cut out xxviii – this is what my twenties sounded like
Four more discs from the most transitional of periods in my life – my late 20s. One foot in childhood, another in adulthood. Sounds I associate with different times, different places, sometimes in surprising combinations. In any case, it’s a draw from the box that’s a little varied, but wouldn’t necessarily be out of place on a turn of the century radio dial, if the program director was a little adventurous.
♦ Ozzy Osbourne – Ozzmosis: This is another one of those “didn’t send the record club card back on time” aquisitions; not something I would have necessarily purchased intentionally. Ozzy is a rock legend, and one of the great personalities of the genre. His work with Black Sabbath and some of his solo stuff are undeniable classics (I personally love “Shot in the Dark” from The Ultimate Sin), but this record really isn’t. There’s some good stuff here (“See You On The Other Side” is a nice tune), but the fakey-keyboard strings all over “I Just Want You” are a bit much (even if they were played by Rick Wakeman), and “Perry Mason” is kinda hokey despite the cool guitar riff; actually, all the Zakk Wylde guitar work is pretty great – but that’s to be expected. Hardcore Ozzy fans seem to love this one, though I’m having a hard time really agreeing with them; it just doesn’t hit the right notes for me.
♦ Spin Doctors – Turn it Upside Down: Today, this band is looked at as largely a 90s punchline, with vocalist Chris Barron’s scruffy beard and knit ear flap hat. Despite selling “only” a million or so copies, this record is considered a flop when compared to the multiplatinum juggernaut that was Pocketful of Kryptonite. With a bit of distance, though, there’s some pretty great work and a lot to like here. “Big Fat Funky Booty” is a great jam, aside from it’s lyrical hokeyness, and “You Let Your Heart Go Too Fast” is a nice little pop song (and a top 10 hit) that got a lot of radio play and most people forget is on this record. There’s a reason this band clicked when they did; they were a fun, talented group who wrote good hooks and had solid musical chops; plus, in 1994, everybody looked scruffy and had a tendency toward the neo-hippie. Also, this record has “Cleopatra’s Cat” on it, which is expansive, eclectic, and probably my favorite Spin Doctors tune.
♦ Big Back Forty – Bested: I saw this group open for the Badlees in the late 90s in a dingy hotel ballroom on the West Shore, and was duly impressed. I snagged this record from a used CD bin at some point later, and kind of fell in love. The band never really went anywhere (I think this record was pretty much it), but they’ve got that great bar band/alt-country sound that wasn’t in vogue quite long enough for my tastes; I’ll always have a taste for the beer-soaked roadhouse poet thing, especially when it’s backed up by simple, effective instrumentation – bass, drums, vintage Telecasters plugged straight into the overdriven tube amp, and the occasional pedal steel or accordion for flavor. Tunes like “Blood”, “8 Miles Down” and “Bested” stick with you, low-key, yet catchy to the point you find them playing in the back corners of your subconscious days after hearing them. The theoretical band of band I picture myself playing in one of these years sounds more than a little bit like this one.
♦ Pete Palladino – Sweet Siren of the Reconnected: Here’s another one of the Badlees solo project discs, and in a lot of ways, it’s the most familiar-sounding, which isn’t surprising, given that it’s Pete out in front, with the rest of the Badlees backing him – what makes it a solo record is the fact that these are Pete’s tunes, which trend a little more toward pop than the country-folk that typifies Alexander’s output. The Badlees early “signature” sound is here, though, especially on the early tracks – “What A Difference A Year Makes” is the best Badlees song not attributed to them, with all the guitar hooks and vocal interplay one comes to expect (along with a few understated synths one wouldn’t). The rest of the record takes a few interesting side trips outside the box, with mixed results – “Complicated Choreography” is a nice ballady thing that straddles the line between sweet and trite, whereas “Fourth of July” is an effective distorted wall of sound (though I personally like the PJ&R live version from 50:45 Live better), and the title track has drones and, um…bagpipes (shades of Steve Earle’s celtic tendencies, though it doesn’t quite deliver). Still, the songs all work, even if the arrangments don’t – many of them played better to me on Pete’s solo tour (which he was kind enough to bring down south) supporting the record. Being a fan, I’m disposed to finding stuff to like, and in this case, I didn’t have to look very hard at all; there’s a lot here to enjoy.