LONGBEARD – The Tide

Not so much a band as a project for multi-talented writer/musician/producer David Burns, Longbeard’s debut EP by California band pulls together various influences.  Augmented by Shane Bordeau on bass and saxophones, Burns’s compositions feature a whole bunch of electronic elements, but Longbeard is not really an electronic outit, since such sounds are often blended with a cinematic indie-pop feel.

Due to a very commercial edge, ‘On Our Way’ provides a strong opening number (barring the short intro piece).  The music itself has a very multi-layered feel and thanks to great production it’s easy to hear the separation between each of the elements. The guitars jangle pleasantly and the bass and drums have a strong presence which never dominates.  The best feature here is the vocal, which is high and breathy in the lead role, while processed and treated in various looped backing parts.  It may be the best feature, but it’s not especially original; you’ll have heard various other bands tinker with similar musical soundscapes throughout the late 00’s.  For an easy comparison, it’s not unlike Team Me’s more restrained offerings.  It might be fair to say that since Team Me raised the bar with regard to vocal/choir-led indie pop, it’s not as good.  However, for what it offers, it’s still very enjoyable.  The vocal arrangements are also dominant throughout the title cut, where Longbeard tinker with Arcade Fire style wanderings.  Placing the vocal against backwards electronic loops helps round out the overall sound, but in terms of actual music, this isn’t as well-rounded as ‘On Our Way’, despite a few strong moments.

‘Now We Are’ finds a space within a very summery groove.  Programmed drums lead the way, and over the course of five minutes, the collection of ringing guitars, warm bass, heavily filtered vocals and synths carry the listener far away.  Imagine parts of The Avalanches’ ‘Since I Met You’ reworked and smoothed out by Royksopp and you’ll start to get the picture.  It builds slowly and gets a little busier as it moves along, but never becomes too intrusive or particularly tiresome.  Towards the end, rhythm guitars flesh out the sound and stay the course until the inevitable fade out.  With regard to electronic based music that’s more active than mere ambient noise but enjoyable in most surroundings, this is a great example of how to get it right.  In contrast, ‘And Now I Know’ eschews electronic leanings in favour of guitar based indie-rock.  The rhythm guitars are relentless throughout, while lead guitars provide not always tune-based squeals and vibrato.  As with ‘On Our Way’ all vocals are multi-tracked and over processed – often repeating the one line “I’ve seen it all and now I know”, sometimes forward, sometimes backwards.  Also – again like ‘On Our Way’ – more than slight comparisons with Arcade Fire are evident.

Recorded on a reasonable budget and by a man who clearly knows his way around a studio ‘The Tide’ sounds great for a DIY release. Comparing ‘And Now I Know’ with ‘Now We Are’, it could be the work of two different bands; which side of Longbeard’s work  you’ll prefer is purely down to personal taste.  Due to a lack of originality, Longbeard’s work is good rather than great, but each of the four main tracks from ‘The Tide’ has something to offer the potential listener.  The EP is worth investigating even if only for ‘Now We Are’.

You can download the EP on a “pay what you want” basis from the widget below.

September 2011

NICKELBACK – Here And Now

After their breakthrough hit ‘How You Remind Me’, Nickelback trod a safe path, trotting out a few more albums of solid post-grunge tunes.  In 2008, teaming up – at least in part – with legendary producer Mutt Lange, the band released ‘Dark Horse’, an album on which Chad Kroeger and co sounded awesome in terms of studio crunch.  Packing a bigger punch than ever, it’s a pity to say the least that ‘Dark Horse’ was ultimately spoilt – almost beyond redemption – by Kroeger’s appalling, very sexist “party-hard” lyrical stance.

Much like ‘Dark Horse’, lyrics aside, 2011’s ‘Here and Now’ features a couple of cracking tunes.  Never was this any more evident than on ‘This Means War’, a juggernaut of a rock song with a hugely unsubtle riff to match. A hugely expensive production job really sharpens the edges on a heavy, slightly downtuned riff which grabs the listener by the neck from the word go.  Beyond the riff, Nickelback offer more musical goodies on this opening statement – the bass is about as solid as it gets, and the lead vocal comes with a ton of grit.  There’s a reasonable chorus too; maybe not as instant as few of the band’s radio-staples, but it’s one which suits the uncompromising nature of the material in hand.  It’s one of Nickelback’s heaviest tunes and one which proves them a force to be reckoned with.  Drinking song ‘Bottoms Up’, too, offers a fabulous – if rather simplistic – riff, decent solo and rousing chorus.  It’s slightly lighter than ‘This Means War’, but still about as subtle as a sledgehammer.  It may sound a little like a ‘Dark Horse’ leftover, but it’s one of ‘Here and Now’s better numbers. Based on this pair of tunes, Nickelback really ought to consider wielding their heavier tendencies more often.   Despite going in with all guns blazing, going beyond these first couple of songs, the cracks – somewhat predictably – begin to appear.

