God doesn’t get a whole lot of face time here on Popdose – and truth be told, I’m as guilty of that as everyone else – and technically, this song is no exception. The artist who wrote it, though, Derek Webb, is somewhat of a giant within the Christian pop community. Or, at least that is my perception of him, since I don’t really have an insider’s perspective of the scene. I can see where he might be viewed as a (*adopts Tina Fey twang*) maverick for making pop records that focus on social injustice and loving thy brother rather than the tried and true method of treacly arrangements, melba toast instrumentation, and a heaping dose of “Jesus.” Webb’s 2007 album, The Ringing Bell, is a pop gem in the vein of Matthew Sweet and Neil Finn, and his 2008 EP with wife Sandra McCracken has the best song Sheryl Crow never wrote (“When the Summer’s Gone”). Dude’s got skills.

He also has balls the size of watermelons, because for his latest album, Stockholm Syndrome, Webb has raised his protest flag even higher, delivering some scorching anti-war rants. But the really strange thing about Stockholm is the sound; Webb has shelved his classic guitar pop in favor of something more, um, contemporary. Oh, let’s stop beating about the bush – it sounds like a Beck record. Cut & paste, drum machines…it’s as far removed from The Ringing Bell as possible. And in truth, it’s an effort that’s easier to like in spirit than in execution. As my best friend Tim rightfully observed, Stockholm Syndrome is one of those albums that actually sinks in better when it’s not listened to from start to finish.

And it was that way that I found a song that Webb should send to Justin Timberlake, stat.

“Jena & Jimmy” takes the discotastic simplicity of Spoon’s “I Turn My Camera On” and gives it a supercharged chorus that has Timberlake’s name written all over it. “If you give me your love, I’ll give you my love, I’ll give you my love / Gonna take one kiss to shut you up, and that will be enough.” Trust me, it sings much, much better than it reads and, Webb being Webb, he surrounds that brilliantly simple chorus with the story of a party boy trying to score with an activist. There is a bit of a disconnect with the intro – they met at an anti-war rally, but are suddenly in a club – but once Webb has them where he wants them, the story gets amusing, as she talks about constitutional rights and he keeps buying her drinks in the hopes that she’ll lighten (open?) up. Timberlake would probably rewrite those bits, since no radio programmer from here to Baghdad is touching a song that opens with a line about bringing the troops back from the war. But he would be wise to keep the chorus intact.

I can’t help but think that there is a subtext to the story of Jena and Jimmy here, that Jena is Webb and Jimmy is the music industry, eager to get him into bed but not nearly as interested in his causes. Just a thought.

Derek Webb: Jena & Jimmy

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In late 1992, the idea of Jesus Jones covering Jimi Hendrix was viewed one of two ways: it was either the most awesome idea ever, or grounds for justifiable homicide. (Bear in mind, this came a full year before the Hendrix tribute album Stone Free, where everyone from the Cure to PM Dawn took Jimi’s songs for a ride.) He’s the greatest guitarist of all time, and they…play keyboards! (*Shake fists at God*) As Popdose resident remix geek, I’m guessing you already know which side of this debate I’m on.

Jesus Jones’ historical legacy is of the one-hit wonder variety, but let’s remember something: their 1991 album Doubt was a damned fine record, and in fact spawned two Top Five hits, not one. (Whither, “Real Real Real”?) So if Mike Edwards decides in 1992 that he wants to tear a Jimi Hendrix song to ribbons, no one is going to tell him no, nor should they have. The end result, a version of “Voodoo Chile” that sounds like the Chemical Brothers before there were Chemical Brothers, stands as the second to last great thing Jesus Jones would do. (Forgive me, but I’m still fond of “The Devil You Know.”) The drum tracks rocked without delving into industrial noise, and the guitar squeals have an otherworldly sound that would have brought a smile to Jimi’s face. And let’s not forget what a unique vocalist Edwards was for the time. That raspy tenor of his was unmistakable.

Wow, I can’t believe I just dedicated two paragraphs to Jesus Jones. Let’s move on.

