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Paul McCartney

Run Devil Run

(Capitol)

 Amazon

 Lala

Paul McCartney’s release Run Devil Run shoots a wistful wink to the Brylcreme boys of the slick-backed ‘50s. This album was long overdue. A man who’s been knighted, blighted (oops, ex-wife Heather), and ignited (a working-class fire-fighter is something to be), and having been hailed by Yale (honorary degree program) and bailed on (sorry, Heather) deserves to “give grease a chance” and retrofit those tunes that defined and revolutionized his youth.

Paul James McCartney was not only the doe-eyed darling of the fab ‘60s Beatles, he fronted the group Wings with his 30-year marriage partner, Linda. He received the MBE from the Queen, has composed countless classical works—including oratorios—and besides the bass, Macca plays lead and rhythm guitar, keys, and drums. Not to mention his bastion of original tunes. But besides that hullabaloo, what’s the whoop about Run Devil Run?

Well, there’s the unabashed party mood resonating throughout this album, for one. The fact that in December of ‘99, McCartney played a promotional set at Liverpool’s Cavern Club—the club where the Beatles first channeled their chops—leads us to believe he was indeed pining for a more innocent time. Only a year after losing his wife Linda, it made sense that he would recall those early rock ‘n’ roll tracks that kept his left-handed bass plugged in and shimmied his shimmering, oft scratchy vocals.

It’s not surprising, but cunningly original, that McCartney named this kitschy keepsake after an herbal medicine shop in Atlanta. Having always had a penchant for lyrical examination of unsung and ordinary places (take “Penny Lane”, in which he and Lennon chronicle barbers and firemen who bustle in suburbia)  McCartney illustrates in fine detail the drama inherent in ordinary life. And when holding that working-class prism against an everyman, he turns each one into a hero.

But here, aside from penning three original songs—“Run Devil Run”, “Try Not to Cry”, and “What It Is”—McCartney moves aside and lets a long-gone era speak raucously and defiantly for itself. It’s a confident McCartney who bellows “Blue Jean Bop” (Gene Vincent/Morris Levy), and though his song-writing partner of yore exclaimed that they were “bigger than Jesus,” Macca comes full circle by proving he’s bigger than Elvis. Hence, his interpretation of “All Shook Up” (Larry Williams). So can a post-mop–top trump a pompadour with side-burns? Hell, yeah.

McCartney zones in on Chuck Barry’s electro-twang, reverb-flavored “Brown Eyed Handsome Man”, and we’re doin’ the duck walk on sprinkled Zydeco crumbs. He sports lavish vocals in “Coquette”, and in “Party” there are traces of early Beatle covers like “Long Tall Sally”. Rockabilly abounds in “I Got Stung”, and “Shake a Hand” pumps up McCartney’s flaming falsetto. Sweet. Imagine you’re holding an ocean’s shell up to your ear and you’ll hear hints of Roy Orbison and Little Richard in the vocals.

“No Other Baby” heralds a maple-syrup tinge, while “What It Is” reeks of post-rock. “You can buy a dream or two to last you through the year”, he croons in “Lonesome Town”, and then persuasively purges, “I want to enjoy being alive / Don’t want to leave before I arrive” when incarnating “Try Not to Cry”. Rocker ecstasy abounds in “She Said Yeah”, where you delight in McCartney’s primitive, escalating bass. Those were the days…

When Run Devil Run was released it garnered rave reviews, heading up the charts to #12 in the UK and #27 in the US. Sounds like the fans appreciated McCartney’s boyish resurgence and foray into a fun concept album. The 14 songs get you moving, distract you from the car notes, and veer away from any subject deeper than unrequited love. Unlike McCartney’s work before and after, there are no protest songs or retrospectives about inner angst. Don’t expect disappointing gurus or lovely meter maids. Do expect to twist through time travel.

So, for those who consider roller-skating babes, drive-in movies, and root beer floats the bomb, this is it. It’s like a happy shining Norman Rockwell painting put to vinyl, and how bad can that be? It definitely deserves the trophy on the mantel for one of rock ‘n’ roll’s most happy moments. Lisa Torem

The Bloodhound Gang

Hooray for Boobies

(Interscope)

 Amazon

 Lala

Not quite rap, not quite rock, and certainly not nu-metal, the Bloodhound Gang were in a class all by themselves. “Class”, however, doesn’t exactly apply to the band that gave the world Hooray for Boobies—which saw a 1999 release in Europe, but was delayed in the US until early 2000—arguably their best and most controversial album.

Beyond the title, the Bloodhound Gang ran into several roadblocks delaying the release of their third offering. Legal issues arising from the group’s inclusion of a parody of Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall” cropped up on the song “Right Turn Clyde”, and the band battled with their label, Geffen, over the inclusion of a cover of “Along Comes Mary”. The Pink Floyd debacle was resolved, thus allowing Bloodhound Gang to include the lyrics “All in all you’re just another / Dick with no balls” on “Clyde”, but they caved to label pressure and agreed to release “Along Comes Mary”.

Minor artistic squabbles aside, the band earned serious MTV rotation with the disc’s quirky single, “The Bad Touch”. Better known for its über-catchy chorus, (“You and me baby ain’t nothin’ but mammals / So let’s do it like they do on the Discovery Channel”), the song catapulted the band from its fringe status to the mainstream. Prior to this, they’d scored a minor hit with “Fire Water Burn” off of their previous album, and minor cult status with “You’re Pretty When I’m Drunk” from their first disc.

The real beauty of Hooray for Boobies, however, lies within lead singer/lyricist Jimmy Pop’s rapid-fire delivery of pop culture barbs that manage to be both clever and surprisingly intellectual. Lyrically, Bloodhoung Gang sounds like “Weird” Al Yankovic’s pervert savant younger brother if he wrote all-original music. “Three Point One Four” references a double-entendre on the decimal figure known as “pi” and features Jimmy Pop belting out a falsetto coda comprised of a single word: “Va-gi-i-na! / Va-gi-i-na!”—each syllable ascending note-by-note on a musical scale with Freddie Mercury-worthy bombast. The references to female anatomy keep coming with a two-and-a-half minute tribute to adult film star Chasey Lain (who, incidentally, makes a cameo on the album to address the creepy, fan-letter style of the song, all in good fun).

Lest it appear that the Bloodhound Gang are singularly minded, other songs on the album tackle subjects of a deep philosophical and spiritual nature. Take, “Hell Yeah” for instance, in which Pop muses about the nature of God. He ponders, “Would I be a good messiah with my low self esteem? / If I don’t believe in myself / Would that be blasphemy?”, while petitioning to add a “book of Flavor Flav to the Bible”. From tongue-in-cheek proselytizing, the Gang goes all-out grindcore with “I Hope You Die”, perhaps the funniest fantasy ever to depict an elaborate vision of an enemy’s demise, culminating in said enemy’s realization that “‘fist’ can be a verb”.

Over a decade later, the Bloodhound Gang’s unique blend of techno, hip-hop, and metal-tinted guitar rock could easily fit on the current musical landscape. Even more amazingly, most of the wisely-chosen pop culture references contained on Hooray for Boobies are still relevant and funny. Thanks for the mammaries, Bloodhound Gang! Lana Cooper