Three years after ‘Dark Horse, you’d hope that Chad Kroeger had got his sexual hang-ups out of his system, but it appears that – at least on occasion – very little has changed.  On ‘Midnight Queen’ he trots out such bilge as “She my midnight queen / she’s gonna lick my pistol clean” and “Lay that body on her bottom and dump that salt on her hips / I was lyin’ when I told her that I’m only gonna  liquor tonight”– lyrics so unashamedly awful, they could rival ‘Dark Horse’’s indelible imagery of being ridden like a tractor and sex-games with jelly.  Still, if Chad Kroeger insists on getting his lyrics from KISS’s dustbin, should we have expected any different?  It’s a shame such vulgarity spoils a reasonable musical arrangement, with another fantastic sounding bottom end from Mike Kroeger’s bass…

A badly arranged piece, ‘Kiss It Goodbye’ would have benefitted no end from having a more danceable groove, but it’s so, so laboured that it achieves nothing beyond about thirty seconds in. The chorus makes no real impression either and the verses lumber past like they’re being dragged forcibly.  This is so un-natural – even by previous Nickelback standards – it makes the kind of lightweight radio-fodder of ‘When We Stand Together’ sound half decent.  Sounding like something from any number of Nickelback albums, the latter typifies the kind of thing the band could have written in their sleep.  The electric guitars mesh politely with the acoustics, while Chad tries his best to sound like he’s not just going through the motions with dollar signs in his eyes.  A simple “yeah, yeah, yeah” on the chorus screams hit; for those who love Nickelback, it’s commercial sheen will be appealing…but for the band’s many detractors, it just represents yet another voyage into safe radio territory .  If you’re not a fan, you’ll hate this song as much as you probably hate ‘Rockstar’ or ‘How You Remind Me’.

Of the band’s soft side ‘Don’t Ever Let It End’ celebrates good times over a marching beat, with an occasional hint of new-country.  It’s a better example of the band’s instantly accessible side; the melodies are strong, the chorus stronger still.  Although you’ll have heard similar styled material from the band many times, this track is one of ‘Here and Now’s shining lights.  ‘Lullaby’, meanwhile, does exactly what it says on the tin.  Like ‘When We Stand Together’, the blend of electric and acoustic guitars is textbook Nickelback, except here they’re augmented by occasional piano.  Old curly-head does his best to sound sensitive – as sensitive as one is able with the assistance of autotune, of course – while musically the rest of the band settles for hugely predictable stadium rock, lighters in the air balladry.  It would be wrong to say this was objectionable by any standards, but you’ll have heard far better from many other rock bands…including Nickelback.

Has there ever been a more frustrating band? Based on the kind of riffs which drive ‘This Means War’ and ‘Bottoms Up’, Nickelback could be great…but instead of concentrating on such riff-driven awesomeness, they insist on filling huge chunks of their albums with relatively boring drivel or loading up their songs with lyrical crassness.  It’s a criminal waste of potential talent from all concerned.  The best bits of ‘Here and Now’ are fantastic, but as always with Nickelback, they’re few and far between.

November 2011

MUTINY MUTINY – Constellation

Formed in 2009, Seattle’s Mutiny Mutiny is an art-rock/post rock trio. For an independent release, the production values on their debut album ‘Constellation’ are fantastic, demonstrating a “live in the studio” vibe, which breathes a real sense of energy into the band’s material. The musical structures lean towards the angular and occasionally spawling (although any sprawling tendencies are often more muscular than the works of Slint – of which there is a strong influence throughout this release) and the musicians themselves are well-rounded, with all vocal duties shared. Each of these factors gives ‘Constellation’ a very strong foundation. Each of the eleven tracks show strength and while the band’s sound mightn’t be wholly original, when the material is as good as it often is here (and it is very good indeed), that doesn’t matter so much.