Only a handful of the covers on Disc Three play it relatively straight. Saint Bob Geldof gives the Kinks’ “Sunny Afternoon” a Celtic spin, and surprise, Karl Wallinger decided to cover something written by a Beatle, the Macca-penned “World without Love” that Peter & Gordon took to Number One. (Paul was dating Peter’s sister at the time.) Perhaps the straightest cover here is Ride’s dead-serious take on Kraftwerk’s “The Model,” and leave it to the music supervisors to put that track right after Elektric Music, which features two members of Kraftwerk, rip the ever-loving shit out of the Equals’ “Baby Come Back.” I’d love to know what former Equal Eddie Grant thinks of that cover.

In the why-didn’t-I-see-that-coming department, Curve turns in a faithful but hard-driving rendition of Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love,” and longtime mates Johnny Marr and Billy Duffy turn in a surprisingly beat-driven version of “The Good, the Bad & Ugly.” Meanwhile, in the ‘la-la-la-la-I-can’t-hear-you’ department is comedian Vic Reeves deciding to take Ultravox’s “Vienna” – the only song here not to hit Number One – and turn it into a bitch slap of Belgium (!). Who knows, maybe it’s an English thing. But from this side of the pond, it was a complete waste of time and space.

The disc’s last track has taken on an eerie subtext in the years since. The Manic Street Preachers cover “Suicide Is Painless,” blissfully unaware that Richey Edwards would disappear two years later and never be found. Frankly, I can’t listen to this without getting the chills.

In two weeks, we’ll tackle yet another out-of-print collection of covers that will have Anglophiles drooling. See you then!

1. Jesus Jones – Voodoo Chile
2. Bob Geldof – Sunny Afternoon
3. Johnny Marr & Billy Duffy – The Good, the Bad & the Ugly
4. Cud – Down Down
5. The Fall – Legend of Xanadu
6. Sinead O’Connor – Secret Love
7. World Party – World without Love
8. Inspiral Carpets – Tainted Love
9. Elektric Music – Come Back Baby
10. Ride – The Model
11. Vic Reeves – Vienna
12. Tin Machine – Go Now
13. Curve – I Feel Love
14. Manic Street Preachers – Suicide Is Painless

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As we discussed in the previous PGTW installment, Disc One of Ruby Trax was a rather inauspicious first step for such an ambitious project. They had their pick of the UK’s top acts, and they thought that letting the Fatima Mansions creep their way, both literally and figuratively, through Bryan Adams’ “Everything I Do (I Do It for You)” was not only a good idea, but worthy of the opening disc? Huh.

And in the interest of full disclosure, that would not be the last lapse in judgment they would have. In fact, Disc Two of Ruby Trax, while far more consistent than Disc One, opens with Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine covering… “Another Brick in the Wall.” (Brought to you by Bad Idea Jeans.) On the surface, you might think that the boys behind “Sheriff Fatman” might be able to inject a little fun into Pink Floyd’s dark disco juggernaut, but no. Instead, they slow it down to a snail’s pace, and for no reason whatsoever, they shout “Motherfucker!” after the second chorus. Next.

The next two songs have been the subject of much discussion and debate, even between the bands themselves. Blur tackles “Maggie May” minus bassist Alex James (he was vehemently opposed to covering Rod the Mod and refused to play on the song), and how much you like this cover depends greatly on your reverence for the original. Personally, I like “Maggie May” but heard it more than enough growing up, so I’ll take Blur’s cover gladly, though it sounds like they recorded it in about 20 minutes. Then comes Tears for Fears’ note-for-note cover of David Bowie’s “Ashes to Ashes,” and once again I will admit my bias. One of my favorite Bowie songs being covered by one of my favorite singers, ever. I couldn’t care less that it’s identical to the original, since it’s a pretty hard song to “make your own,” as it were. Apparently Roland Orzabal had tried doing something left-field with it, but it wasn’t working, so they went the Gus Van Zant “Psycho” route instead. Orzabal acknowledged that the band more or less took the easy way out with the Bowie cover when compiling B-sides for the band’s Saturnine Martial & Lunatic album, but then said, “Still, it’s better than Blur’s version of ‘Maggie May.’ (Or is it?)” Yes, Roland, it’s better. But I like your version too, Damon. I’m such a kiss-ass.

