(Drag City)
Jim O'Rourke could be considered one of the few godfathers of \post-rock,"" a misguided term for a genre whose usage has increased exponentially since its coinage back in the early '90s. Originally a desperate attempt to describe the ambient soundscapes of Bark Psychosis, ""post-rock"" is now applied to any rock-based music that is instrumental or associated with a handful of the other godfathers, like John McEntire. Basically, if a band member is somehow remotely associated with Slint or influenced by Talk Talk, the band is ""post-rock.""
Propogating silly terms like the ""post-rock"" saga may have made some ounce of sense until now, because there's hardly a trace of what most would consider ""post-rock"" on Insignificance, other than the fact that the dude who made it is Jim O'Rourke. It all ends here. That's right, the term will no longer be used five times in one review ever again (please?).
Insignificance is O'Rourke's pop masterpiece. That's right'pop. While you could feel his interests leaning this way on the excellent 1999 release Eureka, only a few people would have thought this album could come from the one-time member of the abstract structural conceptualist duo Gastr Del Sol. And although their origins are quite different, the fact that the alt-country rocker turned pop aficionado Jeff Tweedy played guitar on this album isn't ignorable.
Not to say that Insignificance has found O'Rourke completely abandoning his knack for writing in interesting structures. It contains more than a few traces of atmospheric string excursions, such as the 20-second intermissions in the otherwise hook-laden rock opener ""All Downhill From Here."" There are oodles of Beach Boys-styled symphonic pop harmonies, and even a fuzzy electronic noise rhythm pattern that fades in at the very end of ""Life Goes Off.""
As straightforward as the album may initially seem, O'Rourke will catch quick-to-gripe critics off guard with lines like ""You feel better if you call me a misanthrope/Or whatever floats your boat."" The masterful centerpiece ""Memory Lane"" features a catchy rhythm-driven groove and bushels of spiteful lyrics like ""It's quite a gamble to speak out of place/Those things could kill ya/But so could your face.""
While not exactly trying to paint a pleasant picture of himself, O'Rourke has furthered his experimentation with different styles, this time in the realm of pop. And as usual, he remains in top form while maintaining his ""love to hate"" image.
(Atlantic)
You can just picture teenage boys excited about Kid Rock's new album, Cocky, saying the title over and over again eventually dissolving into a fit of adolescent guffaws. And Kid Rock will certainly please this hardcore audience with many an expletive-filled ditty. Much more impressive than his numerous rhymes for ""ditty"" however, are the songs that deviate from his rappin', cursin' metal image.
Kid Rock opens his third album singing about what he loves best'himself. While both ""Trucker Anthem"" and ""Forever"" follow this trend, the most obvious self-themed track is the single ""Cocky,"" where he throws out a list of who's who celebrities that he's either bedded or looks down upon. The song's most surprising (and delightful) moment is one of absolute self-awareness, revealing a keen mind and sense of humor about this ""Kid Rock-centered"" universe he sings about.
Beginning with ""What I learned on the road,"" Kid Rock reveals himself to be an incredibly sharp songwriter. He stresses his roots in Southern rock, and the results are of a quality not seen since ""Sweet Home Alabama."" He even goes so far astray of metal and rap to create a number of beautiful, if still hard-rocking, songs. ""The Lonely Road of Faith"" is reminiscent of the Eagles' ""Seven Bridges Road"" with a decidedly sharper edge, and ""Pictures,"" a duet with Sheryl Crow, is just a damn good song.
Some of the more interesting pieces on the record create a vivid combination of both soulful rock and his better known rap and metal. On the closing track, ""Drunk in the Morning,"" Kid Rock seems for a few brief moments to put his soul on display, even expressing his love for his son, before exploding into a screaming metal riff celebrating his love of the music. Kid Rock is nothing if not versatile, and he knows how to use it. Cocky? Definitely. But deservedly so.
