Music review
The Breeders have endured a protracted “Behind the Music” type of melodrama since their platinum-selling 1993 indie release “Last Splash.” Drugs, alienation, fights, a revolving door of band members … problems made all the juicier because twins Kim and Kelley Deal were at the center of the storm.
The sisters finally return as the Breeders, accompanied by three men more than 10 years their junior – guitarist Richard Presley, bass player Mando Lopez and drummer Jose Medeles. “Title TK” indicates The Breeders’ troubles aren’t all behind them.
Although the group retains the charm of “Last Splash’s” anti-establishment naivete, leader Kim Deal struggles to break loose from a seemingly addled spirit. As decidedly noncommercial as its predecessor, “Title TK” is more of a glorified stoner’s album than a vivacious enigma.
Engineered by Steve Albini, “Title TK” has more solid footing in the other-world country romp “Full on Idle,” the rhythmic roil “Huffer” and an off-kilter “Too Alive” tethered to an irregular beat.
Yet what sells this album – surprisingly well, in fact – is Kim Deal’s lyrical jumble and weathered delivery.
She often sings as if she’s in a semi-drunken stupor, and she can be humorous, flirtatious, sad and illogical all at once. Her sister’s likewise curious counter-vocals merely enhance the appeal.
There’s beauty in imperfection, after all.
Rating (five possible): 3-1/2
“18,” Moby
As innovative as Moby was on “Play,” his new “18” is a redundant follow-up.
Sprawling, cinematic, synthetic orchestrations, a few words of a lyric sample looped ad nauseam, downcast atmosphere …
We get it, we get it.
What’s more, when Moby ventures into something different – the David Bowie/”Heroes” rip-off “We Are All Made of Stars,” for example, and the stuck-in-neutral hip-hop track “Jam for the Ladies” featuring Angie Stone and MC Lyte- well, those cuts are simply out of place.
Three years ago “Play” was the perfect release for the techno-phobic mainstream: Moby intertwined gorgeous melodies with soulful (and ancient) vocal samples to create an air of mystique and importance. Then the King of Licensing sold the use of virtually every track on “Play” to major companies for corporate branding, rubbing out the mystery and making the antique vocals sound as if they had been desecrated.
“Play” time with Moby took a sour turn.
Now he’s simply wearing it out: “In This World” and “One of These Mornings” could well have been lifted from the “Play” sessions; the ponderous cut “Harbour” (featuring Sinead O’Connor on vocals) is lost in methodical boredom, and minimalistic bleakness runs rampant on this 18-track, 70-plus minute opus.
All that criticism aside, it’s hard to dismiss Moby out of hand. Tracks such as “Fireworks” and “18” may be nothing more than recycled New Age, but they’re pretty all the same. And the spacious allure of “Signs of Love” and torchy aura of “Sunday (The Day Before My Birthday)” (featuring a delicious sample from Sylvia Robinson’s 1973 song “Sunday”) are mesmerizing.
But just like the gratuitous – and worse, pointless – essay that accompanies “18,” the once-verbose and provocative Moby doesn’t have anything new to say.
Rating: 3
“Mended,” Marc Anthony
“Mended” is so incredibly formulaic, Marc Anthony could have knocked it off in a couple of weeks, tops.
Time for a ballad? Cue the Spanish guitar, and Anthony belts out the sickly sentiments of “Do You Believe in Loneliness” and “Everything You Do.” Time for something with a little more octane? Cue the rumbling rhythm, and Anthony belts out the sickly sentiments of “Don’t Tell Me It’s Love” and “Give Me a Reason.”
Where’s the Rob Thomas collaboration, you ask? Why, it’s right there in the overly familiar, whimsical bump and grind of “Tragedy.” You could name that tune in three notes.
Manipulative faux drama and smarmy lyrics abound on this filler-ridden English-language album from the Spanish-singing salsa superstar. His first foray into English recording – 1999’s “Marc Anthony” – went triple platinum at the height of the Latin pop wave that swept America.
But times have changed, and Anthony is no Shakira. He’s hardly even “Marc Anthony”: “Mended” is more like a photocopy when the ink is running low.
Yet give him credit for bellowing through this generously polished, if substandard, material. And when he closes out the album with a Spanish version of “I’ve Got You” (“Te Tengo Aqui”) he evokes something approximating genuine emotion.
Perhaps he’s just not comfortable with this English pop business.
Rating: 2
(Contact Chuck Campbell of The Knoxville News-Sentinel in Tennessee at http://www.knoxnews.com.)
(Contact Chuck Campbell of The Knoxville News-Sentinel in Tennessee at http://www.knoxnews.com.)