Sound Bites
The Cardigans "First Band on the Moon" (Mercury)
More of the same from Sweden's loungey kitsch-pop quintet, but for those of us who have already played last year's release, "Life," to shreds, that's just fine. The Cardigans' major label debut isn't a big stretch from their previous 60s-style pop-- delicate, melodic and upbeat, a tad too fluffy and icky sweet, but all the more addictive because of it. There's a bit more of an edge than "Life" had on tracks like "Been It" and "Loser," which add electric guitars to the usual blend of strings, horns and twinkley chimes and bells that give each tune that freshly-scrubbed, Doris Day feel. Vocalist Nina Persson actually squeaks out teensy barbs like "whore" and "they're fucked up and annoying" with her usual innocuous cooing that makes Day sound like a depressed hooker. Even Black Sabbath's "Iron Man" becomes a laid back soundtrack for Saturday tobacco pipe-smoking in an expensive silk robe. "Never Recover," one of the cooler cuts, recalls "Sick and Tired" with its melody, peppy drums, minor/major shifts and seventh chords. "Lovefool" adds a disco beat and harmonies Olivia Newton-John would envy, all fleshed out with arrangements that hint of polyester. Excellent (or is it groovy?). What makes The Cardigans irresistible is their unapologetic deliverance of what must be the epitome of retro pop that even those who turn up their noses at pop secretly dig. They make you want to put on Nancy Sinatra's go-go boots and seduce young Stanford law grads. Why measure the greatness of a band by anything else?
K.F. A
Cake "Fashion Nugget" (Capricorn)
Why aren't these guys millionaires? Oh yeah, they have a refreshing sense of humor and originality that aren't allowed in these parts. Better for you-- race out and snatch up their down-to-earth, all-American, trumpet-spattered funk before it's discovered by the huddled masses teeming to be free from the likes of Bush and Hootie. Who but the most innovative and fearless could weave the disco classic "I Will Survive" and a Willie Nelson tune into the same album? Cake pulls its rump-jiggling rhythms from everywhere from 60s rock to rodeos. Their mix of electric and acoustic guitar provides not mere strumming and power chords, but haunting or infectious counter-melodies and rhythms as in "Daria" and "Nugget." There are more serious and minor tunes on this album than on their debut, "Motorcade of Generosity," and they cover more musical and lyrical ground. "Frank Sinatra" is a prime example of Cake's mastery of rhythm and harmony, but the lyric "the land where large, fuzzy dice still hang proudly like testicles from rear view mirrors" ("Race Car Ya-Yas") takes the ... uh ... cake.
K.F. A
Tears for Fears "Saturnine Martial and Lunatic" (Fontana/ Mercury)
Collections of B-sides always inspire a shudder. They can be eclectic samplings of a band's canned experiments-- decent songs that didn't fit the mood of an album, alternate mixes of hits that allow the band to stretch a bit-- or they can be a consolidated and punishing reminder of why the stuff was canned in the first place. Most are a little of both, as is this one. The majority of the songs are informal, thinly produced dance-type tracks that evolved during recording sessions, according to the dry but informative liner notes. Many songs are mostly instrumental and more atmospheric than focused or structured, which makes for great "wallpaper music," stuff to put on while you're reading or rearranging your fridge. "The Marauders" is one of the most simple, but also one of the most enchanting. Completely instrumental, it smacks a bit of early Depeche Mode with its unusual choice of instruments and samples. In many songs, samples of everything from car doors slamming to Simple Minds appear in straightforward or mutated form, and a healthy helping of keyboards and cheesy drum machines remind us how far back the '80s really are. None of us wants to be subjected to puberty again, but going back to some of the moods and sound constructions the Reagan decade had to offer once in a while wouldn't hurt.
K.F. B
Sublime "Sublime" (MCA)
Sublime's tragically final album makes you realize how much reggae and ska have in common. The album is split between the laid-back reggae-influenced beats of "Wrong Way" and "Santeria" and the manic pace of ska tunes "Seed" and "Same in the End." Then there's "Paddle Out," which is more punk than anything else. Many songs blend all of these sounds, speeding through choruses, then mellowing for verses. The record leans more toward guitars than the brass so common in similar bands, but they retain the light, punchy sound of bands like Fishbone or The Specials. Sublime's social consciousness covers everything from the '92 riots to "finding roaches in the pot" with the usual mix of unpretentiousness and levity of most ska and reggae bands. Tunes like "Burritos" and "The Ballad of Johnny Butt" reassure that not everyone is humorless and running into therapy. Songs that do broach subjects like depression, restlessness or social ills retain the Sublime wit that keeps them from getting too soggy or too far away from the hopelessly life-affirming sound of the music. There's a whopping 17 tracks on this album, clocking in at everything from "Paddle Out"'s frantic 1:15 to "Pawn Shop"'s leisurely 6:06-- more bang for your buck. Finally, Sublime wins the "aw, how cute" award for mentioning their dogs in three of their songs and including four photos of them in the CD booklet.
K.F. B+
Reviews by Kristin Fiore. Soundbites runs on Mondays and Wednesdays.
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