6
Thursday, November 7, 2002
Amos' 'Walk' Across America Tells
Universal Story of Tragedy, Hope
Bv Michael Abernethy
Senior Writer
The problem with the United States’
reaction to Sept 11 is that we don’t want
to look at the big picture.
While the same obvious signs of vac
uous social attitude exist as before the
attacks, pop culture and the media
would have us believe that we are a
changed people - that terrorism and
Bruce Springsteen’s increased relevance
have cleansed us
as a nation and
have made us see
the error of our
ways.
But Tori Amos
knows differently.
z — —^rfa/bunk
/7ei//em
Tori Amos
Scarlet’s Walk
Her new album, Scarlet’s Walk, does
n’t so much examine the terrorist attacks
as it indicts our nation for its historical
wrongs and conceits in light of 9/11.
Porn stars, racism, homophobia, al-
Qaida and repercussions of the Trail of
Tears and the Civil War all hold equal
weight in Amos’ America.
But as is the norm with any of her
works, listeners get heaping spoonfuls of
the songwriter’s own peculiar interpre
tation of events.
Thematically, the album is Amos’
most brilliant to date.
It builds on the challenges and char
acters she met on her national tour after
Sept. 11, following autobiographical
character Scarlet on her journey through
all 50 states.
In each region, Amos offers exam
ples of that area’s culture and characters
with interjections of her own commen-
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But musically, Scarlet’s Walk is the first
album in her career that doesn’t break
any new ground. Throughout, she plays
her strengths - the melodic Kate
BA*h-isms that marked her first two
albums and the lyri-
cal quirks of Bovs for
Pele. %
Although this
makes for a solid ?
album, one can’t
help but miss the
chances she’s taken
on her last few
albums. v ,
The completely |
unexpected dance
beats of “Raspberry i
Swirl” lit up 1998’s j*
masterful From the
,;'*r
Jyfib i
Choirgirl Hotel, and the eerie ambience
of “Suede” was the highlight of To Venus
and Back
But the album does provide several
career highlights for Amos.
Its first single, the floating, fiber
melodic “A Sorta Fairytale,” is the finest
single Amos has provided since
Choirgirh ‘Jackie’s Strength.”
Likewise, the radio-ready “Taxi Ride”
excels with the songwriter’s blatant cyn
icism in lines such as, “This thing you
call love/She smiles way too much.”
But fittingly, Amos’ attempt at grap
pling specifically with Sept. 11 is the
most stirring and poignant moment on
the album.
In “I Can’t See New York,” she deftly
sums up the feelings of loss and lack of
direction our nation felt those few weeks
DIVERSIONS
after the attacks. “From here no lines
are drawn/From here no lands are
owned/13,000 and holding/Swallowed
in the purring of her engines,” Amos
coos in the opening strains.
The only fault of the album is that, at
18 tracks, it’s just
too long. Scarlet’s
Walk is rounded
out brilliandy with
dynamic character
studies such as
“Mrs. Jesus” and
the aching tide
track. But Amos’
focus gets lost
somewhere
between the yawn
inspiring “Don’t
Make Me Come to
Vegas,” the murky
“Sweet Sangria” and the aimless “Your
Cloud.”
But the beauty of Scarlet’s Walk is the
redemption that its central character
and Amos find in the album’s conclu
sion. Like life, tragedy is only half the
story.
In “Gold Dust,” the album’s closer,
Amos reflects on her travels and con
cludes with life-affirming conviction
that the future of America is in our
hands. In Amos’ hands, the statement is
neither cloying nor cliched.
And like those of Little Earthquakes
and Songs From the Choirgirl Hotel,
Scarlet’s songs will undoubtedly deepen
in meaning over time.
For by avoiding jingoistic attempts at
writing anew national anthem in
attempts to make the political personal,
Amos’ novella-in-song Scarlet’s Walk
offers the most universal statement she
ever has made.
