Category: CD Reviews (Page 128 of 399)

The Mother Hips: Pacific Dust


RIYL: Crazy Horse, the Eagles, New Riders of the Purple Sage

Granted, any band that’s been around more than a decade and a half should have been picked up on the public’s radar by this time, and the fact that the Mother Hips have barely registered a blip doesn’t exactly offer any sort of attribute in their favor. It’s a misfortune they lament on “Third Floor Story,” a tale of record company imbroglio that ranks as one of several highlights on this otherwise agreeable new album, their seventh outing to date and possibly their best shot at routing the indifference that’s greeted them thus far. Indeed, based on the evidence offered herein, there’s no reason why this California combo ought not finally win the following that’s eluded them so long. Faithful purveyors of West Coast country rock, with more than a hint of a ‘70s sensibility, they serve up unfettered melodies that once would have invited radio play and the adulation of the masses. Songs like “White Falcon Fuzz,” “One Way Out” and “All in Favor” recall the dusty, free-wheeling affinity that made the Eagles, Neil Young, the Jayhawks and others of that ilk rank so prominently as heartland heroes. Perhaps their problem lies in the fact that they could be perceived as retracing terrain that was so widely traversed more than 30 years ago, and is now considered somewhat out of sync, especially given competition from boy band wannabes, unrepentant rappers and the various other pop pretenders that dominate the charts these days. Too bad – it may not be hip to like the Hips, but when it comes to mining a solid, road-weary sound, they become the Mother of reinvention. (Camera Records 2009)

The Mother Hips MySpace page

Angel Taylor: Love Travels


RIYL: Vanessa Carlton, Kate Voegele, Cobie Caillat

No album in the last five years has brought out the big brother in us quite like Angel Taylor’s Love Travels has. The former California coffeehouse singer has assembled an album of mannered piano pop so wistful that it should come with a bonus CD of heavy sighs to play concurrently with the album. If we ever meet Ms. Taylor, the conversation will start with us giving her a big hug, tousling her hair and assuring her that everything will be all right, sweetie. She’s not exactly reinventing the wheel here, but the songwriting has a throwback feel to it, lifting songs like “Make Me Believe” and the Vanessa Carlton-ish “Chai Tea Latte” over the dreck that passes for adult contemporary pop today. And, thank heaven, Taylor has no use for melisma-inspired vocal runs, preferring to keep things simple. That is one trend we hope picks up some more steam. If you have a sensitive tween girl in your life, this is the album for her. And her mother. (Sony 2009)

Angel Taylor MySpace page
Click to buy Love Travels from Amazon

Or, The Whale: Or, The Whale


RIYL: The Jayhawks, The Parson Red Heads, Wilco

Note to Alison Krauss and Bob Dylan: give Or, The Whale a call next time you’re looking for a hot young opening band to help carry your Americana torch. Indeed, a tinge of that days-of-old feeling permeates the sweet, harmony-laden sounds of San Francisco’s rising alt-country starlets in Or, The Whale. On the band’s self-titled second album, steel and acoustic guitars provide the rural flavor, and the vocals of Lindsay Garfield, bassist Justin Fantil, keyboardist Julie Ann Thomasson and guitarists Alex Robins and Matt Sartain seal the deal. They lead, coalesce, and otherwise intertwine in ways that suggest a deep down happiness that transcends the heartbreaking subject matter, like the agoraphobe in “Never Coming Out” and dead dog lament “Datura.” These are all fine and dandy, but the album’s clincher is the slow building centerpiece “Count the Stars,” where sound, feel and execution meet to achieve a harmonious balance that rivals the one inherent in the band’s own vocal strength. (Seany 2009)

Or, The Whale MySpace

Steal This Song: Gazpacho, “Winter Is Never”

The problem with a band reaching the upper reaches of the rock star food chain is that inferior bands begin to imitate them. And the band that has inspired the largest number of shitty copycats of late, sadly, is one of this writer’s favorites.

Muse_14 edit

Yep, Muse.

The thing about Muse is that their approach is a lot simpler than it appears. The song, by and large, comes first, whereas the band’s copycats see the flashy solos, the lightning-fast drum fills, and the busy bass lines and instantly forget about writing and concentrate on playing. Big, big mistake. Without a tune, that stuff is just masturbation.

Which brings us to Gazpacho, which seems an odd name for a group of Norwegians, but then again we suppose that everything is served cold there. (This moment of cultural insensitivity brought to you by Jack Daniel’s.) This is the first Muse-y band we’ve heard since “Knights of Cydonia” that seems to understand the order of things. They can play, and they make sure that you know they can play, but it’s not their endgame. And, in the case of “Winter Is Never,” the haunting ballad that closes their new album Tick Tock, the song comes first, second and third. David Gray is probably gnashing his teeth over this one, as this could pass for a White Ladder outtake, with a few Buckley-isms from lead singer Jan Henrik Ohme in the second chorus. Gorgeous stuff, and best of all, it’s free! The download link is below.

Groepsportret Gazpacho

In the meantime, those who felt a tad disappointed by Muse’s new album The Resistance would be wise to check out Tick Tock. It won’t make anyone burn their copies of Black Holes and Revelations, but for a mere $6.23 to download, it’s a steal. Dig in.

Gazpacho – Winter Is Never

Gazpacho MySpace page
Click to buy Tick Tock from Amazon

Alice in Chains: Black Gives Way to Blue


RIYL: Soundgarden, Godsmack, Staind

In a sense, the fact that Alice in Chains have reformed and released a new album isn’t all that improbable. Though their earliest albums were marked by the passionate, fiery vocal performances of original lead singer Layne Staley, he began to withdraw during the band’s later years as his addictions got the best of him. By the time of the band’s final, self-titled album in 1995, Layne – who eventually died of an overdose in 2002 – sounded almost like he wasn’t really there, a shadow of his former self.

Alice_in_Chains_04

Fourteen years after the original band’s swan song, Layne Staley’s ghost is ever-present throughout Black Gives Way to Blue. Guitarist and chief songwriter Jerry Cantrell blended his voice so well with Layne’s back in the day that whether he’s singing to his own multi-tracked vocals or in harmony with new lead singer William DuVall, one could be forgiven for thinking that Layne had come back from the dead to add his stamp to the record. Not only that, the album has more in common with Alice in Chains than with any of the band’s other records; Cantrell shares the lead vocal spot more frequently than he did on Dirt or Facelift, the overall tone is more melancholy and dire than manic mindfucks like “Sickman,” “Real Thing” or “Them Bones” ever aspired to be, and other than “Take Her Out” and the catchy lead single “Check My Brain,” pop hooks are few and far between.

While the title track tastefully pays tribute to the band’s fallen singer, its much-hyped Elton John appearance on piano ultimately disappoints; what could have been an epic memorial and a signature piece of the reborn band comes off more like a demo, and one that’s still searching for a bridge and a suitable conclusion, ending far too soon. Even now, Alice still has one up on copycats like Godsmack and Staind, but Black Gives Way to Blue falls just short of what they’re truly capable of achieving. (Virgin 2009)

Alice In Chains MySpace
Click to buy Black Gives Way to Blue from Amazon

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