Record Reviews: Texas Platters
Fri., Nov. 29, 1996
BETH WOOD
Wood Work (Autonomous)
It's always a little disturbing to hear newly recorded material from a local
artist of whom you've never heard. Especially when it's this good. On her CD
debut, Beth Wood sings of resilience and longing in as beautiful a tone as has
anyone since k.d. lang sang "Constant Craving." Granted, her style is much less
varied than the genre-hopping lang, but songs like "Geometry" and "Two Years or
Three" establish a solid tack for Wood's intelligent and searching lyrics. And
her voice is wonderful. The strained restraint with which she sings "but it's
been almost a year and he's still waiting there for the mean time" (the last
line from "Mean Time") makes too obvious the painful necessity of abandonment
with which she struggles in the rest of the song. Brad Robinson's understated
guitar work meshes well with Wood's vocal style, complementing the rise and
fall of her pitch with quiet consistency. Wood Work doesn't really break
any new ground, but it should establish Wood as one of the rising number of
very talented singer-songwriters in Austin.
(3.5 stars) -- Christopher Hess
DARDEN SMITH
Deep Fantastic Blue (Plump)
Maybe it's Darden Smith's one-liners that make this record so, uh, plump:
"What you're missing is me..." or, "Heaven must've felt like this the first day
of the sun..." or, "Somebody's pride and joy turned out to be a broken branch
of the family tree..." or, "I've cut myself and I just want to heal again..."
Okay, okay, you get the picture. Maybe it's his skill at buoying
intense-to-the-point-of-mushy lyrics with lifesaving Tom Petty-ish vocals and
pacing. Maybe it's his almost-all-acoustic sound, which inspires concentration
on each note and each word. Maybe it's that he had the guts to write a song
called "Skin" that evokes morbid images while spelling out a universal truth.
Whatever it is, by the time you get to the end of this album, you're repeating
Smith's final one-liner like a call-out to a lover who's leaving: "Don't let it
slip away."
(3.5 stars) -- Melissa Rawlins
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BROADCASTS VOL. 4
(107.1 KGSR/Radio Austin)
Disc One: Peter Case, James McMurtry, Joe Ely, Poi Dog Pondering, Son Volt,
Sonny Landreth, Los Lobos, John Hiatt, Patty Larkin, Loudon Wainwright III,
Teisco Del Rey & the Nutrockers, Don Walser, Tish Hinojosa, Chris Smither,
Ian Moore, Lou Reed, Randy Newman, Alejandro Escovedo, Kris McKay. Disc Two:
Dog's Eye View, Ron Sexsmith, Hamell on Trial, Joan Osborne, Dave Mason, Taj
Mahal, Terry Allen, the Band, Bill Morrissey, Teye, Joan Armatrading, Cowboy
Junkies, Semisonic, Emmylou Harris, Willie Nelson, the Wallflowers,
81/2 Souvenirs, Patty Griffin, Kelly Willis, Loyle Lovett. That's
the story. That, and the fact that this yearly stocking stuffer was "performed
live and broadcast exclusively on 107.1 KGSR," in Austin, where a pressing of
8,000 -- up a grand from last year -- will surely sell out. They do every year.
This year, proceeds go to the Grammy's local music programs. What else? That
Jody Denberg's pet project gets better every year?
That the song selection
is superb? Alright. But I'm pretty sure that's everything. I don't
think I've left anything out. Oh yes, the Don Walser track, "Devil's
Great Grandson," isn't on any of his CDs.
(4.0 stars) -- Raoul Hernandez
ASYLUM STREET SPANKERS
Spanks for the Memories (Watermelon)
This album documents the Asylum Street Spankers in one of two ways they sound
best: in a simple, wood-floored living room with one microphone -- natural and
bare, no overdubs and no extras to interfere with the performance. (In front of
a crowd is the other setting in which they should be recorded.) Part of the
credit goes to producer Mark Rubin (assisted by Danny Barnes), who does an
amazing job of recording this unique group of talented musicians. For anyone
who's had the pleasure of attending a Spankers' performance, their great
playing and solid group cohesion have all been caught on tape in this
combination of standards and originals. Some may say that other performers do a
better job of interpreting (or re-interpreting depending on how you look at it)
the "old-timey" acoustic folk genre, but I challenge anyone to find a group of
10 musicians with such divergent interests, who can create pretentiousless and
honest-to-God music as well as the Spankers. My only recommendations are to let
Christina Marr's beautifully visceral voice show through a tad more and to
start thinking about that live CD.
