CLEM SNIDE
The Ghost of Fashion
(spinArt)
****

The New York quartet known as Clem Snide (it's a Burroughs reference) specializes in smart, spare, country-flavored arrangements that sport the odd flourish of horns and strings. The lyrics, written by lead Snider Eef Barzelay, are similarly smart and spare, but their flourishes lie in their subject matter, and the thread of real emotion that Barzelay is able to weave through the crafty sardonica by way of poetic inflection. On The Ghost of Fashion, the band's third LP and the first since Clem Snide extracted itself from the festering sink hole that is Sire Records (where the band's titanic Your Favorite Music LP sat basically unreleased for two years; good news--the band got it back and spinART has put it out proper), Barzelay's rhyme scheme seems almost reflexively wry, with song titles like "Joan Jett of Arc" and "Junky Jews" (which is at least partially about the heroin problems of one Corey Feldman) leading the way. But throughout the humor (and come on, it's funny--"the junky Jews, so much to lose," the second phrase rubbing against the first like a Jewish grandmother scolding her wayward grandson) Barzelay wields his talent for revealing the complexity of feeling that a sense of humor is always being called in to guard. "I'm feeling like the ice cube in your glass, melting away/I could close my eyes and go to sleep right here in the ash tray," he sings on "Ice Cube" (with its Carveresque refrain, "What do you mean when you talk about love?"), pulling together a literary influence, a poetic eye, and an unmistakable pop sensibility--the troika of elements that makes Clem Snide great. SEAN NELSON

PAULA FRAZER
Indoor Universe
(Birdman Records)
***

As the leader and only consistent member of lo-fi country-rockers Tarnation, Paula Frazer recorded two albums and a smattering of singles and EPs. 1995's brooding 4AD release Gentle Creatures drew on Frazer's roots (she grew up in Georgia and Arkansas) for a Southern gothic flavor lighted by her ghostly vocals, recalling Patsy Cline and Roy Orbison. After internal rifts led to the departure of the rest of the band, Frazer found other backing talent and recorded 1997's Mirador. The album was more upbeat, blending Hispanic and spaghetti Western soundtrack influences into an early-'70s country-rock palette. With Frazer's solo debut, she returns to a smaller independent label that started as a neo-folk bastion with a roster that included former Avengers singer Penelope Houston. It's an emotionally charged album whose atmospherics tap a lo-fi correspondent to Daniel Lanois' production of Willie Nelson's Teatro. Indoor Universe is what its title suggests that it is: a work that is introspective without being navel-gazing. The gauzy instrumentation is a suitable bed for Frazer's ethereal vocals. The haunted quality of her silvery voice is more pronounced here than it was with Tarnation. The waltzes and torchy balladeering are heart-stilling and beautiful. The dusty organ on the Southern blues of "Mean Things" is a perfect correlative to the lyrics and Frazer's singing, creating one of many sublime moments on the record. NATE LIPPENS

NEW TOWN ANIMALS
Is Your Radio Active?
(Mint)
***

New Town Animals must have Psychic Network's Cleo as their manager because their timing couldn't be more perfect. This is the sound that the kids, burned out on SoCal blandness and predictable rock and roll, have been craving. It would appear that New Town Animals find the energy to write their songs by taking their Cocksparrer, Generation X, and Stiff Little Fingers records, crushing them up, mixing the dust with bathtub crank, and snorting it. Except those bands worked without textbooks, while New Town Animals rely upon the work of those bands--their sound is a carbon copy with calculations. Like Vancouver brethren the Black Halos, they take their researched sound and overproduce it, leaving the rawness to the vocals and tempo. Which is fine. There are plenty of good bands that already do this (the Swinging Utters and Moral Crux are good examples), but as a warning: You shouldn't expect this to be the revolution. KEVIN FLUSH

SIMON JOYNER
Hotel Lives
(Truckstop-Atavistic Records)
***

Omaha, Nebraska's Simon Joyner creates thorny folk-rock that evokes Texas troubadour Townes Van Zandt's smart yet heartfelt blend of character-driven narrative and sadness-soaked autobiography. The crooned rounds of circumstance and disappointment that Joyner's narrators detail scrupulously leave the dots unconnected, relaying a sense of untidy experiences and unfinished business. Hotel Lives is a departure from the lo-fi production of his previous efforts, and it works splendidly. The tremolo and reverb on the electric guitars complements Joyner's laconic delivery. It is a spacious sound that gives the listener easier access to the emotional erosion felt in the lyrics, without getting claustrophobic or maudlin. The song structures take unexpected turns on Hotel Lives as well. The compositions tease and surprise the listener with skewed stops and starts that imbue the narratives with extra tension. Fred Lonberg-Holm's horn and string arrangements bring to mind Van Dyke Parks reconfigured by Pete Anderson. Joyner's voice has settled into a mid-range that conveys the heart-bruising with subtlety, leaving behind the Will Oldham and Conor Oberst wailing of his earlier songs. He sounds more like a Midwestern Mark Eitzel taking his sorrow straight up against a backdrop of perfectly rendered and simpatico music. NATE LIPPENS