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A Listener's Perspective: Cracker

By Dan Sharfstein

When I was in tenth grade, my pal Aubrey introduced me to the music of Camper Van Beethoven. After listening to Third Album, I was a groupie. Everything about Camper, from the violinist to the song titles and offbeat album cover, appealed to my bizarre adolescent psyche. I listened to them when I was awake; I listened to them when I was asleep; I bought their LP's their EP's, a three-inch CD single, their violinist's solo album, their collaborations with Eugene Chadbourne and all of the albums done by a spin-off group, Monks of Doom. I saw them in concert; I sat in the second row; I bought a t-shirt.

Needless to say, when I read early last summer that camper Van Beethoven had split up, I was crushed. The guitarist, bassist and drummer had decided to make Monks of Doom a permanent thing. And the lead singer, David Lowery, was forming a new band.

Nine (sleepless) months later, this new band, called Cracker, has released its debut album, called Cracker, and, thankfully, it will please even the most obsessed Camper fans. The sound is less quirky and contemplative than Camper's, but it is just as satisfying musically and lyrically.

The first song on the album, "Teen Angst (What the World Needs Now)," is getting a fair amount of airplay on progressive radio stations, and for good reason. The simple message of the song. David Lowery's passionate vocal performance and Johnny Hickman's solid lead guitar make for a great pop tune. With a chorus like "What the world needs now is a new Frank Sinatra, so I can get you in bed/What the world needs now is another folk singer like I need a hole in my head," "Teen Angst" bares it all in the name of rock.

The second track, "Happy Birthday to Me," is the album's most memorable song. The mellow music is reminiscent of Camper's 1985 and 1986 releases, Telephone Free Landslide Victory and Two and Three. The lyrics show Lowery's genuine songwriting talent. He uses extremely down-to-earth images in rambling narrative form. The images are almost too esoteric; but the in-jokes point to something beyond the text: "I was having a good sleep in my car/ in the parking lot of the showboat Casino Hotel/ I say, I remember you, you drive like a PTA mother/ you brought me draft beer in a plastic cup/I'm feeling thankful for the small things today."

And even though Lowery's song-writing is the clear foundation of the band, the other members of the group are hardly potted plants. Johnny Hickman's "Mr. Wrong," the last song on the first side, is a spontaneous, grooving number. The piano, violin and bluesy guitar give the song an old-fashioned, gritty feeling lacking in most music today.

The second side of the album features a number of different sounds. Three songs are light pop tunes. "Someday" expresses general longing while "Satisfy You," which asks the age-old question, "Did I satisfy you?/ Did I satisfy-hi-hi-hi-hi you?" "Don't Fuck Me Up (with Peace and Love)" won't get much airplay for obvious reasons, but it, too, is fresh and exciting,

Two other songs are quirky and interesting and feature fabulous lyrics. The dream-like "Can I Take my Gun Up to Heaven?" --with acoustic guitar and violin--is the closest Cracker comes to Camper Van Beethoven's sound on its brilliant Key Lime Pie release.

"Dr. Bernice," the last song on the album, is quiet, reserved and eerie. The three-four time signature complements wacky guitar riffs and lyrics such as "Baby, don't you drive around with Dr. Bernice/ She's not a lady doctor at all." Lowery is in top form with his mysterious but earthy images: "Baby, don't you drive around with Dr. Bernice/ That ain't a real Cadillac/ It's a Delta 88, spray-painted black/ With fake leather seats from Juarez."

With bold lyrics and musical power, Cracker makes a solid contribution to the current rock scene. It is an appropriate vehicle for David Lowery and the other bandmembers, Hickman and Davey Faragher, who more than hold their own. Although the world has lost Camper Van Beethoven, the creative spirit of the band lives on.

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