Rotation

-- Robert Wilonsky

Various Artists
5th Ward: Original Motion
Picture Soundtrack -- Vol. 1
Fishbowl

You know hip-hop has come to a sad, stagnant impasse when an artistically limited commodity such as Sean "Puff Daddy" Combs is deemed "the king of hip-hop" on the cover of Rolling Stone. Is the music business really so desperate to find another lucrative hip-hop hype that it's willing to make half-assed claims for anyone with two turntables and a microphone? If that is the case, then maybe some record executive should listen to 5th Ward: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack -- Vol. 1 and recognize the homespun rap empire Houston has sheltered.

A demo sampler to major labels dressed in movie soundtrack clothing, 5th Ward serves as a veritable buffet of Houston hip-hop. Since the songs supply background music for a movie about Houston's most ghettofied living area, you can expect a lot of ghettofied musings. True, these musings lack something in inventiveness, but they more than make up for it in authenticity. The 5th Ward attitudes fall into two distinct camps: the Glock-carrying gangsta (as exemplified here by Mass 187, Botany Boys and Street Military) and the smooth-ass playa (D.E.A., Woss Ness). They're the yin and the yang of Houston rap, and even though hard-core hip-hop seems to be teetering on its last legs, the rappers on 5th Ward are there, holding its crutches.

The CD's most potent track is "We Bust Back" by Geto Boy-turned-Roger-Gray-doppelgänger Willie D (who's also 5th Ward's music coordinator) and fellow Houstonian Lil' Keke. In it, they sound off on how the glamourization of warfare has corrupted hip-hop. Willie D, who on this track sounds like he's possessed by the tattooed spirit of Tupac Shakur, delivers the most unapologetic lines by ranting that he "Felt Biggie / Felt 'Pac / But wasn't shocked," and claims "If I die behind this muthafuckin' shit / Nigga, it ain't over." "We Bust Back" might not be in the same league as self-awareness anthems such as "Self-Destruction," but the song makes claims so definitive and over-the-top that it becomes a two-way mirror of absurd hysteria.

Although the lyrics on 5th Ward don't cover much new ground, the music that supports them blows through any synthetic boundaries. Thanks to producer Eddie C, the groove carries the weight, with synthesized beats and solid bass moves making each song strikingly unique. And when you've been in the game as long as many of the Houston residents on 5th Ward, the awesome power of uncensored life experience can't be fudged. (***)

-- Craig D. Lindsey

Wayne Hancock
That's What Daddy Wants
Ark 21

In the ice chest of country music, some beers are colder than others. And though Wayne "The Train" Hancock claims to have quit drinking, that doesn't mean that his music isn't one frosty, friendly tall boy bobbing amidst Nashville's onslaught of tepid brews. In fact, one listen to Han-cock's vocals demonstrates why he's anathema in mainstream country music: His decidedly un-pretty voice, which sounds like Hank Williams with a cocaine binge postnasal drip, is an acquired taste. But, as with Neil Young or Bob Dylan, such singularity only serves to enhance his raw and clever song writing.

And that's what counts. On That's What Daddy Wants, his major label debut and an ambitious follow-up to 1995's critically worshipped indie release, Thunderstorms and Neon Signs, Hancock splashes his Western- swing blueprint with vibrant splotches of honky-tonk, primordial rock and roll, blues and anything musically indigenous to Texas. And though his structures occasionally seem cloned from a single prototype, most of the time they stand vigorously alone.

Hancock's vernacular is consciously hip -- if you were hanging out with Milton Brown 50 years ago, that is -- and his vision as a storyteller is an interesting mutation, as though Jimmie Rodgers and Neal Cassidy had written a Frommer's Guide to Texas. Lyrically, the CD is basically divided between two subjects: women (the title track, "Misery," "Little Lisa" and "Lea Ann") and the time-honored cruising. But as well-worn as these topics may be, Hancock manages to infuse his tales of romance and wanderlust with a bit of '90s humor and cynicism, and the result is a curiously fresh sound. It's like Western swing was only now evolving out of rock and roll -- as on "Knocked Out Rhythm," "Louisiana Blues" or Hancock's energetic take on the Clash's "Brand New Cadillac" (which is like a time-travel jam between Junior Brown and Eldon Shamblin).

Recorded live over three intense days at San Marcos's Firehouse Studios, under the direction of Lubbock's pedal steel/guitar maestro Lloyd Maines, That's What Daddy Wants confirms Hancock's status as a peculiar and sometimes brilliant visionary for these soiled times. Pop a top. (*** 1/2)

-- Rick Koster

Wayne Hancock performs at 9 p.m. Thursday, September 4, at the Fabulous Satellite Lounge. Special 6 p.m. in-store appearance same day at Cactus Music and Video.

Rev. Maceo Woods and the
Christian Tabernacle Concert Choir
Hello Sunshine: The Volt Recordings
Specialty

Today's most popular contemporary-Christian artists tend to soft-pedal their beliefs. They sing about their love for Jesus, certainly, but they do so in a manner that's intended to sneak up on listeners rather than club them over the head. On the surface, this approach seems preferable to overt proselytizing, but in actual execution, it can be tremendously dull: As most pagans, non-believers, heretics and fans of sin out there will tell you, music so calculated to effect a spiritual conversion is generally too creepy to do its job. Far preferable, from this heathen's perspective, is Hello Sunshine, a gospel compilation so overflowing with joy, passion and gusto that it makes religious conversion seem like a party that will never end. Woods, a conductor, singer and organist who continues to oversee Chicago's Gospel Supreme Foundation at age 65, enjoyed a number of modest hits during the 1950s and worked with artists such as the Original Five Blind Boys of Mississippi and the Staple Singers. In 1969, his soulful sensibility caught the ears of Al Bell and Jim Stewart of the Stax/Volt imprint, and thanks to their support, Woods was able to make a pair of albums (Hello Sunshine and Step to Jesus) marked by swooping solos by the likes of Lora Burton and Doris Sykes, powerful background vocals from a cast of dozens and organ work from Albert Medders and Woods himself that rumbles like the voice of God in a really good mood. Eighteen numbers from those full-lengths are collected here, and while some of them (such as "We See God with the Eyes of Our Soul") are a bit turgid, the majority swing with a vengeance: Turn an ear to "I'm Mighty Grateful" or "Think of His Goodness," and odds are good that you'll be speaking in tongues by the second chorus. Christian values never sounded so good. (****) -- Michael Roberts