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Kurt Weill is the most universal 20th Century composer this side ofBob Marley, and let's be frank--Weill had more chops. A German Jew whofled to Paris and felt most at home in New York City, he was claimedas "a Negro" by one of his lyricists, the black poet Langston Hughes.Now Hal Willner has compiledLost in the Stars (A&M),an hourlong disc of unlikely seeming Weill interpretations. Lou Reed's"September Song" is the most startling. Dagmar Krause's "SurabayaJohnny" the most dramatic, Marianne Faithfull's "Ballad of theSoldier's Wife" the most wrenching, and, believe me, I could goon. This one you owe yourself.
The playful or dreamy or alienated obliqueness of new pop love songsis also chickenshit--an arty way for a young guy to pull the old "Itain't me, babe." So When Marti Jones covers such material, Isympathize--she has to protect herself from evasive guys. Jones is amodern woman, resilient and self-aware, yet she's obviously singing tokeep from sighing. Her solo debut,Unsophisticated Time(A&M), reclaims unjustly neglected tunes from the dB's, the Bongos,Elvis Costello and others, notably producer Don Dixon, who as anR.E.M. colleague is no stranger to obliqueness.
The first album by drummer Anton Fier's Golden Palominos was anart-funk experiment that featured the strangulated Arto Lindsay. Thefollow-up,Visions of Excess (Celluloid), is a psychedelic-punkexperiment that features five lead singers: Lindsay, Michael Stipe,John Lydon, Jack Bruce and female phenom Syd Straw. The musicians areequally semifamous, but this is no off-the-cuff supersession: Despitethe project's slightly clinical air, the playing is powerful as wellas tight, and Fier's attention to composition pays off. If the musicof the Sixties blows you away, you're the listener his experiment isdesigned to manipulate, benignly.
Playboy, Mar. 1986
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