Kid from the north country

California schizo rockers impress and frustrate

Concrete Dunes\nGrandaddy\nLakeshore Records\nPeople flock to California, whether in 1849 or in the '60s, in search of a dream and to burst the regimented daily life of the perceived established towns to the east. \nDestroyed miners, failed actors and musicians, Okies on relief, would find their ideas highly unoriginal. Forced to fall from the city lights, they collected in tiny concrete villages in the middle of the desert and near the railroad line. Quietly, they would eventually turn these landing pads into towns. \nModesto, Calif. is one of these towns, hometown of George Lucas and Grandaddy. Where Lucas escaped the town's doldrums through remarkable fantasy, the members of Grandaddy (in particular, figurehead Jason Lytle) escaped through skateboarding and music. Lytle was too sensitive for the punk rock that is associated with the skateboarding aesthetic though, he was more attracted to the quirkier and mellower sides of Neil Young. \nGrandaddy draws an awful lot from Neil Young, and although in recent years they have transcended his influence, Concrete Dunes shows the heart of his impact. Concrete Dunes is a repackaging of the band's earliest recordings that were previously scattered, hard to find, unavailable, etc. It is the sound of modern Modesto and any of the hundreds of towns like it, the sound of sons and daughters of compromised dreams in a town with nothing to do. \nGrandaddy doesn't sound lazy though, they sound like they're wondering what to do next. Concrete Dunes showcases a confused band at times too, unable to decide between the noisy indie rock their friends would like and the lo-fi ballads and electronic excursions that they\'ve become known for. Here you can hear the two battling it out with mixed results from both ends.\nFull of displaced energy and their surroundings, little stories of their townsfolk are unfolded from snippets of lyrics. "Daddy doctor's son punk rocker shouts/'Dad the A.C.'s broke in our hardcore/Punk rock vacation, vacation rehearsal house'/'We'll get right on, that, I'm sure it's just the thermostat/I'll buy your band a few twelve packs/But your mother wants her bracelets back.'" Contrary to what you've heard, there are uninteresting people in this world, and it doesn't matter if you're in Modesto, Calif. or Bloomington, Ind.\n

California schizo rockers impress and frustrate

Concrete Dunes\nGrandaddy\nLakeshore Records\nPeople flock to California, whether in 1849 or in the '60s, in search of a dream and to burst the regimented daily life of the perceived established towns to the east. \nDestroyed miners, failed actors and musicians, Okies on relief, would find their ideas highly unoriginal. Forced to fall from the city lights, they collected in tiny concrete villages in the middle of the desert and near the railroad line. Quietly, they would eventually turn these landing pads into towns. \nModesto, Calif. is one of these towns, hometown of George Lucas and Grandaddy. Where Lucas escaped the town's doldrums through remarkable fantasy, the members of Grandaddy (in particular, figurehead Jason Lytle) escaped through skateboarding and music. Lytle was too sensitive for the punk rock that is associated with the skateboarding aesthetic though, he was more attracted to the quirkier and mellower sides of Neil Young. \nGrandaddy draws an awful lot from Neil Young, and although in recent years they have transcended his influence, Concrete Dunes shows the heart of his impact. Concrete Dunes is a repackaging of the band's earliest recordings that were previously scattered, hard to find, unavailable, etc. It is the sound of modern Modesto and any of the hundreds of towns like it, the sound of sons and daughters of compromised dreams in a town with nothing to do. \nGrandaddy doesn't sound lazy though, they sound like they're wondering what to do next. Concrete Dunes showcases a confused band at times too, unable to decide between the noisy indie rock their friends would like and the lo-fi ballads and electronic excursions that they\'ve become known for. Here you can hear the two battling it out with mixed results from both ends.\nFull of displaced energy and their surroundings, little stories of their townsfolk are unfolded from snippets of lyrics. "Daddy doctor's son punk rocker shouts/'Dad the A.C.'s broke in our hardcore/Punk rock vacation, vacation rehearsal house'/'We'll get right on, that, I'm sure it's just the thermostat/I'll buy your band a few twelve packs/But your mother wants her bracelets back.'" Contrary to what you've heard, there are uninteresting people in this world, and it doesn't matter if you're in Modesto, Calif. or Bloomington, Ind.\n

Local band's new release textbook

Home\nBlue Moon Revue\nBlue Moon Revue Records\nLocal soul-slingers Blue Moon Revue have released their first album and called it Home. Blue Moon Revue is more like a wedding band than anything else. The group is full of capable musicians whose originals go absolutely nowhere. The exception is keyboardist Andrew Scalercio who really contributes some interesting elements to the album \nBMR play together exceptionally well as a group. They reproduce spot on covers at their shows, and it's obvious that they rehearse often. They've carried this over to the studio, where they've created a clean record with immaculate production value. Because of this though, Home ends up sounding more like an R. Kelly record than the muddy soul and blues they are obviously influenced by. \nWithin the confines of this record, BMR don't seem to be aiming for anything but textbook structure in their songwriting. The sound is reminiscent of Luther Vandross crossed with a bluegrass group, but considerably heavier on the Vandross side. They even go so far as to completely rip off Otis Redding's "Hard to Handle" right down to the brass scores on their own "Time." Unfortunately Matt Marshall's painfully restrained vocals don't have anywhere near the conviction of Redding, or for that matter Chris Robinson's on the Black Crowes' version. \nThe other problem with BMR is their ham-fisted approach to lyric writing. Lines like, "Well Indiana weather it seemed like such a bore/there's gotta be so much more" (from "Montana") and many others come devoid of any wit or sarcasm. Well it's not fair to expect "Moby Dick" from them, but the lyrics sound like the work of sheltered college students.\nOverall, there is nothing really terrible about Home, conversely, there is also nothing very good about it either. There is nothing on this album that will offend the listener outright and not a track on the disc is challenging to listen to. But the near-robotic vocals and the verbose bass lines will wear down the listener to the point that BMR is not too bad for background music.\n

