The frontman of Cheyenne, Beau Jennings, has released this crop of tunes as a solo album because they allegedly did not fit with the sound of his main project.
BEAU JENNINGS
HOLY TULSA THUNDER
Murkville Music
2008-07-08
In honesty there is little difference between these songs and Cheyenne songs. In execution they have perhaps a more southern boogie/Americana feel sounding at times like Neil Young channeling Lynyrd Skynyrd. Jennings’ voice has the timbre of Jeff Tweedy. Overall, this is a fine collection if alt-country is your thing. There are some fine examples of said genre included on this recording. Take “Girl From Oklahoma” for instance, a song that was born in the country but has gotten used to living in the city. It looks back to a time when things were simpler, when fun could be found by hunting down a “strange old bar” and having a few drinks. The claim on the press notes is that this is a drinking album and this is quite true. A bottle of sour mash, a sunny day, and this record would make fine bar-fellows indeed.
This review originally wasted the time of popmatters.com
Lisa Cerbone has a gentle, childlike voice and with We Were All Together she has created an album that is somewhat evocative of Tanya Donelly or Kristin Hersh.
LISA CERBONE
WE WERE ALL TOGETHER
Ocean Music
2008-04-08
Every aspect of this package — from the case with its lyric adorned fine art photo cards to the crystal clear production — is finely crafted and exudes quality. One wonders why this lady is not more well known as this is her fourth release in the last eight years. We Were All Together is a collection of ten melancholy vignettes held against backdrop of stark hush. Cerbone tingles the spine of the listener with this intimate and quite beautiful recording. This quality is most evident in tunes such as “Change the Ending” and the opening track “Humming”. This record is of course not for everyone. It tends to be a little over-serious at times and leaves you feeling quite bereft once it is over. This last point also one of the positive aspects of this CD. After all if art does not engage you then what is the use of it?
This miniature review was originally published on popmatters.com
It is a sad day when you have to consider the possibility that you are old and no longer understand young people’s music. To this reviewer Mud’s Yearbook contains 13 songs that, with one exception, all sound identical. The album appears like it was created by the corpses of Real Big Fish with the ska influences ripped forcibly from their cold dead hands fronted by Avril Lavigne. It is Californian punk by checklist; repetitive riff… check, amusing self deprecating lyrics… check, brass section… check. I could go on.
One song stands out because it dares to be different. “Psycho” could easily be from a film soundtrack (I’ll leave the cynics among you to say that it is deliberately targeting such a market). With a lush orchestra arrangement it comes over like a Bond theme, only with less subtlety. It really is quite bombastic and audacious, even if it doesn’t really appear to have a chorus. However, after the chorus overload of the rest of the album it comes as a welcome reprieve. This song is worth the price of a single-track download but the rest of the album doesn’t really do anything remarkable. Or maybe I just don’t get “young people’s music” anymore.
This review was originally posted to popmatters.com
Space Miami Terrace is one of those “you had to be there” recordings. It is a two CD, 22-track mixed compilation of dance tracks from the Yoshitoshi, Yo! and Shinichi labels. All tracks are mixed together by DJ Cedric Gervais. It stomps along at quite a pace. By listening to the album alone one can only imagine the heat that would be generated by the sweaty bodies dancing to these tunes. Sadly, without being there you don’t really get the feel for most of these recordings. In the end you are left with over two hours of repetitive beats. These are best heard in a dark sweaty club or blasting from the windows of a boy racer’s car as he waits at the traffic lights. The second of the CDs is the more memorable even if only for George Morel & SPJ’s “Let’s Take Drugs” with its humorous use of George W. Bush samples. I suspect that this joke would wear a little thin after a while. Also in the second set and more memorable is Meck Feat. Dino’s ” Feels Like Home (Dave Audé Remix)” with its ever-present sample from Duran Duran’s “Save a Prayer”.