The Arts & Entertainment Editor can
be reached at artsdesk@unc.edu.
Senior Pictures
November 4—15
in the Yackety Yack office, Suite 106 Carolina Union
call 962-3912 with any questions
Call 1-800-588-7681
to make an Or go to
appointment www.mcgrathstudios.com
password NC3
Barman Thanks Beasties; Pond Sedates
MC Paul Barman
Paullelujah
★★★☆☆
Some artists have too much fun.
The Beastie Boys initially took hav
ing fun to the top of the charts with
more raunch and humor than had ever
come before. If you all remember the
Slim Shady LP, Eminem used to have a
more pronounced sense of humor
before the spotlight pounced on him.
Following in their footsteps -
although apparently more verbose than
even they are - is MC Paul Barman.
Barman’s third album, Paullelujah,
matches his off-kilter flow with its own
fairly appealing productions in an album
that refuses to let you get too serious.
The album’s title track is a joke of
wordplay with an easy beat that evokes
smiles from those wanting some hip hop
to do nothing but make them laugh.
“Cock Mobster” is an honest come
on to various actresses and divas from
Sigourney Weaver to Winona Ryder to
Teri Garr. Seemingly no actress is
spared - even though several should be.
On “Old Paul,” Barman flows about
his fear of the present, in which “Rap is
scary/It’s about to go pop,” over a track
right out of a spaghetti Western.
On “Bleeding Brain Grow,” pro
duced by long-time collaborator and
hip-hop producer Prince Paul, Barman
declares, “I want a sista, not a shiksa,” as
well as his lack of love for conservatives.
“Excuse You” is a retro-style track
that sounds like the Beasties in their
early years. Barman sings, “I’m filer
than the Iliad .. ./If you think you think
outside the box, you’re trapped in one.”
One of the album’s definite high
lights, “Anarchist Bookstore, Pt. 1,” fea
tures a jazzy vibe created by live instru
mentation. Subtle electric piano lines
along with Barman’s confidently geeky
flow, which never trips itself up, making
this track the centerpiece of the album.
“A Somewhat New Medium,” the
closer, centers on Barman’s pseudo-beat
poetry and a loose bass and piano
groove that recalls a Blaxpoitation film
score and the Beasties’ Check Your Head
and 111 Communication. /
Ultimately, Paullelujah is not unap
pealing, depending on one’s mood or
what someone wants from a listening.
It might be easy to dismiss the record
as a cheesy, exclusively student-friendly
record. This may be true to an extent,
given Barman’s style and flow - the lat
ter of which sounds like a dictionary in
a blender or words pulled out of a hat.
But Barman is able to pull the whole
thing off, largely based on his apparent
sincerity and the depth of his lyrics,
which - appearances aside - talk about
everything from sex to race to politics
while never seeming too preachy.
Ultimately, Barman’s flow and the
album’s underground sensibilities suc
ceed in posing a unique dilemma - are
the listeners supposed to nod their heads
or laugh out loud?
By Tacque Kirksey
Matt Pond PA
The Nature of Maps
•kirk-kit
The Nature of Maps, the latest album
by Matt Pond PA, conjures the feeling of
the winter landscapes its lyrics often
describe - inspiring in its beauty and
slightly dizzying.
Strings spiral like snowflakes, blanket
ing the arrangements in symphonic depth.
The lyrics are plaintive and longing for
summer’s warmth. Lovely and removed,
the album is an authoritative treatise on
loneliness without feeling self-absorbed.
In short, it’s a remarkable effort.
Composed of two cellists, a drum
mer, bassist and guitarist, Matt Pond PA
strives to sound more like a symphony
than a run-of-the-mill rock band. It suc
ceeds with flourishes like an ethereal
harp backing on “Athabasca” and the
throbbing vibraphone chord that ushers
in “Summer Is Coming.”
