Scroll down for reviews of the latest from Shelleydevoto, Bob Mould, Dolly Varden and The Andersons!

The Blasters
Testament (The Complete Slash Recordings)

(Rhino)

John Bazz and Bill Bateman boogieing and woogieing, playing the essential rhythms of rock and roll. Gene Taylor truly tickling the ivories. Lee Allen and Steve Berlin both wailing and squonking on the saxophone. Dave Alvin's economic guitar playing and his amazing songs that covered more of America in two and a half minutes than an entire Rand McNally atlas. And brother Phil Alvin's voice ringing like a bell, howling like a train whistle, crying with anguish, pealing with joy, a perfect instrument whether rueing, commiserating or celebrating. The Blasters revived original rock and roll but weren't revivalists – they showed the true depth of the music, showing how vital the (then) 30-year old style was while grafting onto the music working class concerns and ideas that the truck drivers and factory workers and farmers who first made the joint jive were escaping when they helped create the music in the first place.

This two-disc set collects everything The Blasters recorded for Slash Records – three albums, one live EP – and tacks on some fine unreleased material. With Rhino's typically loving remastering treatment, this set forcefully states a case for the greatness of this band.

Their eponymous Slash debut combined covers with some telling Dave Alvin originals (some which appeared on the bands first release, American Music). The band positively smokes on Bo Diddley's "I Love You So" and Jimmie Rodgers's "Never No More Blues". And their take on Little Willie John's classic "I'm Shakin'" swings in the most insinuating way, Allen and Berlin blowing up a storm, Bateman controlling the tune with his beat and Phil Alvin laying down an anxious and joyful vocal – this was a minor hit and is definitive.

As great as these tunes are, they can't match the incredible trinity of "Marie Marie", "American Music" and "Border Radio". Brit rockabilly star Shakin' Stevens had a big hit with "Marie Marie", which has the earmarks of both rockabilly and Chuck Berry, with Alvin penning a great melody to go over the archetypical rhythm in the verses, the song getting briefly wistful in the chorus before going headlong into the middle eight like A.J. Foyt heading to the checkered flag at the Indy 500. "American Music" is Alvin's love letter to our crazy cultural melting pot, a pounding rhythm that goes all boogie-woogie in the chorus, one quatrain saying it all: "It's a howl from the desert/the screams from the slums/the Mississippi rolling/to the beat of the drums".

Where "American Music" takes a personal story (soldier in Germany wanting to hear rock and roll) and makes it a national call to rock, "Border Radio" takes the universal experience of hearing ones emotions captured on the airwaves and personalizes it in a mid-tempo masterpiece. Here, a woman has been abandoned by her man, but hopes that he's listening to her request on one of the powerful X stations coming from Mexico. More perfect lyrics: "She thinks of her son/asleep in his room/and how her man won't see him grow/she thinks of her life and hopes for a change/while listenin' to the border radio."
That song was a mere prelude to the ultimate Blasters effort, Non Fiction. The album cover, which depicts Bateman in a grease monkey's uniform (all greasy, natch) holding a red rose, defines the albums themes – working class struggle and affairs of the heart. The former is represented by great songs like "Jubilee Train", with Phil howlin' at brother Dave's New Deal tribute (as in FDR's New Deal) and "Boomtown", a chronicle of folks moving to the city for opportunity that doesn't exist ("They built new homes out on the outskirts/but there's men downtown who can't get work"). While Phil's vocal seems optimistic, the chugging music is foreboding.

Even some of the love songs are tinged with crushed dreams and spent bank accounts. The lovers in the jaunty "It Must Be Love" aren't going to let bills stop them – he works overtime to rent his wedding suit, and greets his love at the end of her overnight shift at the diner. Their love is a ray of hope in an otherwise tedious existence. Or "Bus Station", where a couple is moving to another town, looking for a niche, and holding on to what little is left of their love, because they need something in life.

This sounds grim, but it's backed by some of the most life affirming rock I've ever heard, like the jumping "One More Dance" and two great ‘50s chestnuts, "Barefoot Rock" and "Tag Along". The wild card in the pack is another standard, "Long White Cadillac", with Phil's best vocal. Musically, it's a cousin to "Marie Marie", but it's pensive, where "Marie" was peppy. Dave got into Hank Williams skin, describing, through his eyes, his last night on earth: "Sometimes I blame it on a woman/why my achin' heart bleeds/sometimes I blame it on the money/sometimes I blame it on me".

The final Blasters LP (Hard Line) was considered a sell out by some, as the band turned to Jeff Eyrich to produce. The sound is glossy, but the songs had changed a bit too. Dave Alvin was clearly trying to break out of the pure retro mold. But the last time using The Jordanaires was a commercial move, Ricky Nelson was still a teen.

