December 28, 1997 Record Reviews part three.
	Prefab Sprout Andromeda Heights Kitchenware, kwcd-30 by Keith McLachlan. "nobody cares that pop music this shimmering and divine is something to be championed instead of ignored"	This record is dedicated to a couple of carpenters, no not Karen, but rather the guys who built Paddy McAloon's (accent on the loon) new studio which also happens to be called Andromeda Heights. It has been seven years, and well there is hardly anyone who would claim that there is any of the 'Second Coming'-like hype surrounding this release, cause basically nobody cares about Prefab Sprout for this is a mean and heartless world we live in.    Nobody cares that the last Sprout record 'Jordan the Comeback' is one of the top five records released this decade, nobody cares that Paddy McAloon has never released a bad record, nobody cares that pop music this shimmering and divine is something to be championed instead of ignored, basically nobody cares except me and the fervent few who make up a pretty devoted cult of Sprout worshippers.    The motif this time around is all things celestial and their relationship to the fifth fundamental force of the universe-love. All of these songs are unapologetic love songs, not written to anyone in particular but rather towards the celebration of the whole concept of love. In 'The Mystery of Love' Paddy croons 'If I live long enough to someone explain the secrets of the skies, I won't be too impressed, I've got a tougher test, the mysteries of love,' in the preposterously beautiful 'Swans' he relates the story of the everlasting bonds between Swans and it is startling.    All of the songs are dotted with references to the stars and heaven and cosmology in general, and I swear Paddy must be an 'X-Files' fan for I hear snippets that seemed to be culled from that show's theme on four of the songs. Seven Years is a long time to wait, but Paddy almost made that wait seem worthwhile. Heavenly.
	Super Furry Animals Radiator Creation, crecd214 by Keith McLachlan. "And well the sequel arrives just a little over a year later and it is even better. Yes, better! "	You know how on most debut albums most loathsomely average bands sorta crank out twelve versions of the hit single that got them their fat record deal. And you know how miserable this makes you feel? Cause you had them pinned as the great white hopes of this generation and really they just happened to stumble on a opportune arrangement of chords and some sort of divine intervention prevented the lyrics from seeming so banal the first time around. Those bands are weenies, sure enough, and even more certain is the fact that Super Furry Animals are not one of those bands.    Last year's freakazoid debut 'Fuzzy Logic' was so brimming with madness and brilliant pop ideas that it seemed that any minute the whole thing would collapse in on itself from the gravity of it all. But it didn't. And well the sequel arrives just a little over a year later and it is even better. Yes, better! And different, the spaces that were so aware on the debut have disappeared, filled in with the crazy doodlings of a madman name Cian armed with a whole boatload of electronic noises and gizmoramas.    Gruff is a lyricist with no equal in the stream of consciousness made topical realm of storytelling, so we get tunes about goat-eating bats, Einstein's parents, being an outcast and the eternal human bond of screaming. The album opens with the loveliest bit of furrydelica yet, an instrumental called 'Furryvision' and then seamlessly moves through the remainder beginning with 'the Placid Casual' which displays their new adeptness at multi-segmented songs with weird tempo changes and odd vocal interjections with a variety of vocal treatments. The two fabulous singles are here as well.    The whole affair is a bit more manic than the debut record and only recedes when the last three songs reveal themselves to be plaintive pastoral numbers of reflection. Gruff turns social commentator in his inimitable style 'there are people who think and people who don't and the ones who don't are the ones who have the most' and the effect is mesmerizing. One word-fabulous!
