Page 6
Daily Nebraskan
Monday, December 1, 1986
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'Til Tuesday, "Welcome
Home." (CBSEpic)
Boston's 'Til Tuesday never fails to
amaze me. Why has such a mediocre
band received such national attention?
They burst onto the pop scene last year
with their hit single "Voices Carry," a
whiny love ballad that featured the
occasionally melodic vocals of lead
singer Aimee Mann. Soon they were all
over MTV and the music press. The
reason? Aimee Mann's spiky blond
platinum hairdo. People magazine did
a feature story on the band and asked
Mann such musically important ques
tions as how she deals with ridicule
about her infamous plume of hair.
MTV aired a live segment of the band
in concert, which showed shots of
Mann feebly trying to carry a tune. Most
of the time she couldn't even hit a note,
but her hair sure looked interesting.
That's the problem with the band.
They are less music than hype. At least
that seemed to be the consensus among
music critics last year.
"Welcome Home," their second effort,
is more relaxed and shows that Mann
has honed the tonal qualities in her
vocals. "What About Love," the first
single and side one's opener, is a dis
mal dirge, illuminated by Mann's sepul
chral harmonies and suicidal lyrics,
like "I'm gettin' pretty tired of livin' on
hope.
"Guitarist Robert Holmes' eerie riffs
add some satisfying fire to Mann's
somewhat annoying droning, giving the
tune the Top-40 sensibility it is suc
ceeding with.
But then they segue into a row of
ironic, biting ballads with shades of
folk rock and Mann's poetic parables
about pain and discontent. "Coming
I'p Close," is an eloquent tale about
the loss of innocence and the discovery
of life in modern New England. And
Mann manages to spread her dusky,
Brian MaryDaily Nebraskan f i""1
dolorous voice throughout the tune
with a sense of poignancy and engaging
melodrama.
Mann's dark musical vision is ade
quately captured by her lyrics and the
band's drum and synthesizer patterns
back them up with spirit and whimsi
cal insistence.
"Welcome Home" is proof that there
is more to 'Til Tuesday than Aimee
Mann's tresses. With a little tightening
of their perspective and some neces
sary experimentation, they just might
be taken seriously by their musical
peers and critics.
Scott Harrah
Grace Jones, "Inside Story."
(Manhattan Records)
I hate to use corny word plays, but
there's no other way to describe how I
feel about Jones' latest effort, so I'm
going to do it anyway. Jones, that
exotic Jamaican disco diva and high
fashion model, has somehow fallen
from Grace. With her flat-top haircut,
shiny purplish skin and sadistic, sen
sual vocals, Grace Jones catapulted
herself out of the New York under
ground scene to become a hip, hyped
pop culture legend with songs like
"Pull Up to the Bumper" and "My
Jamaican Guy." She's always been more
of a model than a musician, but her
smoky, alluring presence and her wit
have always seemed to conceal the
flaws in her music. She was an andro
gyny before it was trendy to blend
genders. With her outrageous looks and
flamboyant attitude, she seduced the
artsy netherworld with a growly, erotic
voice that intoned lyrics like "feeling
like a woman, looking like a man" on
one of her best efforts, "Nightclubbing."
You couldn't help being fascinated
by her. She was Marlene Dietrich, Bob
Marley and Nina Simone rolled into
one, vamping and camping her way to
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Courtesy of Epic Records
'Til Tuesday
stardom with remakes of old Parisian
love songs and reggae numbers.
But "Inside Story," disgustingly com
mercial soul producer Nile Rodgers
turns her into a schlocky, mindless
disco wimp who ineptly moans her way
through a litany of technopop drivel
with titles like "Chan Hitchikes to
Shanghai" and "I'm Not Perfect, (But
I'm Perfect For You.)" Grace's brac
ingly offbeat acumen is somehow lost
in all the overproduced electronic
rhythms, making her sound like the
bland belters from Rodgers' former
band, Chic.
"Inside Story" reveals nothing about
Grace as an artist or a personality. In
fact, its most reprehensible aspect is
its lack of personality, and that's
something Grace usually has a large,
flowing supply of.
Scott Harrah
Georgia Satellites, self-titled
(Elektra Asylum)
The Satellites are another one of
those bands, like Minneapolis' Re
placements, that grew up on the re
cycled grunge-tone John Lee Hooker
riffs of the Stones' "Exile on Main
Street," and can't seem to purge the
white noise from their systems. This
Georgian quartet led by the Dan Baird
Rick Richards (vocals, guitar) battle of
the rock V roll influences, blasts
through bass-heavy riffs like they were
the first to lay pick to metal.
Considering that "Exile" was released
15 years ago, you could call this stuff
roots rock. The Satellites indulge in
sustained adolescence, revel in rock
history and kick butt the way a bar
band with a recording contract stuffed
down their pants often do. Despite the
fact that the Satellites are hopelessly
enamored with rock's most hallowed
cliches, they attack the cliches with
such an unerring ear for classicism
that they don't come off like atavistic
fools. "Keep Your Hands to Yourself," the
LP's signal flare, is a self-conscious
rock classic. The Satellites assemble
classics wit h the ease of a child assem
bling Bauhaus structures from Lego
blocks. If you want lyrics with more
than "girls, girls, girls" verse after
verse and with more than macho glee
as inspiration, you're in the wrong
record jacket.
The album highlight is a cover of the
Faces' anthem, "Every' Picture Tells a
Story," a rock icon to which they add a
relentless riff that just hammers its
way through the original's dynamic
starts and stops.
