By Melissa Fossum
By Lauren Wise
By New Times
By Amanda Savage
By Jason P. Woodbury
By Troy Farah
By New Times
How many of you out there think of music when you think of Baywatch? Liars! 'Fess up--it's boobs and buns and bronze skin, defying gravity in the California sun, that you've got on yer mind! Superfox Pamela Anderson may chirp "watch my water!" at one of her lifesavin' buddies, but it ain't water the collective male viewing audience is watching as the unnatural blonde jiggles off to pull some slob out of the drink.
And, for you ladies, there are the undeniable charms of the dashing, hirsute David Hasselhoff. He may have traded in a talking car for a red buoyancy device, but he threw his shirt in with the deal, too. Ooooweee!
Which brings us to the reason you're reading about an insipid TV show in the music-review section. Because the newly released soundtrack to Baywatch is filled with insipid music. But I have to admit that in a really awful, cheesy way that makes you want to stab yourself in the ears, it's kinda good. I mean, listening to Hasselhoff (yes, some stars do their own singin') gruffly bleat his way through the overwrought "Lifeline," a song with the melodic intensity of a Toyota commercial and the lyrical depth of rest-room hand-dryer instructions, is so dumb it's funny. For one tune, he even teams up for a duet with has-been Laura Branigan. He sounds about as good as former Survivor vocalist Jim Jamison does howling the show's "I'm Always Here." The "song" lands somewhere between bad Michael Bolton and worse Michael Bolton.
But for pure, unadulterated crap, you can always count on the Nineties version of what used to be the Beach Boys to go the extra mile. Here we have Mike Love and the "boys" doing an abomination named "Summer of Love," kind of a parody of a typical Beach Boys song with Mike doing what must be the whitest rap ever recorded.
Dig the chorus, "Girls are always ready for the summer of love." Not "a" summer of love. Apparently, all women--oops, girls--are prepared at any time to step into some form of time machine and return to 1967. And everybody thinks Brian's the crazy one!
Like the endless tide that sweeps across the Malibu shores, I could just keep on going, but I won't. Actually, uh, Baywatch is about to come on, and, oh, never mind.
After Madonna's 1992 strikeout (flop movie Body of Evidence, disappointing album Erotica and overpriced book Sex), many were quick to put the Material Girl on their What's Not Hot lists.
Her unlovable David Letterman appearance did little to dispel the notion that she's bad enough and smart enough but, doggonnit, people don't like her anymore. So it's no surprise that Bedtime Stories is Madonna's first album since her "Lucky Star" days that has been issued without a well-timed, full-blown controversy accompanying it. In fact, in the song "Human Nature," Ms. Ciccone sarcastically claims the way the public interprets her actions ain't her fault. "Oops, I didn't know I couldn't talk about sex" she squeals while Madonna's spoken id voice intones "I must've been crazy" behind her. No parental advisory label came with this album, since it's a universal given that M-a-d-o-n-n-a doesn't spell good, clean fun for the kids. Despite her lashing out "I'm not your bitch, don't hang your shit on me" at her critics, most of Bedtime Stories could pass for a hip-hop Diana Ross album. If Diana was still any good. Most of the cuts are similar in sound and mood to "Secret," her current, laid-back single. Other new twists to the Madonna formula include collaborating with Herbie Hancock on "Sanctuary" and with Bjork on the title cut, which sounds like a savvy update of Donna Summer's "Love to Love You Baby." The set's closer, "Take a Bow," reveals Madonna shedding crocodile tears at no longer being a lucky star, just a lonely one. If all the world's a stage for Madonna, it's because she invited the camera crew along to play Truth or Dare. Bedtime Stories is worth hearing, if only for revealing some part of Madonna we've inexplicably not seen: the part of her that is as tired of hearing about Madonna as the rest of us mortals.
Under Da Influenz
Attempting to prove that it ain't where ya' from, it's where ya' at, Boogie is on a mission to let his listeners know that rap's days of West Coast and East Coast domination are coming to an end.
Straight out of Nashville, he rips across the Mason-Dixon Line with a style consistent of mellow Seventies "Hustle" grooves and funky bass lines. Although his debut is packed with gangsta-style keyboards and thumping hooks and samples, the CD just ain't that great.
The subject matter of dope dealing, pistol whipping and an overall motif of getting high is too thin to label this CD as good listening material. Except for a few scattered tracks, such as the single "Shocked," where Boogie remembers a slain friend, none of the tracks will stick to your bones.
The only listenable track here involves a guest appearance from Boogie's mother on the track "Mother Son"; the old lady busts him and a friend smoking a joint. Just to hear moms curse him out is enough to call this piece fun. Otherwise, there's no worthwhile influence here to be under.