The Art of Losing
AMERICAN HI-FI
Island
When American Hi-Fi's debut single, "Flavor of the Weak," hit a couple of years ago in the midst of the nu-metal blitz, caffeinated power-pop riffs and sort-of-but-not-really ironic metal signs were still novel with the Modern Rock radio nation. The song went over huge, and former Letters to Cleo drummer Stacy Jones seemed to have successfully pulled a Grohl. But a big, buzzy follow-up single failed to materialize, and now, the band's sophomore full-length emerges into a landscape littered with generic teen anthems and half-assed almost-punk.
Ostensibly faced with the choice of sticking to its guns or offering up an alternative, American Hi-Fi went with the former. The Art of Losing is a slightly more varied and rocking take on their self-titled maiden voyage. Unfortunately, it features fewer of the shamelessly simple, familiar hooks that put "Flavor of the Weak" over the top. What's more, given the fact that since then, dozens of bands have gone mainstream by doing it both better and worse, much of the album comes off as cliched filler.
A bit of the blame can be assigned to a mainstream environment that's currently exposing ears to any three-minute piece of shite that remotely resembles the dreck of Good Charlotte and Simple Plan. Most of it, however, can be placed squarely on American Hi-Fi, because anybody who's still writing tunes called "Breakup Song" and "Teenage Alien Nation" and utilizing lyrics like "Baby's built for speed" — and appearing to mean them — had better blow the listener's mind. And The Art of Losing doesn't. 
—Scott Harrell
Electric Sweat
THE MOONEY SUZUKI
Columbia
The raggedy New York quartet delivers an inspired distillation of '60s rock, heavily refracted through a garage/punk prism. Sound familiar? That's OK. Electric Sweat, released last year and now reissued by Columbia, stomps with the best of the neo-garage lot. You can clearly hear The Who, Kinks, Yardbirds, MC5, a bit of early English glam and other influences in The Mooney Suzuki's sound, but in such a reckless amped-up way that it sidesteps copycatting. (Well, not completely). The band ups the stakes with some rugged but effective guitar solos that give most of the songs a welcome goose. Distortion-fueled organ on a few songs adds to the fun. 1/2 —Eric Snider
Legends of the Incredible Lap Steel Guitar
VARIOUS ARTISTS
Horse Rock
While most music fans rightly associate the lap steel with C&W, its sinewy, mellifluous tone has informed a variety of styles from Hawaiian roots standards to Latin ballads. This anthology, put together by upstart L.A. imprint Horse Rock, serves as both an introduction to the horizontal stringed instrument's versatility and a showcase for some of its masters. And even if you could care less about the history and pedigree of lap steel (like me), or know next to nothing about the artists who've mastered it (again, like me), the disc is a beautifully eclectic listen suitable for either rapt absorption or mellow background sounds. Highlights include the lounge-y Gary Brandin opener "In The Dark;" the last-call roadhouse country of Harry Manx's "Only Then Will Your House Be Blessed;" Stacy Phillips' Baroque, technically astounding "Flambee Montalbanaise;" Cindy Cashdollar's atmospheric "Locust Grove;" and the Latin/European/ country fusion of Ken Emerson's "Ka Loke de la Corazon." Everything else here is nicely listenable as well, rounding out a different and ear-pleasing disc that one needn't be a die-hard aficionado of the lap steel guitar to enjoy. (www.horserockrecords.com) 1/2—Scott Harrell
John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman
JOHN COLTRANE AND JOHNNY HARTMAN
Impulse
Quick note before I start: I requested this album from the label erroneously thinking it had been re-reissued. I was going to flush the review because the disc is dated 1995, but the music is so timeless and excellent, what does it matter?
This is one of those jazz albums that even folks who "don't get" jazz must own. Despite his reputation as an iconoclast, Coltrane made a number of albums in the '60s that were decidedly easy on the ears, none more so than this 1963 collaboration with underheralded singer Hartman. The collection of ballads contains nary a jarring note. Trane and his regular rhythm section lay down a seductive musical bed, anchored by Elvin Jones' uncharacteristically subdued drumming (on brushes) and Jimmy Garrison's nimble bass work, decorated with Tyner's piano filigree. Coltrane, exclusively on tenor sax, contributes warm, thoughtful solos, favoring the upper register and a feathery tone. The band is not the main attraction, though — that's split between Hartman and the songs (in order: "They Say it's Wonderful," "Dedicated to You," "My One and Only Love," "Lush Life," "You are Too Beautiful," "Autumn Serenade"). He is not a vocal gymnast, instead opting to wrap his velvety baritone around the words and melodies, occasionally bending a note or elongating a phrase for subtle emphasis. The album's centerpiece is one of the all-time great renditions of Billy Strayhorn's "Lush Life," as poetic an evocation of heartbreak ever written. Hartman smoothly navigates the winding melody and lends emotional heft to the song's remarkable eloquence: "The girls I knew had sad and sullen gray faces/ With distingue traces/ That used to be there, you could see where they'd been washed away/ By too many through the day/ Twelve o'clock tales."
The only problem with the reissue of John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman is that it clocks in at a meager 31:16 (pretty standard LP length at the time). Don't let that deter you, though; the music is priceless. —Eric Snider
This article appears in Apr 16-22, 2003.