Reviews of two new releases.   Various Artists I Made It Out of Clay: A Hanukkah Pop Compilation Little Shirley Beans Records Of related interest: Irving Berlin, Madonna, Christmas, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice Just when you thought Adam Sandler's "Chanukah Song" would forever hold the title of Most Whimsical Holiday Number, along comes I Made It Out of Clay, a Hanukkah pop comp that puts a new spin on the term "oy vey!" As if the unlikely combo of indie pop and religious celebration weren't kooky enough, the songs are an unbelievable braid of enchanting, ethereal holiday tunes and songs so campy, they make Madonna's take on "Santa Baby" seem cosmopolitan. The album is fertile with comic relief, as in Kisswhistle's "Verhanukkah," the history of Hanukkah played sans irony to the tune of Elvis Costello's "Veronica." On "Puff Daddy Isn't Kosher," the Rosenbergs posit that Puff Daddy is, in fact, Jewish, to a sedate backdrop of power chords and earnest harmonies. Xavier Amhurst's "The Golden Glow of Hanukkah" is an inspired Neil Diamond impression with a spoken disclaimer tagging the song as a gentile's "spirited revenge" on Irving Berlin for inflicting "White Christmas" on us. The real gems on I Made It Out of Clay are the surprising Hanukkah pop anthems, beautifully crafted tunes that transcend the season. Jumprope's skilled, steamy bossa nova and Portland band Mesopotamia's pleasing study in heartwarming harmonies and arrangement on "Dreydel Dog" are worth the $12 alone. Other tracks by Lunchbox, the Boyish Charms and the Four-Star Movie make I Made It Out of Clay a pillar of fun in a season otherwise riddled with snoozing standards and vomitous holiday cover albums. Julianne Shepherd   Ol' Dirty Bastard N***A PLEASE Elektra http://www.oldirtybastard.com/ Of related interest: Wu-Tang Clan, Ol' Dirty's body of work, the criminal justice system "I'm not caught up in your law/My words cannot be used against me...." --Ol' Dirty Bastard No matter what name he goes by--Unique Aeson, Big Baby Jesus, Osirus--Ol' Dirty Bastard sparks a media uproar. The stormy energy swirling around the brother erupts into actions that leave critics wondering if ODB has lost his sanity. His alleged posse of children--as few as two and as many as God-only-knows--sends reporters searching for the mothers to secure any shred of information about the man. In addition to his many driving-without-a-license citations, he faces felony charges, for making "terrorist" threats and wearing a Kevlar vest (a no-no for convicted felons), in California. A known sipper of firewater, ODB allegedly experiments with crack cocaine, crossing over into behavior associated with white rock artists, a definite deviation from the weed-smoking, Hennessy-drinking hip-hop norm. Writers navigating Ol' Dirty's sea of troubles always mention the number of times he has been shot at point-blank range by hoodlums and survived without significant damage. Then, of course, there were the eight shots NYPD officers threw at ODB's truck earlier this year, a bizarre event to befall a Grammy nominee. These stories appear without comment from Ol' Dirty--he rarely speaks to the media. He does, however, respond to what everybody's saying on N***A PLEASE. Ol' Dirty's sophomore effort skillfully blends the chaos of layered ad libs, a one-line-at-a-time recording technique and dope beats into one of the best albums of the '90s. ODB unleashes his witty, unpredictable talent with frenzied precision. The raw-as-a-herpes-sore lyrics will be too much for most folks to handle. The pimped-out "Got Your Money" made it on the airwaves as a beep-heavy single; the club-friendly remake of Rick James' "Cold Blooded" will probably catch considerable attention from music critics. Yet "Dirt Dog," the harrowing "I Want P***Y" and the around-the-way girls singing "Jesus, I'm rollin' wit' you" on "Rollin' Wit You" are sure to offend mamas, grandmas and everybody in between. Ol' Dirty Bastard has survived gunshots through his physical and escaped police bullets, enhancing curiosity about how wild he really is. Despite his many legitimate reasons for wearing a bulletproof vest, it will be interesting to see if the California court gives him the Robert Downey Jr. treatment or throws him in the clink. Ol' Dirty will more than likely discover what Danny Glover did recently in New York--celebrity status doesn't guarantee equality for black people. N***A PLEASE reminds us that sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying. H.V. Claytor Jr.   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Willamette Week | originally published December 8, 1999