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Basic Food Group

Sometimes while sitting at a bus stop, I'll find myself entranced by the doings of a few sparrows. As they hop and flit about, an explanation for their actions appears in my head: they're encountering old friends, flirting with people, or just enjoying the sunshine.

Basic Food Group are musical sparrows. They examine a riff for a short while, pick it up to see if it interests them, then quickly flit on to another with a quick movement that is almost unseen--one moment they're here, the next over there, acting as if they've been there the entire time. Weaving amongst themselves, the instrumental trio of Steve Boyles (guitar), Todd Larson (bass) and Rik Sferra (drums) take short turns coming forward to flirt with the listener in the hopes of a scrap of attention (and possibly a morsel of food), then darting back to rejoin his compatriots playing in the background. As a result, the album is not so much a collection of individually composed songs as it is one extended capture of a three-musician interplay. One moment can be a strongly-united march tempo, the next borders on dischord and is suitable for falling down stairs to, but throughout it is light and entertaining; full of short grooves that worm their way into the base of your spine, and quality sounds using a minimum of electronic gear. Highlights include the loose-strung bass buzz of "A Day at the Hysterical Farm," the head-bobbing drive of "Suburbs (Revisited)" and the finale "Born Out of a Dream," which is the most evocative of its title of any of the more goofily-named tracks here.

Sparrows may not be the most deeply inspirational animals, but they're always an entertaining diversion, and I have yet to come away from watching them without a tiny smile on my face.

-Paul Goracke
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Joanne Brackeen

I took piano lessons for four years and I can truly appreciate the dexterity and quickness she displays throughout this album. On "Tico Tico" I felt as if Brackeen might have had one too many Seattle-famous cups of espresso. That, or she has a second pair of hands, because breathtaking barely does her work here justice. Done in 5/4 time, she and John Patitucci on bass must have needed a break when they were through with this number. At this insane pace, both still manage to pull off mesmerizing solos and provide the listener with another memorable moment.

If Joanne had left out Kurt Elling's vocal performance on track 4 "What's Your Choice, Rolls Royce?" the album would be perfect. Kurt comes off like a cheesy lounge singer on this number, making me quickly reach for the advance button on my remote moments after he started. This aside, I would recommend this CD to anyone who enjoys piano jazz. Joanne Brackeen is a one of a kind soloist and composer! If you're a lover of piano jazz, this is a must for your collection.

-Cecil Beatty-Yasutake
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-Sabrina Wade Haines
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Feederz

This is the re-release of the Feederz first album, most of which was recorded after Frank Discussion arrived in San Francisco. Wanting to take money out of the pockets of those collectors who were selling the hard-to-find original album at $300 or more, and dissatisfied with the poorly EQ'd masters, Frank has remixed the album and has released something much closer to what the original should have sounded like. Complete with the same skateboard grip tape that was on the cover of the original album--designed to "destroy all objects it comes in contact with"--and containing a very nice six-panel poster, Ever Feel Like Killing Your Boss? is a history lesson in what hardcore is about, and who one of its most notorious bands is. From the fist-in-the-air of "Have You Never Been Mellow," to flipping the finger in the face of religion with "Jesus," the Feederz sound like the Dead Kennedys' ugly brother. 17 years since its release, the Feederz message, their snarl, their lack of courtesy and tact, is still as undiluted and powerful as ever, arguing that punk is much more than just a price tag at the local thrift store or a genre label in the record bin. As Frank Discussion put it: "We are your modernized negation playing at the end of your society. Have a nice day now."

-Craig Young
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Fugazi

There is a scene in the first half of the Instrument film showing the band playing at St. John's Gym in Philadelphia back in 1988. Brendan Canty's drum kit is set up directly underneath a basketball hoop. And while singer/guitarist Guy Picciotto hovers on the edge of Canty's setup, facing the back wall and singing "Glue Man," he suddenly grabs onto the rim of the basketball hoop with mic in hand and hoists himself up, legs first, through the underside of the rim. Frantically kicking through the netting, he succeeds in getting the lower half of his body through the rim, locks his legs underneath the backboard and continues to sing while hanging upside-down. All this takes place in about 5 seconds. All while the rest of Fugazi continue playing.

