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COVER STORY | IN THE NEWS | OFF THE PAVEMENT | ARTBEAT November 8, 2007
The Alchemist | The Black Lizard Big Book of Pulps | Ghostface Killah
The reality that any band immersed in a “retro” rock sound faces is that an inability to transcend novelty can result in them becoming a footnote in music history. After two releases of Black Sabbath/Pentagram-worshipping doom, Sweden’s Witchcraft was close to a point of stagnancy that could have stifled their career. However, what Witchcraft has accomplished with The Alchemist ensures that neither today’s music listener nor history will be able to ignore them. In an effort to maintain a puritan ’70s rock ethic, Witchcraft recorded without the assistance of digital technology. The analog effort is well appreciated as it results in warm and clear guitar tones, graceful drumming and a soulful vocal performance. One gets the sense that this is how the band would sound if they were to play in your living room. Witchcraft’s heaviness is not the result of down-tuned guitars and processed distortion, but expressive and purposeful songwriting that shames the efforts of bands that scream, flail and pummel their way through music. The Alchemist opens with “Walk Between the Lines,” which immediately sets the tone for the band’s new musical direction by infusing a haunting guitar melody into an almost poppy arrangement. “If Crimson Was Your Colour” incorporates psychedelic elements into the sound through the introduction of vintage keyboards, and serves to highlight Magnus Pelander’s development as a singer. Frequently compared to his idol, Pentagram’s Bobby Liebling, Pelander treats listeners to a much-increased vocal repertoire. Fans of the band’s Sabbath sound need not be disappointed, as “Leva” proves reminiscent of the groove-fueled rhythms of “Fairies Wear Boots,” and the disc’s fourth and fifth tracks will have the listener reaching for a copy of Master of Reality. But it’s the last two songs that really separate this release from Witchcraft of yesteryear. Elements of prog-rock come into play on “Remembered” as the song’s simple blues drive is accented by a surprising yet appropriate saxophone solo before fading out to the disc’s closing title track, a neo-folk-tinged epic presented in three movements. Thematically, the lyrics of this song display significant maturity. Expanding his stock collection of myths and folk-tales, Pelander explores the human spirit’s ability to transcend anguish and struggle brought on by mental and physical abuse. For this reason, “The Alchemist” serves as the disc’s most daring and crowning achievement. Witchcraft may be part of a ’70s rock revolution that will ultimately fade, but they have secured their own longevity. They not only pay homage to their predecessors, they contribute to those traditions and expand musical expectations. A tour in support of Witchcraft’s latest brings them to The Alibi Sunday, Nov. 11. Portland psych-rockers Danava open. — Michael Mannix
Over the past 15 years, a steady stream of good, bad and indifferent anthologies has promised to deliver the thrills of pulp fiction. But for all the retro cover art, melodramatic blurb copy and Quentin Tarantino allusions, their contents have been shockingly deficient in what aficionados consider to be the real pulp fiction: stories that originally appeared in the luridly covered popular fiction magazines — printed on incredibly cheap pulp paper — that were the medium for popular and genre fiction during the period between the two world wars. Even the staunchest purist, however, will be pleased with The Black Lizard Big Book of Pulps. No false advertising here. The Big Book is big, roughly the size of the San Francisco yellow pages. And it offers up nothing but the purest in pulp mystery fiction. Save for one story by the iconic James M. Cain, every one of the 45-odd full-length novels, novelettes and short stories here originally appeared in the pages of long-gone pulps such as Black Mask, Clues, Detective Story, Gun Molls and Detective Fiction Weekly. The Big Book is packed with appearances by what is arguably the pulps’ greatest contribution to posterity: the hard-boiled private eye. Excellent, seldom-reprinted stories by Raymond Chandler (“Red Wind,” “Fingerman”) and Dashiell Hammett (“The Creeping Siamese,” “Faith”) are joined by clipped-prose gems such as Paul Cain’s ultra-hard-boiled exercise in blackmail, “One, Two, Three,” and Frederick Nebel’s tough tale of nightclub murder, “Wise Guy,” along with a bevy of unsentimental gumshoe stories by unfortunately lesser-known writers, among them Roger Torrey, Stewart Sterling and Leslie White. The pulps weren’t all about tough-talking dicks, though. In a section titled “The Villains,” the Big Book focuses on the “bad” guys who often weren’t that bad. In one typical story, Raoul Whitfield’s “About Kid Deth,” a sympathetic racketeer beats a bum murder rap with a few of his less-savory fellows. And rounding out the volume is “The Dames,” a selection of stories featuring strong female characters. While there