Mike Bennett Reviews, October, 2003

Scroll down for reviews of the latest releases by Shelby Lynne, Sloan, Hawksley Workman, Tallulah and The Pearlfishers

Beulah
Yoko

(Velocette)

velocetterecords.com

Beulah's indie-pop has a broad appeal amongst the college set, as it has enough melodic mojo to captivate Elephant 6 fans, while it also has a modern edge that appeals to folks into emo pop stuff like Death Cab For Cutie. And fans of self-pity, most of whom are in the 18 to 24 demographic, can find a lot to like here, as many of the songs deal with busted romances.

On the lead track, "A Man Like Me", Beulah sets the tone. The song has an R & B structure that isn't too far away from a classic Zombies tune. That is, until the chorus, which is melodically consistent with past Beulah work: "Try, try wasting all your days/on a man, a man like me." While the occasional bit of jauntiness comes through, this is a mid-tempo album dedicated to picking up the pieces while trying to figure out what the hell went wrong.

As such, the album does shy away from a prime Beulah asset -- the ability to record some of the happiest college radio pop around. However, what is lost in crowd pleasing numbers that make the kids dance, is more than compensated for by the extreme level of engagement in the material. Other strengths and a few weaknesses also come forward in sharper relief.

There can be no doubt as to the band's arranging skills. Consistently throughout the record, the band is highly creative in decorating their songs with just the right amount of lead guitar or horn accompaniment, for example. And their flair for the dramatic, big statement is apparent, without ever going overboard. Yet the band is somewhat stunted melodically. A lot of this might be the result of Miles Kurosky's extremely limited voice. This is where the arrangements help a lot. Moreover, with so many crawling tempos, the lyrics here don't always hold interest. If you're looking for a fresh take on love lost, this ain't the place. Of course, when you're the one who's losing the love, originality takes a back seat to the hurt, and all the other thoughts that endlessly cycle through the brain.

A lot of these thoughts come through on this collection, enlivened by the committed execution. The moody "Fooled with the Wrong Guy" is a stellar track. The song combines a soulful groove with reverbed guitar accents, which wind into an immeasurably sad yet defiant chorus. Kurosky's downbeat vocal counters the ascending melody. He may be singing that "you've fooled with the wrong guy," but it's questionable whether he means it. There are other nice touches in the song, from melodica to horns to banjo.

This song typifies the reserved and resigned mood that pervades most of the tracks. Accordingly, when the band does crank it up a little bit, it is extremely powerful. "My Side of the City" is a study in musical and lyrical contrasts. The verses are post-modern Kinks riffs juxtaposed with quavering and yearning choruses. The lyrics find Kurosky describing his somewhat decrepit neighborhood in the verses, but in the choruses he just wants his girl to be with him, amongst the squalor. The primary riff of "Your Mother Loves You Son" sounds like angry late-‘60s Stones. There's a cool instrumental break, where a lead guitar part doubles then triples, and then some fuzz bass interlude builds a bridge for the band to really rock out.

This intricacy works equally well on quieter numbers like "You're Only King Once". This pretty number incorporates piano, mellotron and strings. At the beginning, Kurosky sings with a measure of world weariness in his voice. The strings suddenly build energy and then just stop -- leading to the tender refrain "smile/please smile/I just want you happy". The song then adds more instruments -- horns, pedal steel and more strings, which give a sense of uplift. This song sounds an attempt to console someone with a broken heart, knowing the words probably won't do the trick.

On "Don't Forget to Breathe", the sense of grandeur is immediately apparent. Built on chords similar to Oasis's "Wonderwall", this song perfectly captures the odd combination of defiance and defeat that one feels after a breakup. On one hand, the backing vocals chime in "don't need your love", while on the other, Kurosky sings of lying awake at night, noting that "in my dreams, I'm dying". In the end he concludes, it "makes no difference". At this point, the band kicks in, the way Mott The Hoople used to do on their big ballads, giving the song a positive musical resolution.

