The Mouse That Roared

Modest Mouse

Building Nothing Out Of Something

[Up]

Now that the Dismemberment Plan have escaped unscathed from their major-label nightmare, it's time to wholeheartedly start worrying about Modest Mouse. What on earth would any major label want with this band? Why on earth would this band want a major label? Does anyone besides me recognize the absurdity of a group whose best moments tend to be seven-minute spazzathons and whose catchiest chorus came on a song called "Convenient Parking" giving up the safe confines of indiedom for a big, mean corporation?

Hopefully, Modest Mouse's albums will continue to come out on vinyl on Up so, like Built To Spill, I can pretend that they are still an indie band. Or better still, like the Plan, they'll be given a lot of money to record a really great statement-level third album and will then be dropped in the nick of time, allowing them to put their big-money record out on a trustworthy independent. We have a few months still until the Mouse's major label debut hits shelves (sparing any further major corporate mergers), so let's all curl up with Building Nothing Out Of Something and reminisce about the days about the only Modest Mouse-related thing we had to worry about was Isaac Brock stomping too hard on his tremolo pedal and spraining an ankle.

Building Nothing, which collects out-of-print EP and single material, isn't as deep a window into the Mouse's lair as last full-length The Lonesome Crowded West, but it has most of the same major marking points. Like kindergarteners playing with their instruments for the first time, this trio relishes each cool sound they can make, repeating simple riffs and hooks over and over again as if suffering from some sort of compulsive indie rocking disorder. "Interstate 8" begins with a cool little riff that for a Braid or Archers Of Loaf would only begin a song, but

Modest Mouse plays it again and again, using it as backing for verse, bridge, and chorus, squeezing every last inch of pathos out of that handful of notes. Brock sometimes seems to suffer from lyrical Tourette's syndrome; occasionally you have to check to see whether your record player's arm is stuck when lines like "everything is all right" ("Workin' On Leavin' The Livin'") or "you can really get it on!" ("All Nite Diner") repeat themselves for three- or four-minute stretches.

But these are strengths. Modest Mouse's fixation on getting the most out of one chord at one moment, and hopping from hook to hook as if Doug Martsch on speed at the next, makes listening to Building sort of like flipping through channels on a radio that only gets college stations. Maybe now they'll vanish from the face of the earth, broken by the system Jawbox and Eleventh Dream Day couldn't buck. Or maybe they'll be the next Nirvana, breaking through and briefly giving thousands of indie bands hope that good rock music can be commercially successful rock music. Neither storyline diminishes the quality of Building Nothing Out Of Something.

[Mark T.R. Donohue]

Ghostface Killah

Supreme Clientele

[Epic]

Ah, Wu-Tang, how I love you. Your cheerful misogyny, your amusing egocentrism, your insistence on releasing at least one solo album per member per year - a rock musician couldn't have written the script better.

But hold up a second. The miracle of Wu-Tang is that somehow, quantity has begotten quality. It's not a contradiction in terms, really. Having at least five or six full-lengths to fill every year gives RZA, Wu-Tang's resident mastermind, a palette for experimentation the likes of which we really haven't seen since the Phil Spector era.

RZA has it so good he gets to dedicate entire albums (1998's RZA As Bobby Digital In Stereo) to testing out new studio toys.

The payoffs come every few albums, on records like GZA's Liquid Swords, Cappadonna's The Pillage, and now Ghostface Killah's Supreme Clientele, which learn from the mistakes of their predecessors and leap forward in very cool new directions. Supreme Clientele impresses in many different ways - there's some verse-and-chorus styled loungelike numbers in keeping with the album art and glittery CD case ("Nutmeg," "Saturday Nite"), there's some classic minor string sweep and off-beat rhyme Wu-bangers ("Malcolm," "Stay True"), and the off-the-hook posse cut "Buck 50," with an amazing cast including Redman, Method Man, and Cappadonna joining Ghostface at the mike.

Supreme Clientele's best moments are the ones that just don't sound like anything else Wu has ever done. The severely scratched-up backing to "Stroke Of Death" keeps the listener on edge while Ghostface Killah bravely rhymes over the devastated, broken-up beat. The old school 808 beats and spare sampling of "Against The Grain," which features a verse by RZA (who also appears elsewhere on the record as his Bobby Digital persona), is one of the catchiest crossovers Wu has ever produced.

All of Wu's MCs can rhyme, not the least Ghostface Killah, who has a breathless whinge that sounds best when he's rapping as fast as he can. The element on which Wu joints always hinge is the production, and Supreme Clientele's is top-drawer. Although RZA isn't credited as producer on too many tracks, his thumbprints are all over the record, as a remixer, songwriter, and rapper. Clearly more attention was paid to this album than Raekwon's subpar Immobilarity or Method Man's disappointing Tical 2000. The best Wu-Tang releases are obviously the group ones, where you get all the MCs and RZA production on every track. If you have those already and you want more, Supreme Clientele is one of the better places to start. [MD]

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