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Opening rhetorical: What man can TRULY say they've seen a million faces and rocked them ALL?
Let's get straight to it. Plenty of glorious sounds waiting for you in the New Year. So, swab your ears and get on it, get on it...
Album of the month:
Carla Bozulich: Red Headed Stranger
When Willie Nelson released his gnarly, complex gothic tale of a preacher who loved a woman in 1975 few likely thought it would endure (or succeed) the way it has. Rooted in the stuff of American folktales (killing, pain, loss, travel), the album resists understanding like a veiled lover, hiding hurt and black deeds whenever it can. If there's a voice tailor made for this song cycle it's Carla Bozulich, with her coyote howls, Meredith Monk accents, and songbird croon. She's one of the only singers one can favorably compare to Patti Smith, the high priestess of rock 'n' roll. Each lays bare all the jagged emotion others strive to hide. It ain't always pretty but it sure as shit is real, human, shattering. I've been smitten with Bozulich since the first time a pal dragged me to see her with the Geraldine Fibbers. My ear has been tuned to her singular muse ever since. Bozulich assembled a stirring ensemble to explore Willie's twisty album in its entirety. So much changes by moving the perspective to a feminine voice, a third party telling the preacher's tale o' woe. Usual partner in crime Nels Cline plays guitar that moves from alien transmissions to the delicacy of "Just As I Am" on to Joe Pass with a twist on "Remember Me." One listens as much for what Cline leaves out as for what he puts in, the space between saying more than most string flurries ever can. And like Carla, he's unafraid to dabble in hot noise if the emotional content demands it. Violinist Jenny Scheinman floats like a specter throughout. As with any good crack at tradition, this encompasses country, jazz, folk, and blues. Nelson clearly approves of the treatment because he guests on several cuts including a beautiful off-kilter duet on Hank Cochrane's "Can I Sleep In Your Arms?" A moving, significant reinterpretation that explicates the notion of a man "wild in his sorrow" with resonant effectiveness.
Runner-up of the month:
Tea Leaf Green: Living In Between
It begins in a garden, a throwback to the sweetness of Jefferson Airplane and other floppy-sleeved flower children. The wind blowing through the foliage lifts you imperceptibly above the dirt, leaving you somewhere between the earth and sky. Tea Leaf has concocted a balm of Gilead--aromatic, soothing, perhaps even a tad healing. It's also damn fine rock 'n' roll. With well-harnessed passion, punchy harmonies, and shiny bombast that'd do Yes proud, they've produced a work that hangs wonderfully as an album. Remember those? Not just enough songs to fill two sides but a sympathetic vibration that sustains. Trevor Garrod's electric piano trot puts a spring in everyone's step as they follow the path laid out by Ben Chambers' bass. There are corners and shadows in "Kali-Yuga" that bring out the best in guitarist/singer Josh Clark (who also contributed the Bill Plympton-esque cover illustrations). Things get a bit too sugary on "Warmup" and "Freedom" but that too fits with the overall mood, which carries a bit of the giddy pastoralism of early solo Paul McCartney. As was once said of Grand Funk Railroad, good singin', good playin'.
Reggie Watts: Simplified
Well look what just pulled up Harlem River Drive! Watts possesses one of those voices, a pure instrument touched by angels and devils. With Maktub he's delivered creamy grooves but on his solo debut he's mining what he calls "New Wave Soul," which owes as much to Depeche Mode and ABC as it does to Chic and Prince. "Movin' On" is a club anthem as yet undiscovered, a remixer's wet dream full of pregnant possibilities. "Your Name" finds him cooing an icicle ballad worthy of New Order. If I were more into the source inspirations this would all work better for me but I ran from this music when it first appeared, ran so far away. Still, he's a treat to listen to and when a lady named Rosey saunters in to sing with him it makes a man dream of duet albums in the ol' Motown mold. More appealing is the Afrobeat rumble of "Fear In My Eye" where things get sticky, nasty, heavy. And elsewhere it'd be hard to resist lines like "When you hear that sound don't be alarmed. It's just the building shaking to the ground." Shake, shake, shake that groove thing indeed.