Merritt's latest is disappointing

Eban & Charley\nStephin Merritt\nMerge Records\nStephin Merritt always seemed suited for another life. He holds more in common with Jonathan Larson or Burt Bacharach than with his indie-rock contemporaries. While it has been Merritt's gift for melody and penchant for themes that has thrust him into this paradox, it has been his dourness and quirkiness that has kept him from being a household name.\nMerritt takes the next step towards the Brill Building on his first solo album, Eban & Charley, creating the score to the film by James Burton. This is an obscure movie first screened at the San Francisco Lesbian and Gay Film Festival in 2000. \nNot having seen the movie will make this album very strange to listen to. Ten of the 16 tracks are ambient instrumentals, most of them sounding like a cross between tribal African music and outtakes from Brian Wilson's Smile sessions. There are also surreal distortions of the familiar Christmas tunes "O Tannenbaum" and "Greensleeves." Whether or not these work for the film can be decided later, but for now they make for baffling and uninteresting listening.\nThen there are six songs presented almost as half thoughts, gone before the listener even had a chance. The songs sweep through beautiful visions in the up-tempo "Poppyland," to the gloomy wordplay of "Water Torture" without showing any reason for the mood swing. All six songs are generally likeable, low-key efforts but none of them effectively convey any sort of emotion. \nIt is quite possible that Stephin Merritt has created a brilliant soundtrack for a brilliant movie. It could also be possible that after seeing the movie that this soundtrack will take on a different significance. But as an album, the rewarding moments are few and far between, and the ambient textures are about the same as a leaky faucet and air in the pipes, which you can hear for free. \n

Kid from the north country

A 'great divide' between this and Nelson's best work

The Great Divide\nWillie Nelson\nLost highway\nIn the Willie Nelson tradition, The Great Divide is an album filled to the brim with duets with famous stars. The marketing move is probably more than a little bit influenced by Carlos Santana's placid and gigantic-selling Supernatural (see the two songs written by and performed with Matchbox 20's Rob Thomas), but this is well-worn territory for the 68-year-old singer-songwriter. \nKid Rock appears on "Last Stand In Open Country" sounding more like a cross between Axl Rose and John Mellancamp than the rebel yeller we've come to know. His voice is awkward, it ruins a fine number and it taints Nelson's best vocal on the album. Then there are songs like "Medocino County Line" (with Lee Ann Womack) and "Don't Fade Away" (with Brian McKnight), that are exactly the type of overly-lush Nashville productions that Nelson fought against in the early part of his career. These schmaltzy sentiments are the hallmarks of Nelson's guests and are found here in full, nauseating force. \nThere really is no artistic reason why Nelson should get Rob Thomas to write road-weary tunes for him, even though Nelson is the king of dejected road warriors. Thomas writes like a man who has never tasted failure or rejection, and Nelson doesn't sound convincing when he sings Thomas' lyrics. \nThe one great moment on The Great Divide is the Nelson-penned title track. It is recorded like a live jazz record where the sound is so sparse that you can almost picture the dimensions of the room it was recorded in and where everyone was standing. The hollow drum rolls and the whining fiddle riffs add faith to Nelson's gloomy, Spanish guitar playing and his agoraphobic tale of lost love.\nFor too long, Nelson has been pandering to the lowest common denominator of his fan base. His best records, and not coincidentally, his best-selling records were brutally honest confessions about the duality of the country outlaw spirit. Like Rod Stewart and Buddy Guy, Willie Nelson became a showman a long time ago, and we are left with shattered hopes of what they could have been.\n

