Music reviews from a nut and a novice

* Editor's note: At WEEKEND we think it is important that the reviews you read each week are the best possible. This feature, where a CD is reviewed by one writer familiar with the artist and one who isn't familiar with them, will run alongside the other reviews in the coming weeks. We hope you enjoy the diversity of opinions. EVERCLEAR
welcome to the drama club/eleven seven
Ryan Corazza Grade: B This isn't your mid-90's Everclear. "Welcome to the Drama Club" serves as the group's first release on Eleven Seven Music after the band's long stint on major label Capital Records. Gone are former bassist Craig Montoya and drummer Greg Eklund, replaced with four new members to back oft-troubled front man Art Alexakis. Even after the label and line-up changes, Double A still croons like he always has -- a man battered and bruised by a lifetime of love lost and drug addictions. "I am losing the fight/I hate my life/I wish that it was easier to be in love," he sings on "The Drama King." And it is in him telling the introspective, harrowing details of his rather tragic life where Alexakis has always succeeded as a songwriter. Most cuts on "Drama Club" follow suit. But where the disc fails to impress is on cuts such as the single "Hater" and "Taste of Hell," playful tunes similar to 2000's "A.M Radio." It's nothing more than flighty, uninspired pop music. So Art, stick to your heart-wrenching tales: We prefer to be "welcomed to your drama club," indeed. Brian J. McFillen Grade: F Instrumentally, Everclear's latest is yet another album of post-grunge rock-by-numbers, the likes of which are finally, mercifully dying out after 10 years of clogging the airwaves (even if Nickelback remains an invulnerable annoyance, like herpes). However, Art Alexakis' songwriting takes things into the Shatner-esque realm of unintentional comedy. While Alexakis proclaims in "Taste of Hell," "I don't want to be vindictive now," most of the songs rail against his newly-ex-wife and former bandmates with wholly-un-self-conscious bile. This could've had potential if any wit or creativity were involved, but instead, the self-pitying tone and wannabe-hip-hop lingo (check out "Hater") could've come from a MySpace blog. These, however, don't hold a candle to the album's hilariously unsexy "sexy" songs. "The only thing I want to do," Alexakis sings in the post-breakup song "Portland Rain," "is kiss you while I'm coming deep inside of you." Yeah, that'll get her back. LIONEL RICHIE
coming home/island def jam
Mark Perlman-Price Grade: B Lionel Richie's newest album, Coming Home, is appropriately titled, as its songs seem they should be played when you come home after a party with someone you've just met, ready for a night of Richie's shag ballads. While previous Richie classics were often in the vein of the soul and jazz styles of the early 1980s, Coming Home has the distinct touch of rap/pop production (with Jermaine Dupri appearing in the credits on the song "What You Are"). Coming Home takes Richie's familiar crooning and runs it through the mass production machine that makes it sound like every Diddy, Usher or Justin Timberlake song that can be blasted at a club. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing; All the aforementioned artists are tremendously popular, and the songs are very catchy. Richie doesn't entirely fall into the pop genre, however. He still includes a few straight ballads, some Latin-esque beats, reggae and even acoustic guitar. The mix symbolizes the wide range of music Richie has produced, and why he is popular over such a wide range. Brian J. McFillen Grade: D+ Little did I know that Lionel Richie was still alive. Okay, I knew he wasn't "dead" -- but I figured that, like many other 1980s pop stars, his music career had long since evaporated, his days now filled with whatever the Bangles do to pass time. Not so, of course, and here we are with his latest album -- in which, gentle reader, you'll find that he's not musically dead, but undead -- a spent musical force animated by heavy-duty production in the same way that electric shocks can make a corpse twitch. Not to say that the album's unpleasant. The first four songs are like listening to a faucet drip, but starting with "Up All Night," the production's beats and flourishes rise to the task of making things interesting. Yet, with incredibly clichéd songwriting, and relatively unremarkable vocals, one could reasonably ask what Richie added here that Paris Hilton couldn't. PETER FRAMPTON
fingerprints/new door records
Eamonn Brennan Grade: B+ This is what happens when Peter Frampton goes on a shock and awe campaign. An instrumental collective, "Fingerprints" is probably less apt a name for the album than "Frampton and Friends" would have been, as the artist brings a menagerie of musical talent into the studio to complete this ambitious, interesting, incoherent album. Instrumental from front to back, Frampton resists the urge to lyricize, opting for lengthy guitar solos and song-to-song eclecticism. Hard to settle into, the third track, "Black Hole Sun," is a cover of, of course, Soundgarden's classic, with guitar work from Pearl Jam's Mike McCready and Matt Cameron. It's a jarring choice. "Blooze," which features Warren Haynes (Allman Bros., Govt Mule) is a ribs and cornbread-worthy track, a smoky, blues-country bite. "Cornerstones," featuring Rolling Stones Charlie Watts and Bill Wymnan, is