Daily Staff Writer

“Humming”

Duncan Sheik

Duncan Sheik’s second release on Atlantic records doesn’t stray far from his self-titled 1996 debut, which included the omnipresent hit “Barely Breathing.”

“Humming” couldn’t be more fitting of a title for the album. All of the tracks are lushly orchestrated complimentary of The London Session Orchestra and could easily lull tired children to sleep.

The tranquilizing effect of Sheik’s music isn’t a bad thing; it brings out sensitivity in a man.

Though the music sounds romantic, the lyrical content leans more toward realism than idealism. He calls things like he sees them without powdered sugar, but he does it in a self-effacing way.

There are also a lot of Latin influences on the album which are due to the album being partly recorded in Spain. Opening track “In Between” features Sheik playing classical guitar and piano, among other instruments.

“Bite Your Tongue” is the song most likely to receive radio airplay, and it’s also the heaviest track on the album. Heavy is a relative term here. “Tongue” is heavy for Sheik, the balladeer.

In a nutshell, the song’s underlying message is “No one ever said life was going to be fair.” It is a call for the world’s complainers to harness their tongues because he’s tired of hearing them whine about how bad they have it.

“That Says It All” is a clich‚ song that deals with wanting what we can never get. It compiles the ideology of various rock pioneers. Sheik quotes Mick Jagger (“Mr. Jagger said it best/He knows you’ll never get no satisfaction”), Bob Dylan (“But Mr. Dylan knows/That everyone is more or less a rolling stone”) and Brian Wilson who “took some pills/ And I don’t blame him.”

In “Everyone, Everywhere,” Sheik shares his religious views with listeners, and it could possibly be the theme song of a neo-transcendental movement. Deepest wisdom, he sings, can be found at the heart of everyone.

“A Body Goes Down” is a soothing tribute to the late singer/songwriter Jeff Buckley who drowned in the Mississippi River last year.

By far the best song of the album is an unnamed hidden track.

The eight-minute track commences with a heartbeat-like rhythm and Sheik singing about someone making a midnight confession to his significant other who’s on the verge of slumber.

The song, similar to a Dave Matthews ballad, makes you want to cling to your lover with reckless abandon and forget for a moment about what’s to come.

Sheik’s sophomore outing hums, even though it’s not a new tune.

3 1/2 stars out of five

— Jason Young

“Songs From the Pipe”

The Surfers

In the beginning, all was dark. And the Lord spoke: “Let there be light.” And there was light. The Lord looked upon this light, and He knew that it was good … but not half as good as “Songs From the Pipe” by The Surfers.

Jimi Hendrix once said, “You will never hear surf music again.” Of course, Jimi had no idea that after nearly 30 years, surf music could have more in common with his own psychedelic stylings than it does with the Beach Boys or Dick Dale.

The band is made up of professional surfers Kelly Slater and Rob Machado and “MTV Sports” commentator Peter King. These three long-time friends would often fill the hours on the road making their own unique surf-inspired tunes. They played for friends, fun and in bars until their recent discovery landed them on Epic with T Bone Burnett for a producer.

“Songs From the Pipe” is 11 tracks combined in one atmospheric soundtrack, which could easily play behind some MTV real-world documentary on surfers.

This is not your father’s surf music. There is no hint of the Beach Boys falsetto crooning about chicks and cars. There are also no lightning- fast Dick Dale-style guitar solos running up and down the scales to imbue it with unbridled youthful energy and the feeling of actually being in the pipe.

Not that this album isn’t filled with its own noir energy. “Australia” opens the album pleasantly enough. You can almost see the beach and smell the salt air as this instrumental sets the stage softly.

From there, The Surfers go into “Never,” which sounds more like countrified adult contemporary than new age surf music. It does have a lyrical hook which digs in under the skin like a leech … but in a good way, not like Hootie and the Blowfish.

“If” turns out the lights and gets all scary on your ass. The tune has a demented, little, evil Christmas carol glockenspiel feel which fuses nicely with the powerful guitar chords, while the singer goes on about his father ignoring him, sounding like Lou Reed meets Tim Burton.

“Cause It’s Me” brings us back to the light. It is much more plaintive, melancholy and relaxed.