Sound Advice

Greg Kot is one of the today's leading critics covering rock and roll. He's has been the pop music critic at the Chicago Tribune since 1990. Together with his counterpart from the Chicago Sun-Times, Jim DeRogatis, he has created "the world's only rock 'n' roll talk show," "Sound Opinions" on Chicago's WXRT-FM. Like Siskel and Ebert, the two argue playfully about the musical issues of the day and of the past with eloquent passion for the art they have turned over their lives to.\nGreg Kot sat down with the IDS Weekend last Friday to discuss his craft, some of the issues in today's music, as well as the role of the critic in this money-driven, pop music world.\nQ: What sorts of bands or writers made you first want to write about rock and roll?\nA: I think it really started with the writers, reading other writers got me excited about rock and roll and writing, the two things I love best in life. I think reading Greil Marcus' book "Mystery Train" was a real eye opener to me, in terms of what could be said in a piece of rock criticism and how writing about rock could be a springboard to writing about just about anything you wanted. You could bring literature and film, theater and performance art and even your own life experience into that review and make it something sort of beyond a review about a piece of music, but the music itself was the inspiration for the writing. That's what I really like, I like the fact that the music could inspire that sort of writing. \nQ: It seems that the only way to find out about good music these days is by reading the critics; is that the way it's always been?\nA: To me it has. If anything, it's gotten worse. It's gotten narrower and narrower in terms of the way people find out about music. The written word, unfortunately, doesn't have the same pull as MTV or a radio station does, but if someone is really serious about music, I find that they read a lot about music and that's how they find out about stuff. Before I became a rock critic, 75 percent of my record collection was based on what somebody wrote before I had even heard a note of that music, and I've got a pretty good record collection thanks to a bunch of critics.\nQ: In what ways do you think critics influence the recording industry?\nA: Boy, I would say zero. Occasionally, if there is a mass critical consensus on an artist you can see the ripples and the big machine takes over and pulls that to the next level. \nQ: What kind of influence do they have on artists?\nA: Bob Mould was in Chicago on a three-night stand and I reviewed the first show, which was a pretty favorable review. But I had a few problems with it, and I wrote this in the review. I saw him about two months later and he was talking to a bunch of other critics who I think were asking him the same question, and he said, "One time this critic in Chicago wrote this and I was really mad, but then I realized that he was right and I changed my show." He turned around and I was sitting right there and he said, "That was you in fact." It was a validation moment. Stephen Stills of all people, once called me and said, "You wrote that we were all out of sorts and we looked distracted and shouldn't have been on stage. We were all really mad about that, but I got to tell you man we were distracted and we shouldn't have been on stage." So once in a while it will come back to you. These guys read your stuff, but a vast majority of the time though the artists just dismiss them. They just go, "Oh, that fucker he's just jealous," that kind of thing. \n Q: You've wrote a lot about Wilco recently. What makes them such an important band?\nA: I heard some people call them the American Radiohead, and I don't think that's too far off base. I think they're a band, no matter how many records they sell, that other bands have to pay attention to them because they are, artistically, setting the bar as high as anyone right now. They are one of the most important bands of our time because: a) They are a real band with real roots, and b) Because they're never satisfied, they keep pushing themselves. I'd have to say, every album they've made is better than the previous record. I can't tell you how few bands I can say that about. That is almost unheard of. Bands make one or two great records in their lifetime and then the rest of the time they're chasing their tail trying to figure out how to do that again or if they are successful they try to do the same thing again. They'd be an amazing band in any era. \nQ: Can a white critic in his 50s or 60s really relate to hip-hop?\nA: Hip-hop was a huge dividing line for a lot of critics. A lot of critics didn't get it, they said so and they should have stopped writing then. Techno or electronic music becomes the next big wave of the '90s, and a lot of them didn't get that. Like, "What's a -- I'll never be caught dead at a rave!" The big thing is not your age but your level of curiosity or interest. I'm a big believer in that you don't have to be of the culture, you don't have to be a fan. The whole reason for my existence is to not be a part of something you're writing about but to stand outside of it and process it and make sense of it and bring that information to other people who are not of that environment or of that culture and make them understand it. \nQ: Jim DeRogatis once asked Lester Bangs, "What makes your opinion better than any other person off the street?" \nA: I think a critic's opinion is overrated. I think opinions are overrated, everyone's got one. My big thing is I want to be useful to my readers. If my opinion is all I rely on, then I'm a pretty lousy critic. I think the most important thing a critic can do is to explain the music to the people he's writing for. Explain it in a way that will let the person make up their own mind as to whether or not they'd like that music or not. Not too many critics write about how the music sounds. You don't get a real sense of the music from a lot of criticism because it's all about this guy's opinion. No matter how many times I say, "Dave Matthews sucks," 4 million fans are going to say, "no, you suck!" I'm not really convincing anyone with that, maybe I'm just making myself feel better, but that's a pretty piss-poor reason to be writing. This whole opinion thing is just an argument, that's all it is and nothing more.

