ShareThisBy CHUCK CAMPBELL
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
"THE RETURN," Ruben Studdard (J Records)
On the title track/opening cut of "The Return," a self-aggrandizing Ruben Studdard announces that "the Velvet Teddy Bear" _ i.e. Studdard _ is back.
Did anyone miss him?
"American Idol" fans certainly have moved on since 2003, when Studdard beat Clay Aiken to win the second season of the reality show and released his debut, "Soulful." Scores of other wannabe superstars have wooed their way into the hearts of "Idol" watchers in the years since, and really, why would anyone want to look back?
Studdard offers no reason, playing it so safe on "The Return" that you'd think he was still trying to win the show. He proves himself to be a panderer, not an artist _ a salesman hawking the same merchandise as any other paint-by-numbers neo-soul singer.
He is indisputably a fine vocalist, but his rote wailing up and down the scales on the hopelessly generic leadoff single "Change Me" sums up the hollow grandstanding Studdard resorts to throughout "The Return."
Most telling of all is the "bonus track," a cover of the Brenda Russell-penned "If Only for One Night," which was a 1986 single by Luther Vandross _ the man Studdard so desperately wants to be. And to give him credit, Studdard focuses himself for his best performance on this song, passionately presiding over the track's florid orchestrations.
He also offers laudable grace on "Our Story," and "The Return" dishes out a few other nice tricks elsewhere ... Studdard singing low, backing vocals landing on a nice melody, a rich rhythm or two. ...
Yet this is mostly an uber-polished product for the masses by the masses: The CD insert is loaded with so many names it could rival the credit scroll for an epic Hollywood film. "Listen to Ya Heart," for example, acknowledges 11 songwriters (and they should all be ashamed for their part in the snorefest).
Studdard also gets songwriting credits for a few tracks, cuts like "To Da Crib" and "Blow Ya Mind" that are every bit as lame as their titles.
Some idol.
Rating (five possible): 2
"WAKE," Dead Can Dance (4AD)
It's time for Dead Can Dance to make new music or die.
Last year the curiously complementary/contradictory world-music duo of Lisa Gerrard and Brendan Perry _ who went their own ways in the 1990s _ abandoned their solo projects to tour together for the first time in almost a decade. The greatest-hits compilation "Memento" was released to capitalize on the occasion, introducing (or reintroducing) the evocative DCD sound.
What would come next? New DCD material from the studio, or at least a live release to commemorate the reunion? Instead, how about 4AD's re-release of the 2003 greatest-hits collection "Wake"? This compilation might be a fine way to exploit fans who didn't come on board until last year _ it offers 26 songs on two discs vs. "Memento's" 15 songs on one _ but otherwise, it's simply superfluous.
Make no mistake, Dead Can Dance is phenomenal, as "Wake" proves. Perry is a peculiar, Sinatra-like crooner who anchors the striking music with humanity on his share of songs, including the sprawling epics "In the Kingdom of the Blind the One-Eyed Are Kings" and "How Fortunate the Man With None." Gerrard is an even odder singer with an otherworldly range and a disquieting ability to command emotions with her wordless vocals, as evidenced on the tracks "Sanvean" and "Yulunga." Together and apart, the two spearhead a magical sound fashioned out of raw percussion, exotic instruments and electronica.
Also, "Wake" is an improvement on "Memento," offering a more balanced presence of the two performers ("Memento" favored Perry), and folding in a few exquisite tracks missing on "Memento," including the mesmerizing "Bird" constructed out of avian calls, organic cadence and angelic chants, the twisting instrumental "Saltarello" and the richly rhythmic "Rakim" that makes gorgeous use of both Gerrard's and Perry's vocals.
So yeah, "Wake" is great and Dead Can Dance is superb and all that. But let this be the last we hear from them unless they come up with something new.
Rating: 4
"NO CERTAIN NIGHT OR MORNING," Home Video (Defend Music)
Naturally an act that calls itself Home Video and features a former film student is going to have a cinematic sound.
To pin it down further, listening to the duo's "No Certain Night or Morning" might be parallel to watching a David Lynch movie: You aren't sure what you just experienced or if you even liked it, but you were absorbed while it lasted.
The Brooklyn-based team of Collin Ruffino (the former film student) and David Gross crafts a familiar electronic-oriented atmosphere for "No Certain Night or Morning."
Their emotionally distant music is danceable in a too-cool-for-you way recalling New Order as much as anyone, but also referencing other 1980s stalwarts like The Cure and Depeche Mode _ even '80s-era Genesis comes to mind during the pop-ish "Penguin," where Ruffino sings, "I'm getting stupid sitting here waiting for the light to change, shadows rearrange."
Yet it would be a discredit to Home Video to dismiss the duo as merely another retro-electro act; "No Certain Night or Morning's" production has a modernistic feel, creating something more timeless than nostalgic.
The release gets most of its drama from its beats. Ruffino's detached vocals are often little more than drones as he keeps his delivery confined to a monochromatic range. Sometimes he dives so deep into the icy mix that his voice seems to become an extra synthetic layer _ as on "Pidpunk," where he hangs up on the mantra "You will listen, you will listen, you will listen" against a "Halloween'-esque flicker, and on "That You Might," where he expands his notes to float alongside a cosmic electronic overlay.
On the tracks where the rhythm is likewise subtle, there's a vague emptiness equivalent to the mind going blank for the duration of the song.
But usually "No Certain Night or Morning" has a sweaty, primal groove - naturalistic beats setting off the dusky ambience of opener "Sleep Sweet," bone-rattling bass and propulsive cadence stimulating "Superluminal," urgent percussion adding nervous tension to the somber "Melon" ...
Home Video also has the guts to go on a rockish journey through the buzzing "Confession (of a Time Traveler)," but even then, the duo projects remote wistfulness.
Rating: 3-1/2
