|
Some music takes a while to find us. The first time the needle hits the groove we may be distracted by the clicks and pops, miss the space between the notes, hear but not truly listen. The best stuff is that which endures, the tracks that reward each visit, repay us in dividends we cannot rightly describe. But we understand what we're getting even if we're dumb to express it.
The change in the weather happening around us brings with it a contemplative edge. Rather than deflect it, I encourage you to let it cut in, break the surface, penetrate deeper than you're entirely comfortable with. To everything there is a season, turn turn turn and like that. This is a reflective period when things come to an end and new beginnings present themselves whether we're ready or not.
Many of the releases in this month's installment are slow burners. Initial impressions might even encourage you to dismiss them. Don't. Give them their due. Offer up a fraction of the attention that went into their making. Sometimes you may find there truly is no "there" to be found, nothing at the core except stale air. However, you might find something masterfully subtle, a patina that's enriched with days in its company. Up late and awake many pre-dawns lately, I've cuddled up to these recordings, allowed them to inhabit my space and in a few instances found some very special things happening. In the still, quiet hours of our waking there are new friends to be made. Meet a few of mine...
Album of the month:
Sun Kil Moon: Ghosts of the Great Highway
Gonna take me a while to figure just how good this record is. Mark Kozelek has been on a slow arch towards this gleaming, undisguised slice of beauty for some time. As the leader of cult dears the Red House Painters he conjured up a giant size shimmer full of mournful California psychedelics. His recent solo releases found him exploring acoustic possibilities and doing strange, wonderful things to Bon Scott-era AC/DC and the John Denver catalog. Sun Kil Moon combines the best elements of his old band with these new facets. Nakedly pretty, nakedly honest, this feels like music that fell from a mountaintop, a stone wisdom tumbling down in softly blurred syllables. The guitars bring to mind John Martyn, Leo Kottke, and the Richard Thompson of "Calvary Cross." Kozelek is often compared with Neil Young and to a point that comparison is apt. Except, Young hasn't been this open in ages. And Neil's recent "Let's Roll" travesty exhibits an insulated hardness that makes it unlikely he'll rediscover his youthful tenderness anytime soon. Up-front drums and a general lack of subterfuge move everything along. Where they are headed is a nut I haven't yet fully cracked. That's the way of really great records. They rarely yield up their secrets all at once.
Runner-up of the month:
Jay Farrar: Terroir Blues
Quite possibly the loveliest song cycle of the year. Farrar sings gritty poetry in a hickory-textured voice. Since his Uncle Tupelo/Son Volt days he's gathered an aura of cigarettes and diesel and endless musing full of post-industrial faces, fish fingers, and highways shining in early morning light. Though a (small) stretch, he's not unlike Raymond Carver put to tune, the small things of daily life given perspective and a busker's ease. On this second solo outing the production has become a pronounced bandmate, a nifty texture complicating the "Space Junk" instrumental passages and adding an Astral Weeks kinda space elsewhere. The playing of Mark Spencer (lap steel, guitar, piano) and Jon Wurster (drums) is spot-on throughout, always complimenting the foreground while adding layers in an unobtrusive way. In a country obsessed with fear and lies this set of blues is most welcome. The hope woven into these miniatures is real, nurturing, uplifting. If you aren't already a flag waver for Farrar then "you should seek what you haven't known, see how it goes," as a lyric here suggests.
Jean Grae: The Bootleg of The Bootleg EP
Nasty, razor sharp, political as a Panthers tract, funny as Bad Santa, she delivers every line with authority and a command of language and her own verbal instrument unlike nearly any other woman in the rap game (save for Missy Elliott who continues to rock in her and Timbaland's sci-fi fractalism). Grae can drop a headline-dis like "I'm married to rap like J-Lo to scandals," and then deliver an painful prayer to God like "Take Me." Her mind darts to and fro with a thrilling energy. Trust me, first time around you won't catch everything. Might even give you a scare. Jean doesn't flinch at the darkness. Whatever life she's lived has had its hard, ugly patches, which make their way into her topography. Admittedly, one does miss the creamy flow of her "What What" days with the Herbalizer. Maybe in time she'll find a way to showcase more of her range, allow a glimmer of light into the mix. After the six tracks that give us a taster's choice before her next full-length (due in Spring 2004) there's a 45 minute mega-mix of radio performances, old 12" tracks and various flotsam from her travels. Reaffirms Grae's place as a prime mover in hip-hop.