were no women PIs in the pulps, there were plenty of broads like the chorine protagonist of Cornell Woolrich’s “Angel Face,” who could out-wisecrack the sharpest-tongued gumshoe. Of course, picture-perfect prose is in short supply. The bulk of the material in the Big Book was written by poor bastards trying to make a living pounding out stories at a penny a word. At that rate, experimentation was idiotic and rewriting a rare luxury. But these strictures guaranteed that the stories would be relentlessly paced and action-packed. Someone’s getting knocked over the head, if not shot or stabbed, on every other page. And even in these bullet-riddled sagas, there is no shortage of rough-hewn beauty. In Steve Fisher’s “You’ll Always Remember Me,” the psychopathic protagonist concludes that “one person more or less isn’t so important in the world anyway, no matter how good a guy he is.” In Frank Gruber’s “The Sad Serbian,” a skip tracer notes, “The noise she makes when she hits the floor reminds me of the time I got drunk at a dance and fell into the bass drum.” And the opening line of Woolrich’s “Angel Face”? “I had on my best hat and warpaint when I dug into her bell.” Well, who can resist? After a thousand pages of this, you’ll never want to go back to the fake stuff. The Black Lizard Big Book puts the pulp back into pulp fiction. — John Marr, San Francisco Bay Guardian
Ghostface Killah is a brilliant storyteller and lyricist, and is the only Wu-Tang Clan member still making relevant solo albums. He’s a prolific and increasingly media-savvy artist who nonetheless seems to constantly shoot himself in the foot commercially. He’s also a crybaby. Recently, word got out that Wu-Tang Clan would release its first album in six years, 8 Diagrams, on Dec. 4. This coincided with the date Ghost had set for his new album, The Big Doe Rehab. So, like any sixth grader who didn’t get the front seat despite clearly having called “shotgun,” he threw a hissy fit. “I had Dec. 4 for the longest,” he told MTV.com in an Oct. 15 article, going on to complain that the group’s “hierarchy” was screwing him over financially. “They trying to f—- around and make me push my album back and doing all this. But n—as ain’t f—ing around or give us money when we did them Wu-Tang tours. The first one, they paid us after a while, but this last one, n—as is holding onto a lot of money. “ (Censorship MTV’s.) The “hierarchy” Ghost refers to seems to include RZA and Steve Rifkind, the president of SRC Records, which is putting out the Wu-Tang album. Ghost’s disenchantment apparently extends to 8 Diagrams itself, which is rumored to include little of his input. Like a football coach coddling a bratty star player, RZA quickly capitulated after the MTV.com interview and pushed the album back a week. But is Ghost really upset about finances? If so, why does he make so many bogus career moves? Why, for instance, release The Big Doe Rehab in the midst of one of the most jam-packed fourth quarters in rap history? Besides Wu, no less than Nas, Jay-Z, Nelly, Lupe Fiasco, Styles P, Saigon and Lil Wayne all have records slated to drop within a month of Ghost’s. Refining the album and putting it out next year would make more sense. Ghost’s impatience has harmed him before; sales of 2006’s Fishscale were likely cannibalized by the release of More Fish eight and a half months later (and vice versa). Whereas Fishscale was a tour de force focused on the cocaine trade, More Fish was a lackluster effort, containing a song in which he claims the script to the movie Ray was jacked from him (?), an ode to Texas Hold ‘Em, a track sung by Eamon (the “Fuck It” guy) and a recycled MF Doom beat. Speaking of Doom, Ghost seems to be borrowing the still-masked rapper’s career playbook, releasing (usually) critically beloved records with zero commercial prospects. (That’s not to say their long-promised “GhostDoom” collaboration will see the light of day anytime soon, however.) Further, Ghost seems to have no interest in writing a radio-friendly song, shunning the rappers and crooners of the moment (T-Pain, Akon, Justin Timberlake, etc.) on his studio albums in favor of his own weed carriers and Wu-Tang cronies (Trife Da God, Cappadonna, etc.). Though The Pretty Toney Album at least featured a Ludacris-lite sex romp with Missy Elliott, Fishscale singles “Back Like That” and “Be Easy” seemed more geared toward heads than a mass audience. His new single, “Celebrate,” featuring Kid Capri, is more of the same. None of this is a bad thing, and backpackers, comic-book fans and indie-rockers worldwide love him for just being him. In fact, Ghost is appealing directly to his base by releasing a new book of MTV2-inspired musings, The World According to Pretty Toney, and starring in the Jon Favreau-directed Iron Man, due out next year. Ghost’s business decisions sound senseless, his temper tantrums look pointless and his materialism seems disingenuous. But as for the artist entwined in all of that, we hope Ghostface Killah will never change. — Ben Westhoff, SF Weekly
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