playing. There are a few nondescript songs, but a bunch of them are phenomenal: the title track, "Baby Love," and "Come See About Me" are all classics, with fast-paced arrangements and instantly catchy choruses; "When The Lovelight Starts Shining In His Eyes" is a booming, echoey rocker with a token "huaaghh!" from the Four Tops; and a few album tracks like "Long Gone Lover" and "A Breath Taking Guy" feature deep group vocals and choruses almost as catchy as on the hits. You might find Diana's vocal on "Standing At The Crossroads Of Love" jarring, and "Ask Any Girl" is pure Broadway kitch, but almost nothing else on here is offensive: it's all enjoyable, if sometimes generic, Supremes music, punctured with quirky sax solos and inventive percussion. Don't let 35 years of radio saturation stop you from enjoying the hits; I still find them as impressive today as they must have been in 1964, with timeless melodies from Holland-Dozier-Holland that I don't think will ever get old. Truthfully, the best tracks are available on any greatest hits album, but the rest is fun, and if you're a 60's pop fan, you won't regret blowing the dust off and spinning this record now and again.