Just how does a musician follow-up an award-winning, career-defining album?
After recording the lush and genre-defying Wrecking Ball album with star producer Daniel Lanois, Emmylou Harris decided her next project should come directly from her.
So in between recording albums with Dolly Parton and Linda Ronstadt and organizing a tribute album for her late mentor Gram Parsons, Harris set pen to paper — or perhaps words to guitar chords — and created Red Dirt Girl, only the second album she self-wrote.
Rather than reuse the atmospherics of Wrecking Ball, Harris enlisted producer Malcolm Burn — who worked with Lanois on Wrecking Ball — to create a sound approximating the feel of the album’s title.
What results is a ruddy, dreamy backdrop over which Harris deploys her rich poetic imagery. It’s a sharp contrast to the studio gloss of both Trio II and Western Wall albums from last year.
(The most convenient comparrison is Midnight Oil’s 1996 album Breathe, which Burn produced and on which Harris sang background vocals.)
Harris recognizes her strengths as an aritst and does everything to enhance them. Hence, she stuck mainly to interpreting other people’s work, fearing that she would write a bad song.
So does Emmylou Harris the interpreter compare with Emmylou Harris the songwriter?
Yes and no.
From track to track, the material on Red Dirt Girl stands firmly next to some of the songs by Harris’ peers. But as an album, Red Dirt Girl often seems to bathe in its low-key dreaminess a bit too much.
There doesn’t seem to be the same kind of emotional arc as her interpretive work, and after a while, one track tends to blend into the next.
Ah, but not every album needs to be driven by a theme, and if it’s moments of quiet, dark beauty you seek, Red Dirt Girl offers a good hour’s worth of satisfaction.
Out of all the kinds of rock music a person can encounter in Japan, grunge and post-grunge never seem to have found many Japanese counterparts.
Rock bands such as Glay, L’Arc~en~Ciel, Luna Sea and Shazna are somewhat stuck in the early 80s, sporting sounds not too far removed from Def Leppard, the Outfield, the Cure or all of them at the same time.
Then there are the punk bands such as Number Girl and Mummy the Peepshow that worship their Gang of Four, Pixies and Dead Kennedy records.
Where are the Japanese bands that dug Mother Love Bone, Soundgarden, early Smashing Pumpkins and Jane’s Addiction?
Oblivion Dust seems to be it. (If you know of any, let me know.)
OD traffics in the post-punk, post-metal Pacific Northwest rock sound previously favored by Dragon Ash and perhaps most of the Western Hemisphere up until 1997.
Singer Ken Lloyd sports a half-British, half-Japanese ethnicity, allowing him to traverse both English and Japanese quite effortlessly. His voice sounds more reminiscent to Jay Gordon of Orgy or a more talented Marilyn Manson, even on tracks where he attempts to channel Eddie Vedder.
With American Ray McVeigh at the production helm of OD’s albums — Reborn being the band’s third — the group sounds positively tough against its more chart-topping peers.
Like FEED, Oblivion Dust is very distinguishable among Japanese bands but quite indistinguishable among American bands. If the group were recorded and releasing albums in the States four years ago, they would have been a potential great international crossover.
But commercial considerations aside, Oblivion Dust performs the kind of big chord, big gesture rawk music that’s so unfashionable in a teenybop world.
There’s nothing particularly new about Reborn, aside from the songwriting. The riffs are all there, but they somehow sound just different enough to warrant some attention.
Either that, it’s just cool to hear Pearl Jam-like rock sung in Japanese.
After the huge commercial success of Cosmic Thing back in 1989, the B-52’s titled its following album with the prophetic moniker Good Stuff. It didn’t live up to its name.
As unexpectedly as the B-52’s rose to international success in the early 1990s, the group just as unexpectedly disappeared from public view for the rest of the decade.
In lieu of new material from the B-52’s itself — does the greatest hits collection Time Capsule really count? — singer Kate Pierson brings the Athens, Ga., band’s trademark pop to Japan.
NiNa, a sort of Japanese supergroup/side project, features a number of high-profile members: singer Yuki from Judy and Mary, songwriter and musician Sakuma Masahide from the Plastics, plus Pierson herself.
(The group’s line-up is rounded out by Shima Takemi, billed as “conceptualist and visual agent provocateur”, and an American rhythm section of Mick Karin and Steven Wolf.)
NiNa’s first self-titled album is the album the B-52’s never recorded after Cosmic Thing. Pierson’s hippy vibe dominates the disc, from the environmentally-minded-but-silly “Hairspray” to the Day-Glo pop of “Happy Tommorow” (not to be confused with the ’60s song “Happy Together”.)
Yuki provides a raspy, ruddy foil to Pierson’s clear soprano. She’s no Cindy Wilson, and that works in her favor.
For the most part, NiNa is mostly sung in English, but Yuki throws in a number of verses in Japanese, and Pierson does a brave turn singing back-up in Japanese on “Rest in Peace.”
