Thursday, February 27, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Listening Station

Massive Attack

100th Window

Bristol, England's Massive Attack--pioneer of the largely downtempo electronic subgenre known as trip-hop, a blend of breakbeat, dub, soul, hip hop and ambient elements into an often murky, yet entrancing sound--is considered one of dance music's greatest artists. But upon listening to the band's fourth album, 100th Window, you'd be hardpressed to start moving about. In fact, the album is lulling to the point of sedation.

One might infer that to mean it's boring. Massive Attack is anything but boring. Yet part of what made its 1991 debut, Blue Lines, such a revelation was that it was as hypnotic as it was invigorating, while also encompassing some of the freshest and precise craftsmanship pop music had seen at that point. On 100th Window, the band--reduced from a trio to just founding member Robert "3-D" Del Naja--is intent on affirming its signature sound, but its grand, layered scope diminishes the nuances that punctuated earlier material. Del Naja's sweeping scope is impressive, but it lacks a certain amount of character and engagement. It bears resemblance to some of the subtler moments of Bjork's Homogenic, minus the enchantment.

There are bright spots on this otherwise dark and dank journey. "Everywhen" could be one of the most soothing grooves of the band's 16-year career, while the predawn prowl of "Antistar" lurks with a pointed clarity. And, giving life to yet another electronic/dance effort, Sinead O'Connor lends her evocative croons to three otherwise unremarkable compositions: the politically charged "A Prayer for England," first single "Special Cases" and the absorbing "What Your Soul Sings," the latter being the closest to the sublime beauty of 1998's indelible "Teardrop."--Mike Prevatt

Lyle Lovett

Smile

Lyle Lovett deserves respect. His string of critically acclaimed albums in the late 1980s and 1990s won him four Grammys and a devoted fan base that crosses many musical boundaries. The Texas-born singer-songwriter's anti-Nashville country and literate lyrics are mixed with blues, folk, swing, gospel and jazz to form a distinctive sound. In addition, Lovett is a decent actor. He's performed small but memorable roles in the Robert Altman films The Player and Short Cuts, as well as The Opposite of Sex and Cookie's Fortune. Finally, Lovett, despite being undeniably weird-looking, was married to Julia Roberts for a few years, and nobody can take that away from him.

On the other hand, nobody's perfect. Lovett's new album, Smile, a compilation of songs he performed for movie soundtracks from 1992 to 2002, is slight. None of the songs is original. He does several old pop standards such as "Mack the Knife" and Irving Berlin's "Blue Skies" that have been done many times before and often better. Oh, it's a pleasant enough collection. And when Lovett gets an uptempo number, he's more in his element, such as on Ray Charles' "What'd I Say" and the gospel rave-up "I'm a Soldier in the Army of the Lord."

Here's my advice: Lovett has a new studio album due out in September. Skip Smile and wait for the new slate of original tunes.--Geoff Schumacher

Since By Man

We Sing the Body Electric

Someday I'm gonna write a famous essay called "In Defense of the Grindcore Growl." You know what I'm talking about: that nerve-shaving screech/scream/howl thing that so many post-metal "singers" do. I'm not sure why I love it so much, but I suspect it has to do with it somehow underlining--in blood and bile--the impolite, primitive proposition that rock music is. Bleeaaarrghh! Oh yeah!

The absence of that tell-tale growl might explain why there's something just not quite there with Since By Man. Leadman Sam Macon sings over some admirably thick, dense stuff. On top of that, the textured hardcore of the band's Revelation debut somehow inspires the Jaded Rock Critic to pound platitudes out of the keyboard like dust from a rug: hard-hitting, wrenching, intense and--yeah, that dreaded critical byword--infectious. Part of the problem is the band's technically accomplished storm-core recalls--a bit too much for Since By Man's own good--its much better influences such as Converge or Botch. What we're left with is an album that's long on talent and earnestness, but short on inspiration and originality.

Which isn't to say the album is only worthy of the CD trade-in stack. Casual listeners of "extreme music"--fans of, say, tamer post-hardcore acts such as Atreyu or Poison the Well--will find much to like in Body Electric, whether it's the chunking groove of "The Enemy," the epic sprawler, "A Kid Who Tells on Another Kid Is a Dead Kid," and "Death of Decadence," which turns and leers like a madman's carousel. In fact, they're all contenders--problem is, none of them are winners.--Andrew Kiraly