Sound Bites

The Cardigans "First Band on the Moon"
(Mercury)

More of the same from Sweden’s loungey kitsch-pop quintet, but
for those of us who have already played last year’s release,
"Life," to shreds, that’s just fine. The Cardigans’ major label
debut isn’t a big stretch from their previous 60s-style pop–
delicate, melodic and upbeat, a tad too fluffy and icky sweet, but
all the more addictive because of it. There’s a bit more of an edge
than "Life" had on tracks like "Been It" and "Loser," which add
electric guitars to the usual blend of strings, horns and twinkley
chimes and bells that give each tune that freshly-scrubbed, Doris
Day feel. Vocalist Nina Persson actually squeaks out teensy barbs
like "whore" and "they’re fucked up and annoying" with her usual
innocuous cooing that makes Day sound like a depressed hooker. Even
Black Sabbath’s "Iron Man" becomes a laid back soundtrack for
Saturday tobacco pipe-smoking in an expensive silk robe. "Never
Recover," one of the cooler cuts, recalls "Sick and Tired" with its
melody, peppy drums, minor/major shifts and seventh chords.
"Lovefool" adds a disco beat and harmonies Olivia Newton-John would
envy, all fleshed out with arrangements that hint of polyester.
Excellent (or is it groovy?). What makes The Cardigans irresistible
is their unapologetic deliverance of what must be the epitome of
retro pop that even those who turn up their noses at pop secretly
dig. They make you want to put on Nancy Sinatra’s go-go boots and
seduce young Stanford law grads. Why measure the greatness of a
band by anything else?

K.F. A

Cake "Fashion Nugget" (Capricorn)

Why aren’t these guys millionaires? Oh yeah, they have a
refreshing sense of humor and originality that aren’t allowed in
these parts. Better for you– race out and snatch up their
down-to-earth, all-American, trumpet-spattered funk before it’s
discovered by the huddled masses teeming to be free from the likes
of Bush and Hootie. Who but the most innovative and fearless could
weave the disco classic "I Will Survive" and a Willie Nelson tune
into the same album? Cake pulls its rump-jiggling rhythms from
everywhere from 60s rock to rodeos. Their mix of electric and
acoustic guitar provides not mere strumming and power chords, but
haunting or infectious counter-melodies and rhythms as in "Daria"
and "Nugget." There are more serious and minor tunes on this album
than on their debut, "Motorcade of Generosity," and they cover more
musical and lyrical ground. "Frank Sinatra" is a prime example of
Cake’s mastery of rhythm and harmony, but the lyric "the land where
large, fuzzy dice still hang proudly like testicles from rear view
mirrors" ("Race Car Ya-Yas") takes the … uh … cake.

K.F. A

Tears for Fears "Saturnine Martial and Lunatic"
(Fontana/ Mercury)

Collections of B-sides always inspire a shudder. They can be
eclectic samplings of a band’s canned experiments– decent songs
that didn’t fit the mood of an album, alternate mixes of hits that
allow the band to stretch a bit– or they can be a consolidated and
punishing reminder of why the stuff was canned in the first place.
Most are a little of both, as is this one. The majority of the
songs are informal, thinly produced dance-type tracks that evolved
during recording sessions, according to the dry but informative
liner notes. Many songs are mostly instrumental and more
atmospheric than focused or structured, which makes for great
"wallpaper music," stuff to put on while you’re reading or
rearranging your fridge. "The Marauders" is one of the most simple,
but also one of the most enchanting. Completely instrumental, it
smacks a bit of early Depeche Mode with its unusual choice of
instruments and samples. In many songs, samples of everything from
car doors slamming to Simple Minds appear in straightforward or
mutated form, and a healthy helping of keyboards and cheesy drum
machines remind us how far back the ’80s really are. None of us
wants to be subjected to puberty again, but going back to some of
the moods and sound constructions the Reagan decade had to offer
once in a while wouldn’t hurt.

K.F. B

Sublime "Sublime" (MCA)

Sublime’s tragically final album makes you realize how much
reggae and ska have in common. The album is split between the
laid-back reggae-influenced beats of "Wrong Way" and "Santeria" and
the manic pace of ska tunes "Seed" and "Same in the End." Then
there’s "Paddle Out," which is more punk than anything else. Many
songs blend all of these sounds, speeding through choruses, then
mellowing for verses. The record leans more toward guitars than the
brass so common in similar bands, but they retain the light, punchy
sound of bands like Fishbone or The Specials. Sublime’s social
consciousness covers everything from the ’92 riots to "finding
roaches in the pot" with the usual mix of unpretentiousness and
levity of most ska and reggae bands. Tunes like "Burritos" and "The
Ballad of Johnny Butt" reassure that not everyone is humorless and
running into therapy. Songs that do broach subjects like
depression, restlessness or social ills retain the Sublime wit that
keeps them from getting too soggy or too far away from the
hopelessly life-affirming sound of the music. There’s a whopping 17
tracks on this album, clocking in at everything from "Paddle Out"’s
frantic 1:15 to "Pawn Shop"’s leisurely 6:06– more bang for your
buck. Finally, Sublime wins the "aw, how cute" award for mentioning
their dogs in three of their songs and including four photos of
them in the CD booklet.

K.F. B+

Reviews by Kristin Fiore. Soundbites runs on Mondays and
Wednesdays.