Wednesday, May 27, 1998
Soundbites
MUSI C:
Massive Attack, "Mezzanine" (Virgin) Trip-hop pioneer Massive
Attack returns from the nether region of the slow beats with their
third album, "Mezzanine." A departure from their previous works,
1991’s classic, "Blues Lines," and 1994’s "Protection," this disc
stretches Massive Attack’s musical proclivity into guitars and
smoother compositions.
Once the geniuses of Bristol music, Massive Attack now faces
competition from trip-hop groups Portishead and former protege
Tricky. "Mezzanine," is the album that answers the challengers’
assault on Massive Attack’s trip-hop crown.
Massive Attack directs the music toward the brooding, decaying
melodies reserved for dark alleyways and evil men. The disc firmly
establishes an atmosphere controlled by methodic, slow-moving
beats, creating a strange beauty within usually ugly music. Vocals
for the disc come from the talented Liz Fraser of the Cocteau
Twins, Sara Jay and reggae man Horace Andy. Each contributes a
unique delivery of lyrics to the songs, but it is Fraser’s vocals
that best fit the Massive Attack experience. Her voice rolls out
harmonized silk that caresses the ears with wispy, dissolving
lyrics.
For "Mezzanine," the musical arrangements braid together sampled
and live music of the slowest kind, which works perfectly for
trip-hop music. But Massive Attack’s new guitar treatments tend to
intrude on the feel of the music rather than add to it. The dirty,
coarse guitar work on "Angel" crashes in on the tranquil flow of
sounds, the music moving in the background and the shadows that
might lead the listener to fade out the music at low points.
"Mezzanine," is a nice counter-punch to the attacks launched by
its peers, but Massive Attack lacks the personal anguish and
loathing in its music that makes someone like Tricky stand out in
the field. Trinh Bui B+
Concentration Camp, "Da Holocaust" (Priority) Like any other
musician, rap artists have their particular strengths. Usually,
they can either spout out lyrical poetry or mesh together
phenomenal, catchy beats. On rare occasions, an individual or group
has the unique ability to produce both.
The collective known as Concentration Camp (C-Loc, Young Bleed,
Big Pooh, Maxmaneli, J-1, O.G., Brown Nitty, Lee Tyme and Boo The
Boss Player) unfortunately have neither. While the multiple
overlayed background noises of guitar strumming and bell chiming
creates a surreal ambiance, "Da Holocaust," too often presents
itself as a frictional environment, sounding like someone
scratching his nails across a chalkboard. Concentration Camp
exhausts the overused, overplayed and overdone themes of "bitches,
niggas and hos."
One of the few bright spots on this album is the laid-back
"Didn’t Mean To Do It." The song offers a warped perception of
love, as the song follows the apologies of a jailed man toward his
lady love. Sounding similar to a soulful slow jam, the track cuts
away from the expected hip-hop tunes. On a solid rap compilation,
this would be a welcome surprise.
But, on an album that has trouble finding consistency and an
identity, it only furthers the disappointment. With such a wide
variety of artists comprising Concentration Camp, one would come to
expect an original, interesting and powerful set of songs. Yet,
this album only succeeds in giving the listener a taste of the
group’s unharnessed potential. Practice makes perfect, and this
group definitely needs some time and room to grow. Teron Hide
C-
Bad Religion, "No Substance" (Atlantic) All good things must
come to an end. Unless, of course, you’re the thirtysomething lead
singer for punk rock pioneer Bad Religion. Their epoch began around
1981 and, to this day, has been nothing short of enduring. Surely
it can wax nostalgic about the early ’80s punk movement singing
"The Hippy Killers" like it was yesterday. Bad Religion – in its 17
years in the making – has never been able to capture the effectual
power of its early years in any of its recent albums. The band
learned the hard way that some things just can’t be duplicated
(e.g., 1996’s underwhelming "The Gray Race").
"No Substance," just released, is a 16-track album that sounds
bigger, cleaner, and … er, poppier? Greg Graffin’s voice has
changed noticeably (from prepubescent to scholarly adult), but he
still addresses governmental, social and environmental distress
with ultra-smart dialect. This time, Graffin and company are fed up
more so with the likes of self-help merchandisers, spiritual
evangelists and psychic friends who offer up false solutions and
security. On the title song, Graffin harmonizes over Brian Baker’s
(ex-Minor Threat) guitar riff, "You look for meaning, blank smiles
are all that’s there/ You cling to your hopes while you drop to
your knees/ There’s no substance!"
Unfortunately, Bad Religion’s sincere commentary on a handful of
solid tunes is clouded by any punk rock fan’s motivation to listen
to what the older and wiser godfathers have to say. For them, the
new Bad Religion album simply means another chance to possibly hear
"You Are the Government," circa-’86, live during their next tour.
Brendon Vandergast B-
The Amazing Royal Crowns, "The Amazing Royal Crowns" (Velvel)
The album jacket reads "recorded in two sweaty days." Well, the
listener should probably only give it two painful minutes. The
Royal Crown Revue they are not. Unfortunately, someone should tell
this generic ska-pop band that it needs a little more creativity in
both its music and name in order to gain a successful album.
The music contains little entertainment value as a CD, but it
seems that it might give a live audience a treat in a few instances
such as in songs "Mr. Lucky" and "Minute With The Moneymaker."
They’re kind of peppy and somewhat upbeat, but it would be
stretching it to call them fun.
The rest of the music consists of a lot of yelling and a nice
dose of static rhythms in a style that takes you back to the days
of Jerry Lee Lewis but without the substance of real ’50s swing.
The music shies away from gripping melodies or catchy lyrics and
stays with the ABC basics of ska.
The album’s exciting, but rare, drum patterns remain far from
enough to save the album from monotony. Sure, the cover says it
contains 14 songs, but we all know it’s one dragging, stale beat.
Michelle Zubiate D+
MASSIVE ATTACK
"Mezzanine"