This review was originally posted on popmatters.com
The trouble with not keeping in touch with old acquaintances is that they sometimes move on without you. They grow and form new opinions, new tastes, and new ways of expressing themselves. Then, when you finally catch up with them, they are barely recognisable. You find it hard to really fully get what it is that they mean. You forget what it was that you saw in them in the first place. The French Kicks first came to the attention of this reviewer around 2001 while they were promoting their Young Lawyer. Alan McGee (founder of Creation Records, sadly swallowed up by a corporation and Poptones, sadly defunct at the behest of Mr. McGee) had just signed them in the UK, and they were on the verge of becoming big news in the world of indie music. They completely owned the stage that night. Drummer and lead vocalist Nick Stumpf sat tall in centre stage, presiding over the audience. Their brand of quirky New York post-punk pop reverberated around a rather small but relatively well-attended and sweaty hall in an unheard-of British town.
Flash-forward through time to 2008, and when we catch up with the French Kicks, the years have mellowed them. No strangeness there — time must take its toll on all things, after all. What is interesting is how they have changed. Swimming kicks off with all the quirk of a latter-day Talking Heads record. The opening track, “Abandon”, floats rather than swims from the speakers. The close vocal harmonies wash over the syncopated drum patterns and guitar parts. It has a dreamlike quality. Again, more like being in a floatation tank than in a swimming pool. There are no obvious hooks, but somehow through something akin to Chinese water torture, the song gets under your skin. Three songs in, and that Talking Heads feeling has firmly got a grip with “Carried Away”. This song could easily have been lifted from True Stories.
Swimming tries hard — practically every song has a good beginning, middle, and end — but the parts in between do little to spark the imagination. The main problem is that the album appears to only have one solid idea for a song. Up-tempo drums, sound-effect-like guitar parts, and close harmonies with no hooks or catchy chorus to be found. The formula is repeated over and over, not unlike the aforementioned water torture. The result is unfortunately not something that instantly grabs you. As a listener you are constantly let down after a good set-up. For example, “Sex Tourists” starts well with a simple fat drum sound, heavy on the high hat, and then guitar and bass come in, both flattening out the groove. They are then followed by some of the wettest vocals ever committed to an album. This particular tourist would be asking for a refund. What may have been an attempt to sound languid and sexy just ends up sounding like an effort from a whiny teenager who needs to get a girlfriend.
There are glimpses of earlier glories, “The Way You Arrive” and ” New Man” hint at the French Kicks’ post-punk quirkiness (if I may use such a lame expression), but what ruins the effect again is the falsetto vocal performance of Nick Stumpf. Swimming is a complex and layered record that instrumentally shines, but appears to swamp Mr Stumpf in the process. The production values of this record compete for primacy with the songs, and one cannot help but feel that the pudding has been somewhat over-egged. In the old days, the listener experienced a certain rawness when they put on a release by this New York outfit. This edge was still evident on the 2006 release Two Thousand, but is totally absent here. More is the pity.
Swimming is really too damp to catch a spark, but could quite easily find a home nicely in the background somewhere of a candle lit wine bar or other chilled venue. For a band that showed so much fire and promise less than a decade ago, this is a great disappointment. In that short time they have moved on and grown up, and in growing up they have changed their priorities. People move on, and tastes that were once perfectly aligned with yours can jar, especially if you don’t keep in touch.
This review was originally posted on popmatters.com
Lissa Schneckenburger’s Song is a cheerful array of old school folk tunes with the emphasis on the fiddle and quality vocal performance — a mixture of self-composed work and traditional songs from the New England area of the United States. She claims that region’s traditional tunes are somewhat ignored. What she has unearthed here are some real gems. Schneckenburger is modeled from the same plasticine as of Alison Krauss. Her voice is so sweet that it draws you in and blends well with her fiddle playing. She creates a certain intimacy with her warm tones that engages the listener. This is especially handy with tunes such as these because most of them (as with a lot of traditional folk tunes) are tales to be spun. One can easily imagine Schneckenburger playing her songs with a small group of regulars in a pub. All of them huddled around a fire to keep warm while it is howling a gale outside, but hanging on her every word. While Song is probably not breaking any new ground or likely to win a Grammy it is lovely to discover that someone is keeping this charming music alive.