The House of Love shoegaze the bejeezus out of “Rock Your Baby,” and the Frank and Walters deliver a pretty pointless version of “I’m a Believer.” And then there’s Suede’s cover of “Brass in Pocket,” which has more pent-up sexual tension than anything Chrissie Hynde has ever recorded. (Funny how other artists tap the emotional core of Hynde’s songs better than she does. Look at Everything but the Girl’s version of “Kid” for another example.) On the other end of the spectrum, Tori Amos strips every ounce of sexuality out of “Ring My Bell,” while Marc Almond clearly thought that Madonna’s version of “Like a Prayer” wasn’t fabulous enough. As for EMF’s version of “Shaddup You Face,” well, I’m not sure what to say. On one hand, it’s rather fitting that a band with such a short shelf life would cover a novelty song. On the other hand, that’s a pretty cool beat they put to it, even if it ends with wave after wave of profanity.

Disc Two’s final two songs are arguably this disc’s finest. Ned’s Atomic Dustbin take Charlene’s “I’ve Never Been to Me” and rip it up in the best way imaginable, trading their basses and drums for keyboards and a drum machine. Boy George closes the affair with a sobering take on fellow Buddhist George Harrison’s “My Sweet Lord.” Rounding out the set are Kingmaker covering “Lady Madonna” and, in one of the set’s greatest missed opportunities, the Farm covering “Don’t You Want Me.” If this had a drum track half as fun as the one they assembled for “Groovy Train,” this could have been something special. Well, they would have needed to re-cut singer Peter Hooton’s pancake-flat vocals as well.

Coming up in two weeks: Disc Three, where Jesus Jones does the unthinkable, we get a Kraftwerk two-fer, and Vic Reeves pisses all over Ultravox.

1. Carter USM – Another Brick in the Wall
2. Blur – Maggie May
3. Tears for Fears – Ashes to Ashes
4. House of Love – Rock Your Baby
5. The Frank & Walters – I’m a Believer
6. EMF – Shaddup You Face
7. Suede – Brass in Pocket
8. Tori Amos – Ring My Bell
9. Kingmaker – Lady Madonna
10. Marc Almond – Like a Prayer
11. The Farm – Don’t You Want Me?
12. Ned’s Atomic Dustbin – I’ve Never Been to Me
13. Boy George – My Sweet Lord

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Allow me to explain. Modern rock radio was exploding, but as eager as they were to crown new kings, the format still had great respect for the bands that blazed the trail before a clear path existed. And the programmers didn’t look down their noses at a band if they had commercial success, either; Tears for Fears were just as welcome on the dial as The The. There were no subgenres under the British pop umbrella, either; British pop was British pop, with no separation of the “cool” from the “uncool.” And everyone had a shot at scoring a hit. It was a beautiful time.

Few compilations from the era demonstrate this all-for-one approach better than Ruby Trax, a three-disc compilation assembled by rock mag (or is it rag?) NME as a benefit to the Spastics Society. The magazine had turned the big 4-0, and to celebrate, they asked a bunch of bands – forty of them, natch – to cover a Number One single from the rock era. Many bands played to their strengths and covered material that was similar to their own; others went completely off the rails. Sometimes this was a good thing. Other times, not.

Disc One is, by this writer’s estimate, the weakest of the three. It starts out strongly enough with the Wonder Stuff’s fiddle-happy take on Slade’s “Coz I Luv You,” and Billy Bragg unleashes his inner disco dancer on, of all things, the Three Degrees’ ballad “When Will I See You Again.” The Jesus and Mary Chain – surprise! – get lost in feedback on a cover of Howling Wolf’s “Little Red Rooster” (the Stones took it to the top), and then the Mission goes absolutely supernova on their cover of Blondie’s “Atomic.” I still put the Mission and Stuffies covers on mix discs.

It’s at this point that things get a little weird. The Fatima Mansions turn in a cover of Bryan Adams’ “(Everything I Do) I Do It for You” that lands somewhere between St. Etienne and Public Enemy’s “Rebel Without a Pause.” Seventeen years later, I still can’t wrap my head around this. Does Mansions singer Cathal Coughlan really like this song, or is he just taking the piss out of it? If it’s the latter, did he really think a benefit record was the most proper forum for such a stunt? Thankfully, St. Etienne are next, taking Tony Bennett’s “Stranger in Paradise” and owning it from this point on. The Wedding Present runs through “Cumberland Gap” like they have a plane to catch (it’s over in 91 seconds), while Welfare Heroine, a band I hadn’t heard before or since, cover a song I haven’t heard before or since, Peter Starsedt’s 1969 ballad “Where Do You Go to My Lovely?.” I have no reference base for this one, but I can tell you that I just hit the fast-forward button, much like I did when I first got my hands on this. Danii Minogue’s cover of the Jacksons’ “Show You the Way to Go,” meanwhile, is rather cute from a historical perspective, as in ‘Isn’t it cute that this is how dance records used to sound?’ I’m not being facetious, by the way.