The standout track is "Me and Jesus Don't Talk Anymore". This shows the band's utter confidence. The song starts out with a jazzy instrumental section. Between the distant choral vocals and the swaths of guitars and muted horns, an atmosphere is set. Then, it's just vocals and piano. The song then builds back up to one of the poppiest melodies on the record. The song ends with an indie-pop hoedown. This song contains more good ideas than many band's whole albums.

And this track, more than any other, shows that Beulah's limitations are tiny obstacles in light of their inventiveness and musical ability. I have very few records that have continually revealed their charms over repeated plays as much as this effort. It is interesting to note that prior to this release, Beulah had mentioned that it might be their final album. I've now heard this may not be the case. I should hope not. They may have just started reaching their potential.

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Sloan
Action Pact

(Vik/BMG)

sloanmusic.com

This may be the most straightforward album of Sloan's career -- sleek streamlined songs that evince their effortless craftsmanship. At one level, this may be a bit of a disappointment, as it seemed with their last release, Pretty Together, the band had really deepened its approach, creating some songs of amazing emotional acuity and resonance. At the level of pure entertainment, however, Sloan continually churns out numbers that are instantly catchy and show a mastery of all sorts of devices that are designed to keep a song in your brain and make you want to hear it again and again.

Sloan's fascination with the big dopey ‘70s arena rock riff is in full evidence here. And, as always, they manage to pay tribute to the lowest common denominator appeal of said riffage, while simultaneously enriching the power chords with subtle elements that make the songs stupid and smart at the same time. "Backstabbin'" is a prime example, hinging on a basic repetitive chord pattern, but overlaying a lot more melody than would normally accompany the greasy rock. The work of the rhythm section really makes this song cool -- it's alternatively blustery and funky. This is one of the best post-modern hard rock toons since Urge Overkill dropped Saturation back in alt-rock's heyday. Other tracks, like the opener "Gimme That" and "Ready for You" also bear the stamp of hard rockers of the past.

There are some sublime slices of power pop. Every element is in place on "I Was Wrong". The song gallops out of the gate on a winding lead guitar figure, which flows into the verse. The verse repeats a sunny melodic phrase, which is contrasted by a final descending melodic phrase. The song then hits the chorus melody, which is overlaid on a variation of the intro guitar part. The harmony vocals throughout are spectacular, especially during the middle eight, which works with that original guitar lead figure even more effectively. This song makes a strong argument for bringing back AM Top 40 radio.

The softer Beatle/XTC facet of Sloan is not so much in evidence here. "The Rest of my Life" may be the only track that fits in that mold. But it is certainly one of their best pure pop tracks ever, with an insanely memorable chorus. On "Who Loves Life More?", the band takes another stab at ‘70s FM radio California rock, on a song that blends some laid back drama with a slight R & B pulse.

The final track, "Fade Away", is a stupendous closer. As I stated earlier, a lot of this album lacks some of the emotional gravity of the last disc. This track almost single handedly makes up for it. It's shimmering and soaring sound is saturated in sadness. It's downbeat and uplifting at the same time. The song could be interpreted as a look at mortality, and a struggle with being able to accept it. Or maybe the song is more self-aware, and is a veiled reference to the band itself, with lines like "trace patterns to see/if we're just rewriting history" and "a carbon copy I could have been/don't you know I never/settled for the in-between." While it may be hard to pin down the exact meaning of this tune, the words and music really effectively convey the enormity of trying to figure out what it all means, in a manner that is both inspiring and daunting. The music is large and strong and unforgettable.

It could very well be that "Fade Away" is a bit of self-analysis. Sloan is definitely at a plateau, albeit a very lofty one. Unless they make a radical shift in style, their future seems to be one of refinement. This album may be a watershed, a turning point or a final peak. Or the next one might sound just like it. Regardless, enjoy.

Hawksley Workman
Lover/Fighter

(Universal/Isadora)

umusic.ca

On his third full-length album, Workman really tones things down. Though signs of his audacious nature peek out, this album seems to be deliberately swaddled in a cloak of sophistication. I suppose this means that any Roxy Music comparisons should now focus on Flesh And Blood and Avalon. O.K., maybe that's going a bit too far. Still, the relatively low key nature of most of this album is really a surprise.

