July 23, 1995 No. 175 Roch On Music By Roch Parisien NEIL YOUNG Mirror Ball *** (Reprise/Warner) So far, much of the coverage surrounding Neil Young's _Mirror Ball_ has focused on the pomp and circumstance of this historic meeting between grunge mentor and gifted prodigy rather than the music at hand. The Seattle summit session paring Young with hometown chart-toppers Pearl Jam neither captures the snaking, wired intensity one expects from Young's best work with Crazy Horse, or that epic, sweeping, draining vision characteristic of top-flite PJ. Rather, we are too often left to wade through the lesser of both worlds congealing somewhere in the muddy middle. _Mirror Ball_ remains a "good" disc overall, occasionally cracking "very good" on the greatness meter, but simply underwhelms relative to last year's _Sleeps With Angels_ masterpiece and the hype surrounding the event's external trappings. There's little real sense of the two factions feeding off each other to achieve something unique. The vibe is cautious; the upstarts clearly in awe of the situation, substituting a generic, protective wall-a-noise for the initiative and inventiveness that might have driven Young to new heights. Young's lyrics, which often read as facile on paper but leap into 3-D when sung, here too often remain firmly fixed to the page. The self-deprecating title - a glittering symbol of 70s excess - may poke fun at the occasion's import, but that spirit is certainly not reflected in the rather staid, humorless contents. The disc leads with "Song X", a lumbering beast owing too much to Roger McGuinn's "Jolly Roger" (_Cardiff Rose_). Single "Downtown" is a plodding riff rocker with the dubious dual distinction of sounding like a cast-off from REM's _Monster_ and pilfering Ted Nugent's "Cat Scratch Fever" for its bridge. The song's lyrics take an easy shot at nouveau-hippyism. In contrast, "I'm The Ocean" and "Peace and Love" make the most dramatic impact, delivering strong melody lines and the closest thing this claustrophobic recording offers to expansiveness of sound and vision. Ironically, it is dramatic, underlying keyboard strokes that drive these tracks, weaving seductively among the ruins of string-bending mayhem. Pearl Jam's Eddie Vedder contributes a pair of counterpoint vocal couplets to the latter and a sharpened lyric focus: "Found love, found hate, saw my mistake/Broke walls of pain to walk again/I saw the dream, I saw the wake/We shared it all but not the take." The guitar work proves most vibrant and seductive on "Big Green Country", offering some welcome soloing relief from the more monotone wreckage found elsewhere. Keyboards also come to the rescue of angry, extended jam "Scenery", producer Brendan O'Brien serving up cutting, Mike Garson-like jazz tinkling. A colleague recently observed that it may be time for Young to tackle another one his off-the-wall projects that tend to upset all but the most dedicated Neil-o-philes - you know, go wild and flush all the gunk from the spark plugs before getting down to business again. _Neil Young - Polka Party Favorites_ anyone? FOO FIGHTERS Foo Fighters ***1\2 (Roswell/EMI) If Neil Young's _Mirror Ball_ delivers less than its trappings promise, _Foo Fighters_ surpasses the grungiest of expectations. Former Nirvana drummer David Grohl steps effortlessly into the contagious spotlight as lead vocalist, guitarist and songwriter of a new combo (although he handled all instruments for this debut recording, with assistance from Afghan Whig's Greg Dulli on the chunky "X-Static"). Given the circumstances of Nirvana's demise, the sleeve art offers unsettling dimensions of imagery - a futuristic pistol displayed in antique, sepia tones; Grohl's past and future juxtaposed in the present. Yet the most astounding image is found inside the sleeve: a photo of Grohl & company smiling, laughing, bared teeth sharing a great time. It'll be enough to send all the little doleful, pale-skinned, Cobain-mourners scurrying for cover like vampires from sunlight. Grohl's serviceable vocals and frantic performances have that same devil-may-care freshness to them, the snappy irreverence of first takes not belabored. Only "Weenie Beenie" hints at the ripping angst of Grohl's immediate past, vocals phased to a formless, discordant screech...three minutes of anguish that communicates naught but it's own unfocused pain. The rest is crisp, driving alterna-rock, leaning more to the accessible side of Husker Du/Sugar than typical Seattle-by-numbers in the garage-fuzz of "Alone+Easy Street" or earnest "This Is A Call. "Big Me" even chills down to head-bobbing, melodic pop. On the other hand, the deliberate static infecting "Exhausted" is just that - exhausting to listen to. RAINBOW BUTT MONKEYS Letters From Chutney *1\2 (Mercury/PolyGram) It's hard to imagine, at this late juncture where all the original proponents have themselves moved on to other things, that record companies are still chasing down more variations on that cookie-cutter grunge theme, perhaps figuring on riding out the Cobain suicide shockwaves for a few more years/dollars. On most tracks from debut album _Letters From Chutney_, Burlington, Ontario's Rainbow Butt Monkeys have the signature Seattle sound down cold. They "do" it very competently. Yawn. As the cliche goes: been there, done that, bought the movie rights. On the few songs that break from this mold, the group lurches towards the rockin' funk of labelmates Bootsauce. The even fewer numbers demonstrating any actual instrumental creativity - "Let's Pretend" is a tempo-defying workout that warps between hot funk licks and wired psychedelia - go on to ruin everything with lyrics like "Baby, don't you know I love you/Baby, don't you know I'll always be true". Phew, that took some real effort. Who ever thought that Iron Butterfly's inane "In-A-Gada-Da-Vida" would ever inspire anyone for its *lyrics*? It took 27 years, but here it is. Oh, one last thing: Rainbow Butt Monkeys is an incredibly stupid name for a band. There, I've said it and I feel much better now. ***** - a "desert island" disc; may change your life. **** - excellent; a long-term keeper. *** - a good disc, worth repeated listening. ** - fair, but there are better things to spend money on. * - a waste of valuable natural resources. Copyright 1995 Rocon Communications