Carpal Tunnel Syndrome
(Ninja Tune)****
This impish, Chinese twentysomething from Montreal has already made quite a name for himself through his live performances, his now legendary Scratchcratchratchatch mix tape, and collaborations with Coldcut, Money Mark, Peanut Butter Wolf, Prince Paul, and Dan "The Automator" Nakamura.
Now the Bruce Lee of turntablism delivers his first full-length, manipulating the Technics 1200s like nunchucks; flinging vinyl slabs of jazz, lounge, and country like ninja throwing-stars; slicing, dicing, and chopping up kiddie records and movie sound bites like, well, you get the idea. Koala's a pop culture scavenger, cutting and pasting together funky collages with hands and needle--a veritable Rauschenberg of the one and twos.
Now, the acrobatics of a skilled scratch DJ don't always translate on record. All that wicky-wicky-wicky stuff can get tedious, and sometimes it seems like the guy behind the boards is just spinning his wheels, so to speak. Not Koala. On tracks like "Roboshuffle" and "A Night at Nufonia," he showcases his karate-quick hands and creates something funky and head-nodding. Even the more technical exercises like "Drunk Trumpet" and "Like Irregular Chickens"--where Koala kneads horn hits and barnyard squawks into rhythmic compositions to illustrate the potential of turntables as instruments--are highly amusing.
More than just a funky collagist or a turntable technician, Koala's a clown, a wax-juggling jester who has no problem poking fun at himself. Splicing together random snippets of dialogue (the voice of Winnie-the-Pooh or a line from Revenge of the Nerds, for example) he creates droll sonic skits about everything from cheesy pick-up lines to geeky record collectors to the art of turntablism itself. "My arm!" someone yelps in pain in one snippet, tacked together with the condescending response, "And that, of course, is what he deserved for trying to be a musician when he was only a butcher." If Koala is a butcher, then his cuts are strictly Grade-A top sirloin. DAVID WOLLOCK
DINOSAUR, JR.
In Session
(Fuel 2000)***
Maybe once upon a time J. Mascis' shrug-shouldered resignation might've seemed a revelation. Now, a decade later, it's just dull. Not to fault the actual recordings found on In Session, which is a collection of the band's performances for the BBC during the years '88-'92--they're all excellent. It's the limited style that's to blame. Even when Mascis is seemingly on the verge of kicking up some dust in the "rustic" manner of a Velvet Crush (not to mention Neil Young), his own lack of ambition gets in the way. As Lisa Carver once said, "Stop mumbling!" Just because that's his "trademark" doesn't mean it's necessarily "good" (although, admittedly, it's distinct). Nevertheless, Dino-philes among us will relish heretofore unreleased versions of classics like "Raisins" and "In a Jar," and the inclusion of one composition by Lou Barlow, who later went on to write some pretty tunes for some other band whose name I can't remember. JOE S. HARRINGTON
LOUD FAMILY
Attractive Nuisance
(Alias)****
On this new album, Scott Miller, the guiding light of the Loud Family (and former Game Theory visionary), proves that the previous two brilliant albums--Interbabe Concern and Days For Days--were no flukes. This is an equally striking collection of the kind of genuine pop-rock craftsmanship that is all too rare in the increasingly stylist-oriented free-for-all of the current industry. You think Belle and Sebastian write intricate, hook-laden pop symphonies? Listen to the grandeur of Miller crooning "Blackness, Blackness." This is his specialty: the plaintive ballad, with a little whining thrown in. He's better at it than Eric Carmen ever was.
As a rock neo-classicist, Miller can't be underestimated. Whereas pop posers like the Minders, as well as the whole Elephant 6 crowd (Neutral Milk Hotel, Olivia Tremor Control), strive for a contrived spirit of "purity" (which basically means they're not even ambitious enough to tune their instruments), the Louds are unabashedly professional. Their albums take a while to wade through, precisely because the songs are so complex and intricate. JOE S. HARRINGTON
IN STORES 2/29
AC/DC, Stiff Upper Lip (Elektra) God's own power rockers return with their first studio album since 1995's Ballbreaker.
AIR, The Virgin Suicides (Astralwerks) Affected, annoying French hipsters Air score the first film of affected, annoying California hipster Sofia Coppola.
DEATHRAY, Deathray (Capricorn) The guitarist and bassist from innocuous pop band Cake are reborn as the vaguely menacing Deathray, probably ashamed of having covered "I Will Survive."
TIM FINN, Say It Is So (Periscope Recordings/Sonny's Pop) The former Split Endz singer leaves Auckland for Nashville and cuts A COUNTRY RECORD with guests, including members of Wilco.
TARA MACLEAN, Passenger (Capitol) "My first album was an exercise in finding hope from despair. When I stopped obsessing on my own pain, the beauty I was capable of just came out." YUCK!
OASIS, Standing on the Shoulder of Giants (Oasis) It's all well and good until Noel starts braying one of the worst songs ever recorded, then follows it up with one only slightly less bad.
ROLLINS BAND, Get Some Go Again (DreamWorks) Henry Rollins' social significance has passed, but angry, ostracized 13-year-old boys will always love him.
SMASHING PUMPKINS, Machina/The Machines of God (Virgin) Well, since Fiona Apple stole their original pretentious title....
STEELY DAN, Two against Nature (Giant) Twenty years since Gaucho.... I'm a fan, and even my face is all scrunched up.
THE THE, Naked Self (Nothing/Interscope) Matt Johnson gets krazy by working with an Iggy Pop guitarist, an MC 900 Ft. Jesus drummer, and a Kenny Rogers bassist.