Opening the album is a number which showcases the band’s darkest edge. ‘A Movie Without a Plot’s grinding, oppressive nature borrows a little of its style from Slint, with a key difference that Mutiny Mutiny don’t drag it out over a prolonged duration. If you’re looking for a memorable hook you won’t find one here (not even hiding away, waiting to be discovered on subsequent listens); this is absolutely about maximum attitude and about Jenn Schmidt’s absolutely awesome Melvins-esque bassline, which never gets dull even though it is left to drive the piece with a relative bottom-end simplicity. A definite highlight, ‘Flight’ begins with another great bassline, before the band break a spiky, mid-paced riff, sounding somewhere between ‘Drums and Wires’ era XTC and the works of Robert Pollard. This is intercut with a slower section, with vocal contributions from all three band members. This recurs throughout, but never really sounds like a chorus; the whole piece has a disjointed feeling, yet somehow avoids incoherence.

‘Oil and Water’ is at a faster pace compared to most of the band’s material. A simpler arrangement is key here; when combined with a dual male/female vocal, the all round punchiness is extremely effective. The drumming is tight and the slightly discordant guitar parts have a absolutely fantastic tone. A mid section moves things away from Wedding Present/Fall territory and back towards more familiar Sonic Youth-isms. Naturally, this loses some of the energy and momentum, but even then, Schmidt’s bass sound remains awesome, so the shift isn’t entirely unwarranted. Another upbeat offering, ‘Close of Business’ has a fractured lyric regarding the everyday grind of office work, a one line refrain of “there will always…always be another one” is designed to stick in your head as quickly as possible. Musically, the track is rooted in the post-rock territory once again, this time with a touch of Wire in its delivery. The bass has clean tone and the guitars are at once sharp and distorted, which sounds quirky when used to back what’s often a spoken delivery, while Marc Mazique’s drums wind things up to wonderful levels of tautness.

The title cut alternates between Sonic Youth styled indie rock (featuring a naturalistic vocal from Jason Dean) and a drum-lead chorus, topped by more aggressive shouting. Both aspects work well for the band, especially when linked by slightly distorted guitar lines. There’s a sense this this was created by a welding together of a couple of unfinished ideas, but it works well enough. ‘The Damage Is Done’ brings one of the album’s best hooks, making great use of a repeated sung line pitched against couple of shouted lines; musically, it doesn’t offer much you haven’t heard Mutiny Mutiny deliver previously, but once again, the distorted guitar sounds and naturalistic approach are incredibly enjoyable.

‘Some Fresh Disaster’ begins with an over-driven jangle which,with its denser tone and more rhythmic style, sticks out more than Mutiny Mutiny’s denser approach. While this stays the course, the other elements within this number revert to the rather more typical. Before long Schmidt’s bass puts in a bigger presence and the structure of the music becomes more angular. Of greatest interest, though, is the song’s coda which captures the trio singing in a three-part harmony, as opposed to their preferred “singing over each other” approach. It’s one of the album’s most melodic moments, and the sound of those voices is just as welcome as the arty, grinding stuff.

In the first half of 2011, 90s alternative revivalists Yuck gained a truckload of press (and fairly, since the 90s alternative sound was definitely due a revival), but honestly, Mutiny Mutiny are far more interesting.  In summary, if you like Sonic Youth, Cay, Sleater-Kinney or Slint, you owe it to yourselves to seek out this band. Now.

October 2011

LOU REED & METALLICA – Lulu

When it was first announced that legendary metal band Metallica were to collaborate with the even more legendary Lou Reed on a studio project, eyebrows were raised.  Aside from both having a fairly uncompromising approach to music, neither artist had much in common: Reed, a consummate story-teller, has recorded a body of works which rely on the wordiness and on the small details, while Metallica occupy the other end of the scale, often being about the big and brash.  And yet, these strange bed-fellows embarked on a shared musical journey which, if Lou Reed is to be believed, would effectively end all musical journeys.  In a pre-release interview – amid a great amount of hype – Reed claimed the project spawned the best music he’d ever recorded. He went a step farther, suggesting ‘Lulu’ – the Loutallica album – was “maybe the best thing done by anyone, ever”.

Listening to the end product, let us assume this earlier remark was a great example of Reed’s dry wit.  ‘Lulu’, obviously, is not the best album in the world, set to eclipse every other work in history – how could it be?  In a few glimpses of (usually ragged) glory, however, this combination of world-class metal band and groundbreaking songwriter prove a force to be reckoned with.  Aside from those flashes of greatness, ‘Lulu’ is rather ugly and sometimes self-indulgent.   Even with Metallica’s sense of musical tightness, ‘Lulu’ is (mostly) not as tuneful is could have been…but that’s not to say there aren’t hidden gems within its sprawling ninety-plus minutes.