Sound Advice

Greg Kot is one of the today's leading critics covering rock and roll. He's has been the pop music critic at the Chicago Tribune since 1990. Together with his counterpart from the Chicago Sun-Times, Jim DeRogatis, he has created "the world's only rock 'n' roll talk show," "Sound Opinions" on Chicago's WXRT-FM. Like Siskel and Ebert, the two argue playfully about the musical issues of the day and of the past with eloquent passion for the art they have turned over their lives to.\nGreg Kot sat down with the IDS Weekend last Friday to discuss his craft, some of the issues in today's music, as well as the role of the critic in this money-driven, pop music world.\nQ: What sorts of bands or writers made you first want to write about rock and roll?\nA: I think it really started with the writers, reading other writers got me excited about rock and roll and writing, the two things I love best in life. I think reading Greil Marcus' book "Mystery Train" was a real eye opener to me, in terms of what could be said in a piece of rock criticism and how writing about rock could be a springboard to writing about just about anything you wanted. You could bring literature and film, theater and performance art and even your own life experience into that review and make it something sort of beyond a review about a piece of music, but the music itself was the inspiration for the writing. That's what I really like, I like the fact that the music could inspire that sort of writing. \nQ: It seems that the only way to find out about good music these days is by reading the critics; is that the way it's always been?\nA: To me it has. If anything, it's gotten worse. It's gotten narrower and narrower in terms of the way people find out about music. The written word, unfortunately, doesn't have the same pull as MTV or a radio station does, but if someone is really serious about music, I find that they read a lot about music and that's how they find out about stuff. Before I became a rock critic, 75 percent of my record collection was based on what somebody wrote before I had even heard a note of that music, and I've got a pretty good record collection thanks to a bunch of critics.\nQ: In what ways do you think critics influence the recording industry?\nA: Boy, I would say zero. Occasionally, if there is a mass critical consensus on an artist you can see the ripples and the big machine takes over and pulls that to the next level. \nQ: What kind of influence do they have on artists?\nA: Bob Mould was in Chicago on a three-night stand and I reviewed the first show, which was a pretty favorable review. But I had a few problems with it, and I wrote this in the review. I saw him about two months later and he was talking to a bunch of other critics who I think were asking him the same question, and he said, "One time this critic in Chicago wrote this and I was really mad, but then I realized that he was right and I changed my show." He turned around and I was sitting right there and he said, "That was you in fact." It was a validation moment. Stephen Stills of all people, once called me and said, "You wrote that we were all out of sorts and we looked distracted and shouldn't have been on stage. We were all really mad about that, but I got to tell you man we were distracted and we shouldn't have been on stage." So once in a while it will come back to you. These guys read your stuff, but a vast majority of the time though the artists just dismiss them. They just go, "Oh, that fucker he's just jealous," that kind of thing. \n Q: You've wrote a lot about Wilco recently. What makes them such an important band?\nA: I heard some people call them the American Radiohead, and I don't think that's too far off base. I think they're a band, no matter how many records they sell, that other bands have to pay attention to them because they are, artistically, setting the bar as high as anyone right now. They are one of the most important bands of our time because: a) They are a real band with real roots, and b) Because they're never satisfied, they keep pushing themselves. I'd have to say, every album they've made is better than the previous record. I can't tell you how few bands I can say that about. That is almost unheard of. Bands make one or two great records in their lifetime and then the rest of the time they're chasing their tail trying to figure out how to do that again or if they are successful they try to do the same thing again. They'd be an amazing band in any era. \nQ: Can a white critic in his 50s or 60s really relate to hip-hop?\nA: Hip-hop was a huge dividing line for a lot of critics. A lot of critics didn't get it, they said so and they should have stopped writing then. Techno or electronic music becomes the next big wave of the '90s, and a lot of them didn't get that. Like, "What's a -- I'll never be caught dead at a rave!" The big thing is not your age but your level of curiosity or interest. I'm a big believer in that you don't have to be of the culture, you don't have to be a fan. The whole reason for my existence is to not be a part of something you're writing about but to stand outside of it and process it and make sense of it and bring that information to other people who are not of that environment or of that culture and make them understand it. \nQ: Jim DeRogatis once asked Lester Bangs, "What makes your opinion better than any other person off the street?" \nA: I think a critic's opinion is overrated. I think opinions are overrated, everyone's got one. My big thing is I want to be useful to my readers. If my opinion is all I rely on, then I'm a pretty lousy critic. I think the most important thing a critic can do is to explain the music to the people he's writing for. Explain it in a way that will let the person make up their own mind as to whether or not they'd like that music or not. Not too many critics write about how the music sounds. You don't get a real sense of the music from a lot of criticism because it's all about this guy's opinion. No matter how many times I say, "Dave Matthews sucks," 4 million fans are going to say, "no, you suck!" I'm not really convincing anyone with that, maybe I'm just making myself feel better, but that's a pretty piss-poor reason to be writing. This whole opinion thing is just an argument, that's all it is and nothing more.

Artistic progression shown on 'GHV2'

GHV2\nMadonna\nMaverick/Warner Bros.\nMadonna's GHV2 or Greatest Hits Volume 2, speaks for itself. After summing up her '80s career so well with The Immaculate Collection in 1990, a decade later GHV2 sums up the her career in '90s just as accurately. Whereas The Immaculate Collection is a bit of a shallow ride through '80s pop music at its best, GHV2 shows the remarkable growth of Madonna as an artist and a person. \nAfter listening to Revolver, it is very difficult to go back and really enjoy "I Want To Hold Your Hand." The same situation comes up with Madonna. After listening to "Drowned World/Substitute for Love" or "Frozen," can you really go back to "Holiday" for anything more than nostalgia?\nMadonna in the '80s was a particular moment in time, much like early Beatles; their later craft was what defined them as great, timeless artists. We grew with them and no matter how much we would like to get it back, it just can't happen.\nGHV2 comes off a little shaky at first because of its abandonment of a chronological order. Instead, it tries to prevent a feel. Whether or not the mixed order succeeds is really pointless, the disc doesn't seem too shifty at all. Madonna did become a bit of an album artist in the '90s, but often the albums weren't as artistically successful as the singles. \nIt is nice to hear the smart and sensual singles "Deeper and Deeper" and "Erotica" from the ill-conceived Erotica (1992) album without the rest of that disc weighing them down. The guilty pleasure\n"Don't Cry for Me Argentina," makes an appearance without the rest of the Evita album with it, which is good.\nThe second half of the disc is mostly taken up by tracks from Ray of Light and Music, her last two albums, and probably her two best. They complete one of the most satisfying collections of the year. GHV2 is really a tremendous introduction to one of the world's savviest and most intelligent artists, and if you're happy with it, there is more where that came from.\n

