Album Reviews

[binnie]

A review of the The Flaming Lips cover of Dark Side of the Moon

After watching and hearing the Flaming Lips derailment of what was intended to be a tribute to the Who on VH1 a year or so ago, I was a bit leary of them covering DSotM. It turned I was leary with good reason.

From the brash intro of Speak To Me to the final heartbeat of Eclipse I was left unimpressed and a bit insulted. It's hard to believe this is the same band that recorded some of my favorite efforts of the past 10 years or so. While Peaches does a fine job, the guest spots from Henry Rollins, much like the overall performance of the album, simply falls flat.

There are some bright spots to the album. The Great Gig in the Sky and Us and Them are definitely the standout tracks. They maintain some of the original tunes' integrity while incorporating some of the classic psychedelic synth vibe that originally put The Flaming Lips on the musical radar. That doesn't mean they are very good though.

Overall: I can't help but think some of these tunes would better served on a various artists tribute to DSotM. All the sounds and groove of The Flaming Lips that their fans will dig with an uninspired/lack-lustre performance and sloppy/choppy production. Die hards will want to get it to complete their collection but otherwise not worth the money. If you want to hear a good tribute to DSotM, get the Dream Theater bootleg: MEGAUPLOAD - The leading online storage and file delivery service

1 1/2 out of 5

Ouch!

Sounds like they deserved it though.....

[binnie]

Kiss - Sonic Boom

Kiss have always been big but never particuarly clever. Nothing much has changed here. In fact, this album has a decidedly retro feel to it: a conscious drive toward their '70s sound; formlaic art work with the lyrics printed clearly one page per song, like they used to be in the good ol' days; and a centre-fold photgraph of the band in all of their made-up glory, complete with signatures - a detail which suggests that they still take themselves waaaay too seriously. Blues riffs are still burried in glitter, the lyrics are still terrible, the songs are still written around ideas stretched thinner than the spandex pants in their collective wardrobe, and the whole thing is still camper than Christmas.

But it works. It REALLY works. From the moment opener 'Modern Day Delilah' kicks in with its tumble riff and gargantuan chorus, you just know this is a good Kiss record. This is a band that has always worked best at its simplest - a hamburger served best with extra cheese and little garnish - and songs like 'Say Yeah', 'All For The Glory' and 'I'm An Animal' are the uncomplicated pop rock staples upon which they've made their millions. Purists may say it can never be vintage Kiss without Ace Frehley and Eric Carr in the mix, but Thommy Thayer and Eric Singer fill their roles adequately (the former contributing to a belter in 'Never Enough') and allow this to be what the band has been for at least 25 year - the Gene and Paul show. Ultimately this is a Paul Stanley album - the Starchild not only handled production duties and wrote most of the tunes, but sings his balls off througout. Simmons may have a standout cut in 'Russian Roulette', but he's also responsible for the stinker 'Hot and Cold'.

Overall, 'Sonic Boom' is something of a Kiss trifle - layers of everything good from their near 40 year career arranged into one treat of a record. Thus you have 'Danger Us' and 'When Lightning Strikes' to represent the blues rock of their '70s heyday sitting alongside 'Stand', which replicates the pop glories of their '80s peak. You get the sense that the memory of 1996's disaster 'Psycho Circus' became something of an albatros, and this time round the band wanted to ensure that their career ended (for this surely is the end?) with Boom rather than a whimper.

[binnie]

New York Dolls - 'Cause I Sez So

When the title track kicks in to open this record, you get warm sense of familiarity that comes with listening to legends - with it's blues riffs cranked to a broken-swagger and gusto, this is the Rolling-Stones-with-the-wheels-abouttofalloff we've come to love about the 'Dolls. It's a surprise then that the bulk of this album departs from that trademark sound. 2006's reunion record - 'One Day It Will Please Us To Remember Even This' - was unconciously nostalgic in its delivery of slabs of thick glitter-blues, and the hiring of Todd Rungren to produce 'Coz I Sez So' might lead listeners to expect a more self-conscious drive to re-capture the band's '70s sounds. It's a welcome surprise that this no ape of a record, and a sign of the hunger still abounding in the Dolls bellies which leads to some truly inspired moments being displaid here. The menacing refrain of 'Better Than You' is a dark beauty; 'Lonely So Long' is drenched in a Cohen-esque croon; and 'My World' is the sound of a later-day REM who have discovered their testicles. This album then is not an attempt to be 'modern' or 'relavant', but certainly a drive to be a more mature New York Dolls, and as such it's drenched in the unabounding honesty which made them great in the first place. The lyrics are still a hive of uncomplicated pinache and gutter-glitz wisdom, and its when the band are stipped down on the battered agony of 'Making Rain' - a slab of uncontrived melancholy so many EMO bands would give every dyed hair on their heads to pen - that we remember how poigant this band can be. No nostalgia trip, but still a familiar friend, and far from perfect - these Dolls are still coming at you warts and all.