Daevid Allen's University of Errors: Uglymusic.4.monica
A Star Trek gnome giving you a two-fingered salute, blistering asymmetrical funkin', brine for the skulls of your enemies. This University is eviscerating in a refreshing way. Led by the Soft Machine and Gong founder, there's an English air and rambling logic to this ugly music that includes lost families and lost jobs, humpty dumpty dykes, and bubbles of security. Josh Pollock's endlessly prickly, beautiful guitar is a veritable smorgasbord of string subtleties. He also plays megaphone and produced the whole wonderful mess. "Wage Slave" revels in noisy anthemic repetition with a purpose before reeling off towards a finger bending complexity. There's the gentle, slippery irregular heartbeat trundle of "If You Die," a bang up cover of Kevin Ayers' "Clarence In Wonderland" and an amped take on Brit bar staple "Patapan." Pere Ubu alumni Tony Maimone throws in some nifty keys and Nicoletta Stephanz palms some dorktastic Theremin. The good news is there's a new record with more of the same but different coming later this year. Goody!
Josh Pollock can also be heard on his Six Eye Columbia project's A Million Six, which is equally varied but grounded in a fierce emotional soil. And the guitars are again a real joy especially on the achingly lovely "Joni Mitchell Songs," a shiver inducer featuring pedal steel great Joe Goldmark.
Raq: Carbohydrates
This sure bounds out of the gate. With face-licking eagerness, Raq offer a modern variant on big rock like ZZ Top, Steely Dan, and yes, Phish. The comparison to Trey & Co. may annoy them but many of their tunes, arrangements, and vocals bear such a strong resemblance that it's unavoidable. "TheDownLow" merges a Beastie Boys instrumental with George Benson inflection. Elsewhere they find a smooth feel that hides a twisty side just below the surface. What first drew me to Raq were their cover choices ("Funk #49," "Cheap Sunglasses") and there's not much of that immediate, air guitar charm on Carbohydrates. There's pomp and circumstance and even some nice reservoirs of Hammond organ grind. If they can take their considerable chops and put them behind stronger material I think the spark of their live shows might appear in the studio.
Drums & Tuba: Gas Up, Blow Up
Quite the Whitman's Sampler of styles, each engaging and similar enough to suggest a satisfied group mind. There's a clear understanding that each player will explore the full range of their instrument. That one of these instruments is a tuba, the shiny symbol of Sousa and lederhosen, might give some pause. It needn't. The ambient, Floydian opener leads to some Fela lounge while elsewhere they trundle like a Kansas City mini-orchestra or proffer a bit of German calculator rock absurdism. Hard to believe three people produce this much thickly knotted sound, swinging between a Kingston shuffle one minute and a sleazy King Crimson the next. Besides the aforementioned tuba, Brian Wolff plays clean, textural trumpet. His partners, Neal McKeeby (guitars) and Tony Nozero (drums), manage free form eclecticism. Genre bustin' stuff with nuts, chews, and a few unrecognizable creams. Curioser and curiouser.
moe. : Warts & All Vol. 3
The latest in moe.'s concert archive comes from a Friday the 13th in 1998 and finds them a bit more rough-and-tumble than these days. Unlike the Dead's Dick's Picks series, they offer up the shows for good and bad, leaving in Brady Bunch vocal cracks, guitars playing different tunes and the, uh, witty banter. It does give one the feeling of being there in a big way. But also unlike the Dick's Picks line (or Phish's official live selections) there's no obvious reason for the show selected. It would be nice to know what entrails they've divined in making the choice. In the case of Volume 3, it wasn't in heavy circulation in trading circles and Vinnie Amico drums alone since Jim Loughlin would not rejoin the band until the following year. There's a particularly bendy "32 Things," a slinky "Plane Crash" with Rob dropping his voice to a Johnny Cash low, and a very nice "Timmy Tucker" that includes a '70s Grateful Dead-style jam and a cool reggae section. The last disc is the sweetest including three bonus cuts including a grand "Rebubula." That said, this isn't that far removed from the sets they perform today. Good sound quality and clever snake oil packaging aside, it would be nice if the official live portion of their discography were more significant. Where are the Halloween shows where they go metal or play Dark Side of the Moon? How about some of the gigs with great guests like BOC's Buck Dharma or Cracker's David Lowery? Yeah, the clearances might be a bit tougher to obtain but these are questions a lot of inquiring moe.rons want to know the answers to. Given that a good show can be had with a few blanks and postage it behooves the band to consider the future of this series in a more serious light.