The display is reflective of the Fugazi experience and captures the essence of both the film and soundtrack. Sometimes absurd, always with passion, never missing a beat.

The film collaboration between Jem Cohen and the band is a menagerie of footage filmed over the band's decade-plus history. Not so much a documentary as it is a visual release, it inter-splices song outtakes and demos with live performances shot using (mostly) Super 8 film. It's very compelling both visually and aurally, and doesn't so much tell a story as it paints a picture. Something you can absorb and experience without ever being told (or even caring) that you might be looking at it (or they might be singing) upside-down. Highlights include the above-mentioned basketball reverse dunk, the band cajoling a violent crowd member for being an "ice cream eating motherfucker," the Eastern Middle School interview with Ian MacKaye and Guy, and Fugazi playing in front of thousands at the Washington Monument in 1993 for the Martin Luther King, Jr. Concert for Justice, marking the 30th anniversary of the March on Washington.

The Instrument soundtrack is much like the film. Comprised exclusively of demos and outtakes, it's a rare look at Fugazi's creative process offstage. For those who think the band have lost their hard musical edge, there's not much here to appease you--save your money. But for those with the ability to listen, and who don't wear such narrowly defined musical blinders, Instrument is an amazing invitation into the deeper processes of their songwriting method. Most of the songs here that made the final cut on albums are without vocals, leaving the listener with slowed down--and at times almost completely different--versions of the songs. The rest finds the band in a variety of musical personalities, from the tongue in cheek "Me and Thumbelina" to the heavy down-beat of "Little Debbie" to Ian's melancholy voice and piano on "I'm So Tired." The album closes with "Slo Crostic," its slow build and the tension it creates ending much too soon.

Instrument is a rare display of Fugazi in all three dimensions. Through the camera lens we are given glimpses of what drives the band both on and off stage. With the soundtrack we are offered pre-formative pieces of music that hint at the sounds of things to come. Through both we are shown, with little explanation or direction, the passion and intensity that drive the band and the transcendent quality--for both fans and bandmembers--that is Fugazi. Ian MacKaye: "It's like a moment; it's like a full release. For me, playing...performing or playing, is as close to being free as I've ever felt in my life. It is by far the most extreme kind of feeling I've ever had. Incredibly satisfying and addictive...and you can't stop doing it."

-Craig Young
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Force Inc.

You give her Gas. And not in the "I'm going to send out a case of refried beans" kind of way. You give her German Black Forest Minimal Techno music. Why? Because of all the fun she'll have picking out the classical bits that make up the background ambience of the King's forest.

Gas is one of many nom de plumes assumed by Wolfgang Voigt, a German studio magician who has devoted his attention these last few years to plumbing the depths of minimal ambient beats. His latest release under the Gas moniker is a continued evolution of a heartbeat techno rhythm wrapped around the distant chatter of static and lost melodies, very much like the sound of your heartbeat as you wander through the Schwartzenwald and hear nearly familiar sounds at the edge of your consciousness. The tracks are unnamed and can be distinguished only by the change in their ambience. The beat may creep forward a bit in one track and then die off again in the next, but it is constant--the regular beat of the blood in your ears. There's a little bit of something from one of Laswell's ambient ventures mixed in, something choral over here, and something definitely from Holst lurking around this bush. Layered over all of it is just enough static vinyl pop to make you listen, to make you consciously pay attention to what is whispered at the edges.

Voigt seeks to elucidate the dark corners of the forests, to find connection between the skitter of small creatures and the lumbering thunder of larger beasts with the brush of wind through the trees and the moan of old stones. Under an atmosphere filled with the residual noise of human civilization, he builds a soundtrack for the lost wanderer in the black woods.

Hey, Erika, did I guess right? Track 5. Is that Holst? Mars, even? See, I'm not a total lost cause.

