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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-

New Favorite

Alison Krauss and Union Station

(Rounder)

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