Jeff Buckley “Mystery White Boy” Columbia
The mystery here is that this particular white boy could be so
brilliant one moment, then so flawed the next. It’s no
surprise that the late Jeff Buckley possessed an immense talent for
music, but it’s odd to hear the contrast between his good
moments and his bad ones. This disc, the latest posthumous release
from the tormented singer-songwriter, provides good insight into
the character of Buckley’s music. Pulled from live recordings
between 1995-96, “Mystery White Boy” showcases the
sensitive, tender side of his voice, his guitar proficiency and his
mesmerizing ability to coax every last bit of meaning from a song.
The long, drawn-out ramble of “Dream Brother” makes you
ache to be right there in the front row, watching his genius tumble
out onstage. As he throws himself whole-heartedly into the raw
power of “Last Goodbye,” it’s difficult not to be
swept up in the emotion of the moment. These are what live tracks
should be: riveting, explosive thrillers. Unfortunately, the album
also reveals the not-so-memorable side of Buckley, as well. He
seems distracted and unmotivated in “Mojo Pin,” while
“Eternal Life” is little more than a misguided attempt
to channel Jimi Hendrix. The production could use a lot of work, as
well, with songs like “The Man That Got Away” coming
out so unpolished and sloppy, they barely warrant inclusion.
Luckily, “Mystery White Boy” ends on a good note. A
really good note, actually. To shut down the disc, Buckley
carefully picks his way through the impossibly beautiful closer,
“Hallelujah/ I Know It’s Over,” holding nothing
back at all. The result is a song of overwhelming elegance and
power, a testament to the magic that Buckley was capable of. If the
album lived up to the promise evidenced by tracks like this, it
would be an instant classic. Sadly, it rarely does, instead leaving
an uneven legacy for a talented musician. Brent Hopkins Rating:
5
John Oszajca “From There to Here” Interscope
On a chart of musical influences, John Oszajca splits the ground
between Bob Dylan and Beck. While those are admirable models for
any musician, they’re also hard to match up to, which is what
Oszajca finds himself trying to do in a debut album that wears its
Dylan and Beck influences so clearly on its sleeve, that it’s
hard not to make such comparisons. Yet, that’s not to say
that “From There to Here” is exactly a failure; it
would be more accurately described as a sporadically interesting
case of ambition overstepping accomplishment. Dylan’s
seemingly non-sequitur lyrics in songs such as “Subterranean
Homesick Blues” (“The pump don’t work cause the
vandals took the handles”), actually form cohesive wholes and
serve as insightful social commentary. Oszajca, who sings “I
have a dog that doesn’t bark/he’s dying of a broken
heart/my best friend, he ain’t too smart/my life’s
falling apart,” on the aptly titled “Where’s Bob
Dylan When You Need Him,” doesn’t achieve this state,
settling instead for a kind of verbal pool of semi-clever disarray.
Yet, to be fair, that’s a non-fatal problem that also
occasionally plagues Oszjaca’s other most readily apparent
influence. The lead vocal arrangements and inflections on
“From There to Here” may remind one of Dylan, but the
quirky backing vocals (a great touch that pop up throughout the
album) are much more closely related to Beck, as are the less
successful Mariachi style horns on the unengaging ballad
“Valley of the Dolls.” The album’s best song
“Funny Shade of Blue,” can once again trace its lineage
directly to Dylan. The lyrics work well here and the music, if a
little derivative, is nonetheless memorable and involving; the
result is the kind of song that could be the centerpiece of a very
good album. Unfortunately, this isn’t that album. Gideon
Cross Rating: 5 Mya “Fear of Flying” Interscope
Mya’s sophomore effort is a complete departure from her
collaboration with Sisqo on the song “All About Me.”
The new LP showcases more of her take on female sexual liberation
than her previously street-savvy themes. The young platinum
artist’s voice is sweet and smooth as she embraces such
ballads as “For the First Time” and “Can’t
Believe.” Ridiculous lyrics, however, such as “nick
nack pattywack” scream bad taste. The material is shallow and
insignificant, an embarrassing loss of integrity. With such
powerful production and marketing machines that exist behind her
fierce competitors, Mya is going to have to emerge with a much
stronger package in subsequent efforts. Otherwise, she won’t
be able to contend on a grand scale and put a dent in the
competition. It is a shame to see, strong vocal skills lost in the
absence of good substance. Mya’s eclectic taste comes through
songs like the reggae inspired “Lie Detector.” She
points to further influences through her collaborations with
several different artists. Mya has worked with a broad range of
artists from Interscope labelmate Jordan Knight, to Wyclef Jean and
Jerry Wonder on the song “Pussycats.” Her talents are
not enhanced by all of these collaborative efforts, however; they
are eclipsed by the album’s lack of focus. With a dozen
producers and even more songwriters, there seems to be too much
collaboration. Doing such duets as “Takin’ Me
Over,” with Lisa Lopes from TLC may be seen as a good
promotional strategy for the burgeoning young artist. In the end,
the essence of who Mya is, or could become, runs the risk of being
overshadowed if not lost completely.
Aphrodite Manousos Rating: 4
Various Artists “Ghost Dog – The Way of the Samurai: The
Album” Epic
Even if only four people went to go see eccentric director Jim
Jarmusch’s underrated “Ghost Dog,” the score,
composed by the RZA of Wu-Tang fame, is something extraordinary,
melding avant hip hop with brooding thematic flares. Unfortunately,
whoever put together “Ghost Dog – The Album”
unwittingly decided to leave out ALL of RZA’s brilliantly
constructed instrumental tracks, putting in some obscure,
half-heartedly recorded rap songs instead ““ most of which
weren’t even in the movie. The only thing that remains is
some of Forrest Whitaker’s readings from the Samurai handbook
“Hagakure.” Underground rap artists Black Knights,
North Star and Kool G Rap churn out uninteresting tracks, and
reggae rappers Suga Bang Bang add a rather uninspired
“Don’t Test/Wu Stallion.” Hip-hop phenom Tekitha
contributes the soulful “Walking Through the Darkness,”
which sounds straight out of either the Shaft soundtrack or a lost
Bobby Womack album. RZA collaborator Masta Killah teams up with
Superb to produce the maniacally-repetitive and angry “The
Man,” which might only appeal to the hardest of Wu-Tang Clan
fans, while Royal Fam and La The Darkman contribute an almost
equally repetitive and unattractive “Walk the Dogs.”
The Wu-Tang comes together as one to produce “Fast
Shadow,” which (surprise!) is not very good either. Jarmusch
might have authorized this album in the name of avant-gardism, but
unfortunately with this song selection its hard to find any sort of
reason to buy this album whatsoever. A weak redeeming grace for the
album might be the RZA’s own “Samurai Showdown,”
which incorporates some of the awesome riffs from the movie
soundtrack and features some great rapping as well. Unfortunately,
this moment alone does not warrant purchasing this particular
“soundtrack.” But hey, at least the movie was good.
Cyrus McNally Rating: 2