Breakdown lane

Following an opening instrumental warm-up ("Press Play"), STP dive headlong into the glam-rock grunge of "Pop's Love Suicide" and it becomes painfully clear that all is not well in the Pilots' cockpit. "Pull the trigger on a pop gun/Mindless fools aggravate/Pick at you in desperation," Weiland snarls, though not with his usual blend of sarcasm and mischief. He sounds totally pissed off, like a man one episode shy of a nervous breakdown. As evidenced by this track (hell, half the album) Scott Weiland has a serious bone to pick with the music industry -- artists and promoters alike. On "Tumble in the Rough," he pleads, "I'm looking for a new stimulation/I'm looking for a new rock sensation," with Dean DeLeo's guitars cutting a staccato swath across a power-punk landscape. "Ride the Cliché" puts the matter across bluntly when Weiland sings, "Just because you're so cliché'd/It don't mean you won't get paid."

What's going on here? The ironic thing is that, despite their general maligning by the press, STP are true pop craftsmen. Tunes like "Plush," "Interstate Love Song," and "Pretty Penny" (from their previous two releases) illustrate their ability to amalgamate the best rock and roll has to offer with remarkable dexterity. But if you're expecting similar "hits" on Tiny Music, you're in for a nasty shock. What you will find are some beautiful, disturbing songs that reflect Weiland's inner turmoil like mylar on glass. On "Lady Picture Show" he assimilates John Lennon's nasal croon, with guitarist Dean DeLeo borrowing a page from the Abbey Road songbook. But the lyrics are anything but cheerful: "She hides because she don't know nothin' anymore/She keeps a sunny face/It's locked and bagged/It's just outside the door."

Bassist Robert DeLeo (Dean's brother) contributes the other instrumental track, "Daisy," a speakeasy-blues number performed on guitar. DeLeo's jazzy phrasing shows that the band aren't afraid to experiment with genres they've never explored. Perhaps the most daring gamble on Tiny Music is "And So I Know," which pits Weiland's passionately defeatist observation on love against a lilting, smooth-jazz ambiance provided by Eric Kretz's unobtrusive percussion and Dean's evocative guitar (close your eyes during his solo and you can easily imagine Pat Metheny or Earl Klugh). The sad verses are interpolated with the reassuring line "Campfire girls make me feel alright"; they bring to mind the musings of another tortured artist (and former junkie) -- Brian Wilson. In its own way, Tiny Music bears a strange kinship to Pet Sounds-era Wilson: a sonic pastiche of gorgeous melodies, intriguing harmonies, and emotionally heartfelt playing, with the pain lurking just beneath the surface.

Tiny Music also includes its share of thrash-injected rockers, preserving STP's campus-icon identity. The Zeppelin-esque chord changes in "Trippin' on a Hole in a Paper Heart" are joined by Eric Kretz's locomotive-like battery. "Art School Girl" gives Tripping Daisy a run for their money, complete with a blistering refrain à la early Kinks. And of course the lead single, "Bing Bang Baby," offers up classic STP: a gritty vocal by Weiland, Dean DeLeo's twin-guitar attack, and Robert DeLeo's sinewy bass line.

Comparisons between Tiny Music and Purple, their sophomore release (or the landmark debut, Core) are inevitable and not entirely unfair. The difference lies not so much in their music as in how Weiland approaches the material. Even at his most lyrically descriptive, he always managed a certain degree of detachment. On Tiny Music his wounded heart is on public display.