Exit English
STRIKE ANYWHERE
Jade Tree
Richmond activists Strike Anywhere have followed up their impressive 2001 full-length Change is a Sound with another consistent collection of compelling, impassioned melodic hardcore. While tighter and less lyrically specific than its predecessor, Exit English continues to split the difference between old-school ideas and new-school execution, relying heavily on simple riffs, shout-along choruses and familiar tempo dynamics to anchor intelligent, evocative tunes about individuality, social injustice and civil disobedience. And most of it works to breathtaking effect, strengthened by the odd ingenious guitar part and vocalist Thomas Barnett's visceral charisma. The crushing, rant-along end of "To The World" is every bit as effective as Zach de la Rocha's "fuck you, I won't do what you tell me" refrain, but far less likely to be adopted as a zombified fraternity chant. Exit English isn't quite perfect — while there aren't any clunkers, the band doesn't seem to really hit its stride until almost halfway through, and most of the exceptionally bright spots ("Lights Go Out," "Fifth Estate," "Aluminum Union," "Extinguish") populate the album's far side. Also, the quintet sounds more like Hot Water Music (not a bad thing, just a fairly conspicuous one) than ever before, more likely a result of working with HWM producer Brian McTernan than anything else. But Exit English is well-nigh unimpeachable, one of the most end-to-end inspiring punk releases to come along, well, since their last one. 
—Scott Harrell
IV
SEAL
Warner Bros.
On the intro to "Get it Together," the opening song on Seal's terrific new album, the singer caresses a gospel-tinged melody over the soulful accompaniment of a lone electric piano. Then the beat kicks in and the song resonates with sheer celebration. My instant response: This is a tune I can hear over and over and over again. The British pop star is back after five years — in a very big way. You can't really ascribe a genre to Seal IV, other than, perhaps, immaculate pop. The disc fairly brims with grabby, epic hooks made even more seductive by Seal's expressively grainy pipes. Trevor Horn's production is lush, huge and crisp. The CD is well paced, mixing sensitive balladry with rousing uptempo numbers, and has no dead wood. Seal IV is everything a great mainstream pop album should be. —ERIC SNIDER
To The Rooftops
WATCHERS
Gern Blandsten
Maybe the masses are right. Maybe those of us who search out music off the beaten path of commercial radio, or even beyond the pseudo-hipster-approved fringe, are kidding ourselves. Perhaps it's true: We don't want songs. We don't want sing-along choruses. We're just in such a hurry to be the first to hype the next that we'll grab onto anything new, anything different, anything that breaks any and all songwriting rules in the name of foisting upon us an amalgam of sounds we haven't heard before. I occasionally feel that way, that I'll give anything new a shot, even if it forsakes anything remotely resembling listenability, so long as it provides my ears with something I've never heard before. Thankfully, something like To The Rooftops always comes along to wipe away the madness. Different is not always better — as anybody who's eaten at Arby's has already figured out — and bold experimentation (or even a conscious re-examination of the way proven elements fit together) does not always equal quality. This collection of dissonant almost-funk melds all that's wrong with Joan of Arc to all that's disposable about New York City's over-hyped emphasis on recycled dance grooves. It's horrible. Watchers' love of Bowie is understandable; their insistence on obliterating the concept of the hook with irritating herky-jerky guitar riffage, the aural equivalent of really bad spoken-word cadence, is not. —Scott Harrell
Legacy: The Absolute Best
THE DOORS
Rhino
If you're like me — the proud owner of Doors individual CD titles, compilations and a boxed set — you might wonder: What's the point in owning this one? Best answer: the car. Legacy is the perfect permanent installation for your ride, man. A Doors fix at your fingertips. With two CDs, it includes more than just the hits ("Light My Fire," "Hello, I Love You" et al) and standards ("The End," "When the Music's Over" etc.). You also get stuff like "Peace Frog," "My Eyes Have Seen You," "Wild Child," "The Wasp (Texas Radio and the Big Beat)," the "Changeling" and other cosmic blues gems. Some of us may have forgotten just how fucking good "Waiting for the Sun" is. If you're a Doors neophyte, Legacy is a terrific place to start. A meal, not just a mouthful. —ERIC SNIDER
Greatest T*ts
Lords of Acid
Sanctuary
Sure, the intro to "I Sit on Acid" ("Darling, come here, fuck me up the …") will always provoke screams of nostalgic glee from the dancefloor. But this anthology of a decade's worth of decadence from Belgian provocateurs Lords of Acid proves the outfit did little more than drag easily digestible dirty-house rhythms and synth sounds out interminably, relying on calculatedly shocking dirty-talk to keep it interesting. Of course, they helped invent a lot of those sounds, but time's passage has rendered most of it far more dated than classic. The sporadic rapping-female vocals are laughable (particularly on "Pussy"), the occasional forays into other styles are trite (see the amped-up surf vibe of "Am I Sexy" and embarrassing rock-steady of "Marijuana in Your Brain"), and new tracks like "Gimme Gimme" lend the impression that LoA are more interested in beating their dead one-trick horse than innovating. For completists and diehard fans only. 1/2—Scott Harrell
Indestructible
ART BLAKEY & THE JAZZ MESSENGERS
RVG/Blue Note
The venerable music lab that was Art Blakey & The Jazz Messengers went through myriad permutations over its many decades of existence. Indestructible chronicles the closing of a particularly rich period when the group existed as a sextet from 1961 to 1964. A three-horn front line —including tenor saxophonist Wayne Shorter (soon to leave for Miles Davis' group), trumpeter Lee Morgan and trombonist Curtis Fuller — allowed the ensemble a richer and more arranged sound. That these players, along with pianist Cedar Walton, were also ace writers, gave the band that much more heft. Indestructible deliver a variety of feels: Shorter's angular, haunting "Mr. Jin"; Morgan's riffy, waltz-time "Calling Miss Khadija"; Fuller's catchy "The Egyptian"; Walton's unabashedly romantic ballad "When Love is New" (with Shorter blowing long, luxuriant notes). As usual, the solos brim with boldness and swagger and Blakey's stickwork keeps it all sublimely swinging. 1/2—ERIC SNIDER
This article appears in Oct 9-15, 2003.