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Music Reviews Looking Forward (4 Way Stench) Okay, so I shouldnít make such a harsh judgment when I havenít even heard the album yet. But Iím not spending 12-15 bucks to find out something I think I already know: You canít go home again. Well, I can. I live about twenty-five minutes from where I grew up and my mom lives in the house I grew up in. We still get along very well and every Sunday I drop by for a great home cooked meal. Of course, the secret is we donít turn on the tape machines and decide to record a new album. Thatís where CSN&Y made their mistake. If they had settled on a tasty pot roast instead of a musical pot luck, American Dream would fondly be remembered as the last mistake they made together. Instead we have this stillborn child to take care of. Again, maybe Iím being too critical on something I havenít heard. But LEEmail calls Looking Forward, "A real stinker" and my web site designer, editor and personal valet, Jack Freeman only gives it two and a half stars. Thatís good enough for me. Now if Paul Harvey were still alive (he is dead, isnít he?), this is where heíd give you the rest of the story. Not only is there a new album by the Faded Four but theyíre backing it up with an all-out tour! Choicest of the choice seats will only set you back 200 smackers. At that price, Iíd better be sitting on a stool between the four of them calling out chord changes. (I think it divvies up this way: $125 for Neil, $50 each for Stephen and David, and $25 for Graham. In case you think Nash is getting the short end of the stick, Young still has a career, Stills plays a mean guitar and Crosby has that whole "drug problem-sent to prison-life saving transplant" thing to bring a lot of attention to the tour.) Iím guessing the live shows will be better than the new album. For one thing, theyíll be playing the old stuff. Now when they recorded Looking Forward, I understand the four of them were rarely in the same studio at the same time. Hopefully they wonít follow this same procedure in concert. Two of them on stage and the other two split screen on the Jumbotron. No, thereís too much money involved for that. Probably even too much for Neil to pull one of his famous disappearing acts. "We are star dust, we are golden..."
THE ARTIST FORMERLY KNOWN AS BEING GOOD Rave Un2 The Joy To The World Fantastic This target is so big I can hit it with my eyes close and one hand tied behind by back. Welcome back to the major label plantation, Prince/Symbol/The Artist/Little Chap. Before I get any nasty e-mail about the plantation reference, it was The Artist himself who compared himself to being a slave at the end of his unhappy tenure at Warner Brothers. Iím not usually one to side with the pus suckers who run the major labels, but when someone reroutes the cash river to flow directly up your butt, I think maybe they deserve something that vaguely resembles a hit. Apparently, the Purple One doesnít see eye-to-eye with me on this. (Insert your own short joke here.) He wanted to exorcise his creative right to crank out a plethora of nondescript drivel at mind numbing intervals and expect his record company to get behind it like it was the second coming of something really good. When that didnít happen, or when it stopped happening, The Artie (short for the Artist) left Warners and looked for an alternative ways to dispense his muse to a waiting world. There was Crystal Ball, a four CD set of previously unleashed gems that could only be purchased at Best Buys, an artist friendly retailer who always places integrity ahead of the almighty dollar. Then came independent releases and the old "get it on the Internet first" shell game. And I believe there was even one CD single you could only get at participating lemonade stands. When all that failed, Da Art (short for The Artie) allowed Arista to be the lucky plantation/label to be crawled back to. That brings us to the album, Rave Un2, etc. I put it on, listened a bit and then was suddenly hit by a revelation: I could be listen to something else!! Itís not that itís boring. Itís just that itís very, very, very, very, very, boring. (Now someday Iím going to need a "very" and it wonít be there because I wasted so many in the previous sentence.) Something tells me heís just making this shit up as he goes along. Hey, but it does sound good. Not one to be called much of a trooper, I never made it though this entire disc. In fact, I donít think Iíve listened to a complete Prince album since he was called Prince. And I used to really like him a lot. (Especially the earlier funny albums.) One a side note: I happen to catch snippets of Aís MTV interview with Kurt Loder. I think it went something like "Yap yap yap, yappity yap, yap yappity yap..." You know Price (Ooops) is always gonna be coming from outer space, so no point in rehashing any of that muckity-muck. What really amazes me is what an ass kissing namby pamby Loder has become. Donít ask any tough questions, Kurt. Wouldnít want to blow your shot at the next hard to get interview when word gets around you made someone blink. And then when he does play his version of "hard ball" he always