Reviews: Face The Music
Tom Petty and the HeartbreakersThe Last DJGenre: RockNext of Kin: Bob Seger, Neil Young, The Wallflowers2.5 stars (out of 5)
Oh, when rich men cry.
After 26 years battling the music industry, it’s no surprise Tom Petty exploded on The Last DJ. The thematic record is a candid indictment of American corporatization and the crookedness of the music industry.
Tom Petty — the every man voice, the blue collar loser, the high school dropout, the guy with nothing but a guitar on his back and a tank full of gas — has taken a stand.
Petty has a troubled history with the recording industry. He’s organized fan protests over retail mark-ups, rejected corporate sponsorship and snubbed advertisers seeking song licensing.
He has made no secret of his disillusionment with the soaring cost of concert tickets, bamboozling contracts, shifty record deals, the vapidity of pop stars and the merging of behemoth corporations. The Last DJ seizes these experiences and retells them in storybook form.
The title track — a biting number about the death of free form radio — has triggered protest in stations across the country that refuse to add the song to airplay lists. ‘Money Becomes King’ revises the ‘Into the Great Wide Open’ saga, only this time Johnny sells out, screwing his diehard fans in the process. Yet both songs seem restrained in comparison to ‘Joe,’ a ham-fisted rant against cigar-chomping CEOs.
Petty’s over-the-top impression of a scumbag exec (‘Bring me a girl / They’re always the best / You put ’em on stage /and you have ’em undress/Some angel whore/who can learn a guitar lick/Hey, that’s what I call music’) leaves a foul aftertaste, easily making ‘Joe’ the worst song in his catalogue.
Sadly enough, the best songs drown in Petty’s proselytizing. ‘Dreamville,’ ‘Like a Diamond’ and ‘Blue Sunday’ are typical Petty fare — rambling, winsome songs deeply rooted in folksy southern rock. The album is littered with references to George Harrison; his signature ukulele even weasels its way onto a few tracks.
Petty’s crabbiness is allayed by his starry-eyed optimism as the album winds to a close with ‘Can’t Stop the Sun,’ which predicts like-minded musicians enlisting the cause.
Will it change a damn thing? Doubtful. Was it worth a try? You bet.
— Ashlea Halpern
Boy GeorgeA Night In With Boy GeorgeGenre: Chill-OutNext of Kin: Air, Orbital, The Future Sound of London3.5 stars (out of 5)
So what if he wears more makeup than your mother? Give the Boy a break.
Boy George, erstwhile chief of the Culture Club, ditched the ‘80s excess in favor of Ibiza-ready anthems more than a decade ago. On his latest effort, A Night In With Boy George, the veteran DJ takes us on a mellow, SOMA-soaked trip that steers clear of the standard Ministry of Sound roster.
Perfect for post-party partying, “A Night In” is a welcome break from the progressive house tracks George has historically thrown down. He jump starts the set with the epic acid jazz of Marden Hill, eclipsing Felix da Housecat favorite Royskopp and delving headfirst into a heavenly sitar-laced ballad by Jadell.
The vocal smatterings are as chilling as chill-out gets (especially the gospel singers on Away Team’s “Not My People”) and smartly avoid the mind-numbing repetition of trance.
George’s only lapse in judgment arises in the form of a party-crashing hip-hop track by Mr. Live. He rectifies the unbefitting number with a fiery grand finale from tribal-king Mychael Danna.
Talk about good karma, karma, karma.
— Ashlea Halpern
Cave InTides of TomorrowGenre: Progressive RockNext of Kin: Rush, Sparta, Radiohead4 stars (out of 5)
One listen to Cave In’s Tides of Tomorrow is enough to fill most musicians with creative-sparking envy and give anyone who appreciates good music a new favorite band.
This EP marks a departure for the group that began turning heads with its 2000 release “Jupiter,” as it prepares to move from indie label Hydra Head Records to RCA.
Singer/guitarist Stephen Brodsky’s trademark intelligent lyrics are still there, but the riffs are stronger and the musical ideas more focused.
From the propulsive opener, ‘Come Into Your Own,’ to the cascading ‘Everest,’ Cave In continues to show being ‘prog’ doesn’t necessarily mean insane time signatures and blistering licks only Juilliard grads can pull off.
These guys are excellent musicians, but their greatest strength is in crafting songs intricate enough to reward the attentive listener, but tangible enough that they don’t require a music degree for full enjoyment.
Tides of Tomorrow is like the appetizer you wish you could turn into an entree.
For that you’ll have to wait, and just leave the best 30 minutes of music you’ve heard in ages on repeat.
— Adam Ritchie
Hot Water Music CautionGenre: Post-hardcoreNext Of Kin: Quicksand, Fugazi, Rival Schools3.5 stars (out of five)
Caution is the post-hardcore equivalent of a car speeding straight toward a brick wall. The intention is clear from the starting gate.
“I need a remedy of diesel and dust,” screams the opening declaration of “Remedy” as twin guitars warm up and drums begin stomping like a pair of Doc Martens.
Fueled by vitriol, Chuck Ragan and Chris Wollard trade barbed riffs, lip-curling snarls and scratchy shouts throughout such unrelenting songs as “Sweet Disasters” and “We’ll Say Anything We Want.” The tempo is as blinding as traditional hardcore punk, but tempered with caustic melody. Words are spouted with a sense of urgency, losing syllables along the way.
The album shifts gears and hits red lights often enough to keep the ride from ending in disaster.
Too ballsy to be emo punk, “Trusty Chords” tells of a man struggling to “let her go” while a fistful of pills promise a sedate escape. Cracking vocals painfully ask a lost lover, “How was your weekend?” during “Alright for Now” as drums and guitars overshadow soft piano keys.
Punk is not dead.
— Andrew Parks
Jurassic 5Power in NumbersGenre: Hip-hopNext Of Kin: Freestyle Fellowship, Treacherous Three, Cold Crush Brothers3 stars (out of five)
Keeping it real is so 1992. Thankfully, hip-hop collective Jurassic 5 harkens back to glory days of old, when mics were passed like joints and scores were settled with skills.
Power in Numbers is more of the same J5, peppered with thoughtful rhymes and inventive beats.
Organs grind as a sampled Chuck D shouts over “What’s Golden.” Horns blow, saxophones blast and video game effects trample “High Fidelity.” A whimsical flute hums in pied piper fashion through “If You Only Knew”, leaving four frolicking emcees in its wake.
Underground hip-hoppers have taken vocal stabs at bling-bling culture for years. The criticisms are usually warranted and clever. But the foreboding “One Of Them” sticks out like Vanilla Ice in a Harlem nightclub. It doesn’t get much pettier than, “Concerned with looking cute/ Nails done, eyes plucked/ Homey, what the fuck?”
Other party starters and solid guest spots, courtesy of rapid-firing forefathers Big Daddy Kane and Percy P and the ever-versatile Nelly Furtado, hold the rest of the album together.
If J5 can only keep the ghats away on the next album, it’ll be perfect.
— Andrew Parks