Oasis - Don't Believe the Truth

Epic/Sony BMG

The simple way to speak about Oasis is: First, talk about their drinking. Secondly, talk about the brotherly squabbles. Next, talk about their declining power in the pop arena. And, finally, throw in something about them stealing their riffs and songs from others. Sure, there are cuts on Don't Believe the Truth that sound absurdly familiar. But, there is the beauty of Oasis; distillation. Oasis is a great rehashing of the British High Pantheon of rock'n'roll deities. Chewing on the bits of David Bowie, the Kinks, and the Rolling Stones, digesting these musical nutrients, and, then, spitting out a distilled, easily swallowed version of these complexities, which is not easy. The ability for Oasis to lift the pulls, riffs and sounds of these shows that they are thinking, even if it is not easily heard.
Most American listeners have not spent the time with the real classic rockers of the sixties and seventies; if they had then Oasis would not have produced a great album. The album takes the sweeping epic nonsense of the indulgent "Wonderwall" and "Champagne Supernova," and transfigures it into a brash, fuzzy, and more simple method of delivery. "Part of the Queue," has a resemblance to the Stranglers. But, Noel Gallagher's words about a familiar space, the line in a grocers, and the alienation conveyed in the scant, almost belligerent lyricism works. Perhaps, that is what the problem is. Noel has a way of spitting truths in an overly conversational and emphatic mode, which causes most to dismiss the music.
Don't Believe the Truth stands as a minor triumph in Oasis' career. The album is not groundbreaking, or earthshattering, and surely it will not be a lauded as the ever so popular Brit-pop invasion darling records Definitely Maybe and (What's the Story)Morning Glory, but it has it moments. The listen from the opener "Turn Up The Sun" to the closer "Let There Be Love" is an exciting one. There are definite allusions to the Rolling Stones on "Lyla," and the heroin grind of the Velvet Underground makes track lines on "Mucky Fingers." There are also sharp conjunctions between their and the Kinks' sound on "The Importance of Being Idle." But, those allusions are lovingly done, and those bands are worthy of reference. Don't Believe the Truth is not hype. It is a great offering at the feet of far more enduring rock musicians. It is Nostalgic at times, but at least its not an emopopsicle. The album makes a great primer to the sounds that rock'n'roll novices may have missed, and manages to break out of the Beatles' shadow on the closer "Let There Be Love."

Plane - Hello More

Dirigeable

The setting of most records will come from the context that we listeners place them in. However, Hello More sets the listener under the drops of a falling rain. Then from those setting insinuations, a cookie-cutter beat casts away the clouds in favor of the clash of electricity. The electronic noises and beats of Plane on "Western Avenue" rush up to the beats per minutes where dancing will ensue, but it is a disassociated hustle. The organ skulks in the background, a sharp synth brandishes its analog pulses and the simple guitar notes make Plane's sound full. Swirling pinwheels of radiant keys array each of "Heart & Soul's" mock epic steps.
The first two songs thrust samples into Plane's mixture of muted tones and strings. "Heart & Soul" is an experiment, not a particularly complex one, but Plane is taking a risk. The gamble pays out a Kraftwerk-like sound that is different, if not enjoyable. "Please Save My Body From The Modern World" chirps in a pop torture dungeon, alighted with the Jonathan Richman (Look him up) snot reference in the title and the chorus. The song is worth the three minutes and fifty-five seconds. The twenty-nine second song "It's What I Like Dear" sounds as if it was left on an answering machine. That quality of recording is horrible, but the sentiment, and the method should be emulated. "Rope" is a surprisingly lucid interior conversation about the ruses and fears used in relationships. The cut hangs heavily in the confessional zone, but it is a bright breakup song; it's no "Crying in My Beer," but what is? The lo-fi "Adam," is a off-kilter strummer about the futility of talking to a women with the prettiest eyes. Its sentiment is a needed comment on the obsession with appearances, if only a bit repetitive. Plane entered the indy- rock and electro-clash lab, and left with two solidly worthy songs. That is to say, they are worthy of play on radio and in clubs. Behind the shadows of the solid buttresses of "Western Avenue" and "Heart & Soul," are scattered scraps, fragments and litter. Those leftover abominations are joys on "Hello More;" they make the electro-clash worth it.

