Daily Staff Writer

‘Stiff Upper Lip’

AC/DC

Just when it seems that rock ‘n’ roll music has taken yet another innovative turn off the highway of rock, music legends AC/DC crank the wheel back, struggling to maintain their course towards good old-fashioned riffdom.

With the release of the band’s 17th album, “Stiff Upper Lip,” comes another lesson in the old-school style taught by the dueling guitar brothers, Angus Young on lead and Malcolm Young keeping the rhythm.

Lead singer Brian Johnson’s soprano voice, backed by bassist Cliff Williams and drummer Phil Rudd, completes the band, which has been together now for over 20 years.

Despite their age, creaking joints and failing livers don’t prevent these Australian dynamos from keeping rock ‘n’ roll alive and well in the 21st century.

The catchy riffs and sing-along chorus of the title track and first single, capture the band’s essence and appeals to what its fans are used to. Even so, the band also explores rock’s roots, producing a number of blues-influenced songs.

“Meltdown” rolls forth with a firm blues foundation as it builds in energy before a Black Sabbath-like closing.

With its blues shuffle, “Can’t Stand Still” is another gem. Supposedly the band did the song in one take, and delighted applause by the guys can be heard in the silence at the end of the song.

Other noteworthy tunes include “Satellite Blues” and “Come And Get It,” but while these songs have an original atmosphere about them, the band also seems to be stuck in a rut on others.

Repetitive choruses and predictable riffs seem to plague the album at times. Consider “Hold Me Back” with its main riff similar to 1995’s “Thunderstruck” off of “The Razor’s Edge.” Although this song is a little slower paced than “Thunderstruck” and sonically more filled out, the main riff fails to travel very far. What holds this song together are the chaotic guitar fills from Angus Young.

Unfortunately, by the end of this album, the repetitive choruses become too much to handle, suggesting a lack of lyrical vision on the band’s part. But then again, this is what the fans seem to want.

It’s only natural then, that from the opening grind of the title track to the final ring of guitars on “Give It Up,” this album stomps forth in typical AC/DC fashion, proving that while the band may be caught up in the doldrums of riff-rock, it still holds its own as prolific and influential rock icons.

3 Stars

— Kevin Hosbond

‘Brassic Beats USA’

Various Artists

The groove-laden humps and bumps of dance floor bliss have never been as strategically classified than “Brassic Beats.”

The label that brought supersonic acts like Fatboy Slim and Lo Fidelity Allstars introduces a musical collage of hip-hop funksters.

Just like turntables and breakbeats are again entering into popularity, Skint has assembled some of the industries’ finest low-budget DJs to the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed public. Stabbing drums and infectious rhythms drive every song with head-bobbing momentum.

The Lo Fidelity Allstars chill out the party directly with “Puppy Phat Number One.” The torch is quickly passed to Midfield General (also Skint’s president) whose rich hip-hop bass line will flavor any smoke-filled club.

In the fashion of neo-funksters Daft Punk, the Space Raiders bust out the disco collection with “(I Need The) Disko Doktor,” giving the dance floor enough hand-clapping fuel to hype any party. And Dr. Bone gives off an electrically charged salad-bar of jiving goodness with “I Came Here to Get Ripped.”

Fatboy Slim transforms a country line-dance riff to address his public as the reigning lord of high-speed human combustion. “Sho Nuff” is as packed full of catchy rhythms as “The Rockafeller Skank.”

If you’ve always wondered what’s behind white-boy hip-hop and where you can softly introduce yourself to bouncing drum and bass, check out anything on the Skint record label. “Brassic Beats” is the best compilation of dance and chill-out beats that you can hope to find.

3 Stars

— Ryan Rogness

‘Naked Self’

The The

“The The? Well, I thought they were dead.”

How many times have you thought one of your favorite bands was dead only to find out nearly five years after their last album was released that they still have something to offer.

The The have never ripped the charts apart in the United States with their style of dark, sensitive, noisy artistry, but they have been, in their time, a fundamental cornerstone of the alternative scene in the same style and ranks as The Cure, Echo and the Bunnymen and The Smiths.

In many ways, The The is the English version of Nine Inch Nails. It is not a band but the construction of one man’s vision of what a band should be. The man in the case of The The is Matt Johnson. It is his dark vision that drives this make-believe band across the years — and successfully, at that.

Listening to “Naked Self” is like taking a warm bath in a candlelit room listening to light radio tunes when the radio falls in the tub with you.

Half of the tracks on this album oscillate wildly with frenetic noir energy, a buzz saw distortion effect on every pedal. The other half cleanse the palate with an almost relaxing, new age appeal.

Not that this album could just as easily been produced by Yanni. On the contrary, “Naked Self” is far too full of bestial rudeness to genre hop like that.

This is old-school 1980s alternative rock that has managed to survive the passage of time to evolve into a well-adapted creature at the top of the food chain.

These songs are part of a whole. A dark opera of angst and despair with none of the goth cheesiness and prancing around in capes and makeup.

One track blends seamlessly into the next lending its energy and power until crescendo.

But if you really want to know which track is the killer single, that would have to be “December Sunlight.” It uses the same tension as the other tracks as a staging platform for the chorus that is pure release.

Other than that, this is one work that stands as a whole — inseparable parts unified like Gilbert and Sullivan at the methadone clinic.

4 Stars

— Greg Jerrett

‘Just No Other Way’

Coco Lee

The first line of Coco Lee’s “Just No Other Way” sums up this album perfectly: “Uh-oh, Coco.”

“Just No Other Way” is wall-to-wall uninspired hip-hop. It sounds like the soundtrack to a USA movie from the 1980s about a girl with a dream to become a famous nightclub singer. During the day she works as a waitress or a cab driver and at night she comes to life on stage.

Her boyfriend is hooked on the smack and she has a precocious 5-year-old to take care of but with the help of her tough old mama, she gets by long enough to be discovered by a record producer who is blown away by her “unique” sound.

But the people who made this movie couldn’t afford really good music so they got Coco Lee to rip out some standard nonsense about “gettin’ sweaty” and “tell me that you love me.”

The best thing one can say about “Just No Other Way” is that the monotonous thumping is so constant that the woman deserves an award for putting the most identical songs on the same album.

Her singing is highly competent. If she had something to actually say or a new way of saying things that have been said many times before, this album might actually have something worthwhile.

But the industry is filled with highly competent singers who seem to be able to wrap their vocal cords around a decent R&B croon. It just takes a bit more these days to bump things up to the next level.

There is nothing so bad about this album to make it a complete waste of time, however, there is nothing distinguishing about it. Coco’s voice could be that of any number of Whitney wannabes.

The music has all of the soul and depth of a Casio keyboard set on “slow rock beats” and the lyrics are as inspiring and deep as a made-for-TV movie on the Disney Channel.

Don’t do it! Beware! Run away!

2 Stars

— Greg Jerrett