You know, I saw Sook-Yin Lee perform live a few years ago, and while her musical ideas weren’t particularly well realized, at least she had a heart-breakingly beautiful singing voice that transcended some of the more wanky sections of that show. Too bad on this album she seems have clipped her vocal wings and settles for what can only be described as a deliberately bad Edith Piaf imitation. Our CBC songstress’ obvious boredom isn’t helped by collaborator "Rumble’s" (as if the moniker weren’t bad enough) songwriting, which oscillates between dreadfully dull ("Heartbreaker" and "Sly") and wrist-slittingly predictable ("Slow ’n’ Steady" and "I Feel a Ways"). There is also little aid from the instrumentation, which is as passionless as the vocals and doesn’t seem to aspire to any sort of unifying sound; aside from readily identifiable attempts to mimic everyone from U2 to the Sneaker Pimps, the album is a generic electrowash. The only bright spot is the endearing-if-totally-out-of-place ’60s garage-rock guitar that pops up occasionally. So why any stars at all? Simple: as a taxpayer, I am apparently implicated in the production of this album–thanks to the Canada Music Fund–and as an investor in this project, I’m trying to maximize my return without actually lying to anyone.

MEATLOAF
Couldn’t Have Said it Better
(EMI)
*

All that needs to be said here is this: You had better pray to God that those media monsters don’t try to cram Meatloaf’s new album down your throat! I’m not saying that I didn’t used to know every word to every Meatloaf song ever written, or want to be one of the beautiful women backing him on his climactic storyline videos. Meatloaf once offered the world the finest of cheeses, and had some effect on even the coolest of individuals (those who would never admit they liked Meatloaf). Well folks, that was then, and this is now. His new album is not musically operatic–his songs are tediously boring, like a drag out of hell. No songs about being barely dressed, just songs of ladies who have turned off their cellphones in avoidance and adults engaged in marital infidelity. Well, boo-hoo Meatloaf. Aside from the brilliantly marketed, oddly comical intermezzo (when your seductress talks about the many hits you’ve had (way back in the ’70s), Couldn’t Have Said It Better is no "Paradise By The Dashboard Light," and I could have said it better, myself.

DAVE MATTHEWS
Some Devil
(RCA/BMG)
** 1/2

Those with an opinion on Dave Matthews are divided between two types of people: those who absolutely adore him and those who truly detest him. The reasons often differ as to why you love or hate Matthews, and I have my own. I don’t like Dave Matthews. I find his music to be devoid of any form of true musical energy (or guts) despite his instrumental prowess and straightforward–yet somewhat obtuse–writing style. I find him to be extremely boring simply because everything he does is so damn clean. Some Devil will not change my opinion of Matthews. His first solo effort is better than most of his Dave Matthews’ Band releases, benefiting from the presence of Phish leading man Trey Anastasio on the first three tracks (he then disappears for the rest of the album), but most of the songs are predictable, over-polished, and I’m getting weary of his propensity for making it sound like he’s forcing it out of himself. Matthews certainly doesn’t re-invent himself on this one, and it’s a little bit annoying that it’s the same old stuff all over again. But it’s all too well produced, and HIS fans will have to LOVE this album. Matthews provides his usual trademark strummed acoustic guitars and quivering voice with a dash of world beats in a mish mash of semi-religious themes backed up with the occasional choir or string arrangement. Sounds familiar? Good. ’Cause in the end, just like with any other Matthews record, I can’t remember one song by name–nor do I care to.

THE TWILIGHT SINGERS
Blackberry Belle
(One Little Indian)
*** 1/2

There is no fairer way to approach Blackberry Belle than to describe it in terms of its cover art. The grainy elegance of three palm trees is set against a papery sky, the camera aimed high enough that the effect is like three giraffes being photographed from the neck up. As Blackberry Belle spins inside the CD player, the spiky foliage of the trees begins to blur and warp. They aren’t trees anymore. Rather, they form a triptych of nightmarish Rorschach tests. These are the Hollywood palms of Roman Polanski’s Chinatown or David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive –queasy, often disturbing, and yet not without the glitz and glamour that palm trees have come to represent. Not surprisingly, this is the exact ambience that Blackberry Belle creates.

The Twilight Singers are fronted by ex-Afghan Whigs mainman Greg Dulli, and most Whigs fans will find something to like here. Dulli’s voice still sounds like a thousand shots of vodka, and his choice of subject matter is as dark as it ever was. He sweats, shakes, crawls, and pleads his way through these 11 songs like an addict kicking the habit. It’s definitely not easy listening, but it’s usually morbidly entertaining. Musically, the Twilight Singers chart a course perilously close to mainstream radio alt-rock, but it’s Dulli’s grimly melodramatic persona and lavish production work that will likely see Blackberry Belle branded "too creepy" or "too complicated" for your average FM rock station.