Rockin' for the benjamins rather than the music

New Old Songs\nLimp Bizkit\nInterscope\nIn a way, New Old Songs by Limp Bizkit is the most predictable album of the holiday season. Don't be fooled by Bizkit's rebel pose, they are a processed product in the same way as the Backstreet Boys, N'Sync and Britney Spears. New Old Songs is exactly the type of album you'd expect for the holiday season market. \nWhile it was too early for a Limp Bizkit Greatest Hits package, they chose the next best thing -- an album of remixes of the old favorites. It's all here, including five different versions of "My Way." Are you excited yet?\nBizkit trotted out the best known in the business to sell this album. \nMadonna crony William Orbit, former Nirvana and Garbage producer ButchVig, Puff Daddy, Timbaland, Everlast and Xzibit all appear in guest spots as remixers or featured artists.\nUnfortunately, the remixes shed no new light on the testosterone-fueled rockers. \nIt is also interesting that almost all of the guest remixers chose to drop the group's music, leaving Fred Durst's vocals as the only reminder that this is a Bizkit product.\nThere are a few tracks like the Neptunes' remix of "N 2Gether Now - All in Together Now" and Butch Vig's remix of "Nookie," that turn out to be good, butt-shaking, dance numbers. \nToo often though, the remixes are sound textures strikingly similar to Kraftwerk and the Beastie Boys, using their much belabored drum-box beats and techno pops and buzzes.\nIf there is one bright spot to New Old Songs, it is that it may alienate their fan base enough so we can get these guys off of the radio and television. That probably won't happen and this record will probably be in the top five its first week out. This is market opportunism at its best, because Bizkit is all about the Benjamins and doing it for the nookie, but what happened to doing it for the sake of the song? \n

Pop folklore single style

here are only about 100 people in the world who understand our music." \nJohn Lennon made this comment in 1967 at the artistic height of the Beatles when anyone and everyone were hypothesizing what their songs meant. Belle and Sebastian have followed in this grand tradition, becoming more famous for their enigmatic personalities than their music. \nTheir stories have become pop folklore: refusing to release pictures of themselves, scarce live shows, often sending their friends to do interviews for them posing as members of the band, etc. What no one seems to be noticing or talking about is the intrinsic wackiness of the music itself. \nBelle and Sebastian are really a delightful post-modern joke.\nListening to Belle and Sebastian albums, it's hard to ignore the obvious choices made in the melodies and chord changes. The music is often a direct ripoff of the classic pop sound. \nThe lyrics are amusing mutations of the common themes of classic pop music. The songs read like Dali paintings, yet deflect serious study with their innocent tone. But a closer glance reveals a shrewd sensibility. \nThe newly released I'm Waking Up To Us, is classic Belle and Sebastian, songs about loving their cars, and their pets, and their Beach Boys ("I could even find it in my head/ to love Mike Love"). \nReleased in early June this year, "Sing… Jonathan David" is a much different effort. It is refreshing for its startling sincerity. The songs are a play on the story of David and his life after he kills Goliath and becomes King. David's relationship with his best friend Jonathan has suffered because of his good fortune -- David "gets all the chicks" now. \nThe songs are some of the most inspired, original melodies by Belle and Sebastian. The lyrics are sober reflections, probably about the departure of the band's iconoclast, Stuart David.\nBelle and Sebastian's creator and songwriter Stuart Murdoch started the band as a project for his music business class. His manipulation and understanding of pop culture have proved that he is a pretty good businessman.

Pop folklore single style

here are only about 100 people in the world who understand our music." \nJohn Lennon made this comment in 1967 at the artistic height of the Beatles when anyone and everyone were hypothesizing what their songs meant. Belle and Sebastian have followed in this grand tradition, becoming more famous for their enigmatic personalities than their music. \nTheir stories have become pop folklore: refusing to release pictures of themselves, scarce live shows, often sending their friends to do interviews for them posing as members of the band, etc. What no one seems to be noticing or talking about is the intrinsic wackiness of the music itself. \nBelle and Sebastian are really a delightful post-modern joke.\nListening to Belle and Sebastian albums, it's hard to ignore the obvious choices made in the melodies and chord changes. The music is often a direct ripoff of the classic pop sound. \nThe lyrics are amusing mutations of the common themes of classic pop music. The songs read like Dali paintings, yet deflect serious study with their innocent tone. But a closer glance reveals a shrewd sensibility. \nThe newly released I'm Waking Up To Us, is classic Belle and Sebastian, songs about loving their cars, and their pets, and their Beach Boys ("I could even find it in my head/ to love Mike Love"). \nReleased in early June this year, "Sing… Jonathan David" is a much different effort. It is refreshing for its startling sincerity. The songs are a play on the story of David and his life after he kills Goliath and becomes King. David's relationship with his best friend Jonathan has suffered because of his good fortune -- David "gets all the chicks" now. \nThe songs are some of the most inspired, original melodies by Belle and Sebastian. The lyrics are sober reflections, probably about the departure of the band's iconoclast, Stuart David.\nBelle and Sebastian's creator and songwriter Stuart Murdoch started the band as a project for his music business class. His manipulation and understanding of pop culture have proved that he is a pretty good businessman.

