Shrimp Boat's final album is also their best -- a brilliantly concise and colorful distillation of the group's myriad influences, Cavale is somehow both unassumingly charming and rigorously complex, a record which by all rights should buckle under the weight of its lofty aspirations but instead seems almost to float in mid-air. While the rootsy rhythms and textures of the previous Duende are still intact, they've also given way to an even greater palette of sonic accents ranging from jazz to Afro-Caribbean to blue-eyed soul, often all in the mix at the same time -- from the skittering opener "Pumpkin Lover" to the shimmering pop of "What Do You Think of Love" to the jangling funk of "Free Love Overdrive," no two songs sound even remotely alike, but the album easily hangs together on the strength of the group's complete command of mood and atmosphere. A fittingly great farewell.
4.5 stars

Uncle Tupelo never struck a finer balance between rock and country than on Anodyne, their major-label debut and parting shot. For all of the ill will undoubtedly simmering throughout these sessions, Jay Farrar and Jeff Tweedy have never before been more attuned to each other musically; where earlier records often found the band's twin forces moving in opposing directions, Anodyne bears the full fruits of their shared vision. Recorded live in the studio, the album encompasses and reinterprets not only country-rock (evidenced by the group's pairing with Doug Sahm on his "Give Back the Key to My Heart") but also traditional country (the tribute to the songwriting legacy of "Acuff-Rose"), rock (the churning "The Long Cut," "Chickamauga"), and folk ("New Madrid," "Steal the Crumbs"), the band's reach never once exceeding its grasp.
4.5 stars

As it was produced by XTC's Andy Partridge (who also plays most of the drums), this was Newell's first project to receive any semblance of mainstream media attention in the U.S. What he was presenting, however, differed little in essence from what he'd been doing since Cleaners From Venus started in the early '80s: tuneful pop with heart and clever lyrics that could be joyfully optimistic, whimsically satirical, or dourly cynical. In fact, a few of these songs are remakes of things that Newell had done in the Cleaners days, such as "Home Counties Boy" and the very Kinks-like "A Street Called Prospect" and "Christmas in Suburbia." The production was more in line with state-of-the-art standards, but really the results were no worse or better than on Newell's '80s recordings: less idiosyncratically homespun, perhaps, but more accessible to a wider audience. Playing, as always, like a snapshot of English life, it's the most suitable introduction to Newell's work, not in the least because it's one of his few albums that's reasonably obtainable without a major effort.
4.5 stars

Paul Weller deservedly regained his status as the Modfather with his second solo album, Wild Wood. Actually, the album is only tangentially related to mod, since Weller picks up on the classicism of his debut, adding heavy elements of pastoral British folk and Traffic-styled trippiness. Add to that a yearning introspection and a clean production that nevertheless feels a little rustic, even homemade, and the result is his first true masterwork since ending the Jam. The great irony of the record is that many of the songs -- "Has My Fire Really Gone Out?," "Can You Heal Us (Holy Man)" -- question his motivation and, as is apparent in his spirited performances, he reawakened his music by writing these searching songs. Though this isn't as adventurous as the Style Council, it succeeds on its own terms, and winds up being a great testament from an artist entering middle age. And, it helped kick off the trad rock that dominated British music during the '90s.
4.5 stars

As a response to the dominance of grunge in the U.K. and their own decreasing profile in their homeland -- and also as a response to Suede's sudden popularity -- Blur reinvented themselves with their second album, Modern Life Is Rubbish, abandoning the shoegazing and baggy influences that dominated Leisure for traditional pop. On the surface, Modern Life may appear to be an homage to the Kinks, David Bowie, the Beatles, and Syd Barrett, yet it isn't a restatement, it's a revitalization. Blur use British guitar pop from the Beatles to My Bloody Valentine as a foundation, spinning off tales of contemporary despair. If Damon Albarn weren't such a clever songwriter, both lyrically and melodically, Modern Life could have sunk under its own pretensions, and the latter half does drag slightly. However, the record teems with life, since Blur refuse to treat their classicist songs as museum pieces. Graham Coxon's guitar tears each song open, either with unpredictable melodic lines or layers of translucent, hypnotic effects, and his work creates great tension with Alex James' kinetic bass. And that provides Albarn a vibrant background for his social satires and cutting commentary. But the reason Modern Life Is Rubbish is such a dynamic record and ushered in a new era of British pop is that nearly every song is carefully constructed and boasts a killer melody, from the stately "For Tomorrow" and the punky "Advert" to the vaudeville stomp of "Sunday Sunday" and the neo-psychedelic "Chemical World." Even with its flaws, it's a record of considerable vision and excitement. (The American version of Modern Life Is Rubbish substitutes the demo version of "Chemical World" for the studio version on the British edition. It also adds the superb single "Pop Scene" before the final song, "Resigned.")
4.5 stars

On their impressive debut Road to Freedom, the fiercely political Young Disciples offer muscular funk garnished with jazz, hip-hop and R&B flourishes. The majority of vocals are handled by Carleen Anderson, whose low, smoky voice at times brings to mind the likes of Chaka Khan, Anita Baker and Oleta Adams. The production is clever and unpredictable; gospel organs open "Get Yourself Together" and then fade into the oncoming beats, while airy guitars introduce "Talkin' What I Feel" before pulling a similar about-face when confronted with some surging hip-hop rhythms.
4 stars

That fucking Suede album is up there with the worst music I've ever heard. I get angry thinking about the minutes I wasted on it.
.
.
.
Porno for Pyros Porno for Pyros

On the other hand, I was a big, big Jane's Addiction fan, and that Porno For Pyros record was a major kick in the nuts. Fucking awful.