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This Issue 11/08/2007

Also in this issue

• 'Lions,' and politics, and war - oh my!
• Get in touch with your roots
• SHOUTOUTS

The first thing Charles "Black Francis" Thompson sings about on Doolittle is "slicing up eyeballs." Having previously fed myself a strict diet of lighthearted, whimsical, gloriously wussy indie pop, I was a little shocked. And what follows this stunning debut ("Debaser") is an album full of abrasive guitar rock that challenged and, frankly, scared me.

Bands like The Replacements also play aggressively and scream their lyrics with reckless abandon, but they seem to possess an underlying sentimentality. When Francis, however, repeatedly shrieks "Tame" or grunts in the middle of "Hey," he basically sounds like a crazy man.

But these moments of insanity stand alongside bouncy Kim Deal bass lines and Joey Santiago's beautiful, squealing guitar lines. Track for track, Doolittle brilliantly toes the line between maniacal ramblings and irresistible surf rock. From the epic centerpiece "Monkey Gone to Heaven" to the calm but haunting "Wave of Mutilation," this indisputable classic manages to sound both chilling and playful at once.