REVIEW: Tricky, Angels With Dirty Faces (Island)
- Joe Silva
Since Maxinquaye's startling arrival, Tricky has tried to give all concerned a redefined vision of urban musical blight - soundscapes that are sparse and menacing, yet ultimately groovin'. "Aftermath" was all those things, but four years out, Tricky may have become the victim of his own vision-thing.
What Tricky's "voodoo" is currently about is more crisp drum tracks holding up ghostly bass and guitar lines and a bit of the old ultra-grim keyboard. His feel for effectively etching a track's character remains near-stellar, but in the end there's too little variation throughout what he chooses to render. The fragments he chooses to build upon are too wispy or skeletal to be the basis for much of anything. But lavished upon with stroke after stroke of calculated gloom, they become curious enough to draw your attention. Which is exactly what Tricky's best at.
But there are small triumphs. The incessant, spare riff laid down by Jack Hersca on the lead-off piece "Mellow" is engaging enough in its basic nature to distract you momentarily from Tricky's tolerable lifting of basic Tom Waits shtick. The gospel choir placed up against a macabre fairground vibe during "Broken Homes" shows off his occasionally great flair for juxtaposition. But while PJ Harvey chimes in to make something of the rudimentary melody Tricky, not content to have smartly orchestrated all of this, can't restrain himself from tainting the goods with a completely unnecessary appearance on da' mike.
As things go on from there, you'll hear Tricky natter on about feeling "pre-menstrual" (pre-millennial?) as the industry gets ready to bleed him for more than he cares to dispense. His ego is firmly lodged in an abstraction that insists upon it's share of universal respect as long as there no protracted amount of prodding at his flesh. He's here to assure us that he's great and powerful. Just trust him on this one, okay?
As always Martina, in her role as significant other and general purpose point of illumination, thankfully comes to the fore. Her totally credible demand for her "ten dollars today" during "Singing the Blues" makes you wonder if PJ's earlier stand-in appearance was just a bit of artistic name-dropping. As pure cinema, Martina's voice is a leading light whose languor is a verite that Tricky can not do without while he's running the game. Because even though he can nab ace talent like Marc Ribot or genre heavies like Anthrax's Scott Ian (!!!), they are largely subjugated to his will. Until Tricky finds a key collaborator or is willing to hang on his ego a touch more aggressively, his will continue to be an overpoweringly morose specter over his output.