The Blue Aeroplanes decided to talk “Bad Moon Rising” rather than sing it, and I can’t say that was the best call. They also changed the tempo to a typical rock beat, which means it takes them five and a half minutes to get through a three-minute song. The instrumental “Apache” is worked over by the punk band Senseless Things, and anyone familiar with the Incredible Bongo Band version will be scratching their heads after listening to this. The disc ends with what seems like fitting cover, Teenage Fanclub doing “Mr. Tambourine Man”…but what’s with the vocals? After the big, lush harmonies of Bandwagonesque, the singing sounds tired here. Very strange.

Join us in two weeks when we break down Ruby Trax‘ far-superior Disc Two, which features Blur, Tears for Fears, House of Love, Tori Amos, Suede, the Farm, and one Buddhist covering another Buddhist.

1. The Wonder Stuff – Coz I Luv You
2. Billy Bragg – When Will I See You Again?
3. The Jesus and Mary Chain – Little Red Rooster
4. The Mission – Atomic
5. The Fatima Mansions – (Everything I Do) I Do It for You
6. St. Etienne – Stranger in Paradise
7. The Wedding Present – Cumberland Gap
8. Aztec Camera w/ Andy Fairweather-Low – (If Paradise Is) Half as Nice
9. Danii Minogue – Show You the Way to Go
10. Welfare Heroine – Where Do You Go to My Lovely?
11. The Blue Aeroplanes – Bad Moon Rising
12. Senseless Things – Apache
13. Teenage Fanclub – Mr. Tambourine Man

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There probably isn’t anything that happened to Sugarbomb during their brief tenure with RCA Records that didn’t happen to a thousand other bands, but the fact that it did happen to Sugarbomb shows just how far down the boom-bust rabbit hole the label had gone. They signed a band that was armed to the teeth with smart pop songs, so catchy that they bordered on insidious…and told them to dumb it down.

Look at those last three words again: the label actually told them their music was too good. This left chief songwriters Les Farrington (lead vocals, keys) and Daniel Harville (guitar, vocals) scrambling to come up with new songs in the studio, songs that were more, shall we say, easily digestible (and just as easily forgotten). Farrington and Harville whipped up some songs that pleased their (moronic) overlords without compromising their integrity, and the band was ready to roll. Bully was officially on the schedule, set for release…

…on September 25, 2001.

The band was dropped from the label two weeks later.

Let’s summarize the damage: RCA had, at the very least, a cult classic on their hands, but directed the band to ditch some of their better songs in favor of a couple potential here-and-now unit shifters. They then released one of those underwritten songs, “Hello,” as the lead single – despite the fact that Farrington only played it for them as a joke, after being instructed to dumb it down (he was fully expecting them to say, “Well, not that dumb”) – opting for short-term sales at the expense of the band’s long-term prospects. Finally, they use the frigid post-9/11 radio climate as an excuse to throw the band under the bus. Well played, gentlemen.

In fairness to RCA, there was logic, however misguided, in their acts: they had just scored a #1 hit with Vertical Horizon using the same approach – they even recruited Vertical Horizon bassist Sean Hurley to pinch-hit on Bully when Sugarbomb’s bassist came up short – so they surely heard the safe, inoffensive “Hello” and went all Tex Avery dollar sign-eyed goofy. Still, they had to know that songs like “Hello” were not the band’s forte, not when it’s sharing space on the same album as the multiple personality “Motor Mouth,” the in-denial breakup song “Over,” and “After All,” which is one of the best Queen tributes ever put to tape. In fact, looking at the album with the benefit of the inside information that Farrington and Harville provided this writer with about the errant direction they received, it’s clear which songs the band came into the studio with, and which ones were made up on the spot. “Bully,” “Clover” and “Gone” were, as Farrington said, “plug-and-play” numbers. And as we mentioned, “Hello” was never supposed to happen. What’s left behind once those songs are stricken from the record?

