Swathed in rumors of personality conflicts and remorseless drug use, and prone to erratic behavior, Alice In Chains balk at the pop culture pedestal that's trapped so many of their contemporaries. The bottom line for Alice In Chains is neither social nor political; it's musical. Their first two albums, ""FACELIFT"" and ""DIRT,"" helmed by uber-producer Dave Jerden, are bracing, abrasive and sinuous. Their last release, 1993's ""JAR OF FLIES"" EP (which the band produced), represented a rather abrupt change of pace: virtually unplugged, it was surprisingly mellow and moody. Their eponymous third album bears the familiar hallmarks of previous work: the unrelenting rhythms of bassist Mike Inez and drummer Sean Kinney, Layne Staley's distinctive, riveting vocals, balanced between Jerry Cantrell's equally distinctive guitarwork, powerful and precise. But, more dichotomous than ever before, ""ALICE IN CHAINS"" is a mongrel culmination of the hard and soft, dark and light sides of the band.
Much of the time it's hard to tell if they're deconstructing or building up their sound. The only consistent rule of thumb is experimentation--in arrangements, mixes (the band co-produced with Toby Wright) and compositions. In ""Head Creeps,"" Staley's processed vocals chant beneath the mix, then swagger over the top with an edgy, eerie flair that's only a step or two removed from Trent Reznor's celebrated rant. Several tracks (""So Close,"" ""Again"") grind and pummel with a familiar, if somewhat scruffier intensity, while others coast in loosely directed orbits. Occasionally the meandering turns up some treasures: ""Shame On You"" is Gothic and Hendrixian all at once, a fluid, hauntingly trippy track; ""Nothin' Song"" cycles through several abrupt tempo changes and mood swings. At other times, however, the music drifts in lazy ellipses that are ultimately (and unfortunately) a bit dreary. Sunny harmonies, too, beam out of a couple tracks with mixed results. The warm vocal flourishes add a bright, ""REVOLVER""-era, Beatles-ey touch to the sludge-adelia that throbs in ""Grind,"" but disrupts ""Heaven Beside You"" with nonsequitur flashbacks of Crosby Stills & Nash.
All in all, this is an album that demands your attention. Its merits grow out of repeated listenings; its shortcomings, for the most part, are as intriguing as they are baffling. For better or for worse, Alice In Chains remain true to their character, warts and all.