Kem - Album II

Motown/Universal

Best New Album of the Week:
On the street below my apartment window, the cars drive by with rolled down windows. The leftover volume escapes through the car doors, and makes a B-line into my waiting curtains. My favorites are: the Five a.m. construction workers blasting "Why Can't We Be Friends?," the death metal mother, as I call her, in the pearl Escalade and a black, eighties Honda Accord two-door that consistently rattles with the bass of rhythm and blues. Its driver's seat filled by a dark figure, perpetually head rolling; bobbing is only for hip-hop. Kem is about the speed of that car's soundtrack. His second album exhibits the sultry and smoothed roll that is sure to find its way to my pillow, thanks to my friendly neighbor in the black Accord.
The trick to making it into the groove of KEM Album II is be sure to skip the opener "Find Your Way Back Into My Life." The cut's lyrical content delivers a somewhat relatable confessional space, but it fails to deliver Kem's voice correctly. He entangles himself in twisting vocal gymnastics. Trapped and singing, he just sounds trite and arrogant; listen to the intonation on "Gurrl." So, is he sunk? Not at all. "Heaven" is a smooth jazz Sunday afternoon with the grandparents that finds their liquor cabinet. The swaggering guitars and Kem's voice pull an early bird special beat into funky territory. Together they forge a sexy and emotionally fueled revelry. A very special guest, Mr. Stevie Wonder, appears on "You Might Win." The blind balladeer of beautiful music sits patientally until the two minute twenty-five second mark. Once put into action, Stevie's harmonica playing outshines the Kem vocals and just plain works it out. "I Get LIfted" pulses well, and is an affable treat. Kem Album II presents the many voices of Kem. He is a high toned skimmer on some, a syllable twister on others and, on the closer, a falsetto. These voices all convey the same sentiment; move it from the couch to the bedroom.

Peter Ulrich - Enter The Mysterium

City Canyons

To Enter the Mysterium we all must first pass through the chaos choir initiation, and its going to invoke some questions. The opener's somber tone levies the question, "Do You Know the Wise Man?" After the interrogation, the fields of the Mysterium bloom with kazoos, rattles and a rushing harmony. The music is reminiscent of the Dead Can Dance. This should be no surprise as Peter Ulrich is the former percussionist of that band. The music can be locked into these genres: world music, folk, and dark wave, but these are insufficient and do too much violence. The music of Ulrich is an anachronism, but is not a shy one. It is a confident reproduction of an obsolete way of making music.
"The Scryer And The Shewstone" lights the festivities with a meadow filled with Ulrich's percussive expanses and a great celebration of God and the angels. It references an early christian, psuedo-pagan feel. The willowy woodwinds of "Across the Bridge" stick out their tongues and laugh. The song delivers age-old knowledge through simple stanzas, and a story of telling a fortune on the river's edge. The roots of western music still dig at the earth in search of nutrients to give bloom to Peter Ulrich's delightfully anachronistic bouquet.

Fear Factory - Demanufacture

Roadrunner/Island Def Jam

In the mid-nineties, when tribes of music listeners frowned on the eclectic collection, a techno CD in your case could mean the end of your metalhood. Fear Factory changed all that nonsense. The metalheads had to adjust to the band that brought them such good headbanging. The sound of Fear Factory took the technology of electronic beats and programmed them under, over and in a heavy rush of glinting steel. Some thought the collision of silicone and steel would lead to a break down, but the inclusion of the influences of the Prodigy and the Meat Beat Manifesto, only tempered the heavy metal.
"Demanufacture" opens a door to a world inspired by personal pain, the LA riots and post apocalyptical scenes from the Terminator and Dune. When the tube pulsed out minute to minute coverage of the fires and the looters, the helicopters buzzing overhead and the smell of burnt plastic wafted on the winds, Fear Factory noticed that they and many in LA were desensitized. They had a cure for that numbness, a pounding blend of machine gun mow-down drum crescendos, trance bells, programmed gabber beats and calling vocals. "Self Bias Resistor" sends red tracers of guitars along with the lead from the drums to collide with Burton C Bell's call: "I have nothing left to regret." "Zero Signal" is a similarly focused song, which moves into a softer space. "Replica" soars into the place where the drums of Raymond Herrera have to fight with Bell for dominance. Fear Factory has produced an uncommonly heavy album. Their blend of fierce energy, sharp drums, intelligent programming and an unadulterated fortification of positive messages, No, seriously! "New Breed," among many others, is a gabber track with a big heavy metal tumor with a self help heart. Fear Factory's Demanufacture is a must have for the metal, hardcore techno, or even grindcore aficionado.