[binnie]

Slaves To Gravity - Scatters The Crow

Slaves To Gravity have been awarded many plaudits for their debut album, lapping up tags of 'best new band'. These are certainly well deserved, but in a sense they're also misleading, for there is little 'new' year. In essence we have a band which sounds like 'Purple'-era Stone Temple Pilots or 'Down On The Upside'-era Soundgarden, a slab of post-grunge which is littered with high-points. Whilst it's not a patch on any of its influences, it is an impecable debut, and, like Life Of Agony's equally post-grunge sounding 'Ugly', is far from being simply a copy-cat record. Song's like 'Heaven is A Lie' revolve around a swirl of riffs, harmonies and hooks which smack of a song-writing maturity far beyond this band's youth; and the macabre-jangle of the Jane's Addiction-esque 'She Says', with its bleeding vocal, is a taste of the talent in reserve here. Bolstered by the rich, crisp and thick production of Chris Sheldon, the songs have been worked at but rarely stray into the territory of sounding laboured. Rich, dark, and yet strangely uplifting, this is a sign of things to come - for whilst Slaves To Gravity are still a long way from penning a classic, should they learn to absorb their influences more fully into their own sound we may get a masterpiece in the future.

[binnie]

Mammal - The Majority

A band that blends the funk of early Rollins Band and Rage Against the Machine into a monstrous sound, Mammal deserve to crush everything in their wake. This is a disc which drips with hunger, passion, anger and - that rarest of commodities today - something to say: indeed, on 'Smash the Pinata' this band hits the menacing wit that Hank Rollins' music used to posses. A maelstrom of sun-kissed blues riff, tight beats and belted vocals swirl out of the speakers at tsunami speed and with a massive sound which perfectly compliments the band's fist in the face to the post-consummerist world. 'Bending Rules' is broken funk, 'The Majority' is angular riffery, whilst 'Religion' is dark simplicity. Sheer bloody power delivered through understated musicianship and songs honed to the point of breaking. What are you waiting for?

[binnie]

Laruso - A Classic Case of Cause And Effect

Yet another post-hardcore band. Just what the world needs, right? It's easy to be dismissive, but there are some real gems on this debut record. Like many bands of this ilk, hulking riffs and time-changes smash into catchy chorus and huge soundscapes in songs which pursue a series of peaks and troughs - you could never accuse this group of lacking ideas. They are, however, guilty of confusing sentiment and melodrama - as with so many bands who have arrived in the last five years, the band believes that an emotion is somehow truer if it is expressed more force. As is the case with the majority of these bands, the result often feel contrived rather than genuine, and the nuances of performance and mature vocal delivery would take this record to the next level.

That being said, the songwriting here is remarkalbe. 'Overture' is an epic of biblical proportions, and the pop-sensibilites of '1998' are irrisistable. It is only on songs like 'End of Level Boss' and 'Borderline Exit Plan', however, that we get a sense of what this band can really do, for it is on these songs that they transcend their influences and find the confidence to display their own unique sound. More of this in the future could see an album that is impeccable rather than just impressive. This debut is bound to be enjoyed be any fan of modern alt-rock or post-hardcore music.

[binnie]

Airbourne - No Guts, No Glory

This is rock with a low IQ and a high RPM. It leaves the listener with a feeling of ambivalence. One the one hand, you can't help thinking that the shameless AC/DC plagarism is a cheap shot - this band couldn't even spell originality, let alone produce it. On the other hand, you find yourself rocking along to this mutha - air drums, air bass, air guitar, sore neck, the works. This is the way that AC/DC wanted to sound in the 80s during their post 'Back in Black' lull: the difference is that Airbourne play with BALLS - big, hairy, sweaty, tequilla-filled balls, a raging enthusiasm that blasts out of the speakers. They make no pretence of their being anything 'new' here - this is no frills, blue-collar rock 'n' roll made for people who work a shitty job Monday to Friday and want something on a Saturday night which, to quote Lemmy, 'tears ya heart out and gives it back to you better.'

