What's this from the kitchen of corporate-rock culinaire Dave Geffen? Urge Ñ lite! Half the fat, half the calories and none of the guilt. Well, that's nice, but I ordered a big sloppy Urge burger, so take it back.
Saturation, Urge's fourth album, wouldn't be the disappointment it is if it had been turned in by some lesser lights. It's pleasant-enough, well-produced (by Cypress Hill's Butcher Brothers) hard-rock, full of hooks and lyrics about the trials of modern love or something. But it lacks the features that made this band stand out Ñ no blistering tempo, no hate songs and nobody dies. It'll do well on 120 Minutes and the alternative charts, but their transition from 70's angst rock to this 60's love generation shit leaves me cold. Guess I'll have to find another band to get my testosterone racing. (Pat Anders)
Another truly mind-blowing anthem to remind the world that the 3D's are the southern hemisphere's (if not the world's) finest crafters of pop noise. David Mitchell and Denise Roughan share vocals on the appropriately titled A-side, the best 7" tune since last year's "Outer Space." The earth moves with every listen. The b-side is more of what we've come to expect from the New Zealand band's marriage of dissonance and oddly melodic guitar webs. Happy stuff. Less happy is the band's current unsigned status since their domestic label, First Warning, went under. Though Merge is considering doing "something" in the future, the band has no solid plans for the domestic follow-up to last year's stellar Hellzapoppin. (Carrie McLaren)