As ‘Brandenburg Gate’ begins, acoustic strumming (sounding a little like tuning up, it could be said) coupled with Reed’s instantly recognisable tones – it’s easy to cast your mind back to Reed’s late 80s/early 90s work.  This is particularly the case once he throws the listener in at the deep end lyrically, with the typically uncompromising sentiment “I could cut my arms and tits off when I think of Boris Karloff and Kinski, on the dark of the moon”.  Lou was never one to hold back lyrically and upon first hearing, this appears to be no exception.  Before long, Metallica join the arrangement with a heavy-ish, slow riff, over which Reed is forced to raise his voice.  Once he does so, his narrative delivery becomes less natural and his voice wobbles all over the place, barely hitting any right notes. With the music being such a dominant force, it’s not always so easy to hear his lyric and that’s a pity.  James Hetfield’s backing vocal is less forthright than many of his best performances and sounds hopelessly out of place against Reed.  Interestingly, even though the collective musicians have already gone to great lengths to persuade us this release does not sound like a Metallica album fronted by Reed, ‘Brandenburg Gate’ actually sounds halfway like you’d expect [unless, of course, you’re so ignorant of Reed’s career, you were dumb enough expect ‘Lulu’ to sound like ‘Satellite of Love’ and ‘Perfect Day’ beefed up with guitar riffs].

When samples of ‘The View’ appeared online some weeks before the album’s release, Metallica fans took to the discussion boards, asking if – and in some cases, hoping – those samples weren’t the real deal.  They hoped the sounds they were hearing were leaked for a joke, Ben Folds style.  It was not a joke; clearly most of ’em just don’t “get” Lou.  And although it was almost universally disliked by Metallica’s fan-base, ‘The View’ is actually far better than ‘Brandenburg’s Gate’.  For starters, Reed sounds more comfortable when he doesn’t have to complete with Hetfield’s growl.  The approach taken here, whereby Reed sings verses and Hetfield takes on chorus duties, is an effective one.  What’s more, the dark side of Reed’s song writing is given a whole new dimension when backed by Metallica’s hard-rock/metal approach.  With the aid of a slow, pounding riff which sounds like ’Tallica taking on a Black Sabbath classic, it’s so much easier to feel threatened by Reed when he starts insisting he is “the aggressor”.  Tales of suicide are nothing new in Reed’s work, but here, the topic takes on a much darker mantle.  Undoubtedly, the more small-minded among Metallica’s fan base will prefer it once Reed is quiet; if so, they at least should get some enjoyment during the number’s coda: the music speeds up a little – in keeping with “classic” Metallica – and Kirk Hammett takes centre stage for a reasonable solo.   It may have been panned, but ‘The View’ is actually one of ‘Lulu’s better offerings.

With ‘The View’ upping the ante a tad in terms of listening pleasure, things slacken off with ‘Pumping Blood’, with an uncompromising approach, that’s far too intense.  Following some grinding strings, Reed repeats the words “pumping blood” several times over a huge riff which fits somewhere between a march and a chug. His voice is atonal, and he sounds less natural; with the arrival of more lyrics, things really don’t improve much, since Reed sounds unsettled, perhaps way outside his comfort zone; it could even be said he sounds as if he’s free forming.  The only parts of this track which really work are the quiet atmospheric moments when the down-tuned riffs take a back-seat, and Lou takes a more typical approach to his work.  The rumbling bass lines, with drums and guitar vibrato/feedback set a great tone– providing a decent atmosphere for Lou’s almost spoken delivery.  Reed’s lyrics are slightly disturbing though, dealing with stabbings and prostitution – and even an unsubtle reference to inter-racial blow-jobs.  Over seven and a half minutes, the intensity of the music – and especially Reed’s lyric – becomes a listening endurance, but among the turmoil, those quieter parts aren’t completely void of charm.

