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DISC REVIEWS **** Brilliant *** Impressive ** Pedestrian * Lame THE RAPTURE
The rumors have been greatly exaggerated: Indie rockers actually do dance. What's more, they play dance music. Rejecting indie's die-hard asceticism and conjuring the late 1970s/early 1980s moment when post-punk and disco coexisted in aesthetic alchemy, bands like Radio 4, the Liars and !!! make music that aims to liberate listeners' hips while still honoring the notion that guitars are grittier than machines. Of course, no band is more associated with this rhythm addiction than New York City's the Rapture, whose wildly celebrated single "House of Jealous Lovers," a clever adaptation of the James Chance and the Contortions classic No Wave jam "Contort Yourself," is generally acknowledged as instigating the entire movement two summers ago. Now with Echoes, the band's first full-length release, the Rapture is attempting to harness the sheer voltage of that single and extend it over the length of an album. Far from establishing the band's supremacy as disco-punk posterboys, however, Echoes is an uneven -- if occasionally thrilling -- effort that highlights a band still trying to find a way to shake it without seeming self-conscious. Clearly, the band has learned how to reconcile their love of guitar noise with sequenced sounds, thanks to their relationship with the production team DFA, who also work with Radio 4 and have a project pending with Britney Spears. It was DFA who convinced the band to subject their frenzied compositions to electronic mutation, thus spawning the idea of the Rapture more as a studio project than an actual band. And Echoes does showcase how compelling this sort of collaboration can be, from the Cure-goes-electro opening track "Olio" -- remixed from the band's 1998 debut EP Mirror -- to the housed-up "I Need Your Love" to the moody, Gang of Four-touched "Killing." But there's also something very bubblegum about this band. The foursome count off in unison on no less than three songs and find space in between the edgier, dance-punk tracks for two ballads, "Open up Your Heart" and "Love Is All." Ultimately, it's hard to imagine Echoes bolstering the Rapture's underground credibility. However, give the band credit for attempting to show indie rock the way to rhythm nation. -- MICHAEL STROHL
CARLA BOZULICH Recording a cover version of someone else's song, particularly if it's already well known, poses a risk for a musician. If it sounds too different from the original, it offends old fans. If it's too close, then what's the point? Deciding to cover an entire album is an almost unheard of risk, especially when the album is as seminal as Willie Nelson's Redheaded Stranger. Carla Bozulich is no stranger to risk. Her antics with the sexually charged Ethyl Meatplow were risqué. Her next band, the Geraldine Fibbers, was a hybrid of old country, punk and distortion -- sort of George Jones by way of Sonic Youth. While critically acclaimed, they had a tough time finding an audience. The original Redheaded Stranger tells the story of love, betrayal, murder and heartache. It was a concept album that, much like the Fibbers, was hard to categorize. It became a classic in spite of its experimentation and disregard of traditional form. Bozulich's version, far more musically eclectic, runs the same risk of not finding an audience. There's far too much of a punk influence to make old Willie fans happy. There are long stretches of free-form jazz instrumentation by guitarist and long-time Bozulich collaborator Nels Cline, as well as Scott Amendola on drums. There's too much country for a lot of the alternative crowd. "I Can't Believe That It's True" sounds like a hoedown. But somehow it all comes together with a touch of brilliance. "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain" is a straight take on the original, given new life by Bozulich's haunting vocals. Her voice is low, gravelly, smooth as honey laced with grain alcohol. It's not a typical voice, but one that resonates with honesty, a trait she shares with Nelson. Nelson gives his blessing to the project by appearing on a few tracks. His distinctive guitar -- recognizable even if he weren't credited -- appears on the album's first cut, "Time of the Preacher," forging a connection with the original work. He sings on "Can I Sleep in Your Arms" and "Hands on the Wheel," his voice complementing Bozulich's perfectly. At times it stands in sharp contrast, while at others it wraps around and envelops her. Even though these are his songs, Nelson is no more tied down to what has gone before than Bozulich is. Following her lead, his vocals sound different from his original. His performance recognizes that music is a living thing; that songs continue to grow and change even after they are set down on a recording. As the original musical outlaw, Nelson gladly hands over the reins and rides alongside those who forge new trails from the ones he pioneered. -- WAYNE WISE | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||