NEW ALBUMS: Bitch and Animal, Graeme Downes, Thalia Zedek

Bitch and Animal

Eternally Hard

(Righteous Babe Records)

Mmmmmhmmmm, just what the doctor ordered: lesbian-transsexual folk-rock from the goddess Ani Difranco’s Righteous Babe stables. Except…well. Bitch and Animal come across occasionally as ukelele-brandishing, homosexual takes on Blink-182, with songs about “The Best Cock on the Block,” a moving tribute to the wonders of dildos, and “Sparkly Queen Areola;” the songs are, according to the liner notes, “mainly ramblings on our cereal box of life, the sparkly sparkly pussy.” Only instead of Blink’s surf-punk bar-chord pop, the whole shebang is framed by some beautifully recorded but distinctly do-it-yourself acousticness, with frequent accompanying howls and yelps.

Ani D herself guests in minor roles on some of the juiciest, most attractive songs, like the sweet and sour “Traffic,” which revolves around an introspective bass riff and heart-on-sleeve lyrics by Bitch: “All we have is our love and our guts, baby.” The melody takes a back seat for much of the album though, in favour of repetitive bass lines and vituperative rap. Folk rap has becoming increasingly popular since tracks like Everlast’s “What it’s Like,” but this is some of the first folk rap to unite the angry sexual preoccupation of rap, (“What can I do for you my bitch?”) with a personal perspective and stripped-down folk accompaniment, driven by Animal’s djembe and Bitch’s bass.

Some might find it a little tricky to relate to the woes of “Boy Girl Wonder,” a simple she-don’t-love-me song with echoes of “Why Must I be a Teenager in Love” in its plaintive chorus. However, fewer teenagers—even 21st century ones—grieve, “But he’s got a real one, and mine’s from the store.” The novelty of “Ganja,” a song about Jesus and his Biblical cohorts getting high to the tune of “Angels from the Realms of Glory” may wear off quickly, but the childlike elegance and innocence of “Mother’s Day” is worth a few return journeys.

3/5

—Andrew R. Iliff

Graeme Downes

Hammers and Anvils

(Matador Records)

Hooray for Antipodean rock: Sure, it may have all been done before, but these days few can keep the rock idiom alive without sounding dated. And now here’s a charm-filled album by the former frontman of New Zealand band The Verlaines, Graeme Downes. A lecturer in a rock degree program (can you imagine?: Speaking tonight, we have Professor Axl Rose, lecturing on “Teased Hair and Split Ends in Detroit Rock of the mid-1980’s: Hair today, Gone tomorrow?”), this is rock done just right, as the minute-count shows: Barely any of the 13 songs last much longer than the three minutes it takes to arrive, get you smiling, and swing out the door—no overblown rock histrionics or seven and eight minute guitar solos. The songs bubble with a humor that is often abandoned in modern guitar music. One of the highlights is the jazzy “Cole Porter,” which finds the singer “plundering all of Cole Porter this morning/Trying to find me a rhyme half as beautiful as you”—honesty missing from today’s mainstream.

The uplifting “Song for a Hollywood Road Movie” is title appropriately—a bluesy, evocative song that sounds conjures the best bits of introspective Sheryl Crow. The glowering “Gucci” pays homage to the ominous blues of triphop, while “Getting Out of It” is a jazzy torch song for anyone on the run from a relationship. “Sunday Kickaround” celebrates the relief of a pickup football game as a respite from the demands of life, conveyed through edgy Eastern-flecked music which goes straight to the stomach, finally resolving itself with “Mastercontrol,” concluding this surprise treat of an album.

4/5

—Andrew R. Iliff

Thalia Zedek

Been Here and Gone

(Matador Records)

Men who can stretch their vocal range over the area traditionally reserved for women and victims of unfortunate bicycle accidents are often some of the most exhilarating singers around. Anyone who doubts this has clearly not discovered the ethereal wonders of Jeff Buckley or Thom Yorke, let alone Jimmy Sommerville. Alas, despite occasional exceptions like Tracy Chapman, the reverse doesn’t seem to be true nearly as often. Fortunately, Thalia Zedek, formerly the vocalist for Come and Uzi, has such a female baritone voice showcased on this album—part Leonard Cohen (whom she covers on the elegiac “Dance Me to the End of Love”), part Nick Cave, with the phrasing and sensibility of gloomed out Elliot Smith.

The viola and slide guitars give the whole affair a Western tinge, like the Cowboy Junkies on a bad trip. Yet despite the unremitting, minor-key downbeatness of it all, the album never reaches the depths of claustrophobia and despair that gives Cave his unique edge, and makes him so hard to stomach for most; instead it occasionally wanders into Radiohead territory. Her voice truly is an experience in itself—a gloriously wrecked set of pipes from the desolation of the moon, that at times has the gravely timbre of a suicidal Peter Gabriel. The lyrics are all of a piece with the music: “You’re all alone tonight” (“Strong”); “I know I can’t win” (“Treacherous Thing”); “Your God hates me” (“1926”). The standout track is the magnificent “Desanctified (Full Circle),” which exemplifies Zedek’s vocal power and musical range and supports the whole with a stunning viola solo. Been Here and Gone will not open up any new avenues in modern music, but it will provide perfect accompaniment for the solitary small hours.

4/5

—Andrew R. Iliff