|
 Rage
Against the Sound in the Garden
Audioslave
Audioslave
• (Epic/Interscope)
Audioslave are the seemingly irresolute conspiracy between
Soundgarden’s Chris Cornell and Rage Against the Machine minus
Zack de la Rocha. Last I heard, Cornell called it quits after
a zealous round of demo-dealing and the promise of a much-ballyhooed
spot on Ozzfest 2002’s main stage, but here they are with
a full-court press by Epic execs, new rumors of a pending
U.S. jaunt and a branny-new, self-titled CD.
I suspect that many a raucous Rager will at first be taken
back by the overall tone of this freshman release, as Tom
Morello and crew are coaxed out of the punishing, percussive
structure of their rap roots and into challenging syntaxes
of subtlety. The union all but demands actual dynamics and
a practical but tenacious attention to the melodic tendencies
of Cornell’s voice, ideas previously unnecessary or perhaps
even prohibitive in the drooling, hiphop bullfight that was
RATM. Drummer Brad Wilk and bassist Tom Commerford now yield
more to meter, letting Morello and Cornell fill the spaces
in between.
The single “Cochise” and the fiery “Set It Off” are fistbangers
for sure, but unmemorable in the sense that it is exactly
what the band shouldn’t be—simply a latter-day Rage embellished
with trademark Cornell hollerin’. Thankfully, much of the
material is a well-considered compromise between the hard
line of Rage’s rhythm section and the noticeable thumbprint
of Cornell’s more contemplative, trance-inducing progressions.
“What You Are,” “Hypnotize” and “Bring ’Em Back Alive” are
excellent indicators of this formula functioning at its unassuming
peak capacity, but diehard fans of either band are just as
likely to get their rocks off to the crushing grooves of “Exploder”
or “Gasoline.” As can be expected, Morello’s guitar gymnastics
are incredulously inventive, dynamic and sometimes completely
unrecognizable as anything produced by six strings. His studious
electric ventriloquism at times mimics insects scrapping in
the wet brain, others like a prerecorded neighbor regrading
the lawn with a rented John Deere.
Cornell at times gets an opportunity to revisit the more ballsy,
primal howls of Louder Than Love (but not that much—sorry
folks), despite a telling gruffness to his voice at the higher
end. His lyrics seem to loosely investigate modes of travel
and transience, whether emotional, physical or spiritual.
Is there chemistry here? Sure. There are dull points, where
one feels like they sort of crammed for the exam, but mostly
it becomes, for those in the know, like the ultimate goal
of any other chemistry: despite the final assessment, a vehicle
for the inspection of God, the scrutiny of life. And thanks
to Rick Rubin, it sounds colossal at any volume. Hey, now.
—Bill
Ketzer
Lanterna
Sands
• (Badman)
The music that Henry Frayne creates as Lanterna hews to such
specific characteristics that his ongoing output could be
heard as one overarching piece. However, with each release
he also exhibits a keen understanding of how to sculpt an
album experience. On his latest, Sands, after the drones
of the title number comes the strummed folkishness of “Windward,”
with its wordless vocals drifting in from afar. That then
gives way to the subtly more complex chordal and harmonic
structure of “Fields.”
As with previous Lanterna albums, this set’s 10 pieces were
built by starting basic tracks and adding to them until it’s
a Great Plains wheatfield being rippled by continuous breezes.
As has been his methodology in the past, Frayne brought in
a drummer, this time Steve Day, to add percussives to his
foundation tracks. Most of it boils down to an electric guitar
and a delay pedal. But just because any citizen is free to
obtain and utilize those instruments doesn’t mean it would
sound anything like this. It’s as if he locked himself away
for 10 years, studying the quietest moment’s of Pink Floyd’s
Meddle, and then came down from the mountain with this.
—David
Greenberger
 Nate
Ruth
Whatever
It Meant • (Soundless)
The debut album from New Jersey’s Nate Ruth demonstrates that
its creator learned a lot during his time managing a record
store, as one can cite influences from just about every major
critical favorite of the past two decades, and some from before
then. Whatever It Meant’s opening cut, “End Up,” sounds
like the evil spawn of Hüsker Dü and Aphex Twin, with the
furriest guitars imaginable piled atop a demented post-triphop
beat. The tunes that follow evoke the likes of Sonic Youth,
Guided by Voices, Sebadoh/Sentridoh and the Flaming Lips,
with psychedelic shades of the Soft Machine and early Pink
Floyd tossed onto the heap for good measure.
Whatever
It Meant doesn’t come across as mere homage, though, as
Ruth manages to build a fairly distinctive and surprisingly
accessible work from such diverse elements, with his strong
songwriting skills keeping the whole project from sinking
into the self-indulgence to which many such noisy, studio-intensive
efforts fall prey. On album closer “It’s Been Worth the Wait,”
Ruth offers the following thought: “If you look real hard,
you’ll never find anything/You’ll only see what you think
you should.” I’d offer that as an appropriate listening strategy
for Whatever It Meant, an album that’s more than the
sum of its parts—but with a sum that you’ll miss if you spend
too much time dissecting its component pieces and influences.
An impressive debut from an artist worth watching.
—J.
Eric Smith
Bob
Dylan
Live
1975: The Rolling Thunder Revue • (Columbia)
Bob Dylan’s 1975 Rolling Thunder Revue can be seen as a reaction
to his experience the year before, touring with the Band—-which
left little room to allow musical circumstances to lead into
surprise discoveries. Both tours accepted the long shadow
he’d been casting for over a decade, but with Rolling Thunder,
he was clearly having fun with his legacy. In a way, these
shows can be seen as a template for his subsequent and so-called
Never Ending Tour, which mixes reinvigorated nuggets from
his catalog with selections from whatever new release is at
hand.
This two-disc set is Volume Five in the ongoing Bootleg
Series. While musical decisions rule the day, the tour
did showcase songs from Desire (the core band members
were also a part of those sessions), many of which here bristle
with an intensity that surpasses the studio versions. The
tour also celebrated Dylan’s early entry into the world of
folk music through a series of duets with Joan Baez. While
her controlled vibrato can become wearying on its own, here
it sets up contrasts and tensions with Dylan’s more free-ranging
and emotive approaches. In fact, his singing is passionate
throughout, whether it’s on a then-new number like “Isis”
or a dramatic chestnut such as “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue.”
This music is alive in the best and most important ways: It’s
honest on its own terms, giving it a vibrancy that’s lost
none of its potency almost 30 years later.
—David
Greenberger
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