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THE PRIESTIE BOYS
Patchwork
Polyglot Records
There aren't many vocal toes v/ith musical influ
ences spreading trom the Gulf of Mexico to the
Caribbean and South America around these parts,
but the three Pnestie Boys — Carl Priest and his
sons Keith and Neal — are just that.
Their voices on the CD Patchwork blend in per
fect three-part harmony on tunes ranging from
Bobby Bare s ' 500 Miles From Home" to Holly
Near's "Hay Una Mujer."
a mournful a cappella
wake for several women
who were "disappeared" j
during Chile s military
juntas of the 70s Given
the PfifMie
California become play- MC
ful. sounoing almost like [ '
spaghetti western theme
music I keep expecting to hear a whip crack when I
play them
Their use of percussion, emphasizing the West
Indian folk origins ot Jamaica Farewell" with steel
guys have been singing mar. of these pieces
together since Keith and Neal s childhood <n
Southern California. Neal told me that when he was
a boy. his father sang harmony with Ins sisters
"and not just the usual 1-3-5 stuff either
Carl and Neal moved to Athens trom California
in 86. and Keith came back from a stint in the mili
tary around 1990 According to Neal. Keith had been
enlisted as a paramedic, but when those around him
heard his voice, they requested he join the army
choir, where he was tenor soloist. Neal was a voice
minor at UCSD and "just loved that three-part har-
mony." Both boys were
influenced by their father.
| ^ and lhe three of them
ft , j grew up inventing new
harmonies. Several of
the tunes on their CD.
wr •
■■ .. "aW
boys childhood.
. | The Prresties enlisted.
| fine hefp for their CD as
| we!! From veteran fiddler
Dave Biaekufen
(Normaltown Flyers) to Tony McCutchen ‘UGA
School of Musicto The WarbWs Ma we iitihf-r
and Katie Ford, the boys'' * • • arr ^as-ontd v,:th
tones that effortlessly imply v • ra: t jra:
CHUNKLET14
COMPILATION CD
kittle Army Records
Chunklet, for those of you who
don’t follow the mind-boggling and
petty vicissitudes of indie land, is a ‘zine
produced by sometime-Flagpole writer
Henry Owings. Owings’ range of taste is
actually pretty wide (well, wide for an
obsessive indie-rock zine-publisher),
and apparently he’s kissed enough butt
in the right way to line up some real tal
ent for his little label. The most recent
result is this fine compilation, as good
of a snapshot of the quick-morphing,
highly fractured rock and roll under
ground as you're going to get at this
point in tin»e.
While Chunklei 13s compilation
lined up bands that were similarly
impressive on paper, the bands seemed
to turn in a few songs that were B-side
rejects. Number 14, however, delivers,
offering up ambitious, Sister-iovers-era
is-she-really going-oul-wilh-him pop
(from the Green Pajamas), a smart dose
of late-period Elephant 6 Monkee-hopa-
long (from the Minders), an early New
Order homage (from Pennsylvania's
splendid Low Numbers), and tour or
five experimental audio wallpaper tracks
that will bore all of your friends bul
surely make you feel superior to them.
Owings has bought into the new-
wave renaissance movement pretty
heavily, which is our gain when it comes
to Florida's The Causey Way (try not lik
ing their frat-house Gary Numan tune
’Money") and our loss when it comes to
the band Operation Re-Information, who
make nifty Moog noises that don't really
amount to squat.
Taken as a whole, though, this one
proves that indie isn't quite dead yet. Its
iust more balkanized than ever, and
once again truly underground — more
underground than it was during the
glory days of the SST and Homestead
Records compilations (comps this disc
is on a par wtih). It, after listening, you
disagree, you can always read the ‘zine,
which devotes two pages to a
Hollywood expose of a second-rate
actor entitled ’Bill Pullman- Who Really
Cares?’ (Send $6.95 to PO. Box 2814.
Athens. GA 30612-0814)
Richard Fausset
can make it sound precious and not
pathetic is what makes her special. She
takes the fragile, obsessive aspects of
girl-stuck-on-boydom and presents
them with idiosyncratic charm, humor,
and candor. (P.O. Box 77611,
Washington, DC 20013-7611)
Funke Sangodeyi
GALACTIC
Crazyhorse Mongoose
Capricorn Records
Like all the great New Orleans bar
bands, Galactic has done its homework
on the Meters — that most sublime
(and mostly instrumental) Crescent City
quartet who set the herky-jertc blueprint
for the dtyts inimitable brand of funk.
In naricular, Galactic drummer
Stanton Moore is an unabashed disciple
of original Meter Z : ggy Modeliste: he
has mastered Modeliste'S spare, tricky,
snare 'n' bass flip-flop as well as any
drummer alive, with highly danceable
results. The rest of the band similarly
understands how those early Meters
LPs worked with open spaces — in
fact, they seem to understand it better
than the current incarnation of the
Meters themselves. The homage is so
obvious (one of the songs is called
’Metermaid’) that you can’t really
begrudge the fact that Galactic rarely,
reconfigures the formula enough to
make it their own: it!s kind of like listen
ing to the Mingus Big Band. Still, when
they do — by slowing down to the
speed of tense, restful breathing on the
opening track, ’Hamp's Hump.’ for
example — it's a bone-chilling experi
ence. funk with the force of illegal
inhalants.
When Galactic just kicks back and
play at being the Meters, it!s still pretty
damn good. The production quality (a
marked improvement from their first LP.
