Oh, Inverted World, The Shins (Sub Pop)
The Albuquerque, New Mexico, band the Shins pair bubbly folk-pop with
sincere, intelligent lyrics and in the process have created one of the most
endearing debut albums in recent memory. Connecting the dots between the
autumnal melodies of such groups as Belle & Sebastian and the indie
eccentricities of bands like Modest Mouse (with whom they have toured), Oh,
Inverted World is an album about “the untied shoelaces of your
life” — not only the misgivings that trip you up romantically but also
the frustration over things left undone or unsaid.
Singer-songwriter James Mercer’s subject matter — adolescent confusion,
romantic wounds, stinging regret — may not be altogether original, but his
approach is exceedingly personal and complicated. The rollicking “Know
Your Onion!” recounts that oldest of teenage concerns: not fitting in.
“Shut out, pimpled and angry/I quietly tied all my guts into knots,”
the narrator recalls, before revealing a true passion: “Lucked out/found
my favorite records lying in wait at the Birmingham mall.” It’s a prickly
memory, but Mercer generously avoids any bitterness or blame: “When
they’re parking their cars on your chest/you’ve still got a view of the summer
sky.”
Musically, Oh, Inverted World boasts a broad sonic palette, as the
band provides lush, eclectic backing that matches the spirit of Mercer’s
lyrics. On “One By One All Day,” they chug along with clockwork
precision until they hit a wittily psychedelic coda. And on “Girl Inform
Me,” they summon up the Beach Boys better — and with much less
affectation — than most indie bands.
Part of the appeal of Oh, Inverted World might just be its length:
The album clocks in at just over 33 minutes, which is long enough to make it
exceptionally cohesive and to maintain its focus but short enough to leave us
wanting more and anticipating a follow-up. — Stephen Deusner
Grade: A-
The Shins will be at the Young Avenue Deli on Monday, September
24th.
Witness
Dave Douglas
(Bluebird)
A celebration of the nonviolent, political resistance of activists and
artists the world over, Witness, Dave Douglas’ newest album, stands as
a cosmic testament to the eventual, manifest triumph of truth in the face of
dark, ephemeral power. Probably the most original trumpeter/composer of his
generation, Douglas is hard to pin down: The expressive control that he wields
over his instrument and the improvisational nature of his work ground him in
the jazz tradition, but it would seem that Douglas borrows something from
every musical idiom. One might hear John Zorn, Charles Mingus, and Nikolai
Rimsky-Korsakov all straining to break through in a single Douglas piece.
For Witness, Douglas has assembled a veritable who’s who of the
modern avant-garde scene and drafted singer-songwriter Tom Waits for a very
subdued reading in one piece. Besides Douglas’ sometimes mournful, sometimes
ecstatic trumpet, some of the “instruments” you might hear over the
duration of this powerful album are AM radio, marimba, glockenspiel,
electronic percussion, and sampling. But the most moving voices accompanying
Douglas are those of the clarinet, tenor sax, tuba, cello, bass, drums,
trombone, and violin (used to heartbreaking effect over what seems to be
looped, backward vibraphone).
“Witness,” the title piece, sounds like the sonic fallout from
an epic, celestial contest in which Ornette Coleman referees between Miles
Davis’ band circa 1969 and a young Duke Ellington and his orchestra.
“Child of All Nations,” as it races by, summons images as disparate
as belly dancers and bombs. “Kidnapping Kissinger,” while bereft of
any overall melody, is manic like no one but Warner Bros. Merrie
Melodies composer Carl Stalling could be (just throw in the sound-effects
crew as well). In all, Witness comprises a complete vocabulary of
dystopian despair and artistic joy while at times seeming to seethe with anger
for the plutocratic juggernaut in power today. — Jeremy Spencer
Grade: A-
The Convincer
Nick Lowe
(Yep Roc)
Labour Of Love: The Music Of Nick Lowe
Various Artists
(Telarc)
Nick Lowe’s early achievements simply cannot be overstated. After
dissolving the mod-psychedelic pop band Kippington Lodge in the late ’60s, he
formed Brinsley Schwarz with fellow Lodge guitarist Brinsley Schwarz. Schwarz,
the band, was a leading proponent, if not the leading proponent, of
Britain’s pub-rock scene. Pub rock blazed a straight line into Britain’s punk-
rock Class of ’76 by establishing a credible simplifying of loud rock music
and a string of venues to play across the country. Leaving Schwarz in 1976,
Lowe embarked on his greatest accomplishments as co-founder and house producer
of Stiff, Britain’s first high-profile indie label, where he would helm the
controls for the country’s first full-length punk-rock record: the Damned’s
Damned Damned Damned. Lowe would save his best solo creation for the
first-ever Stiff single, 1976’s “So It Goes” b/w “Heart Of the
City” — largely regarded as the birth of Britain’s late-’70s power-pop
explosion. He then landed a multi-LP deal with Columbia that would produce the
British Top 10 hit “(I Love the Sound Of) Breaking Glass” and later
the worldwide Top 40 hit (his only to date) “Cruel To Be Kind.”
Lowe wandered about the ’80s and early ’90s producing a swarm of adult
contemporary releases for other artists, spitting out unnoticed solo record
after unnoticed solo record and flirting with every genre under the sun while
battling (and eventually winning) a serious dependence on alcohol. After
joining the thankfully short-lived supergroup Little Village, Lowe experienced
what most songwriters in their waning years pine for: He became a millionaire
from royalties. An R&B version of Lowe’s “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout)
Peace, Love and Understanding” appeared on the highest-selling soundtrack
album of all time: The Bodyguard.
All this time, Lowe was embracing Americana as his primary musical
direction and picking up a modest following among the alt-country movement
that blossomed stateside during the late ’80s and early ’90s. The
Convincer provides closure to a trio of albums that began with 1994’s
The Impossible Bird, and all three albums are a mixture of minimal
vocal numbers, country rock, and covers. The Convincer opens with
“Homewrecker” — a torch number that sounds as if it were sung by an
artsier Bob Seger — and then commences with assured and competent rootsified
singer-songwriter fare (peppered with two covers and another torch song or
two). The Convincer is obviously not the place to start but may be
worthwhile for longtime fans who have stuck with the 52-year-old Lowe over the
past two decades.
Labour Of Love: The Music Of Nick Lowe, on the other hand, is a
tossed-off tribute album that utilizes the “house band” concept
rather than a different artist for each track. The rotating cast includes
several of Lowe’s contemporaries/former business partners (the lesser Marshall
Crenshaw and Graham Parker, the superior Elvis Costello) and a slew of session
hacks (SNL‘s G.E. Smith, Joe Clay). And I shouldn’t forget Tom Petty
and Sleepy Labeef’s contributions, because you no doubt will. Saving my review
of this album from being two words in length (“half-assed” comes
immediately to mind) is Costello’s wonderful six-minute version of
“Egypt” — a Brinsley Schwarz tune from 1972.
— Andrew Earles
Grades: The Convincer — C+; Labour Of Love — C-