Gwen Stefani (3 stars)
Love. Angel. Music. Baby.
Gwen Stefani wants to be cool. The lead singer of No Doubt burst on the scene with her band wearing unhip, old-fashioned dresses and complaining about being treated unfairly by the patriarchy, but now all she wants to do is put on some haute couture and sing about bling-bling to the tune of today's hottest dance-pop hitmakers. It's a little disappointing to listen to Stefani turn into a pale imitation of early Madonna on her solo debut, Love. Angel. Music. Baby., even if she and her legion of collaborators do come up with a few catchy tunes.
At least LAMB isn't a watered-down version of a No Doubt record, instead establishing itself as a wholly different entity, with producers like Dallas Austin, Dr. Dre, Nellee Hooper and OutKast's Andre 3000 giving Stefani a dance-oriented pop sound. With so many cooks in the kitchen, LAMB sounds schizophrenic, jumping from the cutting-edge sounds of Andre 3000 to Dre's classic hip-hop beats to several songs that take the '80s synth-pop influence of recent No Doubt work to its logical extreme.
The latter songs are where Stefani shines the most, since she sounds much more comfortable wallowing in synth-drenched nostalgia than trying to come off as the next Missy Elliott (even going so far as to plug her own clothing line on the awful Jimmy Jam-Terry Lewis production "Harajuku Girls"). Ironically, the standout track is the Austin-produced "Cool," the most No Doubt-like song on the album, a simple guitar-driven song about being friends with an ex. It's the only point at which Stefani sounds relaxed, and not pushed beyond her capacities trying to keep pace with the in-crowd.
Jello Biafra (3.5 stars)
w/The Melvins
Never Breathe What You Can't See
Though his multi-disc, spoken-word collections have gotten more attention, Jello Biafra has remained active in music, too, with a series of discs usually featuring a collaborator worthy of the Johnny Rotten of American punk.
Never Breathe What You Can't See is no exception, and finds Biafra playing front man to grunge forefathers the Melvins. But it is Biafra's presence that dominates. Packed with his manic Andy Rooney vocals and quirked-out rants against everything, Never Breathe What You Can't See proves again that Biafra was the life of the Dead Kennedys (and thus, the road version of the Dead Kennedys is a whorish zombie without him).
The problem here is that, years ago, no more proof was needed on this point. And nothing is gained from the author of "Winnebago Warrior" now writing "Yuppie Cadillac"; and it isn't just the subject matter that makes this feel like such a retread—does anyone even still use the word "yuppie"? On the other hand, Biafra's wit remains as vicious as ever, and the current war has him going at his old targets—the military industrial complex, mainstream media, the government—with a reinvigorated, I-told-you-so energy.
The highlights are the last two songs, "Enchanted Thoughts" and "Dawn of The Locusts," which in addition to offering great performances by Biafra are also tellingly the two tracks most heavily impacted by the Melvins.