Coolin' Off) helps: producer Dan
Prothero has managed to build a record
that's got both polish and grit, a sophis
ticated sissy that still knows how to
strut. For the next go-round, the mark of
true sophistication will lie in whether
Galactic can build on what it has &sor-
ped and make music thatls truly new.
For now, though, there’s pleasure
enough in the groove. Catch it Oct. 2 at
the Georgia Theatre.
Richard Fausset
only heightens the impact of Chris
Lopez's torturous songs of despair and
love lost. Combining somewhat 50's
rock and roll melodies with howling
vocals and a bit of punk angst, the
Teens have managed to make one of the
most unu«>J rock n' roll albums that
I've heard recently.
Such excessive use of revert would
lead me to believe one of two things:
either the band (whose current drum
mer, Flagpoles Ballard Lesemann, did
not play on the album) is trying to cover
up the fact that they can't play very well,
or are using it for pure musical effect. In
this band's case, both are probably like
ly. U I’m more inclined to go with the
latter. The massive drums and noisy
guitar clang of the opening anthem
’Teen Muscle /Teen Hustle’ caught my
attention immediately, and will
inevitably be rattling around in my head
‘or quite a while. Another standout track,
"Don! Destro" This Night,’ is an aching
plea to a lover who's about to take off for
good, and is beautifully orchestrated
with percussive, jangly guitar washout
and a bouncy rhythm section.
Lopez spends most of the rest of
Baby, a Little Ram Must Fall bemoaning
some sort ol personal loss or heartache,
and occasionally, it hits the spot (’N.Y.
by Helicopter,’ lor instance). On the
other hand, the repetitive arrangements
and vocal caterwauling on some ot the
other tracks are just annoying. There's
no doubting Lopez's sincerity, however:
he otter, sounds as if hefs aoout to bust
a vessel, and hey, isn't that v.hat rock
u nd roll is all about? (P.O. Box 1235.
Chapel Hill. N.C. 27514)
Chris Morris
DIANA FROLEY
Pet My Kitty Mr. NYC
Skoda Records
Diana Froley, art therapist by day.
singer/songwriter by night, is the indie
flipside to the “womyn rock’ plague that
has swept the country and forced the
likes of Natalie Imbruglia and Paula
Cole down our ear canals.
Froley combines a nerdy quiririness
and earnestness with a large dollop of
obtuse wit — think ol Froley as Liz and
Jad Phair/Fair's awkward adolescent
sister. On this, her second CD. FroleyS
sparse, badly tuned guitar is backed
often by basic drum beats, bass and
occasionally by trumpet, banjo, mel-
lophone, violins and accordion. The
combination of simple, no-trills
melodies, Fraley's droll, little voice, and
a lo-fi sound is refreshingly angst-free
and. well, darting.
The music is perfect accompani
ment for Fraley’s demented and usually
lovelorn lyrics. With ingenuous images
and an odd approach to logical progres
sion, Froley takes cliches about love
and turns them on their heads. In
’Coach, Cigar,’ Froley pines over
gypsy-inflected accordion and violin:
"My heart is a heart-shapea gearshift
inside your tractor.’ Songs range from
spare ballads like ’Say It With
Diamonds’ !o the lull, bona tide rock of
“How to Shoot.’
Despite the above. Froley’s thin
whine can get a bit annoying and the
songwriting at times toes the line
between wit and bad high school poetry
(e.g., ’I’ve been counting the days since
you left me. who says girts are bad at
math?’) Also, the baldness of her
rtiy.nes and lyrics can sometimes cause
involuntary cringes.
But overall. Pet My Kitty. Mr. NYC
works fine. On the CD's hidden last
track. Froley sings a wistful, tremulous
solo snippet of Elvis’s ‘I Can't Help
Falling In Love With You.’ That Froley
THE ROCK*A*TEENS
Baby, A Little Rain Must Fa't
Merge Records
drum, or even the Bahamian roots f Sloop John
6 (the standard covered by the Beach Boys on Pet
Sounds), managesto connect, ar re-connect. foHk
strains from the North American West to those
regions at once.
The sense of stiver fun -- almost tongue-iri-
cheek on some numbers’ mixea with ti e sober*
.current of their curious voca; blend on others.
Love that reverb! Apparently, so do
the Rock’A’Teens: the cavernous sound
of this Cabbagetown band's latest
release Baby a Little Rain Must Fall
south of Florida. The latter even makes subtle use ot
the clave suggesting traditional Afro-Cuban snnes.
Buf what really makes this stuff folk music, in
the frue sense of the term, is toe fact that these
makes sure these tunes'don't sound uke dos’.w
museum pieces iPO Box 48560. Athens GA
30604?
' - Bruce r/iilier
September 25th & 26th at
the 40 Watt Club
FEATURING: ;•
Trinket, Urban Grind,
Creekwater Sound,
Slack Daddy, Posh Toner,
Wunderkind, Pinetop 7,
The Drepung Monks, and
special surprise guests.
Advance tickets on sale at
Wuxtry and Big Shots
45 Advance $ 10/night,
$18/both nights $12 at the door
SPONSORED BY:
# Lotus
Eaters
journey
? Pffihtt t>e(<
Brought to you by:
Students for a Free Tibet
yniversity of Georgia Chapter
Pkt.f’flNC
1.0M.I INC
Monas iiry
SEPTEMBER 16, 1998