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Pizzicato Five, The Fifth Album From Matador (Matador): Iconic kitschophile Konishi Yasuharu here helms another head-spinning cut-'n'-paste collection of authentically depicted, primary-colored pop culture. On their fifth American album, Pizzicato Five appropriate, cut up, and fearlessly re-create '60s and '70s Italian soundtracks. "Roma," a cartoon-chase of a song, flies with reckless abandon; flourishes of harpsichord punctuate "A Room With a View" as it bounces along on a brassy breeze; "Darlin' of Discothéque" dances up a Euro-disco storm over syrupy synth-strings; "Serial Story" takes a drive through the country in spring sunshine. — Anthony Carew
Groop Dogdrill, Every Six Seconds (Beggar's Banquet Canada): In this age of TMI (Too Much Information) and corporate mega-hype, real artistic genius is in great danger of being swamped by mountains of uninspired dross shoveled 24/7 upon a numbed-out public. I fear that such a fate may befall this brilliant slice of post-Nirvana rock by the UK's Groop Dogdrill. After years of writing about this stuff, I'll gladly stake my critical rep on the brilliance of Every Six Seconds, the band's sophomore disc, its title a reference to the frequency with which males supposedly think about sex. From start to finish, Every Six Seconds teems with melody-infused raunch — think of bands like the Afghan Whigs, GVSB, and of course, Nirvana — and a careening, exhilarating, on-the-brink sensibility. Thematically, we're taken on a wild, testosterone-fueled — and, in contrast to Kurt Cobain and company, guilt-free — trawl though the basement of the male psyche. Presented in an unapologetic fashion ("Simian Kind," "Clown Smash Everything") as a natural, if tragic, imperative, male sexuality appears in all its terror and ecstasy, while the ladies are portrayed with equally few illusions: "Shut your mouth and take your pants down," a groupie instructs the startled singer on the provocatively titled "On Me Not in Me," while the female protagonist in the gothic-sex creep-out "Bob 'N' Laura" inquires: "Do you feel disgusted Bob / Now that I've come?" Matt Ellis' punchy production keeps things in this aural war-of-the-sexes sounding consistently engaging. Like Nirvana's Nevermind, like all the best rock, Every Six Seconds refuses to serve as some kind of yuppie background noise: it demands a response, either positive or negative, from the listener. While a U.S. release has been mysteriously pulled from the schedule, Every Six Seconds is available from Beggar's Banquet Canada at a reasonable price. Those who wonder where the real rock 'n' roll went in the year 2000 would do well to check it out . — Johnny Walker (Black) more reviews |