The Georgia Satellites will perform
with Jason and the Scorchers Tuesday
night at the Drumstick.
Charles Lieurance
Review record courtesy of
Pickles Records and Tapes.
Culturecide, "Tacky Souvenirs
of Pre-Revolutionary America."
About a year ago I received a tape of
new Texas bands from a friend of mine.
The tape's highlight was a demo-cut by
a band my friend referred to as "the
most political band in Houston." The
band was Culturecide and the song was
called "Star Spangled Banner Disco."
As if knowing where I left off, Cul
turecide's album kicks off with the
spoken monologue from "S.S. Banner
Disco," condemning fascist America
while the canned TV sign-off music
crescendos bombastically in the back
ground. Following this, Culturecide create
the '80s anarchist equivalent of Dickie
Goodman's 70s hits like "Mr. Jaws."
Culturecide basically sings over radio
hits. The first cut is a political trashing
of Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the
Dark" with added industrial noise
caused by attacking a radio with a
meat hook or some such post moder
nist avant garde trick.
Culturecide has no use for subtlety.
When they sense their dogmatic defini
tion of fascism in something they just
say it outright. To Culturecide, meta
phor, allegory or parable are sell-outs.
In their world, Bruce Springsteen is a
complacent corporate-owned hit ma
chine and a pawn of the right wing
state.
The remainder of the album is the
same, with more industrial effects added
as they go along. Pat Benatar's "Love is
a Battlefield" is changed to "Love is a
Cattleprod." "Color My World" by Chi
cago becomes "Color My World with
Pigs" sung by Culturecide's mutant
munchkins.
Culturecide's politics are about as
narrow as the new right's politics and
although their replacement lyrics for
hit songs are thought-provoking at
first, in the end there's not much
response to give but laughter. These
are the sort of people who can yell,
"Down with the military industrial
complex!" with a straight face. The
album is a lot of fun but it would only
seriously challenge the politics of a five
year old.
Charles Lieurance
Review record courtesy of
Pickles Records and Tapes.
See REVIEW BOARD on 7
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r .::v? a note in April U ."). Perry
T (Drr.r.tmer) ii iirV.r i "llurv.ry
LUVaWoir by singing straight 'mo
a to in September 1983. And Warner
Hodges (guitarist) continually
snv-ked cigarettes through his nose,
which also made Drumstick history.
Band Preview
The Scorchers have changed quite
a bit over the years, They want their
iriusic to stand on its own now. In
the past, when the Scorchers were
mentioned, more things than music
c;::ne to mind.
Jason and his bund started up in
ir:2 in N.tshvilk, Tarn. It was a
;U:lrg spot, for their music owed
nrch to the '40s ;i!?-l 50s country
. ;ic ix:o. TUv tc .! Ilnr.k VS'
.;' S!.:vsr.::.l "::;:.".! 'eraiaCe
..-, I UV V i ili'vd t l,.f,...i', I iiiJ) j jji ili'tut?:
) 'AViUUrJl;.. J it "country
; They z'. ') 1 - K-d some v ry
i.erjt-f. It l.viics ""corny' This
I , v '? vz ?m I ; t !,e jf ?o'e c.r i
eI-J' ? J to I. sruh. Countless ccv-runk-l;.;.;s
fuI!oy,c-d, Jbolo ties
appsart 3 i J fsshicn'i.'.riinef?, ani
I :th 4incc.sb-fCin;'Op?:ion amor
Aracricrrs have rivjied the ir.no-,
cence zhd originality cf this wove
Kent, There is no feeling behind it
anymore. Feeling js very important
to Jason.
As Jason searches- for under
standing Tuesday -night at the
Drumstick, Johnson, Baggs and
especially Hodges will be there try
ing to set the place on fire. They are
lcr.:.;vn -f,;r being-a bit yreckless.
Jr-:n & the Scorchers like playing
thftBrunistic!:; it rlvcys lias boon a
place where they.fecl at home ploy
ing exactly what they like to play.
If you want to sec an important
pi.it cf an ongoing history, go se
Jason & the Scorchfrs at the Drum
stick 9 p.m.- Tuesday. And if you
' 1 dkt and understand, Jason won't
r:::rJ ifvsu put on your boots and try
Children's theatre
to hold auditions
Theatre Arts For Youth, the Lincoln
Community Playhouse children's thea
tre, will hold auditions for "MR. POP
PER'S PENGUINS" on Dec. 8 and 9.
Auditions will be at the Playhouse,
2500 S. 56th St., for 7-to-!)-year-olds at
4:30-5:30 p.m., for 10-to-15-year-olds at
(i-7:3() p.m. and for 15-vear-olds and
older at 7:43-9 p.m. "MR. POPPER'S
PENGUINS" will be presented Feb. 20
22, 26-28 and March 1. "MR. POPPER'S
PENGUINS produced by Lincoln Benefit
Life Company, is supported in part by
the Nebraska Arts Council and pres
ented by arrangement with Anchorage
Press.
The production is directed by Tracy
Aramagost. Kehearsals begin Jan. 5.
Auditioners are asked to wear comfor
table clothes. There will be improvisa
tion, movement and reading from the
script for auditioners older than 9 years
old. Scripts are available for 24-hour
check-out with a S3 returnable deposit
through Dec. 5. Scripts can be checked
out at the box office, Monday through
Friday, 10 a.m.-4 p.m. For additional
information call the Playhouse at
489-9608.
