This new album by the Cars' driving force, Ocasek, has just about everything you might require. An eye-catching cover design, for example. Catchy rock tunes, of course. In fact, there's really only one thing wrong.
The record should have been closed-captioned for the Ocasek impaired.
His lyrics are so obtuse, you need an interpreter, if not a decoder ring, to translate them. It's nice to see a performer trying to write something beyond "Oooh, baby baby," but what is the meaning of, say, these lines in "Rockaway": "On the raceway/ It's a touché/ Violet stingray/ You got to get out"? Or how about "Dancin' by the sea stars/ Shaking up a shirt/ Throw away your language/ Keep from getting hurt," from "Flowers of Evil"?
This isn't meant to imply Fireball Zone doesn't sound good. As he proved with the Cars, Ocasek can strike a fine balance between melodic pop and driving rock. And here he avoids the moody, synthesizer-driven art rock that made his previous solo albums sputter. Such songs as "Rockaway" (lyrical Sanskrit aside) and "Come Back" are especially Top 40 friendly.
The music here encourages you to sing along. Too bad that much of the time you end up sounding like some sort of space-alien beat poet when you try to chime in. (Reprise)
Morrissey
Go ahead. Make fun of Morrissey for his droning voice, glum lyrics and support of such causes as celibacy or vegetarianism. One detail wins the defense's case: The guy is brilliant.
As a lyric writer, Morrissey has a rare gift for innuendo, rich metaphors and even that pop anathema, complexity. His melodies, often cowritten with band members, can settle into a static monotone, yet on every release he creates at least one song with a fresh twist. As leader of the Smiths, he launched a new pop style with the 1984 hit "How Soon Is Now," notable both for Johnny Marr's shimmering guitar and Morrissey's pun-packed lyrics about loneliness. His 1990 collection of solo singles, Bona Drag, includes other mold breakers.
On his third solo LP, Morrissey (working with Mark E. Nevin, a Fairground Attraction alum) introduces startling material again. The standout, "King Leer," sustains its double meaning as the narrator describes his troubling status as go-between in a love affair, though the affair may actually be his own. Not only does Morrissey stuff self-parody into the lyrics, even the music has a mocking edge. A repeated piano motif played by Steve Heart mimics cheap lounge music.
As always Morrissey writes lyrics that find vitality even in seemingly barren topics. "The Harsh Truth of the Camera Eye" focuses on the sexual and psychological side of photography: "My so friendly lens/ Zooms into/ 'The inner you'/ And it tells the harsh truth/ And nothing but."
Kill Uncle may sound like just more moroseness. But Morrissey is to loneliness what Porter was to high society.
Morrissey pushes his favorite topics to new limits, reaching out for truths most pop songwriters ignore. In "Our Frank," another punfest—this time about the importance of being frank (not earnest)—Morrissey asks sarcastically: "Won't somebody stop me/ From thinking all the time/ About everything/ So deeply/ So bleakly."
Forget it. No one can stop him. This guy is in an introspective and fascinating mood for the long run. (Sire)
Highway 101
Here's to smooth transitions.
Highway 101 has lost its lead singer Paulette Carlson to the lure of a solo career. But think of her departure as a pothole that has been smoothly patched over.
Not only does the group graciously salute Carlson in the liner notes but her replacement, Nikki Nelson (her most recent gigs were as a waitress in Nashville), sings with the same zesty, tough but tuneful delivery.
The similarities in Nelson's style carry over to the vague lack of emotion that characterized Carlson's vocals, but as rockified country groups go, Highway 101 has stayed on track.
Two of the band's veterans, Curtis Stone and Cactus Moser, have writing credits on the album, though the hit title track, by Hugh Prestwood, and the more thoughtful Red Lane-Larry Henley tune "Till I Get It Right" are probably more memorable.
If Carlson gets along as well without the group as they get along with out her, she'll be in fine shape. (Warner Bros.)
Kirsty MacColl
If this record is an indication, going out for ice cream with MacColl must be an exhausting experience. She seems like the type who insists on tasting samples of everything in the place. Certainly, this record has more flavors than you can shake a Creamsicle at.
MacColl, a veteran British singer-songwriter who has had one previous U.S. release, uses everything from Irish folk to American hip hop to Brazilian dance music. While the music is all over the map, two factors provide unifying keys. First is MacColl's hypnotic voice. Thick yet fluid, it bubbles like honey in a microwave. Imagine a kinder, gentler Marianne Faithful.
Then there are the lyrics. MacColl opens up without pretension, whether it's declaring her independence, romantic or otherwise, in "My Affair" or kissing off lovers who never respected her feelings ("All I Ever Wanted" and "He Never Mentioned Love").
A lot of albums try to be all things to all people. Few ever connect the way Electric Landlady does. In a music world that too often never gets past vanilla, Kirsty MacColl is a regular Baskin-Robbins. (Charisma)
>"I WISH YOU WERE A BEER" CYCLE SLUTS FROM HELL Think of the Go-Go's after five years in prison, and you get an idea what this high-speed, no-brain rocker is like. From Cycle Sluts from Hell (Epic)
"BETTER" THE SCREAMING JETS Known for power pop, not ballads, this skull-crunching Aussie band finds a compromise in this catchy single. From All for One (rooArt/Mercury)
"MORNING PAPERS" VANGELIS The synth master retools Twin Peaks composer Angelo Badalamenti's bent, beatnik style. Very continental; very cool. From The City (Atlantic)
- Contributors:
- Craig Tomashoff,
- Michael Small,
- Ralph Novak.
Saved by the Bell Reunion
The hookups, the meltdowns, the memoires
The case reveals what was really going on what they think of each other now!
