Christgau Consumer Guide

Christgau Consumer Guide

BY

ROBERT CHRISTGAU

"AFRICAN IMAGE"

(Gramavision)

Brutally honest right down to the name, the label promoted this entry from South African pop pros Thomas Mkhize and Glynn Storm as “more structured and somewhat less dense than Ade’s highlife [sic] style,” praising their “state-of-the-art production values, modern instrumentation, and pronounced rock, jazz, and pop influences.” In short, decorative exoticism, a touch slick, with pleading Zulu chant melodies and a trap drummer who’d fit in on Carson. I like every one of its six cuts. And love none of them.B

LAURIE ANDERSON "Mister Heartbreak"

(Warner Bros.)

It should come as no surprise that art-rock is what this art-world heroine is up to, at least on record. And though for sheer wordcraft I’ll still take Dave Alvin or August Darnell, as art-rock lyricists go she’s top-class— compare Fripp & Co., or collaborator Peter Gabriel. Given how often art-rock projects are sunk by literary malfeasance, not to mention Anderson’s fundamentally verbal shtick, she’d better be. And given how often art-rock projects are sunk by silly music, it’s a good thing too that this putative violinistcomposer has accrued so much studiocraft, utilizing sometime co-producer Bill Laswell not so much to pin down a groove as to perfect the coloristic electronic effects semiexperimentalists like to fool around with. As a result, the aural content is as suggestive as the lyrics, with a sensuality and sonic panache Anderson the narrator has no trouble living up to. For art-rock, rich stuff.A-

MARCIA BALL "Soulful Dress"

(Rounder)

Most of the new rash of soul folk, survivors and revivalists both, do little or nothing to redefine the values they hold dear, but this reformed country singer avoids any hint of neocon nostalgia. With her rolling bayou backbeat, her standards you never heard before, her habit of belting the man she’s loyal to, and the moleskin burr that textures her every line, she has the making of a downhome Bonnie Raitt, and if she keeps it up her debut manque may end up sounding even more auspicious than it does already. B +

BIG YOUTH "Live At Reggae Sunsplash"

(Sunsplash)

Like most live toasting LP’s, this tends to wander. The band intro is as irrelevant as most, tracks sometimes just fade out, and there are few recognizable songs. But the two you’re sure to notice—“Hit The Road Jack” and “Every Nigger Is A Star”—are the best introduction on record to the militantly entertaining visionary optimism of the most untranslatable of the great reggae artists. And the show as a whole sums up his loopy, un-self-conscious moral confidence like nothing else. Address: Box 7778, Silver Springs, MD 20907. B +

JAMES BOOKER "Classified"

(Rounder)

This is palpably more strident than Rounder’s 1981 New Orleans Piano Wizard: Live! The Longhair medly just isn’t as sly and delicate as it should be, and in general there’s too much reliance on the left hand, with the consequent loss of dynamic subtlety compounded by a klutzy drum mix. But except on his unintentional travesty of “King Of The Road,” Booker’s forthright way with songs like “All Around The World,” and “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” and even “Hound Dog” has a barroom feel missing from the live disc. And the glorious schmaltz of “Swedish Rhapsody” was intended by an artist with a passion for camp. B +

D.O.A. "Bloodied But Unbowed"

(CD)

Subtitled “The Damage To Date: 1978-83,” this six-buck special selects 19 tracks from the three-single, four-EP, two-LP output of the hardest working band in hardcore. Though they’re never as scintillatingly sophisticated as the Dead Kennedys at their rare best, these Vancouver boys are much more consistent, getting over on the momentum that defeats so many similar bands for the first side and turning into songwriters by the second. Old Clash fans will stand up and cheer their chanted oitogether-now hooks—and their statesmashing politics, too, I hope. Address: 1230 Grant Avenue, Suite 531, San Francisco, CA 94133. B +

DR. JOHN "The Brightest Smile In Town"

(Clean Cuts)

By playing the preserver of New Orleans piano tradition, the Dr. does an injustice to his equally fertile heritage as a music-biz sharpie, and too often on his second unaccompapied mostly-instrumental album he’s as pleasant and boring as any other session man doing his thing. The new PomusRebennack tune that kicks off side two raises hopes of a half save—until the man stops singing again. Address: Box 16264, Baltimore, MD 21210 B-

EARTH, WIND & FIRE "Electric Universe"

(Columbia)

Though it’s probably just careerist ebb-andflow, I’m tempted to blame the letdown on the return of Philip Bailey, whose falsetto spirituality might well have disoriented what’s turned into a great pop show band. Especially if his own attempted breakthrough as a pop solo is any example. B

ALBERTA HUNTER "Look For The Silver Lining"

(Columbia)

Since wonders of nature make bad records just like anyone else, what’s amazing is that the flat writing, corny sentiment, and automatic mannerisms that bring this down barely touched the two before it. And don’t be surprised if she celebrates her 90th by coming back yet again on the next one.B-

JOHN LENNON/YOKO ONO "Milk And Honey"

(Polydor)

Those too numbed by tragedy or hope to connect with Double Fantasy aren’t likely to hear this one either—it’s definitely more of the same, in John’s cas^ outtakes. But these were clearly rejected on conceptual rather than musical grounds, as just too quirky to suit the careful househusband image John wanted for his return to the arena. Which is why I like them even better, especially spiced with asides he would have erased before final release. Yoko’s songs are more recent and that’s another plus, because her pop only began to jell with Double Fantasy; the horny querulousness of “Sleepless Nights” and the cricket synthesizers on “You’re The One” are confident personal elaborations of a tradition she comes to second-hand. Only the two middle cuts on the B get soupy. What a farewell. A

NRBQ

"Tapdancin' Bats"

