The Black Crowes Lions (V2)
The sixth Black Crowes record begins with "Midnight From the Inside Out," a feedback-riddled jam that never achieves liftoff. You fear that our neoclassic rock heroes have abandoned the boozy, supercharged verve of 1999's By Your Side and retreated into the listless psychedelia of 1994's Amorica. Hey, not so fast: "Lickin'" sports a lowdown groove, a leering vocal from the newly married Chris Robinson ("Now down there like a mule I'm kickin'/Girl, you gonna catch a lickin'") and a clipped riff from his bruh Rich. The Crowes know what their home strengths are. "Come On" suggests the Faces wanting to take you higher. But the heart of Lions lies in the best ballads the band has ever waxed, such as the Led Zeppelin III-esque "Soul Singing" and the churning "Losing My Mind." Can it be that the domesticity that ruined the band's role models is now giving the Black Crowes a new creative life? Can high-octane rock & roll and blissful valentines co-exist? Apparently so. (ROB KEMP)
Staind Break the Cycle (Flip/Elektra)
Since grunge blew away hair metal's sleazy glamour with emotional realism, there's been no turning back for misery rock. It's a genre that has loved company: Bands such as Nirvana, Nine Inch Nails, Smashing Pumpkins and Korn were loud-rock renegades, but their imitators have proved that it takes more than a good scream and a few hate-your-parents lyrics to stand out in an overcrowded field of despair. At first glance, Staind may look like a Korn tribute band. But within the first few seconds of Break the Cycle, they let loose enough Mothra-heavy riffs to prove they can rock circles around peers such as Limp Bizkit and fellow Bostonians Godsmack. Then Aaron Lewis takes the mike, and although his pained tunefulness and heart-on-sleeve lyrics don't exactly rewrite misery rock's rules, they do assert Staind as the grim genre's most song-oriented, downright sensitive band in years. As already demonstrated by "Outside," the acoustic hit from the Family Values Tour 1999 album, Staind don't need to split eardrums to open hearts. "I just needed someone to talk to," Lewis sings in "Fade," one of several woe-is-me tracks that would be wimpy if his buddies didn't kick butt. His sincerity is disarming -- and sometimes a little artless, as if he lifted rants directly from his diary. But the candid confessions and folksy melodiousness of "It's Been Awhile" nearly attain the poetic grace of a misery-rock milestone, Soundgarden's "Black Hole Sun." With hits like this, Staind may become the first new-metal band to break the generational barrier as they cross over to pop radio. What will they whine about then? (BARRY WALTERS)
Karl Denson Dance Lesson #2 (Blue Note)
Those who have heard Karl Denson's ferociously unfettered sax playing with his band Tiny Universe (or even in a more regimented setting with Lenny Kravitz) tend to be persuaded that he's one of the artists who will be keeping jazz vital in this new century. Unlike other players who are easily pigeonholed, Denson's sole musical agenda seems to be finding what works. On Dance Lesson #2, his first major-label release, what works is a series of roiling grooves overlaid with Denson's tirelessly inventive soloing -- building on styles forged by Roland Kirk, Sonny Rollins and others -- spelled only by similarly stellar efforts from his sidemen. Recruiting only drummer Zak Najor from his empathetic road band, Denson is surrounded here by the likes of Medeski, Martin & Wood bassist Chris Wood, Upsetters' guitar groovemaster Melvin Sparks, organist Leon Spencer, Jr. and scratcher DJ Logic. Standout tracks are the lyrical snippet "A Shorter Path #1," its amplified big brother "A Shorter Path #2" and the relentlessly funky twelve-minute "Who Are You?" on which Denson finally gets to properly unwind on his instrument. As fine as this album is, though, it is a mere map of the journeys his music takes in concert. Keep an eye on him! (JIM WASHBURN)
Rosie Flores Speed of Sound (Eminent)
A pretty manicure and a frilly skirt never stopped Rosie Flores from tossing off a rippin' guitar solo. This rockabilly filly has been wailing on her Gretch for the better part of three decades, including a stint with L.A. girl band the Screamin' Sirens. Her 1987 solo debut earned her a spot next to Dwight Yoakam and Steve Earle under the tag "new traditionalists" (whose music was neither new, nor traditional: Discuss). Never content to be a retro act, Flores has always bridged the rockabilly she loves (and lives) with rock, pop, swing -- and on Speed of Sound -- jazz. Her cover of "Don't Know If I'm Comin' or Goin'," sung in her lilting but surprisingly resilient vocals, evokes jazz singers of the mid-1930s; her own "Somebody's Someone" marries western swing fiddling (provided by Tammy Rogers) to gypsy jazz guitar. A faithful reproduction of Marshall Crenshaw's "Somewhere Down the Line" reveals Flores' poppier proclivities, while her version of Buck Owens' "Hot Dog" recalls the early Sun rockabilly that's closest to her heart. Flores' other originals, "Don't Take It Away," a blues-rocker with a Bo Diddley beat, and the spaghetti western-flavored title track (featuring the lap steel of ubiquitous multi-instrumentalist Greg Leisz) will make you glad she's still exploring the breadth of American music. (MEREDITH OCHS)
John Mayall & Friends Along for the Ride (Eagle)