'The quiet Beatle' loses battle with cancer at 58

Former Beatles guitarist George Harrison died in Los Angeles Thursday at the age of 58. He died with his wife, Olivia, and his son, Dhani, at his side.\nHe suffered from lung and throat cancer. He was also nearly murdered in 1999 by a fan, contributing to the decline of his health.\nA Harrison family statement released Friday said "He left this world as he lived in it, conscious of God, fearless of death and at peace, surrounded by family and friends. He often said, 'Everything else can wait, but the search for God cannot wait,' and, 'Love one another.'"\nFans gathered around the world to grieve and share memories of Harrison: Strawberry Fields in New York, Abbey Road Studios in London and the Harrison mansion outside London. The Harrison family has already held a private ceremony and there are no plans for a public funeral.\nGlenn Gass, professor of IU's Music of the Beatles class, said of Harrison, "He was a Beatle. That's all you really have to say. Everything they did was a group effort. I've heard a lot of things the past few days about how he was the soul of the group, and I think that was really true. He had a presence. He was the perfect balance from John and Paul."\nHarrison was born into a working-class family in Liverpool on Feb. 25, 1943, the fourth and last child of Harold and Louise French Harrison. At age 15, at the invitation of Paul McCartney, he began sitting in with a local skiffle group called the Quarrymen, whose founder was an 18-year old named John Lennon. By the age of 16, he was a full-fledged member of the gang.\nIn three more years, Harrison and the other Quarrymen, by then including Ringo Starr and renamed the Beatles, would find themselves in the beginnings of Beatlemania in their hometown of Liverpool and in Hamburg, Germany. In just two years, they would be on the front page of every newspaper and magazine and would be known throughout the world.\nThe Beatles' legacy is infamous. Even in the year 2000, the greatest hits collection, Beatles 1 spent weeks in the upper reaches of the Billboard album charts.\nWith the Beatles, Harrison provided the delicate touches that drove rock music from its infancy into the perception of the art world. He was the first to popularize use of the sitar in pop music, playing it on the 1965 Beatles song "Norwegian Wood." He also used the 12-string Rickenbacker guitar (his was the second one ever made) on the 1964 Beatles album A Hard Day's Night, inspiring Roger McGuinn to give up folk music and start a group who became synonymous with the instrument -- The Byrds.\nAlthough competing against what many have described as the greatest songwriting team of the 20th century in his bandmates McCartney and Lennon, Harrison began to write material that could stand side by side with them on Beatles albums. Beginning with "Don't Bother Me" from 1963's With the Beatles, he rapidly improved his craft and wrote such Beatles classics as "Taxman," "Within You Without You," "The Inner Light," "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," "Old Brown Shoe" and "Here Comes The Sun." In 1969, he wrote the song "Something," which became his first No. 1 hit. Frank Sinatra once called the song "the most beautiful love song of the last quarter century."\nLife after the Beatles started off well for Harrison. In 1970, he released his solo masterpiece, All Things Must Pass, a sprawling triple-album of songs the Beatles had rejected. In 1971, he staged the first all-star concert benefit, The Concert for Bangladesh. He gathered friends including Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, Starr and Ravi Shankar and raised millions of dollars for the famine-ravaged nation.\nAfter coming out swinging, he began to live a sparse public life. He started his own record label and movie production company in the 1970s, but mostly remained a reclusive figure. Harrison wrote in his 1979 autobiography "I Me Mine," "I'm really quite simple, I don't want to be in the business full time because I'm a gardener -- I plant flowers and watch them grow. I stay at home and watch the river flow."\nHarrison was a long time follower of the Hindu religion since his first initiations into it while with the Beatles in the 1960s. \n"For every human, there is a quest to find the answer to 'Why am I here,' 'Who am I,' 'Where did I come from,' 'Where am I going,'" Harrison said in 1997, "For me, that became the most important thing in my life. Everything else is secondary"

McCartney returns with original rock

Driving Rain is Paul McCartney's first album of all original rock and roll songs since 1997's minor triumph, Flaming Pie. Since then he has lost his first wife to breast cancer, remarried and also completed full-blown classical music projects. \nWithin his new album, McCartney delves into the immense turbulence in his life with the usual sincerity and tenderness we've come to expect from him. Run Devil Run of 1999 was a miracle of a record for its naked display of his life. The album was comprised mostly of oldies covers, but it showed the desperation for a return to the good old days, if not just to look back and to remember, but also to cheer himself up. Now he feels the need to express these emotions "in his own write."\nOne should have no doubts of McCartney's dexterous lyrical abilities. (If you do, refer to "Eleanor Rigby" or "She's Leaving Home.") He doesn't write with vomit-inducing backflips like Dylan, but he has always been a fine storyteller. By the way, he can write some powerful melodies, too. \nOne can cringe easily at a line, such as "12345 Let's go for a drive," from "Driving Rain," but McCartney gets the job done with a Hemingway-like conciseness on the album. He allows the melodies, his classically emphatic vocals and the raw emotion of rock and roll to get the point across. \nThe sound of the album is a nice combination of the rock of Run Devil Run and the true musical abilities McCartney possesses. The real success comes from not going too far in either direction. The gorgeous guilt-stricken ballad "From A Lover To A Friend" is perfectly offset by the 10-minute, harsh rock and jam of the closing song "Rinse The Raindrops." \nDriving Rain can be a little bit confusing at first because of its wide range of emotions. Swinging from the lows of his first wife's death, to the guilt of finding new love, to the thrill of the new love, to soft nostalgia -- it's a deep ride. Those for the anathema for the solo Paul McCartney need not attempt this album, because it rewards close attention and the realization of his character. \nRating: 8

