BRIAN JONESTOWN MASSACRE & r & & r & My Bloody Underground & r & & r & 2 STARS & r & & r & & lt;span class= & quot;dropcap & quot; & T & lt;/span & he latest from Anton Newcombe & amp; Co. has some truly masterful song titles ("Bring Me the Head of Paul McCartney on Heather Mills' Wooden Peg" and "Just Like Kicking Jesus"), but the album fails to find any coherent sensibility. Beyond the extended jams, the same self-indulgent hippie-dippiness that reverberated with freshness in earlier albums falls flat, particularly on the lengthy instrumental tracks. My Bloody Underground reveals itself as a time capsule from the '60s, but it's better left unopened.
There is some magic to be found, however. "Who Cares Why" offers eight minutes of hypnotic, delirious psychedelia. "Yeah-Yeah" is classic, reminding us of BJM's "Their Satanic Majesties' Second Request" album. But at best, the album is disjointed. At worst, it is a complete failure of packaging, a solid EP cloaked in the ill-fitting attire of a full-length release.
-- CAREY MURPHY
DOWNLOAD: "Who Cares Why"
Working Man's Caf & eacute;
& lt;span class= & quot;dropcap & quot; & W & lt;/span & ith his second solo outing, Ray Davies reveals that he has not quite lost the edge that gave so many of his Kinks albums their wry and biting wit. Never much of a sentimentalist during those days, Davies shows that he has not softened his perspectives significantly in the passing years. In fact, it would be fair to say that the isolation he allowed his characters to feel is only magnified in an increasingly anonymous world.
The title track starts the ball rolling down these well-worn paths, as does the scathing "Vietnam Cowboys," a condemnation of the unavoidable, negative consequences of creating a global economy and society. But Davies is no morose moper, and even the darkest of the dismay finds a comedic, lighthearted side. "No One Listen" and "Imaginary Man" both exhibit such whimsy, each an assessment of just how easy it is to disappear, even from oneself.