W hen the Liverpool quartet Clinic opened for Radiohead last month, their raucous art-punk came through with startling clarity. I say "startling" not so much because Yokohama Arena is famous for its poor acoustics, but because the sound on the band's debut album, "Internal Wrangler," often wavers between a cacophonous mess and a throbbing blur.
These days, any kid with a Mac can make a studio-quality recording, so we can assume that Clinic prefers their harsher sound. But to what end? Maybe they want to cover up the fact that there are no original melodies on "Internal Wrangler." "Earth Angel" steals the chorus from "Catch a Falling Star." "Distortions" combines half-a-dozen Velvet Underground tunes with The Ronettes' "Be My Baby." Even when the source of a phrase isn't readily apparent, you know you've heard it before. (What is that song the pianica keeps playing on "T.K."?!) And with the instruments using ideas from every corner of the globe, from North Africa to Memphis to Jamaica, it's apparent that, to Clinic, writing and arranging are synonymous with scavenging.