Let Us Now Praise Crazy Bitches

[painting of Julie Christmas by myspace.com/allthethingsiveneversed]

Brooklyn's Made Out of Babies (myspace) were responsible for one of my favorite records of 2006.  Coward was necessary, desperate music.  Someone had backed it into a corner, done bad things to it.  For forty minutes it lashed out, punching the air, screaming into a pillow, mouthing unspeakables.

At its best, Coward's power came from the singular, fractured performance of singer Julie Christmas.  Unsettling flashes of dark illumination strobed with savage cries for help, an ongoing display of extremes that was less over the top than over the edge.  Christmas gave the sound a source, the band a viewpoint.

It can't be fun playing crazy all the time.  MOoB's new record, The Ruiner (released late last month, skirting "Christmas in July" critical hackery...  oops), backs out from their singer's insides.  It feels less first person than third, less victim than aggressor, less insightful automatic writing than forced descriptors.  Less compulsion, more calculation.  The album's more interesting musically - there's still lots to like, here - but the lack of an engaging empathy makes it less interesting overall.

Made Out of Babies - Invisible Ink (mp3) (buy)

Pretty stuff, I think there's a bit of King Crimson's "Red" sloshing about in there.  "And crawling on the floor has never been less fun" is a great line, but wry ennui can be bought anywhere these days.  Contrast this with the menace of Coward's first track, "Silverback," where "...at first it's all in fun."

"Silverback" kicks off that record with nothing more articulate than a series of unarticulated wails.  The Ruiner also opens propulsively, with "Cooker" yelling, "Run, run for your life."  "Peew" suggests that "If you believe in such things then start praying."  I'm not sure whether we're being threatened or warned.  "The Stranger," one of this album's best tracks, is another sick, shrugged assault:  "There's nothing that they can do to her that hasn't been done before - but it's worth a try."

Coward wasn't all damaged, insides-out stuff, but such material and attitude gave the work a direction and its urgency.  I don't know why Christmas has shifted away from that; she might be a different person, now, or might be tired of that aspect of herself.  I hope not, and I hope she's as much a ramshackle presence on stage as she was when I saw her last.  (I've missed too many performances by this band; their next local appearance, according to their myspace, is August 12th at Southpaw.)  It's not that I'm calling to reinforce some woman-as-victim role; it's just rare to find someone who can so angrily, strongly communicate a more interesting off-center view.

There's plenty for her to do on Ruiner.  There's some lovely singing, creepy whispering, plenty of screaming.  But not enough of it feels like it needed to be done.  The screams here feel like they're for volume.

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And yes, the album cover must have been shot near the Ola Podrida and Interpol exhibits.

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I would very much like to hear the full version of the take on the Jacques Brel/Rod McKuen chestnut that's been running on Christmas' myspace.  Yummy.

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I've obviously been reading all the wrong music info sources as I'd had no idea Maria McKee (myspace) released new material last year.  McKee's  splintered 1996 disc Life is Sweet (out of print, apparently, but available used for cheap) is one of my favorite records of all time.  Late December might be her best since then.

Sweet shocked.  Big-voiced gal from an alt-country band who dabbled in blue-eyed soul rocked out and cracked up, serenading her multiple personalities, licking wounds like they were popsicles.  It was a career-defining record, though that's not an easy clock to punch.  She fell off the map.  When she reemerged in 2003, her new material came buried under overcalculated bombast; two years later she erred toward deceptively simple singer/songwriter goods.  (I rambled on way back here.)

December gives equal time to all her urges.  It's got something to make everyone unhappy.  So, yeah, it's pretty great.  The singer's settled into a self-accepted eccentricity, she no longer needs to prove herself through self-immolation.  It's okay to have her over for tea without hiding the sharp things.

But because McKee fucks around in Adult Contemporary-friendly sounds, it still feels dangerous.  Her vocal delivery is pure whim.  She starts rapping on the first track.  The theatricality ranges from bored to Broadway to Bowie. 

Maria McKee - Destine (mp3) (buy)

"Nyah nyah nyah nyah."  This is the most Sweet-like offering - parts of its melody sound awfully familiar, and its mysterious friend could be a less-threatening variation on the Other from "Absolutely Barking Stars."  It's okay to hate the song for a while.  Stagey, right?  Only, ultimately, it ain't:  The overaggressive backing chorus keeps shoving at the lead until she runs herself right off the rails.

"No Other Way to Love You" jumps an octave and starts wailing like it's a Heart ballad.  "Scene of the Affair" comes off like a freeform rock opera.  It only takes the first minute-forty of "One Eye on the Sky (One on the Grave"  to get from the Age of Aquarius to the Age of Oprah, layovers in Detroit and Memphis.

There are opportunities to get settled.  "A Good Heart" offers Springsteen-seated comfort (though it indulges in a synthy harpsichordish solo). "Too Many Heroes" has a softened Diddley boogie, some twang.  Don't drop your guard, though.  Sometimes she's at her most cutting when she serves things up straight.

Maria McKee -  Power On, Little Star (mp3) (buy)

That's an inspirational song, and I've no doubt it's offered as an honest one.  Would be easy to cite it as a parody of the form.  That insulting keyboard twinkle!  The sunny humming that underscores stuff like, "a heart that will be slashed, and your dreams that will be dashed."  "Little Star" wallows in failure, chugs down the bitter.  "If you only make it one more day, well it's one more day you threw away."  But because of its source, because of the earned insistence of her life, because of her sense of humor, McKee gives lift to anyone who's found "Wind Beneath My Wings" nothing more than a wet fart.

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I've had a new mix to throw up for almost a week, now -- nothing crazy, a bit odd maybe -- but muxtape has gone back to being nonfunctional, rejecting 2/3rds of the tracks I've tried to upload.  Not of note, I guess... but a shame as I had longer-term plans for something there.  Oh, well.  Sometimes you really do get what you pay for.

tags: maria mckee  made out of babies  

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