With a deeper and broader track listing than most ABC compilations, Look of Love: The Very Best of ABC more or less lives up to its name. Concentrating on the band's glory days, the album covers the highlights of ABC's first five albums, including hits like the title track, "Poison Arrow," "When Smokey Sings," "Be Near Me," and "How to Be a Millionaire," as well as album tracks like "S.O.S.," "All of My Heart," and "The Night You Murdered Love." While some of the later inclusions, such as "The Real Thing," don't quite pack the punch of ABC's prime work, the 2001 track "Peace and Tranquility" fits in with the earlier material surprisingly well. Likewise, the somewhat random track listing might be somewhat annoying to anyone trying to track ABC's chronological development, but it does spotlight how consistent their brand of suave synth pop is. With a new song, a more diverse track listing, and no unnecessary remixes, Look of Love has a slight edge over Absolutely ABC: The Best of ABC as the group's definitive retrospective.
Featuring a picture of can of soup on the cover, the top half titled "The Housemartins Condensed" and the bottom half "The Cream of the Beautiful South," the album known as Soup was rather biased toward the latter of Paul Heaton's groups with just seven of 22 tracks from only two of the Housemartins' albums, London 0 Hull 4 (named after the fact that there were four of them and they were from Hull) and The People Who Grinned Themselves to Death. That's not a lot, considering that during their brief existence, the Housemartins only achieved seven Top 40 hits, all of which are included here except their cover of "There Is Always Something There to Remind Me." The band was more influential than its chart success would have indicated. Both the Housemartins' other major hits were included, the bouncy, jolly "Happy Hour" and the a cappella cover of "Caravan of Love," along with lesser hits "Five Get Over Excited," "Me and the Farmer," and "Build." Fifteen of the 22 tracks here are devoted to Heaton's second and even more commercially successful band, the Beautiful South. With nine Top Ten albums behind them, the Beautiful South had achieved more radio-friendly hits and continued to enjoy play on easy listening stations long after their peak in the early '90s. Songs such as "Song for Whoever," "You Keep It All In," "A Little Time," "Rotterdam," "Don't Marry Her," and "Perfect 10" are all here, along with some lesser hits spread throughout their career from 1989 to 2003. The Housemartins have not been very well served by their highly visible greatest-hits campaigns, including the low-key release Best Of in 2004 and Now That's What I Call Quite Good! (a parody title of Now That's What I Call Music, the compilation series) in 1988. The Beautiful South, however, had enjoyed one of the biggest-selling albums of the '90s with Carry on Up the Charts, and Solid Bronze had also been a successful hits compilation, but Soup is the first time that both of Paul Heaton's bands' songs had been brought together.
The second big-scale Crowded House compilation -- following the first, Recurring Dream, by 14 years, and the budget-line set Classic Masters by seven - 2010’s The Very Very Best of Crowded House (the second “very” distinguishing it from Recurring Dream, which was merely “The Very Best”) comes in two incarnations: a single CD running a tight 19 tracks, and a digital download that’s expanded to 32 songs. The CD version offers up much of Crowded House’s canon including “Weather with You,” “Something so Strong,” “Don’t Dream It’s Over,” “Four Seasons in One Day,” “It’s Only Natural,” “Better Be Home Soon” and “Mean to Me,” ultimately repeating 14 of Recurring Dream’s 19 songs while finding space for a pair of tunes from the 2007 reunion Time on Earth (“Don’t Stop Now,” “Pour Le Monde”). The three tunes left behind -- “World Where You Live,” “Into Temptation,” “When You Come” -- are all missed but they can be found on the digital edition, along with a clutch of other great songs that help make it the best Crowded House comp so far, verging on the definitive. Naturally, the single disc isn’t as thorough, but it does as good a job of offering the basics as Recurring Dream, and will surely satisfy listeners who don’t believe they need more than a disc of Crowded House.
