Fields Of The Nephilim Elizium

Fields Of The Nephilim Elizium

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For the first time since Dawnrazor, the Nephilim worked with someone other than Bill Buchanan as producer; whatever Andy Jackson's particular qualifications, happily he knew not to ruin a good thing. The end result was the band's best all-around album, consisting of four lengthy pieces that showcase their now near-peerless abilities to create involved, textured, driving, and loud pieces of rock. It was still goth as all heck, but like the best bands in any genre, the Nephilim transcended such artificial limitations to create their own sound. McCoy still comes up with an occasionally curious lyric, to put it mildly, but such is the power of his performance as well as the band's that, at least for the time it's playing, Elizium really does sound like it's about to call up darkling spirits from the nether planes. The opening song is divided into four parts but mainly known by its second, "For Her Light," which was edited into a single. It moves from initial crashes of noise, feedback, and keyboards to catchier brooding and riff action, a calmer midsection with appropriate samples of Alistair Crowley, and a last slamming run to the song's conclusion. "Submission" stands on its own, switching between minimal bass with guitar stabs and massive crescendos. "Sumerland (What Dreams May Come)" takes the apocalyptic element of the Nephilim to its furthest extent; its relentless pulse supports some of the most powerful guitar out there while McCoy achieves a similar high point with his commanding voice. "Wail of Sumer" concludes Elizium on a striking two-part note, gently floating rather than exploding over its length, while McCoy's lost, regretful voice drifts along with it as a soft, yet still unnerving conclusion. Combine that with another fantastic job on art design, and Elizium, once you accept the Nephilim's basic conceits, simply stuns.

Scritti Politti Anomie & Bonhomie

Scritti Politti Anomie & Bonhomie

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Scritti Politti finally delivered their fourth album, Anomie & Bonhomie, in the summer of 1999, nearly 15 years after their third. Such a long wait almost guarantees some change in the music, but the strange thing about Anomie & Bonhomie is how the updates -- rapper cameos, vague house beats, grunge guitars -- sound as if they're pasted over backing tracks from 1986. Not necessarily a bad thing, but disconcerting, since the heart of this album is squarely in Cupid & Psyche 85 territory. Green Gartside still creates unabashedly fey, unapologetically smooth pop, sprinkled with hints of soul and dance. Green's high, thin voice takes some getting used to, as does his aesthetic. He likes melodies, but he likes surfaces and textures even more, particularly if they're manufactured and polished. That was the very thing that made Cupid & Psyche 85 irresistible, at least to post-New Romantic new wavers, and parts of Anomie & Bonhomie work on that same appealingly slick level, since Green has a talent for constructing hooks and sounds. They don't necessarily add up to full-fledged songs, yet the feel is always right -- a light, persistent groove, swooning melodies, and a sense of twee sophistication. That's why the contemporary flourishes don't fit -- they're forced, and Green is at his best when he makes it all seem easy, no matter how intricately constructed his music is. Subsequent spins let Green's talents float to the surface, particularly on the luxurious "First Goodbye," the dancefloor opener "Umm," and "Mystic Handyman." If the album winds up succeeding on the strength of soundcraft instead of songcraft, that's the way Green works. While it may not be worth an extended wait, Anomie & Bonhomie ultimately remains faithful to the sophsti-pop aesthetic the band pioneered in the mid-'80s.

Sparks Gratuitous Sax & Senseless Violins

Sparks Gratuitous Sax & Senseless Violins

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Even the cover art is great, playing with the same fake tabloid style that Guns N' Roses tried but with funnier results. Beginning with a semi-echo of the start of Propaganda, with the a cappella "Gratuitous Sax" leading into the surging, well-deserved European smash hit "When Do I Get to Sing 'My Way'," Gratuitous Sax & Senseless Violins broke a near seven-year silence from Ron and Russell Mael -- the longest period of time by far since their start in between major releases. Rather than sounding tired or out of touch, though, the brothers gleefully embraced the modern synth/house/techno explosion for their own purposes (an explosion which, after all, they had helped start with their work during the late '70s with Giorgio Moroder). Solely recorded by the Maels with no outside help, Sax keeps that same, perfect Sparks formula -- Russell's sweet vocals soar with smart and suspect lyrics over Ron's sometimes fast and furious, sometimes slow and elegant melodies, here performed with detailed electronic lushness. They make their style live yet again, feeling far fresher here than on Interior Design. "(When I Kiss You) I hear Charlie Parker Playing" finds Russell rapping (!), "I Thought I Told You to Wait in the Car" has a great building chorus, and "Let's Go Surfing" helps wrap up the album with a wistfully triumphant call to arms. "Tsui Hark" is the one slight departure from the formula, featuring the Hong Kong director Hark himself giving a brief autobiography while a colleague speaks in Chinese. Though some longtime fans groused that they missed the more rocked-up Sparks of the early '70s (or early '80s) in comparison, all in all, Gratuitous Sax & Senseless Violins is a well-deserved return to form from a band which has deserved far more attention from the musical world, or the world at large, than they have received.

