Record Reviews
originally published February 23, 2005
M.I.A.
Arular
XL
Refugee for real or performance-art smartypants? Tamil Tiger or Turner Prize shortlister? The jungle or the street? The street or the gallery? Poor or privileged? Rap or pop? Dancefloor hedonism or political screedonism? M.I.A. or Maya Arulpragasam?
Both. Both. Both both both. M.I.A. arrives on these shores backed up by a year of hype (which you might have missed if you don't frequent musicblogs or dancehall DJ sets) and a story already chopped into profile-ready soundbites: Arulpragasam's family fled Sri Lanka to England during the civil war, leaving her freedom-fighter Dad behind. Learned English from Public Enemy records. Turned war-torn upbringing into personal iconography for art shows. Went on tour with Elastica and Peaches as a documentarian, learned to use the Roland MC-505 Groovebox. Named herself M.I.A., made "Galang" and "Sunshowers," both dance smashes across the pond, and became the subject of adoring magazine features with only two singles to her name.
That kind of story can overshadow any artist's music, no matter how good it is. While her fans are calling M.I.A. the future of music, her critics are calling her an inauthentic dilettante in genres she knows nothing about. You can say she's the catchiest political thinker since Joe Strummer, or you can say that the most memorable line from "Sunshowers" - "like PLO we don't surrendo!" - displays, at best, a political naiveté. You can think of "Galang," a propulsive, jackhammering junkshop of a song, all dirty squelches and trashcan beats, its lyrics seemingly cobbled together from other song titles, as "an example of actual, on-the-ground world culture," as Sasha Frere-Jones put it in a New Yorker profile. Or you could call it an art project put together by a St. Martin's grad and one of the pasty Brits from Pulp.
Or you could not give a shit about how real M.I.A. is and just listen to the music. Arular (named after the freedom-fighter dad) is a relentless, groove-fueled journey through M.I.A.'s personal mythology. And if nothing quite matches up to the exhilaration of first hearing "Galang" - the feeling that you're hearing music beamed into the past by our postapocalyptic descendants - nearly every song here will knock you on your ass if you're not careful. On "Hombre," alien voices wail a wordless chorus while M.I.A. taunts a suitor in her distinctive half-rapping, half-singing voice. "10 $" is the standout of the album's new tracks, a devastating club banger propelled by M.I.A.'s chant of "oh oh oh oh hey hey" - and just when you figure out the lyrics well enough to sing along, you realize it's about immigrants turning to prostitution to get by. M.I.A.'s catch phrases are what stick with you: "I got the bombs to make you blow / I got the beats to make you bang" chanted over a churning groove that sounds like a spaceship's engine refusing to turn over on "Pull up the People; "You can be a follower but who's your leader / Break that cycle or it will kill you" on the manifesto "M.I.A." The beats and the slogans worm themselves into your brain until whatever world M.I.A. comes from becomes your world too.
Gardner Linn
LIZ DURRETT
Husk
WARM Electronic Recordings
Liz Durrett's debut album Husk is pretty much everything I ever wanted out of an Azure Ray album. That's not to imply that the Athens musician's songs are derivative; rather, they effectively and efficiently capitalize on the potential of the hushed-female-songwriter-sings-airy-songs genre shackled by the ubiquity of Chan Marshall's Cat Power. And while Azure Ray's albums have moved more into gauzy, synthesized territory, Husk knows its strengths and puts Durrett's voice and guitar up front.
Backed by her uncle and aunt Vic and Tina Chesnutt and Rob Veal (Dashboard Saviors), Durrett wrote and recorded the contents of Husk between 1993 and 1996. The songs show their age, but not because they sound old - they're clearly the work of a talented but young songwriter. The album's nine tracks don't vary much in tone or style, and that's the main weakness here. In her local performances, however, Durrett's shown she's substantially increased her range, which bodes well for her next album of more recent work.
The details in Husk's music elevate it above the level of other similar musicians. The brief "Captive" is a delightfully sparse track that removes the veil from Durrett's vocals, providing only a plinking piano and vinyl hiss as accompaniment, and the backing vocals of Durret's grandmother on "BC" are hauntingly transcendent. That Husk is such a strong debut is promising. That Durrett's had a full decade to improve her work is even more so.
Chris Hassiotis
THE RESIDENTS
Animal Lover
Mute
What does one ever know to expect from a new Residents album, aside from 1) a healthy dose of strangeness and 2) probably some sort of concept? Animal Lover indeed fulfills both these requirements and is undeniably Residential but proves the band remains as surprising as ever, nearly 40 years after the start of its career. Press material informs one that the rhythm tracks are "based entirely on animal noise mating patterns generated primarily by cicadas and frogs," but even without explicit acknowledgment of such, one could feel the purr of something either large or numerous and possibly both under every song.