If you are looking for a surf album which is light on the cowabunga to get mellow to, this one will have you packing for the coast or planning your spring break in Australia.

4 stars out of five

— Greg Jerrett

“Between the Days”

Merril Bainbridge

When Merril Bainbridge released the song “Mouth” off her debut “Garden” CD in 1996, pop music listeners loved her. Reviews dubbed her the “anti-Alanis Morissette” — someone whose songs were happy and fun instead of angst-ridden.

Unfortunately, Bainbridge took a step in the angst-ridden direction on her sophomore CD, “Between the Days.”

From “Goodbye to Day” to “Love and Terror,” the songs on “Between the Days” are reminiscent of some junior high school girl’s attempt at reflective poetry. The lyrics, while trying to convey some sort of deep emotion, end up meaning nothing and sounding cheesy. They’re like Jewel gone terribly wrong.

“Mouth,” Bainbridge’s breakthrough hit, was silly in a fun, playful and assertive way.

“Between the Days” is silly in an absurd, confusing and pseudo-poetic way. Fun is much better.

The first song and title track sets the tone for the CD. The lyrics don’t really make any sense, the music is a strange blend of guitar and techno, but Bainbridge still tries to pull it off with the same quirky, annoying voice of “Mouth.”

On “Between the Days,” as with the rest of the CD, the songs would be better without the words (and the singing).

Two songs, “When You Call My Name” and “Big Machine,” have some potential. The lyrics are silly but not stupid, and the songs have a little more organization.

But by the time you get to these songs, at the very end of the CD, you’ll be so tired of listening to drivel you won’t care — drivel such as “I’d give the world to buy the words just to hear your voice again.” Huh?

“Between the Days” is just too much like lovesick notes passed during study hall to be very good.

2 stars out of five

— Sara Ziegler

“Let Them Eat Pussy”

Nashville Pussy

Trash metal again rears its ugly presence in the form of the male/female foursome from hell, Nashville Pussy.

Joining the ranks of the Ass Ponys and the Revolting Cocks, this band proves once again that you have to live off more than just a dirty name to be a catchy songwriter.

The clash between guitar-driven sucker rock and wailing screams achieves a Jackyl-type obscenity-shouting, in-your-face sound. The fast-paced monotonous drum beat holds a flimsy backbone to the freakish high-pitched vocals of Blaine Cartwright song after song.

With an average track length of about two minutes, Nashville Pussy tries to punch you in the face and run away as fast as it can, only to churn out another song.

However, the album surfaces long enough for some songs to make an impact. The immature power chords that lie within “I’m the Man” and “5 Minutes to Live” can’t help but beg for recognition, mostly due in part to AC/DC and Motorhead-type bass lines.

Female lead guitarist/stripper Ruyter Suys also contributes an interesting set of strings to the midsection of each song that most guitar enthusiasts will recognize as talented finger work.

Fans of redneck rock ‘n’ roll might be amused by the contorted tunes of Nashville Pussy. But seeking anything more than pure entertainment from this band is about as amusing as the portrayal of oral sex on the album cover.

1 star out of five

— Ryan Rogness

“The Ponzi Scheme”

Firewater

Classic spy movies and Eastern Europe may be an odd combination, but that’s exactly what is found on Firewater’s “The Ponzi Scheme.”

The band puts out an incredibly unique sound that is reminiscent of many bands but truly sounds like no other.

There are strains that sound like Social Distortion, vocals that sound like Kurt Cobain (if he didn’t mumble) and even a little ’80s hair band influence thrown in for good measure.

A line from the track “Dropping Like Flies” touches upon this issue when it says “And every word/ That passes from your lips/ Is counterfeit/ Yeah, illegitimate.”

As the album plays, the listener is given a sense of the extreme moodiness and disinterest of frontman and bassist Tod Ashley. He swings from a beautiful, yet tacky, ballad called “I Still Love You, Judas,” into an alcoholic take on the gospel, “Knock ‘Em Down.”

However, the real element that sets this album apart is diverse tracks like “Ponzi’s Theme,” which would make perfect soundtrack music for a James Bond flick, and “El Borracho,” a consummate Russian-sounding barroom tune.

This is not an album for hard-core Christians, manic-depressives or small children.

3 stars out of five

— Justin Purdy