The album’s best songs, that’s what. “Waiting” has to be the only pop rock song that makes mention of the Kama Sutra (one of you astute readers will surely throw that claim back in my face), and “What a Drag” takes a sobering look at relationships and the inevitable changes they encounter. The band only takes the time for one ballad, but it’s a doozy. (Farrington said he had no intentions of recording it, but the producer liked it so much he said, “If I can record this song, I’ll do the rest of the album.”) “Posterchild for Tragedy” has a certain Mellow Gold melancholy without sounding like self-loathing, even though the lyrics are pretty depressing. (“Maybe there’s a hope that I can live in the shell you left of me / Maybe I could last a while as the poster child for tragedy.”) It serves as a nice wind-down after the first eight songs, and gives the listener a chance to take a breath before knocking them over with “Waiting” and “After All.”

Farrington and Harville seemed intent to make the best of a bad situation when I spoke with them in early 2002. They talked about how they were going to do it their way next time, and they even said that RCA was being very helpful in finding them a new home, and telling prospective labels how easy they were to work with. However, that good will did not last long, as the band had broken up before my interview with them went live. Strangely, all members of the band have kept surprisingly low profiles since the band’s demise, which seems impossible in a post-MySpace world. Harville is in a band called Cobralush that sounds like Shiny Toy Guns (though their MySpace page hasn’t been checked in over a month), and the last I heard from Farrington, he was back in Texas playing piano bars. His web site, as it were, hasn’t changed in years. This is all sorts of wrong. Doesn’t he see all of the shit bands that scrape up a couple hundred bucks and make a bedroom pop record that lights the blogosphere on fire? He could do that with his eyes closed.

I had originally intended to post Bully in its entirety, until I saw that it was available for download on Amazon. Instead, I’m posting the band’s hard-to-find indie debut Tastes Like Sugar (currently going for $41.50 and up on the resale market), which features the first recorded versions of the Bully tracks posted above. I also included a few demo recordings I scored somewhere along the way. Enjoy these songs for free, but do yourself (and the band) a favor and pony up for Bully.

Tastes Like Sugar
1. Motor Mouth
2. What a Drag
3. Over
4. Million to One
5. After All
6. Ordinary Man
7. Norman
8. Waiting
9. Mail Order Girlfriend
10. Tastes like Sugar
11. Allison Froze

Sugarbomb Demos
Danger
The Last Thing
Top Down

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That’s right, even towards the end of the internet-booming ’90s, many of us stuck to our old-school methods of poring through Billboard – still at the book store, of course, since it was prohibitively expensive to subscribe to the damn thing – and looked for the albums or singles that received the highly coveted star of approval. One day in early 1998, I stumbled upon a band called Blink, an Irish band that sparked “Next U2″ Bidding War #296,435,071. The write-up for The End Is High, the band’s second album, must have contained some Medsker-friendly buzz words (“New Order,” most likely), and I went straight out and bought a copy.

Now, I’m not saying that The End Is High didn’t deserve a star…okay, that’s exactly what I’m saying. In retrospect, it probably should have gotten a circle. The album definitely had its good points; it satisfied my New Order fix at a time when Barney & co. hadn’t recorded an album in five years, and Blink’s band-out-of-time approach was rather charming. But singer Dermot Lambert’s voice was even reedier than Barney’s, if that’s possible, and the album was clearly self-produced. U2 could sleep soundly. They band could sure bring it live, though; I saw them on some package tour with, I think, Matchbox Twenty or someone else equally mismatched, and they were fab. I even tried to buy Dermot a beer afterwards, but he already had one. We talked about Blur, as we were both big fans, but he had to get in the van for their next gig.

One song from the album, however, still gets the odd spin here and there, and that is “The Girl with the Backward Skin.” Nice backward cymbal intro, great quiet-LOUD opening and a powerful, climbing guitar line after the verses, not to mention a nifty false ending. “Always…” rat-tat-tat-tat-tat BOOM. Good stuff, which in 1998 was not easy to come by.

Blink – The Girl with the Backward Skin

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The early aughts were dark, dark times for fans of what is now called classic pop. Radio was a wasteland, and online social networking was in the zygote stages – chat rooms, eeeek! – so it was quite difficult for most bands to find their audience, and vice versa. I subscribed to CMJ Monthly for the CD of the month and the dozens of reviews, and when I needed a power pop fix, I went over to NotLame, Bruce Brodeen’s utopia for all things Beatle-y. It was there that I found a three-year-old album by an Australian trio that did a wicked impression of a certain New Zealand trio. I could only hear the songs in 30-second samples, but they did the trick. I plunked down the coin for Sweeter Than the Radio (1999), and suddenly felt like I had been let in on the best-kept secret in the world. That’s what every band wants, right? To be the best-kept secret in the world? What? They all want to sell millions of records? Ugh. Fucking musicians. It’s all about them, isn’t it?

