Tucson Weekly: Rhythm & Views (May 22

WARREN G
Take A Look Over Your Shoulder
Reality/Def Jam
WEST COAST HIP-HOP has had so much success on the pop charts because it's often not really hip-hop at all. Listen to Dr. Dre or Coolio or Warren G: Their songs have more "re-playing" than sampling, with no particular reliance on breakbeats or turntable mixing, and lots of singing while raps fill the space between big money choruses. Rather than creating new songs using bits of old ones, the smooth Cali style borrows so heavily from one Music particular song it ends up sounding more like a remake. While the stuff is undeniably catchy and well-produced, west coast rap is still closer to P-Funk karaoke--and R&B-flavored pop--than to traditional hip-hop. Of all the L.A. post-gangstas, Warren G's probably the most pop-oriented and least committed to hip-hop. As with his sharp multi-platinum debut Regulate...G Funk Era, his follow-up, Take A Look Over Your Shoulder, is hardly concerned with rapping at all. It's such an afterthought, in fact, he's happy doling out verses to unknown rhymers like K-9, Malik, and Knee-Hi--or better yet, to R&B crooners like Nanci Fletcher or Nate Dogg (the voice behind his huge hit "Regulate")--even if it means sublimating his own voice in the process. But like his brother Dre, Warren is a rapper only by circumstance and a producer by passion. His personality comes through in ultra-slick funk-enhanced rewrites of familiar, road-tested tunes: The Isley Brothers' "Cooling Me Out" becomes Warren's "Smoking Me Out," and Marley-by-way-of-Clapton's "I Shot the Sheriff" becomes Take A Look's terrific first single. It might make Warren and crew the world's richest cover band, if only he wasn't so good at rethinking grooves and repackaging oldies as pop gems for the '90s. If the entire album was as tight and tuneful as the standouts (those mentioned, plus Nate's showcase "Annie Mae"), Take A Look would be a masterpiece. As it stands, Warren's still a great pop singles artist. And with his new record going light on the gangsta tales--even edited of profanity--that's apparently all he's aiming to be.
--Roni Sarig

PRIMITIVE RADIO GODS
Rocket
Columbia
THAT HIT SINGLE dominated the airwaves before, during and after The Cable Guy's theater run, and it's certainly a unique idea to fuse Lou Reed, keyboards that sound like steel drums, turntable scratching, and B. B. King. Profound, though, this one-man band (Chris O'Connor) ain't, unless your idea of an epiphany involves asking, "If I die before I learn to speak/ Can money pay for all the days I lived awake but half asleep?" Jim Morrison he ain't. In fact, there's a real single-minded mean-spiritedness to O'Connor. Sensitive male? "She's like a gong, you've got to bang her." Righteous dude? "I got a God-given right to smoke whatever I like." Pop culture critic? "Pout and cry, fake suicide, then write a book." Delta bluesman? "I was born on the seventh of May on an overcast day." (Guess the "seventh son of the seventh son" shtick was checked out of the children's library the day O'Connor went in.) The music is equally painful to endure, a hip-hoppy, but unexciting, marriage of Led Zep, Love And Rockets and Bowie.
--Fred Mills

THE CHAMPS
Tequila: The Best Of
Music Club
THANK GOD FOR Pee Wee Herman. Without his inclusion of the instantly recognizable instrumental, "Tequila," on the 1985 film soundtrack to Pee Wee's Big Adventure, the Champs may've languished in obscurity and been relegated to an occasional spot on pre-dawn oldies radio programming. Instead, "Tequila" has become a college mixer staple and enjoyed as much renewed popularity as the Kingsman's "Louie Louie" did after the success of "Animal House." Both tunes are undeniably simple and repetitious. Perfect fodder for a primitive and frenzied beer chuggin' setting. The Champs, clean-cut '50s rock and rollers, wrote many other voodoo rhythmic gems during their heyday, as evidenced by this 10-cut anthology recently reissued on the budget-conscious, Music Club label. The group's vibrant sax and guitar interplay, combined with a heavy Latin influence, made for an enduring and irresistible collaboration. From the Duane Eddy-ish "Train To Nowhere" to the Tex-Mex flavor of "El Rancho Rock," the Champs signature instrumental approach is gloriously represented here.
--Ron Bally

		© 1995-97 Tucson Weekly . Info Booth