(4.0 stars) -- David Lynch
THE RECLINERS
Cosa Caliente (Raving Cleric)
This whole retro-lounge thing started with bands getting sick of playing the
same three chords and finding that by throwing enough jokey, self-conscious
rock covers in the mix, they could get away with playing some jazzy noodlings
instead. Then, once the lounge thing actually caught on, most of those bands
(and the new ones jumping on the wagon) dumped the schticky cover tunes and
headed for the heart of the smoky hotel bar. Not so the Recliners. A good half
of this CD consists of familiar titles like "Fight For Your Right (To Party)"
and the disco anthem "Hot Stuff," but now that we all know lounge is "cool"
anyway, the Recliners' versions don't seem all that forced. "Roxanne" lends
itself especially well to The Recliners' laid-back arrangements (y'know,
there's really no reason for Frank not to do this number), and the
melody of Radiohead's "Creep" similarly translates well to the genre (ditto
here for Tony Bennett). The problem this band has is that they don't seem able
to learn the lyrics of the songs they cover! I mean, "Twenty-twenty-twenty-four
hours ago, I wanna be sedated"? How difficult can it be to learn Ramones
lyrics? Still, the band's delivery and sound is solid, as is the all-important
crooning, and even their originals aren't half-bad. Check out "Deeper and
Deeper," which sounds like a cross between the themes to Arthur and the
Love Boat with a hint of some forgotten New Wave song. Anybody got a
light for this cigar?
(3.0 stars) -- Ken Lieck
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THE PHANTOM CREEPS
Rebel Without Applause (Monkey Boy)
The instrumental rock invasion surfed in from the ocean on the board of Dick
Dale and was met in Tornado Alley by those UFO pilots that always seem to be
crashing into trailer parks. When the wreckage cleared, the big-eyed
greenbloods from Man... or Astroman? met up with the inspired cracker soul
mayhem of Jerry Lee Lewis and did right well together. They landed right in
Phantom Creep country, where you can go from an "Orgy of the Blood Parasites"
to the "Barn of the Naked Dead," searching for "The Thing That Wouldn't Die"
lurking atop "Whitman's Tower." It's a place where the most depraved
psychobilly runs smack into the buoyant guitar majesty of surf music, walking
dizzily away from the collision like a pill-popping Texas freak bent on
revenge. Best to check it out live when it happens -- Rebel Without
Applause is like a car accident replayed 12 times, in different tempos and
keys -- but if you must, flood the engine, crack another Lone Star, and chalk
those lights in the sky up to your imagination. That's all they are, right?
(3.0 stars) -- Christopher Gray
BRAVE COMBO WITH LAUREN AGNELLI
Kiss of Fire (Watermelon)
You can go ahead and scratch one more notch in the rhythm stick of Texas' most
irreverent musical archeologists. This time out, the Combo is accompanied by
former Washington Squares vocalist Lauren Agnelli, and the result is another
well-informed mix of sophistication and schmaltz. Having Brave Combo take on
lounge music is a no-brainer in this day and age, but that doesn't stop Kiss
of Fire from enthralling the listener beyond the point of novelty. The
album seamlessly swings the atmosphere from a Paris Metro station ("J'ai Faim,
Toujours") to a bachelor pad equipped with the Sergio Mendes catalog ("A Way to
Say Goodbye") to a New Wave ballroom dancing class ("Serendipity").
Surprisingly, the best of the lot may be the sultry and horrific Carl
Finch/Agnelli original, "Burn Slow." The song allows Agnelli to step completely
out of the Squares' faux beatnik stance and embody the stereotypical ballroom
diva with a troubled mind. Kiss of Fire is a trans-generational romp
full of drama, romance and a certain hard-to-pin spark of mania that makes the
whole package perfect for weddings and Bar Mitzvahs.
(3.0 stars) -- Greg Beets
TWO MINUTE SINATRA
Very strange album, inside and out. The cover art is cryptic and spare, and
the music on the CD is all over the place. "Crush" sounds like Wire Train, and
"Torture Me" could have been recorded by a tired Curiosity Killed the Cat.
Thank goodness for "Holding You (Walking Away)," the best song and final track
on the album. It's the only song here uninspired by anyone but the four men who
joined forces just eight months ago. If you're attracted to their formula
(simple drum tracks under repetitive keyboard melodies under electric guitar
doodlings plus bittersweet lyrics), then you gotta check out their webpage,
where they finally let you in on their secret: They're just "guys who wanted to
put a little glamour and flash into the substance." Translation: They're just a
bar band that decided to put their songs on CD.