Hiroshima - Obon

Heads Up

With Obon, Hiroshima celebrates their crossing over into their second quarter of a century. Or simply, Happy Twenty-fifth anniversary Hiroshima! They have sold more than three million records in their prolific career, and they've done something even more important in the process: they have introduced a variety of traditional Asian instruments to a global audience, and integrated them seamlessly into a new music and art form. The Japanese koto, a zither-like, 13-stringed instrument, shakuhachi, a five holed bamboo flute, and the powerful taiko (which literally denotes "drum") combine with instruments of the Western Hemisphere to create their unique musical palette.
The impetus of the eleven Eastern inflected tracks on "Obon" derives from the Obon festivals of Japan. These jubilees spring up throughout Japanese cities and Los Angeles during July and August. Originating from a Buddhist tradition, Obon is a time to remember the ancestors, relatives and friends who have passed on to the final stage of life. Filled with reverence and gratitude, it is also an occasion to raise the spirit in celebration. The ensemble does well with the celebratory movements on "Swiss Ming" and "Atomic Cafe." The reverence and gratitude bloom on the moving tribute to Nelson Mandela, "Mr. Robben." Hiroshima has produced another in their long line of hemisphere hopping albums with Obon. Let's all hope they keep the Hiroshima spirit alive and well for a long time to come.

Blue Moon Rising - On The Rise

Lonesome Day

In the parts of the country where the tractors out number the Honda Civics, and crosses litter the fields, a blue moon is rising. The furrows and tree-lined lanes are pale in the shining bluegrass of Blue Moon Rising. They make sweet sounding back porch music. The banjo is fresh and alive on the harmony filled "This Old Martin Box." Keith Garret's mandolin leads "Papaw taught Me" with a plucking and ascending string movement. This song recounts the life of a man built like they donÕt build them anymore, as Papaw teaches Chris West "just how to be a man." The importance of a sustaining and warm relationship with a father figure comes through on the dobro resonance and the soft harmonies.
By the time the Moon rises to a quarter high in the sky, the moon turns blue. "The Next Big Thing," tells the tale of a blind person who has slashed love's stem and moved on to the next love. The tears will dry. "Modern Day Outlaw" grates with a high tempo rush through the country. There is a swinging chatter in the foreground and, then, Randall Massingill raises the roof on a crime through his tenor vocals. Blue Moon Rising's "On the Rise" is a bittersweet set of tunes and sentiments. The tunes are usually sweet, along with the harmonies, and the lyrics are often horseradish. But don't take my word for it; listen to Ricky Skaggs: "I first met Blue Moon Rising a few years ago and was immediately impressed with their talent...their new album is a great collection of bluegrass that I'm sure folks are going to enjoy."

GZR - Ohmwork

Sanctuary

The work of Terry "Geezer" Butler produced, along with his fellow Sabbath mates, the musical embodiment of heavy metal, Black Sabbath. The tale of the heavy masterpiece sculptures comes on the heels of an accident and a lyricist. Tony Iommi, the guitarist of Black Sabbath, after an accident rendered his fingers tender, de-tuned his instrument one half step. The deeper notes added a darker tone to the music. Those dark notes were followed by the words of Butler wailed out in way that only the tuneless Banshee, Ozzy Osbourne could throat. Between these elements the blackest Sunday was created.
Butler has brought thirty-five years of Heavy Metal lyricism to the throat of vocalist Clark Brown. His voice sounds young and elastic as he transitions from the highest choruses to the lowest rollicking grit on "Prisoner 103." The pain of incarceration within mental structures comes through by the desperate calls from Brown that turn into grunts. "I Believe" receives the softest starting melody on the album, and there Brown is soft too. The slower tempo and rushing guitars are a hard touch to this sleeper. The Geezer still has the wherewithal to destroy an illusion with his lyrics, and still be able to blend fantasy, pain, black magic and the occult. Chris Brown's vocals are not Ozzy's. Well, Ozzy's aren't Ozzy's anymore, but they are a good fit for Geezer.