The most striking thing about ‘Mistress Dread’ is it’s brutal riff.  On this number, Metallica play faster and harder than they have since their youth, tackling something which is cut from similar cloth to ‘Fight Fire With Fire’ (though obviously not as good).  Given such an intense musical backdrop, Reed should have been more in the zone than he ever is. His vocal, an absolute mismatch… wailing and crooning like a drunken old man; he has no regard for the pace or style of the music – just carelessly throwing out vocal lines whenever he sees fit.  Speaking the words of the album’s abused heroine, Reed utters lines such as “put a bloody gag to my teeth, I want you to degrade me”, which are  potentially shocking, even by Reed’s previous standards – but fact is, most of the lyrics are hard to decipher due to Reed’s woeful, woeful performance.  If his cover of ‘Peggy Sue’ represented a career nadir, then this must come pretty close.  Unlike ‘Pumping Blood’ this track can’t even create a perverse sense of pleasure.   If Metallica had any sense, they’d ask for their riff back and reuse it on something better.

If not for another monster riff, everything about ‘Iced Honey’ would sound like a Lou Reed solo outing.  Reed makes a better attempted at stretching his vocal – although still never quite manages anything resembling actual singing – and the arrangement is pleasantly upbeat.  While not as interesting as some of the other works scattered around the album, this is certainly a welcome distraction.  It’s important to have a reprieve from the ugly, darker elements on offer, and ‘Iced Honey’ brings a little lightness to the otherwise leaden album.  It’s perkier nature helps wash away the foul aftertaste left by ‘Mistress Dread’.  Although one of ‘Lulu’s most accessible numbers, there’s still ample room for improvement: for starters, it could do without Hetfield’s backing vocal, which is mildly distracting with its “recorded live to tape” looseness.  While such an approach is normal for Mr Reed, coming from Hetfield it just sounds like a rough demo take.  The hugely atmospheric ‘Little Dog’ is one of ‘Lulu’s most minimalist offerings.  Taking a spacious bluesy tone, Reed speaks over guitar reverb and acoustic riffs which sound like the roots a film score.  Stark and almost ambling in nature, the piece has a great musical emptiness. It’s especially fitting for Reed’s cold tone as he takes on the role of failure and weakness – the dog an unsubtle metaphor somebody easily dominated.  While the number shows Reed in a far more natural setting, Metallica’s contribution is practically non-existent – Reed could, in fact, have recorded the number prior to these sessions with a pick up band; most of the listening audience would be none the wiser.

‘Cheat on Me’ has an extended intro featuring string sounds and what sounds like electronic experimentation; it teases the listener by suggesting it’ll build to something grand.  In reality, that intro offers three-and-a-half minutes’ worth of directionless twaddle, followed by another minutes’ worth of the same twaddle accompanied by Reed repeating the line “why do I cheat on me?”  It could be said that Rob Trujillo’s bass noodlings have a pleasing warm sound, but that’s no reason for this style wanton self-indulgence (whether the band think of ‘Lulu’ as art or not). From this point on, Lars Ulrich marks a simple beat, while Hammett and Hetfield play staccato riffs.  Reed’s vocal improves a little once he makes it into the real meat of the number, but this is weakened by Hetfield’s occasional counter vocal which takes up the “cheat on me” line which even Reed eventually gave up on.  In truth, this number is bad – eleven and a half minutes of bad in all, none of which offer anything remotely interesting.  Metallica fans may welcome Hetfield’s presence back at the mic, but honestly, it’s a terrible performance.  It’s nowhere near as excruciating as ‘Mistress Dread’, though – it’s just overlong and serves no real point.  ‘Frustration’ is better, thanks to Metallica delivering the goods, riff-wise.  Lou winds up the tension lyrically, his voice spouting words which sound like an open letter.  If the track used this technique constantly it could have been superb, but it’s let down by huge sections of vaguely avant-garde material; for these Reed rants over a squealing string noise, or over Ulrich’s drums, which are bashed with an improvisational quality.  The ranting may be effective when given gravitas by Metallica’s full-on chug, but without, it’s ugly and directionless (or ‘artistic’, depending on your viewpoint; either way, best avoided).  The fast riff at the end helps create goodwill, but it’s really not enough – especially when you consider Metallica could have taken this route more often.

‘Dragon’ is incredibly difficult at first.  Reed shouts over various ugly guitar effects and even uglier clanging chords for almost three minutes.  With the arrival of Metallica, however, it turns on its head.  The riff is fantastic: like something the band would have recorded back in their ‘…And Justice For All’ days (with added bass, naturally).  The relatively straight-ahead chug represents almost everything you’ve ever loved about Metallica.  Even the angular, tortured lead guitar lines – presumably Reed’s musical contribution – don’t even diminish such a monolithic riff.  Reed’s vocal could have sounded a little out of step, but he’s actually given it more thought than before; shouting and speaking his lines in an bitter, angry manner which fits the music reasonably well.  Skip past the torturous intro and this quickly becomes another of ‘Lulu’s most rewarding listens.