The opening track, "On the Way to Oklahoma," buzzes all over, from the voice box-like main vocals to the vibraphone (or marimba) that is at first the main instrumentation, to the entrance of the chorus and the changing, marchy tempo. "Mr. Bee's Bumble" intensifies the listener's consciousness of the overlap between thoroughly industrial sounds and those of the insect world, both having a metallic tenor and a Terminator-esque drive to keep going, whether via pistons or propagation. This is the hum that surrounds us constantly, if we listen at all, and that an album of 15 songs can translate the music of the spheres to a terrestrial level is impressive at very least. Animal Lover falls short of the heights reached by the band's 2002 album Demons Dance Alone, but this is not to talk it down, just to say that it's not quite as strong as one of their career highs. That album was about grief and loss. This one is about life. Who knows where we'll go from here?
Hillary Brown
MAGNAPOP
Mouthfeel
Daemon
Yes, it's the first album in nine years, but amazingly Mouthfeel, the new album from Athens/ Atlanta group Magnapop, offers plenty of crunchy, catchy, infectiously charming pop. Really, it's as if the band never left. "We're Faded" opens the album with a humbly defiant statement of being down but not out. But vocalist Linda Hopper and guitarist Ruthie Morris and company are wrong. They haven't faded one bit; in fact, their sunny punch is still as winningly winsome as ever.
Always one of those bands that happily existed under the cultural radar but developed heaps of critical praise and pockets of fanatical fans across the world, Magnapop is definitely back in sight with its best album yet. Originally formed in '87 with Morris and legendary Athens musician Hopper (Oh-OK), the sweetly abrasive pop band is now signed to Indigo Girl Amy Ray's Daemon Records label. After 1996's Rubbing Doesn't Help, the band went on a frustrating journey into label wrangling, relocation and internal combustion that seems to have fueled this collection of pop-punk songs with an added urgency. Songs like "Pilgrims Prayer," "Elliott" and "Satellite" sparkle and grind with a jangling effervescence.
Although this album doesn't have a Michael Stipe or a Bob Mould helming the production as on past releases, the result is the closest recorded approximation to the excitement of the band's incendiary live show. Thankfully, as other bands try to anticipate the taste of a fickle public and adjust their sound to the times, Magnapop stays true to its original vision - because really, there's no reason to update it. On "The In-Between." Hopper sings, "time well spent traveling / time well spent in between." Perhaps Magnapop's time away tempered this masterpiece with a knowing maturity and seemingly effortless mastery of the genre. It's been worth the wait.
Lee Valentine Smith
Magnapop is performing at the 40 Watt Club on Tuesday, March 1.
PARTICLE
Launchpad
Or Music
L.A.'s Particle happily describes its music as "funktronic." That should be reason enough to dismiss the band out of hand, but we won't just yet. The fact is that Particle is actually a quite competent group of guys who play dance music (defined in this instance as a huge jumble of funk, psychedelia, electronic samples, acid rock and ambient-Pink-Floyd-ish stuff). The problem isn't their actual playing - which is so top-notch any one of these guys could probably land a job as an studio musician for forever - the problem is the actual compositions.
The first part of the album starts off with a really cool Kruder And Dorfmeister-type-track ("Launchpad"), then quickly slips into a cop-show-sounding tune (the aptly named "Metropolis"). After that it just disintegrates further, which is disappointing to me, because I really thought the first "song" (all tracks are instrumentals) was really good.
One reason for the album's lack of staying power is that the band tries to squeeze too much juice out of too few ideas. In many respects, Particle is a jam band that just keeps on jamming with the same guitar solos, vintage keyboard wizardry and beats through the entire album. That's going to get boring after a while. The only good home for Launchpad's music would be in a video game. Seriously, there are enough bleeps and bloops present to really back a good artificial adventure, and you can ignore the music enough to lose yourself in other activities. Which is maybe Particle's goal.
Gordon Lamb
Particle is performing at the Georgia Theatre on Saturday, Feb. 26.
L'ALTRA
Different Days
Hefty
Lindsay Anderson and Joseph Costa have made yet another L'Altra album full of ambient goodness. And this time they've managed to pack in more writhing emotion than they have since forming in 1999.
On Different Days, L'Altra has gone easy on the beat sampling to let Anderson's keyboard and Costa's sleepy lyrics speak for themselves.
Songs like "It Follows Me Around" begin with simple harmonies that dive into bounding ethereal soundscapes. From the beginning of the album, it's obvious that the driving force behind Different Days is intense lyrics that reflect the denouement of a failing relationship. The opener, "Sleepless Nights," is a beautiful introduction that proves Anderson's vocals have enough gripping melancholy to put Aimee Mann to shame.
Despite being dubbed purely "electronic," L'Altra has created an album far more dynamic. Different Days has an expansive sound that is both moody and hopeful.
The album's title track shows off the new L'Altra - blending only a few samples against Anderson's simple keyboard and dreamy vocals. However, Different Days hasn't abandoned L'Altra's original style. Costa's and Anderson's signature back-and-forth vocals are in full effect on tracks like "So Surprise," which sounds a bit like the Postal Service on Valium. The only low point is the album's fourth track, an abbreviated version of the previously released "Bring On Happiness." It's still wonderfully bittersweet, but begs for its original length. Finally. the group returns to its electronic roots on the final instrumental track, "A Day Between." Retire the Tom Waits and make room for a new rainy Sunday soundtrack.
Jessica Amason
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Record Reviews
originally published February 16, 2005
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