Generally, the modern production is appropriate for this fine set of songs. "Help You Dream" is the loveliest ballad in the Blasters arsenal. Dave equals one of his heroes, John Fogerty, on two charged numbers, "Common Man", a scathing take on Ronald Reagan, and "Dark Night", a musical variation on To Kill A Mockingbird.

John Cougar Mellencamp was a fan, and his songwriting contribution, "Colored Lights" effectively combines his approach with what The Blasters do well. And the band's take on the traditional "Samson and Delilah", with The Jordanaires assisting, is magic.

This collection ends with the six selections that comprised The Blasters' live EP, plus other tunes from that gig. These are all covers and all proof of their live power. The liner notes are terrific too. This is an essential reissue.

Shelleydevoto
Buzzkunst

(Cooking Vinyl)

shelleydevoto.com

This disc represents the first collaboration between Pete Shelley and Howard Devoto since they started the modern D.I.Y. movement with the release of Spiral Scratch, the debut EP from soon-to-be punk legends Buzzcocks. Back in 1977, Shelley's pithy and taut guitar leads supported Devoto's ranting – Devoto's mewling voice sounding like Richard Hell crossbred with a young Bryan Ferry, a perfect vehicle for his lyrics, which were the recitations of the bitterest young Id to come down the pike in a long time.

Alas, one band was not big enough for both talents – Devoto's departure from Buzzcocks was necessary, really. Although he and Shelley's musical visions had a fairly common root, thanks to their collective exposure to cool tunes in college, they had too much to say as individuals for a partnership to work. So Buzzcocks defined punk-pop, while Devoto put his arty and angry fingerprints over the underrated Magazine and the solid, but not as good, Luxuria. Shelley dabbled in synth-dance-rock as a solo artist before reforming Buzzcocks, who aren't as good as the original incarnation, but have put out two swell albums (and one average one).

Shelley prodded Devoto out of retirement, and thank Pete for that. Devoto still has it – spastic energy, caustic wit, and sharp observations. And Shelley gets to further probe electropop. This disc was recorded live (though sounds like it was tweaked in the studio) back in 2000, and hits Yank shores now. The result is in the vein of the second wave of Wire (think Ideal Copy), and that's pretty damn good.

The music combines a wonderfully textured interlocking of keyboards and synthesizers which combine with the programmed rhythms to give the music an appropriate (different kind of?) tension. Shelley punctuates these sounds with his concise guitar leads. The music is just the right backdrop for Devoto's lyrical concerns. Howard is still a complete misanthrope, balancing his disdain for humanity with utter self-loathing. This may explain why he's never been invited to appear on Oprah -- he's the anti-Dr. Phil.

One tune musters up the rock fury of the pair's rock past – "‘Til the Stars in His Eyes Are Dead" features shards of guitar noise, augmented by a sledgehammer beat. Devoto snarls out snotty observations like "because the message is cheap and exhilarating/now he's slobbering on the glass/a sexistic boy, having a world wide wank/he says, ‘well, that's very punk of me'" Prime post-punk with the accent on punk.

Other tunes show that the boys are adept at this synth stuff. "A World to Give Away" has layers of synth blips (think Kraftwerk) providing the foundation for the rhythm, overlaid with alternating appearances by a foreboding hum and a light circular melodic interlude, completed by a dissonant off-beat ascending melody in the chorus. Meanwhile, "Deeper" sounds like an outtake from Wire's Ideal Copy, and the similarities between Colin Newman and Devoto have never been more apparent. They come closest to industrial music sounds on "Self-Destruction", although Shriekback might be an even better comparison. What's Devoto's take on suicide? "Just do it." Somehow, I don't think Nike will be offering an endorsement deal.

This isn't innovative, but it is well-rendered electronic music. More importantly, the music melds disquieting atmosphere with enough catchiness to make this an involving spin. Devoto is still compellingly repelling and should get up on his soapbox more often.

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Bob Mould
Modulate

(Granary)

granarymusic.com

After a four year lay off, the former frontman of Husker Du and Sugar is trying some new things on the first of three albums due in 2002. The big news is that the electronic dabbling he showed off on the tune "Megamanic" (from 1998's Last Dog And Pony Show) is now his primary mission. And when one of the most influential guitarists of his era turns to synthesizers and sequencers, it should be big news. It's not the first time a great guitarist has turned to synthetic sounds – Pete Shelley's solo work was steeped in electronics and Roger Miller of Mission Of Burma leaned heavily on artificial sounds with his No Man project.

