“Enemies Like This.” Radio 4. I root for Radio 4 like I root for the Mets. They’re the home team (if you can call Williamsburg anyone’s home) and they deserve to win. I’m not sure that this is the record that will make them stars, however. The propulsive poly-percussion and Gang of Four-style slashing guitars are still there, but after the first four tracks it all starts to lose steam.
“Big Star, Small World.” Various. I’m utterly perplexed that power pop never conquered the world. Infectious pop sensibilities, crunchy guitars: something for everyone, no? Instead, it’s a weird little niche for freaks like me. The grand-daddy of all power pop groups, Big Star, were feted with a tribute record from the little pups who worship them. Released in 2006, goodness knows how long these tapes were sitting on the shelf, as half the bands on “Big Star, Small World” (the Gin Blossoms, Afghan Whigs, Whiskeytown and Posies) have since broken up, and two of them (the Posies and the Gin Blossoms) found time to reunite, too.
Unfortunately, all the bands here are too faithful to the source material, and thereby pale in comparison to Big Star’s slender, seminal work. The Posies eke slightly more desperation out of “What’s Going Ahn” and Wilco manages to find even more tender nuance in “Thirteen.” Otherwise, there’s nothing here that doesn’t make you want to spin your copy of “#1 Record/Radio City,” instead. The reunited “Big Star” (basically, Alex Chilton and drummer Jody Stephens, augmented by various Posies) contribute a weak track, “Hot Thing,” that sounds like an outtake from one of Chilton’s anemic solo R&B records. Stick with the classics.
“One Day It Will Please Us To Remember Even This.” New York Dolls.A reunion that doesn’t disappoint, the living Dolls (all two of them) might have put out the best rock-n-roll record of 2006. It’s all snarling guitars, sneering attitude and horny come-ons. The delightful “Runnin’ Around” starts off as an ode to feet before delving into more freakiness and something about flesh-colored panties. Elsewhere, David Johansen declares that happiness is “Fishnets & Cigarettes” and goes shopping in the red-light district in “Rainbow Store.”
Since the Dolls imploded in the 70’s, Johansen found success as a comic actor, and the influence shows. Not so much singing as growling off-key, for most of the record, Johansen employs a hoary Noo Yawk accent that Archie Bunker couldn’t get away with. “Exorcise yer demons with that monkey grin,” he sings on the witty Christian Fundy-tweaking “Dance Like a Monkey,” “Cuz we gonny inherit the wind!” Gonny? That’s probably his ballsiest move on this ballsy record.
“The Believer.” Rhett Miller. On his second solo record, Rhett Miller disappointingly displays little of the songwriting wit and rock bravado of his band Old 97’s. Either temporarily out of ideas or else in need of good collaborators, two of the three good tracks on this record are retreads of earlier Old 97’s tracks. “Question,” which was no more than Rhett and his guitar on the 97’s excellent “Satellite Rides,” is somehow schmaltzier here, which means that this is the version of the song that we are all doomed to here at every wedding we ever attend until the day we die. “Singular Girl,” previously an outtake from the same record, suffers from the lack of ragged edges that the band gave it.
The saving grace of “The Believer” is a duet with Rachel Yamagata on “Fireflies.” Miller’s songwriting prowess is in full force here, audaciously referencing lines from at least three of his most beloved songs and tying an awkward comparison of his lost love to his mother and the so-bad-it’s-good analogy “In a jar / Fireflies / Only last for one night” into a slow-burning song of heartbreak and regret. This is why I buy this guy’s records, and why I can’t wait until the next proper Old 97’s record.