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Box Tops Tear Off! (Last Call/Fusion III) So ol' Alex Chilton never made it across the border for last week's Jon Spencer show, but here's a little consolation prize: Chilton and the original 1967 lineup of his first band the Box Tops reuniting to do, not the blue-eyed soul-pop which snagged them million-selling singles, but typical fare of the latter-day Chilton. Which means spirited covers of revved up blues (Willie Dixon's "Wang Dang Doodle"), soul (Sam Cooke's "Soothe Me"), and sundry R&B and r'n'r gems ("Flying Saucers Rock 'n' Roll"). And it actually does Tear. 8/10 (Chris Yurkiw) Ebeling Hughes Transfigured Night (Zero Hour/Fusion III)
Sublime Acoustic (Bradley Nowell and Friends) (Gasoline Alley/Universal) On the eve of the release of their debut record, Sublime's leader died. Somehow, though, this dead man always seems to keep churning 'em out in time for the Christmas CD rush. Enough already! As capitalist record execs plunge through the bottom of Sublime's barrel, what we get is bootleg-like production of Camper Van Beethoven, Bob Marley and X songs, as well as some bare-bones versions of the songs from the debut album. It's not exactly an excruciating listen, and if you loved their previous work you might find this "interesting." But to the rest of us this just sounds like 18 versions of "Kumbaya." Let the kid rest. 4/10 (Johnson Cummins) Alphastone Elasticated Waveband (Enraptured/Brilliant)
Former Spaceman Pete Bassman has switched bass for guit and left the Spaceman 3 fold for... well, largely the same sort of thing as they, and their offshoots Spectrum, Spiritualized, Darkside, etc. always did. What you get is blasé drug mantras recited over mystical echo-fuzz trancerock cycles. Did you expect otherwise? Secret bonus: the cover is a heat-activated liquid crystal magic picture deal, promising hours of fun and "special wisdom" for people on drugs. 7.5/10 (Rupert Bottenberg)
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Bloque Self-titled (Luaka Bop/Warner)
So much for salsa's sappy romanticism and cheerful vibe, say Colombia's Bloque. This is no-nonsense, roots-conscious Latin rock, having little in common with the bland blend of say, Los Fabulosos Cadillacs, and with only the occasional Santana-ism. Musically, Bloque is way tougher than one would expect from David Byrne's Luaka Bop label. Salsa's familiar horns have been replaced with raw chunky guitar work, powerful in tandem with the spare, hard rhythms. And lyrically... hoo, boy. Political frustration compounded by heartbreak and hangovers. From "El Hedor" ("The Stench"): "My God, my country, my family/My home, my club, my car/My wife, my toothbrush, my guts/My life, my cancer, my worms." Doesn't exactly beg for a macarena, does it? 8.5/10 (Rupert Bottenberg)
Bob Ebeling and Chuck Hughes are two long-haired boys from Detroit who wish they were from Devon, but what with the wonders of recording technology are able to "transfigure" themselves into a British psychedelicatessen circa 1970. It's all well and good when they lock into a grandiose groove, with organs pumping up and guitars fuzzing out. But when they start singing in faux accents about teleportation and telepathy it confirms that they take "space rock" too literally for anyone's good. 7/10 (Chris Yurkiw)