ROCK • A • RAMA

ROCK-A-RAMA

This months’s Rock-A-Ramas were written by Craig Zeller, Jon Young, Richard Riegel, Karen Schoemer, J. Kordosh and Michael Davis.

FRANKIE VALLI AND THE FOUR SEASONS 25th Anniversary Collection (Rhino)

No doubt about it: this super deluxe fourrecord boxed set is the everlovin’ past blast anthology of the year. The Seasons were one of the major—you hear me? MAJOR— groups of the ’60s and certainly one of the most overlooked in these troubled times. Now, at long last, every one of the classic AM hits (including a well-selected sampling of Frankie Valli’s solo career) have been collected under one roof. The final side falls a bit short only because it’s ’70s stuff (sorry, grease just ain’t the word), but what comes before that is out of this world. These masters of heartbreak martyrdom, excrutiating self-sacrifice, agonizing break-ups and hopeless obsessions always had two secret weapons on/hand—ultra-hot percussion (I mean, great drumming) and an unerring sense of vocal dynamics (“Let’s Hang On,” “Dawn [Go Away]” and “Walk Like A Man”—and about two dozen others—are masterpieces of tension-release euphoria.) As for Frankie’s falsetto.. .well, I’ll let Nik Cohn have the last brilliant word: “It would scream out of your hi-fi like some insane airraid siren, and it deafened you, destroyed you, turned you blind. So you’d stumble and shake in the sheer wildness of it. You’d be tripped out on sound alone." C.Z.

THE TEXTONES Cedar Creek (Enigma)

These Texas-via-L.A. folk-rockers try so darn hard, it’s a shame to report their wellintentioned LP falls flat. Led by sturdyvoiced Carla Olson, the quintet mixes a bit o’ country, a dash o’ Petty, a pinch o’ Stones, and other compatible ingredients, but the stew never reaches a boil. Everybody needs to loosen up—Olson tries to ram home each syllable, and the band’s so stiff they can’t swing in the slightest. (Hearing ’em try to boogie on “You Can Run” is downright painful.) The gospelish “Every Angel In Heaven” hints at reservoirs of talent and passion as yet untapped, so it might be wise to sound out the ’tones again further on down the road. J.Y.

GEORGE MICHAEL Faith (Columbia)

Can’t deny the big Whamster suffers from major flaws: besides being furry enough to play the Werewolf without makeup, he’s guilty of such witless juvenilia as “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go.” None of this, however, should deter you from Michael’s entertaining solo debut. The hits alone make Faith worth the trouble: between the cha-cha zip of the title track and the thumpin’ “I Want Your Sex” (complete with that daring propleasure message), the LP boasts two of ’87s best singles. No complaints about the funky “Monkey” or the torch-song elegance of “Kissing A Fool,” either. Even inevitable smoochie ballads like “One More Try” have acquired a luster, suggesting Georgie’s ready to assume the mantle of all-round pop good guy from the venerable Elton John. J.Y.

LEATHER NUN Force Of Habit (IRS.)

I know you don’t want to hear about anymore Lou Reed/lggy Pop obsessives at this' late date, but the fact that these particular obsessives are neither Anglo nor American but gloriously Swedish (!) makes their antique devotion to our twin rock antichrists seem a sardine more noteworthy. You haven’t lived until you’ve heard Unca Lou faithfully recreated with a Svenska accent (“For The Love Of Your Eyes”). But if you really wanna grow blonde hair on your chest, try Leather Nun’s “Pink House,” an anti-American diatribe in which cradle-tograver Jonas Almqvist bitches aplenty about having to live in a “John Koager veedeeo” (say what?): “Rambo Reagan is forcing me to eat American pie.” Welcome to the klub, bub! As a special bonus, this LP includes several kilos of that lost feedback the Jesus & Mary Chain set out with their garbage last month. R.R.

THE VERLAINES Juvenilia (Homestead)

American labels are scrambling to get their hands on a thundering crop of independent New Zealand garage messiahs, including the Chills, the Verlaines and Sneaky Feelings. The Verlaines are the first of the lot to actually make it to vinyl here in the U.S. via this compilation featuring singles and an EP originally released on New Zealand’s Flying Nun label. Melodically astute and lyrically inventive, this trio gnaws on pop till it’s raw, then fortifies it with elliptical counterpoints from classical music and bastardized rhythmic syncopations from jazz. And Graeme Downes’ gnarled guitar ploughs like some sideshow heathen throughout. Staunchly unpredictable, the Verlaines will tumble a carousel organ into the middle of the glorious “Death And The Maiden,” or shred a tempo in “Burlesque” without botching the overall coherence. And if you think this means they’re no fun, guess again. Juvenilia’s 10 tracks are more ecstatic than jelly beans, not to mention a lot better for your soul. So dig in. K.S.

EASTERN BLOC (Paradox)

I probably wouldn’t have bothered with this record at all if the group didn’t include Ivan Krai, blank-Czech associate of both Patti Smith and Iggy Pop in the good old days, as Eastern Bloc’s music is relentlessly pedestrian as N.Y.C. rock goes. Try Eddie Money and Scandal (Eastern Bloc drummer Frankie Larocka once worked in the latter group, as a matter of fact) for reference points. Workmanlike midtempo stuff, and even Eastern Bloc’s remake of Krai’s and Patti Smith’s (not Patty Smyth’s) “Dancing Barefoot” is far more mellow than my tootsies recall it. I’m sorry too that these guys were reduced to writing songs for lap dog John Waite, but this album shows why. R.R.

RY COODER Get Rhythm (Warner Bros.)

After five years carving a niche for himself in thej)soundtrack trade, Codder is back out front again with one of his strongest panAmerican-rock sets yet. There’s a nastier edge to his slide than ever before and Jim Keltner’s loose-limbed drumming opens up the pocket so that everyone in this allstar band can shine. Highlights include three new Cooder collaborations and a ferocious, fuzzy “All Shook Up”—how does this guy get away with doing so many Elvis covers? M.D.

JOE COCKER Unchain My Heart (Capitol)

Finding the material to match the voice is a problem for any interpreter; for Joe— who should be near the top of the rock interpreters list by now—it’s becoming more like a plague. Nothing wrong with the title track, and taking on Ray Charles isn’t something one does lightly. But aside from that, “Two Wrongs” and “River’s Rising,” the LP comes nowhere near what Cocker can do onstage, which appears to be his natural milieu. More Dylan covers on the next one is the easy solution. J.K.

MARTHA DAVIS Policy (Warner Bros.)

Martha’s been looking after her property values; in place of yesteryear’s slightly sleazy Motels, she’s erected some bright, modern condos to house her new songs in. Her characters go through their familiar tuneful twists but the sleek, radio-friendly production makes this stuff sound an awful lot like the other condos, er, songs on the airwaves. Which must be Martha’s policy. M.D.

EXPOSE Exposure (Arista)

This trio of Cuban-American women may be Clive Davis’s “answer” to CBS’s recent sex & squeal success with Miami Sound Machine, but it fills my need for mechanical kicks, too. Exposure features glossy superficiality, “drum programming,” hardboiled fashion strutting, and the dread disco dynamics—in short, every quality that worries the Boss’s legionnaires right to the tendons of their faded-plaid biceps. I think it’s kind of neat. Exposure’s ballads (of which there are too many) tend to echo Madonna complete with stuffed bustiers but minus her creepy videotronic propagation of the faith. And that wild reverse-heartbeat change in “Come Go With Me” has to be one of the major hooks of the year. Tell guitarist Nestor Gomez I sent you. R.R.