All kidding aside, Charles Jenkins, the singer and primary songwriter for Icecream Hands, wrote one hell of a batch of songs for this album, with bassist Douglas Robertson contributing a few key tracks as well. Of all the tributes to Crowded House that grace Sweeter Than the Radio, though, there is none more Finn than “Dodgy,” a bouncy slice of guitar pop with a fittingly neurotic lyric to counter the joy (“Feels like it wouldn’t be right if it were wonderful” is the opening line to the verses). Even the guitar solo sounds like it was ripped straight from Crowded House’s first album. “Rise, Fall and Roll” plays like a reworking of the “new” Beatles song “Free as a Bird,” while Robertson’s “Yellow and Blue” borrows a riff from the Squeeze catalog. Here is a side-by-side comparison of the riff in question, for the curious.

Icecream Hands – Yellow and Blue
Squeeze – Another Nail in My Heart

The similarities between the songs, thankfully, end there.

The one song that always fascinated me, even though it sounds like it’s from the perspective of an fifth or sixth grade boy, is “Nipple.” The opening lines tell it all – “You missed a button, I saw a nipple, and it’s true / I didn’t look away, I could have stared at it all day.” – and while those words surely look ridiculous on a laptop screen, the melody Jenkins pairs them with is flat-out gorgeous. Plus, and I’m clearly showing my age here, but I like the song’s innocent nature. With a song title of “Nipple” or not, I’d rather have my son listening to this than, say, “If You Seek Amy.”

The album isn’t one long mash note to Finn, however. Pete Yorn fans will find lots to love in the “Life on a Chain”-esque “Spiritlevel Windowsill” (the song pre-dates Yorn’s track by two years, in fact), while the Byrds are represented on “Picture Disc of the Benelux” (“Your Sweetheart of the Rodeo is riding into town”). It’s pop rock of the highest order…and completely out of style with everything that’s been hip and cool for the last ten years. Pity. Still, fans of Finn, Paul Simon, the Beatles and Byrds need to check this album out post haste.

I was planning on posting Sweeter Than the Radio in its entirety, and then I saw that it’s for sale at Amazon’s download store (see link above), which is interesting, because I do not believe the album was ever for sale on CD in the US. Since I’m betting the band has never seen a penny from US sales, I don’t have the heart to rub salt in the wound by giving the whole thing away for nothing. Especially when I haven’t told you about “Gasworks Park,” “The Obvious Boy,” “Giving It All Away,” “Can Anyone Be Hypnotized” or “You Could Be Reported.” There are many, many more good songs to be explored here. Dig in, pop boys and pop girls.

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The weirdest part for me is that Johns just turned 30 this year. How much had I accomplished by the time I turned 30? Less than Johns, let’s put it that way.

When Silverchair went on hiatus after their 2002 Diorama album, Johns teamed up with Paul Mac, a keyboardist and remixer that has served for years as Silverchair’s unofficial fourth member, to make The Dissociatives, an electronic pop album that sifts Radiohead’s Kid A/Amnesiac weirdness through a decidedly brighter color scheme. Johns lets it all hang out here on a number of levels; the songs are some of the chirpiest things he’s ever done – Silverchair would never record something as lightweight as the whistle-happy instrumental “Lifting the Veil from the Braille” – and good Lord, look at those song titles. “Horror with Eyeballs”? “Aaangry Megaphone Man”? No wonder no one bought this album. It sounds like the soundtrack to an amusement park ride that kills its customers, rather than the art work with a capital ‘A’ that it is. Ten bucks says the members of 10cc like this record.

This album went out of print in what seemed like weeks after its release, which is a pity, because I thought they were a good fit for Astralwerks, but oh well. Here is The Dissociatives. Listen, enjoy, tell your friends. And go look up their videos on YouTube (embedding is disabled) if you want to see some freaky animation. That’s it. Short write-up this week, kids. The day job beckons.