	Simon Warner Waiting Rooms Rough Trade. by Keith McLachlan. "this album sails off into the depths of condescension, unlike any seen since Natalie Merchant campaigning for the post of Secretary of State on 10000 Maniac's 'Blind Man's Zoo'"	For the past few months I have been kinda down, lamenting the fact that I have not been able to really sink my teeth into a vicious, biting review in a manner that might help to prevent a stroke brought on by pent up vitriol. Well then all I can say, with the gratitude of my personal well being, is thank God for Simon Warner and his pathetic lust for being British. This record is truly dreadful.    Why? Well for starters, the voice. It sounds like Julian Cope doing karaoke versions of Neil Diamond songs with the Tindersticks on Prozac as his backup band. Almost immediately with the first emanations from the mouth this album sails off into the depths of condescension, unlike any seen since Natalie Merchant campaigning for the post of Secretary of State on 10000 Maniac's 'Blind Man's Zoo' but here instead of telling everyone how to live, Mr. Warner basically champions the fact that he is British and thus he is far superior to anyone who might listen to this record, and that as a Brit he also sincerely believes he possesses a Herculean wit unmatched, certainly not among we plebians, by anyone.    Perhaps you need be a Brit and fond of people talking down to you in order to appreciate this record, but as a mindless, torpid yank I find Mr. Warner's stories to be so pedestrian and trite and uninvolving that I can not imagine why he felt anyone would be inspired of find anything of interest in his pedantic ramblings. Apparently Mr. Warner is a bit of a recluse, I suppose he is trying to play the role of tortured artist, but after listening to this record I wonder maybe if the seclusion is not the result of embarrassment, terrified to leave the house for fear that someone might recognize he as the source of this pile of dreck. The music is not bad, and surely it is the source for the multiple comparisons to Divine Comedy that I have seen, but where Neil Hannon's tunes soar and glide effortlessly, this stuff just tanks quite consistently.
	Future Bible Heroes My Memory of Love Slow river/Rykodisc, srr 24 by Keith McLachlan. "This record is good, most Stephin Merrit records are, but it is not as good as it should be, or surely not as good as I wish it to be."	At least that is what I believe the title to be, it is not specifically spelled out on the disc but rather it is part of a collection of puzzles seemingly present to help you pass the time while listening to this fine, if somewhat perplexing lp. First off, why isn't this a Magnetic Fields record, it sure sounds like one. Second why does Stephin bother singing? Because the other vocalists do a much better job, especially the formerly silent Claudia Gonson, who is to be treasured just for the opening track 'Lonely Days' alone, and who does perhaps an unintentional rendition of Susan Anway on 'Real Summer.'    But like most recent Stephin Merrit releases this record is baffling. Why, when he has such an innate sense of melody and pop dynamics, does Stephin with an I keep reducing his palette of musical textures? Why does he continue to rely so heavily on familiar synthesized sounds that were so effectively bludgeoned to monotony in the 80s? Why has he restricted the scope of his records consistently since the startling debut Magnetic Fields lp 'Distant Plastic Trees?'    Who knows, who cares, this record is good, most Stephin Merrit records are, but it is not as good as it should be, or surely not as good as I wish it to be. The puzzles in fact might have a different purpose, maybe they exist to distract the listener from the fact that they may be simply listening to what is commonly known as product, churned out so effortlessly by the Stephin Merrit songwriting express.
	Bark Psychosis Game Over 3rd Stone. by Keith McLachlan. "This release is a money grab by their despicable record company, don't be fooled."	This is the second review I have written for this record, but I think this one is truer to my real feelings on the matter than the pass I gave them in my first attempt. There is absolutely no point to the release of this record. Most of the songs on here have previously been released, not as rare b-sides or collectibles but on other Bark Psychosis Lps. To repackage songs like 'I Know', 'ManMan' and 'Street Scene' seems not only redundant but fraudulent.    Take my advice, Bark Psychosis were an absolutely brilliant band, and this record displays that but get their Lp 'Hex' and the compilation 'Independency' instead, one should be readily available and the other was recently repressed. The unreleased songs on 'Game Over' are not worth the price and you can probably find a better deal if you search out the singles from 'Hex' on your own. This release is a money grab by their despicable record company, don't be fooled.
	Polar Living Incinerator Christel Deesk, cdc002 by Keith McLachlan. " ...one of those charming, sweet, jangly records that most listeners will be hard pressed to deny its merits."	I bought this record because in the description I read with amazement "includes Russel and Lincoln from Moose", so as Russell Yates is one of my favorite singers I rushed to get this record, but d'oh! It turns out it is Russell and Lincoln Fong, no Yates to be found, but hey although it surely would have been a better record with Russell Yates on vocals this is one of those charming, sweet, jangly records that most listeners will be hard pressed to deny its merits.    All of the songs were written by Lincoln Fong (and all this time i thought he was just a passenger on the Moose express) and Lincoln's style is not all that different from KJ McKillop so the spectre of Moose permeates a lot of this record but the pace is a little more deliberate and the atmosphere sometimes reminds me a bit of prime Sarah Records material. Lots of strings and few sweet accents with delicate female vocals to combine with the nice vocals provided by some guy named Hamish Mackintosh???? No idea where he came from but I hope he sticks around as he is somewhere along the spectrum between Morrissey and Stuart Murdoch, generic but in a good way.    If you are a fan of classic sounding pop in the same neighborhood of say Cardinal, Moose or the Orchids, well then I probably can't find any reasons for you not to like this record.