Every cliche is here - songs about sex ('Chewin' the Fat'), songs about groupies ('It Ain't Over Till It's Over'), songs about defiance ('Bottom of the Well') and songs about the inevitable world domination of rock 'n' roll ('Raise the Flag') - but it doesn't matter, the ineffectiousness of this band is catching. It's based solely on the fact that Airbourne don't have a contrived bone in their body. They mean this, and the listener is left in no doubt that they spend most of their lives drinking and chasing women who fulfill the criteria of being 'Blonde, Bad and Beautiful'.

Perhaps lacking the unbridled fury of their debut record, 'No Guts, No Glory' is nonetheless a decent record containing a mix of bonafide anthems - 'No Way But the Hard Way', 'Get Busy Livin' - and workmanlike by-the-numbers rock - 'Steel Town', 'Bottom of the Well'. Packed with adrenaline fuelled workouts, this is a good rock record: but they might just have a spectacular one in them.

[binnie]

From the vaults: Angel Witch - Angel Witch (1980)

Contrary to popular opinion, Diamond Head were not the only NWOBHM band brimming with potential who failed to make it. Angel Witch have become hugely influential, but they barely made a blip on the musical landscape when this record came out 30 years ago. Full of great melodic solos, huge riffs and powerful vocals, this was a very good record full of potential. Yes, there are plenty of appauling lyrics, but the enthusiasm makes up for that; and yes, the production budget was 'tight' to say the least, but the rawness only adds to the flavour of the songs. The title track is a gem - a hypnotic collection of proto-thrash; the soaring chorus on 'Atlantis' demonstrated the potential this band had; the soft-heavy Sabbath stomp of 'Sorceress' is thunderous. There are some clunkers - 'White Witch' for example - but the feel of the underground that drips from this record gives it a magic that todays highly produced, sonicly huge albums will never have. There are the seeds of a genre of music here that Iron Maiden would go on to master - listening back, you realize how different your record collection could luck if it had been this band, and not the Irons, who had been in the right place at the right time.

[binnie]

From the vaults: Bad Religion - No Substance (1998)

Unfairly maligned as a stinker in BR's unparalleled 30 years of quality punk rock, there was plenty to like on this record. The choppy time-changers of opener 'Hear It' grab the listener by the balls; the alt-rock crunch of the title track displays a hulking riff; and 'The Biggest Killer In American History' is typically anthemic. But somehow, this record feels a little more contrived than the solidified angst of other BR records - the departure of key songwriter Brett Gurewitz left a band searching around for a new direction whilst still clinging to the habits of old, a result which often leads to the banal ('The State of the End Of The the Millenium Address') or an uncomfortable new poppier direction - 'Raise Your Voice' sounds like Lou Reed writing for the Beach Boys, and it's ugly. Most of all, however, despite only clocking in at 40 minutes this records seems to go on forever - the absence of Gurewitz's more upbeat punk tunes allows the preaching of Garrafin to take its toll on thr listener. That being said, even when wounded BR are still a thousand times more interesting than the average punk band - it may not be spun too often by many of their hardcore fans, but tunes like 'The Voracious March of Godliness', 'Strange Denial' and 'The Same Person' make this far from a clunker. Even legends can have an off day.

[Blackflag]

Joe Bonamassa - Black Rock

Fantastic. A return to his earlier stripped-down blues style.

[binnie]

From the vaults: Biffy Clyro - Blackened Sky (2002)

Debut album from a bunch of Scottish oddballs who have spent the best part of a decade becoming one of the UK's leading rock bands. Most fittingly described as the missing link between Grunge and Prog, the band's songs are characterized by a mesmerizing swirl of time-changes, complex riffs and an orchestral approach to song-writing, all of which is held together by impossibly beautiful melodies. Imagine a Foo Fighters who were not embarrassed by the fact that they can play their instruments; or an Incubus that would embrace their progressive leanings. This is rock music with a brain and a soul - moving without being sentimental, powerful without being overpowering.

Opener 'joy.discovery.invention' is emblematic of the record - a brooding tune on which the band snaps from playing loose to incredibly tight at the drop of a hat. Those searching for metallic bombastry will be dissappointed - although songs like 'kill the old, torture their young' contain plenty of angst, this is a band in touch with their femine sides, most aptly expressed on closer 'scary mary'. This record was the shape of what was to come, the begins of a truly epic sounds which reached it's apex on fourth record 'Puzzle'. There are plenty of rough edges here, but this should be hailed as a modern classic - the moment at which musicianship and emotion crept back into chart music.