Summer Lawns - First We Waited... Then It Started

Stunning Models on Display/Isidore/Redeye

New Artist of the Week:
Summer Lawns filled with the laughter of children, lawn bowling, barbecues and classic rock will not be found on "First We Waited... Then It Started." Verily, there are children playing on the grass somewhere, but most traipse through the neighborhood with broken bits and weary eyes. Jeremy Linzee's vocals lead the New York City based quartet with a breathy tone that sounds like Murdoch, from Belle & Sebastian, took too much Xanax. "Piano Song" tells the tale of falling down, and trying to get some rest. Perhaps, the person is not afraid of falling, just of hitting the ground. The delivery is decidedly over enunciated, but nonetheless enjoyable.
An ode to a fictional mass murderer? Sure, Summer Lawns has one of those. "Jack the Ripper," stalks a foggy cello string. The flat harmonies and the cello make the song a haunting reminder of life's fragility. "Choke" moves into a better space for the band.The song of asphyxiation relies on Linzee's vocals and the harmonies provided by Laurel Birkey. The song moves through another broken child narrative. The confessional space on the album is far from the center. Between "Twin Peaks" and "How to Furnish Life In The Desert," Linzee and the group stray from the depression and emotions of the confessional space as they narrativize the pain in metaphor and metonymy. First We Waited... Then It Started is sedate, haunting and odd album, with just the right amount of depression and hope.

The "Ya Baby!!!" String Quartet - String Quartet Tribute to AFI

Vitamin

When the mid-ninties were pressing out pundits' postulations of Dow Jones indices over ten thousand and an empirium nonpareil, the East Bay of Central California was alive with a countervailing ethic. From San Jose to Berkeley, clubs were packed with the fourth wave of punk resurgence. Lead by Lookout, Nitro and other labels, bands poured out an East Bay hardcore sound. This was basically a harder version of the pop-punk pioneered by San Diego's Descendants, Chicago's Screeching Weasel and Stiff Little Fingers. Among those who crept from the bayside to other parts of California was AFI. They were a basic punk outfit with a good sound, and a thirteen year old's wet dream for lyrics: Mohawks, saying Fuck you to mother and having a drink. They were fun live and on record. By the close of the dizzy, decadent nineties, AFI had turned their rudder for the disappearing sun. Black Sails on the Sunset marks their departure from the purely punk and a significant growth in artistry, if not promotion. This marked the inception of football players sporting AFI stickers on their trucks.
The String Quartet Tribute to AFI traces the innovative footprints of change that AFI is known for. Recreating earlier works that marked AFI's garage punk years such as "I Wanna Mohawk" and fluidly progressing to such epic punk ballads as "Girls Not Grey" and "Exsanguination," the violin, cello and other strings powerfully demonstrate the band's metamorphosis. This amazing tribute to AFI hauntingly resonates with the morbidly romantic and slightly disturbing style embraced by the lyrics of Davey Havok.

Mark Farina - Mushroon Jazz Volume Five

OM

Before the ice warehouse in Fontana was closed, long before the reign of the Masterdome, there was always a buzz in the dance circles about the arrival of talent from out of town. The house heads would always swoon over the skills of San FrancisicoÕs Mark Farina. Often, there would be a hopeful call for Dj Dan and Farina to trade places. Farina's early sets in Los Angeles were not to be missed. There was a mingling of sexuality, freedom and sweat in his mixes. Then, one night in one of the thousands of clubs between the fault lines and the skylines, there was a smoother version of Farina; the mushroom jazz set.
Mushroon Jazz was a devastating collusion of trip-hop, hip-hop, funk, pop and a touch of psychedelia. The sound was a groove, rather than a march. Smoother cuts led to pelvis swinging in the sets. The blunted beats of this music make for a great soundtrack to more than the dance floor. This is intelligent dance music, something for your mind, body and soul.

