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AUTECHRE
Unfitted
Warp
With Unfitted Motive gets its
groove back. In recent years. British
blokes Sean Booth and Rob Brown have
shown signs ol being stuck in a rut ol
electro tedium. Their beats were
growing evermore formulaic and the
slew ot followers that have sprouted like
weeds in their wake have surpassed (he
exemplar. However. Untilted plunges
Autechre head-long into the rabbit hole
to rediscover the abstract beats, syn
thetic muscles and minimalism that
bestow the groups digital dirge with its
most powerful qualities
Booth and Brown come weeping
back from the void with "LC.C*. estab
lishing a base tone from which to
unleash an arsenal of cerebral tension
*Pro Radii* jostles about splashing
in puddles of pixels that hi! the brain
with dicks and chirps that are both cor
rosive and enlightening. ‘Augmatic
Disport* follows with waves of bom
bastic bass and nihilistic robotic
ambiance
For the coffee shop critics who for
ever damn Autechre because "their
beats aren't weird enough anymore* or
They've been surpassed by younger,
more technically savvy artists,* Booth
and Brown abide Untitled embraces
simple and hard-hitting ‘80s production
qualities, churning out mechanical
fugues of rhythm and distortion
The use of the space between
colossal beats and clusters ol mutating
order throughout Termium* and
*SuWimit* is just as important as the
auto-plod that holds Untilted together
Like the cavity-ridden teeth ot some cor
rupted anti-viral software munching
away on candy-coated spyware. Unfitted
relishes its prey Wincing in pain as
grains of sugar blast over exposed
nerve endings, the discomfort only fuels
Autechre* appetite for destruction
Chad Radford
Autectve is playing at the Variety
Playhouse in Atlanta o>i Fnday, May 27
KEREN ANN
Nolita
Blue Note
In the interest of Kill disclosure. Ill
teil you that I donl like Keren Ann*
chosen musical genre of tasteful vocal
jazz. On the other hand. I do often like
her particular subgerve of throaty
female voices Parisian cabaret ’ So this
easily could have gone either way. but,
unfortunately, it falls in the ‘crappy*
column.
Nolita is not a retro-jazz album or
an indie-jazz album; it* just a vocal jazz
album, not much different from what
you might Find in that section of Barnes
& Noble, and related (both by label and
by sound) to the dreaded Nocah Jones. I
want to say things like. *You just have to
get over your aversion to its quote-
unquote mainstream sound to discover
a wonderful album,* but the tad is, the
hype Nolita has received is baffling to
me. even if I can't begrudge Keren Ann
some success. It* just not very good
Take the opener. "Que N'Ai-JeT
(*What Don! I Have?*). The lyrics are in
French, which is usually wonderful But
the vocal line seems to consist of three
notes, and the percussion plodding on
behind her is no help ‘Chelsea Burns*
is a great song delivered in a voice so
lifeless that it* D.OA. lifted only by a
great violin part. There* a superficial
resemblance to post-shoegaze/ heroin-
chic bands like Mazzy Star or early
Drugstore, but without the interesting
arrangements or terrific melodies.
Maybe if you like similarly boring slow-
core bands like Low you might enjoy
Keren Ann. but lor me. it* no on both
counts.
Michael Barthei
0
7 V 'V
S. A
* .. > k • • ■y/«
QUEENS OF THE
STONE AGE
Lullabies to Paralyze
Interscope
The Queens'2002 breakout release
Songs tor the Deaf purported that
modern rock radio is lithe but a barren
shit-pit Curiously enough, the new
follow up fashions itself as some kind of
twisted tairy tale but plays like a mix tape
of 70s AOR goodies and gloomy 80s
new wave The album* biggest shift
comes with the absence of canned
bassist Nick Oliveri. Oliveri* heavy hand
and Dave Grohl* drums are nonetheless
compensated lor by new additions Joey
Castillo and Alain Johannes. Save lor
two foreboding vocal contributions from
Mark Lanegan (This Lullaby.* Burn the
Witch*), this game belongs to Queens
headmaster Josh Homme
Much of Lullabies to Paralyze
(Tangled Up In Ptaid, *YouVe Got a
Killer Scene There, Man*) confirms that
Homme is using the band more and
more as his personal bullshit detector,
a mischievous forum in which lo fling
boogers at pop culture 1 got flesh in
my Wood/1 hate rock n' roll.* he sings
on Killer Scene * The later sentiment is
somewhat doubtful as this is the point
when those listening at home can mark
QOSA and ELO off their game card is
Homme ribbing us or has his inner
Thin Lizzy been further unleashed by
Oliveri* departure’
With 14 tracks spread over more
than an hour. Lullabies tends to drag It
remains a solid album buitt on the
macho pace and stamina of heavy
album rock and the cynical attitude ot
•early‘80s post-punk bands m the Echo
and the Bunnymen vein. Perhaps Its
tone is best summed up by the title of a
missing track recorded with Dean Ween,
the master of which was stolen before
the album* final press: The Fun
Machine Took a Shit and Died.*
Michael Andrews
NEWORDER
Waiting for the Sirens’ Call
Warner Bros.
