CD reviews

The Breeders
Mountain Battles
(4AD)
5.2

Goes well with: Throwing Muses, The Amps, Pixies (duh!)

If you mistook Kim Deal’s ear-to-ear Kool Aid smile during her performances with the reunited Pixies as a sign that they’d make another album, a new Breeders album might seem bittersweet. But judging from Mountain Battles—Deal’s first Breeders album in six years and the first since Deal and her sister/guitarist Kelley got sober—she’s no longer living in the past.  

To give her credit, Deal strays far from the loud-quiet-loud formula her former band perfected, which is admirable considering she could have come out of the reunion with a subconscious desire to play Pixies-esque tunes. Instead, there’s discordant plucking, nary a catchy riff and yet another lo-fi Steve Albini mix that sounds like it was mastered in a dumpster. Things pick up toward the end, with “Walk it Off” and “It’s the Love” sounding like they’d be stellar in a live setting, but most of the songs sound like skeletons of what should have been meaty, rocking tracks.

Musically, sobriety can be a double-edged sword. While the Deals may be at peace with their inner demons, their edge is dulled by the melodic byproducts of that reckoning. You may hear moments of clarity on Mountain Battles, but I’d rather hear the sound of a relapse.  
—Seth Combs

The Breeders perform on Monday, April 28, at ’Canes.

The Grouch
Show You the World
(Legendary Music)
7.8

Goes well with: Living Legends, Sage Francis, Del tha Funky Homosapien

Maturity can bring newfound depth and tenacity to some artists while causing many others to devolve into rote tepidity. It’s been almost five years since The Grouch—a founding member of the underground hip-hop collective Living Legends—released his last solo album, but the years haven’t robbed him of any vivacity.

Throughout Show You the World, The Grouch remains entrenched in his indie roots while also tackling contemporary issues and championing salient causes. “Mom & Pop Killer” is a well-produced attack on corporate America’s unchecked ability to destroy small business.

The shaky, hyperactive beat of “The Bay to LA” is a perfect track for a guest appearance by MURS, while “Artsy” offers the kind of underwater, mellow production you would expect from Doom or Dilla. The album peaks with “Hot Air Balloons,” a high-energy, jazzed-up jolt featuring fellow Legends Bicasso and Scarub.

All 15 of these tracks give The Grouch something to be happy about. That’s because, unlike the career arc of many artists, Show You the World proves that embracing humility and maturity doesn’t necessarily mean losing your fire.
—Richie Lauridsen

The Grouch performs Wednesday, April 23, at ’Canes.

Barry Adamson
Back to the Cat
(Central Control)
2.0

Goes well with: A weak Leonard Cohen record and a strong stomach.

Barry Adamson certainly has an impressive résumé—bassist for art-punkers Magazine, multi-instrumentalist on Nick Cave’s creepiest records, avant-garde sound collagist, film composer, etc. Given his eclecticism, it’s disappointing (if not quite surprising) that the quality of his work is so wildly inconsistent.

Back to the Cat is the most recent of Adamson’s deteriorating attempts to become an oddball, intellectual “singer-songwriter.” As with previous outings, the biggest problem is Adamson’s weak voice—a forced, nasal croon—here applied to a set of campy, forgettable jazz tunes.

Adamson’s insistence on vocal tracks would be understandable if his lyrics had something to say, but instead they’re based primarily on simplistic throwaway couplets like “People, they are dumb/And it’s come to my attention/that I’m one” (“People”).  Spaced-out instrumentals such as “Flight,” on the other hand, work just fine. One wonders how the artist could have recorded both of these tracks without anyone pointing out the staggering difference in quality.

Interested parties should instead seek out Adamson’s poorly titled (but otherwise excellent) Oedipus Shmoedipus, on which the singing is wisely handed to guest vocalists. Back to the Cat will conversely be remembered (or more likely, forgotten) as one more in a long series of missteps.
—Ben Greenstein