Skunk Anansie revels in harsh sound
That's not to say that Skunk Anansie isn't any good.
The biting, driving sound of their debut release, Paranoid & Sunburnt, at first reminded me of all those World Domination Records bands, like the critically worshipped Stanford Prison Experiment.
But they're more complicated than that, thanks mostly to the vocal and stylistic range of singer Skin, who Sony claims as the only black woman to front a successful rock band.
With a couple of exceptions, Skunk Anansie takes its time, employing a lot of strutting heavy metal hooks and even a couple octave-traversing guitar runs. Occasionally, bassist Cass Lewis and guitarist Ace pull the band into a rave-up, but at heart this is no punk band.
Skin delivers a staccato attack in the album's first track, "Selling Jesus," but seems most comfortable either shouting sneering, visceral accusations or lilting and warbling her way through ballads that seem mysteriously pulled from a West End musical. Perhaps Skin needs to take full control and plunge herself into stylistic hedonism; of course, then Skunk Anansie would be doing '70s metal covers.
Skunk Anansie needs to take the time to write better songs. With the exception of "Weak" and "Rise Up" this album contains nine fragmented, compartmented songs. To its credit, each band member demands the listener's attention in every song on this disc; unfortunately, they succeed in this by splitting songs into sections and taking turns being important.
Track three, "I Can Dream," sounds like the rock radio cut, but with backing vocals, four-minute mixes full of repetition and driving pop refrains throughout Paranoid & Sunburnt , Skunk's joint producer (Sylvia Massey, who also produces the similar band Tool) manages to demonstrate pretty well her ability to unseat Bon Jovi and Metallica from the 1990 hard rock charts.
These songs are about race, religion and isolation, but despite their varied backgrounds, the Skunkers don't dig too deep with lines like "Don't you lecturize me" or "I don't want your charity keeping me down" neatly summing up entire songs. If these lyrics don't connect you to Skin and her band emotionally, then they're not likely to challenge your intellect either.
Technically, Skunk Anansie is a talented group. They're not likely to tear up a joint like the Urban Art Bar, but this show will be strong, provided they leave their producer at home. And I'd expect this foursome to turn out a more unified set if or when they ever make it back to the studio.
This item appeared in the Arts & Entertainment section of the December 1, 1995 issue.
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