Thom Yorke * The Eraser (Capitol)
There’s enough Radiohead freaks around that it should be no secret that Thom Yorke had been dabbling with electronica even before Radiohead. While there isn’t any recorded evidence of it that I’ve heard of, it’s come up in interviews. Similarly, The Buzzcocks’ Pete Shelley had recorded the Kraftwerk-influenced electronic album, Sky Zen way back in 1974. So punkers who were surprised by his 1981 synth pop album, Homosapien, should have known better. It was no Buzzcocks, but it was pretty good. The Eraser is not quite as radical a departure from Radiohead, and as an electronica album, it’s as good as anything else I’ve heard in the genre in recent years. It’s still pretty tuneful, especially when the intensity is turned up on the second half. “Atoms For Peace” is a highlight, as is “Harrodown Hill,” which asks some serious questions about the death of British weapons inspector David Kelly. Here Yorke seethes through clenched teeth, and his vocal performance subtly handles the tension with grace. Overall The Eraser is no masterpiece like some have proclaimed, nor a disappointment. It’s just a pleasant surprise that’s intruiging enough to hold us over ‘til the next Radiohead album.
CSS * Cansei De Ser Sexy (Sub Pop)
Named after a remark made by Beyonce (“tired of being sexy”), Brazil’s CSS are a lighthearted pastiche-pop band along the lines of Brazilian Girls or, going further back, Cibo Matto. Some tunes (“Let’s Make Love and Listen to Death from Above,” “Meeting Paris Hilton”) reek of sarcasm and topicality of a recycled Williamsburg electroclash group. But there’s enough wit, energy and variety, that they get away with it. Lovefoxx isn’t much of a singer, but her accented broken English are charming enough to carry the band. And there’s enough sonic tricks up their sleeves to surprise, like the fang-baring “Art*****,” which bangs and clangs like some late 70s NY no-wave. “Patins” is a pretty great piece of indie guitar rock. Of course none of this would work if they weren’t truly having fun with it all. “Music is my Hot, Hot Sex” is a totally sincere, anthemic celebration that mixes the infectiousness of Tom Tom Club with Gwen Stefani.
Lily Allen * Alright, Still (Regal)
There’s a lot of talk about Lilly Allen that has little to do with her music. Apparently it’s because she launched her career using Myspace, and she liberally posts on her blog (rarely a good idea for narcissistic musicians). I could give a rat’s ***. However annoying she might be in person, I don’t have to have her over for dinner. Thank god. Her album is filled with fabulous samples of Jamaican and Calypso riddims, witty lyrical turns, and something that none of her garage cronies have, a decent singing voice. “Smile,” “Knock ‘Em Out,” “Not Big” and “Friday Night” are all great, summery pop songs. Any lack of notable passion or depth is balanced by the lack of any real dud tracks.
Graham Coxon * Love Travels at Illegal Speeds (Parlophone)
What a stupid title. This is Coxon’s sixth solo album. Don’t feel bad if you didn’t know he was making albums—the first four are exceedingly inessential. By 2004’s Happiness In Magazines, the former Blur guitarist finally learned how to write songs again, and sounded less dated than his old band while he’s at it. Not that there’s anything original in this guitar pop. They’re simply terse, Buzzcocks-inspired pop songs about love and loss and alcohol. Perhaps mourning the loss of alcohol. Whatever they’re about, the tunes are a step up from the somewhat overrated comebacks by Cheap Trick and The New York Dolls.
Razorlight (Universal)
It’s hard to tell which is worse for a young British band trying to make an impact in the U.S. —being overhyped and then given a savage critical beatdown, or just being ignored. They pretty much got the worst of everything with no hype, and then were ignored. In the UK, Up All Night (2004) garnered solidly positive reviews, nothing hysterical, and then quietly sold a million copies. It was a great, if not groundbreaking, album of youthful passion and an homage to Patti Smith, the Voidoids and even Bruce Springsteen. The Yankees weren’t having any of it, and bludgeoned it ‘til hardly a quiver was left. I suspect some people are holding a personal vendetta against Johnny Borrell who reportedly has quite a mouth on him, boasting he’s better than Dylan during his first album. Guess I had to be there, but Dylan’s first album really wasn’t all that great, so what’s the big whoop? At any rate, the axes were sharpened even before the new album was released. Q declared Razorlight a timeless classic which is a bit hyperbolic. Stylus burned and buried it like it was toxic waste, which was pretty amusing. The lead-off single, “In The Morning” is very upbeat, poppy tune that’s good enough to generate plenty of anticipation. “Who Needs Love” maintains the intruige with another departure, spare, piano-driven Motown-style soul that reminds me of Crowded House. “Hold On” continues the spare rhythm. It’s a good tune, but I slowly realize what’s wrong. It doesn’t rock. At all. Razorlight lost their original drummer who went bananas all over Up All Night, and they’ve downgraded to mere time-keeping. “America” is truly horrid, with cringe-inducing lyrics and a sacharine melody. From there it’s a shaky, uphill recovery, with “Pop Song 2006” and “Kirby’s House” making up for that disasterous ballad. Overall it’s not a bad little pop album. But what made Razorlight special, the rock energy and sloppy romanticism and passion, are fading memories.
