Word: albums
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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Crossover is usually a pejorative term in the world of music, but these women do it with class. A Ma Zone may abandon the pure a cappella of earlier albums, but Zap Mama still have voices to contend with. Founded by Marie Daulne, a native of Zaire raised in Europe, this Brussels quintet reflects the eclectic cosmopolitanism of both Daulne's upbringing and their home city, with lyrics in French, various African languages and English. Elements of African tribal chants and Pygmy song blend seamlessly with Daulne's incredible lead vocals, which flow easily from breathless pixie to soul sister...
...problem is, the album doesn't swing. Ferry's winking suaveness would seem perfectly suited to these tunes, but instead Ferry merely comes across as an oddly restrained lounge singer, tired of singing the same songs for the umpteenth time. There's none of the gusto or the delicious abandon of his other covers, and the minimal production on the album doesn't help matters: the horns never are quite brassy enough, and Ferry's voice sounds muted at points. Instead of being languidly wistful, as one presumes he intended, "Falling in Love Again" and "Where or When" is merely...
...little French fairy-voice. I live for moments like that: walking into a room and being hit in the heart by a most unexpected, most dreamed-of sound. That was the beginning of my controlled adoration of Suzi Lee, Slide bandmember, who has just released her solo and French album, Blue. In this naked cluster of songs she wrote "for myself, to myself, from heart to soothe my soul," every number is aching and wistful and runs a private circuit all day between the head and the heart. The title track is the one that arrests you, and convinces...
...hours brings the futuristic pulse of his last few albums to a screeching halt, pushing back with retro riffs and a painful amount of awkward nostalgia. The continued use of synthesizers in such a mix seems like contrived "coolness." The lack of interest or elegance apparent in song after song of faded love and introspection reduces Bowie's renowned musical and lyrical ferocity to tired (and tiresome) whining. Every track has its moments, but such nuances in a banal batch of tunes only remind the listener of better Bowie. "If I'm Dreaming My Life" and "The Pretty Things...
Looking Forward to the new Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young album? So was I. When I was in elementary school and my friends were swooning for the toxic melodies of The New Kids on the Block and Vanilla Ice, I was singing along to the tunes of "Ohio" and "Woodstock," daydreaming about Yasgur's farm and music with a "message." While my friend's musical idols were worrying about hair mousse and Hammer pants, mine were getting liver transplants. But the music I loved was distinctly dated fare, so I had hope that the new CSNY album would take some...