Beggars Banquet
"Help wanted: former lead singer of grunge and hard rock outfits needsnew direction for forthcoming solo record. Friends and former bandmembers are welcome to apply within." Mark Lanegan might not haveadvertised quite like this for his debut on Beggars, but that's what heended up with for this EP intended as a primer for the record laterthis year. Queens Nick Oliveri and Josh Homme play a number ofinstruments on the majority of the songs and even share songwritingduties, and Greg Dulli — Lanegan's current partner-in-crime from theGutter Twins project — adds flavor here and there. With a roster likethat, the music is bound to be a departure from previous solo records;the question is whether it is a welcome one. I'm holding out hope, butthis group of songs doesn't inspire much confidence. This is chancestaken, trying out a few strange licks and larks, and floating them outfor good measure. There are still strong songs, and if those are anindication of the upcoming full-length, I have no reason to worry. It'sthe misses that bring out a little anxiety. Sure, the cackle andplayfulness that open the EP is pure sex, bump and grind and choircoos, with scorching leads courtesy of Homme. The next track, though,flows into the inane, with Chris Goss singing "He's got the wholeworld..." and Lanegan riffing spoken word over the top. Eventuallythere's a multitude of voices, and then it fades to nothing, or nothingof value anyway. Everywhere that classic swallowed-glass Lanegan voiceturns it out and moves it along, always perfect. It's the music thatfails him from time to time. The cover, obligatory for most EPs thesedays it seems, is Captain Beefheart's "Clear Spot," and it's not worththe time or Alain Johannes' involvement, as it isn't all thatimpressive. And the piano ballad "Lexington Slow Down" is also a strainto listen to for most of it's three minutes. The rest, though is prettystrong and flows nicely. If Lanegan left most of the experimentation tothe wayside on his album, more the better. If not, it's high time tomorph again.
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Mark Lanegan, "Here Comes That Weird Chill"
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