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Audiophile
Fig Dish is all about guitars, rickety relationships, winsome two-part harmonies--and more guitars. Formed a couple of years ago from the remains of a alternative-rock unit and a death-metal group, the quartet quickly caught the ear of the industry suits. That's What Love Songs Often Do, Fig Dish's major-label debut, offers 13 neatly manicured punk-pop ditties with quixotic titles like "Lemonader" and "Wrong Nothing." Although Fig Dish doesn't go much beyond reinventing the indie wheel, most of the material is listenable. There's the furious rush of the opening tune, "Bury Me," which alternates between an accelerated waltz and something approximating meditation. "Weak and Mean" and "Seeds" both sport a vaguely sinister feel thanks to frontman Rick Ness' snarled delivery and buzzing guitar riffs. On the neck-snapping choruses to "Chew Toy," Fig Dish displays its heavy-metal roots, although these are mediated by a strummy bridge.
Menswe@r
To call Menswe@r (the British flavor of the month) derivative is like calling Michael Jackson merely "eccentric." One track on Nuisance sounds like the Monkees, another like Green Day and still another like Rick Ocasek faking a thick English accent on a Cars number. Throw in a few Jam rips and a song that would be more appropriate on an album by the Mamas and the Papas, and you start to get the picture. It all sounds vaguely familiar and utterly forgettable. Menswe@r does deserve credit on "Little Miss Pinpoint Eyes" for rhyming "particles" with "farcical" and "teeth" with "Hampstead Heath," but that's about it. This is not England's finest hour.
Skankin' Pickle
The San Jose band might have trouble naming its CDs, but what the group lacks in marketing, it more than exceeds in energetic live performances. This 15-piece collection, recorded at Petaluma's Phoenix Theater and at Berkeley's 924 Gilman, attempts to capture that Dance Craze spirit. The recording sounds good; old tracks like "I Missed the Bus" and "Fakin' Jamaican" come to sweaty life. Lars Nylander screams his lungs out on "Hussein Skank" and "Asian Man," and Lynette Knackstedt's guitar skills are overwhelming. On the brass front, there are more shredded notes than in Oliver North's office, but you try to dance, sing and blow on a trombone simultaneously--good luck. Skankin' Pickle Live works as a sturdy replacement for bootleg tapes. And to show what good souls they are, Skankin' Pickle includes five unlisted tracks from fellow ska compatriots the Tantra Monsters and the Rudiments. Nice, supportive touch.
Tha Dogg Pound
Ever notice that as Death Row's roster gains popularity, the albums are getting progressively worse? Every release since Dr. Dre's The Chronic has been lame. Now, the top album in America and the most controversial rap release since N.W.A.'s Efil4zaggin is out, and guess what, this is the worse one yet. To paraphrase Dr. Dre, I know you're bobbing your head, 'cause you're sleepin'. Daz and Kurupt's lyrics are redundant and predictably tragic and paranoid. Dogg Food mines every P-Funk production trick implemented in the '90s. The content never wavers beyond mackin', emceein' and bangin'. C. Dolores Tucker will have a coronary after listening to "If We All Fuc" and "Some Bomb Azz Pussy." Dogg Pound's gaseous stance throws yet another CD onto Death Row's already wobbly pile.
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Fig Dish
That's What Love Songs Often Do
PolyGram
Nicky Baxter
Nuisance
London
Gordon Young
Skankin' Pickle Live
Dill
Todd S. Inoue
Dogg Food
Death Row
TSI
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