35 SUMMERS Bleed Out Loud HAVING QUIETLY RELEASED several long-players to their Arizona fans over the past few years, 35 Summers' new 'un is the one to bring the band some overdue national attention. And it does sound like a "real" band, for despite Chris Holiman and Tammy Allen handling the songwriting and singing chores, bassist Jim Cox and drummer Todd Pierson steer the vehicle with a solid mix of intuition and muscle power. The bottom line being that this album sports some terrific, commercially accessible tunes that come alive at the hands of one our best local combos. For his part, Holiman never lets you down with his imperfect-but-sweet upper-register warble, and he even finds quality howling time in tracks like the brash, garagey "Lucky Charm" and the raging jangle-pop of "Seize The Day." Watson's gifts are even more profound; in the best tune here, "Leland," she spits the title character's name (he's a homeless guy who "cries at night") in equal parts disgust and sorrow, making you wonder and/or care about this guy Leland. And she renders the bittersweet reflections of "Amy's Lips" with caution and reserve, making the ballad-like, almost psychedelic song smolder. On the whole, the album is suffused with the entire spectrum of emotions, from deep sadness to ecstatic joy. 35 Summers' greatest power is that of alchemy, of turning emotions into concrete, tangible things. --Fred Mills MORPHINE Like Swimming DreamWorks/Rykodisc MORPHINE'S KIND OF music--the kind that connects with people on a very physical level--is so simple it's amazing no one's done it before. Mark Sandman's two-string bass and baritone voice, and Dana Colley's bass and baritone saxophones actually reverberate in the chest, treating listeners to a low-impact massage. And anything that feels this good can't be bad. But Morphine's blessing, that distinctive low-rock sound, is also its curse. Not only are they bound to an instantly recognizable sound, they're also limited in their arrangements. Four years after their excellent breakthrough record Cure For Pain, Morphine's played out its novelty appeal. So where does that leave Like Swimming, Morphine's debut with the big boys at DreamWorks? Pretty much where they started--full of loping bass lines and slithery sax riffs. Only with the album closer "Swing It Low" does Morphine hint at changes to come: With guitar, keyboards, programmed drums, and no saxophone, the song (first released as a Sandman solo project) captures Morphine's noire moods in mid-range as well. Too bad Tom Waits already proved it years ago. --Roni Sarig ROYAL TRUX Sweet Sixteen Virgin THE ARTWORK FOR Sweet Sixteen resembles the toilet in CBGB's after one of its marathon, hardcore matinees: a putrid, overflowing mess. Likewise, the fake, constipated howl of Jennifer Herrema and the excremental sound collage of Royal Trux is a refried, masturbatory excursion in '70s-influenced stoner jams for today's slacker generation. It's unattractive and excruciatingly painful to the ears. A slew of hard-rock overindulgences, from irritating Savoy Brown Boogie-guitar wankin' ("Golden Rules") through the glam-warped looseness of Marc Bolan ("Roswell Seeds and Stems") and moments of downright Zappa-esque weirdness ("Cold Joint"), indicate Royal Trux should lay off the herb and go back to shooting smack--maybe next time they'll puke up something more palatable. --Ron Bally CORRECTION WE APOLOGIZE FOR the gem of a typo in Ron Bally's review of the Jelly Roll Kings (Quick Scans, April 16). The sentence "Ballsy, gut-achin' guitar execution from behemoth-like Big Black Johnson" should have read "Big Jack Johnson." We asked our effervescent typist what she might have been thinking at the time, but she only blushed. She regrets the error, and, incidentally, is still looking for the man of her dreams.

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