MUSIC:

PHISH BAITPHISH BAITPhish phlounders on their phipth ephort But with the pressing of its latest album, Hoist, Elektra Records decided to move the band from dorm room obscurity to major label prominence. The band has staged its own video, pulled full rotation honors on alternative radio and appeared on that loveable creation of the modern promoter -- Rockline. Even Phish's homespun newsletter, once sloppily printed on recycled paper, was revamped into a glossy four-color brochure. Obscurity hovers no longer. But at what cost? While Hoist contains some quality tracks -- mainly the single "Down With Disease" and the concert favorite "Sample in a Jar," most of the album will leave the long-time listener limp. As if following some special formula, the band completes its allotted number of lick-centered sing-a-longs, obligatory country tunes and one weird, distortion-pedal grotesque. The music is tolerable, but it lacks the inspiration or creativity of seminal albums like Lawn Boy or Picture of Nectar. Accordingly, Hoist might give the first-time listener a distorted impression of the band's strengths. From the album's start, the band is reticent to embark on any of its notoriously stimulating improvisational rock. Instead, the four members -- guitarist and lead vocalist Trey Anastasio, drummer Jon Fishman, bassist Mike Gordon and pianist Page McConnell -- shape songs more atune to easy listening than anything else. They showcase Anastasio's plaintive side but leave the long-time aficionado waiting for that one great jam. This transition -- from goofy Vermont cover band to serious songwriters -- might not be out of line for Phish. The members have been playing together for a decade and they are hardly getting any younger. In that, Hoist represents a maturation in both material and personnel. What emerges is an album dealing with alienation and ostracism, the feelings of, surprise, a band once caught on the outside --Enote song titles "Dog-Faced Boy" and "Scent of a Mule." But one can't help but yearn for the inspirational and driving force of previous songs like "Antelope." In Hoist, Anastasio's once-grinding guitar is superseded by syrupy ballad-work. The musical and conceptual innovation which characterized their previous album, Rift, is lost among this seemingly New Age veneer. While some might label Hoist as the grisly remains of a formerly great band, the album simply expresses another side of this multifaceted outfit. For those who know Phish, Hoist will most likely be a quiet addition to the band's expanding catalog of concert and album prowess. But if Hoist's expanding marketing effort yields a new crop of listeners, the band might be construed as a cheezy, soft-spoken pop unit. Those who have grown with the band will argue that while Hoist might be subpar, Phish should not be discounted entirely. These guys can play, and if Hoist turns off potential fans, it's only the loss of a record company that failed to recognize Phish's potential earlier. -Dennis Berman REVENGE OF THE NERDS The Proclaimers produce a solid follow-up to their hit single Sunshine on Leith, the Proclaimers' second album, was already four years old when "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" became the theme song for the movie Benny and Joon. The re-released single had almost a million people trying to sing with a Scottish accent and wondering what kind of follow-up the Proclaimers would produce. Hit the Highway, the Proclaimers' latest effort, is a curiosity among modern releases. Heavily influenced by blues and soul, the music is almost a throw-back to '60s pop. The Proclaimers (who are lead by Edinburgh twins Craig and Charlie Reid) don't stray far from the signature style introduced by their first album This is the Story and reinforced on Leith. With its jangling rhythm guitar and rockabilly solos, Hit the Highway is hardly innovative. Distancing themselves from their contemporaries, the Proclaimers' lyrics center on family values, hard work, and Christianity. Lines such as "I need to toil 'cause it's good for my soul," would sound strange coming from the mouths of Michael Stipe or Beck. However, Hit the Highway is none the worse for its traditionalism and lack of innovation. The bespectacled brothers Reid have produced an honest and energetic album that often borders on the banal but never quite crosses the line. On Hit the Highway, the Proclaimers all but beg the comparison to fellow Celtic crooner Van Morrison. Their themes of faith and optimism are preceded by similar motifs in the poetry of the Irish elder statesman. Musically, the Proclaimers' brand of funky rock 'n' roll with Scottish folk overtones also shares some common ground with typical Van. The saxophone arrangements, which are used plentifully on Highway, could have been taken from such Morrison classics as "Domino" or "Into the Mystic." One trait that the Proclaimers do not share, however, is Van Morrison's infamous stage fright. The Proclaimers have gained a reputation as an exceptional live band and they defend that reputation on Hit the Highway. The album has a very live feel to it and one gets the sense that the songs were meant to be heard in a Scottish tavern rather than on a stereo. The Reid brothers' vocal performance is the highlight of Hit the Highway. The title track, for example, is a standout that substitutes percussive doo-wop vocals for rhythm guitar, producing a very funky, grooving sound. On their remake of the 40-year-old soul tune "I Want to Be A Christian," the Proclaimers capture all the spiritual fervor of a Carolina Baptist church on a sweaty Sunday afternoon. Throughout the album, the twins continue their characteristic harmonies and bluesy call-and-response vocals. Lyrically, the Proclaimers manage to maintain an intriguing tension. They deliver admittedly traditionalist words such as "Lord, I want to love everybody in my heart," with sincerity and passion. The Proclaimers avoid sounding preachy by tempering their message of faithful optimism with allusions to drinking, marital tiffs, and other such mundane matters. Similarly, Highway is populated with sentimental lyrics that just miss being soppy. "Your Childhood" is a song written by Craig Reid for his three-year-old daughter. In it, he sings, "You're a beautiful little girl/You'll break boys hearts all over this world/And one day you'll walk out the door/And I know you'll break mine." The Reids deliver the lyrics with a heart-felt honesty that tends to excuse the high potential for triteness. Even so, one can't help but wonder how