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Toshi Kubota, Nothing But Your Love (Epic)
If you're a normal stereotyping jerk like me, your first instinct when you hear the phrase "Japanese R&B singer" is to cough impolitely. But Nothing But your Love, the second English language album by Toshi Kubota, has got the major funk on. On songs like "Sha-Ba-Da-Bu-Doo (Go with the Flow)" he is reminiscent of Stevie Wonder, though the Philosopher Kings keep popping into mind, especially on the smoothly aloof title track. Guests the Roots, Angie Stone, and Raphael Saadiq round out the album, adding hip hop and various other types of general hipness to the already oozing cool-o-rama. Somewhere in the middle of "Someday," an unapologetically slick ballad, your brain begins melting out of your ears. And when he breaks into falsetto, he brings back that old Stylistics glow.
Most R&B singers find themselves with the problem of sounding like glorified lounge acts. Nothing But Your Love manages to escape this trap, partially due to seasoned producers in the genre, and partially because Kubota slips into the sound so naturally, odd as it seems to anyone but a Japanese funkster. "I'm not your Chardonnay/Not your sushi bar/Nothing but your love," he sings on the title track – it sounds better than it reads – and allows us to spread out the analogy. Kubota is nothing but straight funky soul, and he croons it out just fine. "Never Turn Back," which features Pras ("Never turn the tide back baby/Gotta leave your frozen paradise/Turn away and never look back now"), may be one of the album's most playable tracks, but there isn't really a single miss throughout.
It's a sweet, aesthetically pleasing album. The man has a smooth voice, a clean sound. If you're into R&B, I'd recommend you add Kubota to your playlist, or if you just want a nice album to relax to into the evening, you should definitely pick up Nothing But Your Love. There's something to be said for having an open mind.
Note: Especially recommended for the ladies, or guys looking to make amorous advances.
Fuel, Something Like Human (550 Music)
Fuel's second album, Something Like Human has a little something for everyone, and a little of everyone in it. The CD's first single, "Hemorrhage," will do well, if not just because Vertical Horizon, Matchbox 20, and Creed do well. Because they have the same sort of catchy melodies, the same pop rock written for listeners who need the harder bass and drums but who aren't quite into heavier metal (this album was produced by Ben Grosse, who produced Vertical Horizon, and it shows). It's the type of heavy-ish, but not too heavy, rock that can get airplay on both Z100 and K-ROCK, depending on which particular single Fuel choose to release. For Z100, "Bad Day" is pure top-40 material, somewhere between Matchbox 20 and Toad the Wet Sprocket, with hooks that make you want to hear it again and again, if not just to get it out of your head.
"And she swears there's nothing wrong/I hear her playing that same old song/She puts me out and puts me on/...I've had a bad day again." Please God, make it stop. Make it...
Actually, "Bad Day" is a clever inclusion that makes the rest of the album seem much heavier, though the eleven other songs on Something Like Human are no less hooky. "Last Time" starts the album out with a kick in the neck, and lets the listener know that the album is certifiably programmed to sell (and sell it will). "Hemorrhage" has the smooth melodies and hopelessness that represent Fuel well; it rolls between slow harmonies and driving rock, garnering its own individual feel after a few good listens. Something Like Human does deserve at least a few good listens, and by then you won't really be able to stop. After a few years, however, the music may find itself dated in the way that a band like Def Leppard was prime rock in the '80s.
No, these girls are not the band, or else
we'd have 1000 copies on order. They
are the models on the band's CD cover. | |
Seventeen, Bikini Pie Fight (Xoff Records)
Yeah, no one's expecting a musical masterpiece that has entitled itself Bikini Pie Fight, and includes songs like the infamous "Porno Getaway," the illustrious "Big Gay Friend," and the gut-wrenching "Mountains, Literally Mountains, of Coke." It's not surprising, really, that the promos for Seventeen all make sure we're aware that two members of the band went to Harvard. (And there, I've played into their hands by letting you know as well. The clever bastards.) Unfortunately for them, the Yale-educated Weezer always pops into mind as the punk-pop prototype, and as much as I used to hate them, I now feel that they set the glowing standard for this type of band. To compare and contrast, Seventeen use the same dumb humor and the same toned-down sense of musicality, though they're quite a bit heavier and don't come across as "devil-may-care" as they really want to. They do their vocals dead straight (regardless of their often incoherent lyrics),
though their lack of complete silliness makes them less dismissible.
What Seventeen have put together is a somewhat incongruous album, an otherwise decent, original punk album wanting to be sillier than it is, though their reputedly "zany" live performances probably benefit the lyrical value of the songs a great deal. Otherwise, lines like "When I come to your door I'll leave my pants in the car, baby/I'm your pizza man, I got your pie/I'm keeping it hot" go to waste as "Fingerbang" heads into a hazy Zappa-inspired bridge. "Return to Disco Mountain" is one of those obnoxious tracks you play for your friends first to amuse them, then to piss them off. On the other hand, "It's All Good" is grungy garage rock at its best. "T-22" tops off the listed tracks with a sleazy conversation in French set to elevator music. And leave the CD playing for a bonus hidden track on the history of computers.
If you're going to buy the album for the sole reason of getting several pictures of three pie-covered models in bikinis, it's all according to plan. I'm sure Seventeen would be pleased. Clever Harvard bastards.
September 2000
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