McCartney returns with original rock

Driving Rain is Paul McCartney's first album of all original rock and roll songs since 1997's minor triumph, Flaming Pie. Since then he has lost his first wife to breast cancer, remarried and also completed full-blown classical music projects. \nWithin his new album, McCartney delves into the immense turbulence in his life with the usual sincerity and tenderness we've come to expect from him. Run Devil Run of 1999 was a miracle of a record for its naked display of his life. The album was comprised mostly of oldies covers, but it showed the desperation for a return to the good old days, if not just to look back and to remember, but also to cheer himself up. Now he feels the need to express these emotions "in his own write."\nOne should have no doubts of McCartney's dexterous lyrical abilities. (If you do, refer to "Eleanor Rigby" or "She's Leaving Home.") He doesn't write with vomit-inducing backflips like Dylan, but he has always been a fine storyteller. By the way, he can write some powerful melodies, too. \nOne can cringe easily at a line, such as "12345 Let's go for a drive," from "Driving Rain," but McCartney gets the job done with a Hemingway-like conciseness on the album. He allows the melodies, his classically emphatic vocals and the raw emotion of rock and roll to get the point across. \nThe sound of the album is a nice combination of the rock of Run Devil Run and the true musical abilities McCartney possesses. The real success comes from not going too far in either direction. The gorgeous guilt-stricken ballad "From A Lover To A Friend" is perfectly offset by the 10-minute, harsh rock and jam of the closing song "Rinse The Raindrops." \nDriving Rain can be a little bit confusing at first because of its wide range of emotions. Swinging from the lows of his first wife's death, to the guilt of finding new love, to the thrill of the new love, to soft nostalgia -- it's a deep ride. Those for the anathema for the solo Paul McCartney need not attempt this album, because it rewards close attention and the realization of his character. \nRating: 8

Singer/songwriter not taking risks

Former bandmates Jay Farrar and Jeff Tweedy have proved to be two of the most volatile personalities in popular music these days. First, they couldn't get along together in Uncle Tupelo, forcing that band's breakup. Now, almost every original band member has left Tweedy's new group Wilco. Jay Farrar's Son Volt is on hiatus now, and he refuses to give a definite answer about the future of that group. \nFarrar, on his first tour as a solo act, marched into the Bluebird Tuesday night in support of his first solo album "Sebastopol." The album, which came out in late September, shows a growth in Farrar's instrumental approach. That growth reflects the growing brilliance of his former bandmate Tweedy. But where Tweedy is leading Wilco out of the alternative-country music that defined Uncle Tupelo and into a progressive pop format, Farrar is still reveling in the dried up "No Depression" movement. \nFarrar's opening act was Anders Parker from Varnaline. Parker played a 45-minute set that would have been more enjoyable had he passed out pillows and blankets beforehand. \nHe tried to attain the laziness of Neil Young in lulling the crowd by strumming his acoustic guitar and singing introspective lyrics. But his music neither showed conviction nor held interest like anything of Young's could. While he tried a feedback freakout near the middle of his set, it was only rousing because of its volume. It sounded like Parker was trying to make a song out of Lou Reed's Metal Machine Music -- which Reed himself has proved is quite pointless. \nFor an hour and a half, Farrar performed a set mostly of his new solo material. He slipped in a few Uncle Tupelo and Son Volt tunes to keep the small crowd at the Bluebird happy. Farrar didn't say much, mumbling a few times into the microphone in case he was playing a song that he thought the crowd wouldn't know. He was playing the disturbed artist bit he has become associated with as well as he could. \nFarrar brought multi-instrumentalist Mark Spencer to accompany him. Spencer displayed a remarkable talent on keyboards and guitar, but he really showed himself as a considerable talent with his tremendous lap-steel work.\nFarrar seemed to lack the intimacy to give such a sparse performance. His voice is a powerful instrument, but it is abrasive and unwavering and also lacks the clarity needed in a solo performance. \nHis songs are filled with post-Apocalyptic visions and musings on the Old West. As he sang on "Barstow," "they'll be digging through our landfills, to find evidence of our great demise." This is a subject that seems to be popular these days within the alternative country songwriter movement. Although the preoccupation with the decline of the Old West and modernization has actually been popular since Bob Dylan introduced beat poetry and writing to rock and roll.\nBut Dylan didn't dwell on modernization and it's possible that he never treated it with anathema the way Farrar does. This is an interesting deterrent to Farrar's progress -- is it possible to be stuck in the past and progress at the same time? His former bandmate Jeff Tweedy didn't think so. After re-evaluating Wilco's position, he decided that they should progress into high-end pop music. Wilco took off after this, releasing three albums in a row ("Being There," "Summer Teeth" and "Yankee Foxtrot Hotel") that grew in denseness, complexity and brilliance.\nWhile it's really not fair to compare Farrar to Tweedy, they do have the same timeline. Farrar's post-Uncle Tupelo work has paled in comparison to Tweedy's. It is also notable that most critics thought Farrar to be the superior talent.\nMaybe Farrar has accepted the limitations of country music, but think of it this way: What if the Beatles had stayed a bar band, or Dylan didn't go electric, or Miles Davis didn't embrace rock? It is the chances that artists take that make them great, and Farrar is not taking any chances.

