Consumer Guide:
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FOUR TET: Rounds (Domino) Charming, civilized, childish, Kieran Hebden imagines an aural space in which electronic malfunction is cute rather than annoying or ominous. Keys and strings go their own merry way toward the same pretty, toylike goal, and though the drums grumble sometimes, they can be counted on to help their friends the glitches in a pinch. The computer as music box--which is what guys like Hebden think it is, after all. A MINUS
RAMIRO MUSOTTO: Sudaka (Fast Horse) Gaby Kerpel fans take note--yet another cosmopolitan Argentinean, this one a São Paulo-based percussionist, doing the ethnotechno dance with yet another cache of field recordings. Difference is, Musotto shows no interest in conventional songs as he fuses berimbau, cuíca, Pro Tools, and such to a children's chorus, a bottle man's cry, authorized secret recordings of a warrior tribe, and several helpings of Candomblé. Most percussion records are too abstract, just like most techno records. These beats and textures are the lingüiça in the feijoada. A MINUS
THE RAPTURE: Echoes (Strummer/Universal) "House of Jealous Lovers" so dominates that it takes a while to glom onto the other uptempo numbers, which means most of them. With headman Luke Jenner flaunting his tortured-romance shtick--a clarion Ian Curtis-Robert Smith hybrid only not really depressed, because he gets off on pretending to be--this is mannerist DOR more accomplished and less sentimental than its sources. Title tune flows out of great hit so naturally you hardly notice the segue, and dig the synthesized train horn that adjoins the saxophone noises on "I Need Your Love." I wish they'd make a pass at Killing Joke's "Change" or Medium Medium's "Hungry So Angry." But more likely Jenner is on the hunt for a hit ballad even as I write. A MINUS
THE ROUGH GUIDE TO THE MUSIC OF EGYPT (World Music Network import) The field is vast, vast--Cairo has been the cultural capital of the Middle East since the dawn of recording. And though the compiler is Yalla: Hitlist Egypt's David Lodge, the logic is unusually impenetrable: neither of Yalla's hard youth styles, no Faudel or Umm Kulthum, two tracks each for current superstars Angham and Amr Diab, plenty of classicists and also plenty of Nubians. Yet keynoted by Angham's irresistible "Leih Sebtaha," which dates all the way back to 2001, its intense, tradition-steeped politesse holds it together as it leaps not just decades but generations. A MINUS
STOMP AND SWERVE: AMERICAN MUSIC GETS HOT (Archeophone) Because David Wondrich's sourcebook cracks so wise, and because pre-electrical recordings are so tinny, you'll get happier reading about this music than listening to it. But there's a third reason: although most of these 27 1897-1925 selections are groundbreaking, the conventions they're tethered to are boulders they scarcely budge. Listening to early Armstrong is like reading Yeats--they're both so vivid and immediate you don't care how dated they are. Listening to Vess Ossman or Arthur Pryor (major innovators, as the book makes clearer than the notes) is more like reading Edwin Arlington Robinson. So take this as a hell of a history lesson. Play it half a dozen times and you'll adjust to its aural coordinates, but even then you may enjoy its quaintness more than its raunch or roll. Two great exceptions: Bert Williams's "Nobody," a barely sung set piece that gains inevitability until it stands there a masterwork, and Mamie Smith's "Crazy Blues," in which a black vaudevillian and her black band revolutionize the record industry and have a ball doing it. B PLUS
Z-MAN: Dope or Dog Food (Refill/Hiero Imperium) "Born free, hungry, ugly with no money," Z-Man lives the hip hop fantasy. His life is one long after-party--every night he gets wasted and has sex with someone he doesn't know. His favorite high is Cisco, the orange-colored fortified wine a/k/a "liquid crack," and his honeys could populate a Benetton ad if you airbrushed their zits. His tone of voice is slapstick, his homemade beats all freaky jocularity. But is he ever not having fun. His bacchanals invariably deteriorate into gruesome details, and after the after-party comes the aftermath: cockroaches in his glass and crabs in his pubes, arms broken in drunken car crashes, insomnia that won't quit, and then there's the STDs. This is a rapper who hocks loogies when he spits and believes in God like he believes in Santa Claus. And now--unless you have something better for his ass, which you don't--pass the Cisco. A MINUS
THE NOTWIST: Neon Golden (City Slang/Virgin) Not a fraud. That much I'll grant this evolving German unit's career album. There are tunes, and they're nicely melded to a wide assortment of putatively nonmusical sounds. Not pretentious either, though to say anything kinder about Markus Archer's command of English is to make hope a vice. Also, not cold--lukewarm at least. But then what? Not dynamic? Not exciting? Not much fun? Young people who think Kraftwerk were more important than the Ramones are free to satisfy their craving for the neu with this retreat into simplicity. But even Radiohead and Mouse on Mars contain more chaos. And the chaos is still out there. B MINUS
Honorable Mention:
Choice Cuts:
Duds:
Honorable Mention and Choice Cuts in order of preference.
Village Voice, Feb. 10, 2004
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Jan. 13, 2004 | Mar. 23, 2004 | ![]() |