Bettie Serveert

In "wide eyed fools," the first song on her fifth American album, Carol Van Dyk specifies her
continuing identification with functioning misfits who "don't have much to show for life."
That's her gift, and that's her curse. The college radio-heads who loved 1992's Palomine
have settled into reasonable lives. They don't have the time or the spiritual resources to
understand a "freak" who asserts, "Ever since the age of five/I was already awar... More >

A bigger and looser band than the one that made its name with Palomine in alt's salad days--brawnier, brainier, sweeter, more direct. But where once they were the future, now they're near forgotten, because what for their admirers was a game, a phase, or a fleeting passion, for Carol Van Dyk is a life. Alt's college cheerleaders have matured. Van Dyk's just gotten older, embracing soul and skill but not the mainstream: "Smack in the middle of ridiculous places, smack in the middle where I shouldn't have been." Of course, part of their gimmick was how alt they weren't. They've always gravitated toward straightforward tunes and guitar voicings, which is why horns that would obtrude in any ordinary alt-fledged band seem natural horning in here. So please, somebody make me feel stupid and tell me what '60s solo they quote outright on the eight-minute "White Dogs" jam. It's driving me crazy. (Grade: A-)