Hot Water Music A Flight And A Crash
On their debut full-length for punk monolith/clearing-house Epitaph, and sixth overall (counting this year's odds n' ends compilation Never Ender), Gainesville's celebrated undergound road warriors manage to both surpass and confound all expectations. In what might be (mis)construed as a reaction to their new label's reputation for churning out Pennywise and Bad Religion soundalikes, HWM have released easily their most eclectic effort to date, one that tempers their trademark visceral expressionism with moody dynamics. The tight rhythms, four-string virtuosity and anthemic vibe are all in attendance, but frontmen Chuck Regan and Chris Wollard have cleared a bit of the gravel from their voices and guitar tones, sacrificing a bit of edge for a lot of melody. The result has more in common with Pearl Jam's warm, gritty everyman rock than most of your average hardcore pummel. Still, they sweat it out, and stay compelling and energetic throughout. If you like them because they're punk, you might be a bit put off. If you like them because they're very, very good, dig in. (Epitaph)
—Scott Harrell
DJ Logic The Anomaly
The most hooked-up DJ among NYC instrumentalists, DJ Logic unveils his second CD that features his touring quintet and a roll call of guest musicians. John Medeski (Logic is the honorary fourth member of Medeski Martin & Wood), trumpeter Ron Miles, guitarist Vernon Reid, bassist Melvin Gibbs and other luminaries contribute to this heady concoction of future-funk, hip-hop, house, dub and jazz. Logic not only uses his tables as a percussion instrument, but as a noise generator and even, at times, to produce melodies. The disc's impressive range touches on sunny, flute-fueled funk ("Michelle"), throbbing skronk over a reggae groove ("Drone"), a funky freakout with drum 'n' bass flava ("Frequency One"), soupy dub ("Afronautical") and a couple slices of abstract rap. The Anomaly strikes a deft balance between programming, scattershot sonics and sublime improvisation. (Ropeadope/Atlantic, www.ropeadope.com)
—Eric Snider
No Motiv Diagram for Healing
Power chords chunga chunga chunga big guitars CHUNGA CHUNGA CHUNGA earnest lyrics gave-your-heart-awayeeyayeeyay bitchin' bass dung dung dung. It's hard to put No Motiv in left-brain terms. (Either that, or listening to punk rock really does make you dumber.) A little power-pop, a little rock, a trace of hardcore — it's all glommed together with heartsick lyrics that can best be described as emo. The standout track among Diagram for Healing's 13 is the pensive "Get a Life." Look at these lyrics: "You get to go to New Jersey/ while I'm stuck for 50 years here/ staring out the wife and window/ dreaming of the deep blue sea." Brrrr … chilling. That's not emo — that's poetry! I have to admit, I was a little disappointed to read in the hefty press packet that No Motiv craves "success." Like most dyed-in-the-red-white-and-blue-wool Americans, I prefer to see creative types starve. I'm not sure why. More food for me and Britney, maybe? Pounda pounda drumma drumma! (Vagrant Records, www.vagrant.com)
—David Jasper
American Hi-Fi American Hi-Fi
American Hi-Fi is here to save rock 'n' roll. MTV says so. And maybe they could've. Former Letters to Cleo and Veruca Salt drummer Stacy Jones' debut as a tunesmith offers up some truly impressive hard-pop songwriting. However, the ultra-sheen production of Bob Rock (Bon Jovi, Metallica — there you have it) manages to buff away any trace of an edge, and the great riffage and compulsion present here quickly drown in a sea of overly familiar hooks and conspicuously hip references. (The leadoff single, "Flavor of the Weak," pretty much gives everything away.) The album is packed with catchy material, but it's been processed to the point that listeners will feel the strange urge to down a Mountain Dew and buy a Def Leppard jersey at the nearest Hot Topic. (Island/Def Jam)
—Scott Harrell
Sonic Liberation Front Water and Stone
This nine-piece multi-culti group from Philly has turned out quite the ear-opening debut CD. While the members do not boast lustrous international pedigrees, they have collectively forged a fusion that establishes a fresh niche in the nexus of world-music and jazz. Five percussionists lay down Afro-Cuban polyrhythms that come in rolling, pliant waves. An upright bassist carves out fat vamps. A horn section that includes tenor and alto sax and trumpet then ladles on angular, serpentine melodies. Improvisation unfolds leisurely and builds into a boil of hair-raising skronk and collective improvisation. And all the while that luscious groove keeps bubbling along. SLF stirs in call-and-response chants on a couple of songs, adding extra Afro flava. The music is at turns spacious and tense, flowing and chaotic. A revelation. (Eye Dog, www.the-slf.com)
—Eric Snider
The Blake Babies God Bless the Blake Babies
When I hear a once-beloved band is reuniting for an album, the "it's-gonna-suck" alarm goes off in my head. Luckily, I took a chance on the Blake Babies, an upbeat alt-pop band from Massachusetts circa the way-early '90s. After a 10-year hiatus, the reformed group issues their strongest effort yet, God Bless the Blake Babies. John Strohm and Freda Love Smith, of Mysteries of Life, and Juliana Hatfield, with her solo career, have been releasing albums for the last decade with varying degrees of success. It's apparent that the trio shines best together on the new hook-laden material. "Nothing Ever Happens," "Baby Gets High" and "Picture Perfect" are all catchy gems with generous amounts of organ and acoustic guitar. There's even a rocking duet, "Brain Damage," where Hatfield and Evan Dando sound confident and fabulous together. Ex-Lemonhead Dando adds bass, support guitar and back-up singing on half of the disc. God Bless is evidence that the Blake Babies have grown back together gracefully, using their collective experience for a stronger whole. (Zoe/Rounder)
—Chris Lunceford
This article appears in Jun 14-20, 2001.