Would this album have been a hit in the States? Just maybe. “Aurora Tour”, “Happy Tomorrow” “Route 246” certainly share thematic and spiritual ties to “Roam”, “Deadbeat Club” and “Love Shack.”
The pricey import may strike some consumers as a bit painful in the pocketbook, but die-hard B-52’s fans would probably want to track this album down.
For all intents and purposes, L’Arc~en~Ciel has recorded the same album over and over again. The Japanese quartet’s songwriting covers a spectrum from second-rate Bacharach-ian pop to full-out rockers in total Pearl Jam vein.
Real follows last year’s double offering of ark and ray, the latter album marking a creative pinnacle in the group’s discography.
So what does “Laruku” do for an encore?
At the start of Real, Hyde and company take the glossy sheen that’s marked most of the group’s usual production aesthetic and throw it in the dirt.
Tracks such as “bravery” and “The Nepenthes” sound like they could have been recorded in Pavement’s garage. Even the haunting “Finale” begins with phonographic record noise.
There are also hints that L’Arc~en~Ciel are attempting to get on the Nine Inch Nails gravy train, sporting big synthesizers on “Neo Universe” and “get out from the shell.”
By the time the album ends, L’Arc~en~Ciel returns to being some sort of Japanese amalgam of the Cure and U2, doing away with the synthesizers and the basement-garage sound. In short, doing what they do best.
Sounds like a really scattered album, and on some level it is. While it still doesn’t knock ray off its mantle, Real certainly sports some ear-catching moments. Even the songs that could have sounded really sappy — “Time Slip”, “bravery” — don’t.
It’s a L’Arc~en~Ciel album through and through, and it’s one that makes a fine addition to an already existing L’arc collection.
Before Dragon Ash turned into phat beat quartet somewhere between the Beastie Boys and Beck, it was a rock band.
A very straight-forward, Seattle-by-means-of-Tokyo post-grunge band that fortunately doesn’t have an Eddie Vedder clone fronting it.
Mustang!, Dragon Ash’s 1997 debut album, only slightly hints at the hip-hop direction the group would eventually undertake.
Until then, Furuya Kenji was channelling Stone Gossard and Dave Grohl on such tracks as “One Way”, “Monkey Punch Monkey Kick” and “Rainy Day and Day.” Given his propensity to steal some song titles from Smashing Pumpkins — “Siva” on this album; “Cherub Rock” on Buzz Songs — he may have been channeling some Billy Corgan and James Iha as well.
The results are a collection of some extremely likeable hooks when the group decides to rock out — which is unfortunately scattershot between some just-as-likeable introspective moments.
Mustang!, it seems, is a textbook example of what lousy sequencing can do to an album. The songs on the album are terrific individually, but there’s just this sense that when Dragon Ash was ready to rock, the next song brought the mood way down.
Hmmm. Didn’t it seem that Dragon Ash had the same problem two years later with Viva La Revolution?
However diverse the group’s origins and subsequent output may be, they still haven’t mastered the art of honing track sequence. Ah well — a minor transgression.
Mustang! is still a good rock album.
P.S. I didn’t realize the hook on “Grateful Days” is the same on “Cowboy Fuck!” Clever.
Emilio Estfan would like you to believe that Vallejo is the rock ‘n’ roll version of the so-called Latin Explosion.
Compared to other rock bands hailing from Central and South America, Vallejo sounds downright white-washed next to Café Tacuba, Molotov, or even Maná.
As Marc Anthony said time again, this alleged Latin Explosion doesn’t involve any Latin music and consists only of three people. Four, if you count Enrique Iglesias.
And while Jennifer Lopez singing in Spanish against a techno beat isn’t exactly merengue, Vallejo’s brand of Latin-tinged rock isn’t Led Zeppelin either.
On the band’s major label debut, Into the New, Vallejo actually sticks to a formula familiar on previous albums — big rock riffs, syncopated Latin rhythms and a thump-whack back beat.
It’s tough not to dig the larger-than-life guitar hooks on the title track or “Over You.” Nor is it easy to keep your head still on the rhythmically infectuous “Someway” or “I Go On.”
For a rock record, Into the New certainly lives up to task. As a Latin rock record, well — the influence is there, but you won’t find a spot on the Watcha Tour for them.
A Spanish-language version of the album is expected in the next few months, so maybe — just maybe — you’ll find Vallejo and the Chris Perez Band on the same bill.
Dammit. I hate good albums that don’t reveal their excellence right away.
There’s a maxim that states, “Never trust an album that takes more than three listens to like,” and Dr.StrangeLove’s Twin Suns fails that test miserably.
The first few listens of Twin Suns leaves listeners with the impression that the Japanese duo of Takamune Negishi and Susumu Osada are studio whizes who aren’t necessarily the best interpreters of their own songs.
Takamune has already made a name for himself as a producer, most notably lending his prowess to Cocco and her scorching brand of rock.
But after a while, it becomes apparent that Dr.StrangeLove’s brand of expertly-crafted, fiercely-independent pop music could be written and performed by no one else.