[binnie]

Slash - Slash

For a man whose past can only have taught him to expect trouble from singers, it might seem an odd choice to begin a solo career by working with over a dozen of them. Such is the weirdness of life that Slash insists that this is the easiest record he's ever made. It feels like it, too. The slick, light vibe which slips off this record is not what fans would customarily expect from Slash - this is a long way from the bomabastic schizo-sleaze rock of Guns 'n' Roses, or the ultra cool punk-angst of Velvet Revolver. Rather, what we have here is a polished rock record, and one in which we see Slash grow comfortably into his role as an 'elder statesmen' of the genre. That is not to say that this album sounds middle aged, but it certainly feels mature.

None of this is detrimental to the quality. Indeed, it is this record's surprises which are its strong points. Fergie seems an odd choice of partnering for a man whose has spent 25 years on the cusp of metal, but her vocal on 'Beautiful Dangerous' is outstanding, a nitro-charged wail over a dark and funky beat which is sown up in the best hook on this disc. Similarly 'Nothing To Say' - featuring M Shadows from heavy metal kings Avenged Sevenfold - is a welcome departure for the Top Hatted one. Easily the most metallic thing he's recorded to date, the track features frantic riffing and shredding solos the like of which many guitar snobs probably thought he couldn't play. Contrastingly, the record's quietest moment, 'Saint Is a Sinner Too' featuring the relative unkown Rocco DeLucca, is perhaps its strongest moment - a beautifully solomn guitar piece complimented with hushed vocals falling somewhere between Jeff Buckley and Elliot Smith. Surprised aplenty then - even Kid Rock remembers that he can sing on the southern rock flavours of 'I Hold On'. It's pretty damn good, too.

If anything, its the older guard who fall a little flat here. Ozzy Osbourne, bless him, tries his absolute damndest to steal the show, sounding as aggressive and focreful as he has in years, but also reminding this reviewer of Kermit the Frog, such is the 'studio magic' which is needed to get anything decent out of his larynx these days. Lemmy's 'Doctor ALibi' is a typical tale of rock 'n' roll excess over a hedonistic riff-fest, but it feels tired and generic by the standards of the legends playing on it. It's Page and Plant compared to the mess that is Iggy Pop's 'We're All Gonna Die', however, a lyrical performance so uninspired to be beneath a man who is - no arguments please - the most dangerous hellraiser that rock 'n' roll has ever birthed.

But such moments are overshone by the strength of the other songs here. Myles Kennedy wraps his unfeasibly talented pipes around two tunes: the blues rocker 'Back From Cali' and epic 'Starlight', and it is perhaps his vocals which match Slash's guitar tone most fittingly. Simiarly noteworthy is Ian Astbury's 'Ghost', which sees The Cult man on his finest form for quite some time. Anyone with ears could have done without Maroon 5's Adam Levine limp wristed 'Gotten', but overall you can't help but enjoy this album. There's certainly nothing classic here, but what we have is far beyond competent. These 'Santana' albums normally don't work - there usually feel smug an unfocussed. This one doesn't. What Slash has done has placed his ego to the side. He sits back, rather than dominating the songs, using his music to bring out the strenghts of each singer whilst still producing a modern rock record which feels very much like an album rather than a collection of songs. Well worth a listen.

[binnie]

Skindred - Shark Bites and Dog Fights

If I was to describe this as 'ragga metal' you'd probably stop reading. I can't think of a better term to encapsulate the sound of this Welsh crew, however. Crunching guitars and samples sit over punk arrangements, and vocalists Benji rythmically spits his lyrics over the top in a sound that recalls later-era Pitchshifter. The result of this sonic cocktail is a massic groove, most aptly captured in 'You Can't Stop It'. What makes this mixture of styles work so effectively is the band's pop sensibilities and skill in writing hooks, whether that be in 'Stand Up For Something' - a true anthem - or the almost trip-hop of 'Who Are You', with its soft vocal and emotive soundscapes. There is a lot to like here. There are a couple of clunkers in the midst - a cover of Eddy Grant's 'Electric Avenue' does little but put some big guitars on the original arrangement, and on 'Calling All Stations' the ideas well runs dry. That being said, this is a very solid record, and I'll bet you've never heard anything like it.

