Wednesday, July 23, 1997 - The Michigan Daily - 11
Fair highlights women's music

q Y Bryan Lark
Daily Arts Writer
According to Jewish folklore, Lilith
was Adam's first wife, who refused to
lie beneath her husband and demanded
equality. When she was banished from
the garden of Eden, she returned, the
inaugural member of the "First Wives'
Club' to wreak havoc.
So, the pop-rock first-wife mega-
tbes that populate the music festival
bearing Lilith's name would be vengeful
feminists out for a little male blood,
right?
Female artists at
the forefront of the
singer-songwriter
industry would
string me up and
whip me until 1 Pine Kno
sang along to "I
Am Woman,"
*ght?
Admittedly, these were valid fears for
a male journalist entering the Lilith Fair,
an eight-hour all-female concert that is
the foreboding brainchild of Canadian
songstress / goddess Sarah MeLachlan.
Thankfully for the testosterone
crowd, the atmosphere at the Fair was
much less hostile and much more com-
munal, like Lollapalooza by way of
Stockwell.
* Like patrons of similar fests, the par-
ticipants of Lilith can indulge in booths
selling various foods and hemp prod-
ucts. But such commercialism takes a
backseat to the music here - a good
thing, since concert-goers aren't paying


b

for bad Thai food and free condoms.
The first artist to make the music,
sweet music was Boston rocker Tracy
Bonham, who last year scored a major
hit with the tongue-in-cheek "Mother
Mother." Bonham's performance was
just as cheeky. A classically trained vio-
linist, Bonham used her gifts to kick out
such jams as the melodic "Tell It To The
Sky" and the hardcore "Navy Bean."
She also camped and vamped it up in
a hoedown version of PJ Harvey's "50
Ft. Queenie, the first nod of the day to a
burgeon i n g
sense of world-
R E V I E W wide female
community in
Lilith Fair music. But
Bonham's trib-
Mustc The atfe ute fell on dead
July 19, 1997 ears as she
played to a
nearly empty pavilion and an unenthusi-
astic lawn.
The reception for Paula Cole was
considerably warmer, coming on the
heels of her catchy Top 10 single,
"Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?"
Along with "Cowboys" Cole mes-
merized the cityfolk with a set that
included Dolly Parton's "Jolene" (sister-
hood sign number two) and other songs
that allowed Cole to become her own
percussion section, bruising her thighs
and coughing up hairballs for the sake
of the music.
Somewhat more subdued but equally
unique were the next two acts, Fiona
Apple and The Cardigans.

Pianist Apple, wearing the silver hot-
pants as her all-male band donned dress-
es, got the crowd to groove to her varied
sulky, seductive tunes, such as the
upbeat breakup song "Criminal" and the
trippy breakup song "Sleep To Dream,"
while getting her own writhing, exotic
groove on - on the ground and on top
of the piano.
The Cardigans' set of sweet Swedish
synth pop was decidedly more innocent,
but maintained the melodic vibe of
Fiona Apple, with selections from the
group's major-label debut, including the
sugary sing-along "Lovefool" and
"Been It,' or as singer Nina Persson
calls it, the band's "18-wheel truck-dri-
ving number."
Barrelling onstage with the force of an
18-wheeler was headliner and festival
mastermind Sarah McLachlan, whose
intoxicating stage presence and strong
bond with the crowd was the highlight of
the less-than-hot summer night.
McLachlan wove her magical spell
and angelic voice around an hourlong
performance that kicked off with the
emotional double whammy of "Hold
On" and "Good Enough," from her
triple-platinum "Fumbling Towards
Ecstasy."
She also took this attention-getting
opportunity to showcase songs from her
brand new record, "Surfacing" includ-
ing the veritable disco tune "Sweet
Surrender," with all beeps and beats; the
aggressive attempt to decipher her man,
"Building A Mystery;" and the fragile,
tear-jerking torch song, "Angel"

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The Lilith Fair's Four Horsewomen of the apocalypse (clockwise from top left):
Tracy Bonham, Paula Cole, Fiona Apple and Nina Persson of the Cardigans.

Besides showcasing "Surfacing,"
McLachlan also utilized her public
forum to assure her man-servants that
"Lilith is not about excluding men, it
simply celebrates women."
With brains, bravado, sexuality, com-
munity, music and no (and they mean

NO) male-bashing, the sisters of the
Lilith Fair are definitely doin' it for
themselves.
And these sisters will definitely
return to the idyllic gardens of the
nations' amphitheaters next year, with or
without a vengeance.


Prodigy creates 'adrenalized juggernaut' on 'Fat of the Land'
E rodigy "The Fat of the Land" takes techno Many of the tracks on "The Fat of the "Funky Shit" is hoppin' and carries a enough out of your hatch
The Fat of the Land music to new heights of legitimacy. Land" carry apocalyptic overtones and Beastie Boys sample that loops pro- Other tracks carry qui
Maverick/Warner Bros. With a potpourri of samples ranging bring to mind hypnotic, nightmarish saically off into some futuristic horizon energy that need to be li
from bands like the Beastie Boys, The imagery; this is most likely due to the while mechanically moving you toward an electrified mindset. A
rreue, uAri n' soise, -Au Pringya iwn Iatsi 0,0 ills _ the i-- ti ft'

back or truck.
k punches of
stened to with
few spots get
bi ht-.S bulit

The Prodigy has created quite an
adrenalized juggernaut with its third and
latest release, "The Fat of the Land."
Tight beats and raw cyclones of sound
bump and spin their way into your sub-
*onscious until you have to give in and
dance it out of your system. Liam
Howlett, UK rave-scene veteran and
Prodigy's head musical alchemist, lays
down tracks that thump with authority.

Breeders, Art of Noise, and
Ultramagnetic MCs, a snippet from the
'70s television show "S.W A.T." and a
cover of L7's "Fuel My Fire," the
Prodigy finally give techno moguls The
Chemical Brothers some serious com-
petition. "The Fat of the Land" has a
fleshed-out sound that will ultimately
deprogram most anti-techno critics and
force them to scamper back under their
respective rocks.

P'rodigy s two latest videos, the prema-
turely released "Firestarter" and the
recent "Smack My Bitch Up." However,
the Prodigy manage to pull off the dark
and brooding bit in an upbeat way.
"Smack My Bitch Up" sounds like the
soundtrack to an '80s Nintendo game
that was injected with testosterone and
acid and was then wrapped in foil and
set in a microwave on high. This first
single is catchy and cookin'.

the inaustrai entityinsia ero igy s
bestial mind. "Serial Thrilla" blesses us
all with effectively mantric vocals from
dual-mohawked weird man, Keith Flint,
who asks us to "Taste me, succumb to
me ... ." Grinding ahead is Maxim,
bespectacled in cat's eye contacts and
dark lipstick, rapping on "Breathe."
This track will make all the low-riding,
bass-booming tough guys look like mil-
quetoast saps if you blast this one loud

repetitvein ntermsm uruineas,
they are very temporary and soon lead
to beats that'll shake you out of your
rut. This ain't no Lawrence Welk, kids.
The Prodigy's third album, "The Fat of
the Land," is a textural landfill of phat-
ness. I'd pick this disc up and get rowdy.
Quality techno is here to stay, and the
Prodigy have helped bring it to America
with attitude.
- Chris Felix

U U


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Call (313)971-1970 for details

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