	Magoo The Soateramic Sounds of Magoo Chemikal Underground, chem012cd by Keith McLachlan. "The album moves by rather quickly through all the tracks and your left with a feeling of contentment, no heavy posturing or grand thematic gestures."	The boys in Magoo are obviously big fans of the Flaming Lips, except Magoo is Scottish so they perhaps lend a bit more English pretense and artiness to the Lips formula, as well as offering a completely separate pop mode not found on the standard model Lips-mobile. This record has 23 songs, diversity isn't its main focus but the songs do meander over a semi-wide chasm from determinedly spacey space rawk, to arty wank, to Flaming Lips like pop, and back around to more subtle and earthly pop tones.    Magoo are on the wonderful Chemikal Underground label and are very worthy of that honour, even if they don't bear much resemblance to the other acts on the roster. They are light years ahead of Bis (it is a rule I need to dis Bis or Stephin Merrit in all of my reviews) and rank up there with the mighty Mogwai. Songs like 'The Advantage of Noise' are probably outside of a lot of people's spectrum of appreciation but it really is a groovy number. The album moves by rather quickly through all the tracks and your left with a feeling of contentment, no heavy posturing or grand thematic gestures. Just guys messing around with some crazy noise and composing a pretty decent record.
	Fruit Hark at Her One Little Indian, tplp75cd by Keith McLachlan. "mostly the record only hints at past glories"	What made Kitchens of Distinction stand apart from all of the other wah-wah pedal slinging core of early 90s English pop groups was two things, one they had an unending string of beautiful collages of sparkling noise and simple beats, and second Patrick Fitzgerald proved to be a lyricist of no equal during his prime. Well the Kitchens are dead and from their ashes arises Fruit, the new solo project (although it prominently features the other two kitchens as well) from Patrick the lead singer and bass player.    And well, this record is a disappointment, gone is the shimmering wall of noise created so effortlessly by Julian Swales and in is a ragged attempt at updating his musical resume. Patrick has installed decidedly non-funky beats into the mix, some electronics, tape effects and an easy atmosphere, and well I would say this ranks far below all of his previous efforts as a member of Kitchens of Distinction.    The record opens with the first single 'What is Fruit?' and it is just plain awful, the song sounds like something Bono might consider hip. The album moves through similar sounding songs, sure there are a few highlights the delightfully pop 'Sally's Car' and the highly percussive and intriguing 'Leather Jacket', but mostly the record only hints at past glories. Patrick's voice is less impassioned than usual and being relegated to a supporting role only, Julian's guitar contributions are not as effective.    There probably will not be a domestic release, and well I can't say I would recommend you buy this record on import. As funky as a flat tire.
	Bailter Space Capsul Turnbuckle, tb005 by Keith McLachlan. "Sure this is hardly generic enough to get played on MTV but it just seems so pedestrian in comparison with past efforts. "	This used to be one of the mightiest bands on the planet, and now? Well, they aren't. This is a better record than the last one, but it still lacks the power of the first four records, when Parker, Halvorsen and Mclachlan (no relation) took the world hostage, terrorizing eardrums all over the globe. From the sound of this record I think they remember the heady days but they have their sites set on a less rocky terrain, that of commercial viability. Sure this is hardly generic enough to get played on MTV but it just seems so pedestrian in comparison with past efforts.    The allure of Bailter Space was their dichotomous nature, the lush arrangements of songs like 'X' and 'No More Reason' mixed with the darker, more sinister edge of tunes like 'Get Lost' and 'Projects.' Here on 'Capsul' the emotions seem more mutable and less defined, the darker songs are less harsh and the aesthetic palette is pretty much extinguished. The record has a metallic texture, not heavy metal, but an urban industrial scope that just doesn't do much for me. They are still incredible live and a few of these songs are very nearly great, especially the new longer version of 'Argonaut' but mostly this is a miss.