The Posies were a power-pop outfit from Washington State that didn’t so much set the world on fire as give it a nasty Chinese burn. They did, however, produce some mighty fine tunes and at least one classic album, Frosting On the Beater. (The two remaining original members, Jon Auer and Ken Stringfellow, are also at least as famous for being instrumental in the reformation of Big Star.) The clumsily titled Beautiful Escape… Is Coming Right Along is a seven track sampler of the forthcoming 45 track (3 CD) album containing cover versions spanning the entire career of The Posies. Homage albums such as this often provide new and interesting takes on the source material. Unfortunately, that cannot be said of this release. The artists on this selection do have a good crack at the songs but hardly any of them do anything that might be deemed original. Of the seven tracks present on this CD only Darling Cait’s version of “Precious Moments” and Jim Protector’s “Coming Right Along” really stand up to any scrutiny. The others just sound like pale imitations rather than the intended tribute. The fact that three of the tunes on this collection come from Frosting On the Beater speaks volumes. While the full 3 CD set might tell a different story, this sampler showcases the songs of that greatest album by The Posies and suggests that you might be better off listening to that instead.
Recorded over ten weeks in the autumn of 2007, Ghosts I-IV is a departure in many ways for Nine Inch Nails mainstay Trent Reznor. No song titles, no record label, no lyrics. Until April 8th 2008 there is not even a physical album. The concept of this release, if not the content, is an exhibition in minimalism. If it had been released under any moniker other than Nine Inch Nails, it might not have achieved the same amount of attention (the volume of downloads on the first weekend of release broke the band’s website). In many ways it challenges what we know about the band, as it liberates Reznor’s skill at musical composition from his often trite lyrics.
Trent Reznor has always had an uncomfortable relationship with the organised religion that is the music industry. He has gone on record criticising his former label’s pricing policy, accusing them of ripping off the real fans. After parting company with them, the man decided to circumnavigate the whole process and release a next-to-nothing priced download. Of course, a range of differently priced versions are also available, the most expensive is limited to 2500 copies and will set you back $300. Don’t bother looking for one. Before I’d even fired up the iMac to write this piece all copies of the Ultra Deluxe Limited package were long gone. Better luck with Ghosts V-VIII.
So what is it like? Ghosts I-IV is a tonal painting, a collection of moods and not all of these moods are good ones. If Ghosts I-IV was a landscape painting it would not be in the style of Bob Ross. There are no happy little accidents here. Reznor was not humming along to himself in a jolly, gentle, and beardy fashion while he took paint from his palette. It should come as no great surprise to anyone who has ever heard of Nine Inch Nails that this record shows us a landscape of dystopian design. Like a desert, it is bleak and unbearable for any length of time. However, it is strangely beautiful: littered with little pockets of hitherto undiscovered splendour, as well as unspeakable Lovecraftian creations from beyond the walls of sleep. I mean this is art, man.
A great deal of art provokes dramatic emotion and stimulates the human mind. Sometimes art can be elusive, hard to understand and is often challenging. Art varies in value according to the consumer and its worth lies in the wallet of the beholder. In these respects, Ghosts I-IV does not disappoint. At times the album is gentle, almost classical in nature. At other moments, it is a dance instrumental with industrial overtones. It can be ear-strippingly torturous with all kinds of distortion, drum loops, and found sounds, some barely making sense in your head. This album is a wonderful, if unsettling experience. It’s just not very Nine Inch Nails.
Ghosts I-IV uses the same scratchpad as Brian Eno and Robert Fripp, although in modern parlance it should properly be described as “Dark Ambient”. There are 36 tracks, but no songs. There are recurring themes, one of which echoes John Murphy’s score for the film 28 Days Later. Indeed, the album holds together in much the same way as a movie. There are four distinct acts. There is a gradual build as you are introduced to all the characters. There are action scenes, there are scenes of pathos.
