While many listeners were disappointed with Frank Black's previous recording, Teenager of the Year, I was among the seemingly few who liked it. Critics claimed the album went on too long, showed a lack of inventiveness, and generally paled in the shadow of the Pixies. Unfortunately, that description better fits Black's new recording, The Cult of Ray. The concept here seems to be "back to basics": instrumentation is the standard two-guitars-bass-drums-vocals, while the back cover even notes whose guitar is in which stereo channel, which suggests an attempt at a "live" ambience. (There are, in fact, very few overdubs.) Too often, though, Ray reminds us why musicians move away from "the basics" in the first place: a nearly unrelenting textural sameness makes most songs here blend together into a kind of sluggish paste. Worse, the whole disc is saturated with Lyle Workman's rather '80s AOR guitar work: overdriven and with whammy vibrato wide enough for, well, Frank Black. I'm making the recording sound worse than it is, though. Black's songwriting is still fairly engaging, with his patented off-kilter chord progressions and lurching, uneven yet melodic phrases. On this disc, though, these devices are less catchy than they've been in the past, and in places seem almost forced and rather rote. Still, there are some songs that stand out: the first track, "The Marsist," is probably the best on the disc, even if it drags a bit a good half-minute before it ends. The awkwardly titled "I Don't Want to Hurt You (Every Single Time)" might find a place on commercial alternative radio, reminiscent as it is of a superior Gin Blossoms song (all too reminiscent, though, with its bass-by-numbers). Adding some effects, "The Creature Crawling" and "The Adventure and the Resolution" provide some welcome relief from the disc's generally samey texture. These consecutive songs improve by contrast with the preceding two tracks, the pointless instrumental "Mosh, Don't Pass the Guy" and the inane "Kicked in the Taco." As the last title might suggest, Black's lyrics aren't exactly a highlight of this disc. It's here that Frank Black seems most tired, recycling familiar themes (alien contacts, punk rock, science fiction...) in not very interesting ways. While his lyrics have always been pretty nonsensical, in the past they've often been inspired nonsense (note: the preceding phrase fulfills my Rock Critic Cliché Quota for this review). Here, they seem just empty syllables for Black to rest his voice on. And rather than the often manic voice he's called on in the past, here his singing is, again, nothing special. While The Cult of Ray isn't bad enough to make me wish Elvis were here with his shotgun, it also isn't good enough to make me forget Elvis in the first place--a standard Black's earlier recordings often approached. The move away from Pixies fare into keyboards and unusual textures, which dominated Frank Black's first two solo recordings, was far more successful than this disc's return to standard rock instrumentation. Unfortunately, all too often artists' returns to basics reveal a lack of any other compelling direction, rather than a genuine inspiration within older forms. I'm not ready to write off Frank Black just yet--and compared to most of Commercial Alternative (TM), this disc is pretty damned good--but here's hoping he gets some new ideas next time.

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