Boss Hog, Whiteout

The best way to enjoy this album is to approach it tabula rasa. Like Achtung Baby getting noisy or Darklands going quiet, this is a disorienting new sound if you've followed Boss Hog through the years. Sometimes such a move can be extremely disappointing and pointless, like The Creatures' last album, which ditched every single thing that made them unique. Boss Hog hasn't dumped their sleazy rock altogether, though; they've just filtered it through some machines. The result sounds something like an album-length Beck remix.

One can't be certain where the urge to get funky comes from, though guitarist and backing vocalist Jon Spencer's "day job," the Blues Explosion, has been following a similar path in its past few albums, getting a little shinier and smoother and shaking its hips. However, this is Cristina Martinez's band. She may have been more of just a frontwoman previously, but she's taken the reins on Whiteout, involving herself in every step of the record, including singlehandedly mixing and sequencing the album. The title track starts it off, revealing a new Martha Wash disco wail from Martinez, soaring over breakbeats. Her increased confidence is evident throughout and she rarely steps back to let Jon in, which gives him the chance to play Flavor Flav, running around his wife and shouting "YEAH!! COME ON!! GET DOWN!! UNGH!!" as he is wont to do.

The lyrics aren't always the greatest, or even comprehensible, but Martinez's voice makes up for any shortcomings. Both onstage and on tape, she projects a fierce sensuality. She can icily coo in your ear one minute and then scream your head off the next. Like the rest of the band, she's obviously having a lot of fun, but she's not going to wink and let you know she's anything other than both the first and last person you'd want to meet in a dark alley.

Whiteout follows a backwards progression, starting out with club music (the full-time addition of keyboardist Mark Boyce makes the groovier stuff even more so) and slowly getting rougher and rougher, taking a turn in the middle at "Jaguar" into a more menacing vein and building to the speeding, growling climax of "Monkey" much like the Hog you know and love. The rhythm section of Jens Jurgensen on bass and Hollis Queens on drums handle each shift expertly. They can certainly stomp and burn, but they're equally at home, as Jon would surely say, getting down. This album may be a letdown to fans at first listen, but given a few spins, it grows into its own fresh new thing, too fun to begrudge Boss Hog for wanting to do a little dance.