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 Frank Black and the CatholicsFrank Black and the Catholics SpinART Records As the Pixies's legend grows, it seems expectations of Frank Black grows with it. More and more people discover his old band with every rerelease and reissue, and go back to find the music that Kurt Cobain once copped to copping. Black's last few solo efforts have, inevitably, been a let down for fans chaing the Pixies's legacy. But the truth is Frank Black hasn't changed that much. All of the elements that marked his songwriting from the start - frenetic rhythm battling fuzzed-out leads and elliptical lyrics - have always been there in one form or another. "Frank Black and the Catholics," with a couple of noteworthy exceptions, is the same ole Frank Black, still wailing away in his garage. And God bless him for it. "All My Ghosts" starts with a guitar noodling and studio chatter, a la Surfer Rosa, then bursts into a double time and meandering, stuttering riff worthy of "Vamos" or "I'm Amazed." The song slows back down to mid-tempo, and the theme almost seems introspective. But then the lyrics turn to a story about angels coming to earth and having giant children. Black might have ditched the aliens for this album, but he can't seem to stay grounded. Who else would apologize for the Visigoths, as Black does on "Back to Rome." Some of Black's best moments seem to come when he plays with the rhythm of his vocals, stuffing a verse full of lyrics and then stretching a single line over the chorus. It's what he once called chopping off the corners. "Do You Feel Bad About It?" works this well. Black somehow fits the lines, "Let me tell what I would do/ I'd consider the possibility of a mistake/ Yeah if I were you/ I would give me a break," into roughly ten seconds of the song. "I Gotta Move" and "Steak ‘n' Sabre" follow this trend, the vocals and guitars overlapping and chasing each other, interlocking like a canon. There are a couple of moments where Black breaks from his own mold. "Dog Gone" sounds positively soulful. For just a moment, Black lets down his guard and his goofy edge, and it's startlingly effective. And it figures Black's first solo cover would be the tune "Six-Sixty-Six." The devil is still, after all, six. The other oddity is "Suffering," which sounds so much like the Who I'm surprised Pete Townsend hasn't sued. It's also notable that Black is finally backed by a cohesive band. Drummer Scott Buotier, bassist David McCaffrey, and guitarist Lyle Workman compliment Black's songwriting well. They handle Black's quirk and fuzz well. A lot has also been read into the last track, "The Man Who Was Too Loud," as if this were Black's rebuke of his ear-shattering past. "I will play softly now/ ‘Cause I was the man who played too loud." But judging by this album, I wouldn't count on it. -Nick |
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