-Mark Teppo
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Ginuwine

So picture this. I'm chillin in the crib, enjoying a few hours of the Theatre of the Mindless (aka TV), watching that music channel that's more TV than music lately, when boom, The music box-like keyboard intro to "What's So Different" fills my living room. What the...? That's as far as my thoughts got, next thing I know, trademark dyslexic drum kicks start my feet instantly tappin'. Mr. Timbaland is in the House and he's brought his main man Ginuwine with him. Damn these freakin MJ-inspired moves are killin me. What's the Gloved One up to anyway? No time to check that, he's bustin more fly moves than an NBA dance squad (Sonic Girls excluded). I bounce over to my phone, call the lovely young twentysomething and I inform her it's time to do some more club research. I feel a sudden burst of inspiration. That done, I turn back to the set just in time to find Ginuwine in larger-than-life fashion, complete with Godzilla roar sound samples to accentuate the point, putting the "all that and a bag of chips"-finishing touches on a jaw-dropping performance. Yeah, OK Timbo, I get the point, I'm out! Thirty minutes later I'm back in the spot with a few CDs in tow: Nas, Ginuwine and DMX. I've gotta stop watchin the damn tube so much, these videos are breakin my budget.

After listening to the whole 100% Ginuwine CD, I came to the following conclusions. One, the CD is chock-full of slow songs, but not your usual "I love you, I want you" fare. Two, apparently playboy looks don't guarantee happiness. For more on that, listen closely to the words on "What's So Different" (the only up tempo song on the album) or "I'm Crying Out." For a naughty tale, see "Do You Remember." Missing that someone special? Check out "So Anxious." Man, talk about carnal anticipation. Timbaland's production and infamous beat skills shine throughout, and with the exceptions of "Wait a Minute," and the MJ tribute/remake "She's Out of My Life," every track on the CD is a keeper. Consider 100% Ginuwine a keeper-slash-mood-setter. I just wish I could have gotten one or two more up-tempo tracks like "What's So Different"--I need to steal a few more moves!

-Cecil Beatty-Yasutake
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-Steve Weatherholt
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Heaven's Burning

Good stuff for those missing those Mod days (listen to "Shout" and "The Box").

For more info, contact the band at: heavensburning@juno.com or Heaven's Burning, PO Box 91757, Pasadena, CA 91109.

-Hope Lopez
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"Goblin Queen" rocks hard with a heavy punk influence. "Viva Santo (Santo Vs. The World)" has a bit more rock influence with a semi-black metal guitar solo. "It Won't Die" reminds one of AC/DC mixed up with Kim Fowley mixed with the Misfits sporting strangely possessed Hetfieldish vocals (at one point they even do the Butthole Surfer distort-a-voc). "Monster Maker" just roars out of the starting gate and rides out a great rock-inflected rev-up melody to the bitter end. "King Cadaver" is an intense rocker that you just gotta ride out and then you're addicted. You'll be listening all afternoon. Every song rocks and every song is very tongue-in-cheek, but the humor may not be for all. If you thought the Meatmen, Cramps or Misfits were good, find yourself laughing aloud at horror movies at inappropriate times, are not p.c. at all, like your music harder than AC/DC but not as hard as Meshuggah, then you might just be a candidate for Impaler. If, on the other hand, gruesome pictures and jokes repulse you, your highest level of horror movies is "Willie Wonka" and you never liked the Meatmen, Misfits or Gwar, then you might not wanna even come close to this cd, cause it might bite.

-Sabrina Wade Haines
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-Sabrina Wade Haines
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Jesus Martyr

