F-word-less

Hoffman doesn't folk around

by Matt Ashare

Back in 1992, Cracker's David Lowery summed up the sentiments of a large segment of the post-punk rock audience when he sang the line "What the world needs now is another folk singer like I need a hole in my head." To a lot of people the f-word had come to represent at best an annoying anachronism, at worst an excuse for irrelevant protest songs, new-age navel gazing, and third-rate Dylan routines.

Now Lowery's put his money, or at least his clout, where his mouth is by helping to guide one could-have-been young folk singer -- Lauren Hoffman -- on to firm rockist terrain. Although it wouldn't really be fair to think of her as Lowery's protégé -- she can sing circles around him -- their relationship is clearly collaborative. And it's yielded one of the finest major-label debuts from a new rock artist so far this year.

Fueled by a slow-burning fusion of sultry, not sulky, surrealist confessionals, skewed roots pop, and darkly smoldering vocals, Hoffman's Megiddo (Virgin) stands out from the crowd of post-Alanis major-label women in rock (Chantal Kreviazuk, Meredith Brooks, Fiona Apple). If you're looking to saddle Hoffman with a resemblance to another contemporary female rocker, it would have to be Polly Jean Harvey.

The similarities are most pronounced on the disc's bluesiest rocker, the foreboding "Lolita." Built around the powerful combination of raw, sinewy guitars, a hard-thumping backbeat, and sinister seductive vocals, it brings to mind the gritty sensuality of PJ's Dry. Hoffman shares Harvey's delight in exploring the sexy side of the macabre by mixing a touch of modern vampire goth in with a pinch of timeless blues deviltry. Both singer-guitarists know how to inflame a torch song with so much twisted passion that it sounds as if they were just a match-strike away from burning a lover alive.

Hoffman -- who performs at T.T. the Bear's Place Wednesday as a duo, with herself on vocals and guitar and Cracker's Johnny Hott on drums -- hasn't always been a rocker. Before hooking up with Lowery, the 19-year-old Virginia native got her feet wet playing bass in the folky roots outfit September 67. Last year she released a single on the Boston-based indie Slow River; that was followed in January by an even stronger EP on Lowery's Pitch-a-Tent label. Lowery was then retained to co-produce Megiddo. As part of the deal, he threw in the crack Cracker rhythm section of Hott and bassist Bob Rupe, a few wild cards like Jon Brion on Chamberlain and Optigon, and a couple of instrumental embellishments of his own (programmed drums, keyboards, and, yes, an electric drill).

What Hoffman brings to the table is more than just the alluring strength of her personality and a gutsy voice graced with natural beauty. She also possesses a precocious penchant for drawing on teen angst and foreboding visions without indulging in inappropriate overdramatization à la Apple. She can turn on the hysteria when it's needed. But she's also adept at understatement. Rather than painting herself into a corner as just another tragic teen, she offers an impressionistic brand of introspection, peppering it with sharp flashes of wit. When she tosses in a potentially hackneyed line like "The world's fucked up and we're all gonna die," she first deflates it with the wry disclaimer "I hope you don't mind . . . " Anyone who's grown tired of Apple's humorless laments and/or Alanis Morissette's ironic lack of irony will be pleasantly taken aback.

The disc's nicest surprise is the uncharacteristically straightforward single "Rock Star," a tuneful, guitar-driven burst of candy-coated pop with a jarringly potent center. A close read of the lyrics reveals that it likely began as a caustic, even somewhat self-righteous reaction to Kurt Cobain's suicide -- just the kind of protest-singer fodder the world needs about as badly as Lowery wants that hole in his head. But Hoffman doesn't stand above her subject in judgment. She throws herself into the song with black humor and frantic passion. When she wraps her fevered voice around the line "I love you 10 times more dead than alive/I want to hold your kid and fuck your wife" before proclaiming "I want to be a rock star just like you," it's just too damn creepy to be read as coy. She might have written it as a third-person character sketch, but she's not afraid to sing it as if it were her own sick fantasy.

Lauren Hoffman plays T.T. the Bear's Place with the Mark Curry Tenpin Trio and Jules Verdone this Wednesday, June 25. Call 492-0082.