Curt Kirkwood review on Stylus.
Note: In light of the end of Stylus in 2007, I decided to archive the text of all my reviews for the site on this blog for posterity, since I don't what the future holds for the Stylus domain, and have included both the letter grade ratting that accompanied the original review, and an adjusted rating that I would give the record now in retrospect.
Curt Kirkwood
Snow
Little Dog
2005
Stylus rating: C
Adjusted rating by reviewer: C+
Snow is Curt Kirkwood's first solo album, 25 years after he began the legendary Arizona trio the Meat Puppets with his younger brother Cris Kirkwood and friend Derrick Bostrom, and ten years since the band's original lineup was last heard from. After 1995's No Joke, Cris Kirkwood spiralled into a long, dark period of drug addiction and legal troubles, sidelining the band indefinitely. But Snow is far from the first time Curt has attempted to move on with a new project. In fact, it's his 4th album under a different name in the past 5 years.
Curt's first post-Meat Puppets band, a quartet formed in Austin as the Royal Neanderthal Orchestra, eventually succumbed to the need for name recognition to secure a label deal, and released the 2000 album Golden Lies as the Meat Puppets. Shortly after, the Meat Puppets 2.0, as they became known among fans, broke up, and Kirkwood was next seen in Eyes Adrift, a supergroup with Nirvana bassist Krist Novaselic and Sublime drummer Bud Gaugh who released a self-titled album in 2002. The next year Eyes Adrift broke up, and Kirkwood re-teamed with Gaugh and others in 2004 as Volcano, who yet again broke up shortly after their debut album was released to little fanfare. After a series of failed groups, Kirkwood is finally striking out on his own with a solo album, which is probably for the best. Even if it doesn't do well, at least there's no messy breakup.
Snow's first song, "Golden Lies", shares its title (and little else) with the sole album by the aborted Meat Puppets 2.0. Where Golden Lies the album fused the band's slick, melodic 90's sound with awkward forays into rap-metal territory, "Golden Lies" the song is, like much of Snow, a twangy, stripped down recording that reconnects Kirkwood to his country influences more explicitly than anything he's done in the past decade. Snow also reunites Kirkwood with producer Pete Anderson, who also worked on the Meat Puppets' 1991 major label debut Forbidden Places. Best known for his work with country artists like Dwight Yoakam, Anderson was considered an ill-fitting producer for the Puppets at the time, picked by the band's label, who didn't know what to do with the country-influenced Southwestern punk band who later connected much more successfully with an alt-rock audience. But aside from the occasional tasteful swell of pedal steel on songs like "Circles," Snow hardly bears the fingerprints of Nashville professionalism.
Anderson's production and arrangements on Snow are spare and naturalistic, accompanying Kirkwood's voice and guitars with light touches of bass, percussion, organ, and occasionally an unexpected twist like the trumpet solo at the end of "Light Bulb." The Meat Puppets' albums have always been distinguished and dated by their production, from the early SST albums recorded on a shoestring budget, to the synthesizers and drum machines of 1987's Mirage, to the heavy, compressed grunge guitar sound of 1994's Too High To Die. But on Snow, the production's invisible hand strips away all extraneous layers so that, for better or worse, Kirkwood's songs stand by themselves. There's always been a charm to his low, unsteady croon, especially when he layers vocal harmonies. And the acoustic treatment suits Kirkwood well, considering that the biggest audience he's ever had was when he and his brother appeared on Nirvana's MTV Unplugged to play three Meat Puppets tunes.
The songs on Snow frequently recall different eras of Kirkwood's past. The steady and somber gallop of "Box Of Limes" sounds like a cousin of Meat Puppets II's "Lost". And several songs travel the same territory as the bright, sunsoaked melodies of No Joke. Kirkwood's guitar solos have always been one of his greatest strengths, but Snow unfortunately skimps on them, although the two gorgeous solos on "In Bone" nearly make up for it.
Kirkwood's first band's joyfully nihilistic sense of the absurd is largely absent on Snow, but the subdued sensibility that takes its place suits him. It's clearly the work of a talented veteran, approaching middle age and weary from years of personal tragedy and career missteps. It's a quiet, uneventful, and sometimes even dull album. But it's also a solid step in the right direction after years of trying to recreate the magical group dynamic of the original Meat Puppets that's likely to ever happen again. For once, Curt Kirkwood is standing on his own and being himself, and only good can come of it.