Each of these embellishments, per
fectly placed, combines for a haunting
statement that reverberates long after
the album’s final notes fade.
Frontman and guitarist Matt Pond
plays host over the festivities, grounding
the album in rock roots while letting its
symphonic aspirations soar. Pond might
sound like your average tortured indie
rocker, but his melodies and lyrics fea
ture a seductive simplicity that juxtapose
the intricacy of their arrangements.
From the dirge-like “The Party” to the
spiraling waltz of “Summer Is Coming,”
each of the songs on The Nature of Maps
seems an extension of the others, all play
ing on similar themes and images -
falling leaves, lingering lights and solitude
(“So silence is the way/Of breaking up the
days,” Pond intones in “Close Map”).
Some songs, such as “New Kehoe
NJ” and the archly titled “A Million
Middle Fingers,” are more brief snippets
than fully-realized songs. “No More
(Again)” is an instrumental reprise of the
earlier “No More,” an impressive and
almost operatic touch. The end result of
these orchestral flourishes is an album
that both captivates and subdues, a work
of wintry desperation that refuses to give
up on the spring.
The breathtaking final song on the
unfulfilled
ooerwhelmed.
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<£hp Saily (Ear Utri
LP, “Athabasca,” ends with an urging to
“Follow back into past winter time/Back
to fall, back to those early summers.”
We would do just that if only this
album would let us from its grip.
By Jill Spivey
Minus the Bear
Highly Refined Pirates
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If robots could dance, Minus the
Bear’s Highly Refined Pirates would be
disc one in their multi-disc robo-stereo.
Pursuing a route of mechanical beats,
precise rhythms and seamlessly clean
vocals, the quintet’s aptly titled release
negotiates 14 crisp tracks with a clear
agenda - deliver an expanding inter
pretation of rock in the tradition of
Fugazi and Queens of the Stone Age.
But take a moment to digest the
instrumental nuances - the single-note
repetition of the bass line is a framework
that’s engineered and efficient. The
technical, high-pitched guitar noodling
and keyboard ambience are a texture
that is electronic and enveloping. The
tight drumbeat is a mechanism that sets
its standards by the end of the first song,
closing it with defined intensity.
By the third song you also realize that
despite its rigid structure, the band plays
by its own rules. It defies convention
with odd changes in time signature, dis
tinctive shuffling beats, an infrequently
rhyming lyric meter and occasional
bridges played in a God-knows-what
scale. As icing on the cake, songs on the
album are segued by instrumental inter
ludes that sound amusingly new age.
Minus the Bear is indeed something
of a technical machine, but it’s a machine
possessed by quirk and emotion.
Singer Jake Snider’s refined vocals
are brimming with fervor and bitter
sweet meaning. This is the stuff of noc
turnal introspection after those nights of
finding love with someone new. This is
the stuff of experience gleaned in every
day’s misfortune.
The album’s closer, “Let’s Play
Guitar in a Five Guitar Band,” is all nos
talgia - “A few summers ago/We spent
weeks in her room/just having sex and
listening to jazz/And that was the life.”
Emotional culmination in the cho
ruses is controlled but fervent - Snider
lets loose without surrendering a
moment of pitch.
But Minus the Bear is not your typi
cal derivative melodrama. It recognizes
that music is not just a backdrop for
vocalists’ soapbox and knows the limits
of decency.
Observe the absurdly irrelevant song
titles, for instance, and you’ll notice the
band’s subtle humor serving as chasers
to the shots of poignancy. A song about
a midnight car ride along a lakeshore is
titled “Monkey!!! Knife!!! Fight!!!” while
the lyric-less song four, soothing and
sedate, is “Hey, Wanna Throw Up?”
Highly Refined Pirates is a solid release
from a young band that’s fresh but still
learning. The album doesn’t redefine ver
satility or innovation, but it’s nevertheless
a noteworthy step toward that end.
So, uh, rock and roll.
By Brandon Whiteside
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