Customer Reviews

Fast Man Raider Man

5 star:		(9)
4 star:		(7)
3 star:		(5)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

As someone else here said, the best dozen tracks on here would have made a brilliant album, but there's such a sameness about the rest that finding them is quite an effort, and if you're a long time fan it's hard not to feel just a bit disillusioned.

As on Honeycomb, a couple of these songs stand somewhere near his best stuff - Elijah is brilliant and passionate, In the Time of my Ruin is perky and pretty rocking - and if there were more like this I could probably learn to accept that the Frank Black who made Solid Gold, All My Ghosts, and Czar is gone, that he'll never make another record as exciting and consistent as Teenager of the Year. The more world-weary Frank of Selkie Bride, I Burn Today, This Old Heartache and Seven Days is still a brilliant and unique artist.

But too often on Fastman Raiderman I'm having to give Frank's songs and his vocals the benefit of the doubt. You have to listen so hard for that edge, the humour, the personality that's always made his records stand apart. For me, over two CDs, this is just too colourless, and though it KILLS me to say it, if I didn't love so much of his earlier output I'm not sure if I'd listen to much of this twice.

You still need to buy this record, but keep TOTY handy for some light relief when it all gets too much.

The Pixies were Frank Black's FIRST EVER BAND. So that's amazing. Started about 20 years ago. Then about 5 years after forming that band, it had reached it's peak, and so Mr Thompson and indeed the rest of the Pixies moved on - Joey onto the Martinis, Kim onto The Breeders and David into a series of interesting science projects, and Frank Black onto a truly excellent solo career, that has produced very very many of my favourate ever songs (Southbound Bevy).

This latest album Fast Man Raider Man is in my opinion an absolute masterpiece, can't remember enjoying a first listen of an album quite so much, or a second listen which was probably even better, and is especially enjoyed without the judgemental and comparatitive tendencies that many people have interferring with their enjoyment of art. Just stick it on, listen to it and accept it for what it is - it's not the Pixies, it's not Black Letter Days, it's Fast man Raider Man, and it's bloody brilliant!

While others pine away for the Pixies, I really miss the Catholics (the four-piece lineup of McCaffrey on bass, Boutier on drums, Workman (later Gilbert) on lead and Black. The first Catholics album is one of my favorite rock records ever and I was fortunate enough to have seen Frank Black and the Catholics a number of times from 1998 - 2001 (including the best show that I have ever seen - July, 1999 at the Lucky Dog in Worcester, Mass.). There is nothing on "Fast Man, Raider Man" that even begins to approach "Solid Gold" or "I Gotta Move" from the first Catholics disc. I really do not mind that Black has moved on to different styles of music. I just cannot rectify that this is the same songwriter that penned the earlier songs and performs in such a bland fashion. Even when Black was off (as on a few cuts of "Pistolero") he was still an innovative rocker. The leftover cuts that fill "Oddballs" are all more interesting than the `roots-Americana' sounds that Black seems to have adopted at present. There is an awful lot of music like this out there right now, and Black's take on it is not all that unique. Unfortunately, Black has been heading in this direction since the turn of the century. "Dog in the Sand" is certainly superior to "Fast Man, Raider Man," but this was the beginning of the current slide. "Devil's Workshop," "Black Letter Days," and "Show Me Your Tears" are all but forgotten already. I was thrilled to see the reunited Pixies twice on their recent tour and am very happy for them, but Black should be aiming higher than a tired version of Kris Kristofferson mixed with Bobby Bare.

I anticipated that reviews about this record would largely belong to two camps: one, from eager fans so ardent in their affection toward Frank that they might not be trusted to distinguish good from bad; two, from younger or less biased folk who yearn for a taste of the Frank Black of yore and who are disappointed when confronted with such tepid, slow-moving fare.

I see mention of "hot horns" and "hot licks" below, and I had to laugh. Come on. How many records---new and old---have you heard? No offense, but most of this is cold, by-the-numbers session work, pure and simple. Yes, there are some bonafide legends on this record, legends much deserving of our praise, but here they're playing like relics. Nothing wrong with treading familiar territory, and paying homage to the various older genres of pop rock, but do so for a reason. Infuse the old with the new, and give it your idiosyncratic stamp. This is not so much homage as it is imitation, aping through a bunch of saddle-worn ditties, karaoke-style.