Reviewed by: Al Shipley
Reviewed on: 2005-11-21
Note: In light of the end of Stylus in 2007, I decided to archive the text of all my reviews for the site on this blog for posterity, since I don't what the future holds for the Stylus domain, and have included both the letter grade ratting that accompanied the original review, and an adjusted rating that I would give the record now in retrospect.
Curt Kirkwood
Snow
Little Dog
2005
Stylus rating: C
Adjusted rating by reviewer: C+
Snow is Curt Kirkwood's first solo album, 25 years after he began the legendary Arizona trio the Meat Puppets with his younger brother Cris Kirkwood and friend Derrick Bostrom, and ten years since the band's original lineup was last heard from. After 1995's No Joke, Cris Kirkwood spiralled into a long, dark period of drug addiction and legal troubles, sidelining the band indefinitely. But Snow is far from the first time Curt has attempted to move on with a new project. In fact, it's his 4th album under a different name in the past 5 years.
Curt's first post-Meat Puppets band, a quartet formed in Austin as the Royal Neanderthal Orchestra, eventually succumbed to the need for name recognition to secure a label deal, and released the 2000 album Golden Lies as the Meat Puppets. Shortly after, the Meat Puppets 2.0, as they became known among fans, broke up, and Kirkwood was next seen in Eyes Adrift, a supergroup with Nirvana bassist Krist Novaselic and Sublime drummer Bud Gaugh who released a self-titled album in 2002. The next year Eyes Adrift broke up, and Kirkwood re-teamed with Gaugh and others in 2004 as Volcano, who yet again broke up shortly after their debut album was released to little fanfare. After a series of failed groups, Kirkwood is finally striking out on his own with a solo album, which is probably for the best. Even if it doesn't do well, at least there's no messy breakup.
Snow's first song, "Golden Lies", shares its title (and little else) with the sole album by the aborted Meat Puppets 2.0. Where Golden Lies the album fused the band's slick, melodic 90's sound with awkward forays into rap-metal territory, "Golden Lies" the song is, like much of Snow, a twangy, stripped down recording that reconnects Kirkwood to his country influences more explicitly than anything he's done in the past decade. Snow also reunites Kirkwood with producer Pete Anderson, who also worked on the Meat Puppets' 1991 major label debut Forbidden Places. Best known for his work with country artists like Dwight Yoakam, Anderson was considered an ill-fitting producer for the Puppets at the time, picked by the band's label, who didn't know what to do with the country-influenced Southwestern punk band who later connected much more successfully with an alt-rock audience. But aside from the occasional tasteful swell of pedal steel on songs like "Circles," Snow hardly bears the fingerprints of Nashville professionalism.
Anderson's production and arrangements on Snow are spare and naturalistic, accompanying Kirkwood's voice and guitars with light touches of bass, percussion, organ, and occasionally an unexpected twist like the trumpet solo at the end of "Light Bulb." The Meat Puppets' albums have always been distinguished and dated by their production, from the early SST albums recorded on a shoestring budget, to the synthesizers and drum machines of 1987's Mirage, to the heavy, compressed grunge guitar sound of 1994's Too High To Die. But on Snow, the production's invisible hand strips away all extraneous layers so that, for better or worse, Kirkwood's songs stand by themselves. There's always been a charm to his low, unsteady croon, especially when he layers vocal harmonies. And the acoustic treatment suits Kirkwood well, considering that the biggest audience he's ever had was when he and his brother appeared on Nirvana's MTV Unplugged to play three Meat Puppets tunes.
The songs on Snow frequently recall different eras of Kirkwood's past. The steady and somber gallop of "Box Of Limes" sounds like a cousin of Meat Puppets II's "Lost". And several songs travel the same territory as the bright, sunsoaked melodies of No Joke. Kirkwood's guitar solos have always been one of his greatest strengths, but Snow unfortunately skimps on them, although the two gorgeous solos on "In Bone" nearly make up for it.
Kirkwood's first band's joyfully nihilistic sense of the absurd is largely absent on Snow, but the subdued sensibility that takes its place suits him. It's clearly the work of a talented veteran, approaching middle age and weary from years of personal tragedy and career missteps. It's a quiet, uneventful, and sometimes even dull album. But it's also a solid step in the right direction after years of trying to recreate the magical group dynamic of the original Meat Puppets that's likely to ever happen again. For once, Curt Kirkwood is standing on his own and being himself, and only good can come of it.
Reviewed by: Al Shipley
Reviewed on: 2005-11-21
Labels: some shit I wrote, Stylus, The Meat Puppets
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