**** "I can't believe it's not butter!"
*** "It might be butter, but I have my doubts."
** "There is no way in hell this is really butter."
* "Butter, my ass..."
(Division One/Atlantic Records)
For nearly two decades, guitarist Marc Ribot has distinguished himself as a resourceful sideman in bands led by Tom Waits, Elvis Costello, John Zorn, and John Lurie. Saints offers an opportunity to hear Ribot independent of his usual employers' strong musical visions, in solo performances that are expressive and experimental, authentic and alien. The touchstone of the album is the holy ghost of tenor saxophonist Albert Ayler, who drowned in New York's East River in 1970 and is represented by three compositions in which Ribot soars with a beat-up homemade sound. He tackles the plaintive "Witches and Devils," leaning into the vernacular inspirations with elemental force and pointing to the pulsing hurt that made Ayler a genius. NATE LIPPENS
Friday at the Hideout: Boss Detroit Garage 1964-67
When I hear somethin' this good I gets to twitchin' like a junkie kickin' gets to scritchin'!! Aw'ight! The Hideout was a Dee-troit teen "club," a weekly rented VFW hall, and the FIRST, er, club in Michigan to host live acts. Cool... well yeah, but they say the kids probably showed up on accounta the house band, the Fugitives, sayin' "fuck" in their version of "Louie Louie"! However, THAT ain't why I'm yammerin'... the club started a label... Hideout Records, and they loaded it fulla local garage acts, INCLUDING... the Pleasure Seekers, featuring a young Suzi Quatro! Suffice to say FatH is a cool, rockin' document of a tiny slice of a local scene, and makes Michigan sound like a tiny place. Now then... them pics of a young Bob Seger is NICE, but fer real, Nawton: Get on them lawyers and wrangle us free some of Seger's stuff with the Last Heard!! MIKE NIPPER
COO COO CAL
Apparently I've been living in a gulag without MTV, because this album came out way back in August and is in the videos and shit. But Disturbed is so hilarious, I can't resist it. As detailed in his insane single, "My Projects," Coo Coo Cal raps in creepy grunts and Pauly Shore-like whinnies and says he is from the ghetto of Milwaukee, WI. (I doubted the validity of this mythical Milwaukee ghetto, but my friend who grew up there assured me that "there's definitely a lot of freaky gangster shit going on.") Black Sheep taught us about guys like Coo Coo Cal, and the hilarious bravado of their over-the-top thuggery. But even though this record is comic entertainment, I do want to sympathize with old Coo Coo's poverty/ghetto/drugs plight. Unfortunately, he's acting like an ass, and he is invalidating himself by pushing his message through the dirty colon we call MTV's TRL. JULIANNE SHEPHERD