JANUARY/FEBRUARY 2012 ISSUE MMUSICMAG.COM REVIEWS HOLE ONobody’sF MONTREAL Daughter [Universal] Paralytic Stalks [Polyvinyl] The first album released under the Hole moniker since 1998’s Celebrity Skin is really frontwoman Courtney Love’sFor a guy so down on humanity and obsessed with his own psychological second solo album—co-founder,flaws—bitterness, egotism, trouble loving and being loved—Kevin Barnes songwriter and lead guitarist Eric Erlandson isn’t involved,sure makes life-affirming music. The Of Montreal mastermind has long nor is any other previous Hole member. So it’s Love andused three psychedelic rock and funk as vehicles for self-analysis. On the ringers on 11 new songs—10 of which Love wrotegroup’s with 11th album he goes spelunking deep into his soul, dredging up collaborators like Billy Corgan,his darkest Linda Perryimpulses and new and subjecting them to his music’s neon glow. All guitarist Micko Larkin. (Perry gets full credit on one tune, “Letter to God.”) the while he keeps things funky, although not in the hyperactive style of Much of the riveting intensity of the group’s 1990s heyday appears to havehis left last along couple with her of former discs. OnDaniel Jackson “Dour Percentage” and “We Will Commit bandmates, but there are fl ashes here of the snarling Too often, though, the slower songs trip her up. While once fury Love deployed to suchWolf devastating Murder” effect he backimagines in the day. Parade-era they were showcasesPrince jamming for harrowing with displays Marc of Bolannaked emotion, or She spits out her vocals Davidwith vengeful Bowie, disdain and on “Skinnythe collision Little Love of outsidersounds more R&B dispassionate and fantastical these days. ’70s The production rock Bitch,” overdriven guitars roiling atop an elastic bassline that doesn’t help—the songs have an airless, sanded-down feel that speeds up as the song stopsraces toward either a climatic sound pile-up from at seizingthe doesn’t control. fi t with herBarnes visceral ispersona. less Courtneyrestrained Love’s in tumultuous the end. She shifts tempos and attitude on the more contemplative history suggests that she has a compelling story to tell, and “Pacifi c Coast Highway,”lyrical taking stock department, as layers of acousticbut references and perhaps to “quotidianshe does. It’s just characters” not the one she’s and telling “agnostic on Nobody’s electric guitars chug along behind her. Daughter. –Eric R. Danton transubstantiation” never sound like textbook babble. He’s brainy enough

COURT YARDfor HOUNDS academia, butA side belongs project in of fishnetsnew offering and suggested headbands. that its creator –Kenneth was a few stridesPartridge closer to Dixie Chicks’ Martie crafting something truly monumental in both musical and social terms. Court Yard Hounds Maguire and Emily This cold and private set isn’t it, although that’s probably due more to [Columbia] Robison, Court Yard personal circumstances than anything related to talent. Wainwright Hounds delivers wrote All Days Are Nights while his mother, Kate McGarrigle, was much-anticipated dying of cancer, and there is a quiet, complex sadness even in its insight—both musical and personal—into the sisters who have less autobiographical material. There’s nothing here except piano for so long ceded center stage to Chicks singer Natalie Maines. and vocal, and Wainwright doesn’t project his words in the way Though steeped in familiar instrumentation, the album offers little we’ve come to expect from him. Instead of serenading the person of the barn-burning brashness that made the Chicks famous (save in the farthest corner of a packed theater, he’s singing to himself in perhaps the gutsy “Ain’t No Son”). Instead, its delicate folk-pop an otherwise empty room. –David Styburski prettiness perfectly suits Robison’s more-than-capable voice and the jumble of emotions, sunny and melancholy, that emerge in a song Ozomatli’s music has been called a collision cycle inspired by her 2008 divorce. Maguire’s weeping fi ddle and OZOMATLI of styles, a cultural mash-up, and a 20-car seamless harmonies are welcome as always, and her one turn on pileup of genres. It’s also some of the most ‘Forlead vocals a (“Gracefully”) guy isso so warmly down affecting that listeneonrs mayhumanity, joyfully energetic music you’ll ever hear. On wish she stepped to the mic more often. Court Yard Hounds ably its fi fth album, the L.A.-based band stirs its demonstrates that, whether with their fellow Dixie Chick or without, blend of salsa, ska, samba, funk, and hip-hop these ladies’ talent runs deep. –Katie Dodd in ways few groups could conceive. Imagine Kevin Barnes sure makesFire Awaylife- tossing the English Beat, Herb Alpert and the For a dozen years, the [Mercer Street/Downtown] Tijuana Brass, Caetano Veloso, and Sly and RUFUS arrangements on Rufus the Family Stone into a magical blender and Wainwright’s albums got you get some sense of Ozomatli’s eclectic approach. High points WAINWRIGHTaffirmingbusier and hismusic.’ sometimes on their latest, Fire Away, include “Are You Ready?,” a horn-and- All Days Are Nights: Songs naughty, occasionally percussion-driven blast of salsa-fl avored ska; “Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah,” for Lulu angry declarations of gay an exultant Latin pop anthem fi tted with shrieking sax; and “Gay Vatos [Decca] pride got louder. Each in Love,” a rockabilly-tinged tune with a soaring chorus. Even when

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