What has the field of lo-fi slacker pop come to when faced by an LP as ambitious and entertaining as Badly Drawn Boy's The Hour of Bewilderbeast? Despite all attempts to sabotage his songwriting and production with innumerable experimental tidbits, songs within a song, and (seemingly) tossed-off arrangements, Damon Gough has to face the fact that he wrote and produced over a dozen excellent songs of baroque folk-pop for his album debut, and the many gems can't help but shine through all the self-indulgence. The sprightly orchestration for cello and trumpet (Gough's own) that begin the album are eventually taken over by the sparse guitar pickings and wistful folky sunshine of "The Shining," which veers into the skewed slide guitar and ominous tone of "Everybody's Stalking." Gough rarely pauses for breath (even when he's doing a ballad) or follows any traditional sense of album flow, but after a listen or two, The Hour of Bewilderbeast is revealed as a shambling masterpiece of a pop album. Most of these songs are Gough's entirely (he plays as many as eight instruments), with occasional help from friends like Twisted Nerve co-labelhead Andy Votel and assorted drummers for accompaniment. His songwriting is great, but Gough's twisted sense of humor helps the album shine as well, as on "Fall in a River," where the down-a-lazy-river feel carries through to the point where not just Gough but the entire production is submerged with a splash and attendant warping of the sound. The Hour of Bewilderbeast surely isn't a traditional pop album, but a continually beguiling trip through lo-fi postmodern folk that draws as much from Harry Nilsson as Beck
After the near-disaster of forced democracy on Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like a Peasant and the stultifying holding pattern of the Storytelling soundtrack, where Todd Solondz brought out their worst tendencies, it seemed that Belle & Sebastian were disappearing into their own preciousness, but then something unexpected happened: they returned to form with 2003's Dear Catastrophe Waitress. This was unexpected not just because their last efforts suggested that B&S no longer could produce a consistently engaging work, but because their savior came in the guise of Trevor Horn, the man who successfully helped Yes turn new wave, the man best known for his synth-heavy productions of ABC and Frankie Goes to Hollywood, the man who was last heard producing everybody's favorite Russian teen lesbian duo, Tatu. That diverse resumé suggests that Horn knows how to play to a band's strengths, and he certainly helps Belle & Sebastian regain their focus and vision, turning Dear Catastrophe Waitress into one of the group's best albums. One of the reasons that album works so well is that the notion that the band has no leader has been discarded, with Stuart Murdoch thankfully serving as the lead singer and songwriter throughout the record. Murdoch's songs are firmly within the patented Belle & Sebastian style, and while it may be true that he's not stretching himself much as a writer, that doesn't matter because he sounds assured and confident, turning out a set of songs that are finely crafted and tuneful. It's among his catchiest work, if not quite his cleverest, since the words occasionally offer an overdose of whimsy that leads to queasiness. And that's where Horn comes in -- by keeping the focus on the tunes and subtly varying the production, he's made Dear Catastrophe Waitress the richest musical offering yet from Belle & Sebastian. If it doesn't quite have the timeless feel of If You're Feeling Sinister, so be it, since this is their first record since that defining album to offer a similarly rich listen, and that's quite a comeback for a band that only an album ago seemed to peak too early.
Fatboy Slim's debut album, Better Living Through Chemistry, was one of the surprises of the big beat revolution of 1996 -- an eclectic blowout, all tracked to thunderous loops and masterminded by Norman Cook, a former member of the British pop band the Housemartins. It might not have been as startlingly fresh as the Chemical Brothers, but the hard-hitting beats and catchiness, not to mention consistency, of Better Living was a shock, and it raised expectations for Fatboy Slim's second album, You've Come a Long Way, Baby. And that record itself was something of a surprise, since it not only exceeded the expectations set by the debut, but came damn close to being the definitive big beat album, rivaling the Chemicals' second record, Dig Your Own Hole. The difference is, Cook is a record geek with extensive knowledge and eclectic tastes. His juxtapositions -- the album swings from hip-hop to reggae to jangle pop, and then all combines into one sound -- are wildly original, even if the music itself doesn't break through the confines of big beat. Then again, when a record is this forceful and catchy, it doesn't need to break new stylistic ground -- the pleasure is in hearing a master work. And there's no question that Cook is a master of sorts -- You've Come a Long Way, Baby is a seamless record, filled with great imagination, unexpected twists and turns, huge hooks, and great beats. It's the kind of record that gives big beat a good name.