Diverse: One A.M.
With all the talk of Outkast's latest as THE current party record, I suggest this for those who like a bit more chew in their soul bubblegum. This grooves like a War tune but still keeps the verbals dense. After years of guest bids, Diverse grabs the spotlight for some semi-cataclysmic mic destruction woven into organ flairs, ringy guitars, and the hey-now-swoon of Al Green. Producers Prefuse-73, RJD2, and Madlib give your ears a lot to consider. There's a lil' Black Rock, Deltron-style shock-shatter futurism and the electronics of a Frenchie-like Pierre Henry. Jean Grae jumps into the fray on "Under The Hammer" singing "I'm tired of living on luck and change" over the hip-hop equivalent of Bonzo's Zep-best abetted by guitars, guitars, guitars. Repeated listens do diminish the initial "ahhh damn" response of your first listen but that's to be expected on a debut. You'll still be reaching for the white wine and candles as "In Accordance" closes things with super sexy between-the-sheets talkin' that spills clothes onto carpets like Funkadelic's "Into You." An auspicious first salvo.
Signal Path: self-titled
A metal finger stirring the sand in a Zen garden, a squeeze of Tangerine Dream, a bite of fusion jazz and the star gazing of Mike Oldfield and Steve Hillage. The all-instrumental Signal Path shift between sci-fi soundtracks for movies yet un-shot, dub disco, and keyboard figures that burrow into your head. Like kindred spirits Sound Tribe Sector 9, it's a fine sustained mood that all blurs after a while. They'd benefit from more freakouts like the one on "Heavy Walker" which proves that stumbling can be a good thing.
Hattattak: Heart Kid
"One day the arm said to the sleeve, I don't know what I'm gonna do when you leave." With a quickness Feller Quentin has jumped onto my short list of most treasured lyricists. Feller sees things in a much different light than the rest of us, and he excels at lending eyesight to the blind, showing us angles we've never glimpsed before. He's joined here by a crack band that channel the spirit of Zappa without copying a lick. Transposed to acoustic guitars and the freakishly limber bass of Diego Gonzalez (who also plays in the plushly black heavy atomics that is SubArachnoid Space), Hattattak manage the same engaging yet deceptively complex thang as Frank but with more real feeling and less overtly clever antics. In short, mother fuckers can really play. On "Hey Mister" they work a dark trajectory, a spot of Sabbath with whistling thrown in as you pass the graveyard. There's a lot of unexpected tenderness and honest emotional truth lurking on this EP. The kind of recorded companion one automatically hits repeat for as you slide it into the player and proof that singer-songwriters need not sacrifice musical depth to get across.
DJ Spooky vs. Twilight Circus Dub Sound System: Riddim Clash
Through the haze and smoke and flashing lights you sense a shape and move towards it. Before you can make contact it's gone like a fox into the woods. You hear talking in the trees, pushing at your edges, asking rhetoricals, actively manipulating the here, the now. If one were asked to pair up two like-minded cats they'd be hard pressed to do better than this duo. Harking back to the On-U Sound Pay It All Back sound clashes, this album merges the laid back Dutch tenor of Twilight Circus with the bright size life of Spooky's New York City. There are dust storms, gamma blasts, and heavyweight style broad enough to include flutes, kalimba, and those dubtastic horns (King Tubby MUST be respected...). The violin on "Other Planes Of Dub" is classical, distant, transportive as a dream. Everything good about the new generation of dub captains who steer us towards lands that appear on no map.
