FFWD Weekly
Copyright © 1997. All Rights Reserved.
A3
Exile on Coldharbour Lane
Geffen· A wonderful debut album from a truly bizarre, genre smashing collective.
A3, short for Alabama Three (which is odd since there's about 11 people in the group), bare two great distinctions: a) they've created one of the most convoluted self-mythologies since the Wu-Tang Clan - the story goes that the Very Reverend Dr. D. Wayne Love of the First Presleyterian Church of Elvis the Divine leads a rag-tag army of gutter poets with names like The Spirit, Little Boy Dope and I.V. Lenin, Socialism in the Mainline; and b) they're one of the most exciting new finds of the year.
The Reverend and crew spread their word, as they put it, with "sweet, pretty gospel/acid-house/country music." Although the marriage of roots music and modern electronics might not be a completely novel innovation considering the achievements of the likes of Beck, the stylistic and ideological mess (in the best sense of the word) that A3 serve up certainly is.
The group extolls the virtues of church, Jack Daniels and a Marxist uprising while demonizing new age, hippie-types - "there ain't nothing worse than some fool lying on some Third World beach wearing spandex, psychedelic trousers smoking damn dope - pretending he got consciousness expansion. I want consciousness expansion, I go to my local Tabernacle and SING," spits the Reverend on "Ain't Goin' to Goa."
All the while, A3 transverse the terrain of Tom Waits' alleyways, Mississippi Choirs and London dancefloors. It's an intoxicating trip, to say the least.
4/5
Zoltan Varadi
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