1. We’re Much Preferred Customers
2. Somewhere Down the Barrel
3. Horror with Eyeballs
4. Lifting the Veil from the Braille
5. Forever and a Day
6. Thinking in Reverse
7. Paris Circa 2007 Slash 08
8. Young Man Old Man (You Ain’t Better Than the Rest)
9. Aaangry Megaphone Man
10. Sleep Well Tonight

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Fast-forward to the end of the century, and Green stuns the world by finally releasing Anomie & Bonhomie (1999), the band’s first album in 11 years. And if people were stunned by the sight of a Scritti Politti album in 1999, they were probably dumbfounded by its sound. Green abandoned the hyper-arranged synth stylings of Cupid & Psyche ’85 (1985) and Provision (1988) in order to get down and dirty with a bunch of contemporary hip-hoppers, primarily Mos Def. In Green’s defense, there were elements of the signature Green style in songs like “First Goodbye” and “Mystic Handyman,” and truth be told, this “new direction” should not have come as a complete surprise, given Green’s love for R&B.

Still, the album was a shock to the system, to say the least. Even the non-hip-hop songs had little in common with vintage Scritti – the hard-driving “Here Come July” sounded like Green fronting a completely different band – but there was one moment where Green seamlessly combined his past with the present, and that was on the opening song “Umm.” The song is built like a Big Mac; the beginning, middle and end are a dub-ish interlude, the verses and pre-choruses are pure acoustic guitar-driven power pop (including a key change in the latter the second time around), and the chorus sports an irregular time signature and the words, “I wrote you a letter, and I told you you were dead,” followed by Green’s trademark ooh la la-la-la vocals.

And this is all good. But the special sauce is what knocks the song out of the park.

After the second chorus comes something that you have never heard in your life on a Scritti Politti album. Riffing off the guitar line in the first part of the chorus, Green sits back and lets the band go to work. The guitar line is louder, grittier, the drums pound a slow but determined beat, and a female guest – the credits do not say who performs on which songs, but I’m pretty sure that it’s Me’Shell Ndegeocello – lets rip with a ferocious spoken-word bit (it’s close to rap, but not really). Again, absolutely unlike anything Scritti Politti has done before or since…and it might be the coolest thing they’ve ever done.

Rob Sheffield once commented in his Rolling Stone column that Anomie and Bonhomie “blows homeless goats.” I can appreciate the sore disappointment that anyone hoping for another “Absolute” or “Perfect Way” might feel upon listening to this, but come on, Rob, it was 1999. What did you honestly expect from them? Isn’t it funny how we demand certain bands to evolve, while others must remain exactly the same? Unfortunately for Green, he’s stuck in the latter category; luckily for him, he couldn’t care less.

Scritti Politti – Umm

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So begins the second and final chapter on our tribute to one of Boston’s finest. It was 1993, and in those pre-internet days, information on your favorite band when they were between projects was rather hard to come by. (There is a part of me that actually misses that, but I digress.) The band continued to play around town – their most frequent opening act was a similarly styled rock band called Letters to Cleo – and had been working some new material into their sets, namely “Miracle of Sound,” “Smile” (more on that one later) and “Sing to Neptune.” They were also playing around more with other people’s songs. I saw them perform “Goldfinger,” which they had recorded in the studio as well, and “To Sir with Love.” My brother, however, saw them cover Roxy Music’s “Out of the Blue,” and I still kind of hate him to this day for it.

Then the Pixies broke up. Suddenly, Tribe were the biggest band in town (yes, even bigger than the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, who would make the jump a couple years later), and their new album had been finished for release that summer. It was their time to shine, baby! No way anything was going to stop them now. I rushed to Newbury Comics to pick up my copy of Sleeper on the day of its release (which I think was the same day that U2′s Zooropa came out, but I’m not sure), and literally yoinked a copy of the CD from the front display.

Then I took a look at the cover. What the hell is this?

The first sign that all was not well in Tribeland was right there in front of me. This is not the album cover of a band that is on good terms with its record label. Five naked mannequins with the band members’ faces cut and pasted on the heads? Yikes. This album isn’t going gold, no matter whose music you put inside it. Okay, flip it over, what does the back cover look like? Much better, picture of the band – though Greg looks like he’s been hypnotized, and for some reason, everybody looks wet – and wow, it was produced by John Porter, the man that helmed “How Soon Is Now?” and several other Smiths gems. (He also produced Roxy Music, strangely enough.) Hmmm, maybe things are all right after all. I popped the disc in as soon as I got home.