The Blind Boys of Alabama: Go Tell It On The Mountain
While the idea of a Christmas record from one of gospel's shining lights seems a natural, the actual product, like the holiday itself for many, leaves a lot to be desired. The Blind Boys produce a sound that makes you believe there's a God. That ought to be more than enough for a collection celebrating Christ's birth but apparently not. The flaw lies primarily in the endless string of guest artists, the majority of which fit very poorly with the Blind Boys. It's as if Real World had no faith (funny enough given the subject matter...) in the Boys ability to carry an album on their own. The band, which includes John Medeski and bassist Danny Thompson, is rarely anything but serviceable. Tom Waits enlivens the title track with a crackled charm. Elsewhere though, Chrissie Hynde and Richard Thompson do nothing but obscure the presence of the Boys on their cut, Spearhead's Michael Franti does a decent Linton Kwesi Johnson impression for no good reason and Shelby Lynne reminds us why "The Christmas Song" needs to be retired for a few decades in order to feel fresh again. Whoever put George Clinton and an especially unctuous Aaron Neville up for consideration needs a slap. Christmas albums by design are a temporary pleasure but this one falls short of even that meager goal.
On a brighter X-mas note...
The Brothers Figaro Orchestra: Old Time Christmas
Just the score for twinkling lights and nog, egg or otherwise. The Brothers are Bill Bonk and Phil Parlapiano, who both play an astonishing number of instruments and thus need only drummer Kevin Jarvis to round out their orchestra. Sticking with tunes from the traditional cannon, they've constructed a shiny look back at the days when guys sang through big cones instead of microphones. What emerges is a record you could happily share with mom AND a Tom Waits fan. Like the Beau Hunks splendiferous take on the Little Rascals music a few years back, they find fresh life in conversation with older styles. The Squirrel Nut Zippers tried this once but the Brothers work far better, leaving out the kitsch and showing real affection for the material. Their "Joy To The World" has a light calypso feel that'd make a great number in Bing & Bob's Road To Christmas Island. The minor key piano on the opening "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" is even a bit stirring. This is what I'll put on when I want to watch the tree and soak up the season this year.
ulu: Nerve
Reminds me of the kind of jazz they hawk in Starbucks. ulu, a perfectly solid concert act, has put together a record of mid-tempo featherweights that evokes '70s pastoral noodlers Oregon on a funk bender. The Fender Rhodes and flute are neat but the wafer-thin sax undercuts what power many tunes might have mustered. "Give Yourself Away" adds in singing but singing of some pretty limp lyrics and a misguided take on Bowie's "Space Oddity" is no way to end an LP. "Spare Tissue" is punchy and well disjointed and shows the same promise I'd heard in their live shows. Don't know that I would even call ulu a "jam band" based on this set. Their reliance on vamps and limpid moods puts them at a disadvantage when compared to say Galactic or SF's Bizar Bazaar, both of which whip similar material into more interesting shapes. That's a bit cold, but largely instrumental acts rise and fall on the basis of their compositions and ability to produce a distinctive tone. ulu hasn't done that, at least not on Nerve.
Various artists: Beautiful-A Tribute To Gordon Lightfoot
Having worn out a vinyl copy of Gord's Gold I know the charms of Lightfoot better than most. The great Northern Blues label has outdone themselves again by gathering the cream of Canada's music scene to pay homage to a songwriter far too many folks (wrongly) lump into the guilty pleasure category. This set throws a light on his influence on their own music. For the uninitiated it offers up a bunch of songs they're likely to be impressed by. Everything is played with style, conviction, and flair. It's fun to rediscover how many gems Gordon has produced in the past three decades. There are straight readings like Jesse Winchester's "Sundown" but the real meat is passionate renderings like the Cowboy Junkies' "The Way I Feel" and Blackie and the Rodeo King's rockin' "Summer Side of Life." Harry Manx continues to impress with a delectable take on "Bend In The Water." The Tragically Hip pours so much feeling into "Black Day In July" that I wanted them to return for a roaring cover of "The Wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald." I'm starting to think that all artist tributes should be entrusted to Northern Blues. They avoid the standard lethargy and outright wrong-headedness of these kinds of projects and instead give us excellent reminders of why we liked the original musicians so much in the first place.
Greg Loiacono: Purgatory EP
"Here we are at this emotional standoff. Our tongues are way too thick to swing." Thus opens the first solo venture from this cornerstone member of the Mother Hips. Somewhere in Heaven, Pete Ham smiles to hear the sound Loiacono makes. "And Not Cry" may be the greatest evocation of Badfinger's spirit in the modern era, beating out previous title-holder Chris Von Sneidern (who's Wood & Wire album is the record that should have followed Straight Up). This seven track (and a mono version of "And Not Cry" for the Phil Spector faithful) hits all the right notes; splashes of echo, piano whispers, layered vocals, bells, and dreamy guitars all signal a pop classicist to be reckoned with. This EP highlights how much Loiacono shaped the vision of the Hips, especially in their later period. For those that thought "Take Us Out" was the finest track on the Hips last album The Green Hills of Earth, well, there's more of the same relaxed brilliance here. "Ode To Harvey Schwartz" is so White Album-era Beatles I could plotz. "Mess You Left" has a guitar-strangling tail section worthy of Traffic. I never hear the work of these tracks, the sweat and worry that went into them. What come through are songs of deep pleasure. As much as I love Greg's collaborations with Tim Bluhm, there's something to be said for him stepping out on his own. This brief glimpse into the days ahead is a harbinger of great things. Mark my words on this one, kids.