(1.5 stars) -- Melissa Rawlins
MILKER
We Use the De Laval Milker
The guitar work is competent, even driving in spots and there's a tight rhythm
section sporting some solid sax; lots of heart put into each part. But when you
put the CD in, it plays it all at the same time, and that's not really a good
thing. The mix struggles. When the sax breaks into song after song, you start
with "Wow, that's different," moving quickly to "What the hell did they do that
for?," and ultimately settling for "Hey, put something else on." We Use the
De Laval Milker offers a few moments of promise, like the swinging intro to
"Stay Clear" and the background harmonies of "Government," which indicate an
original and cohesive direction for this local band, but their maiden release
seems to have landed this CD in a whole bunch of the wrong places.
(2.0 stars) -- Christopher Hess
BROTHER RUSSELL'S RADIO JIHAD
(Vinyl Communications)
Can there really be too many prank phone call tapes out there? Probably, but
until Christianity gives up one of their many radio frequencies to the art, I'm
inclined to tell folks like Brother Russell to keep fighting the good fight.
Radio Jihad specializes in pissing on the parade of pompous talk radio
windbags up and down the local AM dial. Much like the underground army of
Howard Stern cranksters, the callers slowly lull call screeners and hosts into
a false sense of complacency before transgressing from the sublime to the
stupid. For example, one call begins as an earnest discussion of the Bible
before degenerating into psychobabble about how the Antichrist will be a
crystal that imbues monkeys with demonology. Another caller convincingly
assumes the persona of a little old lady who goes from professing her love for
Christ to angrily rebuking her husband for watching a porn video. The callers
get under the skin of host Mike East enough to make him wish a pox on the
Jihad. "They're one taco short of a combination plate!" says East. Radio
Jihad may not be the funniest or cleverest of pranksters, but honestly,
what's not to love about a little home-grown media terrorism?
(3.0 stars) -- Greg Beets
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LAURIE FREELOVE
Songs From The Nineline (Chocolate)
Live recordings are sometimes tricky to digest, but this one from ex-Two Nice
Girl Laurie Freelove is worth the risk. If you think there are better Freelove
albums already playing in your living room, then bully for you! But for the
neophyte, Songs From the Nineline demands listening like s'mores demand
eating. Brave record-bin browsers, attracted by the ambiguous sexuality of the
CD cover, will put this album on the stereo and feel their own soul grow
bigger, filled by the beautifully wise love songs and dangerously compelling
rhythms. Each moment spent with Freelove's folky acoustics -- punctuated by her
unpredictably soaring-then-raspy-then-gentle voice piercing your every receptor
-- is an intimate indulgence. This seems due to the fact that the songs were
recorded not in front of a live audience, but during live radio broadcasts
instead -- making you her live audience. In the end, you'll find yourself
giving thanks to each deejay and production engineer who helped document
Freelove's clarity. Then you'll smack your lips and press play again.
(4.0 stars) -- Melissa Rawlins
BRAVE COMBO
Mood Swing Music (Rounder)
This grab-bag collection of outtakes and rarities from Brave Combo's
Rounder releases has the same appeal as a Kellogg's Variety Pack. Because the
band assumes completely new identities from album to album, it's impossible to
gauge the breadth of their output without the aid of a sampler. Mood Swing
Music explores everything from conjunto to ondo, a genre combining
Western pop with traditional Japanese music. The album also contains plenty of
instrumentals, any of which could make elevators infinitely more interesting.
The band's zany take on Music Explosion's "Little Bit O'Soul" is enough to
convince me that they should ponder going mano a mano with Muzak in the
musical manipulation industry. Another highlight is "Skin," an Ernest Noyes
Brookings (Duplex Planet) poem set to
music that presents Brave
Combo as the logical heir to Joe Raposo's post at Sesame Street. You
even get Tiny Tim's quasi-pornographic reading of the Beatles' "Girl"!
Brave Combo's educated pillaging of music is as rewarding as a day of used
bookshop hopping, and an odds-and-sods compilation which really drives that
intimate joy of discovery to heart.