Why would a man with such a distinct guitar sound traverse this path? Why not? Great guitar players create a specific texture and identity with their six string sound. Now, Mould has a chance to possibly find new songwriting horizons that are not available when he gets out his guitar.

This album shows that Mould hasn't quite reached those horizons yet, but may find them someday. He throws in a couple of guitar numbers ("Slay/Sway" and "The Receipt") which are standard issue stuff, right in line with his Sugar material. Meaning they are both good tunes, though neither is Grade A material.

Insofar as the electronic stuff goes, it sounds like Mould listened to a lot of ‘80s synth music (Heaven 17 comes to mind) and some dance club music. What is interesting is how he records this stuff, because he avoids the extreme sterility that plagues so much electronic music. Of course, a certain amount of sterility is inherent, because of how the sounds are produced. But Mould does not opt for crisp recording – despite the album title, he is happy to let the needle pin the red once in a while. While there are certain keyboard and synth sounds that do have a special warmth, Mould enhances this with his production – it's electronic and human.

Mould's singing is interesting. At times, he uses the same cranky bastard techniques that have served him well for years. But he tries some different approaches, at times sounding downright cuddly. Again, this shows that he is reaching for new modes of expression.

On a couple songs, he succeeds in finding cool new paths. "Sunset Safety Glass" is hypnotic and cryptic in equal amounts. Mould loops a whole bunch of musical themes – the Glass referred to in the title could be Philip, as there are layers of repeating sounds, though Glass didn't use such a heavy pounding rhythm track. Mould throws on a skewed guitar solo that perfectly compliments the synths. In the midst of this organized cacophony, Bob's pissed about something, but buries it in erudite but inarticulate metaphors. Not nearly as daring, "Trade" is a mid-tempo synth number, and the only other song that finds Mould really stepping out of his typical compositional mode. It's a nice tune, but I greatly prefer the daring approach of "Sunset Safety Glass".

On other numbers, Mould sticks with familiar chords and melodies, but tries to recast them. This yields dividends on "Semper Fi" and "Come on Strong". On "Semper Fi", he swirls his guitar into the rivers of keyboards, processing his vocal through some device (don't worry – it still sounds like Bob – this ain't Neil Young's Trans), and though the melody is clearly a Mouldie, it's stretched out (like it drawls, for lack of a better term), and it's quite insinuating. The bridge to the chorus could have come off a Jeff Lynne production, though it wouldn't have been so distorted. Great tune. "Come on Strong" is actually a guitar number, with the electronics merely embellishing. Again, his production is interesting – in this song, the synth fills peek out of the mix, hidden amongst the thick guitar chords. Maybe not everyone's cup of tea, but I like it.

However, there is a surfeit of average material – a friend of mine compared some tracks to Howard Jones – I wouldn't be that specific, but I know what he's getting at. So I can't recommend it, though I think it is quite interesting. This could be the start of something really nifty.

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Dolly Varden
Forgiven Now

(Undertow)

dollyvarden.com

The follow up to 2000's brilliant Dumbest Magnets can't equal its predecessor, but that's not a strike against it. The album doesn't have the same tight focus, with a bit more dabbling in specific styles. This is pretty much all the bad stuff I can say about the record. Dolly Varden is a remarkably talented band, working again with remarkably talented producer Brad Jones, who is in sympathy with every direction this quintet wants to travel.

Frontman Stephen Dawson could teach Ryan Adams a thing or two on how to write songs in the tradition of The Band and Van Morrison without sounding like you're writing The Band or Van Morrison songs. The complete lack of artifice in his roots rock is linked with his incredible voice. It's not obviously incredible, like a k.d. lang or Chris Isaak (or Van Morrison), but the more you hear him, his utter control, his splendid tenor – every word means something to him and the way he sings them makes them mean even more.

Here him testify on the title cut, a bit of twang blues (with a Mark Belletto lead guitar part that reminds me of something I can't put my finger on – is it a variation on The Beatles' "Taxman"?). Dawson cuts loose during the middle eight, and it's aural experience to behold. This song also illustrates the unique nature of Dawson's lyrics – this song seems personal but you could easily find a way to apply the words to your life situation; it's straightforward and concise, but with just enough poetry in its expression to make it special.

Dawson's vocals are often accompanied by his wife, Diane Christensen. Their harmonies are more Delaney and Bonnie than John Doe and Exene, and prettier than either. Christensen's shining lead vocal turn comes on "Wish I Were Here", an adult pop piece that has the maturity of Rosanne Cash's latter day tunesmithing with a memorable hook that Linda Ronstadt (back in her glory days) or Sheryl Crow would envy. Christensen's "Time for Me to Leave" is cut from the same cloth, and is almost as captivating.

