New Favorite
Alison Krauss and Union Station
(Rounder)
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There are two kinds of Alison Krauss fans: those who are also fans
of bluegrass in a more general sense and those who are just fans of great
singers. For those of us who fall into the latter camp, Krauss’ greatest
record will probably always be the 1995 compilation Now That I’ve Found
You: A Collection. That ragtag collection — pulling cuts from solo and
Union Station albums along with guest vocals on other artists’ records and
unreleased material — was a surprise smash. By mixing covers from such
unlikely sources as the Beatles, the Foundations, and Bad Company with more
standard gospel and country fare, Now That I’ve Found You established
Krauss as not her generation’s greatest bluegrass star (which she may well be)
but as one of her generation’s greatest pop singers.
It’s Krauss’ simple, precise soprano, which occasionally soars
with bell-like beauty, that makes her an artist for the world rather than just
a tiny corner of it. Krauss’ vocals are as piercing as ever on New
Favorite, but as is a standard ratio on Union Station albums, Krauss only
sings lead on eight of 13 tracks. That Krauss is so willing to share space
with her bandmates despite her considerable personal stardom says a lot for
her own lack of ego and commitment to collective creation, but for listeners
outside the bluegrass world it still means that New Favorite is only
two-thirds of an album. The cuts that don’t feature Krauss are first-rate as
genre pieces — the instrumental “Choctaw Hayride” showcases the
nimble work of world-class pickers Jerry Douglas (dobro) and Ron Block
(banjo), while guitarist Dan Tyminski’s lead vocals on four other cuts are
suitably high and lonesome — but that’s all they are.
Fans may have expected Krauss and company to make a more
“old-timey” record after the success of the O Brother, Where Art
Thou? soundtrack, but New Favorite is a very modern-sounding
bluegrass record. Krauss’ vocals — especially on “The Lucky One”
and “Crazy Faith” — provide most of the sparks; she’s such an ace
singer that not even a Dan Fogelberg cover (“Stars”) can hold her
back. — Chris Herrington
Grade: B+
Born To Do It
Craig David
(Atlantic)
The obscure grammar of British dance music doesn’t translate well
to American ears, so Craig David’s roots in two-step will prove virtually
meaningless on these shores. In the American music climate, his debut album,
Born To Do It, which has sold millions in Europe and Asia, will likely
be perceived either as R&B or as bubblegum pop.
As an R&B crooner, David has neither the audacity of
sensitive thugs such as R. Kelly nor the gritty soulfulness of bohos such as
D’Angelo, and his beats are too thin and calculated to stand up to hip-hop
artists such as Outkast. David obviously takes his cues from American artists,
but he either comes across as hopelessly out of date (dropping Craig Mack’s
mid-’90s single “Flava in Ya Ear”) or just plain silly. For
instance, “Booty Man,” his cringe-worthy reimagining of “Candy
Man,” is flabby compared to classic butt songs like “Baby Got
Back.”
David’s music, however, does fare much better against that made
by domestic boybands. Next to the Backstreet Boys and ‘N Sync, the 20-year-old
Brit’s songs sound truly soulful and almost revolutionary. “Fill Me
In,” “Walking Away,” and “7 Days” boast better and
more insistent hooks than anything teen pop has given us in the past four
years. Still, like those pop singers trying to write their own music, David
has room to improve, particularly when it comes to his all-grown-up loverman
image. Too often, his boasts of sexual prowess and chick magnetism overwhelm
the innocent pop pleasures of the songs and border on creepy and
predatory.
As Born To Do It is exported to America, many of its
pleasures may wind up lost in translation. Too pop to appeal to American
R&B fans and too R&B for the teen-pop crowd, David may prove to be a
hard sell on this side of the Atlantic.
— Stephen Deusner
Grade: B-
Global A Go-Go
Joe Strummer & the Mescaleros
(Hellcat Records)
With Global A Go-Go, Joe Strummer & the Mescaleros
finally get it right. Although it explores the same territory as their last
release, the world-music romp of 1999’s Rock Art and the X-Ray Style,
with this album the former Clash frontman and his latest band traverse it with
considerably more skill and finesse. A few years of playing together as a band
and touring have brought a cohesiveness and focus to the music that was
missing in their previous ragtag debut. As he’s gotten older, Strummer’s
tendency to preach has also mercifully waned, though he’s still inserting wry
and often hilarious social commentary into his lyrics.
Strummer and his London bandmates surf the wave of global music,
dipping into whatever suits them and fighting the “blanding out” (as
Strummer calls it) of the contemporary music scene. The Mescaleros mix low
tech and high tech with marvelous results, using synthesizers and sampling as
well as witch-doctor bells and a cardboard box. From the blast of guitar funk
on “Cool ‘N’ Out” to the spaghetti western touches on the title
track (hokey the last time around but perfect here), the album blasts off and
almost never slows down. The only downer is the closing track, a cover of an
old Celtic fiddle tune, which is pleasant enough but at 17 minutes-plus starts
to resemble a drunken ceilidh. For the most part, though, Global A Go-
Go hums with unsurpassed energy and vitality. With an ambience so heady,
even songs set in Chinese take-aways assume mythic proportions. Which is
exactly how rock-and-roll should be. — Lisa Lumb
Grade: A-
Ruby Series
Rebecca Gates
(Badman)
Records like this will remind you that there are only so many
hours in the day. Rebecca Gates’ former enterprise, the Spinanes, was nothing
more than a pleasant mediocrity. They had their moments of inspiration while
being drug through the ’90s by Sub Pop, specifically before drummer Scott
Plouf left to drum for Built To Spill. But overall the Spinanes were a flicker
amongst fire.
Relocating from Seattle to Chicago brought in the usual suspects
for the last proper Spinanes album (1998’s Arches and Aisles) and this,
Gates’ first proper solo album, Ruby Series. The omnipresent John
McIntire (Sea and Cake, Tortoise) shows up to hand out his obvious dregs in
the form of some trampled-on beats and flourishes then presumably proceeds to
sit around checking his e-mail for the rest of the recording session. The
whole thing is a vapid, tired affair that sounds like a token
“weird” record that Quincy Jones might have made for Suzanne Vega
sometime around 1988. The only feeling or soul within miles is saved for the
last, spacious track, which might have made for a nice split single or
compilation item but instead closes out a pathetic example of a semicompetent
songwriter trying to “get with the times” after the
“times” have long disappeared. — Andrew Earles
Grade: D