After a brief droning intro, ‘Junior Dad’ settles into a groove which would befit many of Metallica’s ballads, potentially their most commercial music since ‘Nothing Else Matters’ back in 1991. The lyrics are said to have made members of Metallica cry, but none of Reed’s words here are anywhere near as touching as the thoughtful musical arrangement they have been given.  James’s rhythm guitar work adopts an absolutely gorgeous clean tone, while Lars’s drumming has a solid, yet far subtler tone than usual.  Six minutes in, the drones reappear – with Reed wailing over the top for a minute or so – and, naturally, this loses the momentum.  When Metallica are eventually allowed to re-find themselves a couple of minutes after the wailing, they pick up where they left off:  even by the time they decide to take the already great arrangement and beef it up, it honestly loses none of its power.  At ten minutes in, the tune vanishes completely and the orchestra – which had previously provided those intermittent drones – takes centre stage…to do nothing special; in fact, that orchestra does almost nothing at all!  The best part of the next ten minutes is best described as ambient orchestral minimalism.  Metallica should have been allowed to fill that time with variants on their brilliantly arranged, rather understated tune.  There’s a fantastic six minute edit of this almost twenty minute epic just begging to be made.  To say this track allows the listener to forgive ‘Lulu’s previous wrongs would be a huge stretch, but by the time Metallica hit their stride here, the ugliness of Loutallica’s previous musical mistakes at least begins to fade.

So, who exactly is this album’s target audience?  It’s far too “Metallica” for most of Lou’s fan-base, while the presence of Reed is enough to leave most metal fans cold.  For those open minded enough to actually like both Metallica and Lou Reed – and yes, such people do exist – it’s probably fair to say ‘Lulu’s complexities straddle a fine line between interesting and bewildering (while taking in various excursions via frustrating and appalling).  It’s funny: even though ‘Lulu’ has a fair amount of unlistenable qualities, it’s still not quite either party’s worst work.  Among hugely acclaimed albums, Reed has recorded some utter cack over the years, stuff that’s potentially less interesting than this; also, very little on ‘Lulu’ reaches the “recorded in a shed using a biscuit tin for a drum kit” awfulness of Metallica’s ‘St. Anger’.  At least the end sound of ‘Lulu’ has some uniqueness, a certain presence and a sense of pushing the odd boundary.

Many of you will hate ‘Lulu’, while some may be intrigued by its twisted darkness and Reed’s uncompromising, somewhat perverse style.  However, it’s hard to imagine anybody sane believing most of this to be among either Reed or Metallica’s best works, or actually wanting to listen to ‘Lulu’ very often.  Regardless of the ugly intensity which makes its mark on most of this release, it’s fair to say, both artistic parties should be commended on trying to break new ground so far into their combined careers – even if, at times, that equates to minimal listening pleasure.

October 2011

JANE’S ADDICTION – The Great Escape Artist

Over the course of three releases between 1987 and 1990, Jane’s Addiction changed the face of alternative music. Perry Farrell’s distinctive – sometimes studio treated – vocals and Dave Navarro’s swirling guitar riffs had a distinctive style between them which was almost unique. Stephen Perkins’s ability to fuse rock, funk and jazz drum parts seamlessly only added to the mix of interesting sounds within the band’s repertoire. With so much going on, it was sometimes easy to overlook bassist Eric Avery’s contributions, but even those showcased a great amount of style, be they rock oriented (‘Mountain Song’) or more atmospherically inclined (‘Three Days’, ‘Then She Did…’).

The band’s third album ‘Ritual Do Lo Habitual’ (released in August 1990) is so earth shattering – and ground breaking in a rock sense – it’s become somewhat of a benchmark for the various works each band member has committed to tape since, either as part of Jane’s sporadic reunions, or as part of other projects. Naturally, if you approach 2011’s ‘The Great Escape Artist’ expecting lots of similar magic, chances are you’ll find yourselves feeling a tad underwhelmed. Face it, even Jane’s Addiction at full power aren’t likely to reach those levels of creativity ever again. It is fair to say, however, that ‘The Great Escape Artist’ is infinitely more interesting than 2003’s ‘Strays’. Although ‘Strays’ was a great rock record caked in guitar riffs and overdrive, Jane’s Addiction were always capable of far more than that album delivered. ‘The Great Escape Artist’ brings back a little more of their mellow experimentation, which alone makes it a bit more diverse than ‘Strays’, but it never quite takes such experiments far enough. On the plus side, this album in no way sounds like a reworking of anything the band have done before; on the negative, Navarro’s input is often too understated. In fact, ‘The Great Escape Artist’ sounds more like a work featuring members of Jane’s Addiction than a wholly “Jane’s Addiction” work…if that makes sense.

