Bonnie "Prince" Billy

Lie Down in the Light
(Drag City)

If Billy had been around when he sounds like he was around — the late ’60s and early ’70s — today he would be even more rich, famous and legendary than Bob Dylan or Neil Young. He is even more prolific but more consistent. While he might not hit the highs of either of those grandfathers, the warmth and depth of his songs and his voice ensure that he will last many lifetimes. If he only had the promotional budget of a 3 Doors Down or a One Republic, he could probably be even more popular than Mariah Carey naked in Times Square just by singing us a song.



Clever is the man who hides odes to naughty sex under gentle, folksy melodies, but the man who once sang about "Your finger in my behind" has very 2 Live Crew-esque ideas embedded in "So Everyone." Mostly, the man has many notions about family and friends, life and death, love and love, and I continue to be mystified by the non-bathing Bonnaroo-jammers who waste their time on Michael Franti or Jack Johnson when they could be enjoying some true beauty.

c. 2008 LEO Weekly

Aimee Mann

@#%&*! Smilers
(SuperEgo)

Being the most clever person in the room is rarely fun.

As a music critic, it’s usually a fringe benefit, sure, but when you work with people who actually follow the news, like at LEO, you’re never the cleverest person in that room — and they never have any fun! Our current president has 99 problems, and being clever isn’t even one of them. Pity poor Aimee Mann, then, who always has to be the cleverest person in the room.



In the ’80s, she was too clever to be the enjoyable Cyndi Lauper or the wretched Edie Brickell. In the ’90s, she was too clever to be fun like Liz Phair or morbid like Lisa Germano. She had a pair of lively records in the ’90s, helped in no small part by collaborator Jon Brion, but Mann has run out of steam in the Bush era. Even the carnival-esque keyboard flourishes that help raise her music above that of Sarah MacLachlan’s can’t do enough to elevate her whines about the housewives of Orange County and other old-people problems. She’s turned into Margaret Dumont let loose in a West Hollywood recording studio.

If you’re still interested in the by-now all-too-predictable Aimee, go back to her '90s records and relive her slightly more enjoyable peak.

c. 2008 LEO Weekly