(3.5 stars) -- Greg Beets
CHRIS WALL
Every Saturday Night in Texas (Cold Spring)
Chris Wall is a true Texan. Check out his hat, his laugh, and hell, his whole
damn frame. Looks like he could wrestle a blue norther one-handed. He sings
like a Texan, too, in a smoky tenor-baritone that appreciates a stiff glass of
Beam almost as much as vintage George Jones. (The two are far from mutually
exclusive). He's even true to the state motto, "Friendship," lassoing friends
Dale Watson ("Ship Me Back to Texas"), Bruce Robison and Kelly Willis ("Miles
of Rodeo"), and Mary Cutrufello ("Damn Good Time") to help out. And of course,
he plays with the true honky-tonk verve that this state demands. But the most
Texan thing about Wall may be his seasoned barroom wit. If he's not subtly
nudging his Greek following with references to Jerry Jeff, Robert Earl, and Ray
Wylie, he's tossing off a couplet along the lines of "I don't normally play the
fool, but I'd love to fool around with you." Real timeless stuff. Timeless as
each and every Saturday night in Texas.
(3.0 stars) -- Christopher Gray
MARY CUTRUFELLO
Who to Love and When to Leave
Last year, Philadelphia's "alt-country" pride and joy, Go to Blazes, put out a
live-to-ADAT fan club CD that was not only better than any of their label
efforts, it was also better than 90 percent of what passes for major-label
country crap. Their secret? A case of beer, an afternoon of studio time, and no
overdubs. And because Mary Cutrufello's Who to Love and When to Leave
was also recorded live-to-ADAT with "no lead vocal or solo guitar overdubs,"
one gets the idea she was going for that same shit-kicking live energy and
vibe. Certainly, with her hoarse vocal style and bucking Fender raunch, that
had to be the plan. Unfortunately, Cutrufello's no whiskey-soaked Bocephus like
GTB's Ed Warren, she doesn't have a good batch of songs or any covers (doing a
Lee Hazelwood, Kinky Friedman or even Lou Reed song did wonders for
you-know-who), and she doesn't have the benefit of a producer like Eric
"Roscoe" Ambel to tell her when the mix sounds horrible. Fans of this ramblin'
Texas filly, who recently worked wonders on Jimmie Dale Gilmore's tour, might
find this sloppy, half-baked batch of goods very much to their liking, but
Who to Love and When to Leave sounds more like an "alt-country" album,
than one of those real country albums they make up in Philly.
(2.0 stars) -- Raoul Hernandez
BREEDLOVE
Reach Out (Velvet)
Sometimes a voice can carry a band, but rarely can a lone voice carry an
album. Undeniably, Dan Dyer can sing his way around a song, yet his golden
throat has clearly matured faster than Breedlove's aluminum songwriting. In
fact, the whole package -- from the Vaughan pedigree to the forced blooze -- is
all too reminiscent of Storyville's Bluest Eyes, the pre-Atlantic indie
that squandered a great voice and backing talent with poor material. And while
Reach Out shows enough potential that this local band could eventually
rebound like Storyville, what's disconcerting is Breedlove's indecision as to
whether they're about Grand Funk (Railroad) or pseudo-alternative textures.
Without any real "jamming" capabilities, the glut of songs over four minutes
seems equally puzzling. Most alarming, however, is this CD's poor production,
in which Dyer's croons are all too often buried deep below a simplistic organ
or
guitar part -- quickly sucking the edge out of contenders like "3am
Drag" and "Peregrine." Although diehards will argue they've found another
subtly hidden gem or two, the fact remains that a band with this kind of hype
and promise demands a better first impression.
(2.5 stars) -- Andy Langer
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FRANK ROBINSON & GUITAR CURTIS
Deep East Texas Blues (Black Magic/Munich)
East Texas is special. The sententious, silently majestic pine trees and the
way the stars seem to fill up the whole sky give the place a supernatural air,
like time has slowed and is permitting you a window to get everything figured
out. East Texas, a haven when reality leaves tire treads across your back, is
also as real as it gets. They know the blues in the Piney Woods. They live the
blues. Drive up highway 87, 59, or 63, and you're following the trail of
Leadbelly, Blind Lemon Jefferson, and Lightnin' Hopkins. It's down that highway
Frank Robinson and Guitar Curtis are speeding on Deep East Texas Blues,
past all the roadhouses and barbecue pits that keep Hopkins' flame alive
(Robinson is the great Lightnin' Sam's nephew), and juke joints where Curtis
honed his chops to rival Buddy Guy and Albert King. Sadly, one of those East
Texas highways robbed Curtis of his life last December, though he and Robinson
had already done what no one has done for years and years: captured the rich,
tradition-soaked black music of East Texas on album just as evocatively as Les
Blank once did on film.
(4.0 stars) -- Christopher Gray