The album starts out incredibly promising with a title track that’s pretty much a drummer’s showcase. The harmonic guitar hook, while catchy, isn’t the real focus of the song.
After that, Takamune and Susumu trade very untrained vocals on a series of songs that range from neo-Duane Eddy twang-rock (“Be Off the Moon”) to drum ‘n’ bass-driven pop (“The Wild Age”) to mid-90’s psychedelia (“Love on the Air”) to ambient, Lennon-esque balladry (“Dolly”)
This album is gloriously all over the place, and after a while, the pair’s lethargic, off-key vocals aren’t all that bad.
But man — the marketing department at Pony Canyon probably lost a lot of sleep trying to figure out how to plug this album. An American indie label would probably have just as many problems.
Dr.StrangeLove embraces bits of electronica and a whole lot of post-punk, early-psychedlia in its songs, and it’s a combination that’s rings familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
All right. Finally. A teen-marketed band that self-respecting music critic-wannabes can half-way appreciate.
England’s BBMak distinguishes itself from the ‘N’Syncs, Backstreet Boys and LFOs of the world by writing their own songs and playing their own instruments.
Of course if you can write your songs and play your own instruments, what are doing dashing out radio-friendly ear candy about love gone awry than trying to push the envelope of rock music excess?
Oh. That’s right. Rock is dead.
In any case, BBMak’s music traffics in the usual teen-scene gestures of strategically-placed falsettoes, syrup-smooth vocal harmonies, immediately gratifying hooks and oh-so-earnest, heart-wrenched lyrics.
Thankfully, BBMak has also wrapped such predictable affair in guitar-driven, thump-whack-drummed pop music. This trio is a bunch of white boys from England — they’re not going to pretend to be Boyz II Men or New Edition.
They will, however, pretend to be George Michael, as demonstrated on “Unpredictable.” And on the infectous first single, “Back Here,” they might even sound like a sugar-coated version of an alternative pop band without the requisite Michael Stipe and/or Eddie Vedder clone.
BBMak could almost — just almost — be a Duran Duran of their generation: a band with looks and musical chops to have some semblance of longevity.
Twelve- and thirteen-year-olds devoted to their Britney or Christina or 98 Degrees would do well to pick up BBMak. In 2007, Sooner or Later won’t sound so embarrassingly dated.
A fan site for the Japanese rap-metal quintet Missile Girl Scoot sports as a monkier the headline for this review.
And it’s pretty damn accurate.
Missile Girl Scoot answers the question of what would happen if Rage Against the Machine wrote hook-filled choruses and were fronted by two Japanese women.
On Fiesta!, the band collects some of the most blistering but catchy rants to be set to aluminum.
Missile Girl Scoot make no qualms about what influences their music, often combining different styles in a single song.
“Big Mouth” alternates between ska and metal. “Gaze Into Space” sports dub chanting while breaking into a psychedelic chorus.
“One Track Mind” is a straight-forward, double-time exercise in punk, while “No Needs” could have come right out of a marriage between the aforementioned Rage and The Real Thing-era Faith No More.
While the broken English of duo frontwomen Junn and U-Rie are buried under Tatsuya’s Jim Martin-tinged guitar work, the two women dominate the choruses of each song.
Listeners intent on rapping along with Missile Girl Scoot might have a hard time keeping up, but they can always hum along with the choruses.
In short, Fiesta! is … well, you can read that headline.
Channel: a jazz-influenced electronica band with buzzing guitars.
If only the major labels were remotely successful at bringing electronica to the mainstream back in 1997, people would have Boom Boom Satellites blasting out of their car stereos right about now.
Eh, but what do major labels know? They try to shove Prodigy and Chemical Brothers down our throats, and we — or rather some of our kids — shove them back with the Spice Girls and the Backstreet Boys.
Boom Boom Satellites write and perform the kind of electronica major labels wanted — thundering beats and twittering effects with enough guitars thrown in the mix.
On “Push Eject,” a growling Kawashima Michiyuki gives way to a guitar solo set over a collage of feedback pings, buzzing chords and tiny, repeated motifs that sound collectively disjointed.
It’s a beautiful mess of sound.
On “Limbo,” BBS sound like the Crystal Method, with a robotically processed vocal that intones, “I’m living in limbo/No man’s land.”
But once the Tokyo-based duo start layering double-time and half-time drum beats over each other, any resemblance to the Method pretty much fly out the window.
Hints of jazz also pop up through the Satellite’s music. “Intruder” is pretty much a programmed jazz drum solo. “An Owl” superimposes frenetic saxophone and muted trumpet solos over a frantic drum ‘n’ bass beat. “Batter the Jam No. 3” sports a psychelic flute solo that’s missing a Claude Bolling piano accompaniment.
Boom Boom Satellites is a band near the far end of the pop music spectrum. This kind of smart sonic collage creation is destined never to hit mainstream radio waves, but Out Loud does set a standard by which other bands aiming to do the same kind of musical food-processor-ing will be judged.