prefaces it with "Some people say" or "Theyíre are those who are not me that think..." Kudos on all those insightful "nods of agreement," Kurt. Thanks for making Tabitha Soren look like Mike Wallace. In summation, put on Dirty Mind, 1999 or Sign Of the Times, turn up the volume and party up. U will thank me 4 it. Eye promise. MARIAH CAREY When it comes to Pop Tarts, they donít come any tastier than the lovely and curvaceous Miss Carey. But I must admit Iím extremely disappointed with this latest offering from Americaís sexiest diva. The pictures on the front and back of the CD packaging arenít nearly has hot as those on the "Heartbreaker" single. I really dig that cut off tank top that Mariah strategically tugs with her thumb. Or the tight fitting jeans sans waistband that help show off that sweet little diva bottom. Yes, those are the type of photos that clearly define Mariahís artistic sincerity... and they could be yours for the price of a single. Rainbow, however, is a full length album, which means youíll be paying about three times as much for images that do a less satisfactory job of displaying Mariah as the extraordinary creative genius we know and love. Yes, the white panties do make a nice statement and we get to see that flat diva tummy, but these photos have a fake quality that tosses a big nasty shadow over Mariahís credibility as an artist. Airbrushing is a lot like ordering the all-you-can-eat clams at a seafood restaurant. You gotta know when to stop. I should point out, however, there is some inspired symbolism utilized in the Rainbow packaging concept. On the front, a rainbow runs across Mariahís diva breasts. On the back, it covers the previously mentioned diva butt. And I thought subliminal advertising was banned! Oh yeah, I almost forgot...if you take off the cellophane and open the jewel box, youíll find a compact disc inside with new music by Mariah Carey and a long list of collaborators champing at the bit to rub up against, uh, work with the Princess of Pop. Iím sure itís just as wonderful as Mariahís previous recorded efforts and will expand the barriers of popular music in ways theyíve never been expanded before. Then again, you could just buy a Mariah Carey poster instead. Itís cheaper and a lot bigger. Diva Sidebar Like The Artist, Miss Carey has also shown up on MTV for a thought provoking and soul bearing interview. ( Hey, might as well since they dropped by to push the new product anyway.) Itís been a tough year for Mariah, but not to worry. Sheís in a happier state of mind now and no longer worries about stressfull issues like what people think of her forehead and which is her best profile. Thank God, she didnít wind up with a loaded shotgun in her mouth like Kurt Cobain! SIR PAUL McCARTNEY Although some think heís older than all five Backstreet Boys combined (theyíre are five of them, right?), Macca can still rock with the best of them. In fact, he has more rock and roll chops in his pinkie finger than all those square headed, backward hat wearing Kornbot bands put together. (Guess my age and win a free "Man From U.N.C.L.E." decoder ring!*) On this album, McCartney once again sets the Way Back Machine for the formative years of rock and roll and, with the help of a talented pick up band, rips through twelve hot covers and three new originals with a performance that can only be described as blistering. Which doesnít mean Paul got blisters while making this album or youíll get them by listening to it. I just say "blistering" because itís one of those terms that doesnít really mean anything, but everybody understands anyway. Like the "warmth" of vinyl. Or the "systematic raping of Americaís culture via the media." I guess what Iím trying to say is I recommend this album because itís really jamminí. "I know itís only rock and roll, but I like it." "The win a free prize remark is only a joke. You donít get anything if you e-mail the correct answer. And I would appreciate it if someone would arrest the woman who keeps showing up at my apartment claiming sheís the winner of the "Win A Dream Pedicure From Danny Contest."
WOODSTOCK í99 (Various Artists) Well, if you missed the actual hoe-down, hereís your chance to experience the next best thing. Slap this two disc collection in the changer, strip to the waist and set the neighborís storage barn on fire. Okay, if you read my inaugural Shit List, you know how I feel about the crapfest that inspired this release. Yes, I know that the original Woodstock doesnít really live up to the grand myth of the three day Utopia of peace, love and understanding. Hippies were pretty stupid at times, but it was a whole different kind of stupid than we got now. "Smile on your brother" is a rather simplistic idealism but it sure beats the hell out of shoving a helpless woman in a Port-A-Potty and having your way with her because you just felt like it was something you had the right to do. There are a lot of sick bastards out there and I donít think we need to celebrate their idiotic escapades by marketing a souvenir for this weekend of mindless hedonism. "...and weíve got to get ourselves back to the garden."
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