Blues Traveler: Truth Be Told
Has it really been 13 years since these guys put out their first record? What's sad to report is that almost nothing has changed. Despite line-up shifts, personal tragedies, and miles of living, the latest from these Travelers sounds almost exactly like "Mulling It Over" or "But Anyway" or any number of the sappy slow ones they never tire of. The entire jam community owes a huge debt to this band. Without the H.O.R.D.E. tours and their shepherding of talent over the years things might not be as they are. But it's always distressing to find folks sticking this close to a formula. John Popper still belts 'em out with heavy metal conviction. His harmonica runs are fast and attention grabbing. I find them busy and lacking the soul of say James Cotton, a good benchmark for blues harp. His lyrics remain a bit too flowery to really be called blues. I get the sense that he's a notebook keeper, scribbling down all those little musings most of us discard. Their whole sound always seems too eager to throw a chummy arm around mainstream radio. It's not the full reach-around of Dave Matthews but they do sculpt music consciously slated to be sandwiched between Sheryl Crowe and whatever all-star collaboration Santana is pushing. If you like them then you'll like this. If not then nothing here is likely to sway you towards a conversion.
The Neurohumors: Jelly-Live Jams 2003
In a lot of ways this is what the entire jam scene is all about. The Neurohumors play largely improvised music and doesn't rehearse. This could be a recipe for disaster but the general musicianship, their hearty listening skills, and above all, a strong sense of play, infuse these jams with vitality. "Do-It-Yourself Flashback Kit (No Drugs Required)" has the slop-it-on-the-floor-and-read-the-entrails approach pioneered in sixties San Francisco outfits like Quicksilver Messenger Service. Other cuts bring to mind Steve Hillage, Ozric Tentacles, and that Garcia fellow. A standout is "My Favorite Things," where guest Grasshopper Lance Case brings in his considerable six-string mojo and a swell arrangement. Like the liner notes say "Heavy on the jazz, light on the Julie Andrews." It can get a bit noodly, even occasionally aimless, but that's the risk of being in the free moment. Put this on before your next big show and you're likely to get a "Whoa dude, who is this?" from your pals.
Los Lonely Boys: self-titled
A Spanglish Stevie Ray Vaughn and Double Trouble done by three brothers named Garza. They've got Stevie's slash-and-burn blues down to the firestorm pyrotechnics. Problem is there's too many houses rockin' and not nearly enough floods down in Texas. Impossible not to grin at the crisp singing or the washes of notes ripping over each other. I like that the drummer is named Ringo, too. They seem talented enough to break out of their safety zone of ballads and indistinct production. "Onda" hints at a terrific expansiveness. Right now they're ready to open for Los Lobos or admirer Willie Nelson (who sits in on "La Contestacion"). If they develop their personality rather than borrowing one from Vaughn then they might have something very cool.
Tim Berne's Science Friction Band: The Sublime And
Gnarly jazz, ephemeral glistening, a mechanical flower with thorns and wiry roots exposed, Tim Berne and his very electric ensemble are a shock to the touch. They remind you that you're alive, real, here, now. Recorded live in Switzerland this past April, they blur one instrument into another, leader Berne's alto sax dissolving into the laptop virtuality of Craig Taborn. Sometimes they roll easy and others they dip into high register whistles and cries. The mix from David Torn (himself a superb guitarist) brings out all the right details. "The Shell Game," the title track to Berne's last studio release, is a score to a fairy tale gone awry. You're walking in the woods and suddenly an ill wind blows out of Marc Ducret's guitar and Tom Rainey's drums descend like black thunder. The Science Friction Band hangs their asses out over jazz's edge. It's just the mooning that the stodgy straightjacket attitudes in the genre need.
Dave Katz: Autumn Day
Down home twang eclecticism from ekoostik hookah's Katz. And know what? It's as hearty and satisfying as a good meal in good company. He combines hookah's BIG ROCK with a gentler demeanor. The title tune is woven from stray threads from Carole King's Tapestry, a saxophone from a Paul Simon record waltzing in while we're encouraged to spark a "J." "Amber" hums with spiritual love and made me think of the Creator "smiling down on me" in a most benevolent manner. A few cuts have a Grand Ol' Opry authenticity with a touch of Spike Jones' trumpet blare. Wicked baaaaad guitar drives "A Better Man." See, it's a bit of a lot of things but mainly it's a good time.