The question becomes, does such an approach play to any of Workman's considerable strengths? Well, he still has a flair for the dramatic. It doesn't reach the Weill- (or Queen-)like heights of a few tracks on 2001's (Last Night We Were) The Delicious Wolves, but two tracks in particular show that Workman can still get the pulse racing.

On "Tonight Romanticize the Automobile", Workman is a fatalistic lover, perhaps under the influence of J. G. Ballard's novel (or the movie, directed by fellow Canadian David Cronenberg) Crash. The song has a classic insistent rhythm that fits a driving song. Workman's accents the rhythm with well placed guitar ornamentation. And his voice, with its effortless high range, takes this standard song form and makes it come alive. Workman also shows how a simple phrase (in this case "to not romanticize the automobile"), linked to a musical phrase, makes a hook extra large. Throw in a blistering guitar solo that takes the song home, and you have another Hawksley classic.

Workman's searing guitar work also keys the first single, "Anger as Beauty". In this case, it's the chunky riff that fuels the verses. The song tones down in the chorus, to allow Workman to show off his softer sensual quaver, before he explodes in a cascade of wails. Quite frankly, as often is the case with Workman, the lyrics are somewhat cryptic, painting only part of the picture. They convey the appropriate mix of the sinister and the romantic, without really adding up to much. Not that I'm demanding literal lyrics; here, the cryptic words work because they add to the overall tension created by the music.

Workman can also craft a pure pop song as well as anyone around. But not just anyone would begin a bouncy piano ditty by singing "Fuck you". And "We Will Still Need a Song" is a happy song. While the engaging shuffle (which has a classic ‘60s British pop sound) goes on, Workman notes "the poets let a generation down/modern music should be a healing sound/it's the only way." See – he may be a wiseacre, but he has a lot of heart. It's even better when Workman's sunny side is accompanied by a moony romanticism. This yields songs like "Motorbike" (which is one of two uncredited tracks at the end of the disc). This song is very romantic -- a simple declaration of the wonderful things two lovers can do once they can ride around on their own motorcycle. Workman's voice soars, and he shows why he is in league with the late Jeff Buckley and Rufus Wainwright in the ability to dazzle without losing sight of the song.

A couple of tracks don't fully work. "No Reason to Cry Out Your Eyes (On the Highway Tonight)" just seems a little bit too cloying, with a chorus that sounds too cutesy, like The Cars last couple of albums. Workman is too sly for this to sound sincere. "Smoke Baby" is an insinuating track, built on slinky sounds over a slightly funky rhythm. However, the groove isn't strong enough to sustain the six minute length. Moreover, the rap interlude by Grand Nobel simply doesn't add anything to the song but more time. (As an aside, I like rap, but it rarely seems to improve a pop track.)

What really differentiates this album from Workman's last album is that it is much more narrowly focused musically. For many artists, this would be a big help. Certainly, Workman acquits himself well. But I think that one of his strengths is that he is capable of doing anything. So as good as this album is, it seems like it is less than he is capable of. To a degree, this is unfair, as this is still a very good album. Still, I'd like to think that Workman will not just entertain me, but astonish me like no one else can.

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Tallulah
Step Into the Stars

(self-released)

tallulahmusic.com

This debut disc spotlights a savvy Chicago quintet that celebrates pop conventions (particularly the frothy swinging ‘60s kind) while finding ways to subtly subvert them. Their efforts are aided considerably by the fact that they have three strong vocalists. Amy Warren, who is also an actress with the Steppenwolf Theater company (which has given the world such thespian heavyweights as John Malkovich, Joan Allen and Gary Sinise), is the primary lead vocalist, and she has one of those voices that is crystalline and supple. Warren could tackle a scat singing jazz tune or a country weeper as well as she nails the pop tunes here. Lead guitarist Amalea Tshilds and bassist Troy Morris also get a bit of time alone on the mike, and are quite fine, but their main role is combining with Warren for some awesome three-part harmonies. At times, the three women combine smoothness with quirkiness in a manner similar to The Roches, a comparison not to be taken lightly.

