DC Heath looks a bit rugged after the strain of composing The Celtic
Country fest in Glasgow three years ago Woodruff impressed on that occasion, and does so again here on an album which mixes a baSic hard-core country roots sound With a harder rocking undertow on the likes of John Fogei'ty's ’Alniost Saturday Night' (one of three covers on the disc) or his own ‘Out of the Blue.’ (KM)
D.C. Heath/BT Scottish Ensemble
The Celtic (Linn) air *ir at
This is a superb disc collecting Dave Heath's three major works written for the ensemble Heath’s music is Vibrant,
Vital, melodic and pleasingly open to
well-integrated folk and tax?
i influent es, and the ensemble playing IS ext ellent Heath is the soloist in his
'Flute Concerto The Connemara’, while the BTSE's leader, Clio Gould, is
featured in his ‘Violin Concerto The
Celtit’ The Four Elements' (With the poignant Celtic Air" separately
; pi'ot:raininedl (ompletes a very highly recommended (ilS(. (KM)
Thea Musgrave/BBC SSO
Clarinet Concerto (Cala) at at it
The E:lii‘iburt_;h—born composer Thea
hillsfldeC’ conducts the BBC Scottish
Synirhony in three pov.«'ei'itil works
Each reveals a different facet of her 'tiizarnatitabstract principle, in which the .lYili‘lt‘lli tiraiita lics ll‘: the iiiiiSical ,llt'Iixt’S‘r‘s, iatlmi that. an external i,.':=::ia."irne The 'Claiinet Concerto’ iS the purest exai'iple here, S'l)( e ’The Seas’i'ts' is 'rtspired by a group of
{Jr'ill‘illlf;‘), and 'Aiituinn Sonata', a
((‘f‘( ertt: for bass clarinet, by poems, but a‘l three are energised by a
colourful sense of internal struggle and
invention (KM)
HUI
Terry Hall: paying the rent with Ballad Of A Landlord
Belle And Sebastian
Dog On Wheels (Jeepster) it t ‘k ‘k
The sun’s out, the trees are a-
blossoming, but summer won't be truly
here until this song is heard blasting out from every backyard ghettoblaster. Which it should, its hopeless romanticism and vulnerability (and its trumpet solo) guaranteeing it a Number One place in that 'perfect world’ we all like to talk about. A minor epiphany in every line, for Sebastian if not the rest of us. (AM)
Terry Hall
Ballad Of A Landlord (South Sea Bubble Co) **
Well, blow me if that isn’t JarVis Cocker, raking once more through the embers of the past. Nice to see that the elder statesmen of British pop aren't above picking up the odd tip from relative newcomers. In fairness, a fine performance has been coaxed out of Ol’ Tezza here, always a more nakedly emotional chap than his public image led people to believe. (AM)
Prolapse
Killing The Bland (Radar) A A it
As regular readers of this column might have gathered, we think Prolapse are pretty nifty. Like a Mike Leigh radio play soondtracked by The Fall, they boast male and female frontpersons providing a dual perspective on all their songs, which is a neat trick if you can pull it off, and it hasn’t been done this well Since we lost the Au Pairs. This isn’t as harsh as the last Prolapse offering, so other people than JUSi ourselves might actually like it, (AM)
Fish
Brother 52 (Dick Bros) ht
We hope you like his new direction, as Fish goes all phat and phunky on us. There’s still a meaty rock guitar for the old-timers, and the radio edit is structured JUSI like a regular song, but Fish is clearly enraptured by this remixmg business. Unlikely to take the dancefloor by storm, but might shake up the Fish phanbase a bit, which w0u|d be the next best thing. (AM)
Nick Heyward Today (Creation) A Alas, the fondly-remembered Heyward
has moved with the times, ditching his pipe ’n’ slippers for zeitgeist-defining
T spectacle frames He hasn’t lost his
‘MF ,V‘? a
~‘ 5 (i
melodic touch, but in the process of putting together a guitar sound like a swaim of angry Harley Davidsons, he's
KING
definitely lost something. Nick Heyward used to be the best Nick Heyward in the world; now, he's apparently happy with sounding like a second-rate Britpop act. (AM)
Sound Temple
Wonder Plays The Joker/Fresh * f 1r ’Won’t you bury me With Brian Jones,’ plead this Glasgow five-piece by way of perverse opening gambit. Don’t tempt me, boys. Instead, the artists formerly known as Sauce end up stuck in a lift with Jamiroguai, The Black Crowes and Steve Miller. A wah wah whig out that refuses to let up on the funkorneter. (RE)
Subconsaous
Mystical Girl A at
Seven saccharine minutes bragging three middle eights, when most accomplished exponents of the pop song limit themselves to one. If Bacharach, Wilson, Spector et a/ have been erring all this time, somebody should tell them. SubconsCious make Bis sound like hardcore punkers. (RE)
BaHboy
Phctographers/Ashleigh’s Song
* it it 1%
Ballboy are sugar mice and all things nice. Melancholy girl pop that bubbles
record reviews MUSIC
(pleasantly) up your nose and mercifully refuses to indulge in surplus middle eights. A hint of James and the least self-conscious uttering of the words 'and then he kissed me’ since The Shirelles. Lovely. (RE)
Tangerine
Better Late/Liberty *ti
Bluesy Faces’ boogie and suitably throaty gurgle not a million bottles of Listerine removed from yer man from Reef. ’Let me hear you!’ splutters the Singer, transporting the band from King Tut's to Wembley Arena in the blink of a Cyclops. They supported FrUit once you know. (RE)
Laughland
Mrs Mad/Say How You Feel it a: 1k at littering boy bug-eyed rock that surVives an inexplicable bout of cuckoomg one verse in. A feeling of Julian Cope and the Psychedelic Furs with angst to spare. Moody vocals, half-inched riffs (like all the best) and plenty of 'tude, whatever the hell that is. Best art work too -~ the kind of Miro splurge parents proudly display on the fridge door. (RE)
REVIEWERS THIS ISSUE:
Jim Byers, Ellie Carr, Thom Dibdin, Rodger Evans, Eddie Gibb, Alastair Mabbott, Kenny Mathieson, Fiona Shepherd
In an attempt to bypass the London talent scouting circuit, Gut Records (Space, Aswad, Sarah Cracknell . . . ) are looking for people keen to become regional scouts. To find out more, or if you're in a band and want a demo tape heard, contact Simon at: Gut Records, Byron House, 112a Shirland Road. London W9 ZEQ. Tel: 0171 266 0777.
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2-15 May 1997 THE usr 51