Thursday, April 17, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Listening Station

Leftover Salmon/Cracker

O Cracker, Where Art Thou?

Surely you've found yourself asking this question: What if the greatest hits of the '90s alt.rock band Cracker were performed by a bluegrass-tinged jam band? No? You mean you haven't wondered how David Lowery's oh-so-clever lyrics would sound backed by a banjo-wielding hippie ensemble?

Well, despite your apparent lack of curiosity about the potentialities of such a lightning-in-a-bottle combination, it's been done. Cracker's David Lowery (also of Camper Van Beethoven fame) and Johnny Hickman sing and Boulder, Colo.'s Leftover Salmon provides the downhome musical accompaniment on trademark tracks such as "Get Off This," "Low" and "Teen Angst (What the World Needs Now)."

And the verdict? Does this intertwining of radio-friendly rock and twangy "slamgrass" serve a useful purpose? The answer, perhaps not so surprisingly, is yes. For, when you think about it, these bands have some common ground. Cracker, after all, has always staked out the rootsy end of the alternative spectrum, while Leftover Salmon is ready and willing to dive into any and all musical genres.

O Cracker, Where Art Thou? is, essentially, Cracker performed at a barn dance, which doesn't necessarily have a negative connotation (although square dancing must be discouraged). This is Cracker as comfort food, rather than pop ambition, and the result is to give these very good songs a heartfelt, comfortable feel that's often lost in the overproduction of radio hits. "Low" maintains its powerful vibe even with a banjo providing the foundation. "Teen Angst" is highlighted by a nifty jazz piano solo, while "How Can I Live Without You" benefits from a laidback Southern rock groove.

The best part is the songs don't go on and on and on (the longest track is 6:26) like so much jam band music. For the most part, they get in and get out, and for that we are thankful.--Geoff Schumacher

The Faint

Danse Macabre Remixes

Remix albums are not meant to equal the quality of the originals that inspired them. In fact, one might argue they're not even supposed to be released--an unwritten rule widely known but rarely heeded in these anything-for-a-buck times.

Omaha synth-rock act The Faint--y'know, the hyper New Wave band that opened for No Doubt at the Joint last year--opted to break the rule as well with Danse Macabre Remixes, and they not only deserve a pardon, but a hearty pat on the back. This hypnotic collection of electro bustle is every bit as exuberant, twisted and sexually charged as the original 2001 album, Danse Macabre.

Employing the expertise of producers like Jacques Lu Cont (snagging an old Bowie nickname with the moniker The Thin White Duke), Photek, Junior Sanchez and Paul Oakenfold, The Faint seek to align themselves closer with the techno crowd, further drawing back from their indie rock roots. While guitars and pop melodies float in and out of the band's almost sadomasochistic atmosphere, the focus here is on elements usually associated with nightclub-oriented music: the beats, the funk, the blips, the computerized reconstruction.

The album starts off monotonously with Lu Cont's repetitive "The Conductor," but things go ballistic in the talented hands of laptop maestros like Tommie Sunshine, who out-retros the band in "Let the Poison Spill From Your Throat," and Mojolators (aka Justin Nichols), bringing the digital spank of Felix da Housecat to "Posed to Death." The gem here is Sanchez' steroidal yet spunky "Violent," which on its own validates this assured and rapturous collection.--Mike Prevatt

Moe

Wormwood

Finally, Moe found the perfect blend of patchouli, burbling twirl-jam and bong water. Wormwood is full-bodied and exquisitely aged with a smoky texture as viscous as the band's live show--exactly the flavor so sorely amiss on earlier studio efforts.

Produced as one continuous piece, the album takes its basic tracks from Moe's Jammy-award winning 2002 summer tour, and weaves in studio grooves and other strangeness. The result: a heady bouquet and some solid work. "Okayalright" rocks out Skynyrd-style. "Gone" and "Crab Eyes" are sublimated and soulful, perhaps two of the best melon-bobbers on the disc. Spacey groove "Bullet" gets the crowd's approval as cheers bleed in, proof of the tune's spontaneity. The rolling tide of synth-skullfuckery on "Kidstoys" seems an appropriate segue into the spooky samba of "Shoot First" ("I am sweetness and light/ I've got a love supreme/ but I've got friends in very low places"). And after all this, "Edison Laugh Record" is inevitable--a grainy wax cylinder of speed-altered laughter (take it as you will) to end the record.

Excuse some of the simple hippie-pop choruses ("Yeah yeah yeah, not coming down") and easily anticipated hippie-pop gestures. Excuse them if for no other reason than they snuggle in so well with the band's precisely controlled instrumentals. Like any good jam buzz, it may not always be comfortable. But without fail, Wormwood makes it known that Moe's in control.--Chad Lietz