Alabama 3
Exile On Coldharbour Lane

THE REVIEW

The TV series was the key. We Italians didn't really pay much attention to "The Sopranos", but on the other side of the Atlantic, it became almost an obsession, even leading to editorials in the Economist, which for once stopped focusing on Berlusconi. Whatever one's opinion on the matter may be (and it's not necessary to have one), it's an undeniable truth that the two-minute opening sequence with Tony Soprano driving his SUV through the streets of New Jersey, smoking his inseparable cigar to the tune of "Woke Up This Morning", is enough to make this series simply unforgettable.

Among the many merits attributed to The Sopranos is the spotlight it shone on the semi-unknown band responsible for the song chosen for the opening credits, the Alabama 3 (A3 to their friends). The fact that, coming from Brixton in South London, they chose to include Alabama in their band's name indicates their artistic eccentricity, if not their mental confusion.

If you go further, taking them seriously and dedicating an hour to listen to their debut album "Exile On Coldharbour Lane", your perplexity will only increase. Who on earth could think of creating this mishmash where acid house and Bristol sound electronica merge with the gospel and country of deep America? As if that wasn't enough, these characters, who have given themselves pseudonyms like "The Very Reverend Dr. D. Wayne Love" or "The Mountain of Love", have thrown in everything from the spirituality of TV preachers to revolutionary Maoism, all laced with irreverent sarcasm, akin to Mordecai Richler.

"Skunk-rock" is what critics have labeled it in their furious attempt to classify, and the definition might even be accurate, if not slightly derogatory. Because let's be clear, A3's works are not just little songs. This is music with a capital M.

On the very "Woke Up This Morning", their only true hit, legends have flourished, traces of which can still be found on the web, attributing its authorship to none other than Leonard Cohen, with A3 relegated to the role of mere remixers. Perhaps because it seemed improbable that this carefree group could conceive such a compelling piece, with lyrical echoes worthy of a Cohen or a Dylan.

And what about "You Don't Dance The Tekno Anymore", a country-dance ballad that tells the story of a DJ who, from his booth, watches a girl who had taken amphetamines collapse and die?

To change the tone, it’s impossible not to mention the politically incorrect of "Bourgeoisie Blues" or "Mao Tse Tung Said", filled with improbable Marxist-Leninist slogans, with the latter starting with a long anti-pacifist speech only to reaffirm that, as Mao-Tse Tung said, revolution must come from the barrel of a gun. The hilarious scene where vocalist Reverend Love questions poor Mellie about revolutionary doctrine only to be incredulously answered that Mao preached peace ("No I'm sorry. I had my mind on something else" Mellie justifies herself) and then leading the forgetful disciple to the correct answer ("He had a nice little phrase that everybody should know. Change must come thru the barrel of a gun. Oh-You got it.").

Enjoy this album in its entirety. If you are cynical enough, it will put you in a good mood.