Twisted, slanted, soulful

Membership in one of Col. Bruce Hampton’s outfits is an instant resume enhancer. From the Hampton Grease Band to the Aquariam Rescue Unit and the Fiji Mariners, the self-proclaimed colonel has played the role of Frank Zappa, Miles Davis and John Mayall by grooming and tweaking nascent musicians before unleashing them to the public.

But even though Derek Trucks, Glenn Phillips, Oteil Burbridge, Jimmy Herring, Chuck Leavell and Tinsley Ellis have all apprenticed with Hampton, it’s obscure multi-instrumentalist Ben “Pops” Thornton who rides shotgun on two new reissues on Atlanta’s Terminus Records. Originally released in 1980 and 1982, Outside Looking Out and Isles of Langerhan are credited to Col. Bruce and The Late Bronze Age. While the former utilizes 14 guest players (including a horn section) and a four-piece combo performs the latter, both typify Hampton’s confrontational, often avant-garde approach.

Sometimes dubbed the Captain Beefheart of the South (although there is nothing particularly Southern-sounding here), the colonel’s atonal, throaty ranting, non-sequitur-heavy lyrics, outrageous song titles (“Walking With Zambi [Try Hoodah],” “Fat Brooms Brush the Number Bush”) and jolting tempo changes are an acquired taste for all but the most liberal-minded. The zigzagging brass and unusual instrumentation (cello, vibes, oboe) of Outside — not to mention an insane aural collage that sounds like a Hampton nightmare — makes it the more difficult to digest. Isles — with its marginally less-abrasive but still-offbeat rock approach, and nods to prog (thanks to Yes/E.L.P. producer Eddy Offord) and country — even boasts some hummable melodies.

Both albums remain powerful examples of Hampton’s — and to a lesser extent Thorton’s — warped genius.

-- HAL HOROWITZ


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Plenty of noise-obsessed bands agitated the underworld in the ’90s, but few were able to distill it through a melodic lens like Pavement. Formed in 1989 in Stockton, Calif., by Stephen “S.M.” Malkmus and Scott “Spiral Steps” Kannberg, the band’s initial aspirations were a series of impulsive lo-fi EPs. But 1992’s full-length Slanted and Enchanted crystallized its fractured pop with aplomb, its shards of guitar wrestling with whimsical rhythms while Malkmus’ ambivalent vocals underscored the sardonic but literate wordplay. The smart-ass slacker vibe resonated immediately with Gen-X scenesters, instigating a thrift-store irony fetish that remains a calling card for indie rock to this day.

Ten years after the fact, the album has grayed to reissue status, forcing a nostalgic reconsideration with Matador’s expanded, two-discs-for-the-price-of-one offering, Slanted and Enchanted: Luxe & Reduxe. The fickle specter of time treats the material well overall, but the circus of styles and cryptic allusions no longer seems like such an innovative brainteaser. Indeed, while the wry smarminess still endears with a timeless grin, the sonic touchstones (the Pixies on “In the Mouth a Desert,” Wire on “Wounded Kite,” Sonic Youth on “Conduit For Sale”) are more pronounced in hindsight.

Still, with a generous offering of rarities and cuts key to the era, Slanted and Enchanted remains a thoroughly relevant relic. And for those in need of visual reinforcement, Slow Century, a double DVD of videos, concerts and commentary, is out as well.


b>-- JOHN DAVIDSON


The Holmes Brothers band (at its core: Wendell Holmes, vocals, guitar; Sherman Holmes, vocals, bass; Popsy Dixon, vocals, drums) worked the New York scene for a couple of decades before releasing In the Spirit in 1990. The success of the recording raised the band to another level professionally, enabling them to tour internationally, and record with Van Morrison and Peter Gabriel.

Righteous! The Essential Collection (Rounder Heritage Series) is a 17-track anthology of some of the best of the band’s ’90s output. It’s also a testimony to just how much music — and how full and rich a sound — three people can create. It’s a sound that recalls the band’s seminal days (the ’60s), but one that is also timeless and impervious to fads. The Holmes Brothers draw deeply on gospel influences to color their soul, funk and blues. And the mesmerizing spell is broken only occasionally, when the sacred (“I Surrender All”) and the secular (“Fannie Mae”) seem just a bit at odds.

But that’s a minor quibble — and more than made up for by the consistency and occasional pleasant surprises (a Curtis Mayfield-flavored take on the Beatles’ “And I Love Her,” for one) .


b> — BRYAN POWELL