Soundbites
By Daily Bruin Staff
Jan. 28, 2004 9:00 p.m.
Ani DiFranco “Educated Guess” Righteous
Babe
For those who have yet to be won over by Ani DiFranco’s
unapologetic lyrics and stabbingly melodic voice, here’s your
21st chance to realize the woman has too much creativity to ever
even want to sound like anybody else. DiFranco is a golden needle
in a haystack of singer-songwriters who, despite their good
intentions, have blended into one mass chorus of minor chords and
sentimental whining. “Educated Guess,” like all
DiFranco’s work, does not shy from dark themes, but her
defiant guitar picking and major chord insistence encourages
confrontation with these issues rather than easy melancholic
indulgence. The album starts off with a spoken word piece,
“Platforms,” in which she tells how “she suited
up for the long walk back to herself.” Following is
“Swim,” a quirky and energetic song that seems to be
about finding oneself again in the aftermath of a co-dependent
relationship. Whether upbeat or reflective, each song was recorded,
mixed and played entirely by DiFranco, and she perfectly
incapsulates her feelings with surprisingly rich music and
intelligent lyrics. Yet compared to her 1995 landmark album
“Not A Pretty Girl,” DiFranco has toned down her gritty
and unflinching style, so some older fans may be disappointed. But
“Educated Guess” proves DiFranco doesn’t need to
be jolting and revolutionary to make a memorable album. Indeed, as
her songwriting skills mature and grow, so will her audience.
““ Erin Glass
John Vanderslice “Cellar Door”
Barsuk
John Vanderslice is a musician so in love with the recording
process that he once recorded an ode to his four-track tape machine
entitled “Me and My 424.” On “Cellar Door,”
his guitar and piano-based pop finally catches up to his obsession
with tape loops and studio trickery. The strength of “Cellar
Door” is in its reconciliation between warm, heartfelt songs
and layers upon layers of subtle instrumentation. Backward
recordings and cut-up vocal tracks merge seamlessly with acoustic
guitars and his clear, melodic singing. Vanderslice is at his most
genuine in the prettier songs, like the percussionless “Wild
Strawberries.” The sound of a tape rewinding skitters across
several moments of the song, catching the ear and returning it
directly into his insistent piano chords and despondent vocals.
“June July,” a beautifully finger-picked ballad,
becomes hypnotically powerful with the addition of a new horn or
string part in each verse. The songwriting is equally mesmerizing.
“I’ve never felt this good before/I’ve never been
at peace, inside” he intones on the triumphant “When It
Hits My Blood.” Vanderslice seems to be content at last, and
with the greatness of the expertly crafted “Cellar
Door,” he has every reason to be. ““ David
Greenwald
The Crystal Method “Legion of Boom”
V2
Even in its prime ““ which came and went circa 1997, with
the release of its debut album “Vegas” ““ The
Crystal Method wasn’t a particularly original or relevant
group, and not much more than a crude substitute for its chemical
brothers across the Atlantic. But with its early work, the band at
least had the tunes and breaks to back up the hype it received
riding the end of the big-beat/electronica wave of the mid
’90s. Their third LP, “Legion of Boom,” finds
them essentially depleted of any good beats or ideas and yet again
rehashing one of popular music’s most quickly exhausted
genres. It sounds like a limp rip-off of “Vegas”
““ itself something of a rip-off ““ but a good five or
six years after that particular sound ran its course. Not that the
material is offensively bad. The rocking, wailing “Born Too
Slow” moves well enough, as does the more industrial
“True Grit.” A slew of guest stars including Wes
Borland, Rahzel and Milla Jovovich break up some of the monotony.
But for the most part, the beats on their latest are boring and
impotent. Add to that the complete irrelevance of the dated style
they continue to pursue, and “Legion of Boom” becomes
less a truly bad record and more simply a waste of time. ““
Alfred Lee