Uh Huh Her
PJ Harvey
(Island)
On Uh Huh Her, PJ Harvey’s righteous,
angel-of-death passion and anger are imprisoned within familiar
lyrical tropes and familiar, simple arrangements, which
make her latest release as weak and timorous as her
previous masterpiece (and greatest album), 2000’s
Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea, was strong and confident.
The shocking, beautiful thing about Stories From
the City, Stories From the Sea was the way Harvey’s
magnificent, operatic, intensely carnal vocals embraced songs
of heartache and songs of pure romantic bliss. As
unlikely as it seems, that album’s “You Said Something” is one
of the great romantic mix-CD tracks of the new
decade. Unfortunately, Stories‘ ecstatic engagement with the
world has been exchanged for something far more typical:
bitterness, resignation, and terror. In Uh Huh
Her‘s songs, a lover’s mouth and a radio tune are not passports to
nirvana. They’re kisses from an asp.
This conscious downer is a statement of both
negation and independence. Harvey writes all the lyrics,
plays every instrument except the drums, and produces
every single track. As she has before, she charts the systole
and diastole of the broken heart. If she’s a sloppy,
somewhat mundane writer (one of the powerful punker
numbers compliments a man by saying, “You can straighten
my curls”), she often elevates her narratives with her
obvious commitment to the material. She also programs the
tracks to offset their lyrical similarity, alternating between
softly cooed ballads and heavily distorted
electric stomps. The jarring shifts in tone and dynamics sustain the first half of the
album, but after “Cat on the Wall,” things
drift off to sea. In fact, one interlude consists of seagull sound effects. But this album
is too trim for such atmospherics, and the seagulls sure as hell don’t lead into
“Lady Cab Driver.” Strangely, they might
have done just that in the old days.
Because Harvey is a powerful, deeply romantic artist
with plenty left in the tank, this failure emanates a Neil
Young-like integrity. As she quavers on “Pocket Knife,” “I just
want to make my own fuck-ups.” Instead of fucking up,
though, I’d like to hear her growing up. —
Addison Engelking
Grade: B
Listening Log
Red Bedroom —The Fever (Kemado):
Like a harder-edged Franz Ferdinand sans hit or hype, this NYC
quintet spins received sounds into frantic post-punk dance
music. Both bands dig Bowie, to a draw. But the Fever know
their Yankee roots. Last time out they covered Sheila E.; this
time they evoke Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five
without embarrassing themselves. Take that, Brits! (“Cold
Blooded,” “Gray Ghost,” “Scorpio”)
Grade: A-
Drag It Up –The Old 97’s (New
West): Three years ago, the Old 97’s bid “alt-country” adieu with raging
pop guitars, tart vocals, and some of the slyest, sexiest
relationship lyrics ever conceived. The record was
Satellite Rides, and few outside their cult bought it. Here, after an iffy solo
move by frontman Rhett Miller, they’re back with alt-country
indie New West, and if that sounds like a regression, well it
sounds that way too. Slower, rootsier, less agitated, less
immediate — compared to the band’s past work, this is a total downer.
Compared to the typical “Americana” album?
More than passable. (“Won’t Be
Home,” “Moonlight,” “Adelaide” )
Grade: B
Crunk Classics –Various Artists (TVT):
In an age of downloading and CD-burning,
this Dirty South sampler can’t possibly
compete with the one you can make yourself, especially since
you aren’t likely to leave off “Get Low,” which
Crunk Classics does despite the fact that it was released on the TVT
label. The album collects representative but not standout
tracks from Lil Jon, Trick Daddy, Three 6 Mafia, etc. It
sounds okay, but not as good as commercial rap radio on an
average weeknight. (“Get F***ed Up” — Iconz, “Raise Up”
— Petey Pablo, “Where Dem Dollas At” –Gangsta Boo,
“Do It” –Rasheeda)
Grade: B-
Definitive Jux Presents, Vol. 3 –Various Artists
(Def Jux): This sampler provides too much fodder for
those convinced that the indie hip-hop scene is no fun.
NYCers Aesop Rock and El-P are the ideological
standard-bearers, but it heads up to Boston (The Perceptionists)
or skips out west (Murs) to shore up the head-bobbing
basics. (“Medical Assistance” — The
Perceptionists, “Dysexlia” –Rob Sonic, “You’re Dead to Me”
–Murs, “Oxycontin Part 2” –El-P featuring Cage, “Clean
Living” — RJD2) n — Chris Herrington
Grade: B+