All right: that about sums it up. Sleeper is not without its charms; the two singles, “Red Rover” and the driving “Supercollider,” were the best chances the album had of scoring a radio hit, though neither of them would have nudged a single track off of Abort had they been proposed for their debut. (Who knows, maybe they were written around the same time, in which case the band was wise to bump them to album #2). “Romeo Poe” is another personal fave, as is the haunting ballad “Nevermind.” The album’s closer was “Sing to Neptune,” and the version here bested all of the pre-album live performances I had seen.

One thought kept bubbling to the surface, though: did John Porter really produce this album? It’s all so dense and murky, a stark contrast to both the production on Abort and Porter’s work with the Smiths. The drum tracks sound particularly cluttered, which surprised me considering that drummer Dave Penzo seemed to be coming into his own in some of the band’s more recent gigs…or so it seemed. I later learned that Penzo had been kicked out of the band before the album had been completed (apparently he had been acting a little too much like a rock star), which would explain the ‘Additional drums and percussion by Ben Wittman’ credit in the liner notes. Let this be a lesson to all you drummers out there: never wear sunglasses during an indoor gig.

Another problem is the songwriting. The dynamic had shifted considerably between albums, as our cute little couple Eric and Terri had become the dominant voices, while Greg only contributed two and a half songs. And one of those songs, the aforementioned “Smile,” was done no favors in the studio. It had a nice verse but a lousy chorus – more of the chain gang stuff, but with Janet squawking into a megaphone while Greg and Eric yell nonsense words – and under normal circumstances it probably would have been scrapped. I’m guessing band politics led to its inclusion, lest they go down the “My voice isn’t being heard” path. Then again, it’s not as though Eric and Terri had something to take its place, since their own song “Making a Plan” had no business making the record, either. It appears their wells both ran dry at the same time. I saw them once or twice after Sleeper came out, with new drummer Mike Levesque, and the shows were good. But something was definitely off.

I moved to New York in early 1994 (six longest months of my life), and got a call from my brother back in Boston that Tribe had broken up. Damn, that didn’t take long. I continued turning people on to the band (well, Abort, anyway), and heard rumors for years about a Janet LaValley solo album, but nothing materialized. Flash-forward to 2005, and my editor at Bullz-Eye and I are throwing around ideas for new features. I came up with the idea of Lost Bands for the sole purpose of finding out what the hell happened to my favorite Boston band. As it turned out, I was not alone in the quest to catch up with them, and fortunately, a man named Steve Latham took it upon himself to set up a site in the band’s honor, including hard-to-find mp3s, their promotional videos, and even a bootleg of their final live performance. Janet has also since set up a web site within Steve’s site, and it’s worth checking out solely for the pictures of her incredible Halloween costumes (click on the Page II tab). Amy Winehouse never looked so good. Ever.

Shortly after the initial Lost Bands piece ran, I sent an email to Boston modern rock station (and ardent Tribe supporters) WFNX with a link to it, asking if they knew how to get a hold of the band. Greg promptly wrote me back, and agreed to an email interview in early 2006. He set the record straight that I was not the only one unhappy with Sleeper‘s sound, and admitted that the band’s goose was pretty much cooked when Slash did not pick up the option for their third album. He also mentioned that he loved touring and is baffled by the notion that they have a cult following. (“We do?”) As I mentioned last week, Greg, Eric and Terri got into video game design and are doing just fine, thank you very much. I believe Janet works in publishing in New York (there are mp3s of songs from her unreleased solo album on her site), and last I heard, Dave lives in New Hampshire with his kids. Funny to think about that interview back then, just as the original “Guitar Hero” was released. I wonder if Greg and Eric had any idea how much their lives were about to change.

In truth, Sleeper never had a prayer simply because it had to follow such an extraordinary album. Had this been their debut…you know what, never mind, it still wouldn’t have done terribly well, but the album has quite a few bright spots, if you can get around the production. Thank you Janet, Eric, Terri, Greg and Dave for some great tunes and providing the soundtrack to my life in Boston. I’ll listen to these albums until the day I die. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?

1. Miracle of Sound
2. Red Rover
3. Crawl
4. Supercollider
5. Dogflower
6. Smile
7. Making a Plan
8. Romeo Poe
9. Nevermind
10. Mr. Lieber
11. Sleeper
12. Sing to Neptune

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