ball-busting, virtuosic blues. There are down tracks here, mostly when Frampton ventures out without a friend or two to back him up, and the album, which feels free to jump from grunge to spanish guitar to southern blues to jazz and all the way back, is a tad bit unhinged. Be grateful: this is Frampton at his ambitious best, steering clear of Seger-esque formulaic nonsense. Whether through boredom or hubris, Frampton ventures out here. The result is only slightly shy of a masterpiece. Christopher Green Grade: B+ Peter Frampton is not a new name to me. But my exposure to his Coming Alive remained The Simpson's and Family Guy comedy sketches, not anthemic albums. Fingerprints impresses, but doesn't dazzle. Instrumental albums fail so often to accomplish anything, but not here. Jazz dances across most tracks, peppered in Led Zeppelin-era rock. Further down the line the album hits its height, matching the foot-stomping stylings of artists like Robert Randolph, The Red Hot Chili Peppers or Pearl Jam. It wades into tepid waters before ending on a high note. The album's low point is early on: a cover of Soundgarden's Black Hole Sun fails to take a fresh approach to the song. The previous track towers above in stature. But 'Prints surprises at every turn; a worthy blend of decades of rock, blues and jazz for a guy who's musical interests span Coltrane to Timberlake, including Jimmy Buffet and Public Enemy. This is a must listen for rock fans of all types: familiar or not, at least hear it out. BARENAKED LADIES barenaked ladies are me/desperation records Brian J. McFillen Grade: B Fans expecting another "Stunt" are going to be disappointed -- "Barenaked Ladies Are Me" continues to follow in the bittersweet, ballad-oriented vein of 2003's "Everything to Everyone." But, on listening to it, you'll find that's hardly a bad thing. The band's trademark "ain't we cute" witticisms are confined mostly to the first two tracks, "Adrift" and "Bank Job" (the latter being a tale of a well-planned bank robbery undone by the discovery that the bank's filled with nuns -- how very "Monty Python"). Again, members of the BNL cult might not like this, but for outsiders (like yours truly) who always found the band's more "precious" work contrived and irritating, the result is that the other 11 tracks are a surprising treat. By dialing things down, BNL craft smart, sad songs of broken hearts and loneliness, angst about the world and growing up. Solid rainy day listening. Christopher Green Grade: D The Barenaked Ladies. Wait... didn't they sing that "One Week" song back in 1998? That's about all I know about these cats (If you see my roommate drunk anytime, ask him to sing it for you. You'll be rather entertained). I never really got into them, and quite honestly, I didn't know they were still making music. Their newest outing is titled Barenaked Ladies Are Me. I don't get it... From the start of this album, I knew it was going to be a long, long 50 minutes. Now, I'm not racist against Canadians. Canada has some pretty sweet metal bands (Despised Icon, Ion Dissonance). But these Canadians aren't what I'm looking for. This album just isn't any good at all. The songs are worth detailing; I'm sorry, but this is just hideous garbage. Fans might like it, I don't know. This is Barenaked Ladies trying to be clever and sound like the Eels (one of my favorite bands by the way), but they fail miserably. The Ladies should retire back to their igloo in Canada. I need a nap after this sleep-inducing CD. BOB SEGER face the promise/hideout records-capitol Mark Perlman-Price Grade: C+ Like many musicians popular in the 1970s and 80s who managed not to die, Bob Seger is still producing music. His new album, Face the Promise, shows he's as vibrant as ever and still able to rock. Seger reminds me of a more sorrowful, country sounding, Michael McDonald. He's got a powerful, gritty voice and waxes poetic in most of his songs about love, dreams, desire, determination, etc. Most famous for songs like "Old Time Rock n' Roll", "Against the Wind" and "Turn the Page," none of Seger's new songs seem to have the staying power as some of his greats -- that is, except for "Wait for Me", which sounds strikingly familiar to the Seger classic, "Like a Rock". The album also features duets with Kid Rock and Patty Loveless, which both add a needed change of pace. Face the Promise may evoke a "classic Seger" vibe, but it's not an album that will be remembered as one. Eamonn Brennan Grade: D Calling me familiar with Bob Seger is parallel to calling me familiar with Ford Truck commercials. I know that "Like a Rock" is a Seger classic, but Built Ford Tough isn't. (These days, even the Fords aren't built Ford tough. I digress.) Seger's new album, however, feels neither like a rock nor built tough; It's stripped down, clunky, metal guitar-slapping baby formula, which poaches some of the finer bits of country and blues but fails to meld them into anything emotionally affecting. "Wreck this Heart" is an OK song, I suppose, and "Wait for Me" feels one or two notches below excellent, but the rest of the album's tracks fall precipitously from there. The leading indication of poor quality is a duet with Kid Rock on "Real Mean Bottle." If you're looking to Kid Rock to boost your album sales and/or credibility -- while singing about the meanness of alcohol, no less -- I'm betting the wheels have fallen off the wagon a long, irreparable time ago.