Garbage

Seventeen years ago Garbage released their first album. They were part of the vast repository known as "alternative" rock, which, as time goes on, has less and less meaning. Mainly, it seems to me now, "alternative" just meant that a band played straight-ahead rock and roll, which, in the otherwise horrible music landscape of the '90s, was rare.

Garbage's first album, self-titled, is one of my favorites of the period. The males of the group recruited Scottish chanteuse Shirley Manson from another band called Angelfish, in the always correct view that a sexy girl singer can't hurt. That first record was full of great songs, most notably "Only Happy When It Rains," and "Queer," and "Milk," which highlighted Manson's overt sexuality.

After that, Garbage released three more albums. I have the second one, titled Version 2.0, and after listening to both back to back recently realized that the old axiom about first and second records is true--you have a lifetime to make the first, only a year to make the second. Garbage's status in my view fell so far that I didn't bother getting their third or fourth albums.

But I was reminded recently of how much I liked that first album, so bought their new album, their first in seven years, called Not Your Kind of People. Aside from a few interesting songs, it's a routine record; it doesn't suck, it's listenable, but it doesn't have the spark that made them good in the first place.

Most of the songs are forgettable, guitar-driven rock, with Manson's vocals intoning mundane lyrics. We actually hear "it's darkest before the dawn," and a whole song about "I Hate Love." There's also a song called "Beloved Freak" that has the noble sentiment of encouraging oddballs to believe in themselves and remember that they "are not alone," but it's undercut by an obvious choir.

But, as I mentioned, there are few songs to make the purchase worthwhile. "Blood for Poppies" has a kind of hip-hop flair, with an excellent guitar lick, and vocals that are intriguing yet obscure. I also liked the title track, which recalls the kind of mystery of "Queer." Another good song is "What Girls Are Made Of," which certainly musty have been penned by Manson, for the first verse is about menstruation.

After a seven-year hiatus, I had higher hopes for a new Garbage record, but am merely satisfied, not enthralled.

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