CD Roundup
by Marc Hirsh

unrecognizably hacked-up portions of this article were originally published in the Rice Thresher, April 28, 1995

There sure are a lot of albums up here at the Thresher office. For a while, it looked like I was going to be able to get through all of the CDs that record companies keep throwing our way, but apparently that was a cruel hoax.

Oh well. No harm in trying. At least I got to hear some good stuff along the way. Like American Recordings' Pop (Do We Not Like That?) (Too Pure/American) compilation. It seems that American is disregarding its patriotic name and looking to England, where the independent Too Pure label has been putting out a massive string of unexpected successes. Pop collects a bunch of songs from the diverse Too Pure roster, and it's pretty swell. A bunch of these acts weren't available in the U.S. until now, and this little snapshot of one side of the U.K. indie scene is mighty impressive. Okay, P.J. Harvey's "Sheela-Na-Gig" might be a ringer, but hey, you can't expect these guys to ignore their biggest success. The disc starts out strong with four amazing cuts, especially Stereolab's "Super-Electric" and Th' Faith Healers' edgy "Don't Jones Me." If the rest of the album is patchy, it's forgivable. Gems such as Laika's "44 Robbers," which comes off like a space techno version of Blondie's "Rapture," help wash away the taste of bland fare such as the drone of Seefeel's appropriately named "Plainsong."

Albums by Laika and Minxus are the first full-length releases by Too Pure acts. Laika's Silver Apples of the Moon (Too Pure/American) is an odd first pick. Coming off like a less distant Portishead, Laika uses moody samples and elastic song structures as a backdrop to singer Margaret Fiedler's eerily repetitious vocals. Interesting stuff if you let it get under your skin, and it won't leave you feeling thoroughly depressed, which is a nice bonus.

Minxus doesn't fare nearly as well. Their Pabulum (Too Pure/American) shows a band versed in atonal, arhythmic indie guitar-rock. It's a very difficult style to perform well, and Minxus doesn't even try. Which comes as a bit of a surprise, since their contribution to Pop, "Steal, Steal, Steal," was one of the highlights of the second half of the album. The fact that it's not included here should make one wonder. Why American chose to import this stuff when they can get it pretty damn cheap locally is beyond me.

Ned's Atomic Dustbin haven't been heard from in a while, and the arrival of their Brainbloodvolume (Work/Furtive) shows why: they've been busy shooting themselves in the foot. Worried about painting themselves into a corner of maximum energy rock, they shift gears and beg to be taken seriously. Damn. Another potentially great band blown to hell. Brainblood abandons the heavy-as-hell-because-we-got-two-bass-players sounds they've been mining for their last two albums for a second-rate Jesus Jones imitation. Computers dominate the band like never before, and it seems like they're more interested in atmosphere than in good songs. The band's new "serious" direction is the biggest problem, probably the root of all the others. Good songs like "Your Only Joke" and "...To Be Right" get bogged down in the band's earnestness. And when it takes more than a full minute for the album's opener, the otherwise peppy "All I Ask Of Myself Is That I Hold Together," to finally start, patience starts to give out from the very outset. Nowhere is there fun to be had.

If I didn't want fun, I'd head in Chris Whitley's general direction. His four-year-old debut album, Living With The Law, was a spookily beautiful update of rural blues and the outlaw lifestyle. Plus it supplied, with "Kick The Stones," a groovy backdrop for Geena Davis and Brad Pitt to get it on in Thelma and Louise. But those days are gone, since Whitley wants to go grunge. His latest, Din Of Ecstasy (Work), grabs his voodoo rock and throws it headlong into the '90s and ends up damn near ruining the whole thing. Feedback, distortion and a general disregard for most things acoustic throw a wrench in Whitley's plan, which is to spook us into submission. There are times when it seems like Whitley is deliberately trying to sabotage himself. His attempts to avoid the vocal swoops and leaps that he apparently thinks hurt Living (memo to Chris: that was partly why we like it) give him a bland singing style that is occasionally indistinguishable from Chris Cornell's lower croonings. Except Cornell doesn't stay there for an entire album.

Speaking of Cornell, Soundgarden appear on the Basketball Diaries soundtrack (Island). This is an odd but nifty little grab bag of stuff, with some new songs, some old songs and some songs that are kinda both. The movie is poet/singer Jim Carroll's semi-autobiography, and he dominates the album, appearing on five of its 15 cuts. In fact, his presence unifies the soundtrack to the point where it might not telling a story, but it wouldn't be hard to get there from the selection of songs. Throughout the album, Carroll himself reads excerpts from the novel upon which the movie is based, and they're not randomly placed. His document of the loss of a friend to leukemia segues seamlessly to his old Jim Carroll Band's "People Who Died," recounting the same tale in punk rock form. The song has always been terrific; now it becomes heartbreaking on an emotional level as well as a thrilling piece of rock and roll. There are a few more revelations. The Posies' "Coming Right Along," previously relegated to the end of their decent-but-nothing-special Frosting On The Beater album, shines in worthy company. Flea proves himself capable of being thoroughly lucid and moving outside the Red Hot Chili Peppers, as he demonstrates with the acoustic-based "I've Been Down." All this plus Green Apple Quick Step's snappy "Dizzy," a new Soundgarden tune and P.J. Harvey's awesome "Down By The Water." If The Basketball Diaries proves a dud of a film, it's at least given us one of the most thoughtful and worthwhile soundtracks we'll probably see in a long time.

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