These vocals are combined with the instrumental interplay that has developed over four years of gigging, providing Tallulah with a distinctive personality. In addition to the above elements, keyboarist Eddie Carlson (better known for playing bass in Frisbie, The Aluminum Group, and Poi Dog Pondering) is always prominent in the mix, often setting the sunny tone for the songs. The Tallulah sound has familiar elements, but the vocals and band put them across in a way that is utterly distinctive.

This is immediately apparent on the striking opener "Untied". The song bops along with a rhythm that is somewhere between Motown and The Jam's "Start". Then the song just halts, and moves into a superslow section, spotlighting those beautiful harmony vocals. The juxtaposition is so jarring, it pays off very well. Throw in the delicious fade out, where they weave in multiple vocal themes, and you have a song that is hypnotic and danceable (with parts in which you can take a rest).

Yet that song nearly pales in comparison to "Bacon", which has been a centerpiece of the Tallulah live show for quite a while. This song is an original combination of beauty and bile. Over a simple Tshilds guitar part and delicate rhythm, the angelic vocals initially wax dreamily about bacon. As the vocals get more intent, the real message comes clear. The song is about food and body image issues. The languid verses are contrasted by passionate middle eights: "No one comes out of the box that way/you know how people will say/you're Ruebenesque/or ask you if you're pregnant/all the time." The song continues to swirl, mounting the tension, until the final vocal mantra, "please don't tell anybody my secret", builds and builds in intensity, the band following in lockstep, and Warren soaring at the end. Stunning.

Not everything is so complex. On the title cut and "Wicked Storm", Tallulah's lounge pop skills are shown to full effect. These numbers are martini cool. Drummer Jim Becker adds his voice to the mix, providing a nice compliment to Warren's leads, as he is smart enough to know he can't compete. And "Big Bang" may win the award for the most appropriately titled song of 2003. Imagine a Zumpano song played with the verve and drive of Elvis Costello and the Attractions (around the time of Armed Voices and Get Happy). This is a song that explodes with energy, from Becker's driving drumming, to Tshilds' tight lead guitar, with all three vocalists keeping up with the melody that twists and turns like a rollercoaster. Every time I hear it, I'm breathless.

The production on this album is very basic. What might have been lost in not having pristine separation and fancy engineering, is mitigated, to a degree, by the energy and live feel that has been captured. That being said, in an ideal world, I'd like to hear a Tallulah record where they could really add some bells and whistles. In the meantime, this debut more than suffices to chronicle a talented band that took its time, figured out their assets and then found out the best way to show them off in song.

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The Pearlfishers
Sky Meadows

(Marina)

parasol.com

It is not a shock to write that David Scott hasn't come up with any major surprises on this new Pearlfishers record. By that, I mean that there are no forays into electroclash or alt-country or rap. Scott adheres to his tried-and-true musical approach, taking a great deal of inspiration from Brian Wilson and Burt Bacharach and other masters of soft orchestrated pop-rock. Originality is not the goal here; instead, its expression. In the delightful (and mostly) uplifting music, Scott has found a vehicle for his voice. Not just his singing voice, but his literary voice.
Scott tells stories, gives advice, does character studies, all of which reveal him to be a man who looks at the world realistically, and takes great delight in the foibles of his fellow man and the wonder of the tableau Mother Nature has laid out for us. The splendid first track really captures his attitude quite well. On "Flora Belle", Scott sings to a new born, welcoming her to the world: "What should I say about the world?/well, it's not what it's cracked up to be/you'll have a share of pain along the way/and the occasional sunny day/so go out on a limb". With that last line, the song swells into a sumptuous melodic feast, as Scott outlines an overview of all Flora Belle should go out an explore.

While "Flora Belle" takes a broad view of the world, some of the most special tunes here, in the tradition of Brit poppers like The Kinks, focus on the little things that make life just a little bit better. This is best exemplified on "My Dad The Weatherfan". This could be my dad -- Scott sings of how his father religiously tunes into the BBC, trusting them so he can properly tend to his garden. For Scott, his father's behavior is a microcosm for faith and trust in the order of things. In the lush chorus he observes: "Across the sky, angels push the clouds away/I wanna live in your way, I wanna live in your way/and though I try, I can't believe in anything." As with "Flora Belle", there is a tension, not only within the attitudes within the lyrics, but between the bright music and the undercurrent of sadness that Scott knows comes with living in the real world.

