The Night
(DreamWorks)****
As if Morphine weren't dark enough, this album is frontman Mark Sandman's swan song, recorded shortly before his death from an onstage heart attack last July. The Night was written and produced by Sandman in his own studio, and conveys the direction he wanted the band to take. The absence of a guitar had led the trio's two-string slide bass, baritone sax, and drums toward their characteristic "low rock" sound -- and low is exactly the right word to describe The Night. From the soft murmurs of the opening title track to the plaintive notes of closing song "Take Me with You," this is the most seductive and sweetly satisfying record in Morphine's oeuvre. With the notable exceptions of Middle Eastern instruments on "Rope on Fire" and female back-up vocals on several tracks, however, The Night doesn't detour much from the band's existing repertoire. Live favorite "A Good Woman Is Hard to Find" is finally recorded here, and fans of Sandman's ironic lyrics won't be disappointed with songs like "The Way We Met" ("No cute story about the way we met/We just woke up -- one day in bed"). And bed is probably the perfect place for listening to this album, preferably with a like-minded Morphine fan. Goodnight, Mr. Sandman. MELODY MOSS
THE THE
NakedSelf
(Nothing Records)***
Now this is packaging: a 6-page CD insert with lyrics, discography, and a dedication to Mum; a 21-panel booklet with trippy mechani-art and anti-industrial/pro-awareness slogans that could easily pass as stills from Terry Gilliam's apoca-flick, Brazil; all contained in a mysterious black box -- like a cockpit voice recorder -- that seems to offer the answers to life (or at least better questions). It looks great on your CD rack, too, begging you to select it over all those other drab discs without booklets or black boxes. It's packaging, packaging, packaging: the recording industry's version of location, location, location.
Usually, when this much effort is spent on the exterior of a disc, it means the interior will blow chunks (the more time wasted on presentation, the less time spent composing meaningful music). But NakedSelf is an exception; probably because Matt Johnson (The The's founder, mastermind, and only original member) hasn't released an album of original music since 1993's Dusk. So it seems the time allotted for songcrafting already exceeds that of most recording artists -- who release boring, old, status-quo packages.
The NakedSelf package is part of the artistry of the disc -- like Some Girls, or Warhol's functional zipper-fly on Sticky Fingers, or the brown-bag wrapper of Zep's In through the out Door -- and not just another glib flaunting of the record company's financial prowess.
Of course, if NakedSelf did blow chunks, I would have lashed out at the lavish packaging and declared it a hypocrisy. See, Johnson is an outspoken critic of capitalist-monger-devils and the automatons who obey them. As in the song "Swine Fever": "Fe, fi, fo, fum/Smell the blood of a gullible bum/Brain-dead, bored, bought into the fraud/BiggerHarderFasterMore!/...Don't even want it but you're gonna-gonna-gonna-gonna-gonna buy it." But the gloom of the booklet, the photos, and the slogans foreshadow the music that follows: a moody, soulful, blaring record that volleys between violent, unabashed release, and quiet restraint. ED DECKER
CAT POWER
The Covers Record
(Matador)*
Most cover albums are vanity projects that say more about the interpreters' taste than their abilities to reconfigure the works of others. Nowhere could this be more obvious than on the latest from Cat Power.
A while back, Cat Power was the fave among the more benign elements of the indie set. Chan Marshall's wavering voice and oddball persona -- which manifested itself in a "shyness" that left her unable to make eye contact with her audience and made her prone to odd tics that had her literally stopping songs midstream -- were taken as some kind of ragged "authenticity" by her benefactors. The 1998 release Moon Pix was hailed as the second coming of Patsy Cline, even if, actually, it was staggeringly dull.
Which brings us to The Covers Record: It's boring. But not boring like the new Yo La Tengo record -- boring as in bland, but bland in a pretentious way that begs you to indulge its maker because you're supposed to think she's making an artistic statement by making every song a coagulated mess. Given that she covers the Stones, Dylan, Velvet Underground, etc., you'd think she could make these songs go somewhere. However, using the most sparse, nothing arrangements she can, it all sounds like the same song. It sounds, in fact, very much like Moon Pix. JOE S. HARRINGTON
IN STORES 3/28
FATBOY SLIM, On the Floor at the Boutique (Astralwerks) Fatboy Slim is my funk soul brother!
KISS, Alive IV (Mercury/Island/Def Jam) KISS are my funk old brothers!
COMMON, Like Water for Chocolate (MCA) Common is my fun soul brother!
CATATONIA, Equally Cursed and Blessed (Atlantic) Catatonia are my Welsh soul brothers!
THE EXIES, The Exies (Ultimatum Music) The Exies are my Meursault brothers.
GOLDFINGER, Stomping Grounds (Mojo/Universal) Goldfinger are my funk coal miners!
MDFMK, MDFMK (Republic/Universal) MDFMK are my knuf luos srehtorb!
VARIOUS ARTISTS, The I-10 Chronicles (Back Porch/Virgin) Various Artists are my folk soul brothers!
THE INCREDIBLE MOSES LEROY, Growing up Clean in America (Ultimatum Music) Moses Leroy is my funk soul bother!
DMITRI FROM PARIS, A Night at the Mansion (Astralwerks) Dmitiri is my Deee-lite brother!
