Recorded Music Reviews of new releases from T-Model Ford, Old Time Relijun, and Dressy Bessy   Pink Hearts Yellow Moons Dressy Bessy (Kindercore) Of related interest: Apples in Stereo, Club 8 Pink Hearts Yellow Moons, the expertly performed and recorded debut album from Denver quartet Dressy Bessy, shines with some truly sparkling moments, most notably "If You Should Try to Kiss Her" and the fabulous "You Stand Here." These songs remind you why pop music has always ruled: One listen to their bright, cynicism-melting tones, and you remember how it was to be gaga over the likes of Britney Spears and 98°. "You Stand Here," in particular, has "summer hit" written all over it. It's bouncy from beginning to end, with a chorus that directs the listener in the same goofy manner as R.E.M.'s similarly titled "Stand." The rest of the album, however, is less enticing. The band members forget that they're supposed to have fun if they want their music to make us as gooey as teenagers. Much of the problem lies in the vocals. For example, while "I Found Out" is drenched in great wall-of-sound effects, Tammy Ealom's voice is flat. Other songs, like "Lookaround," push the cutesy vibe too far, displaying the conceit that playing bubble gum is easy. It's not. Dressy Bessy needs to stop being so polished, loosen up and jump around with absolute abandon. Pop music should make us feel as if the whole future depends on this one moment. When the band is too focused on sounding good and writing the perfect song, it never really gets there. Jamie S. Rich     Uterus and Fire Old Time Relijun (K) Of related interest: Jon Spencer, Gun Club, Y2K Lawdy, lawdy, you just gotta love any CD that sounds like a flimsy four-track recording transferred to melting vinyl, then played on a warped turntable through ripped speaker cones at max volume. A world like Old Time Relijun's--a surreal, post-Revelation nightmare where swamp things lurk in the shadows and only the weird survive--couldn't sound any other way. Our guide through this dark land is Arrington de Dionyso, who wails about beasties and burning with the gut-rot growl of a drunken preacher. Devilishly atonal proto-blues shuffles and muffled splats of percussion meet us down at the crossroads. Occasionally, we're also joined by squealing saxophone and twanging jaw harp. Whenever the music is brightened by a definable melody--as it rarely is--it is quickly obliterated by the fire-and-brimstone rain of de Dionyso's tormented yelps, and we start stumbling down the well-trod path to hell again. Salvation is unthinkable. Damnation is inevitable. The end is nearer than we think. Instead of fighting it, or vainly praying for mercy, we may as well accept our fate, surrender our souls to Old Time Relijun and get our kicks on Route 666. John Graham   You Better Keep Still T-Model Ford (Fat Possum/Epitaph) Of related interest: R.L. Burnside, Bassholes, any bluesman with a murder rap At a typical soggy keg party more than 10 years ago, I lost all interest in the blues. A college roommate who was chasing an English major with a business minor (a belt-and-suspenders approach to the liberal arts that made me revile his ass) blearily mumbled to me, "Sam, I'm just a dirty old bluesman at heart." At that moment I watched the blues drop dead on a floor strewn with cracked plastic cups. Today, thanks in part to a 77-year-old convicted murderer from Mississippi, I'm finally coming around. T-Model Ford is an unapologetic Dangerous Man playing in the grand but largely forgotten tradition of Dangerous Man Music. His simple, bitter pairing of guitar and drums is often more punk in its sparseness and disregard for convention than the noise-informed American-roots music laid down by the likes of Jon Spencer, Bassholes and '68 Comeback. This old man likes to cut himself a craggy ass-stomper, and every song embraces the blues archetype that says misery and wickedness are only an honest song away from godliness and in the end--sorry, Roberto--life is ugly. That said, You Better Keep Still is some beautiful shit, impassioned, deranged and crudely funny. With R.L. Burnside currently burning up KINK-FM, Portland oughta give another rollicking Fat Possum mean spirit a try. Dirty old bluesmen live again. Sam Soule - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Willamette Week | originally published April 14, 1999