Throwing muses have been around as long as R.E.M. and have outlasted the Replacements. But this Rhode Island-based trio of avant-pop pioneers still remains one of underground rock's least-exploited veteran bands. The group broke ground in the early '80s with singer Kristin Hersh's crystalline vocals and chilling lyrics and the music's dark, disturbed sweetness. Yet the Muses proved too sublime to influence any particular movement or capture a large audience. Instead they exist in a vacuum distinguished by ultraloyal fans and the distant veneration of the outside pop world.
her alien status ("I fell out of the sky") and sums up her inability to be one of the pack ("I'm headed for the trees over there, and if that's not a destination, I don't care"). Her voice is throatier than on past efforts and even a little more defiant and confident, yet her mere whispers convey inner turmoil better than most guttural screams.
There are straight-ahead pop songs here, like the bouncy "Tar Kissers," but the music is mostly fueled by Crazy Horse-style guitar feedback and menacing, subtle effects like shimmering organ. Shadowy background vocals give the songs a dangerous edge, while Spanish guitar, cello and violin add classical grace.
Limbo probably won't propel the Muses into overdue stardom, yet it successfully continues their tradition of delivering personal music too shy for mass consumption but too compelling to go completely unnoticed. (RS 741)
LORRAINE ALI