‘Underground’ sets things off with a big fuzzy riff delivered with a distinctly mid pace. Farrell’s vocals are very filtered (as is often the case) and the whole vibe is confident, as you’d expect. In terms of riffing, it’s not as choppy as ‘Stop!’ or ‘Ain’t No Right’, or as blatently “rock out” as most of the tunes from ‘Strays’, but even so, still maintains a presence. Although it has an unshakeable sound, it isn’t especially striking on first listen. A few plays later and some of the less obvious textures begin to present themselves. Navarro is on hand with a distinctive solo with a few harsher notes which add just enough flair. Not totally classic, but a solid opening gambit, during which the riff is all…and in some ways, that’s all there needs to be – it’s best not to peak too soon. However, while that riff is one of the album’s biggest, long-term fans ought not to expect too much here. Regarding most of his playing during these sessions, Navarro had said that his “approach became more melodic and simplistic…”, while also adding the disclaimer he was “not doing tons and tons of overdriven rhythm guitar tracks, and not a hell of lot of soloing that doesn’t add to the melodic nature of a track”. As the album progresses, this becomes extremely evident. With regard to presence, from here on – and without his trademark overdrive – Navarro certainly takes very much a back seat on most of these recordings.

‘End To The Lies’ follows with a similar stompiness, with the intensity taken up just a notch. Navarro’s reverbed rhythm guitar parts echo some of his (quieter) work with his Panic Channel project, while his occasional lead lines are among the album’s more prominent. As with ‘Underground’, Farrell’s voice adopts a lower key than most of his performances with Jane’s back in the day; the less distinctive, slightly deeper registers present (during the refrain, particularly) present a vocal sound which, surprisingly, harks back to his pre-Jane’s days with goth/alt-rock band Psi Com. A rumbling bass riff backed with simple drumming (with hi-hat flourishes) kicks off ‘Curiosity Kills’. Its basis could be any number of post-millennial alternative rock numbers, and while the sound isn’t typically Jane’s Addiction-esque, that doesn’t necessarily make it weak. Farrell’s vocals are subjected to a truckload of studio trickery, but no amount of trickery grabs the attention like a bassline which sounds like a truck! Things lighten up for the chorus where a piano accompaniment provides a nice touch. It’s got more of an air of early-mid 80s U2 than Jane’s (‘New Years Day’ and ‘The Unforgettable Fire’ spring instantly to mind). Although it’s at the safe end of alt-rock – possibly inspired by Farrell’s own Satellite Party project – its end sound manages to be incredibly pleasing, despite the lack of obvious lead guitar chops. The band is lucky here that their musical arrangement carries some gravitas, since the chorus sounds somewhat rushed… Dave Navarro eventually gets to step up his game as the number pulls to a close, offering a couple of reasonable guitar leads, but compared some of his past works, he barely warms up.

More mid-paced riffs cut through the centre of ‘Irresistible Force’, a great tuneful rocker. Navarro’s lead guitar, once again, seems more rooted in rhythms and general weightiness as opposed to the edgy lead style we know he’s capable; instead the bulk of the tune is either carried through Farrell’s lead voice or swirly keyboards (some very old fashioned mellotrons, possibly). In some ways, the commercial easiness of this number made it the perfect choice for a single, but in others, it’s not exactly classic, “maximum thrills” style Jane’s Addiction.

