Reviews you can use: Urge Overkill, Rave-Ups and Marshall Crenshaw.

When Urge Overkill parted ways in 1997, due largely in part to a reported falling out between the key nuclei of Nash Kato and Eddie "King" Roese, the band already seemed like something of an afterthought. To mainstream alt-rock fans the band's two minor flashes in the pan, the single "Sister Havana" from their 1993 major label debut Saturation, and a cover of Neil Diamond's "Girl You'll Be a Woman Soon" featured in Quentin Tarantino's iconic Pulp Fiction in 1994 were already in the rear-view.  Not much was heard from them in the new millennium, save for an independently released Kato solo album Debutante in 2000. Urge rekindled the urge once again in 2004 and a reunion ensued minus longtime drummer Blackie Onassis. By this time the band's presence was a shadow of their Clinton-era heyday, and despite dropping a satisfying new album, Rock & Roll Submarine circa 2011 it didn't do much to elevate their profile. Seemingly Kato and Roese took another extended sabbatical. As luck would have it, the boys have fired up the Americruiser with a decade-belated follow-up in the guise of Oui.

If a genteel Neil Diamond cover seemed ironic for a band who once had records minted on Touch & Go, recorded with Steve Albini, and toured with Nirvana, you can imagine the shock value unfurled when Urge Overkill inexplicably place a cover of Wham!'s "Freedom" front and center on their seventh platter. Playing somewhat fast and loose with the arrangement, and even futzing with the melody a tad, they casually rebrand the '80s nugget as their own. Further in, they flex discernible musculature on "Follow My Shadow," "Forgiven" and the Dino Jr-esque "I Been Ready," albeit nothing on Oui outright pumps like the band's punkier forays on Saturation. Then there's the curious character study, "A Prisoner's Dilemma," a tune which ponders none other than Amanda Knox - to catchy effect no less.  The record winds-down on a comparatively sobering note with our protagonists extolling bittersweet hues on "I Can't Stay Glad@U" and "Snow." To draw a parallel to the Stones, Oui is Urge's Steel Wheels or Voodoo Lounge, and given Kato and Roese's intermittent longevity that's not a bad spot to reside in. You can check it out for yourself courtesy of Omnivore. 

Despite coming up with like minded contemporaries Uncle Tupelo and the Long Ryders in the mid-80s (and a little bit beyond), The Rave-Ups have been given short shrift in terms of nostalgia and reverence for the Americana contingent they were part and parcel of.  Why is that you might ask?  Obviously, fame and stature can be difficult if not utterly impossible to quantify, so I dare not make even a feeble attempt. As a quick backgrounder for the uninitiated, The Rave-Ups were an L.A. quartet with frontman Jimmer Podrasky originally having taken root in Pittsburgh. By 1980 an early incarnation of the band was formulated with intentions to pursue a punk rock modus operandi. Fast forward a few years with the line-up being fortified enough to enter the studio to cut a pair of independent records, 1983's Class Tramp ep, and the more renown Town + Country seeing the light of day two years later. By this time the band had matriculated to more mature pastures, with a telltale country inflection apparent amidst a more conventional rock ethos. A few notches removed from genuine "cow-punk" terrain, the band made a go of it in the big leagues releasing two albums, The Book of Your Regrets and Chance issued in 1988 and '90 respectively via Columbia.

Tomorrow, recently released on Omnivore earlier this month, marks the Rave-Ups first return to the studio in over three decades.  It finds the quartet to Podrasky, Terry Wilson, longtime drummer Tim Jimenez and Tommy Blatnik picking up not particularly far removed from when they pressed pause in the early '90s, with a penchant for playing it right down the middle of the country/rock divide. Absent is some of their youthful rancor, but a plentiful quotient of pent up vigor manages to infiltrate the comparatively high strung "So You Wanna Know the Truth?" and the tight, irresistible hoedown "Brigitte Bardot." If Tomorrow is dominated by any particular sonic motif it's the slower, mid-tempo air of "She and He," "Cry," and the pedal-steel soaked title track - none of which are outright remarkable or visionary but undeniably pleasant.  A soundtrack for the hammock on a clear 75° day if there ever was one. The closest Tomorrow comes to offering any sort of anomaly is "Coming After Me," a relaxed excursion into pure guitar pop. Though not wholly representative of the small legacy they carved out for themselves in their original epoch, longtime connoisseurs of the Rave-Ups, not to mention acolytes of modern alt-country will find plenty to feast their ears on here. Tomorrow ironically, is available today here and from the label that brought it to fruition, Omnivore.

Contrary to the title, #447 is actually the second in a series of revamped and reissued albums in Marshall Crenshaw's catalog, specifically the records he cut for the Razor & Tie label during the 1990s. An overhaul of his first album for the label, 1996's Miracle of Science, saw the light of day two years ago on his in-house Shiny-Tone imprint with the original LP presented along with two newly recorded bonus cuts. The same premise follows for the reissue of '99s #447.  You might be asking yourself, what's the relevance of that particular number in the first place?  For all we know it could be a closely guarded secret, or an exercise in sheer randomness. If the latter, that arbitrary logic folds in conveniently with said album, given it's an eclectic patchwork almost to a fault. But what #447 lacks in flow and connective tissue it compensates for in stimulating song-craft. 

Crenshaw hasn't been a straight-up power pop guy since the early '80s, but there are couple of concessions here that point squarely to the reputation he forged on his self-titled debut, and it's follow-up, Field Day. The economically acoustic "Glad Goodbye," and what could be #447's most gratifying number, "Right There in Front of Me" (curiously billed as a demo) skew in the vicinity of his younger self without amounting to deliberate throwbacks. "Tell Me All About It" and "Television Light" adhere to a similar ethos but boast a more relaxed delivery system. A pair of instrumental pieces caught me a bit off guard here, namely the loungy stride of "Eydie's Tune" and the even more appealing "You Said What??" I'd also be remiss if I failed to mention that Crenshaw is aided and abetted by no less than a dozen guest musicians on this record including Brad Jones, Bill Lloyd, and even an ex-pat from the E. Street Band, David Sancious.  As was the case with the recently reissued Miracle of Science, there are two factory fresh recordings appended to #447 proper, the plaintive "Will of the Wind" and "Santa Fe" that don't necessarily enhance the album but fortunately don't detract from it either.  The slightly modified and lovingly reissued #447 is available from Amazon and here if you're seeking the vinyl variant.