New Order* 25th anniversary also
marks the end of their former band Joy
Division and the death of singer Ian
Curtis. With a history steeped in equal
parts tragedy and success, the band has
always exhibited a grace under pressure
that has yielded positive results. Waiting
tor the Sirens'Call, while not ground
breaking, is certainty a passable New
Order record.
This album finds the band moving
over familiar ground; the finely tuned
songs play with a sense of eneigy and
invigoralion more recent releases had
been lacking. Bernard Sumner* lyrics
are typically dodgy, favoring the same
old cheap rhymes and lazy croon... but
he sounds so damn comfortable it
doesn't even really matter what he is
saying. Sumner* lyrics have always
been post-punk* equivalent of “Saved
By the Bell.* but during stand-out
moments like (he swirling dance thump
ot “Guilt is a Useless Emotion,* or the
meticulously crafted apology song
Turn.* lyrical content becomes as
irrelevant as it has been to any New
Order release
Waiting fa the Sirens' Call wonl
change the world, nor will it be the
make-or-break must-have disc that rev
olutionizes deejay culture On the other
hand, if you go out looking for a pre
dictable New Order album and pick it
up, theyll like it. tf you want all that
other stuff—lyrical impact, challenging
music, efa—go gef the Joy Division
boxed set.
Paul Nunn
u
TN
PONY UP!
Pony Up!
V2
I donl know it it* because the
season* are changing or because r ve
been spending too much time at the ice
cream truck, but the best I could come
up with upon hearing Pony Up!* self-
titled £P was a deep-fried carnival snack
My intellectually groundbreaking con
clusion: Pony Up!* EP is funnel cake. It
sounds like a good idea, but it only
leaves you with a sugar overload and
stomachache full of disappointment
Unfortunately. Montreal* sugary
girl-band* debut is just as unsatisfying.
The EP is seven songs of Donna*-
brand feminism—empowerment via
excessive camp. Armed with faux inno
cence and Power Puff Girls cuteness.
Pony Up! combat the evils of mean
boys, paper-thin heartache and the
futility ol lusting after long-since-retired
‘80s teen idols.
The album* first track. “Shut Up and
Kiss Me.* is tun and poppy, priming us
for more expansion on the theme. But as
the second track "Minstrel* changes
pace with off-kilter vocals about leaving
a bad relationship, lyrics like *my
brother and sister are going to beat you
up* are just plain annoying and the cycle
continues. All of the tracks contain
hooks catchy enough to ignore the occa
sionally painful cutesy veneer, until the
album* nauseating last bite on the fifth
track; an awful devotional to Mathew
Modtne which sends fhe cheeky vocals
and tinkly melodies all too tar. solidi
fying this EP* place at funnef-cake
status, closing with the line *0h Mathew
Modme. you give us creamy jeans.* I've
been on an all-salt diet ever since.
Jessica Amason
TUUANA HERCULES
Tijuana Hercules
Black Pisces
like tire grimy grease monkey who
serves as gatekeeper to the salvage
yard—finger nails, jeans and mustache
all blackened with oil from a lifetime of
manhandling dead motors—Tijuana
Hercules revels in filfh. The Chicago-by-
way-of-Atlanta frontman John Forbes
saunters through a lumbering lurch,
belching each line with all the gravel and
grit ot Woftman jack on amphetamines
Backed by drummers Chad Smith
and Zak Piper—the former hits a tradi
tional kit as the tatter pounds on coffee
cans, cowbells etc —the trio muscles
out a drunken and industrialized folk art
rattle The razor-sharp drive of Forbes'
former Chicago goon rock outfit Mt
Shasta, rings loud and clear in songs
like 'Pack K up Mamma 1 ' and Turn This
Around.* But the mutam tolk strumming
of “So Ripped* and unhinged lurch of
"Whales on Every Side* prove that
there* still a little Cabbagetown left in
his deranged dirge. Although these
songs bare no aestfetic resemblance to
Ns "90s Atlanta sleaze rock group Dirt
the lineage is unmistakable.
The cadence of This Orchard is
Roden* takes shape with angst oozing
from equal parts Midwestern factory
worker and Southern street urchin. The
song churns and tumbles, with mechan
ical endurance that bleeds into ’Bath 1
Needs New Shoes '
"When the Moon Comes Up Wild.*
closes the disc with Forbes lamenting.
*lt* been a lousy life!* And as quickly
as it all began the well oiled machinery
grinds to a halt. There is no joy in the
salvage yard, there* nothing left to sal
vage
Chad Radford
Downtown
546-5014
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