Butthole Surfers Weird Revolution

Butthole Surfers Weird Revolution

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As a slice of danceable, oddball pop confection, Weird Revolution glides seamlessly along as millenial ear candy -- bizarre, languorous, and utterly surreal. Only a band with such a varied past -- splatter-painted with psychedelia, avant-punk, and hardcore, the acid-damaged scatology of Chrome, the pastoral beauty of acoustic and folk guitar, and the acid guitar pyrotechnics of Led Zeppelin -- could attempt such a massive career about-face. Agreed, when the Beck-ish "Pepper" sailed up the charts in the late 1990s, with its casual, trippy sampled beats, the vast preponderance of old-school fans were aghast. The radio friendly -- not to mention dance club friendly -- Weird Revolution will do nothing to assist those people back into the Butts peculiar belief system. Certainly, an album like this is not without precedent in the band's camp. At the tail end of the 1980s, former bassist Jeff Pinkus and ringleader Gibby Haynes assembled some binary code mish-mash under the name the Jackofficers using little more than a couple of Macintosh computers. And that was merely a lark. This time, one guesses, the band is as serious as a band like the Butthole Surfers could be. Unfortunately, all organic drumming has been cast overboard in favor of the studio friendly ProTools unit. There are numerous occasions of pop brilliance; "The Shame of Life" and the "Sweet Jane"-flavored "Dracula From Venus." Gibby Haynes' vocals are the designated focus of Weird Revolution, and even though he has always shown tremendous range in years past, from the disturbing ("Gravyard," "Concubine") to Roxy Music-esque crooning, this time he's flexing his Texas hip-hop muscles. Perhaps this is precisely the album they've been waiting to make. Perhaps it was a career imperative; the only way to financially salvage a 20-odd year run of genius and mayhem that suddenly went awry, causing everyone involved trouble with the bank. That is forgivable; that is fine. Certain bands, given their dedication and catalog, are nearly exempt from traditional standards, but the near absence of Paul Leary's LSD-drenched guitar wizardry is unconscionable, as it had always been the band's most mesmerizing feature. This signals a weird revolution in sound and vision, indeed: from the damaged terror, brilliance, and whimsy of the '80s and early '90s to the ecstacy-lined trenches of electronica.

The Church Starfish

The Church Starfish

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Some classic albums from the '80s lose their luster over a period of time. Whether it's the horrifically dated production values or instantly recognized drum machine presets, the musky smell of nostalgia inevitably creeps in and funks things up. Thankfully, this isn't the case with the Church's Starfish, which EMI had the good sense of remastering and presenting in a two-disc deluxe edition. Of course, Starfish wasn't the creative pinnacle of the Church's career (some would argue that would be found on 1986's Heyday), but it certainly was the group's most successful album, delivering the classics "Under the Milky Way" and "Reptile" to the pop mainstream. And while the first disc sounds better than ever, it's the second disc filled with rarities, B-sides, and acoustic performances of "Under the Milky Way," "Antenna," and "Spark" that really steals the show. Liner notes and any sort of historical documentation are woefully absent from the packaging, which is a shame because like every classic album there must be some astounding session anecdotes or historical documentation that could have been equally as engaging as the music. But overall, fans should rejoice that the album has been restored to its originl pristine beauty 

