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Rating: All musical genres inevitably present, as an approximation, for the use and consumption of critics and the public, useful for trapping and "framing" in some way the vast sea of rock music (and its derivatives), very vague and undefined boundaries, so much so that many come to criticize them heavily (the most evident case of all is perhaps the grunge, the non-genre par excellence), even going so far as to deny their existence. Well, crossover is another genre that lends itself well to misunderstandings and contrasting interpretations, also because essentially (and even literally translated) the term simply indicates the mixture of n genres (with n=2); ergo it could be said that even Miles Davis did crossover, while among metalheads this term was used to describe the first timid attempts to mix thrash and hardcore together.
Having admitted and granted this, generally most people frame this movement in a precise historical-cultural context, straddling the '80s and '90s, in which that tart that is rock music enjoyed flirting cheerfully here and there with the most various musical genres. And obviously, lascivious as it is (after all, it doesn't keep company with words like sex and drugs for nothing) it often didn't settle for yielding to the allure of a single suitor, but willingly indulged in impetuous orgies.
And it is precisely thanks to this incessant fornication that iconic groups were born which, for better or worse, everyone knows (Primus, Faith No More, Mr.Bungle, RATM, Jane's Addiction, Incubus...), whose sounds (at least in their most successful incarnations) weren't limited to a simple patchwork of styles, but created hybrid life forms, whose value surpassed the mere sum of the parts (and it's no coincidence that genetics also supports us here, confirming that "mongrel" offspring from crossbreeds normally present better characteristics compared to their "pure" breed counterparts). Well, just a bit behind these heavyweights there are realities, alas often forgotten, but often just as deserving or almost: besides Fishbone (run to listen to the double "The Reality Of My Surroundings"), another name to rediscover is that of Urban Dance Squad, a Dutch band, among the pioneers of the scene (and among the first to include a DJ in their lineup), active since 1986 and with this album delivers their masterpiece.
The sounds, compared to their debut, have become even more varied, see for example the final track which even features Indian sounds (meaning from India, therefore don't expect some Native American tribal dance!), but even listening to the remaining 16 tracks one surely won't risk getting bored, as it smoothly spans from the hardest of hard rock, to funk, to rap, and anything else that existed musically at the time (by the way, if you're interested in purchasing it, I recommend grabbing the reissue containing also a live performance of the group in Tokyo).
Having said all that, why only four stars? Well, as great as they are, personally I think that UDS just lacked that touch of melodic-compositional ability which instead allowed bands like FNM or RATM to write irresistible tracks, able to imprint themselves indelibly in the cerebral cortex after just a few listens, or the courage/ability to take their madness to the extreme limits (Mr.Bungle, Primus). However, if you're already familiar with the big names in the genre, don't waste your time and grant some of your time to this enterprising band, you certainly won't regret it!
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
06 Routine (05:01)
How can I see clearer
through that mirror
you're not nearer
than myself
I tried to brush my teeth yes
I must confess
tears just wetsplashed
on tha shelf
I tried to drink liquid from a cup
eat cereal lump by lump
af fullgrown baby that sobs
for his care got stoppped
Routine, routine, routine, routine
Feelin' I mean like takin' a bath with
my toaster takin' a brick for a swim
yeah what's the use of even
(breathin' now you're leavin')
I tried to join tha ratrace
and tha worldpace
stand tha grey lane on tha bus
I tried to find my way to tha mall
at k-mart, I just fell apart
and hey, what's in a brands name
for it all tastes tha same with that routine
Routine, routine
day in, day out
routine, routine
pullin' me down
Routine, routine, routine, routine
12 Harvey Quinnt (03:31)
Harv.
it's hard to start communication
based on things never said but done
Harv.
now I kneel, try to feel what you felt
but deal with tha hatchet
'n tha damage done
Harv.
you stayed reserved mind preserved like fish
your great big lobster was canned 'n
calm
Harv.
guess yo inside spiraled cycloned
your head walls 'n sweated
yo hand palms
Harv.
you got to go
for tha crimes 'n sins you're in
Harv.
little I know about your life payback
never unzipped some childhood facts
or defect
Harv.
some indications 'bout past
bad relations, of your old folks
back in vyder, texas
Harv.
we had some things in common
suicidal tapes we were pumpin'
we kept on thumbin', oh how we hollered
Harv.
sad to say that's our social event
turned in a nightmare in technicolor
Harv.
could have cleared tha air
when you started pullin' hair
from that voodoo doll
Harv.
hallucination, battlin', I could've been
yo corner man, throwin' towels in
now watch tha toll
Harv.
I watched tha trial goin' long miles
grabbed mindfiles when judge axed
'how did you feel'
Harv.
tha definition all meat no potatoes
for females, made you think it was real
17 Bureaucrat of Flaccostreet (05:09)
Speakin' of the brother, and there ain't no other
could be your brother, created by any mother
mr easyway in true perfection
perfectin' each section of life restorin' his action
action wheelin' for feelin', with minute hard pendulum
a fraction of a timetable wheel o' fortune
the clock keeps tickin' 'n tockin', tockin' 'n tickin'
my man is clockin' 'n thinkin', figurin'
ways in the place to boost some adrenaline
pushin' his men to send men on a long trip
long mile, freezin' time with files
taggin'. lady secretaries with ambigeous smiles
gallons of coffee, to blacken the throat
lives in perspective, with a grey raincoat
I'm the epitomy of a perpetual drag
what's sad is the fact there's no turnin' back
I' the bureaucrat, I ain't got time for this and that
I' the bureaucrat, I ain't got time for this and that
Every now and then mr bureaucrat feels fine
havin' the power - makin' me stand in line
peekin' 'n seekin' in desks
ways 'n plays to stress
up his ass is my gesture
showin' feelings is meaningless, he gets pleasure
lickin' the heels above, tramplin' the heads below
deeds of a pauper are so shallow
mr jones owns a house for submission
throw out chest to the wife, that old sexposition
a brain stained, dipped in frustration
rotation occassion destination coronation street
speedin' tha feet for tha buzz 'n fuzz
sir average bringin' home the bacon, nothin' to discuss
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