Little Feat: Kickin' It at the Barn
Not many acts pass the 30-year mark. To achieve even that speaks to a bond, something shared, that transcends any one member. For many fans, Little Feat ended in 1979 with Lowell George's heart attack. They reformed in 1988 and have since been together longer without George than they were with him. It's clear they love playing together and these new songs shuffle around on thick souls. Sure it misses the bottle-on-your-head menace of ol' Lowell but man, they sure can play. Long thought that original member keyboardist Bill Payne deserved more credit. From jewels like "Takin' My Time" from their first in 1971 on up he's been a solid sender, composing a few high points each time out. This latest finds him taking the band on a middle-eastern tangent on "Fighting The Mosquito Wars." Fairly recent addition Shaun Murphy contributes "I'd Be Lyin'" which sounds like Etta James sitting in with Bob Marley and the Wailers. That a featherweight Tejano number follows it is the downside. Things are a bit too polished, a bit too polite in this Barn. As their still vital concerts testify, Little Feat kick it best with some dirt and grease under their heels. There's intermittent sparks here and hope yet that they'll throw caution aside and slap it around the next time out.
Fannypack: So Stylistic
This is the crew that'll take you higher than Manhattan rents. Three Brooklyn girls who like to go boom team up with dudes named Matt and Fancy to bundle up fashion, booty, handclaps and cameltoe's in the rehabilitated beats of License To Ill Beasties while DJ Kool clears his throat. There's snippets of oud and so so much 808 in your face. It's today enough to use a Yeah Yeah Yeah's sample and old skool 'nuff to borrow some Cold Crush Brothers. Cat, Belinda, and Jessibel are orgasmically girly but in an honest, around-the-way way that's yummy enough to make LL Cool J bring 'em pink cookies in a plastic bag. And it'd take stronger folks than me to resist inspired nonsense like "The beats are cripplin'/potato chips I'm dippin' in/I might take sip of your bottle of ripple/grape purple nipplin'." As they announce in the intro, finally some fun stuff.
Modereko: Solar Igniter
A low sax hits that snake chillin' at the base of your spine and it blinks, wakens, moves. This is a good deal sexier than John Molo's work with either Phil Lesh or Bruce Hornsby would suggest. Brewed from heaping spoonfuls of sharp-cornered jazz, New Orleans wiggle, twinkle-toe samba, '70s Jamaica, some toasted Prince, and something vaguely African. Besides his usual titanic drumming, Molo steps to the mic with a weird endearing squeak that's sometimes bathed in robotic vocoder. "Miracles" has his guitarist doing Derek Trucks with a funkier lemon twist, followed by "Allman Joy," which is pure prog rock and not the southern blues the name hints at. Keller Williams guests on three tunes including the space mountain twang of "Travel By Balloon." Much of Solar Igniter is variations on patterns, but they are engrossing patterns. Taken track by track, followed right up to the rattle on the tail, this is a nice surprise.
Vintage Stash selection of the month:
Linda Perhacs: Parallelograms
I'm spacing out, I'm seeing silences between leaves... Never cease to be amazed at the incredible records just waiting to be discovered, an endless line of talented artists who might only have put the genie in the bottle once or twice. From out of the fog of 1970 emerges Linda Perhacs with her quadrilateral acoustic psychedelia, unearthly lovely as primo Pentangle, Joni, or any other Topanga Canyon kid from the same period. There's a gentle magic conjured by her innocence and utter lack of commercial premeditation. The word "exquisite" can rightly be used in reference to pieces like "Morning Colors" and "Chimacum Rain." The Wild Places label has just reissued every note Perhacs ever recorded which now includes the original release and some demos and a lost track. Thanks are due to Michael Piper for seeking out Linda and her dubs of the original masters. Things this splendid shouldn't slip through the cracks.
In our next action packed episode, new albums from Granola Funk Express, Hamsa Lila, Estradasphere, Air, cLOUDDEAD, Habib Koite, and Dengue Fever. Don't worry if all the names aren't familiar. They will be by and by. Thanks for tuning in. Support our sponsors and don't touch that dial...
Amore per amarlo, bambino!
Dennis Cook
JamBase | Oakland
Go See Live Music!
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