cryptic rock, evoking all at once the dapper menace of Tindersticks, the deadpan decadence of the Velvet Underground and the thrift-shop psychedelia of the Beta Band.
No matter how spooky they are, the grooves bite, from the modified calypso of "The Equaliser" to the hurtling "Pet Eunoch," in which a Doberman guitar snaps at its leash while a pianist pounds nails. Carl Turney's sharp cymbal work sizzles in the foreground, like a rattlesnake suddenly looming out of the bushes, while Blackburn's voice hovers in the shadows; guitars and keyboards drift like heavy storm clouds. "Disintegrate!" Blackburn hisses through a momentary gap in "Welcome." The oppressive organ drone of the title song leaves him gasping, and as "The Vulture" circles, the singer breaks into a feverish mantra. The closing lullaby of lyrical guitar and lilting background voices promises a respite. But then Blackburn purrs, "You're all made up for the wars," and you realize the track, like much of Walking With Thee, is all the more disquieting for its prettiness.
GREG KOT
(RS 891 - March 14, 2002)
Over the next twelve months, artists in every musical genre will release songs written in response to the September 11th terror attacks. But with the first single from, Drive, Alan Jackson has already set the bar extremely high. "Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)," which Jackson debuted live on the CMA Awards last fall, might just be the purest distillation of post-9/11 emotions that may ever be set to music. With its simple litany of people's varying responses to the attacks, it says more about us as a nation than a hundred jingoistic anthems. But then, Drive is rife with such finely observed musings on the human condition. The title track, a tribute to Jackson's late dad, is a touching reminder of the bond not only between man and machine, but parent and child. And talk about man and machine -- only a gearhead like Jackson could turn a man's feelings for his car into a romantic number like "First Love." The George Strait duet, "Designated Drinker," might be the only male bonding song that urges listeners to get plastered responsibly. Yes, Drive could've used a few less generic love songs (and more offerings like the sly, war-between-the-sexes ditty "Work In Progress"), but if it's well-crafted traditional country you're after, Alan Jackson will never steer you wrong.
ANDREA DRESDALE
(January 14, 2002)
Clinic's second album wasn't as immediate as their debut or their incredible debut singles, but it's still a great record. A brighter production palette doesn't stop the band from hitting new heights of strangeness. "The Equaliser" is like the Fall playing "Dem Bones." Abe Blackburn's vaguely exasperated Peter Lorre-esque voice on the title track is also a highlight.
