April 9, 2003
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PLACE A CLASSIFIED AD | PERSONALS | MOVIE CLOCK | REP CLOCK | SEARCH Local GroovesSubArachnoid Space Also Rising (Strange Attractors Audio House) Local intergalactic travelers SubArachnoid Space play sometimes knockout, sometimes ho-hum space rock that at times sketches the parameters of '70s (and even '80s) prog so flawlessly it makes you want to put on a scoop-necked leotard shirt and pick up a Chapman stick or whatever the hell that thing is. With Also Rising, the quintet have moved away from such blatantly retro leanings, however, playing more traditionally "now" songs that gently come together over the course of six or seven minutes, building in intensity, then breaking apart, then coming back together again. It's a very hypnotic record that's effective almost the whole way through, especially during the spots where the action sort of quiets down and a guitar floats around out there, toggling between pickups like a distress signal or pealing off a single fuzzed note. Also Rising is a little closer to what SAS's counterpart Bardo Pond have been delivering – somnambulant semi-indie-fied space jams – and it should win them the respect of the Ba Da Bing! crowd, who like their psychedelia light and fluffy. The good thing is, amid the floating cloud sections, there are crashing, superheavy freak-outs because SAS play hard, like they can't resist the call of the wild. It works, and it keeps things from getting too sleepy. SubArachnoid Space play April 22, Curve Bar, S.F. (415) 820-1400; and at their CD-release party, April 27, Hemlock Tavern, S.F. (415) 923-0923. (Mike McGuirk) Sole The incontrovertible third law of writing is that a phrase you've seen before is a cliché and you should try something else. Likewise the tired lament/boast/prayer/plea of the white rapper for visibility/respect on hip-hop's African American-calibrated radar, which – since the days of Third Bass – violates the first law of entertainment: don't bore the audience. At this stage of the game (the rap game, the life game, the just-pretend game, or any other game), when Anticon family member Sole says, "I wanted to be black since I was 14" on "Da Baddest Poet," the first cut on Selling Live Water, all you can reply is "You and every other ofay with a mic. Get in line." Not that Sole isn't dimly aware of the problem – in fact, the lyrics on Selling Live Water have footnotes (yo, Sole: the fourth law is show, don't tell) – but his answer is wrong. Sole is, as he says, "attempting to deal with my hip-hop identity." Enough is enough. He's declared war (but unpaid tickets and office supplies? Sole, there's a war going on, and Oakland schools are Superfund sites – aim in that direction) but sounds serious only when he's staking out personal turf. Too bad, because Sole's good with words – check out "Ode to the War on Terrorism" – even though his flow flows like AC Transit. Still, I guess we all ride the bus every so often. Sole plays Sat/12, 9 p.m., Slim's, S.F. (415) 255-0333. (J.H. Tompkins) |
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