Wednesday, November 4, 1998
Soundbites
B.B. King, "Blues On The Bayou," (MCA)
Sometimes you"ve got to get away from it all. Pour a cool drink,
cook yourself a little dinner, kick off your shoes and let B.B.
King take care of the rest. His laid-back swinging blues make a
perfect musical background for a calm evening, as smooth as coffee
with ice-cold cream.
King"s credentials need no mention. He"s been singing the blues
for so long, he"s come to represent the genre in many ways. With
his dramatic growls and stinging guitar solos, King sounds like
he"d be at home behind the microphone at a New Orleans club, which
is where you"ll be transported when "Blues On The Bayou" finds its
way onto your CD player.
For this latest jam, King brings along a sharp backing band to
augment his longtime companion, the ever-crisp-sounding Lucille. It
may seem strange to personify a guitar in this fashion, but her
voice is as recognizable as King"s throaty vocals. The
accompaniment is superb, with languid Memphis horns giving the 15
tracks a punchy background. James Sells Toney also lends proficient
keyboard work, both in the form of honky tonk piano triplets on
"Good Man Gone Bad," and a squealing organ on "Blues Boys
Tune."
"Blues on the Bayou" is a soundtrack for relaxation. Munch that
po boy, keep drinking, and enjoy. By the time "Blues We Like" comes
on, you"ll be sighing with relief, and once the closing statement
of "If That Ain"t It I Quit" hits, you"ll feel like you"ve had a
full body massage.
Brent Hopkins
Beck, "Mutations" (DGC)
Critics often credit his unique style with the vision of music
to come. Dabbling in every genre from alternative to country, Beck
Hansen utilizes his folk and country roots to produce another
successful album. Filled with a lot of mellow, acoustic numbers but
not a lot of future smash singles, this B-side album proves worthy
of the sales it"s sure to bring in.
The Latin-infected beat of "Tropicalia" and a hidden track
remain all of "Odelay" Beck that one will find in the newest album.
Instead, one finds a softer, folky Beck complete with harmonica and
Beatle or Elliot Smith-esque tunes. Tapping your foot, the
blues-inspired selection finds a new direction not usually explored
by Beck. Only hints of his old mixing habits surface above the
basics of melody and simplistic grooving.
"Cold Brains," the second best pick to "Tropicalia," sweetly
carries one over the lyrics of despair and Beck"s usual confusion.
"A trail of disasters. A final curse/ Abandoned hearst. We ride
disowned, corroded to the bone."
Melancholy and moving, "Nobody"s Fault But My Own" uses a string
section to flow passionately along a line of soft vocals that show
a differently talented side of Beck.
The album can only be described as different. Fans of a more
mainstream Beck will surely be disappointed, but those in favor of
an amazing songwriter should find nothing different here.
Michelle Zubiate
Gillian Welch, "Hell Among The Yearlings," (Almo)
In these days of over-produced, computer-engineered music,
sometimes it"s nice to get back to simpler times. On "Hell Among
The Yearlings," Gillian Welch turns out spare, folksy songs,
relying on only minimal instruments and her voice. The result: 11
tunes that could easily turn up in a New England tavern in the dead
of winter.
"Hell" begins with the stirring "Caleb Myer," a disturbing tale
of a woman killing her attempted rapist. Not exactly music to sit
and sing around the campfire, but Welch is a good storyteller, so
it"s an entertaining listen.
The album winds its way through more subdued material, like the
bluesy "Good Til Now," and "One Morning," a mournful lament of a
son who rides his horse home to die. All feature the same low-key
orchestration with only Welch and co-writer David Rawlings. The
guitar and banjo accompaniment carry along the melody nicely, but
it is Welch"s haunting vocals that give the tunes their character.
She sings with a world weary air, lending an authentic sound to the
music.
Though their greatest success comes on the acoustic numbers,
Welch and Rawlings can handle a meatier electric style as well. The
stinging ramble of "Honey Now" recalls Dylan"s first electrified
years.
Now, as winter looms on the horizon, Welch"s music seems like
the perfect soundtrack to a chilly day. Brew some coffee, light a
fire and she"ll take you away from the Southern California
bustle.
Brent Hopkins
R.E.M., "Up," (Warner Bros.)
Losing a member of a long standing band can sometimes be a
deathstroke to their music. R.E.M., drummerless after the departure
of Bill Berry, proves that this is not necessarily the case. Though
his steady stickwork is conspicuously absent from their latest
project, the band is getting by just fine.
Those nostalgic for the old days of R.E.M. may be disappointed.
Gone are the grinding guitars and rocking feel  and the sound
partially ushered in by "New Adventures In Hi-Fi" continues to
creep its way inside. The only common links between "Up" and
previous albums are Michael Stipe"s instantly recognizable voice
and the band"s collective songwriting talent. They throw in more
off-beat instrumentation, but the music does not suffer at all.
"Up" has a much more subtle feel to it than the band"s past
work. The songs linger in the background, unobtrusively weaving
their way into one"s consciousness without forcing you to actively
listen. The songs are superbly crafted, layering eerie keyboards
over muffled guitar and bass, and Stipe"s soft half-spoken and
half-sung lyrics hovering over the band"s foundation. This formula
works quite well, whether it comes in the form of the low-key rock
of "Lotus" or the folky "Daysleeper." One of the album"s most
powerful moments comes on the unlisted "I"m Not Over You," an
introspective sketch hidden between tracks. On it, Stipe sounds
nakedly honest, stripped of rock-star glam and his emotions put on
display.
With this venture, R.E.M. isn"t really going up, but they are
going out in interesting new directions.
Brent Hopkins
Vanilla Ice, "Hard to Swallow," (Republic)
Most people remember Robert Van Winkle, 31, for his 1991 rap hit
"Ice, Ice, Baby" as Vanilla Ice. Now, Ice is back with a new
"invention," but after a four-year hiatus, this new album hardly
reflects the white-bread, clean-cut Ice that became a household
name.
Instead, Ice has chosen to go more punk rock, with a mix of
distorted vocals, heavy-metal guitar riffs and electronica. Whether
this make-over is for the better may best be summarized by the
title of Ice"s new album, "Hard to Swallow." Indeed, it is.
The songs are destructive and degenerative, climaxing with Ice
yelling out refrains and screeching guitars. The songs are no
longer innocuous (with song titles like "Fuck Me").
Sometimes sing-songy, Ice still comes off as hard-core with
lyrics such as "Lit up a chronic and what did I see, this bad-ass
bitch creepin" up on me."
An album highlight is a punk-rock remake of "Ice, Ice, Baby"
 which seems like a parody.
On the final track, "Freestyle," Ice finally gets back to his
rap roots. However, original fans of the Iceman may find themselves
longing for a more "word-to-yo-mutha" flavor of Vanilla.
Howard HoB.B. King
"Blues on the Bayou"
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