TOMMY McCOOK
Blazing Horns/Tenor In Roots
(Blood & Fire)
***

Tommy McCook was a giant in Jamaican music. As if being one of the key members of the Skatalites wasn’t enough, McCook’s later band the Supersonics helped shape ska’s development into rocksteady and then into reggae. Every reggae fan knows of the ska scorchers that McCook blew on, but not everyone has heard his jazz-flavoured work from the 1970s. Blazing Horns and the untitled LP that makes up Tenor In Roots have been combined together by Blood & Fire for this release. Half of the tracks were produced by Yabby You and the others by the great Glen Brown, so if you already own Blood & Fire’s Jesus Dread and Termination Dub sets, Blazing Horns makes a nice companion piece. All things considered, this is more of a jazz album than a reggae album. Instrumental from start to finish, it showcases not only McCook’s fluid sax work, but Ansel Collins’ funky keyboards and the fine trumpet of Bobby Ellis as well. Their solos float over the bass-heavy reggae skanks underneath, creating a very laid back vibe. Perhaps a bit too laid back for this reggae fan’s tastes. I’m loathe to use the expression "easy listening," but that’s the vibe I’m left with after a few listens. However, Blazing Horns is a reminder that when Tommy was good, he was very, very good.

LIVING COLOUR
Collid0scope
(Silverline)
***

Remember the day-glo Body Glove wear, dreads wrapped in coloured yarn, and monster funk-rock riffs? Eight years after breaking up, Living Colour has returned–sans neon, thankfully. So, in case you don’t remember why this is a good thing, here’s a refresher. The band’s debut in ’88 did for hard rock what Bad Brains did for punk–bring a sonically aggressive and lyrically political sound, filtered through an African American experience, to an almost exclusively Anglo genre. The group’s two follow-up full-length albums failed to duplicate the success of Vivid though, mostly because they were both less focused and more adventurous, exploring punk to R&B. Not surprisingly, the inability to decide on the direction of a fourth album was their demise.

Now, with Collid0scope, the New Yorkers are visiting some familiar territory with mixed results. Overall the album is infused with more spacey electronic flourishes than ever before, contains the same biting social commentary (notably "Nightmare City" and "In Your Name"), has plenty of that familiar groove, and thrives on Vernon Reid’s freakishly accomplished guitar. Unfortunately, none of the songs reach the fever pitch of "Cult of Personality," capture the thrash assault of "Time’s Up," or give off the quiet warmth of "Solace of You." Songs like "Sacred Ground" and "? Of Mind, A" are repetitive and bland, while the two covers: a tongue-in-cheek reworking of AC/DC’s "Back in Black" and a protracted take of the Beatles’ "Tomorrow Never Knows," are unnecessary. The band can still pen urgent, catchy rock, though, as proven on "Song Without Sin" and "Operation Mind Control." The polished gem on the album is the eloquent yet gut-wrenching "Flying," written from the viewpoint of someone forced to jump from a burning Trade Tower.

Living Colour still sounds exciting and feels important, now it’s just a matter of finding that elusive focus. Maybe there really was magic in those bright yellow Body Glove outfits.

NEIL YOUNG
On the Beach
(Warner/Reprise)
****

Never issued on tape or CD, Neil Young’s On the Beach has basically attained the status of an "official bootleg." With its re-release, fans can finally replace their worn out vinyl and enjoy one of Young’s best albums. Upon its original release in 1974, the album met with harsh reviews from critics and fans clamouring for another Harvest. But at the height of his superstardom, Young found himself becoming middle of the road, and so he deliberately "headed for the ditch." The album’s stripped down aesthetic, meandering songs, and abrasive lyrics provide an aural representation of this new direction. The titles of the two most popular tracks, "Walk On" and "For the Turnstiles," suggest an artist who is moving on, while the lyrics of "Ambulance Blues" and "On the Beach" embrace the inevitable progression of time. The album’s other tracks include the introspective "Motion Pictures," the somewhat dated sounding "See the Sky About to Rain," the angry "Revolution Blues" (about the Manson family), and the bizarre "Vampire Blues." Casual fans will most likely miss the production values and accessibility of Young’s earlier mega-selling albums, but On The Beach oozes soul, feeling, and a down-home defiance rarely captured on record. If you like alt-country, check out this album along with its siblings Tonight’s the Night and the (STILL unavailable) Time Fades Away.