[binnie]

Baroness - Blue Album

This is heavy, bitterly heavy, but it ain't metal. Show Baroness a song constructed around chugga-chugga riffs in 4/4 and they'd probably find it immoral. Indeed, these Georgians don't really play songs - these are pieces of music, almost suites, which breate and pulsate, swan dive and soar across luscious musical landscapes which feel to have no time. Somewhere between sludge metal and prog rock, this manages to be uplifting, far more sonorous than your average extreme metal band - if this all sounds pretentious, it shouldn't, for despite being complex, Baroness are not needlessly showy. Their music is devoid of nod-and-wink muso smirking, and the band play as one - guitarists Peter Adams and John Baizley weld their instruments into one, and drummer Allen Bickle peppers each track with intonations and subtelties. Moreover, this is brutally raw. Indeed, the production is so crisp and sparse that it feels almost live, an added slice of humanity which invites you to become absorded in their swirl of riffs and throbbing drums beats.

The 'Blue Record' is painted in many hues. Expounding their stoner credentials on the explosion of 'Jake Leg', the sonic bombast is juxtaposed with acoustic lament of 'Steel That Sleeps The Eye'. A punkier version of fellow Georgians Mastodon, Baroness can more than hold their own with their more successful cousins, and pieces like 'Ogeechee Hymnal' and 'A Horse Called Golgotha' sound like the earth opening up and bellowing. If 'O'er Hell and Hide' feels like a wasted opportunity, you can easily forgive it in the face of the quality here.

This is a challenging listen, but a rewarding one. Those looking for a verse-chorus-verse-chorus band will be frustrated, but those of an adventurous bent will be rewarded. If Baroness learn the value of unity they will one day deliver a classic. On the 'Blue Record', as with the 'Red Record' before it, each piece of music feels distinct and not necessarily realted to the other - this is a series of concertos not related to a larger symphony. If the lesson of coherence is learnt, Baroness will one day deliver a record that is inspiring rather than inspired.

[binnie]

Fear Factory - Mechanize

It opens with industrial noises, a presage of the metallic precision which is about to kick in. The familar BOOM of double bass patterns sandwiched perfectly with short, punchy staccato riffs and roaring vocals usher in the rythmic assault that is Fear Factory - they are back!

In the mid '90s there were four metal bands that really mattered: Pantera, Sepultura, Machine Head and Fear Factory. These were the four bands taking the remnants of thrash and welding it to underground influences to produce music of new visceral vibrancy. But Pantera imploded, post-Max Cavelera Sepultura made records of increasing mediocrity, and until five years ago Machine Head, like Fear Factory, seemed to have faded away. 'Mechanize' is Fear Factory's 'Blackening' - a bold statement of reinvention that is startling in its hunger, vision and, most importantly, its sheer aggresssion. Indeed, the band hasn't seemed this brutal since 'Soul Of A New Machine' waaaaaay back in 1992. Maybe its the influx of new blood - a new rhythm section of drum God Gene Hoglan (Dark Angel, Strapping Young Lad, Forbidden) and Byron Stroud replicate the mechanical precision of old, but add a new intensity to it, a perfect foil for the tort riffage of Dino Cazares. The results are vitriolic: the sonic savagery of 'Industrial Disciple', the brutal precision of 'Powershifter' and death metal tinges of 'Fear Campaign' are staggering in their rawness, and it is on listening to them that you realize just how indebted the modern metal landscape is to this band. Most of all, however, you realize how talented vocalist Burton C Bell is - every band that switches from gutteral bark to melodic chorus is ripping this guy off, and few possess the pipes to compete. Cookie Monster vocals are the easiest way for a band to sound generic, and it takes a vocalist with real charisma, with real feel, to make them distinct - Bell has always managed to do that, his rythmic delivery making these songs memorable. On 'Christploitation' everything clicks perfectly, and it will be the most masterul piece of metal you hear this year: whether charging like a bull on the edge of a heart attack, or brushing over the listener with dark, intricate interludes, this is the essence of Fear Factory in one song.

Closing with epic 'Final Exit' - which ends with an almost hymnal electric symphany - you realize what it is that seperates bands like this from the countless others in their wake: the writing of ALBUMS rather than compiling a body of songs. It is a curious irony that a band whose subject matter has always been so obsessed with the potential and dangers of technology that in the Ipod age of pick 'n' mix music, they would consciously produce a record so retro in its approach - a musical journey which is far, far, more than the sum of its parts.

Near perfect.