Making Muslc Happen

Jonathan Trew gets stuck into the new releases

From the same people who enriched our lives with the quintessential summertime sound of ‘Fine Day’ comes Dpus lll’s magnificent ‘When You Made The Mountain‘ (PWL). For your money. you get six versions of Kirsty Hawkshaw‘s ethereal vocals set over pounding dance/trance beats and bubbly bits. Still on a dance theme. but back in Glasgow. Eight Mile lllgh‘s ‘Go 60' (Electric Honey) kicks off with samples from The Good, The Bad And The Ugly then catches a beefy groove and hip hops its way to funk heaven. Speaking of unearthly vibes, Beck’s ‘Pay No Mind (Snoozer)' (Geffen) is a space cadet special of laid-back drawling with surreal lyrics. Very tuneful it is too. unlike the other three tracks on the single which prove conclusively that this man has fried his brain with too many fistfuls of disco biscuits. Meanwhile back at the ranch. rednecks Rev Horton Heat and The Seersuckers have out out a double-A-side with ‘Caliente' and ‘400 Bucks‘ (Sub Pop) respectively. Both tracks drive along frantically and should provoke many a hairyback's wet dream of a moshpit frenzy at student unions throughout the country. 'My God ls Bigger Than Your God’ (Infectious Records) by The Satellite doesn't hold together. but the other two tracks on the CD. ‘The King Is Dead' and ‘Working Class Castles In Candlestick Park’ more than make up for it -— the first being broodineg dark and quietly menacing. the second being more uptempo with some flesh-ripping hooks. Crazy Wisdom offer up five examples of their experimental pop with 'A Death Junkie‘s Last Peep Show' (Crazy Wisdom). Understated vocals laid over an ambient background of mellow pop harmonies are there if that‘s what floats your boat. Meanwhile back at the ranch (part 2), ‘I ain’t looking for trouble, we can ride my party double'

wails Th McCraw on ‘Indian Outlaw' (Curb). Cheesey lyrics combine with a Yosemite Sam moustache to produce a talent which topped the American Billboard 200. Just goes to show that there's no accounting for taste.


Zlngalamadunl (Cooltempo) The nlgga ls oppressed, understands oppression and wallows in it. The Airican is oppressed, understands oppression, but is in a constant struggle to break out oi it. So the latter ls the inundation oi Arrested Development. Critical acclaim oi their debut, ‘Tluee Years, Five Months And Two Days’, was supported by triple- platinum sales and a trunkiul oi awards. ‘Zingalamaduni’ Is not only better but may well prove to be a landmark ior contemporary music. ‘Zingalamaduni’ glides between

tempos and

overilowlng sense at Airican


‘Kneelin’ At My Alter’ and ‘Fountain Di Youth’ will sell the album. Crucially, so-will ‘llnlted Minds’, which talks oi the world as a community. The message Speech urges is not to let

culture die

materiallsrn. Sadly, like all visionaries, they are a minority. But they have a > voice which is articulate and groove-

rldden - ce

they may well prove to be the most important people in the world oi corporate entertainment. (Philip


meanings, pervaded by an

tor the sake oi

rtalnly ahead oi their time,


Ill Communication (Capitol/Grand lloyal) These days, The Beastie Boys are moguls. There’s Grand Royal, their label/lounging headquarters. There’s clothing labels and stores, a magazine (Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers meets Wonder Book Di Pop), all mixed in with acting, snowboarding in Utah, dope and Buddhism. And now, irom the midst oi their Kings oi the Burns ,empire, they slap out the hot and horny wild-ride that is ‘lll Communication’.

There’s proto-liage Against The Machine heavy metal rap on

‘Sabotage’, thrash action with ‘Tough Guy’, Snoop-style iunk lethargy, superin-guy 7Ds wah-wah heat with ‘Sabrosa’, old school hip-hop crank and crunch (‘The Update’), acid-jazz- rap on a ‘Flute Loop’, iree-iorm classical lunacy (‘Eugene’s lament’), and on and on and on. ‘lll Communication’ winds to a close with a vocoded rap in praise oi Buddha (‘Bodhisattva Vow’) and the theme tune to the iunkiest, darkiest, iciest New York cop show never made (‘Transitions’). All over the place and all in your iace, this is the B-Boys digging deeper into the ground- breaking canyon they cracked open with ‘Check Your Head’. (Craig McLean)

FISH Suits (Dick Bros) Knocking Fish is too easy. What is it we’d be knocking him ior, anyway? Hot taking his cues irom Snoop Doggy Dogg or Sensor? Hot sounding like These Animal Men? Sure, his iniluences go back a long way, but Paul Weller’s go back even iurther and nobody’s complained about that ior a while. Yes, but it’s prog-rock that’s Fish’s bag, isn’t it? True, but considering some at the grand lollies embarked on by some oi his heroes, Fish has shown remarkable restraint here.

‘Suits’, as the title implies, is an extended tirade against the reptilian

nemesis sin are let oii c

venomous 0 it’s not ior

things have


(businessmen who have been Fish’s

could read it as a grandiose whinge, but the target at least gives his

Floyd/Genesis touches and who would doubtless recoil irom songs like the , rather shopworn ‘Ho Dummy’ and ‘Jumpsuit City’, but it ends on a couple oi stronger tracks, ‘Bandwagon’ and ‘Raw Meat’, where yer bitter man is (you guessed!) ‘raw meat ior the balcony’. But enough radio play oi tracks like ‘Fortunes Di War’ and Fish could have a surprise V hit on his hands a la ‘Kayleigh’. Fishler

ce day one (DJs and critics omparatlvely lightly). You

utpourlngs a iocus. those who can’t handle

happened, no? (Alastair


The Last Supper (Iona Gold)

In the boom town oi late-80$ Glasgow, when bands were being signed as though there was no tomorrow, Kevin McDermott was in a league oi his own. lnexplicably, though, his splendidly heartielt, oiten anthemic songs were largely overlooked, and McDermott seemed more and more like the Invisible Man oi Scottish liock.

This is the iinal record irom the KMD. Only a six-tracker, it still manages to showcase their strengths. ‘Day In A Coldmine’ oozes melody in the manner

Tennents Live! Making Music Happen

oi Beatles, Byrds or Big Star, and is an ideal opener. 0n ‘Another Hurricane’, Kev’s coasting, but ‘Can’t Tell That To You’ is a weird conjunction oi 02 and The Blue Nile which upsets preconceptions. ‘Too Much To Dream’ inevitably pales beside memories oi its Electric Prunes namesake, but it’s a stirring piece all the same.

In truth, McDermott is iiring only about two-thirds oi his songwriting cylinders here, but the Orchestra could take much weaker material than this and make gold out oi it. ‘All That I Am’ rides on a biting riii by guitarist Marco Bossi, who would never let any group he played ior descend into blandness so long as there was one last gritty lick left in his iingers. A iitting epitaph. (Alastair Mabbott)

42 The List 3—16.lune 1994