-Sabrina Wade Haines
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I recently discovered minimal techno. As always, I'm behind those true frontierspeople who have blazed a trail to find this music and, even as I arrive, the genres are already twisted and nearly untraceable in their cross-pollination. But there are a few who I've found worth focusing on: Thomas Brinkmann, Wolfgang Voight, and Tomas Jirku. Jirku's disc is an enveloping firmament of blissful tones; subtle beats which wash back and forth across you as distant chimes are stretched out across the horizon. Some of the tracks are named after sub-(sub)-atomic particles and feel like pulses gathered from high-powered microscopes as they observe the passage of these particles. The thump of the heavier ones, the mournful resonance of two mesons touching, the shpang of gluons ricocheting off one another, the creep of the pion, and the lament of the baryon. There's a whole world down here and Jirku has discovered it; he has tuned his ear so finely that he has heard the sound of these particles and has captured their movement on disc. Immaterial is minimalism (and I'm talking in simple electronically crafted music terms here) at its finest. It works softly, a subtle undercurrent to your normal environment; it works loudly, the bass rumbling and pulsating with its own heartbeat; and it works in the median range as well, a crafty dreamscape to lull your over-exerted mind. Immaterial is a sonic gem which constantly adapts itself to the environment, its facets never failing to amaze and captivate.

-Mark Teppo
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Johnny Vegas

But back at your place, the CD seems to match the decor. Not bad, just missing a certain style. Sure, there's a catchy Billy Joel-ish song of longing ("See You Again"), and the singer has an appealing presence (somewhere between Glen Philips of Toad the Wet Sprocket and Brad Roberts of Crash Test Dummies, two bands the group also occasionally sounds like). But the album too often plays it safe. By the time melody drifts into the guitar work on one of the last tracks ("Jeans in Years"), it's too late to divert your hormonally-occupied attention.

But about the time you were fumbling with her bra, the band did show promise; on "Driving Days," silence spoke as loudly as the instruments, and growing older was tackled in a way you could relate to ("Being stoned is no way to live...Said goodbye to some old, old friends. Tried hard to let them in.")

Of course, you would have related to it if you were in fact listening. But you weren't. Will Johnny Vegas break into the big time? Who knows? You got laid.

-Brian Cassidy
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Killengod

-Sabrina Wade Haines
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And as fate would have it, I never got around to actually reviews on either of these two compilation CD's or the other two releases rounding out the set, Jazz for the Quiet Times which featured stately hard bop and soul jazz, and Jazz for When You're Alone, which has everything from cool soul and groove to more hard hop. Priced at a mere $8.99 when I purchased them, any of these compilations would make a nice addition to your collection, just pick a theme of interest and enjoy!

So, five months later you can imagine my surprise when my editor approached me about doing other reviews. Was he serious or just getting even for my earlier half-hearted attempt at humor? As you've probably guessed by now, he was serious, so here goes.

My earlier hesitations aside, Mr. Lahm's Jazz Takes on Joni Mitchell is an excellent piece of work, especially if you're a fan of her music. He didn't rearrange the songs to the point that they were no longer recognizable. Instead, he worked with their original structure and let that dictate what style of jazz would be used. One of my favorite tracks is "Song for Sharon." Here, David Friedman on vibes shines while a core of highly competent musicians provides the perfect muted backdrop to his brilliant and raindrop-like vibes work. On "Edith and the Kingpin" Lahm in his liner notes says, "The song has modal harmonies like the Miles Davis-Gil Evans recordings, and Miles' Kind of Blue. Randy Brecker's performance on the flugelhorn paints a painful picture of happiness lost, a dark and dreary day. The ultimate sad ballad.

Lahm's work on the piano throughout is masterful and made me think of an old Marine saying: "Lead, follow or get out of the way." His playing does these three things with artful instinct throughout the CD to make the whole thing come together nicely. If you like piano jazz and are a fan of Joni Mitchell, give it a listen. You might just end up taking it home with you.

-Cecil Beatty-Yasutake
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Derek Trucks Band
Out of the Madness
PGD/House of Blues