Reznor has opened the gates to a world of new possibilities both commercially and creatively. He shows here that he is much more than the swagger and smut of some of his previous releases. He has made it clear to the world that he has real vision and dexterity. Lying in a darkened room with only this music for company conjures images of unimaginable beauty and horror. Ghosts I-IV could be the soundtrack to an unrealised film based on the works of H. P. Lovecraft. That is the tone; dark, brooding, (aw hell I’ve tried to go the whole review without saying it) haunting.
The review was originally posted on popmatters.com
Some people have been waiting since 1978 for a new Paul Stanley solo album. The last effort was the second best out of a batch of four solo albums that KISS did during a short hiatus from being the hottest band in the world. The Ace Frehley solo album was the surprising winner of that competition. Temporarily released from the tour shackles of “The Tribute Band Formerly Known as KISS” (TBFKK for short) Stanley announced a new album and tour. He stated quite clearly that this time he is doing it his way, with no compromise. Lapsed members of the KISS Army like myself perked up and waited with anticipation. Stanley certainly was the ringleader of the more pop period in KISStory, and this leads one to believe that he may have a finger on the pulse somewhere. I was hoping that drinking from the cup of Moloch has not left him artistically barren; particularly after that piece of musical doo-doo that his KISS colleague Gene Simmons released a couple of years ago. (Check out Simmons’ version of the Prodigy’s “Firestarter” for an example of cringing nonsense on par with your dad trying to dance “cool” at the family wedding.)
The album begins well in the sense that it sounds quite contemporary. Big fat Nu Metal guitars announce the opening track Live To Win, which really does rock albeit in a sub-Nickelback kind of way. This theme is carried forward for the next couple of tunes. Stanley’s 1980s pop rock sensibilities are masked to the point of obscurity, sounding somewhere between Linkin Park and Bon Jovi little brother. Then the third track cuts through with cheap sounding drum machine and cheesy synth-strings sounds coupled with the chorus from that KISS song that was a bonus track on the third or fourth “best of” album that was released in the later half of the 1980s. This is familiar territory for Paul. He is happiest here, I think, because he doesn’t really stray from this ground for the remainder of the album. It shouldn’t really come as any great surprise that a songwriter who has pretty much made a career out of churning out the same five songs over and over again may have run out of ideas. KISS were never about breaking boundaries, they were a great party band, and now they are their very own tribute band.
From the release notes Stanley would have us believe that he is doing his own thing and doesn’t want to compromise his creative talent anymore. A fine sentiment, and one that you cannot argue with. Cool Paul, go right ahead break your neck. Push the boat right out, perhaps bring in some new creative talent to counterpoint your own. After all, your last album was last century. What? Oh you’d rather use Desmond Child like you have done for the last 30 years; OK that’s fine too. Yes, of course you can write with Holly Knight again, I have no objections. Who is this new guy that you have brought in, a pop genius with his feet firmly in the 21st century no doubt? Nope, Andreas Carlsson, who was famous for penning tunes for some youngster called Britney Spears, a bunch of losers that went by the name Backstreet Boys, Hillary Duff (who?), and, ah surprise surprise, Bon Jovi. Way to do it your way, Paul.
The result is unfortunately a retread of everything you ever heard by KISS in the sans-make up period (think Hot in the Shade, where the songs were also co-written by Child and Knight). It is a fun but not very satisfying chunk of slick, over-chewed bubble gum. I say that like it is a bad thing, but in honesty it sometimes really isn’t. Messrs Stanley and Simmons have only really ever wanted to push the pop buttons and catch the pennies when they fall. They never made any secret about it. In their heyday they grabbed everything that they could, branded it with the KISS logo and sold it. Even the last Paul Stanley solo album was marketed so. Without the KISS banner to prance in front of, Stanley is making it all too obvious that he has nothing new to say.
I’m not sure that I should have expected anything different.
The review was originally posted on popmatters.com
