Wednesday, 4/9/97
Soundbites
Morphine "Like Swimming" (Dreamworks) Inject pop into your veins
and deep red blood was never this smooth, this languid, this
sensual. Only by way of your ears can a dose of Morphine feel truly
gratifying, almost "Like Swimming" through the darkest regions of a
bottomless ocean. Tranquilized by the baritone sax, whose presence
provides the framework for every gut-grinding song, you will easily
fall prey to the cool, seductive voice of lead singer Mark Sandman.
If you have a soul, he will claim it. Everything else he will pull
deep down inside Morphine’s hidden cave of thick, heavy notes.
Blue isn’t a color, it’s a realm in which Morphine creeps about
like slick swamp creatures. Especially intoxicating are the lyrics
which Sandman delivers with coffeehouse skill. Childish concern for
providing catchy rhyme schemes get chucked out the window for
slicker run-on lines of meaningful prose. Sometimes, the words are
few and mostly atmosphere-inducing, like the track "Eleven
O’clock." It simply involves Sandman rolling out the sentence,
"Every night about 11 o’clock … I go out" to the drone of a
squealing sax.
Other times, the lyrics tell an intricately poetic story of
emotions and revelations, like in "Empty Box," possibly the most
well-written piece on the album. Sandman stops dead in the middle
of the song to soberly relate how "I can’t see where I began, I
can’t see my hands, I don’t even know if my eyes are open." Later,
in "Swing It Low," sweet images of "apple orchards everywhere" and
being "lined up in the sunshine" are given an undertone of darker
depth when put to a soft, slow keyboard beat and uttered in a
captivatingly sorrowed tone.
Only the song "Early to Bed" disappoints, as a Huey Lewis and
the News-style, "Tron"-sounding ’80s electric slide noise rips
through a gratingly blunt sax beat. Outside of this one blemish,
"Like Swimming" holds its own against previous Morphine offerings,
keeping this band one of the music world’s many less-mainstream
treasures. Vanessa VanderZanden A
White Town "Women in Technology" (Chrysalis) Miss your old Casio
keyboard from sixth grade? Big fan of porn music? Or just really
nostalgic for really cheesy ’80s music? Well, synth maestro Jyoti
Mishra from England has got the goods for you. Mishra, under the
stage name White Town, has given us "Women in Technology," a
12-track synth-pop feast that sounds a lot like that crap KIIS-FM
used to play in the late ’80s in between those Whitney Houston and
George Michael songs.
"Women in Technology" isn’t pop perfection by a long shot. Most
of its synthesizer demo sequences sound a lot like the score for
"Super Mario Bros." But it’s not all bad. "Undressed," however
sophomoric and cheeseball, is reminiscent of those cool, old-school
Psychedelic Furs and Depeche Mode songs. "Thursday Night at the
Blue Note" is a multirhythmic piece that isn’t too bad, save the
lyrics ("Look, I know I’m no oil painting/ But my face doesn’t need
re-arranging/ And I’m quite attached to all my bones").
And then there’s the radio favorite "Your Woman," the infectious
little ditty that makes you move beyond your will. It’s really the
only radio-worthy song on the album, intact with all its sexual
ambiguity, as Mr. Mishra belts out "Well, I guess what you say is
true/ I could never be the right kind of girl for you/ I could
never be your woman."
The rest is just lousy ’80s rehash. Even as Mishra gives us his
best Martin Gore (Depeche Mode) and Sice (Boo Radleys) impressions
with the sappy, acoustic-guitar laden "A Week Next June" and "White
Town," his Mr. Heartbroken sound is hardly audible above the
laughter you’ll find impossible to hold back. "Women in Technology"
has a few good moments, but it mainly sounds like those now
embarrassing tapes you made as a kid from the radio. Mike Prevatt
C
Manasseh Meets the Equalizer "Shining" (Acid Jazz/ Hollywood)
Taking muscle relaxers while listening to Manasseh Meets the
Equalizer’s latest album, "Shining," may seem like a good idea.
Throw in some alcohol and a plastic bag and not only are you on
your way to that big UFO in the sky, but you’ve got the appropriate
tunes to accompany you on your interstellar journey. Thoughts of
soul-satisfying ecstasy will flow karmically into your inebriated
body as you let your mind drift away on the soft, wafting notes of
synthesized harmonic energy.
Yet, just such an experience may prove a dangerous thing. Take
out the muscle relaxers, and though you will have lost all chances
of making it to Heaven’s Gate, you will find yourself just as
soothed and way less attracted to the fashion faux pas of fresh new
Nikes and purple cloaks. In other words, you won’t go comatose if
you stick with a straight shot of Manasseh. Regardless, "Shining"
will combat your collection of Orb albums for strange-sounding
mind-melt mood music. The crossover between electric and acoustic
guitars provides a spooky aura amidst a varying drum section of
calming tabla arrangements and spacey keyboard beats.
After the first airy track of trickling electric guitar currents
and tambourine and flute fluttering, the scene is set for silken
forest winds and soft winding creeks that flow straight to the
moon. By the third track, the floaty reggae voices only somewhat
ground the music to the Jamaican soil of this earth and the
familiar rasta melodies sampled in an uncharacteristically foggy
way. When these voices appear in following songs, it seems only as
an instrument running parallel to the other slew of fuzzy sounding
noises. One track even calls on the high-frequency murmur of ocean
whales to augment the already lulling flow of a crashing surf.
Definitely, Manasseh Meets the Equalizer calls to acid lovers of
all ages with their jazz recording, "Shining." Vanessa VanderZanden
B+
Archer Prewitt "In the Sun" (Carrot Top) Mostly an
undistinguishable album, "In the Sun" numbs the mind and bores the
already tired brain cells hungry for stimulation after the drudgery
of a long day. Yet, Prewitt has mastered the art of splicing
together elevator-style violin choruses and repetitive horn parts
so well that even sleigh bells used as a backup instrument seem
refreshing.
Still, many tracks meander from one slender jazz improvisation
to the next, setting the mood for Prewitt’s solemn lyrics. In "I’m
All You Know," he moans, "I need some time alone/ No one else is
home/ Not even on the phone," finishing with, "We don’t try at all/
We’re running from our lives/ We chase each other’s eyes/ For looks
that can be read/ And everything’s been said."
Okay, the man has something to say. But the question is, how
much time do you want to invest in dilapidated notes and groggy,
simple guitar work to find out what that something is? Wouldn’t you
rather put on an album that invokes some kind of pleasurable
emotion? It could be that with numerous plays, Prewitt’s stark
musical style will spark an ecstatic leap to a higher spiritual
plane. Or, it could be that Prewitt needs to figure out how to
write a song.
In any case, the calming work ends more soulfully than it
begins, with the songs "Let Me Fade Away" and "In the Sun." Both
tracks maintain his bleak sound while adding an element of warmth
that many of the other pieces lack. If you enjoy a fine, subtle
musical flavoring, this may be an album to experiment with, but
otherwise, don’t try this one at home. Vanessa VanderZanden C+
Soundbites runs Mondays and Wednesdays.MORPHINE
"Like Swimming"