interesting the Proclaimers would be at all if it weren't for their Scottish accents. Overall, Hit the Highway is a fun and listenable album. Unfortunately, however, none of the songs have the hit potential of "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)." And unless Mary Stuart Masterson has another movie in the works, the Proclaimers may have to be satisfied with one #3 single, a great live act, and a well-constructed, if not ground-breaking, new album. -Anthony Pryor FOREVER HIP Charlotte kick back from Manchester sound At the time, Manchester Stadium was full. Full of enough boldness and novelty, pouty lips and record producers to persuade everybody to raise their arms and do the wave for the new flavor of British pop. In teams of four or five, bands created catchy swirls of air and melody. They were all good, young and arrogant, and considering they even had the haircuts of their Fab Four predecessors, no one was captious enough to distinguish one band from another. It all came happily flowing in to the record stores. It wasn't too long before the championship was over. With the movement's fast demise, baggy pop bands found themselves scrambling for a direction and for a unique appeal. The creation of every supposedly new song called for rethinking the team. The Charlatans got to it, planning out stereo field strategy like halftime gameplan. On their second album, Between 10th and 11th, they put the jangly guitar away in the outfield bringing in more techno oriented keyboards for the attack. It worked, and they relegated their mates from Inspiral Carpets and the New Fast Automatic Daffodils to second division. Their third album, Up to Our Hips is clearly the result of more rearranging for the team, with every player trying out new tricks. The rhythm section and guitar have come alive and Tim Burgess's voice often flies without the flurry of harmonies that used to accompany it. The Charlatans even try themselves at more simple, acoustic constructions ("Autograph") and generally propose a less driven, more carefully layered, shelf of sound than before. This season, for lack of any opponents to measure up to or any movement to break new ground with, it seems that the only solution is to look back. Although the climbs of the Hammond organ had always given a '60s tinge to their music, the songs on Up to Our Hips are distinctively full of retro flair. Either the Charlatans have been up late watching Shaft or they took the same "Rediscover the '70s" evening class as the Beastie Boys. Unfortunately, except on the first single, "Can't Get Out of Bed," the strengths of the Charlatans style seem to slip through their fingers. The novelty and experimentation certainly allows for a more varicolored album. Nevertheless, the refined production, with enough backwards guitars to make the Stone Roses dizzy and many an intro yearning for the appearance of Chips' Poncherello and Baker, dazzles only for the first few songs. The band, too thrilled by the brightness of new uniforms, fail to bring the work together for a common goal. Everybody wants to get his own thing in, even fighting it out in a six minute instrumental. The Charlatans aren't too sure where to go, often altering team tactics even within the same song: they clumsily forgo a languid beginning for a more typical, and more moving billow of sound, as if in a fit of homesickness. The appealing melodic concentrations of previous albums have yielded to never-ending wandering solos and most songs have lengthy fade-outs, forgetting to end. To complete the meandering, Burgess has psychedelic lyrics to match: "Getting out of the bad times baby/Moving into the light, you've got to see me land on the sun." But over more disjointed and imprecise music, even his prominent voice sometimes falls flat. Where the Beastie Boys might take off into a well-synchronized lyrical frenzy, Tim Burgess runs out of bounds with his high pitched breeze, realizing no one is playing along with him. When Burgess says "I never want an easy life," one has to believe him. Up to Our Hips is full of novelty and effort, but it's not so clear whether there is any progression. Once again, the Charlatans put in a solid play but with no assurance that they won't soon run out of formulas. It is uncertain, though, whether they'll make it to over-time. -Andrew Wanliss-Orlebar PHILBERTS In the name of science, our delightfully dubious music critics spent the weekend in London experimenting with RU-486, the French-manufactured abortion drug. That's right, thanks to a new Parliamentary law allowing foreign citizens to partake in this wYnder-drug on English soil, our own Philberts were able to dash abroad to give us first-hand test results. How did the new pill fare? According to one Philbert, "it gave me the shits somethin' awful. I'm stickin' with smack." 'Nuff said, boys. No word yet on side effects, but we do know that the Philberts were last seen on Milton Street entering a low priced bordello, hot on the heels of Sting (and entourage). Remember, five Philberts is like a fiery evening of narcotic-induced bacchanalia, one Philbert is like a solitary evening at home, smoking cat nip and listening to Hall & Oates. Alison Moyet Essex Ex-Yaz artist Alison Moyet offers a pleasant change to today's alternative world with Essex. Reverting to her previous group's new wave sound, Moyet frequently combines synthesizer with mellow vocals. At times, however, Moyet incorporates a powerful guitar and exhibits a sound quite similar to that of the Indigo Girls. Such songs as "Falling" and "Dorothy" are sure-fire future WDRE hits. --Jeffrey Mosler (3 1/2 Philberts) Texas Ricks Road Texas combines a light acoustic guitar, an occasional heavy riff, and a country influence into a refreshing, progressive sound. Unfortunately, the lyricist was recently jilted and thought 12 songs about how lonely he is would help him get in touch with his true feelings. This band should relegate its writer to group therapy where people get paid to listen to banal subjects. If Texas had someone with a little social insight, then Ricks Road would be an album worth buying. --Marc Teillon (2 Philberts) Cell Living Room After a few listens, Cell falls into the homogenized vanilla milk-shake mediocrity of an (oxymoronic) mainstream alternative band. Living Room's hot guitar licks and drum fills are inspired, though its last three tracks have "Excedrin" written all over them. At least Hoboken, N.J. now has a grunge scene. --Joe Stevens (2 1/2 Philberts)

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