John Mayall has always been best known by the company he keeps -- Eric Clapton, Mick Taylor and Jack Bruce, after all, served stints in his Bluesbreakers. Keeping that in mind, the fact that his latest disc boasts more special guests than a Master P album seems less like Santana-esque career desperation than business as usual for the sixty-seven-year-old bluesman. Clapton's absence this time around -- one assumes he was off riding with B.B. King or something -- may well handicap Along for the Ride's chances for picking up a Best Contemporary Blues Album Grammy. But the presence of players like Taylor, Billy Preston, Gary Moore, Billy Gibbons, Jonny Lang, Jeff Healy and Shannon Curfman should keep modern blues enthusiasts -- with a reunion of former Bluesbreakers/original Fleetwood Mac amigos Peter Green, Mick Fleetwood and John McVie thrown in for old-timers. But it's not the guests that hold the album together; it's Mayall's seasoned direction and spirited "everyone doin' all right?" vocals. In the grand scheme of rock & roll and blues history, Along for the Ride won't go down as a particularly important or groundbreaking album, but it's a fun listen. (RICHARD SKANSE)
Natacha Atlas Ayeshteni (Mantra)
Truly a citizen of the world, Natacha Atlas creates music that is a heady melange of European, North African and Middle Eastern elements. On Ayeshteni, motion and emotion establish a common ground where contemporary electronic dance rhythms dovetail elegantly with traditional Middle Eastern syncopation, instrumentation and Atlas's lilting, trilling vocals. "Fakrenha" is a glowing, swaying torch song embellished with piano, percussion and string flourishes; suave and driving, "Soleil D'Egypt" is reminiscent of Duran Duran at the height of its synth-pop power. Atlas gives Screamin' Jay Hawkins's "I Put a Spell on You" an exotic twist, translating the stark voodoo of the original into a mystical incantation. The heart of Jaques Brel's "Ne Me Quitte Pas" beats in French, but this version translates wistful accordion into pungent strings and saunters with a serpentine groove. Even if you don't understand Arabic, French or English, the spirit of these songs speaks loud and clear. (SANDY MASUO)
Mark Lanegan Field Songs (Sub Pop)
Yeah, everybody hurts -- and just about everybody is happy to spill the beans about that pain. The trick, however, is doing so in a way that makes the listener care and relate -- rather than feel like a nursery school teacher dealing with the class crybaby. Former Screaming Trees singer Mark Lanegan has an uncanny ability to not only get under your skin, but burrow into your soul. Admittedly, he starts with a decided advantage -- a scarred, sepulchral baritone that's as suited to a mournful wail (as on the Middle Eastern-tinged "No Easy Action") as it is to a libidinous murmur (in full effect on "Miracle"). Lanegan favors compact, dread-laced tales that fit squarely into the traditions of hill-country blues and country -- Hank Sr. would surely nod along to "Pill Hill Serenade." Interestingly enough, he takes the opposite tack when it comes to couching those tales, luxuriating in a sweeping drama that -- particularly on the Iberian-flavored "One Way Street" and the desperately keening "Don't Forget Me" -- makes for an undertow that's impossible to escape. (DAVID SPRAGUE)
To Rococo Rot and I-Sound Music Is A Hungry Ghost (Mute)
Call it post-rock and you're likely to get floored by an intense, icy glare. But how else to classify music that emphasizes minimalism, sounds like it uses bouncing ping-pong balls as a primary source of percussion, and was conceived in a Berlin art gallery? After six years of staying within the walls of the maze laid out by Chicago peers like Toroise and Slint, however, on its fourth album To Rococo Rot takes a promising turn. Collaborating with New York DJ and musician I-Sound, the group relaxes its rigid Krautrock stance and lets seductive dub rhythms and elastic hip-hop beats infiltrate the main. The results work particularly well on beat-heavy compositions like "From Dream To Daylight" and "Overhead," but still suffer from a determination to bore the daylights out of the average listener.(AIDIN VAZIRI)
For Stars We Are All Beautiful People (Future Farmer)
For whatever reason -- credit the terminal fog or generous bartenders --something about San Francisco breeds cinematic, poetic and bleary-eyed slow rock outfits. First came Mark Eitzel's cocktail crooning in the American Music Club then the unnervingly revelatory Mark Kozelek and his Red House Painters and now Carlos Forster and the For Stars complete the Bay Area triumvirate of brooding introspectors. The band's third full-length is a midnight marvel, a twinkling, spinning tour through heartbreak and uncertainly guided by Forster's lush whines. Where once their music merely backed their singer, the band has finally found its own voice. Walls of wash are built with jazzy drums, Moogs, clunking pianos and echoing guitars, a dense backdrop for Forster's lyrical collision of innocence and alienation. There are surprising hooks -- "How It Goes" suggests Blondie's "Dreaming" beneath a Robitussin sea -- but the stars are the gentler pieces. If "Back in France" and "People Party" don't stir you to deep reflection, you've gone numb. (GREG HELLER)
The Bicycle Thief You Come and Go Like a Pop Song (Artemis)
According to "Cereal Song," Bicycle Thief singer Bob Forrest found himself, at thirty-five years old, washing dishes in a restaurant. Not the most deserving job, perhaps, for the guy behind this combo as well as the once notoriously pharmaceutically-soaked Thelonious Monster . . . but consider the potential havoc this surly dude could wreak in a meaningful position, say, as a junior high guidance counselor. He tells his eternally bored adolescent son: education's a farce, only money matters and the answer is to "get stoned and watch TV." Facetious or not, Forrest is at his best when delivering disturbing news. Originally issued in 1999 with several tracks now added and re-recorded, . . . Pop Song is fueled by a blunt honesty that causes Forrest's friends to relocate and warn others about the "asshole" in their midst. But it also makes for the kind of heartfelt intimacy best associated with Paul Westerberg and eavesdropping. (ROB O'CONNOR)
(May 7, 2001)