March 26, 2003

Siouxsie Sioux, come home – all is forgiven. Black Ice carry on like the grandma of goth never threw in the black eyeliner, went tropical with the Creatures, and then ceased her strident, tremulous yowls. But then again, who cares if Siouxsie is back on the graying first wave-punk/new wave reunion circuit, when the East Bay trio is around to improve on the Banshees' legacy. On Eve EP, Black Ice's debut recording, Stevenson Sedgwick and Skot B suture the forceful, noisome, and goth-tinged punk of their other band, the Phantom Limbs, to vocalist Miss Kel's howls and growls. Musically, their creation is a recognizable beast. Sedgwick and B make good use of descending guitar scales, clattering piano, effects-laden drums, and the occasional metal riff on fitful, moody conniptions such as "Severed," "No Excuse," and "Broken Pieces." And while Miss Kel's histrionic moments might be an acquired taste for some listeners, overall she puts a womanly, pleasantly familiar, if somewhat predictable face on the once-all-instrumental group's six-song release. Now all we need are lyrics worthy of such serious proceedings – something that reaches beyond the kindergarten rhymes of "rat," "cat," and "mat." Black Ice play Thurs/27, 9 p.m., Bottom of the Hill, S.F. (415) 474-0365. (Kimberly Chun)

Felonious: onelovehiphop
The Produce Section: Volume One
(Wishbone Entertainment)

The members of Felonious: onelovehiphop are coming of age with nary a pimple, but they've got the requisite edginess of twentysomething rabble-rousers. After flaunting their lyrical prowess in the 2002 hip-hop theatrical production Beatbox: A Raparetta, the group recorded a new album, The Produce Section: Volume One, which is the product of kids who were probably reared on healthy doses of Jimmy Cliff and old-skool boom bap and, like many of us, found inspiration in a Dickensian existence of hosing romaine lettuce and sweeping concrete floors for minimum wage.

I wish The Produce Section had come out while I was working at Pinole's now-defunct Al's Produce. The album's blend of agitprop and instrumental panache would have been a welcome antidote to the "soft and warm, the quiet storm" sounds we were routinely subjected to.