Consumer Guide:
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CLINIC: Winchester Cathedral (Domino) Decried for the sin of repeating themselves by those who once discerned the face of the Blessed Virgin in their surgical masks, these minor formalists find their calling. Really, children, they were never punky enough for fast-short-hard. Here, their structures adamantly circular and their tunes less catchy but more durable, they make dandy mystagogues on an album that begins inarticulate and attains the nirvana of total nonverbality. A MINUS
DADDY G: DJ-Kicks (!K7) Long on hooks and cameos, the Wild Bunch DJ's mix tape connects by the crude expedient of not proving how obscure his crates are. Sure he showcases rare versions of Tricky's "Karmacoma" and Aretha's "Rock Steady," but the songs you know--and if you don't, you will. Think of it as Massive Attack dinner music, nothing more, nothing less. B PLUS
LINTON KWESI JOHNSON: Live in Paris With the Dennis Bovell Dub Band (Wrasse) Though he's only released two albums since his last live one, 20 years ago now, LKJ retains the calm confidence with which savvy ideologues generate authority--so much more convincing in the long run than fervent rhetoric. With leftists everywhere twisting in anxiety or flailing out in defensive contempt, his voice alone is a comfort; announcing "a couple of old anti-fascist numbers" or matter-of-factly explaining the economic program that will bring everyone the precious gift of "more time," he sounds so intelligent, decent, and uncompromised that you feel political struggle can be a sane and rewarding life choice. His voice quieter but undiminished, his band subtler but no less tricky or effective, he unblushingly repeats five songs from the 1985 set, and although I wish he'd tapped Tings an' Times more--"Sense Outa Nansense," certainly--I sure didn't mind hearing the early material again. A MINUS
M.I.A. VS. DIPLO: Piracy Funds Terrorism, Vol. 1 (no label) Aesthetically, the choice is more like M.I.A. vs. the world, and though I know it's wrong of me, I'll take M.I.A. I'll take the conscious, autonomous individual artist, oppressive concept though that may be, over the welter of cultural forces from which she emerged. With a less complex and compelling artist I might make the opposite choice, though even the hippest mash-ups and mix tapes have less to say than they're given credit for. But I find more fascination--and pleasure, if not variety--in M.I.A. juxtaposed against herself than in, for instance, favela funk juxtaposed against "Walk Like an Egyptian." Which isn't to deny I also find all these good things in favela funk juxtaposed against "Walk Like an Egyptian." A MINUS
THE ROUGH GUIDE TO BOOGALOO (World Music Network) Living east of Avenue B from 1965 to 1975, I probably dismissed many of these songs out my window for the jerrybuilt noise they are--not like the salsa elders who resisted Nuyorican soul jive's silly lyrics and simplified dance beats, but like the Anglophone rock snob I would have sworn I wasn't. After all, I dug Jimmy Castor and Joe Cuba on AM radio, and no matter what hip-hoppers think, I consider soul jazz even cheesier now than I did then. But this stuff is--and, I'm sure, was--a gas. In Spanish, Spanglish, or English, enlisting Batman and covering the Rascals or luring the likes of Tito Puente and Celia Cruz into teen hits no more heartfelt than Perry Como's "Hot Diggity," boogaloo proves one of the purest party musics ever. I can't dance to it even now--the crudest salsa is wiser than my hips, mano. But I love its spirit. A MINUS
RUN THE ROAD (Vice/Atlantic) One so wants to give British MCs the benefit of the doubt. They're sincere, they're determined, and they've paid their dues. So this useful little collection will be praised like The Harder They Come when it's more African Underground Vol. 1: engaging yes, delightful no. As with African Underground, there's a language barrier, albeit a less insuperable one. But with grime there's also a music barrier: The beats are so squelchy (complexly squelchy here, but still) that when Dizzee Rascal and the Streets come on, they could be Just Blaze bum-rushing the permissions department. Three female voices also provide welcome illusions of grace. In fact, Lady Sovereign's cheap, cute "Cha Ching" is delightful. A MINUS
SCISSOR SISTERS (Universal) Great start: two songs in which gender spirals down the rabbit hole are followed by a Pink Floyd cover done Bee Gees-style. These star-time party boys never get brasher, funnier, or better, and their midtempo Elton isn't ironic enough. But this has more pride than competing gay masscult takeovers, which makes it more liberating for us all. Bless them for lending a queer ear to an ominously straight year. B PLUS
RUFUS WAINWRIGHT: Want Two (Geffen) Want One moved well-wishers to decry the evil corporation that forbade its prestige artiste to pile all the post-rehab "songs" he recorded with Björk hand Marius deVries onto one glorious double CD. But had any of them actually heard the lachrymosities he saved for part two? Get Jon Brion in here quick, Van Dyke Parks even, "The Art Teacher" is worth saving. His mom will still love him, that's something--thank God for her cameo. For less sanguine admirers, however, this is too classical, too romantic, and too I-yam-what-I-yam all at once. B MINUS
Honorable Mention
Choice Cuts
Duds
Village Voice, Mar. 22, 2005
Feb. 8, 2005 | Apr. 19, 2005 |