New frontiers

John Von Ryan and Bossman push the limits

by Michael Caito

New releases this week herald the reappearance of two crafty gents who have made their respective marks on the area's rambunctious musical topography.

Respective marks, nothin'. John Von Ryan and Jeff Toste have always hurtled themselves headlong into the walls of indifference, static energy and a sickening play-by-the-rules mentality which always seems thisclose to croakin' rock and roll once and for all. Von Ryan was a driving force behind Von Ryan's Express, who metamorphosed into Thee Hydrogen Terrors. He's also the younger sib of Six Finger Satellite singer/synth jockey Jay -- who, we suspect, is the "Jerry Prick" credited with mixing on John Von's solo outing Organs vs. Furniture (Load Records 21-song CD). Comparisons between the brothers' releases are easy and thus treacherous. While Six Finger are capable of generating frightening images of human mutation in a totalitarian state gone mad, John's is the more of a low-r.p.m. techno-whitey-Shaft buzz grafted onto the venerable Central Scrutinizer vibe proffered by Frank Zappa.

Sure, there are elements of both the Terrors and Six Finger on Organs vs. Furniture. Maybe more the latter on a comparatively placid day. One tenet shared by the brothers Ryan is an inability to deal with boring people without mocking them, an attitude which, in their capable hands, always sounds lot funnier and ends up more vicious than it appears to be on paper.    

Von Ryan swerves dangerously close to Devo on several tracks, tottering on a thin white rope of buffoonish silliness but always managing to inject a surprisingly strong groove -- bass, drum or synth-driven -- just as you're ready to hit "eject." What's that make him -- Krusty the Klown with a Moog?Nah.

Arch silliness has shown up occasionally with Six Finger, but it's rare on Clone Theory, last year's highly disturbing, electronic Tyrannosaur of an EP from the same Providence label. Overall, on Organs vs. Furniture the keyboard, percussion and vocal work is variegated enough and Ryan's ideas are sardonic -- and funny -- enough to keep the brain easily occupied for the balance of this 38-minute solo debut. Some instruction required, battery included. Not the Satellite, but neither is it a tatterdemalion ripoff.

Bossman is the new trio featuring Jeff Toste (bass, vocals), Eric Park on guitar and Dare Matheson on drums. Their CD release party, this weekend at the Met, should again prove that Toste's can be a riveting stage presence. Their self-titled debut EPon Heparin doesn't represent a gigantic departure from Laurels, Toste's former band. Here it's Park deftly tempering the singer's rage, imbuing spacy, borderline-psychedelic noodles with a Rod Serling arched eyebrow. It's a perfect counter to the wailing, overdriven bass, which in Toste's hands seems to double as rhythm guitar.

And it's not that Park's riffs make Bossman sound like they're skipping tra-la down the garden path. Toste's always been a grinder of a lyricist, capable of hooking the listener up to his venom IV, and Bossman is most similar to Laurels there. "Pillow Biter" is a mesmerizing look into warped, sick rationalization of a predator, "Appreciation for the Team Ego" and the ensuing "A Day's Hard Labor" alternately sympathize with the plight of Everyman while chastising a singular lack of vertebrae in creating a better existence, eked-out or not. If there's a theme it's a call to stop whining and start acting, a nascent feel of empowerment that's not groundbreaking in and of itself but a welcome respite from the oft-doomed characters which populated the Laurels songs. These three guys also have that elusive, keen sense of a rock trio's dynamics -- long a Laurels trump card -- so this EP doesn't represent a starting over except in saying that they've also elevated their game a notch. Ought to sound good at the Met.

CONNIE KALDOR

NORTHERNSONGS. From north of the border hastens Connie Kaldor, the Canadian earning overdue attention here, and her Small Café (Philo) represents an engaging American recording debut. Produced by Paul Campagne (who doubles on fretless bass), Kaldor's soprano remains the nexus of Small Café's speckled, sprawling field of piano, bass, and guitar. Like any folk singer worth their salt, her voice conveys a believable message of redemption while crossing those occasional ravines of thorn.

Those proclaiming Kaldor the "quintessential folk singer" should maybe get a grip, but the clarity of her vision -- whether through the eyes of a careful mother, treasured confidante, spurned lover or round-eyed, lonely wallflower -- remains unsullied and even piercing. No backwoods loggerhead, she. The timbre of her soprano is a rare thrill, giving a mature breadth to her tales that, say, compatriot Celine Dion would (and maybe should)die for. She performs at Stone Soup on Saturday.

MORE RED HOT. Silencio = Muerte: Red Hot + Latin (H.O.L.A.) continues the strong series of genre-bending benefit compilations pulled together to combat AIDSaround the planet. As the title suggests, this one is focused on the Caribbean, Central and North American regions, and the musical couplings are typically perverse and dynamite. David Byrne is even weirder than that painted unitard he wore at the Strand recently during "Psycho Killer" -- here paired with Mexico City's answer to Ed's Redeeming Qualities (or maybe Bongwater) Cafe Tacuba for a polka/ salsa rave-up called "Yolanda Neguas." Fabulous. Speaking of which, the obvious radio hit has to be Fishbone teaming with Argentina's Los Fabulosos Cadillacs covering Tom Jones' "What's New Pussycat?" Rude and perfect. Perfect describes the collision of Money Mark and Los Lobos on "Pepe and Irene;" collision also describes what Brazilian bangers Sepultura do to Bob Marley's "War." Also featured: Ruben Blades and Buju Banton, along with some fiery pass-the-mic Latino rap. This stuff rips, and the Red Hot series continues to roar.

AROUND TOWN. Kilgore Smudge hit Lupo's in an early show on Saturday, feasting us with offerings off their upcoming release on Revolution. Beltaine hit the Met on the 28th, and Freakshow appear with the reunited Rhastis the Cat Tuesday night, and Sammy Halen . . . no, wait, Van Hagar . . . naw, that ain't it. Sammy does the three-lock box trick at the Strand Saturday before Bruce Dickinson of Iron Maiden fame Sunday. Mark Murphy arrives at Chan's, but the sleeper of the week is Skunk Anansie at the Call on Sunday night with Rule 62. Skunk live. Get to it.

Which show were you at, Andy? The only reason Sweet 75's Yva Las Vegas sounded off was because the soundman was obviously napping during Krist Novoselic's new band's set. Also noted, before the goatee'd Nirvanawanna moonbeams bailed on L7, were the twin facts that a) Cobain wasn't the only guitarist in Nirvana capable of writing crazy hooks and b) Sweet 75 still sound an awful lot like that defunct trio, despite advance hype to the contrary.

As for L7, Donita Sparks can be on my team any day of the year. It's sad that most people today are either too afraid or too boring to even compile a "Shitlist," nevermind do something about it. Very sad indeed.