A Static Lullaby - Faso Latido

Columbia

A mind bending air raid siren compressed and drug like a violin into a humpback whale call introduces the aptly titled Faso Latido. From the undersea wailing, the introduction dumps into the strained vocals of Dan Arnold and Joe Brown. The structure of the quintet is similar to many of the latest emopopsicles: two guitars, a bass, a set of drums and two singers. The contrast created between the truly punk vocals of the strained and off-key variety press between the sweeter tones of the vocalist.
"Radio Flyer's Last Journey" makes up for much of the common sounds on the opener. The changes in tempo and the ascending feelings of the versification are a relief after the lackluster "Standup." "Cash Cowbell" deals with many metaphors, but boils down to a song about an emotional precaution before sex; great advice, good song. "Half Man, Half Shark; Equals One Complete Gentleman" is a mouthful for both the listener and the band. There, amid a thrashing swirl of guitars, the boys of A Static Lullaby exude the most plentiful harmonies of Faso Latido. The saturation level for bands of this nature is quickly approaching, however, these full songs and the ability to reinforce the confessional space with narrative makes A Static Lullaby better than most.

Andy Fraser - Naked... and Finally Free

Andy Fraser [CD/DVD]

Andy Fraser, after a ten year hiatus from the music world, is back. The Free bassist spent his younger years between that band and the bastion of British Blues, John Mayall's Blues Breakers. After Free came apart, Fraser when on to play for the Sharks and the Andy Fraser Band. His return to recording comes with his new found revelations of hope and survival. The music on Naked... and Finally Free embodies a sense of that peace and reconciliation.
The placidity on "Helping Hands" and "Stand Ready" comes from his hard-won lust for life. Fraser joins Michael Landau, Jeff Pilson and Niki Harris to deliver an eleven track journey through life. And what a life Fraser has led. He has been at the top of the charts; on stage; in trouble with his sexuality; contracted both Cancer and AIDS. Through all of this Fraser has made the impossible come true on Naked... and Finally Free. The album is an uplifting affirmation of life, hope and peace. Truly it is a "Jungle" out there, but we donÕt all have to be animals.

Pete Seeger - Dangerous Songs!?

Common Chord/Columbia/Legacy

Political Album of the Week:
When the Dustbowl's grit fell to the earth, it reveals two figures: Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger. These two folk heroes came together in the late thirties. Then, they formed the Almanac Singers with several other folksmen to promote unions and condemn fascism. And from there, the two have produced more than can be spoken about in this short form.
Pete Seeger is, was and always has been a damn fine radical. He fought against the tyranny of the Depression and the heinous actions of Fascism, here and abroad. If he were younger, he would have been at the De Beers retail store, protesting the slave labor and false markets they indulge. He stood up against the House Committee on Un-American Activites and fell victim to the black listing of his band the Weavers. He has done it all, walked the gravel roads, listened to the old ones and strums a mean fascist killing song.
In this era of nostalgia, with the mass media movies "Dukes of Hazard," "Batman Begins," "Bewitched," and just about every other rehashing of poor-defenseless sitcoms, there is nothing better than a good dose of reality. Pete Seeger sings the songs of the fifties and sixties. He sings of the reality, not the drugs. The times were changing, and they are now. Pete Seeger delivers a method to fight against the efforts of the Government, the witch hunters and the deliciously numb public. He is a classic. One must listen to Seeger, he has looked back into the past and brought with him tunes of our youthful nation through slave, work, protest, Spanish and traditional songs.

Eric Johnson - Bloom

Favored Nations

In descriptions of rock'n'roll guitarist the name Jimi Hendrix is often thrown around. There are few that enjoy actual talent on par with Hendrix. Eric Johnson deserves to be spoken about with the same adjectives as that legend. The man can play for a broad range of genres without the sound ever becoming counter to his intentions. His movements on the fret board rocket from simple melodies into the stratosphere. In the high flying "Summer Jam," Johnson induces a feeling of calm, even in a turbulent rush of percussion.
Bloom is the latest in the surprisingly short list of albums under Johnson belt. The thematic of this album mirrors those of the 1990 masterpiece Ah Via Musicom. That platinum selling album garnered this guitar hero some of the recognition he deserves, but he is still widely unknown. The skill of his playing is evident throughout Bloom. However, it is never more striking than on "Columbia." There Johnson is in his most creative space, the instrumental. Without the tyranny of melody, Johnson is free to leave the beaten path and venture through the frets. All the songs on the album are raging expressions of virtuosity and creativity.