The two duet on the one flat out country number, the light honky-tonk "There's a Magic", trading lines (and one imagines that in the studio that many smiles were also exchanged). The shuffle drumming of Matt Thobe and guest Al (Gram Parsons' sideman) Perkins' pedal steel work are outstanding. The joy of contentment really resonates in this number, which I hope is an autobiographical take on their marriage, as it captures love much further down the road than most love songs: "I made a promise to you/so many years ago/and now it's the rock where I lay my head."

There is also a subtle white soul feel on some songs, particularly "Meant to Be". With light percussion, Dawson sensually caresses his words, and the mellow vibe points in the direction of Al Green, though the lead guitar fills which accentuate the number are from more of a pop-rock than R & B tradition. This song is simply way too short for my taste.

And fans of Dolly Varden's basic roots pop will not be disappointed, as songs like "Surrounded by the Sound" and "1000 Men Like Cigarettes" sport indelible melodies and super smart lyrics (like this from "Surrounded": "you say you have a penny for my thoughts/but I'd pay one hundred dollars/to just keep my mouth shut"). "Cigarettes" slowly fades in with delicate bass work from Mike Bradburn with Christensen sounding a bit raspy – she should do this more often, as it works well.

This is another involving disc that sounds great initially and just grows and grows in depth. It only suffers in comparison to Dumbest Magnets, which seemed to be wholly integrated in a way this doesn't, but it might be that the prior album struck emotional chords in me that needed to be struck. Certainly, this album is also essential.

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The Andersons!
Family Secrets

(Smile)

theandersons.com

The four talented dudes who perform as ‘half-brothers' in The Andersons have come up with a second album that makes good on the potential displayed on their debut effort. Simply put, The Andersons are now really good at making Andersons music.
And what is Andersons music? Well, the term power pop fits their sound like a glove. But it can't convey how fresh they make it. While their tunes have all the accoutrements of the genre, and touch on a myriad of ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s pop influences, there's no genuflecting at the gods of pop past – it's just four guys wanting to rock, and rock they do.

One thing that defines the band is Derrick Anderson's lead vocals. It's great to hear someone with such an effortlessly engaging voice who doesn't come from the established McCartney-or-Lennon-or-Pete Ham mold. His voice is showcased to maximum advantage on the ballad "Falling Out", as Derrick is passionate but not overwrought – a terrific performance.

And the band as a whole is equally terrific, getting great mileage out of familiar rock riffs. Like the good timey "Everybody Knows that You're the One", which has an up and down guitar chord progression that has been used for decades, and works as well as ever. The song just percolates with positive vibes. On the other side of the vibe coin, "Snub" is a semi-put down of hoity-toity lady ("you're so damned constrictive/stock up on your silver liners/I love the little "isms" that you spout/you're so damned addictive"), that the band still gives a light hearted melodic treatment (one could easily imagine an Elvis Costelloized or Cockeyed Ghost treatment of this tune, with negative aggression) -- even though Derrick could never love her, he could never snub her, either. Shucks! The aggression I speak of comes through on the next track, "No One Rides for Free", where a Cockeyed Ghost or Cheap Trick comparison might be warranted, as the guitars pierce and slice, Derrick rips his vocal, but the band still keeps the focus on the melody.

Two other stand outs are "Hard" and "Ledonia B.". "Hard" is works a variation on the melody of The Turtles' "Happy Together", with nifty lead guitar embellishments throughout and Derrick pulling out the stops in the chorus. Oh, and the middle eight is swell. "Ledonia B." is a ballsy rocker – yeah, there are plenty of power pop songs about girls, but not nearly enough about dominatrices. This song is a start towards changing that trend. The middle eight has the aroma of The Beatles and Bee Gees, just a little swell of melody, it's so pretty, yet the lyrics provide a large contrast: "She makes him feel like the best dog in the world/far and away from her daddy's little girl." I love it.
Bob Anderson gets two vocal turns and nails them both. The slow-tempoed "Apology" is a swoony lament that wouldn't sound out of place on a Wonderboy record. The song shows how lyrics can be clever yet still have a lot of heart and soul: "My emotions were/what emotions always are/the best at first/then slowly worse/then quickly gone too far". Fans of The Vandalias will LOVE this track. "Looking for a Leader" is a mid-tempo piece, with a chorus that touches on psych-pop, though that isn't the overall thrust of the track.

While I appreciate the first Andersons album, it didn't engage me fully. This album easily turns that trick. And I feel that the best is yet to come, as the surface is still just being scratched.

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