Links:
Otis Rush
Derek Trucks

Otis Rush's latest, Any Place I'm Going, a deserving 1999 Grammy winner, is a masterful work from the Chicago-school legend. Even the album's weakest track (a cover of Marvin Gaye's "Pride and Joy"), in Rush's hands manages to convince. Though it sounds to be a stab at an adult-contemporary radio hit, Rush's smooth confident licks and fiercely believable vocals save the track from becoming some yuppie's over-produced radio request. Nineteen-year-old slide guitarist Derek Trucks (nephew of Allman Brothers' drummer Butch Trucks) has obviously learned much from Rush's slow careful deliveries. Though Kenny Wayne Shepard may receive more press, "Out of the Madness" proves Trucks has the greater musical vocabulary. Sure, passionate blues numbers abound (most notably a deliciously greasy version of Sonny Boy Williamson's "Good Morning Little School Girl"), but Trucks' also includes freer, more jazz-based numbers reminiscent of his first album (and, naturally, of the Allman Bothers with whom he tours this summer). On these tunes one can hear Trucks' claims to have been influenced as much by John Coltrane and the late Pakistani singer Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, as John Lee Hooker or Clapton. Unlike Otis, Trucks may have not yet truly found his voice, but that's all right--he has diverse resources, and plenty of time.

-Brian Cassidy
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Sepsism

-Sabrina Wade Haines
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Sister Machine Gun

"Recorded at Warzone," the liner notes read and you know immediately that some of that dense industrial-edged funk which was so perfected with Die Warzau's Engine will be found here, though Randall has taken some of the clatter out of the Warzone Funk and infused it with his own directives...smart, edgy hooks and that crooner's voice of his. Free of big label oppression, Randall formed Positron Records to continue his musical revolution on his terms and gave us first an album of electronic noodling...the self-titled Micronaut record.

It was a different direction, one more of synth washes and "bleep & bloop" type melodies. Dance music for a near-robotic generation with still enough human flesh to remember how to shake their booties. And for those who worried that the Micronaut project would be the death of SMG, their relief and exultation could be heard for miles when they received their copy of the new SMG album, [R]evolution. Randall has taken everything uncovered and discovered through the course of the Micronaut album and wedded it to the trademark guitar-laden funk which had been the recognizable sound of Sister Machine Gun.

[R]evolution plays like a concept album, each song running into the next with funky breakdown bridges between the tracks and a self-contained cycle of the repetitive snap of the empty record groove. After the pirate radio sound of the opening "Libertad," we're thrown into a trio of songs which reward us with the recognizable SMG sound (the radio friendly hits, if I can be so crass). The verses are built around a spotlit emphasis on the vocalist bent over his microphone and then the choruses explode, heat and light thrown off by the burst of sonic sound which rises out of the disc.

And then, something amazing happens. We're transported from a starkly lit industrial warehouse to the back lounge of Viva La Velvet on the Las Vegas strip. "Transient One" opens with a quirky synthetic melody, an electronic pop song which wouldn't be entirely out of place at your sister's wedding. Then the voice snakes its way into your ear, that breathy curl of a man wrapped around his microphone, seducing you from the half-lit stage. And he even coaxes that mournful David Gilmourian lament from the guitar for the break. You check the CD sleeve as "Transient Two" begins, flush with that electric pulse which speaks of the Micronaut project, wondering if there's been a mastering problem and you've got something else thrown into the middle here. But Randall's masterful ability to weave a hook through your shoulder blades has already ensnared you and the lazy locomotive pace of this track rushes you away.

We're working our way back to the dark waters of Lake Michigan, as the '40s jazz feel of "Closer to Me" breaks down into a funky guitar/percussion wrestling match until "Wrong," "Vibrator," and "Autoloader" show us the commingling of the separate styles heard earlier. Randall the lounge lizard comes attached to the snarling guitar funk, both riding a bouncy bed of electronic beats. Chris Randall is recrafting the shape of the musical landscape with the independent direction of Sister Machine Gun. More power to him. The world needs more crooners.

-Mark Teppo
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Sleater-Kinney

Hot Rock opens up with "Start Together," the mid-tempo intro exploding mid-verse into a fuzz of low-end guitar. "If you want me it's changing / if you want everything's changing." The album then drops into the quiet, brooding title track (taken from the Robert Redford movie of the same name); its subtle analogy meditating on the power imbalance some loves bring. "God is a Number" is another take on power imbalances, this time a harsh look at modern society and it's effect on us ("Grow up on the internet, get off on t.v. / tell me about God and Country, music, heart and history / Answer me with computations, answer me with industry"). "Banned from the End of the World" is the most levelheaded look at the millennium hype to date ("Banned from the end of the world / I've no millennial fear / the future is here, it comes every year"). The vocal intro to "Get Up" sounds very much like Kim Gordon's voice on "Tunic (Song for Karen)" from Sonic Youth's Goo album, and I can't help but wonder if the title "A Quarter to Three" is a sly nod to friend and former label mate, Elliott Smith, who has a song titled "2:45 am" on his last Kill Rock Stars album, Either/Or.