(Rounder/Red Rooster)

Here’s the fun record these fabled funsters have had in them for 15 years. Concentrating on original novelty tunes, all big requests at parties, it neutralizes their fatal cuteness by making a virtue of it, with highlights that include tributes to their manager and their sweeties, a throwaway rockabilly raver, and yuck-it-ups about hard times. Even the three sloppy-cum-experimental chop-and-noodles instrumentals fit in, although I could do without the climactic title number, which seems to feature a saxophone reed. A-

THE PLIMSOULS "Everywhere At Once"

(Geffen)

I explain the “underground” rep of these L.A. power poppers by asking myself whether I wouldn’t be mystified by the Fleshtones if I lived in L.A. As befits an L.A. band, they make more of a show of hitcraft, martialing coherent lyrics to actual emotional effect on a couple of slower ones, and less of a show of party mania. And I don’t like the Fleshtones’ records a whole lot either.B-

ELVIS PRESLEY "Elvis—A Legendary Performer: Volume 4"

(RCA Victor)

Deemed a worthy addition to the canon by hagiographers who label the First Live Recordings EP a rip, this apocrypha— dominated by bent unreleased versions (and songs) that include a genuinely embarrassing duet with Ann-Margret and a priceless live “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” in which the King collapses into giggles before he’s done with the first chorus—marks the unchallenged ascension of Elvis Unmasked among the faithful. It’s a fascinating document. And I’d just as soon listen to the EP, in which the pre-RCA Elvis finds a groove while making nice for squealing young country fans. ' B

"RAINY DAY"

(Llama)

Four L.A. neo-garage bands collaborate on nine of their ’60s faves, and guess what— no Strawberry Alarm Clock. They actually meld the Velvets and Big Star (a ringer, I admit) with the Beach Boys and Buffalo Springfield, picking fine songs that are rarely obvious—most impressively, the Who’s “Soon Be Home.” Will Glenn’s violin hook on “I’ll Keep It With Mine” is the only don’tmiss, but with two exceptions everything’s flowing. Not surprisingly, the Three O’clock’s insufferable Michael Quercio sings lead on both losers—alone among these otherwise well-meaning young people, he clearly thinks the music calls for condescension, with his coyly inept parody of a Keith Moon drum take-out presaging the meandering 11-minute pseudo-Hendrix jam that closes things on a flubbed note. Address: Box 2896, Torrance, CA 90509. B +

THE ROMANTICS "In Heat"

(Nemporer)

I was annoyed at first by the loud drums and big echo, which tend to dwarf their simple pop-rock, but daily doses of “Talking In Your Sleep” destroyed my resistance. Really, fellas, anything you say, I’ll stop thinking altogether if that’s the ticket. Just give me another HOOK! B +

LINDA RONSTADT "What's New"

(Asylum)

Especially given the rich little girl’s South African connection, I ignored this airless atrocity—lots of bad records sell, and parents do need Xmas gifts. But when it scored in my own critics’ poll I could remain silent no longer. Forget phrasing, interpretation, or—God knows, from someone who had trouble rocking “Heat Wave” in the studio—swing. All Ronstadt does with these fine-to-middling pop standards is stifle them beneath her moderately gorgeous voice. Her triumph is conceptual—genteel neoconservatives, kneejerk pluralists, oneupping convolutionists, and out-and-out ignoramuses all get off on the idea of a “rock” performer validating the prerock values such songs signal. And may every one of them wear a tie, a garter belt, or both for the rest of their shrinking lives. C-

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CONSUMER GUIDE

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SAVAGE REPUBLIC "Tragic Figures" •

(Independent Project)

First side is somehow sui generis and inevitable at the same time, and how to describe it? Flipper doing Afropop originals? Maturing hardcore boys who like Talking Heads more than the Doors? Unwired Wire? How about auteurist noise guitar played for one-dimensional melody over recently learned but not quite clumsy drum syncopations? Unfortunately, there are also vocals, your basic self-important post-adolescent whine and yowl. On side two, the vocals take over. Address: Box 66103, Los Angeles, CA 90066. B

SWANS "Filth"

(Neutral)

With percussion techniques borrowed from the scrap industry and a guitar bottom that lows like mechanical cattle and howls like the wind in a zombie movie, this is no wave with five years of practice, too messy for mysticism and too funny for suicide. In the great tradition of their live sets, it gets wearing and the lyrics are available to suckers on request. Not only isn’t it for everybody, it isn’t for hardly nobody. I think it’s a hoot. Address: 325 Spring Street, Room 331, NYC 10013. B +

RICHARD THOMPSON "Strict Tempo!"

(Carthage)

Cut in 1981 and now available domestically on Hannibal’s designated-for-mail subsidiary with the rest of Thompson’s catalogue, these “traditional and modern tunes for all occasions” are strictly instrumental, with Dave Mattacks holding the tempo. They’re recommended to folkies, ex-folkies, guitar adepts, and students of European song. The Duke Ellington cover excepted, I just wish they swung more—which the rest of Thompson’s catalogue does. Address: 611 Broadway, NYC 10013. B

TOM WAITS "Swordfishtrombones"

(Island)

Though it never seemed likely that Waits had the intellect or self-discipline his talent deserved, after a full decade of half-cocked beatnik color he’s finally put it together. He’ll never sing pretty, but finally that’s an unmitigated advantage. Taking a cue from his country cousin Captain Beefheart, he’s making the music as singular as the stories, from the amplified Delta blues of “Gin Soaked Boy” to Victor Feldman’s strange percussion devices (try the brake drum on “16 Shells From A 30-6”). And at the same time he’s finding the tawdry naturalistic details he craves in less overtly bizarre locales— Australia, suburbia, his own head. A-