In pre-release interviews, the band stated ‘The Great Escape Artist’ featured a lot of material which ventured into uncharted musical territory for Jane’s Addiction. Listeners may have taken that to mean the band had pushed new boundaries (like Farrell’s drum and bass experiments on his 2001 solo ‘Song Yet To Be Sung’, for example), but here, the new territory is in the adult, radio-friendly rock vein. As with parts of ‘Curiosity Kills’, ‘I’ll Hit You Back’ and ‘Twisted Tales’ both drive the band in a more commercial direction. It may not be edgy, but even in such relatively easy-going pop/rock vein, Jane’s still sound superb. ‘I’ll Hit You Back’ (finally, a song named after Farrell’s music publishers!) is, perhaps, the accessible track the band has ever recorded. Navarro’s rhythm guitars jangle and very much drive the tune, while Perkins’s drum lines have a breezy, almost pre-programmed quality. With regard to the song itself, it’s a great, sunny piece – the closest ‘Escape Artist’ gets to being sing-along. In truth, the alt-rock sound here – coupled with the album’s most obvious chorus – would make it a better single than ‘Irresistible Force’; it’s literally screaming for radio play. ‘Twisted Tales’ takes the commercialism and moves away from the “pop” chorus (remember, pop is not a swear word); here, a world of swirly keyboards and programmed bass awaits the listener. There’s a distinct goth-pop edge underneath Farrell’s treated vocal, but perhaps the most interesting aspect of this track is Navarro’s guitar sound. It takes its usual backseat throughout, but when it decides to raise its head into Farrell’s world of slightly new wavish pomposity, it takes on a retro twang that’s unlike anything Navarro has played on record before.

‘Ultimate Reason’ (the first of three tracks to feature a Duff McKagan co-writing credit) brings back some more obvious rock stylings by way a slightly chuggy guitar riff. Unlike ‘Underground’ though, the band delivers more here than just riffs, as an Eastern musical motif helps give things the necessary lift. Those Eastern elements are more accessible and less pronounced than the Morrocan style waltz which powered ‘Of Course’ (from ‘Ritual De Lo Habitual’); even more importantly, this is also far, far more tuneful. In terms of musical arrangement this isn’t as striking as it could have perhaps been, but Jane’s Addiction put their own stamp on it well enough. It’s certainly well arranged enough to pull fans in for repeated listens. ‘Splash a Little Water On It’ combines a little psychedelic dreaminess with some already familiar sounding, mid-paced grooves. Navarro’s clean guitar work rings out above an Eric Avery style bassline and the general familiarity of the sound suits Farrell’s vocal immensely. The keyboard washes echo the mellotron sound once again and although the band sound great, there’s a feeling they could have used a little more imagination in the arrangement depot. It’s pleasant enough, for sure, but pales significantly compared to the band’s previous atmospheric works. Still, it’s much better than ‘Broken People’, which brings a mid-paced, mid-power riff, which then ambles for four minutes, never really going anywhere. Farrell’s vocal is distinctly Farrell, but beyond that, this could be the work of any number of faceless bands out there. If ‘The Great Escape Artist’ has a weak link among it’s (often) less instant tunes, this would most definitely be it.

The album finishes with ‘Words Right Out of My Mouth’, possibly the album’s only real no-nonsense rocker. Another co-write with Duff McKagan, this track has a slight trashiness, albeit in a good way. There’s a huge nod to Velvet Revolver in its rhythms and outright paunchiness. The rockier edge puts this number in line with most of the grooves which filled the band’s ‘Strays’ disc eight years previously, but it’s better than a good few of those. Stephen Perkins drives most of the track with a great rock drum line (although it’s sorely lacking any of his distinctive funky fills), while Navarro tips the hat to some of his previous overdriven guitar riffs. In all, it’s not the best number on this album by any means, but the stormy performances help finish the album on an upbeat note.

As an album which isn’t big on choruses, ‘The Great Escape Artist’ requires a few spins in order to properly get to grips with even its best material. Most of its style isn’t always very representative of what this band can do when they’re firing on all cylinders, and it’s relative lack of obvious edginess – and Navarro’s understated contributions throughout – makes it somewhat of a slow-burner. It’s certainly not ‘Ritual de lo Habitual’ or ‘Nothing’s Shocking’, but then it was never likely to be. Whereas in the 80s, Jane’s either liked to rock with hard choppy riffs or pull their audiences through mellow psychedelic pastures, here, their music never reaches for either extreme. Most of the time, it occupies an alternative rock space somewhere betwixt, which in many ways, it has more in common with Farrell’s poppy Satellite Party. It may be relatively safe – and it’s certainly very commercial in places – but those willing to accept the music on its own terms will certainly enjoy what’s on offer.

When such a cult band puts out new material after a lengthy hiatus, there’s always a worry they just won’t cut it anymore. ‘The Great Escape Artist’ mightn’t please everyone with its lack of distinction between the rock and atmospheric elements, but since it actually has an atmospheric vibe, even the weakest parts of the album could be better than anything Perry Farrell or Dave Navarro have put their names to since the mid-90s, given the right mood and setting. That alone is enough to make this a welcome release – and one with more longevity than ‘Strays’ ever offered.

October 2011