CD REVIEWS

The Golden Boys, Betty Davis, Michael Bublé

With 'Whisky Flower' Golden Boys mature, but retain edge

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Golden Boys

'Whiskey Flower'

(Emperor Jones)

A smart friend of mine made a keen observation about these Austin country-garage punks. He said when the band started, guitarist/singer/songwriter Matthew Hoopengardner felt and sounded like the lone melodic holdout against the total chaos of Wes Coleman's bust-amp noise guitar and maniac drummer James Arthur messy beats. Over the years, this ratio has reversed with the chaos dialed down in favor of structure. Arthur has been gone for two years, replaced by the excellent Pat Troxel. Hoopengardrner's songs are still sharp and weirdly hickish, and Coleman's have traded feedback for their own ramshackle, junk-pop vibe.

This sort of progression is pretty natural for indie bands — one can make a mess for only so long before wanting to clean up a little bit — but it hasn't seemed to dampen the Golden Boys' trashy verve at all. This is still pretty uneasy listening. Hoopengarder's tunes "Yankee Dollar" and "Never Wanna See You Again" bounce with grimy backwoods stomp, while his "Remember Georgia" sounds like one mopey hangover, complete with car wreck guitar solo. Coleman's "Bongo's Bongo's Bongo's" would make both the Faces and Guided By Voices proud, but "La La Birdie" has that "demo from 'Exile on Main Street' " quality that too many bands try and fail to capture. This is alternative country without any of the self-important dullness that label often implies. —Joe Gross

Betty Davis

'Betty Davis'

(Light in the Attic)

'They Say I'm Different'

(Light in the Attic)

Betty Davis was the original superfreak. Her mind-blowing sensuality, striking voice and rawer-than-sushi funk put her in a category of her own and nobody ever caught up with her. Born Betty Mabry in 1945, she was married to Miles Davis for a year starting in 1968, likely hastening his work in psychedelic funk fusion. He allegedly thought she was too young and too wild (for Miles Davis!?), but it seems more likely that she was too independent and too visionary for Davis' ego (not to mention that affair with Jimi Hendrix).

Then she made a few albums of the sexiest funk ever waxed before vanishing into obscurity in the '80s. The first two albums have been reissued by Light in the Attic, for which they deserve a round of applause.

Her first album, produced by Sly and the Family Stone drummer Greg Errico, is an absolute jaw-dropper. Featuring a mess of musicians from the Family Stone, Graham Central Station and Tower of Power, Davis balances a boundless sexual id with thrilling funk. The opener "If I'm In Luck I Might Get Picked Up," fairly well throbs with barely contained tension. Drum and bass thwap drive Davis' voice, which moves from a mumble to cat scratch fever. When a random voice says "I'ma take her home, man," you can't help but nod in agreement. By the end of the album, a cold shower is in order.

The follow-up, "They Say I'm Different" from 1974, dropped Errico as musical director and saw Davis producing the album herself, using mainly East Coast musicians. The results are ever so slightly clearer and bluesier, with more open space in the grooves. But she's no less lyrically transgressive. "He Was a Big Freak" details an S&M affair ("I used to whip him. I used to beat him/He used to dig it/He used to laugh when I made him cry." Dang.) while the 25th-century blues on the title track outlines her farm life, her blueswoman vibe and status as "a piece of sugar cane." Nobody made music like this before; nobody is ever going to make music like this again. — Joe Gross

Michael Bublé

'Call Me Irresponsible'

(Reprise/Wea)

Each generation gets the Sinatra it deserves. Of course, the biggest apple to fall from the Tree of Frank was -- is -- Tony Bennett, but he's had 50 years to develop his own oft-imitated style. (Listen to his early recordings for shockingly derivative blandness.)

Steve Lawrence, Jack Jones and, well, Frank Sinatra Jr. proved unripe Franks, but a generation later, Harry Connick Jr. matched Sinatra's crooner looks with a smoother facsimile of his saloon-singer persona. Perhaps Connick never endured Sinatra's emotional highs and lows, because his voice usually lands in the safe middle distance.

In the past four years, Canadian Michael Bublé has become the latest pretender to the Sinatra throne, and his album "Call Me Irresponsible," which quickly hit No. 1 on the charts, shows he is not a one-note mimic.

The title song stirs memories of the Master's phrasing and timbre, as do "The Best is Yet to Come," "I've got the World on a String" and "That's Life." In another Sinatra key, "I'm Your Man" and "Wonderful Tonight" settle into a loose, sultry mode that most closely matches Bublé's natural delivery, recalling 1960s lounge music and Brazilian jazz (especially the duet with Ivan Lins).

The big-band zest of "It Had Better be Tonight (Meglio Stasera)," on the other hand, comes from the Land of Dino. "Me and Mrs. Jones" generates surprisingly soulful heat, but "Comin' Home, Baby," backed by Boyz II Men, is all too ersatz. "Lost" and "Everything" might as well have come from the tonsils of "American Idol" semi-finalists. Most uncategorizable on this album is an acceptably earnest version of "Always on My Mind," while "Dream" recalls Bennett's lighter, wistful touch.

Frank? No. Mere impersonator? No. Somewhere in between. — Michael Barnes