Volume 9, Issue 13; Feb 5-Feb 11, 2003
Short Takes
Creative Sole floats atop Hip Hop waters
Edited By Mike Breen
As a music "critic," it's hard not to get overly excited about a fresh, creative Hip-Hop album. Nelly and his redundant ilk will do that to a person. But there's plenty more to love about Selling Live Water, the fourth long-player from youngblood craftsman sole (a member of the avant Hip-Hop squad Anticon), than simply its novelty. Lyrically, there's more cleverness and intellect in the disc's first cut than most rappers show in an entire discography. "Da Baddest Poet" sets the tone for Selling Live Water, with its self-mocking timbre, industry-skewing teases, and lines like "Went for Rupert Murdoch's throat and left with Rawkus trying to sign me/You can't buy me/I'm holding my chips 'til I land on last base." He gets even more kaleidoscopic with his words as the record flows on ("In this life all I have/A falling sky in my arms/It's not that heavy/Make pretend it's someone else's party/What a gas"), matching the twisted soundscapes and frothy beats erected by jel, odd nosdam, alias and other assorted Anticon pals. Dig the Deep Purple-organ grind on "Salt on Everything," the liquid layers of "Respect Pt. 3," the jazzy swirl of "The Priziest Horse," or the softcore soundtrack piano tinkles and synths of "Teepee on a Highway Blues," and you get the sense that these guys listen to "normal" contemporary Hip Hop just to get tips on what to turn inside out. The combination of deftly original music-collaging and jigsaw-puzzle rhymes make Selling Live Water the kind of inspired Hip-Hop album you could happily listen to a thousand times and hear something new with each spin. (Mike Breen)
CityBeat grade: A.
· Gary Wilson -- Forgotten Lovers (Motel Records)
Cult Indie hero Gary Wilson helped pave a musical path for contemporary musical eccentrics and hipsters, but when he first came onto the "No Wave" scene in the mid-to-late '70s, most folks didn't quite know what to make of his slanted, Rock/Soul/Electro Funk concoctions. Beck, most notably, has re-wired Wilson's grand concept of mixing R&B-ish tendencies with an Art-Pop aesthetic and almost amusingly simple love-song ruminations, even name-checking the unsung icon on his hit "Where It's At." Wilson's "big" release, the basement-recorded You Think You Really Know Me, was put out in 1977, followed by his seeming disappearance from the face of the earth. Motel Records, who hired a private detective to track down the artist (he hadn't had a phone in over a decade and worked in a lounge act and at an adult bookstore in San Diego), re-released the album, exposing the mad-genius of Wilson's work to a whole new generation. Slightly less abstract and artsy than You Think, Forgotten Lovers is largely result of a visit Wilson made to his parents' house/former "studio" following his revival, where he found a treasure trove of unreleased and limited-release material untouched. There's an uneasy amount of pure, surreal soufulness packed into Wilson's unusual vocal style (imagine a Jonathan Richman-obsessed Lou Reed singing Love Unlimited Orchestra songs), but it's the synth-heavy musical experiments of Wilson and his band that make Forgotten Lovers so engaging and suprisingly contemporary sounding. From lush, string-sounds-and-wah-wah-guitar-laden instrumentals to honest-but-delightfully-stiff Soul crooners to fusionary forays into Jazz skronk and fuzzed-out New Wave, Wilson created his own unique voice by maintaining an avant-garde mindset. Or, more likely, Wilson was trying to make honest-to-God R&B and Disco music, and this is the way it came out. Either way, Forgotten Lovers is a captivating collection of music, coming soon to a hipster doofus' CD collection near you. (MB)
CityBeat grade: B.
· Pop Lolita -- Smokerings and Halos (Dream Scene)
Fans of sugary, dreamy Guitar Pop desperately need to discover Smokerings and Halos, the debut disc from Indianapolis-based Pop Lolita. On the disc, the band (which has done some work with Cincy-run Indie collective, datawaslost) displays a tasty melodic flair that is dipped in an atmospheric glaze that hearkens back to the celestial chime of '80s 4AD acts like the Cocteau Twins. That spacious swirl never gets too meandering, thanks largely to the direct punch of the group's songwriting, flavored by British ModPop and the neo-classicism of modern Pop/Rock purveyors like the Apples in stereo. There's a sweet, pure and innocent romanticism to Pop Lolita's songs -- you could imagine filmmaker John Hughes crafting a high-school romantic comedy around a track like "Cute In Color" back in 1985 (à la Pretty In Pink). Pop Lolita makes love songs to pine to, brilliantly capturing that yearning adolescent heart-burn without sounding juvenile or corny. Singer/tambourinist Amber Lynch -- who recently left the band -- lends a silky sass to the songs she fronts and harmonizes on. But the strength of the band's core, not to mention their irreproachable songwriting power, will certainly enable Pop Lolita to continue to thrive without her. (MB)
CityBeat grade: B.
· Supergrass -- Life On Other Planets (Island/Def Jam)
Once the mischievous little bastard cousins of the BritPop scene, Supergrass are on a creative arc that has found them evolving into one of more masterful and (gasp!) mature practitioners of Guitar Pop on the planet. The sugar buzz of their debut, I Should Coco, gave way to the genius rainbow of classic, timeless Rock & Roll that was 1997's In It For the Money. The trio got real sober, real quick with 1999's mildly disappointing self-titled release. Life on Other Planets bridges the gap between Money's eclecticism and Supergrass' sturdy confidence, proving that the word "subtlety" is, indeed, a word in the 'Grass' lexicon (and it's not always synonymous with "boring"). Instead of the jump-up-and-down, look-at-me Pop of early Supergrass, the listener is encouraged to dig in and spend some time with engrossing cuts like the vintage bop-and-stroll rave-up "Seen the Light" (which will be no disappointment to In It For the Money fans), the glammy T-Rex-ism "Brecon Beacons," and the dreamy Sgt. Peppers-via-Jeff Lynne floater "Run." Perhaps most refreshing are the songs that don't play into expectations, such as the grandiose Prog and Pyschedelia sparkles of "La Song," or "Evening of the Day," with its mood-shifts and singer Gaz Coombes unusual vocal inflections. There's still an abundance of the band's trademark good humor on Planets, but the craftiness of the songwriting is ultimately what helps Supergrass stand the test of time. While Planets takes a few listens to grow on you, it's a fungus worth cultivating. (MB)
CityBeat grade: B.