|
What do you get when Gene Simmons relaunches his record label and goes in search
of artists to release on it? Why, you get Bag, that’s what. Actually, the
story goes that Bag sent his tape in and Simmons loved it so much out of the
tons of submissions received that he immediately got the artist on the Simmons
label. Man, this must be some faboo stuff then, if Mr. Sex can’t even keep his
emotions under wraps about it!
Well, it’s interesting to say the least, and it does have some oddball moments,
but it’s certainly not the second coming of whatever thing is going to save rock
and roll muzak yet again. Bag (he just goes by Bag, nothing more, nothing less)
does all the stuff on this debut disc, and the PR rap tries to compare him to
Beck. But Bag’s not really in that bag (haha!) at all. Beck is Beck and no one
else will be Beck, and that’s a good thing. Bag is pretty much, well, Bag,
though he does hop the genre wagon from one track to the next rather
effortlessly.
The opening track, “Uh Uh Uh Uh” comes off like a robotic funk motif, and here’s
undoubtedly where the Beck comparisons come in. But really it only sounds like a
stale outtake from say, Midnite Vultures if anything from Beck’s catalog,
so that’s not saying a tremendous amount. The problem is that the song never
gets out of first gear, whereas Beck would have taken it off road and gotten the
whole damn thing dirty.
“I Can’t Stand Your Face” is a pretty good novelty groove with enough yuks and
crisp production that it wouldn’t sound out of place as a TV theme or as a minor
FM hit. But then there’s “Pavement” with distorto-beats and fuzzy guitars that
attempts to shift the gears again and merely grinds them down. Bag’s not too
convincing as the heavy type. So when that doesn’t work, he goes back to the
jokes and pulls out “I Hate You Baby” that sounds like what John Lennon might
have if he hadn’t got shot and Jeff Lynne tossed his ELO pretensions all over
him.
It’s not a bad track, and neither is the sleek groove of “Blown Away” that is
probably the epitome of the “Bag sound” with its drum loops, slightly funky
guitar riffs and bass line and easy-to-remember chorus that any band of frat
brothers could chug some cheap beer to while grinding up some poor girl’s butt
at a kegger. Too bad, then, that he tries out the Ween-style of freaky rock
humor with “Aye Mi Amore (I’m so f***in’ horny)” and falls flat on his face.
At times, Bag sounds a bit like E from the Eels as on “Wasted”, which is
pretty enough, but then goes all out gorgeous on “AFTERLIFE” where he takes a
trip down Mercury Rev lane mixed with a bit of White Album Beatles. Not
bad at all. In fact, it’s probably the highlight of the album and a bit of a
shame that more of the disc couldn’t have been as groovy. Unfortunately, the
album’s last stretch of songs get a bit samey, save for one last glorious
surprise in “There’s A Hole In My Heart” that features some extremely tasty
electric piano.
If Bag plays to his strengths, namely lush, melodic grande-sized tunes and
chipper, slightly retro-‘70s power pop, this guy could make one hell of an
excellent album, no doubt about it. But this debut is just a bit too schizo to
enjoy all the way through without hitting the skip button a few times. Still,
you could do a lot worse, so let’s go ahead and give Kudos to Gene “Tonguey”
Simmons for bringing this dude to our attention. If anything, Bag’s probably now
hooked up with all the ladies he can handle. Rock on, Gene.
~Jason Thompson
jthompson@bullz-eye.com
|
 |
|
