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the union ;
In Terminus. GA 1997 / IMFO / BuilsiUer i 7 d * k fi * * I ■* i * -4 g
Tired of the soup du jour? Me too Bui ft.-' ff * , '•***-* '* ' .*< 7-—J f 1
few bands arc able to creak free of the "
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-recording (not prcduct-o’-' < sfateu '
fessionat punk rocker Steve Atom s ecc>- f'^v *
foisting on indie audiences since t: t . .-, v
tohocse a toemg comparison, the P;> ■..
Surfer Rcsa ft hplps that Union vocalist - jm . .• " . ; - - ...■ ■> T
David‘Kucharsky easily navigates the -jj. , v t . ■ 3
■ band'spost-thrashmatte^of-fact-mensty mete- -r-\
v. :h a singing -style that eve 4hH fi
Reed ancfBlack Francis, but that's not the- “ §■;• v /■/£$:- * ' V * |
whole story The Union further surprises |
with a'classic rock tap's enthusiasm for “ ’ t
epic chord changes and a Georgia band's inherited sense of jangling songcraft
There are a few missteps here and there, as when the band flirts with heavypunk anonym
ity The disc's first track. ' I Can Neithei Confirm Nor Deny That sounds tike high-level math
homework, while Bit»Byte-Bit“ sounds like the final exam But for each of those non-starters,
there are two songsv^ith the quality of “Thurman Munson" ( Makes me sad to think pf Thurman
Munson/ In the hall of fame/ Away from me") or Choice is a Matter of Fact/Basketcase
Soundmg like the Archers of Loaf if the guitarists in that band traded their distortion boxes for
Byrds albums. “Basketcase" is the disc's m: ' tuneful song, one that benefits from co-re
corder Dave Barbc-'s sympathetic treatment of the reod-th ; n vocals The lyrics, which upfertu-
nate!y,aren t reprinted in the CD booklet, sound like cut-ups from existential philosophy texts
^and how-to books on chess “You're a basketcase." moans Kucharsky dufing the song s re-
frai^ts’fhultaneously lamenting a bad move ana the possibility cf free will. It's a great moment
on a good album that, despite its studied eclecticism, demonstrates that there's still power
a Union
Shannon Zimmerman
THE WAVE BENDERS
Surfin' Christmas /
Dwell Records / CMH
Yeeks. With Surfin' Christ
mas. the Surf Benders dream
of riding that magicai wave
where reverb and the Yuletide
spirit become as one. Noth
ing here, however, suggests
that such a wave even exists.
Adding the other-worldly
flourishes of the theremin to
the standard guitar/bass/
drums line-up. the Benders
(rather optimistically) tackle a
dozen holiday classics rang
ing from Silent Night" and
"What Chiid Is This” to
"Rudolph." Aside from
goosing the tempos and add
ing the occasional prerequi
site surf-guitar embellish
ments, the band essentially
plays these tunes straight.
Unfortunately, this approach
will satisfy no one, neither the
strait-laced traditionalists
who will find their Christmas
favorites completely devoid
of genuine warmth, nor those
merry insurrectionists who
would like nothing better than
to hear these hoary chestnuts
gleefully deconstructed. In
stead, most of these rendi
tions come across as point
less. annoying or just plain
awful. Yeah, you guessed it:
Surfin' Christmas wipes out.
(Dwell Records, P.O. Box
39439. Los Angeles. CA
90039)
Paul Chastain
CRASH TEST
DUMMIES
A Worm's Life /Arista
Mere music for English
majors from the impossibly
deep-throated Brad Roberts
and his band. The songs are
as literate and as witty as any
you will fina. The problem for
me is. correctly played as the
music is, "it just don't move
me.” Especially with all the
"digital stuff” the percussionist
and keyboard players are wont
to st , No one song stands
out — musically—tc grab your
attention the way songs on ear
lier albums like “Superman’s
Song" or "God Shuffled His
Feet" did. The simpler, more
spare arrangements on tracks
like “My Own Sunrise," featur
ing vocal harmonies of
keyboardist Ellen Reid, and
“Swatting Flies" work much
better than the cluttered, overly
busy — and aptly named —
"Overachievers."