Gamble Brothers Band: Back To The Bottom
A mainstream act that hasn't found their way into that realm yet. They combine the smooth jazz of David Sanborn and Bob James with the self-consciously hip swing of the Ben Folds Five. They dabble in ska on "Share," and "Tiki Bar" serves up something that'd sound right in Tom Cruise's Cocktail. The cover of Gary Wright's "Love Is Alive" is, well, not the revelation that Richie Havens' recent version is. These Brothers have tight harmonies, play well enough, have good voices as these things go but it's all in service of what? This is music without much identity of its own, well produced but deeply derivative.
Sex Mob: Dime Grind Palace
Gutbucket playing meets sonic terrorism. Everything slides here including the sax and trumpets. Both the title and the sleazy slink of their playing remind me of the band playing for strippers in Bob Fosse's Lenny, a glimpse of Times Square when peep shows and open bottles abounded. To hear them is to hear Louis Armstrong's corpse get up and dance with this new Hot Fives and Sevens. A visit to the "Blue Danube" evokes the great Willem Breuker Kollektief. Never for a moment will you be bored. This is all the beautiful possibilities of truly imaginative instrumental music fulfilled. Put another way, for those that need things phrased more bluntly, one of THE jazz albums of the year and the best yet from this NYC ensemble.
Cosmic Rough Riders: Singles for Justify The Rain and Because You
Besides putting out the utterly swell album Too Close To See Far, Scotland's Cosmics had time to record another half dozen shimmeringly dandy cuts and a cover that'll give you goosebumps. For those not already on the ride, CRR makes a guitar pop noise that'd make old David Crosby grin. A bit Byrds, a puddle of California sunlight, and aching sugar sweet singing combine for a hearty head buzz. In a just world THIS would be at the top-of-the-pops. The singles themselves are bloody catchy. "Because You" is full of ringing guitars, Mellotron, and creamy lead vocals. One of the standout b-sides is "Carpenter Song," a straw floor nugget bright enough to be new but humming with '60s folk naivete. Their version of CSN's "Helplessly Hoping" sticks to the layered simplicity of the original, a halo glow of harmonies over deft acoustic picking. The rest are every bit the equal of their album cuts and in some cases a tad better. The discs also include the video for "Justify The Rain" and a short band documentary. The single still thrives in the UK and these four discs remind us why.
Vintage Stash selection of the month:
Mike Bloomfield-Al Kooper-Steve Stills: Super Session
The whole idea of the "jam session" in rock became codified with the release of this album in 1968. Fresh from major artistic and commercial successes with Blood, Sweat & Tears and Bob Dylan (that's Kooper wailing on "Like A Rolling Stone"), Al got it into his keyboardist noggin' to gather some chums and see what happened. Run some tape, burn a few, get into the moment. What emerged was often stunning. Mike Bloomfield may be the best freakin' guitar player most people under 30 know almost nothing about. His playing in Electric Flag and the Paul Butterfield Blues Band rivals or betters Clapton, Page, and all the other legendary ones. Thick and kinky enough to make you flare your nostrils, Bloomfield's sound reveals a command of blues idiom most whites will never know. Could be all the troubles he'd seen, who knows. He sang through his instrument and I never fail to be impressed anew hearing him on these Sessions. "His Holy Modal Majesty" carries echoes of Coltrane before it and Phish in the days that would follow. Anyone who says rock can never be majestic need only give this one a listen. Sadly, Mike was unable to complete his part in the recordings (the full story is in the extensive, informative liner notes) so Kooper enlisted Stephen Stills, fresh from Buffalo Springfield and raring to show what a big man he was. The best bit from this new pair is undoubtedly a hip swaying cover of "Season of the Witch," full of threats and sexual suggestion. Oh sure, some of this set has aged really badly. Kooper's thin voice brutalizes Curtis Mayfield's "Man's Temptation." Some honkeys just shouldn't try soul music. A new CD reissue adds four previously unavailable tracks including two stripped of the horns that were added after the original sessions to add commercial flare to what was a fairly unorthodox concept record. This is a piece of history and some damn fine playing to boot. Worthy of investigation for anyone who wants to know where all this jamming came from anyway.
In the next installment, a few choice words about moe.'s Warts & All Vol. 3, the DJ Spooky vs. Twilight Circus soundclash, Carla Bozulich's revisioning of Willie Nelson's Red Headed Stranger, the bangin' new album from Diverse, and the latest from Drums & Tuba, Little Feat, and Paula Frazer. Until we meet again, put something nice in someone's stocking and kiss yourself under the mistletoe.
Agitação o que seu mama lhe deu !
Dennis Cook
JamBase | California
Go See Live Music!
|
