Around the Cat Is Tamales' Most Poisonous Yet

By Yves von Sterkelbaum
Special to the New York Times Book Review

The Cyanide Tamales have never been a band to hide their talent under a bushel, but with Around the Cat (in Eighty Days) those dangerous condiments have truly outdone themselves. Whether pondering a doomed love affair in "Stupid Girl" or using the playing field as a metaphor for humanity's fall in "John the Jock," this fourth album from the CT's is as cerebral and surreal as even the most enigmatic of Fellini's films.

Five of the nine tracks on this independently-released cassette appear in the Tamales' brilliant cinematic effort, A Bad Idea Gone Worse. Even the least fanatic of the CT's fans is well-acquianted with the turbulent, behind-schedule, over-budget production of the film (this is well documented in Premier, Iss. 56 and 58-60).

However, Around the Cat stands as a testament to the perseverance and grit of the Cyanide Tamales. Good things take time, and the film, while a year in the making, produced gems that achieve their true lustre on this album. Most radiant is "Potato," the final track on the cassette.

The most striking feature of "Potato" is the brash power-chording of axe-master Josh Kamensky, who calls to mind the thickest walls of sound ever erected by the likes of the Velvet Underground and the Byrds.

The other Tamales are equally talented musicians, all playing multiple instruments, including some new and imaginative ones, as well as vocals. David Goldberg's soft and melodious voice dominates the album and seems to float out of the stereo. Dave also plays the puppy. In addition to the guitar, Kamensky also appears behind the keyboards, samplers, sequencers, MIDI-equipped computers and the scratchy thing. Brent Courtney knows how to please a crowd with a baritone saxophone, but his finely honed skills on the bass, the malted waffle and the herring are certainly not wasted on Around the Cat. Matthew Heitz, puzzlingly known as "Flopsy" to those who know him, programmed the drum machine and played a clarinet.

The song-writing abilities of the Cyanide Tamales are always truly phenominal, but their latest album is the best evidence of this yet. Diversity is the watchword here. One of the songs not appearing in the film is "...And the Pachyderms Walked Away," a somber, yet unencumbered and frivolous romp through the Elysian fields of the Tamales' minds.

"Fascist Burrito" should be enough to prove to skeptics that the Cyanide Tamales are not politically or physiologically naive. The next song, "I Whip Cheese," while being the most obvious salute to Barry Manilow to emerge in modern songwriting in at least five years, is also chock full of historico-literary allusions (and, of course, illusions).

Perhaps the Cyanide Tamales finest musical and lyrical effort to date is "John the Jock." Gentle harmonies and the removal of any and all instrumental scaffolding aid in the narration of a tale worthy of Greek tradgedy and pointing to the existential nature of Ultimate Reality. This story of a noble athlete horribly maimed on the playing field is said to be a true story (see the Star, Vol. XXVI, Iss. 14). The Tamales routinely decline to comment on their inspiration for "John the Jock," but with each listen it becomes more obvious that something, somewhere, touched the soul of the athlete deep inside all of them.

>From their masterful songwriting and musicianship to the extensive liner notes and cover art, Around the Cat (In Eighty Days) reaffirms the Cyanide Tamales' rightful place as kings of the hill of Dadaist Rock. Nevermind the rumors of immanent breakup (People, Vol. XII, Iss. 75); like precocious, hyperactive five-year-olds on speed scampering and romping about the Playground of the Surreal, these wacky funsters are here for good. Let's hope their mothers never call them home for dinner.