Rick Johnson, Creem, 5/82

LikeArcheology. Dig ?

When word first leaked that Talking Head honcho
David Byrne was slated to produce the new B-52s
album, it made about as big a splash as Cartoon-
land's first mute penguin. Pairing Barney Google
with such an impeccably trashy, intentionally fun
outfit sounded like the snorestorm of the year.
B-52s fans everywhere took Shirley Feeney's advice
and said grace under the table.

I think it's OK to come out now. Byrne has pretty
much kept his mitts off the merchandise, sticking
to separating and defining activities as though
he had one monstrous orb on the charts.

No problem there. The most popular fear--that
he'd riddle the product with jungle jelly or
Bush of Ghosts scare tactics--turned out to be
dud fear. There are some extra percussion sounds
and special effects, but not enough to make you
feel like you're at a pygmy acidhead reunion.

The runner-up fear sprouted from the press
release that announced the $5.99 list price
of this disc. Amid the economic flak and
"groundswell of demand" figures was a seemingly
harmless closing remark by group mgr. Gary
Kurfirst that appeared in many publications:
"[The $5.99 list] allowed them to be more
experimental from a musical standpoint."

More experimental is one of those phrases you
don't like to hear applied to a record, like
"bold and uncompromising" or "as long as your
arm." It usually means the artist, like
California growers, is awash in avocados.

No need for panic though, as Mesopotamia veers
little from the group's previous efforts. The
big beat is still in confident control. Cindy
still wails as if her application to chiro-
forestry school has been unjustly denied. Kate
washes her keyboards regularly and guitar man
Wilson scratches for his Tender Vittles.

These bombers do dance this Mesopotamia around,
applying their trademark snakey rhythms strongly
enough to rattle the frames of all six cuts.
Byrne's juggled the outfield a bit, sketching in
percussive intros and leaving more air-space for
oddball noises, including a heartfelt zzznni,
the beloved yonk-patooie and the previously
thought to be extinct zeet-zeet-zeet.

Biggest difference, though, is the unaccounted-
for disappearance of vocalist Fred Schneider.
No sense mounting a Fred-is-dead campaign yet
--he still gets his licks into "Throw That Beat
In The Garbage Can" and manages some of his
patented advice-to-grade-schoolers tongue in
the title cut. I can see now that Herman Munster
must have been referring to Fred in his famous
"no water-cooler Casanova" speech.

On Mesopotamia then, Kate and Cindy are the
stars of the show, Kate as writer and Cindy
as singer. Their additional two-ply harmonies
on "Nip It In The Bud" sound good enough to be
their first really big hit, if somebody would
go kill a lot of program directors. And their
wacko conversation about devil-or-angel-food
in "Cake" carries enough sex appeal to guarantee
more than casual "round laundry" status.

Undeniably cost-effective at $5.99.
Dealers: pitch to B-52s pigeons and similar ilk;
others deserve a singing Ford dealer.




contributed by Steve Czapla