This tension is at the forefront of the disc finale "Say Goodbye to the Fairground". The melody on this number has a whiff of McCartney. The backing sounds like it could have come from a movie musical. Scott notes that "you'll never grow until" you let the whole notion of the fairground go. Yes, it was fun, but there are other concerns. And Scott realizes "if the fairground should return, you'll be older/you won't care."

So here you have an artist who makes music that evokes (and is pretty much as good as) some of the best soft pop that came out in ‘60s, saying that you can't live in the past. Move on. A contradiction? Perhaps. What comes through loud and clear, to me, is that Scott is saying live in the here and now. Life is temporary and full of new joys and challenges. Accept them, confront them and live them. All you can do with the past is learn from it. Yet, Scott recognizes the pull of looking back.

Ultimately, The Pearlfishers represent a world that is big and as beautiful as it is scary. What you get out of it is what you put into it, with luck sometimes playing a role. This is the best of all the albums I've heard by them. It's not a matter of the tunes -- David Scott is about as consistent a composer as you will find. What makes this better than the others is that the album works both at a purely musical level, awash in memorable and exciting passages, and as an emotionally gripping work that demonstrates the comforts of wisdom.

Shelby Lynne
Identity Crisis

(Capitol)

hollywoodandvine.com

This should have been the title of Ms. Lynne's last album. If you don't recall, she followed her Grammy winning I Am Shelby Lynne, an album steeped in ‘60s traditional pop, country and R & B, with a stab at contemporary hitmaking with producer Glen Ballard. This resulted in the uneven and unsatisfying Love, Shelby. The problem with that album wasn't that Shelby Lynne couldn't sing contemporary rock and pop. Instead, the problem was that in order to achieve this, her material became bland, as if she were dumbing herself down for a broader audience.

Fortunately for her (and for her fans), an artist came out of nowhere to show that you could sell the traditional pop song to a mass audience. So thank you, Norah Jones. While it's probably unintentional, the first single off this disc is melodically similar to the Jess Harris-penned hit from Jones's debut, "Don't Know Why". Still, "Telephone" stands on its own, with a downcast theme and a great vocal performance. Lynne's earthy bluesiness and controlled intensity contrasts with the urbane R & B. The jazzy guitar solo just adds to the classic feel of the tune.

The underplaying on "Telephone" is done even more effectively on "If I Were Smart". This is a track that could have just have easily come from the pen of Neko Case as Lynne. It's a spacious ballad and Lynne sings it with concise phrasing that is very appropriate for the lyrics. The chorus is "if I were smart/I wouldn't have a heart". A classic torch song couplet. Instead of tearing into the song with a fury, Lynne's matter-of-fact treatment underscores the wisdom and resignation that lead to this realization.

As a whole the ballads/slow numbers (and this album generally alternates those numbers with the relatively more upbeat songs) are outstanding. Lynne's confidence in her songs is more than justified. The biggest thing that separates this album from *I Am Shelby Lynne* is the production. Lynne handles the chores herself, and like her vocal approach on many tracks, she adheres to a less is more approach. So "I Will Stay" puts her voice up front, accompanied by only a stand up bass, some delicate guitar work and little eight-note accents on the piano. This creates a smoky ambience on par with Frank Sinatra during his Nelson Riddle era. This song smolders.

Yet Lynne is not shy to go for it when the song requires. "10 Rocks" is a bluesy shuffle with great gospel call-and-response backing vocals. On this and a couple of other songs, she exhibits a playful side that reminds me of early Michelle Shocked or Jim Croce. On "Lonesome", Lynne brings in lush strings and then multi-tracks her vocals throughout most of the song. The result is a neo-countrypolitan lament of the first stripe.

The songwriting tails off just a wee bit on the second half of the disc. Nevertheless, this record firmly reestablishes Lynne as a major artist. Presumably, she will continue to take full control over her music. More power to her, I say.

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