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Mature
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Eminem
The
Eminem Show (Interscope)
 After
2000’s introspective The Marshall Mathers LP, Eminem’s
old persona returns in full force, reestablishing the Detroit
rapper as one of the more controversial figures in hiphop
history. It is easy to discredit a man who is directly responsible
for the resurgence of the tennis visor as a fashion statement,
who so adamantly wears his self-absorbed, unresolved adolescent
despair on his sleeve for suburban teens to hoist like yet
another misappropriated middle finger in the face of authority.
Nonetheless, his acerbic wit, insight and mathematical precision
with verse belie his self-centered ire. Producer/mentor Dr.
Dre embellishes the rhymes with low, sweet vibes borrowed
right out of TVland, The Nutcracker and classic
rock, or purloined from the vast repetitive heartbeat of The
Wall and incalculable bytes of ephemeral Americana.
The texture of each track is seamless, made even more formidable
by painfully poignant rapping. The Dre-Eminem coalition has
relentlessly compiled a polluted scrapbook of Eminem’s immersion
in the cesspool of fame. “White America” and “Without Me”
are downright haunting, learned assessments of the music industry.
Here the raps transcend the genre and enter into a more beat-era
digression. “Superman” and “Soldier” gravitate toward the
more familiar, gratuitous Shady. “Say Goodbye to Hollywood,”
in light of the rest of the CD, is a poor disclaimer for white
males 14 to 21 that this is all vaudeville, all acting, the
old Alice Cooper “I do this so you don’t have to” bit. And
cries of censorship? Even the metalheads realized long ago
how essential the Parental Advisory label is for sales.
In the end, for all the ego, misogyny, hatred, gunplay and
disturbingly ritualistic immersions in thug-style brutal murder,
Eminem’s latest effort is frighteningly mature. As mature
as he’s gonna get, anyway.
—Bill
Ketzer
Starlings,
TN
The
Leaper’s Fork (Chicken Ranch)
Starlings, TN are a trio of former rock-band practitioners
who offer respect and confidence with their own take on rootsy
Americana. The band are mentored by dulcimer virtuoso David
Schnauffer, who is an important component on this debut album
(but he leaves it at that, eschewing touring). Sometimes the
enthusiasm of a newcomer can yield tipsy results, but in this
case there’s a fearless melding of front-porch spontaneity
and subtle space-age components. “Grey Cat on a Tennessee
Farm” and “Red Rocking Chair”—two of the set’s four traditional
numbers—have quietly subversive arrangements and mixes; iconoclastic,
but oh so friendly. The only thing that doesn’t ring true
is the brief call-and-response vocal opening to “Nothing but
the Blood of Jesus,” during which they sound like the young
whippersnappers and former rockers that they are. But as a
whole, Starlings, TN are a fully formed and believable world.
—David
Greenberger
 The
Blasters
Testament:
The Complete Slash Recordings (1981-1985) (Rhino)
For those who care about this sort of thing (and I do), it’s
all here. The Blasters were not content to simply be revivalists,
and their brand of rockabilly and roots-rockin’ blues was
shot through with a hot white bolt of punk energy. The group
emerged with their vision fully intact on the heels of the
West Coast punk explosion, and during four prolific years
beginning in 1981 churned out the canon found here. The Brothers
Alvin were the two-headed monster behind the Blasters. And
much like the Band’s Robbie Robertson, lead guitarist Dave
Alvin was the creative force behind the group, providing his
brother, vocalist Phil Alvin, with tunes that seemed to have
been culled from some enchanted border radio station adrift
in time. While both Dave and Phil subsequently embarked on
solo careers and periodic Blasters reunions, this is the fervent
period upon which their careers are staked. And it’s not hyperbole
to state that Dave Alvin wrote instant classics. Even at first
listen, tracks like “So Long Baby Goodbye” and “Long White
Cadillac” are so right and so familiar that they seemed to
have been embedded in our DNA. The early ’90s collection was
solid, but this, the band’s first career spanner, far outdistances
it. Testament also features the Blasters live album
and a bunch of rarities, including “Justine” with X’s John
Doe on vocals. Dave Alvin served as a consultant, and this
mother swings.
—Erik
Hage
Dr.
Eugene Chadbourne
Texas
Sessions: Chapter Two (Boxholder)
The Woodstock, Vt.-based Boxholder Records is shaping up into
a vibrant and vital champion of non-classifiables and envelope-pushers.
Eugene Chadbourne is of course not really a doctor, but he
truly did record this album in Texas. The set is subtitled
“To Doug,” as in Doug Sahm. Chadbourne and Texas’s late musical
ambassador to the world have more in common than one might
initially think: Both men fully inhabited any music they turned
their attentions to. Granted, Sahm’s country-R&B grooves
fell more squarely in a preexisting tradition, while Chadbourne
lovingly pummels the forms with free-jazz cacophony, horror-movie
hijinks, comic asides, and homemade instruments (all of which
ends up proving the utter resilient durability of the material
he chooses to explore).
Texas
Sessions: Chapter Two offers up 11 songs: some by Sahm,
some associated with Sahm, and five Chadbourne originals.
Chadbourne is joined on the album by a rhythm section that
played separately with Sahm at different times during his
life, drummer Ernie Durawa and bassist Speedy Sparks. Also
on hand from the previous Texas chapter are pedal-steel guitarist
Susan Alcorn and harmonica player Walter Daniels. They made
a delightfully flowing, unified whole out of Sahm classics
like “Give Back the Key to My Heart” and “Old Habits Die Hard”
and Chadbourne’s free-ranging tunes (from the sad country
portraiture of “The Bottled Labeled Losers” to the social
commentary/protest of “Today’s Gun Permits” and “The Bully
Song”).
—D.G.
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