Stepping away from the noise and tempo of their last album, Dig Me Out, Sleater-Kinney have begun to realize their creativity as artists. Having not sacrificed any of their power, they've instead begun to paint pictures with a larger palette of colors. Roger Moutenot helps the band realize this potential with his subtle production touches, from the "ooh's," "aah's" and harmonium on the album's closer, "A Quarter to Three," to the melancholy viola on the lonely and sparse "The Size of Our Love." All the press hubbub aside, Sleater-Kinney continue to prove that what matters is their vision and how they form their music from it. The rest is secondary, and The Hot Rock is unarguable evidence of that.

-Craig Young
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-Sabrina Wade Haines
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Links:
David Thomas

[look for earpollution's profile and interview with david thomas in july's issue. --ed.]

-Brian Cassidy
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Lee Totten

Jangly guitars, simple and clear lyrics with straight-ahead harmonies, Totten's songs are catchy, tongue-in-cheek. His vocals are twangy at times but distinctly raspy and strong. "Lottery" is a song that ponders the idea of winning one, something that everyone could relate to. "Hurts Like Hell" is the sentimental tune off the album, sure to be a hit on pop radio. The track "Thank You Jaegermeister" is perfect for those with the Margaritaville mentality. Lee Totten may not be for you or me but it sure can be fun stuff for your mom and her friends. Move over Jimmy, it looks like the young kid from Beantown may be crowding your turf.

-Hope Lopez
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Links:
Offical Tom Waits page

Not bad advice. Waits' last proper studio album (his two most recent were a movie soundtrack and a collaboration with a German theater company) is a terrifying and startling creation--a bit like Clive Barker making a blues record. It sounded so much like the culmination to a career it was hard to imagine what could come after.

Now seven years later, we have our answer with Mule Variations. Opening with the blistering distortion of "Big in Japan," it picks up where Bone Machine left off. And in this respect, the album is a bit of a disappointment. But even Waits seems aware he's not hacking away at much new terrain. The title song--with its emphasis on workman-like repetition--hints at this.

But don't misunderstand, Mule Variations is still one of the best albums this year. From "Filipino Box Spring Hog" (on which Waits sounds happy as a pig wallowing in the sonic slop of the song), to the Poe-like spoken word of "What's He Building?" these tunes are classic Waits.

Recent stateside (Britain is much more appreciative) reviews (most prominently Spin and Rolling Stone--which inexplicably included Billy Joel but left Bone Machine off its 150 essential albums of the Nineties) have pointed out that Waits' song-writing themes have remained pretty constant since 1985's Rain Dogs. This misses the point. Beginning with the radical departure from his crooning days (with Swordfishtrombones), Waits hasn't been about the writing--he's been about sound. From the demented concertina that is Rain Dogs to the cemetery vibe of Bone Machine, Waits has been about exploring his sonic, not verbal, vocabulary. And if Mule Variations doesn't push as far as Bone Machine, Waits can still manipulate sound like few others. In fact, what's surprising (after such a long hiatus) about listening to Waits' album is how much of him you can hear in the postmodern artistry of Beck and the Beasties.

But this too oversimplifies the situation. Waits has always been a songwriter at heart. And never has he produced a more wrenching song than "Take It With Me." With his voice pushed effect-less to the front of the mix and a tinny piano clicking in the background, the song puts the listener in the position of...well...the listener. It's almost as if Waits is whispering in your ear. Frighteningly intimate, and a brave choice for inclusion, "Take It With Me" alone makes the album a cause for celebration. Tom's back.

-Brian Cassidy
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Links:
Witchery

-Sabrina Wade Haines
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