Squeeze East Side Story

Squeeze East Side Story

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Roundly regarded as Squeeze's grand masterpiece, in its planned incarnation East Side Story was going to be much grander: it was designed as a double-album with each side produced by a different musician, all a forefather of a different aspect of Squeeze. Dave Edmunds and his Rockpile cohort Nick Lowe were both contracted, as was Lowe's main producing success story Elvis Costello, and then Paul McCartney was slated for a side, but as the sessions started all but Elvis and Edmunds pulled out, with Dave only contributing one track. Costello was enough to make a big, big difference, helping to highlight a band in flux. Jools Holland left the group after Argybargy, taking with him a penchant for boogie-woogie novelty tunes. His replacement was Paul Carrack, veteran of pub rockers Ace who gave Squeeze another lead singer with true commercial potential -- something that Costello exploited by having Carrack sing lead for the brilliant piece of blue-eyed soul, "Tempted" (Costello and Glenn Tilbrook sneak in for the second verse). "Tempted" was a misleading hit -- at least it was a hit in America, where it turned into a '80s standard -- in that it suggested Carrack was a larger presence in the band than he really was, yet it also suggested the richness of East Side Story, and in how the band's music deepened and found a sympathetic producer in Costello. Far from reprising his skeletal, nervy production for The Specials, Costello smoothes out the lingering rough edges in the band, giving them a hint of gloss that has more to do with its new wave era than commercial considerations. One thing that is missing is the frenzied beat that had been Squeeze's signature throughout their first three albums: despite the echoey rockabilly of "Messed Around" -- if you didn't check the credits, you'd be sure this is Edmunds' production, but he was responsible for tightening up the almost ideal opener "In Quintessence," which strangely enough sounds like Costello's 1981 album, Trust (it really was an incestuous scene) -- this isn't a rock & roll album, it's a pop album through and through, from its sounds to its songs. It's bright, colorful, immediate even when things get ambitious, as they do on the dense, grandly psychedelic "F-Hole," which is cleverly deflated -- musically and lyrically -- by its juxtaposition with "Labelled with Love," a lazy country-rock stroll that doesn't seem out of place among the rest of the clever, immaculately constructed pop songs. Instead, it acts as further proof that Difford and Tilbrook could write and play almost anything at this point: they perfected their barbed, bouncy pop -- best heard on the single "Is That Love," but also "Someone Else's Heart" and terrific, percolating "Piccadilly" -- but they also slowed down to a hazy crawl on "There's No Tomorrow," turned intimate and sensitive on the jangly "Woman's World," and crafted the remarkably fragile, Baroque "Vanity Fair." All this variety gave East Side Story the feel of the double-album it was originally intended to be and it stands as Squeeze's tour de force, the best pop band of their time stretching every one of its muscles. [The 1998 U.K. reissue contained two bonus tracks: "The Axe Has Now Fallen," whose bright beat can't mask its bitterness, and a pretty good cover of the pop-soul standard "Looking for a Love"].

Shriekback Big Night Music

Shriekback Big Night Music

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Big Night Music continued Shriekback's evolution from fringe weirdoes to unlikely pop stars. It was more accessible than anything they'd done before, and not by accident -- a conscious intent to reach for a wider audience is apparent even in the album's packaging, which pictures the band members on the cover for the first time, includes a long note from Shriekback to their fans, and gives credits for make-up, hair, and denim. The lush, organic production (by Gavin MacKillop) is a long, long way from the clattering psycho-funk of Tench, and Shriekback's distinctive drum programs have been entirely replaced by Martyn Barker's drums. ("Big Night Music is entirely free of drum machines," say the liner notes. "Shriekback have chosen to make a different kind of music -- one which exalts human frailty and the harmonious mess of nature over the simplistic reductions of our crude computers.") All this makes it tempting to dismiss this album, but that would be a mistake -- taken on its own terms, it's a vastly successful record. Its ten tracks explore a variety of new styles and the results include some of their best songs: "The Shining Path," an evocative moonlight serenade; "The Reptiles and I," with glassine synths echoing over a sinewy rhythm section; and "Sticky Jazz," which is funky in a joyful, floppy way and marks quite a change for the often sinister Shrieks. Barry Andrews, who handles all lead vocals for the first time, is not a great singer, but he manages; Barker shows impressive rhythmic versatility; and Dave Allen continues to be the band's anchor, providing dependable brilliance on the low end. Big Night Music accomplished everything it set out to do, finding success with both record buyers and critics

 

Plaid Not For Threes

Plaid Not For Threes

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Plaid's second full-length release, Not for Threes, is separated from its predecessor by one of the most celebrated side trips in electronic listening music's brief but broad history. As members of the Black Dog, Ed Handley and Andy Turner (together with Ken Downie) helped set the standard for experimental techno, bringing a daring range of influences together in a space consistently characterized by quality and innovation. As such, great things were expected of Threes, and with a couple exceptions, the pair delivers. Although treading far closer than any Black Dog material ever did to the sort of pop electronica of Plaid's interim work with Björk (who appears here on the gorgeous "Lilith"), Threes is ambitious on different terms, moving from the abused and distorted breaks of "Extork" and "Prague Radio" to a balanced radio-friendliness that never sacrifices ingenuity for ease. A handful of tracks feature vocals throughout, and while the results had the predictable effect of irritating BD purists, they actually work remarkably well (partly because the tracks contain absolutely no trace of compositional compromise). A few of the tracks ("Headspin," "Abla Eedio," the too-brief "Seph") sit easily beside the very best Black Dog.