Motion Picture Soundtrack - The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

Columbia/Sony Music Soundtrax

In an age when Hollywood movies geared toward young women are as flaccid as a Merry Christmas balloon in June. The plot lines are usually implausible and the actresses and actors are only glossy caricatures of reality. There is always a happy ending. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants escapes the cliches of most Hollywood production aimed at the 13-18 year old female market with an honesty and a straight face in the view of real world issues. The film takes on the burgeoning sexuality of these four young women with a serious, yet naive characterization; a refreshing space.
To coincide with the movie, Columbia and Sony Music Soundtrax have dropped a collection of the film's score and two bonus tracks. Five For Fighting make an appearance with their affable song "If God Made You." The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants' version of the tune receives a remix. This revisitation on the Five For Fighting original gives the song serious legs. The Faders' "No Sleep 2nite" is another pleasant addition to the soundtrack. Among the best songs on the album is the bonus track, "Simple." Katy Perry uses her unique take on life to deliver a near perfect distillation of the movie's thematic message.

Daniel Paul - Between Two Worlds

Soundings of the Planet

The percussive and rhythmic elements of music are usually not the first sounds to rise to the listener's attention. The four four beating of most musical genres do not produce enough spice to be appetizing. The answer for rhythm junkies is to take a long draw off Daniel Paul's latest release Between Two Worlds. Percussion fills the opener, "Rahde's Possession" with both the rhythmic pounding of the tabla and the melody drums of India. "Suite Crazy Moon" utilizes those oriental melodic drums to the fullest. There the drums give passion to the rises in tempo and the circular melody.
Daniel Paul is the Fulbright award-winning percussionist, who takes the rare art of melody drumming from the subcontinent of India and brings it to the United Sates with Between Two Worlds. There he blends the ecstatic rhythms of the melody drums of India, the rare tabla tarong, with exquisite strains of western guitar, violin, harp and chanting. The result is an energetic and melodic musical experience, perfect for improvisational dance, yoga, pilates and scared movement. Between Two Worlds is the follow up to Daniel Paul's debut release, Rhythms of Paradise, which also features the unique tabla tarong. This rare melodic drumset is comprised of six to sixteen precisely tuned tabla drums arranged in a semicircle around the musician and played with a tap of the fingers. Because of the different drum tunings, Daniel Paul is actually able to compose melodies from percussive elements.

The Dead 60s - The Dead 60s

Epic

The Dead 60s are a Liverpool quartet of new wave revivalists and art rock enthusiasts. And from the packaging and the name, there is going to be some tunes on the album. The four men - singer and guitarist Mat McManamon, organist and guitarist Ben Gordon, bassist Charlie Turner and drummer Bryan Johnson - return to the origins of British punk's ill fated flirtations with disco, art rock and the New Wave. This debut is packed with rubbery basslines, switchblade guitars, lo-fi mixing and oratory style lyrics, all of which they wrap up in a dancey, detached aesthetic.
The Dead 60s certainly have garnered four heads full of ideas on their self-titled debut. They just don't focus on resolution. That inattentiveness to the second half of the Western musical tradition leads some of their songs into troublesome territory. Particularly the opener, "Riot Radio," which introduces the band with a organ grind that sounds freakishly similar to Franz Ferdinand, and it moves through the same feeling throughout. This music will not appeal to those trapped in the need for a song to move through an idea and close in on it as it pulses toward the end. This debut uses a blase mood to propel the tensionless tracks: "Control This" and "New Town Disaster." The Clash's influence on the band come throttling through on "Nowhere." "Red Light" works as a tension inspired jam, but there is no come down off the stress. "Loaded Gun" is a great song, with the band's most coherent lyrics. The Clash is gone, art rock was consumed by the eighties and I miss both of those idioms. The Dead 60s does not make the best new wave, punk (Clash style), dance-rock and they stray from resolution. But the band has a fuzz, energy and grit that cannot be matched; can't wait for the next album.
Shelton's Single of the Week: The Dead 60s' "A Different Age"

