Listening Station: Patti Smith, Sonic Youth, Bumblebeez 81

Patti Smith

Trampin'

No one could have made an album like this but Patti Smith. It's nearly impossible to imagine another rock figure with the same sense of idealism, defiance and legacy, with the exception of Bob Dylan, that could pull off such a rallying cry as this. Trampin', her ninth studio album and first with new label Columbia, sees Smith as in touch with the human condition as any of her commanding works of the late '70s. Through unpolished yet fleshed-out compositions that unconsciously reflect all the major rock subgenres--punk, blues, garage, folk--her focused four-piece band provides the enduring poet plenty of emotional impetus from which to address the weary, the apathetic, the shamed and the disenchanted. Almost anyone else trying to accomplish such nowadays would likely sound self-righteous, satirical or derivative. Not Smith. The potential of the human spirit has long been her thematic turf, and here she defends it deeply and compellingly.

The artist has stated that Trampin' is an "American record," and indeed most of the album reflects the American soul, as it has been tested since Sept. 11, 2001. Smith wisely does not make explicit reference to that day, though she does adopt some of the language that has followed it, peppering her prose with talk of "hawks" and "curtailing civil liberties." Only with the sprawling, fiery "Radio Baghdad" does she spell it out, and she does so with the same shamanistic and metaphorical fervor as Jim Morrison. For most of the album, Smith evocatively speaks of the afflictions that come with facing an unpredictable world, and the need to overcome those obstacles with self-empowerment and celebration. "Peaceable Kingdom" is an elegant paean to hope, while "Jubilee" is a revivalist call for festivity. Regardless of tone or context, Smith encourages her unspecified listener to hide nothing, to wake up, to rise up against whatever corrupt power threatens them and, ultimately, to resist complacency. Those are bold, often derided ideas in George W. Bush's America, but they resonate when they come from someone as emboldened as Smith.--Mike Prevatt

Sonic Youth

Sonic Nurse

Wait, wait, wait. Sonic Youth, Sonic Nurse. Don't tell me. It's about sound right? But then again, Sonic Youth has always been about sound--at least when it wasn't recording pretentious homages to pretentious New York composers like Pauline Oliveros and John Cage (forgive me, art-ghetto audiophiles!). Fortunately, those recordings were aberrations in a two-decade career that dressed up indie rock in a black turtleneck and set the stage for art-rock crossovers like Yo La Tengo and Smashing Pumpkins.

Sonic Youth's influence was so pervasive that it's kind of surprising the band has managed to remain relevant for so long. One would think that Thurston Moore would have dropped into a heroin-fueled tailspin by now, or Kim Gordon would have succumbed to a deadly (but well-publicized) bout with an eating disorder. But Sonic Youth continues to crank out a thoughtful cacophony that's good for the brain and the soul.

Still, people who dug on Daydream Nation and Sister might not immediately recognize the Sonic Youth on Sonic Nurse, which is less a collage of noise than a balanced serving of lo-fi rock. Not that Sonic Youth has entirely given in to the melodic imperative, but Sonic Nurse recalls many of the band's successful forays into indie pop (like 1988's "Kissability" and 1992's "Wish Fulfillment"). Think of Dinosaur Jr. after a semester of post-graduate studies at NYU, or Neil Young backed by a combination of the Minutemen and Franz Ferdinand. Then add Gordon--a kind of bizarro Debbie Harry--into the mix, and you've got all the makings of the avant-garde guitar jam supreme. For proof, check out the shrieking resolution of "Pattern Recognition" and the blissful climax of "Stones." Then dust off that beret and remember what it felt like to be cooler than cool.--Newt Briggs

Bumblebeez 81

The Printz

A while back, Bumblebeez 81 was being hailed as the Australian answer to the Neptunes, but after hearing the band's U.S. debut, The Printz, this comparison seems about as valid as equating the acting talents of Crocodile Dundee and Marlon Brando. First and foremost, it's hard to believe that the Neptunes would ever release an album as sloppy as The Printz, which is a cut-and-paste hodgepodge of hip hop and garage rock that swamps every cool beat in a deluge of random noise.

Part of the problem stems from the fact that the album was created by sandwiching together two EPs: the Australian White Printz and the British Red Printz. Both were messy efforts in the first place, and the forced fusion of the pair does limited justice to the few songs that rise above the lo-fi fray. Most notable of these are "Pony Ride" and "Let's Go," both of which make the best out of the band's four-track-in-the-family-basement minimalism. From there, highlights are few and far between, but lowlights--such as the limp-wristed Fannypack ripoffs "Microphone Diseases" and "Rappa"--come fast and furious. "Brooklyn" sounds like the Beastie Boys channeling Beck on Jack White's reel-to-reel (not a good sound, I assure you), and "Vila Attack" comes off like a copy of a copy of a copy of DJ Shadow's worst mix tape.

Perhaps if Bumblebeez 81 had delayed an American release and used the extra time to work on production, The Printz might have accurately lived up to the intriguingly quirky sonic vision on the funky album closer "Come Ova." As it is, though, The Printz is just another Australian import that would have been better left Down Under.--Newt Briggs