Pitchfork

Whenever the alt-world supergroup Free Kitten (Sonic Youth's Kim Gordon and Pussy Galore's Julie Cafritz, in conjunction with various pals, including Boredoms drummer Yoshimi P-We) took to the recording studio, anything and everything was fair game-- obnoxious atonal guitar screeds, off-kilter hook-laden pop, awkward rock-based hip-hop, shimmering Serge Gainsbourg covers. The one constant in Free Kitten's plan of attack was their maddening inconsistency, both in style and in quality-- single tracks might knock your socks off, but the breadth and length of their three albums (two full-lengths, one singles compilation) aren't for the faint of heart. While Inherit is Free Kitten's first album in over 10 years, that aspect of the group sadly hasn't changed.

This time around (with the three lovely ladies getting J Mascis to join the fun on a few tunes), they trade their scattershot genre-hopping for a more concise two-pronged approach. The majority of the album-- eight track's worth-- is taken up by Gordon-fronted expansive blissed-out meanderings one tends to expect on proper Sonic Youth albums from Thurston Moore or Lee Ranaldo. Whether the group takes the scenic route (as on the 11-minute "Monster Eye") or plots a more direct course (via the ominous tribal throb of "Billboard"), it's in no rush to reach its destination. Instead, it luxuriates in waves of feedback and mildly propulsive percussion-- even Mascis' squealing contributions to "Surf's Up" do little to up the energy level. This approach works just fine when Gordon's indomitable singing voice is treated as just another piece of the reverb-drenched scenery, as on album closer "Sway" or the shamanistic "Free Kitten on the Mountain". When she actually speaks her mind, however, things don't go so well-- her spoken-word guitar-hero tribute at the end of the otherwise enjoyable "Monster Eye" is chock-full of hollow portent and leaden poetics ("he starts doing surgery...then he starts strumming slowly") , while the lame lit-centric jabs in "The Poet" ("The New York school/ It's made of dicks") recall Dirty-era Gordon at her laziest.

Those jonesing for a high-quality emulation of those halcyon days need look no further than the four Inherit tracks fronted by Cafritz. Her tunes are full of invigorating piss and vinegar, be they centered around sing-songy rhymes (like "Seasick") or hit-and-run punches powered by Yoshimi's best Steve Shelley imitation (like "Roughshod" or "Help Me"). The dodgiest of her four efforts is "Bananas", an irony-powered pile of sludge (with Mascis on the skins) whose braindead rhetoric ("Monkey see/ Monkey do/ Hello monkey/ I see you") is either brilliantly stupid or the sort of nonsense that makes one seriously reconsider intelligent design. Still, a full album of these rave-ups would be welcome. As would be a full album of Gordon making the skronky granola scene (with the hope that she either chooses her words more carefully, or opts to speak softly). Unfortunately, Inherit tries to give the listener both of these great tastes at once, resulting in a combination that's less like chocolate and peanut butter, and more like toothpaste and orange juice.