MUSIC BOX |
Martin Stein |
Hanson (3 stars)
Underneath
It must be hard to be Hanson. The trio of brothers (Isaac, Taylor, Zac) took the blame for kick-starting the teen pop movement of the late '90s with their goofy bubblegum hit "MMMBop," gained legions of screaming teen-girl fans, then released a second album, This Time Around, that completely tanked. They've spent the last few years laying low and putting together Underneath, their third album and first to be released on their own 3CG label.
You might expect this to be the story of washed-up former pop stars, but the Hanson brothers were always better than the other artists they were unfairly lumped with, and since two of the three aren't even old enough to drink, they're still a little young to be has-beens.
Underneath is actually an accomplished, mature album of guitar-driven pop, combining the band's early bubblegum with the adult contemporary sounds of bands like Train and Matchbox Twenty. Writing, producing and playing most of the instruments, the brothers turn in a set of infectious tunes, from the lead single "Penny & Me" to "Lost Without Each Other," co-written by former New Radical Gregg Alexander, to the insanely catchy "Hey."
Youngest brother Zac has the thinnest voice of the three, and his two songs are the album's only weak spots. The rest of the music is relatively unadventurous, but it reveals a band with an impeccable pop sense that deserves much more than an appearance on the inevitable I Love the '90s.
Josh Bell
Various Artists (2 stars)
Pink Panther's Penthouse Party
Missed opportunity. With all the DJs and producers benefiting from the so-called "lounge music" of the 1960s (Ursula 1000, Fantastic Plastic Machine and Thievery Corporation, among many, simply wouldn't exist if Martin Denny and Esquivel hadn't), you'd think that someone would make a decent Henry Mancini remix album. Pink Panther's Penthouse Party could have been that record; instead, it strives to be a sort of Loungecore for Dummies, and fails even in that capacity.
The set starts promisingly enough. Fischerspooner's remix of Mancini's deathless "Pink Panther Theme," while nowhere near as good as the original, does take the track in a new direction; if Peter Sellers' Inspector Clouseau had found his way into the Matrix, he might very well have moved to its playful beats. But two more remixes of the theme fall flat, and the rest of the set is comprised of tired, several-year-old tracks by Arling & Cameron, Nicola Conte and Dimitri From Paris, most of which are cribbed from other, similar compilation discs.
Bypass this collection and use the file server of your choice to find Kid Koala's version of Mancini's "Moon River." It brings the composition fully into our era, and makes you feel the way audiences must have when they first heard Mancini's music: like you're sitting in a penthouse, chilled cocktail in hand and a good, long night ahead.
Geoff Carter
Grant Lee Phillips (4 stars)
Virginia Creeper
I was recently told that Grant Lee Philips makes semiregular appearances on the WB's Gilmore Girls as the town's wandering troubadour. If this is true (I refuse to watch the show to find out), it's a lucky break for the singer-songwriter, who has the misfortune of being an FM radio artist in an era when FM radio is hostile to both listeners and artists.
Shame, too. I'd love to hear "Lily-A-Passion," Phillips' loose-footed, violin-driven ode to his dream girl ("She's a piratey soul / full a vinegar 'n' glitter"), playing in sets with Neil Young and Ryan Adams. The shuffling "Wish I Knew" would make an ideal mate for David Garza and Wilco; that is, if those artists were played on pop radio. And "Calamity Jane" could be a huge radio hit; if Clear Channel didn't have the dial preloaded with "American Idol" contestants and overproduced, amateurish, castrato bullshit.
The bottom line is Virginia Creeper is a joyous pop record, a credit to the increasingly misnamed "alt.country" genre, with ups and downs ideally suited to driving the open road with the radio blasting. It's depressing to know that what will surely be one of the best records of 2004 has to find its audience in the empty spaces between phony teenaged concerns and commercials for Clearasil. Grant Lee Phillips' Virginia Creeper, and the public at large, deserve better.
Geoff Carter