From the latest issue of Esquire:
(Yes I'm stirring the pot and The Young Heart Attack Record sounds like it RAWKS!!!!!)
Five Records to Buy Instead of Wilco's
While others debate the brilliance of Americana's it band, spend your timeâ??and moneyâ??more wisely on one of these five CDs
by Andy Langer | Jul 01 '04
You're going to be hearing a lot about Wilco this month, what with all the critical hullabaloo surrounding its much-anticipated new album, A Ghost Is Born. But you won't find much fawning here. Maybe it's just that I prefer the days when Huey Lewis & the News was America's whitest band, but I'm completely indifferent to the Wilco phenomenon. It's not that the band is bad, it's just boring. And while I'd like to tell you about the three months of dust collecting on my advance copy of A Ghost Is Born , I'm afraid that Wilco's fresh-out-of-rehab lead singer, Jeff Tweedy, might come over and snort it.
The good news is that the stack of CDs in my listening pile next to Wilco has turned out to be a gold mine of extraordinary records. Although they cross genres and continents, the following five records are united by the fact that they don't just sound important, they also feel it.
Young Heart Attack, Mouthful of Love (XL Recordings/Beggar's Group): Enough with the Darkness already. It deserves props for anticipating our longing for a new Freddie Mercury, and, yes, it believes in a thing called love, but it'd be nice if the band believed in a thing called songwriting, too. Fortunately, Young Heart Attack doesâ??offering cock-rock, full-monty attitude and impossible-to-deny riffage. And while the Darkness's Justin Hawkins sounds as if he's sucking helium balloons, Young Heart Attack has a singer filled with estrogen; its X-factor is Jennifer Stephens, a second vocalist who breaks up the boy's club with slinky splashes of Motown sass. The result will have you throwing up devil signs at passing cars. As luck would have it, one of the first great rock albums of 2004 may also be the last great album of 1979.
The Streets, A Grand Don't Come for Free (Vice/ Atlantic): Before we groan at the idea of white British rappers making concept records, it's important to note that Mike Skinner (aka the Streets) is pop music's rarest commodity: a singular talent. Implausibly imaginative, Skinner comes to the table with Jonathan Safran Foer's flair for language and Seinfeld's knack for making the mundane fascinating. And so it's little surprise A Grand Don't Come for Free 's glory lies in the minutiae. Across 11 intricately linked songs, Skinner lays out the story of a missing 1,000 pounds, a tale flush with broken televisions, cheap pints, and shitty cell-phone reception. Behind his odd syllable splits and trippy dance beats is good old-fashioned yarn spinning; his gorgeous "Dry Your Eyes" chronicles a lover's rejection with more details than an episode of MTV's Pimp My Ride . Most impressive is how well A Grand Don't Come for Free holds up to repeat listens. Whereas other concept records tend to get old quick, here new plot points reveal themselves with every spin.
Burning Brides , Leave No Ashes (V2): Two years ago, this Philadelphia-based trio's no-budget, homespun debut earned its fair share of comparisons to Nirvana's Bleach . And while news that the Brides would be shaking their moneymakers with high-priced Black Crowes producer George Drakoulis reeked of a sellout, Leave No Ashes has wound up smelling more like a big step up. By matching sonic hugeness with superbly crafted songs, this moody masterpiece confirms the Foo Fighter principle: Bombast and taste aren't mutually exclusive. Better still, the blaze and bluster of tunes like "Heart Full of Black" and the title track authenticate another important point: Shouting at the devil over loud guitars never gets old.
Patty Griffin, Impossible Dream (ATO): The American Idol finale I'd like to have seen would have pitted Emmylou Harris against Patty Griffin. And I'd have put five bucks on Simon Cowell doing the crying. At 40, Griffin has a voice that carries compassion, strength, and struggle. And her songwriting is brilliant on Impossible Dream . From the southern-Gothic blues of "Love Throw a Line" to her snappy repossession of "Top of the World" (a tune Griffin wrote but the Dixie Chicks popularized), there are more than enough vital melodies and vivid details here to hold your attention. If for no other reason, buy it because her "Cold as It Gets" will sound great on your next post-breakup compilation. Any song that ends with "I live only to see you live to regret everything that you've done" is all right by me.
The Cardigans, Long Gone Before Daylight (Koch): On their first collection in six years, these icy Swedes prove their legacy might just amount to more than an early secretary-pop hit (1997's "Lovefool") and a history of kitschy Black Sabbath covers. It's a comeback that rests squarely on leader Nina Persson's golden throat and dark diary; rarely do you hear a voice this exquisite wrapped around love songs so twisted. Sure, there's an almost too cheery slice of domestic violence ("And Then You Kissed Me"), but for my money, that the Cardigans have delivered a comeback this edgy is really sucker punch enough.