The most valuable part of
the whole package is ihe book
let containing printed song lyr
ics. They work well on the
page, and Roberts, with his off-
center topics and bemused
observations of human social
foibles, comes across as the
songwriting equivalent of car
toonist Gary Larson. Imagining
life as a dog. a worm or an
iguana ought to qualify Brad
Roberts for inclusion in THE
FAR SIDE. “A Worm's Life’ is
rendered from the point of view
of an agave worm destined to
be tossed down with the dregs
of the mescal, in which he's
been lying “in a stupor." “He
Liked to Feel It" features a little
boy fond of pulling his own
teeth. Roberts is no less ca
pable of empathizing with the
inanimate objects we discard,
as in "I'm Outlived by That
Thing?" Lest you get too intimi
dated by the songwriter’s pro
ductivity, "An Old Scab" is a
sobering admission concern
ing the perils of writer's block,
especially if the writer wants to
say something new:
"But each time I try to make
a fresh stab
I end up picking at an old
scab"
Meanwhile, even though 1
find Crash Test Dummies mu
sically unremarkable, and in
fact hate their stupid band
name, I will have to concede
that Brad Roberts is a distinc
tive songwriter whose lyrics
stick around in your head
v im Winders
THE PRESIDENTS OF
THE UNITED STATES
OF AMERICA
II/Columbia
I would never, ever, ever
begrudge anyone who, as far
as their musical diet is con
cerned, just wants to have fun.
Rock and roli as far back as I
car, remember has always had
a group of guys who were a hell
of a lot more concerned with
just plain 'rockin' out" than they
were with making any grand
musical statement Nothing
wrong with that. That's why God
created Grand Funk Railroad.
Then we have the sturm und
drang , angst-addled '90s,
where our radio waves and
record stores are filled with sal
low, depressed, pale-as-a-
sheet would-be rock “stars"
who have nothing better to ao
than bemoan their fame and
money and woman problems
and how “darn-it-nobody-re-
ally-knows-WHO-I-AM. Enter
the Presidents. Trumpeted as
some sort of panacea to all this
widespread moping, the Presi
dents' resident songwriter
Chris Ballew blithely intro
duced us to odd little songs
about bugs, peaches and girls
named "Lump," and slammed
through them on a two-string
bass with a way-too-happy
drummer and a guy who
played a three-string guitar —
charming, right? To further their
indie “cred," Columbia
Records made sure we all
knew that the band was origi
nally on PopLiama Records, an
independent label out of Se
attle that pre-dated Sub Pop by
years, and that the band was
buddies with a truly great Se
attle group, the Young Fresh
Fellows. I beg the question: so
what? I could elaborate end
lessly about how this record
sounds, but you already know,
don't you? On II we basically
have more of the same: songs
about frogs, toob [sic] amplifi
ers, supermodels and tiki
gods, all played by three
wacky guys with “five strings"
and zero inspiration. Towards
the end of the album, Ballew
asks, “How long do you think
this kind of fun can last?," and
I so badly want to tell him. The
cut-out bins await, gentlemen.
Jason Slatton
THE OCEAN BLUE
*See The Ocean Blue"/
Mercury Records
“Between Something And
Nothing," the first single off The
Ocean Blue's astonishing 1989
self-titled debut, is just about
where the band has found
themselves throughout their
seven year career. The other
pride of Hershey, Pa., had per
fected the key ingredients to
Britpop long before its time —
driving, melodic pop backed
by David Scheizel's surreal vo
cals — these American blokes
jumped the gun on the Brits by
several years. But The Ocean
Blue has never quite been able
to tip the scales 1991's Cer
ulean picked-up logically
where their debut left off, but it
never caught on the same way
The Ocean Blue had a few
years earlier. 1993's Beneath
The Rhythm ana Sound finally
spawned the band an MTV-
friendly hit in “Sublime," but the
album was critically ignored
and ended up being the band's
leas", successful record.
Now. after a two and a half
year hiatus und a move from
Sire Records tc Mercury
Records, the band returns witi i
See The Ocean Blue. The first
single. "Whenever You're
Around." is as catchy a tune as
they have ever put out, but the
rest of the alburn just doesn't
move me like I remembered
The Ocean Elue had in the
past. "Slide" takes me back to
the days of Cerulean, v.ith its
floating melodies and pe r -
fectly-positioned slide guitar
(hence the name), but when
Schelzel sings "I don’t think you
know, I don't think you care, i
don't think you wanna, and you
don’t, you don't...." I only won
der if he doesn't At a receni
cak© Tout*
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