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Phantom Planet “The Guest” Sony Music
Entertainment Inc.
Los Angeles pop rock rocks. To imagine Phantom Planet, think of
a five-piece bar-chord based, guitar-driven band. To get an image
of their new album, “The Guest,” think of oodles and
oodles of chocolatey musical goodness. “The Guest” is
not a lyrically revolutionary, musically groundbreaking, remarkably
innovative album. In fact, it is quite the contrary. In this
three-guitarist, one-bassist, one- drummer band, there is no
divergence from the norm of pop rock. But the lack of
self-contemplative lyrics does not detract from the incredibly
catchy album. It’s like a giant party album that the girls on
those “Girls Gone Wild” videos look like they’d
be listening to. Well, maybe they’d be listening to porn
music first, but this album would surely be second. Even on tracks
that contain more melancholy lyrics, they still retain an upbeat
quality. For example, in “Lonely Day,” lead singer Alex
Greenwald sings “I could tell, from the moment I woke up, it
was gonna be a lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely day.” All is
well and dreary ““ that is, until the bassline and the rest of
the band kicks in. There’s this catchy moving bass that
sounds something like a dancing elephant, if elephants could dance
(but not like those trippy-ass ones in Disney’s
“Dumbo”). If this album were to be listened to by a
bunch of guys whittling wood gathered around some spittoons then
there certainly would be a lot of toe-tapping, hand-clapping,
knee-slapping and probably harmonica-playing as well (in addition
to lots of spitting). “The Guest” is not original, but
it is indeed a lot of fun, and very sing-along-y. This will not go
down as a classic, but it is entertaining. It’s certainly
something to listen to, something to party to, and something to
even watch “Girls Gone Wild” (but not
“Dumbo”) to.
Kenny Chang Â
Joey Ramone “Don’t Worry About Me”
Sanctuary Records
A somber air inevitably builds up while reading the title of
Joey Ramone’s posthumous solo album, “Don’t Worry
About Me.” The cover features the late Ramones frontman, who
lost his battle to lymphatic cancer 10 months ago, oddly lounging
on a sofa. Gone is the trademark spread-eagle rebel stance that
used to dominate the Ramones’ album covers. However, the
Godfather of punk kicks off the record with an energetic cover of
“What A Wonderful World,” declaring that sympathy is
the last thing a punk rocker staring in the face of death needs.
Little has changed between the groundbreaking first four records by
the Ramones and Joey’s latest offering. Obviously, no one
will confuse “Don’t Worry” with past standards,
but how refreshing is it to know that Joey’s hair had
remained its long, black, unruly self. Like his unchanging locks,
the new songs follow the classic Ramones template: catchy melodies,
nonsensical lyrics, and four chords played at breakneck speed.
“What A Wonderful World” serves as a fitting opening
track, but one may be left disappointed knowing that Joey could
have applied more apparent vocal dynamics and punk attitude as
showcased in the fun house-flavored “Mr. Punchy” and
the snarling alleyway rant of “Like A Drug I Never Did
Before.” For those Clash followers who sneer at the
Ramones’ lack of social-consciousness, “Maria
Bartiromo” and “Venting” provide a bleaker
outlook on the world, in contrast to the blissful opener. Unlike
many punk albums that explode in the beginning only to stagger past
the finish line, “Don’t Worry’s” most
satisfying tracks come at the end. By unleashing the best Stooges
cover ever with the raucous boogie “1969,” Joey makes a
convincing case that his version may very well be just as potent as
the original. The infectious “Don’t Worry About
Me” has Joey bidding his final farewell and listeners humming
the tune hours after the song finishes. The lack of quality
material and the too frequent reliance on producer and guitarist
Daniel Rey’s riffs to the rescue unfortunately sink this LP.
Yet as a rare solo project and Joey’s final production,
“Don’t Worry” is definitely worth a listen.
David Chang Â
Lisa Loeb “Cake And Pie” A&M
Records
In the minds of pop rock fans, singer/songwriter Lisa Loeb will
forever be the delicate girl sporting dark-rimmed glasses. Loeb,
intentionally or not, has developed a witty kitty-cat persona that
perfectly suits the lamely introspective approach on her third
album, “Cake And Pie.” The title’s laughable
attempt at clever wordplay on the phrase “cake or pie”
fails miserably much like the entire 12-track record””mdash;each
song remarkably less notable than the next. “Cake And
Pie” carries on Loeb’s short-standing tradition of
harmonious pleas for blissful relationships. Her continuous
counseling regrettably becomes draining. Lyrically, the album is
littered with unbearable uses of “I,”
“you,” “me,” and “we.” Aside
from the forgettable “She’s Falling Apart,” the
repetitive record finds itself devoid of any semblance of a
much-needed third person narrative piece. “Someone You Should
Know,” a crash course on soul-searching, is designated as the
album’s first single, but the song falls far short of past
glories such as “I Do” and “Stay,” the
latter earning Loeb the distinction as the first unsigned artist to
top the American charts. Unlike “Tails and
Firecracker,” the latest offering has Loeb’s vocal
performance taking a backseat to her newfound penchant for stronger
rhythms and additional electric guitar work. However, Loeb’s
winning formula on “Stay” was her elegant yet emotive
voice in front of subtle acoustics. Sometimes, mediocre material
can get by with truly unique and powerful singing, but when
combined with uninspired vocals, the result is appropriately dubbed
“Cake And Pie.”
David Chang Â
Sub.bionic “You I Lov///” Extasy Records
International
Only a band with three slashes in their album title and a period
in the middle of their name would try to make music into a
philosophy. With their new album, Sub.bionic attempts to make music
that is a spiritual journey which they hope will lead to a
“state of clarity.” Unfortunately, their music has a
tendency to wallow more toward a state of complete passiveness and
thoughtlessness. The echoing guitars and the brooding voice of
Jimmy Tuckett make for very mellow, laid back music. As the album
progresses, each song blends into the next, engendering a very
indistinguishable, bland, musical soup. At its best, Sub.bionic
resembles a watered down Radiohead. The easy beat and melody of
“Plum” is reminiscent of “The Bends.” At
its worst, Sub.bionic strays from that mellow sound and attempts
something completely different from the rest of the album. The last
song, “Nuclear Bomb Parade,” puzzles the listener.
Instead of bringing the listener full circle on his or her
so-called spiritual journey, one is left pondering the distorted
ending of the song, as well as the abrupt ending to the album. If
you are an insomniac looking for sub-par, mellow, background music
to sleep to, Sub.bionic may be just the thing to satisfy your
somnolent needs.
Christine Lee