We Live Here
Pat Metheny Group

One of the most perpetual arguments in the history of rock 'n' roll is whether Jimi Hendrix was the greatest guitarist of all time.

The fact which both sides of the "issue" fail to see, and which would enable us all to transcend such a trivial question, is that it is relatively immaterial how "great" Jimi was -- what is significant is that he had dreams of innovation, and he brought them to reality. He envisioned a figurative portal, through which he learned how to travel via guitar by doing things with the instrument which nobody had ever done before.

This portal is still there, and those who are truly proficient and visionary in the art of guitar are still embarking on similar journeys. Pat Metheny is one of those visionaries.

Since the early '70s, Metheny has been using this gateway to venture into the futuristic world of fusion, a modem-age melding of jazz and pop. Now, with the Pat Metheny Group, he has put forth We Live Here, the next logical step in his steadily progressive, if predictable, evolution.

The range of this album is quite broad. There are slower, more romantically toned songs, juxtaposed with the furious poppace of the title track. A good majority of the work, however, focuses on a consistant, inactive tempo, with little reliance on beat.

The percussion, in fact, is quite monotonous, and probably the least interesting aspect of the work. There are occasional outbursts of jazzier elements, such as the flugelhorn or whistling overlays. The wordless vocals of David Blamires, which have become an elementary characteristic of this band, add to the subtle, background-movie-theme feel of many tracks.

But all of those swirling, melding elements are actually revolving around a centripetal core -- the musically personified relationship being carried on between Metheny and pianist/ keyboardist Lyle Mays through their respective instruments. Throughout the entire album is what can only be described as an ongoing conversation between the two artists, around which all other musical factors serve as mere outside commentary.

They lead one another from frantic, active moods to more relaxed, placid points at which they sound somewhat like two runners having just crossed the finish line, exchanging congratulations.

The Pat Metheny Group has found the musical portal, and are using it to carry themselves on a seemingly boundless journey through the realm of guitars and synthesizers.

The past several months have seen a number of comebacks for bands that once ruled the screen of "120 Minutes" before "Alternative" became an official marketing term.

The Judybats, Ride and The Stone Roses are only a few of the once-obscure bands that, after hiatuses of considerable duration (many bands were assumed to have broken up), have returned and begun down new roads.

Kitchens of Distinction are doing just that. Surfacing for the first time since The Death of Cool in 1992, Kitchens have brought us Cowboys and Aliens, a work of brilliance in which they continue in their vein of ultra-romantic pop. Simultaneously, they branch out into territory new to them -- rock 'n' roll.

No, there are no heavy guitar chords on this album, and vocalist Patrick Fitzgerald does not start to howl or anything. The changes are more subtle than that and most tracks stick to the dreamy psychedelia this band produces so well. The lyrics still compose vividly detailed emotional experiences, with imagery of abstract concepts such as love.

What is new to this album is confidence -- an intense forcefulness which drives the songs harder than in the past. The relentless title track has the intense feel and lyrical peculiarity of the Bauhaus weird-ballads of the late '70s.

Though not one of the more shocking developments among "alternative" bands of late, Cowboys and Aliens is an impressive progression for the Kitchens, and the more traditional elements of their style are still "distinctly" there.

In a sideshow gone mad, Prick, the puppet, explores the world.

Sound strange? That's the gimmick of the new album Prick. The record is a mesh of melody and industrial mayhem that attempts to seriously expand upon the journey of a marionette (Prick) , as he breaks free from his creator and discovers individual freedom.

Despite the premise, the music doesn't sound anything like the music more restrained puppets such as Kermit or Miss Piggy might make.

In fact, Nine Inch Nail's noisemeister Trent Reznor produces four of the albums nine screeching tracks, including the opener "Communique." It's a blistering beginning with our deranged puppet announcing his debut upon the world - "Ah yes/This is it/This will be the night."

From there, Prick takes on the typical themes that concern young puppets - sex, drugs and reality. The songs are either quiet and pensive with flashes of snarling noise popping up or just the opposite. The techno screechings are cut from the same cloth as Reznor's The Downward Spiral, but are made to order for the Prick concept.

Now that the puppet has become human, the music is soft and soothing, pensive and smart -- yet the snippets of anger still rear their head implying that Prick will be back.