Black Grape
Stupid, Stupid, Stupid
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That Shaun Ryder is even alive, let alone making music, belies his reputation. As the leader of the Happy Mondays, he was the poster boy for pharmaceutical indulgence during the height of England's late-eighties Madchester scene. Ryder not only survived his fifteen minutes of fame, he also made an improbable comeback in 1995 with a new group, the electrorabble-rousers Black Grape. Black Grape's debut, It's Great When You're Straight ... Yeah, was a kaleidoscope of dope beats courtesy of producer Danny Saber and dopey rhymes by the irrepressible Ryder. But on Stupid Stupid Stupid, Saber, Ryder and the rest of the Grape posse don't quite squeeze out the same head-spinning
Read More elixir. The album opens with Ronald and Nancy Reagan sound alikes pledging their allegiance to getting high in the White House, which doesn't bode well (the former first couple are so eighties, not even second-rate comics bother with them anymore). Thereafter, Saber sticks seventies funk into a nineties production blender, and the results aren't so passé. Hammond organ, Memphis soul horns, congas and falsetto vocals weave into a swirling cut-and-paste barrage of sound effects, ping-pong percussion and zooming synths. Through this maze, Ryder spouts inspired nonsense, loopy rhymes and the occasional melodic hook. Happily mired in a worldful of pills, skanky lovers and petty crime, he is so off the cuff that he sounds barely conscious. Saber provides just enough structure to turn Ryder's spew into party anthems like "Dadi Waz a Badi" and the salacious "Squeaky." But Ryder starts running on fumes as the disc winds down. Saber' scrambles to give each track an identity – a sitar on "Tell Me Something," helium harmonies on "Money Back Guaranteed," industrial thump for "Rubber Band" – but the surprising twists that made the debut such a revelation are lacking. And with a cover of Frederick Knight's "Lonely," the band starts rummaging through the compost heap of obscure soul songs in search of filler. On "Marbles," Ryder himself slurs:"I can even smell the smell through the window." (RS 781) GREG KOT |