Gorillaz - Demon Days

Virgin/EMI

In the 2D world that Damon Albarn, of Blur fame, and Jamie Hewlitt, of "Tank Girl" fame created nearly four years ago, has manufactured another segment of the trials, tribulations and songs of four fictional simians. The hip-hop focus of Dan "the Automator" Nakamura, has been replaced by Dangermouse's more subtle hand. With the production substitution, Demon Days receives the drawn out basslines of jungle on the lead single "Feel Good Inc." Albarn and De la Soul make the electronic dub-plate move with a human touch. Others have complained of Albarns' telephone flatness, but that sort of detachment is welcome on "Fire Coming Out Of The Monkey's Head." Dennis Hopper collaborates with the rest of the Gorillaz crew to produce art on disc. "Fire Coming Out Of The Monkey's Head" uses Hopper's schizophrenic twang to give life to a tale of commercial focus, ecological destruction and one small town's dream. The song is the most noteworthy experiment the Gorillaz have accomplished thus far. Here, that flat tone in Alburn's voice is ethereal, disassociated and perfect.
Demon Days coalesces around a decentered idea of the band's "sound." The fourteen track album shifts from a hip-hop album - "Dirty Harry" & "Feel Good Inc." - to a reggae swing - "All Alone"- then on to gospel on the title cut and an artsy pop-rock meltdown everywhere else. The eclectic nature of the album allows several repeat listens, rather requires several listens to comprehend the texture and depth that Dangermouse and Alburn have created from such two-dimensional figures.
Steve's Single of the Week: Gorillaz' "Fire Coming Out Of The Monkey's Head"

A Bluegrass Tribute - Pickin' On Melissa Etheridge

CMH

Live, Melissa Etheridge's big, bluesy voice casts airs of Springsteen. She has progressed far from the politically motivated and longing rants on her self-titled debut. Her songs of lust and desire created quite a stir in the music world. Melissa Etheridge has forged her platinum-plus career from the raw materials of life, creating an intimate, unbreakable bond with her fans. Her brand of bluesy heartland rock is unmistakable, full of fire and angry confession. She wields her low slung guitar like a lover's weapon, and sings in a beer glass-breaking, heart-wrenching voice that's gritty with experience, yet embellished with hope.
Pickin' On Melissa Etheridge is a boot-lickin' tribute to a woman who personifies honest, defiant folk-rock. She is a masterful, cunning songwriter and in the hands of firebrand banjo, fiddle and mandolin players, her melodic hooks grab hold and don't let go. In a bluegrass tuning, smash hits like "Bring Me Some Water" and "Come to My Window" ring out with pure, plaintiff urgency. Like Melissa Etheridge herself, this is music that's gutsy, tender and fun.

J.W. Warren - Life Ain't Worth Livin'

Fat Possum

"When a women gets the blues/ she hangs her little head and she cry/ When a man gets the blues/ he gotta hop that train and ride" opens this posthumous release, Life Ain't Worth Livin'. J.W. Warren, a native of Alabama, tosses the finest backyard barbecue blues. He was born in 1921 in Enterprise, AL. In a family of eleven children, he was the only one to take up music, starting at the age of fifteen or sixteen. He entered the military as a young adult and served for fourteen years. After serving in the military, he started farming and began to play barbecues at house parties in southeast Alabama.
"I came up the hard way. I never had a break whatsoever. In other words. I never had a break in my life. I was born in the wrong part of the world and then again I didn't go any place else. My daddy gave me a good raising and I know how to treat people. How to be respectful to folks. I like that. But I had too much trouble in my life. I didn't do anything with the talent I had because I didn't have that much education. When you got a bad break like I had, you doubt yourself, you know it's rough man!" -J.W. Warren.
Life Ain't Worth Livin' is an all traditional blues fair, arranged by the Alabama bluesman himself. From the opener "Hoboing into Hollywood" to the closer "You're Gonna Miss Me," the album is just pure blues acoustic guitar and Warren's unforgettable syllable slur. When the whole world seems to open up and threatens to swallow the protagonist in Warren's renditions, its seems as though they will just keep on smiling and singing. The blues may not ever hit you. The themes and stories may always seem like a deplorable recount of misdirection and lies in love, but they are life. These songs provide something most acts do not, they provide an access to another voice in pain when all is lost, and an access to traditional songs of America. J.W. Warren's music is bar none the finest blues to be brought out this year!