FB was my favorite songwriter---still might be---but I find myself less excited by his work of late, and almost near giving up. I listened to this one out of idle curiosity, but not with the unbridled enthusiasm that I used to have, say, around the Dog in the Sand era. After that, it's been a slow decline. Maybe it's the prolificacy. I love it that FB is such a "fast man" in the studio---his discography, I imagine, will end up as labrythine as the Fall's, given another decade or two of work---but this will end up a lukewarm curio in his career. I realize Frank has grown, has moved beyond the barbaric screams and the brutal, fractured guitars. Nothing wrong with that. But that doesn't mean he still can't be Frank. I hardly recognize who this is sometimes. If it didn't have "Frank Black" on the cover, I might not have given it more than a few half-hearted listens.

Still, there's a lot to admire about this record, despite the limp-wristed production. Half the songs are noteworthy and bear repeated listens, a lot more than you can say for other records these days. And there are a few moments when you actually recognize Frank: hey, there he is! I hope he stays.

Otherwise, this is like an unremarkable visit from a welcome friend: fun while it lasts, but not as good as it has been or probably will be. Next time, I hope the friend arrives a little more lively, and with some more spike in the punch.

It's no wonder he looks like he's hiding on the cover. I've stuck w/ Frank throughout his entire post-Pixies career, suffering the occasional growing pains and relishing in his melodic flashes of brilliance. But I'm afraid I'm finally walking the plank off the good ship Francis. It's not even the genre that's turning me off--I have no problem w/ Americana. What's bugging me is the utter lack of anything original here, and if it's one thing we could always rely on Frank for, it was originality. This is just two discs of complete tedium, where our cherubic butterball does nothing but go through the motions, supported by an absurd number of studio session legends. I should have noticed the storm clouds on the horizon w/ the release of Honeycomb, but what redeemed that record is that if I were to concentrate right now I could probably hum 3 or 4 of the songs; w/ Fast Man, no matter how hard I try, recalling any melodies is a near fruitless endeavor. C'mon lunchbox, reunite the Catholics and get back to rocking--puhleeze.

Like many of Frank Black Francis' compositions, I was lukewarm on this album at first, particularly since I thought the double album was gratuitous, even for this incredibly prolific man. Now that I have given it a few listens, though, I have to say I love it (like almost all his compositions). I think this is his best album since the first Catholics album, or maybe even Cult of Ray. Frank is back!

Don't try to compare it with what's come before; and give it time to persuade your hidden, inner music critic - you know, the little flamboyant man in your subconscious with better taste than you. The man who plays the music he likes over and over so loudly - in his little glass-walled room where he lays and watches the activities of strange archetypes all day - that you can actually hear it in your head. And sometimes, if you've angered the little man, you can't get it out. The little man will be persuaded by this music.

Sadly though, when God created the great songwriters of this world with his right hand, it was with his devilish left that he tuned their vocal chords: which makes it particularly difficult for us, the listening public, to appreciate the remarkable talent of Frank Black - especially because he insists on warbling the music himself.

This man is on a great roll, and the work should be better appreciated.

Part of me wishes that Frank Black had condensed this 2 disc album into 1 really great album, but it's still, on the whole, a really great CD. You'll fall in love with these songs.

I've been heavily into the Pixies since "Surfer Rosa", and have been repeatedly challenged by Frank Black's solo work, which always exceeds my expectations. Can't say why I would doubt him, since he's written so many brilliant songs. Unfortunately, this is the first time I would say I come away disappointed. And I think it has a lot to do with the musicians playing on the recording. Many great ones, but more commonly heard playing the mellower side of rock. My guess is that The Catholics wouldn't have permitted Frank Black to sound like he's playing to 40-somethings who are comfortable with an adventurous rocker slipping into cruise-control. Who knows, maybe it will garner him some new fans.

I am a bit obsessive about Frank Black [ever since his Larry Norman cover version] but honest about the vairable quality of some of his efforts. Yet, this double album does rate among the best of his work. It sounds good, it grows on you - even if you come from Pittsburgh. It is not Pixies. It is different. It is great and intelligent music.