Gene Clark's obscure imagery

As the first lead singer of The Byrds it was obvious that Gene Clark should be destined for brilliance. His talent was evident not only in the strong vibrato of his singing voice but his prolific songwriting talents. Writing The Byrds' best material from 1965 and 1966, ("I'll Feel A Whole Lot Better," "Set You Free This Time," "Eight Miles High," etc.) other members of the group have said they didn't even want to try to compete with him. Clark quit the group in 1966 because of a fear of flying, ironically.\nHis lyrics had been almost too abstract and poetic for pop music, but he had held it together with a sense of melody rivaling that of Paul McCartney. Clark's solo material was critically acclaimed for its blend of poetic imagery with high musical distinction. His refusal to tour and promote sealed his fate of obscurity however and he is virtually unknown today.\nGypsy Angel contains the previously unheard music from Clark's later years. On all but one track he is accompanied only by an acoustic guitar. Four of the songs are from the mid-'80s, the other eight from 1990. Unfortunately, Gene Clark died in 1991 from a bleeding ulcer and a drinking problem. \nThe songs from 1990 show Clark at the peak of his lyrical abilities. The stories drip and curl with paradox and fear, made all the more real by the fact he would die only a few months later. \nThe four demos from the mid-'80s, are from a period that his music was at a low point artistically. But the songs "Gypsy Rider" and "Back In My Life Again" contain unique minor key guitar arrangements, although the lyrics reveal a redundancy and a concession pop sensibilities.\nThe songs on Gypsy Angel reveal a lot of Clark's personal condition at the time of the recordings. With the rise in popularity of other nakedly-personal acoustic albums like Skip Spence's Oar and Nick Drake's Time Of No Reply, this album has all the elements to gain a cult following. \nWhatever it is that introduces people to Gene Clark's music doesn't really matter, as long as it is heard.

Gene Clark's obscure imagery

As the first lead singer of The Byrds it was obvious that Gene Clark should be destined for brilliance. His talent was evident not only in the strong vibrato of his singing voice but his prolific songwriting talents. Writing The Byrds' best material from 1965 and 1966, ("I'll Feel A Whole Lot Better," "Set You Free This Time," "Eight Miles High," etc.) other members of the group have said they didn't even want to try to compete with him. Clark quit the group in 1966 because of a fear of flying, ironically.\nHis lyrics had been almost too abstract and poetic for pop music, but he had held it together with a sense of melody rivaling that of Paul McCartney. Clark's solo material was critically acclaimed for its blend of poetic imagery with high musical distinction. His refusal to tour and promote sealed his fate of obscurity however and he is virtually unknown today.\nGypsy Angel contains the previously unheard music from Clark's later years. On all but one track he is accompanied only by an acoustic guitar. Four of the songs are from the mid-'80s, the other eight from 1990. Unfortunately, Gene Clark died in 1991 from a bleeding ulcer and a drinking problem. \nThe songs from 1990 show Clark at the peak of his lyrical abilities. The stories drip and curl with paradox and fear, made all the more real by the fact he would die only a few months later. \nThe four demos from the mid-'80s, are from a period that his music was at a low point artistically. But the songs "Gypsy Rider" and "Back In My Life Again" contain unique minor key guitar arrangements, although the lyrics reveal a redundancy and a concession pop sensibilities.\nThe songs on Gypsy Angel reveal a lot of Clark's personal condition at the time of the recordings. With the rise in popularity of other nakedly-personal acoustic albums like Skip Spence's Oar and Nick Drake's Time Of No Reply, this album has all the elements to gain a cult following. \nWhatever it is that introduces people to Gene Clark's music doesn't really matter, as long as it is heard.

Beachwood Sparks expands from space-cowboy feel

Beachwood Sparks' first album was a brilliant throwback to the days when country-psychedelic fusion was as startlingly new as color television once was. But the album was not a total revisitation; what made it so breathtaking at times was the use of new psychedelic sounds created earlier in the previous decade by the likes of My Bloody Valentine and Paul Oakenfold with the Happy Mondays. This is the same type of sound that Radiohead currently uses to make people call an album of bad songs and underdeveloped melodies a masterpiece. \nOn the band's second album, Once We Were Trees, Beachwood Sparks shows expansion from the ideas on the first release. The space-cowboy approach played to the hilt on the first album is still here. It's just that now that cowboy seems to have awoken from his mescaline trip in the desert and realized there are a lot of other people around him. \nBeachwood Sparks uses psychedelic textures to propel capital material, using this method to create an air of open space. That feeling is needed when turning in a tone poem about the "lonesome crowded west."\nOnce We Were Trees works like a song cycle, each song seems to breeze effortlessly into the next, creating a captivating unison. At the very beginning of the album the musicians announce their change, quickly going from their familiar aimless drone into singer Chris Gunst announcing, "confusion is nothing new." This is followed by a nervous rave sent sailing by a pump organ, chiming guitars and Beach Boy-type harmonies. \nThe stand out song "By Your Side" was originally done by Sade. Here, it is given a country overhaul and comes out sounding surprisingly sincere. \nThroughout Once We Were Trees, Beachwood Sparks searches for the way to deal with the big city and how everything else will fit in around it. From the sound of it the band members aren't dealing with it all that well, but the breakdown is a complete joy to listen to. Beachwood Sparks is well on its way to becoming the most consistently exciting band around.\nRating: 10