Really, the title says it all -- Decksanddrumsandrockandroll is about as close to rock & roll as big-beat techno is going to get. Taking their cue from the Chemical Brothers, the Bath-based duo Propellerheads offer a set of pummeling, ultra-loud beats that may dabble in funk, house, hip-hop, soul, and rap, but which all come out sounding as aggressive as rock. Not that there's anything wrong with that -- at its best, big beat is as invigorating as any other music -- but Propellerheads don't have the finesse, innovation, or style of the Chemical Brothers, the leading proponents of big beat. When they shake the beat up, whether on the wah-wah-drenched "Velvet Pants" or the pair of John Barry/James Bond tributes (a reworking of their cover of "On Her Majesty's Secret Service" and "History Repeating"), it sounds like a tactical move, since they know they can't spend the entire album on thundering dance cuts like "Bang On!" and "Take California." That said, Decksanddrumsandrockandroll remains a strong big beat album, even if it ultimately doesn't reveal anything new, because the duo knows how to craft a hard-hitting, infectious rhythm track. And while that doesn't make them the next Chemical Brothers, it does make them the best in this style since the Chemicals.
Grant Lee Phillips, as he would later be known as a solo artist, is primarily the sole songwriter for his group Grant Lee Buffalo as well. But unlike more subtle releases later in his career, there is a fire burning in him on this album, galvanizing in songs like the opening anthem Lone Star Song.
Released in 1994, when grunge had a fairly good hold on what was king on the airwaves, comes an album, that takes that raw emotion and embraces it with a vocalist who can be just as abrasive as any hard rock artist and then tone it down, into an almost singer/songwriter tone that can evoke that beauty reminiscent of such artists as Gordon Lightfoot or even James Taylor.
What makes this album an all time classic and yet keeps it safely under the radar, is the fact that it doesn't sound like anything else. There is really no one quite to compare it to. Not that Phillip's songwriting doesn't draw from many pools of inspiration, but when he does, he takes it and makes it own. Like the 'master's apprentice' analogy, Phillip's music is HIS music, and he never comes close to becoming a mere clone of his inspirations.
Distorted guitars, mixed with mandolins, banjos, blaring harmonicas and Phillips ever commanding voice is held steady by a very subtle yet strong rhythm section. Lyrically he blazes through politics, love, the human spirit, and ends the album with a very chilling take on his own version of the old hymn Rock of Ages.
There is no need to pick this album apart, song by song. Every song on here somehow perfectly meshes with its predecessor, yet holds a distinct vibe, always slightly different. From glaring electric guitars to hushed acoutics, each song on here has something to say, musically and lyrically, conveyed in such a manner that it can cut right to the heart of the listener, especially with tracks such as Happiness. Phillips has a way of getting his message across in a way that draws in his listeners, as he though he is not just singing to them, but for them, making many of these songs a very personal listen.
This album is one of those very few that you don't find the need to skip a track. It works on so many levels and rises above much of what was being released in 1994 and even in 2019. If there was this kind of ingenuity, this kind of depth, put into the commercial market, music would be a lot healthier for it. To think that this was released on Geffen records now amazes me, because today, this album would probably end up on a lower tier independent label. They went on to record two more albums after this one, both good, but never reaching the heights acheived Mighty Joe Moon.
The Screaming Trees one-upped their major-label debut, Uncle Anesthesia, with this solid, vastly underrated effort. Sweet Oblivion's lead single, the jumpy hard rocker "Nearly Lost You," proved itself a highlight on the hugely successful, Seattle-themed Singles soundtrack. But even though the Screaming Trees stacked up quite well against their more famous peers in that particular showcase, the exposure didn't make them stars. Perhaps it was because Sweet Oblivion had been released several months before Singles, and the band thus couldn't build a sense of anticipation for a new album release, the way Alice in Chains and Smashing Pumpkins did for Dirt and Siamese Dream, respectively; nor could they capitalize on the extra publicity that goes along with new releases. For whatever reason, Singles didn't push sales of Sweet Oblivion, as the latter only scraped the lower reaches of the Billboard charts. And that's a shame, because the record is quite good -- the best songs here are easily among the best in their catalog, and the songwriting was their most consistent yet. "Nearly Lost You" is a standout, of course, but "Dollar Bill," "Shadow of the Season," and "Butterfly" are nearly as impressive. Mark Lanegan's raspy voice conveys a weary wistfulness that adds an unexpected dimension to the group's otherwise macho garage-psych grunge. The Trees no longer sound all that punkish, trading in some of their early, noisy fury for a more '70s-indebted hard rock sound, but it's done with a graceful power that proves they were at least the equal of their more famous fellow scenesters. Unfortunately, the four-year hiatus between Sweet Oblivion and its follow-up, Dust, ensured that the band would be forever relegated to cult status.
