Sound bites

Published: Monday, February 1, 1999

Monday, February 1, 1999

Sound bites

MUSIC:

Various Artists, "Songs for the Brokenhearted" (Glue Factory)

So the cheating rat-bastard dumped you, or the girl of your dreams decided to dream elsewhere. Or even worse - you were both too frightened by your emotions to ever make a move.

In any case, you're bitter, sad and disillusioned with the notion of love. It's all just a tired sham anyway, as anyone can tell you. How do you deal? Pop in Glue Factory's compilation, "Songs for the Brokenhearted." After all, what's the use of being miserable on your own when you can commiserate with the talents of various, unheard-of bands, too small to be made up of anyone but rinky-dink, angst-filled losers used to suffering?

Though much of the work fails in a sea of nasal droning, a few highlights make it difficult to do anything but play the album once more and get whiny all over again. The first (and best) song, Oneline Drawing's "Pollyanna," has a tender, sweet melody that reminds pathetic listeners why it sucks when those heartless lovers wreck you. If you don't feel low enough already before you throw the disc on, this one will guarantee you tumble into your own pit of self-induced sorrow. "Show off my bruises and smile/ I am my own TV show," weeps Jonah Sonz Matranga, the lead singer, in a cracking, soft voice like his soul has just been whipped in a Snoopy snow-cone machine.

This tragic display of emotion leads into Metroshifter's "Theme from Songs for the Brokenhearted," a slightly more upbeat, yet still disgruntling, tune. It leaves listeners moaning, "You're just a girl to me," as though that could be true, as though it's not just something the lead singer's telling himself like a cheap mantra picked up at the five and dime from a self-help book for hopeless loners.

After a while, the whole album spins into a mess of indistinguishable tunes that just rip away on staticy chords and strident, forgettable vocals. The complete work, though not worth full price, would no doubt be one to check out the bargain bins for.

Vanessa VanderZanden

Rating : 5

Nevada Bachelors, "Carrots and so on" (Pop Llama)

Wake up and smell the TV dinner. Yum yum. Though it ain't no Ralph's Freshfare deli stroll, it does satiate that hunger for something meaty. It fills you up just enough so that, well, you could see devouring it again, when the craving for low-grade nourishment kicks in and you burn out on high-brow snacks.

The rhythms roll around spunkily enough, but they don't go anywhere. It's like being told how to operate an electric hoe without being able to go out in the backyard and rev it up for yourself.

Basically, the more you listen to the lead singer's Barry-Manilow-a-la-twist-of-Robert-Plant-cocktail voice, squealing raucously about "Spanish experiments" and "living like leopards," the more you want to shove a bratwurst down his vocal chords. The songs, however, could never be called unenthusiastic, and there is something to be said for a band which boasts back-up yappings from two out of the three remaining members.

Still, each track moves like a series of tight waves, up and down, up and down. Like you're riding a loud, energy-sapping, repetitive crest that won't break and won't gather momentum. It just keeps sending you sideways until you finally jump off toward shore out of brute frustration.

At the very least you get to coast. But most of us want something a little bit more jarring than an unmemorable dance with salt water.

Vanessa VanderZanden

Rating : 4

Various Artists, "Down in the Delta (Original Soundtrack)" Virgin

Far too frequently, soundtracks have become bloated marketing vehicles for labels to foist off second-rate material by top-name artists in an attempt to make a fast buck. Occasionally, you can find a few gems here and there, but by and large the chaff far outweighs the wheat.

"Down in the Delta" is kind of a mixed bag. The album offers 16 tracks of light R&B, so if playing it low-key's your bag of tricks, you should be amply satisfied. There's a bit of gospel, a touch of soul and a whole lot of Babyface-esque crooning that has been the staple of high school proms for years. Listen to the Leverts chime in on "Where Would I Be" and you'll find yourself sent back to the days of rented tuxedos and midnight embraces. Then again, if you have bad prom memories, you'll want to turn and run the other way, because there's a whole lot like it on the album.

Although the music can be slightly repetitive at times, there's at least a score of talented singers who are making it. Luther Vandross, Bob James and the sultry jazz chanteuse Cassandra Wilson join forces for "I'm Only Human" and pull it off pretty well. Wilson is under-utilized, but James and Vandross croon nicely.

Jazzyfatnastees and the Roots offer something a bit different with "Let It Go," an unsettling bit of more substantial pop with an ominous Rhodes line underscoring simmering vocals.

Of course, there's got to be a token really good song, and that comes in the form of "My Soul Don't Dream," an unusual pairing of Me'Shell N'Degeocello and Keb' Mo'. With N'Degeocello's throbbing bassline and Mo's steel guitar screaming the blues, "My Soul Don't Dream" growls out emotion in a way the rest of the album can only hope for. Unfortunately, the feeling doesn't last long.

Brent Hopkins

Rating: 4

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