No. 231
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THIS
SUMMER’S DOWNLOADING PROSPECTS
Every
time we set out to concoct one of our musical surveys, each of us is always
knocked out by how much wonderful music is out there and how many different
kinds of music make the grade. When our picks come together, with an absolute
minimum of overlap (and not by assignment), the impression is deepened and
reinforced.
Dave Marsh writes: Bang Bang
Boom Boom, Beth Hart (Provogue)—Beth Hart plays out the Janis Joplin role
with important variations: She overcame her self-destructive habits, she writes,
and while she had a hit years ago (“L.A. Song,” itself pretty great) she’s never
been put on a pedestal. Hart growls as deep as Judy Henske and she could match
Janis shriek for shriek (and knows when to turn it on, and when not to), but
that tremble is all her own.
If Hart really
resembles anybody it might be Etta James, not because they sound alike but
because they’ve both been through the worst and let it show without reveling in
the muck or pretending that just surviving adds up to all that much. “You say you ain’t sick / but every
little bit of the living hurts,” she tells a loved one before offering to carry
the weight. “There in Your Heart” could be sung from God to human, no-saint to a
trapped sinner, mother to child, lover to ex. Anybody to anybody.
Bang Bang Boom
Boom is one of the best records of 2013, a
powerhouse, astringent,
blues-drenched account of lives at the edge—not so much of the edge of
death as of disappearance, offering an assortment of glimpses from the maw of
all the wrong kinds of work and love. It’s not like there’s no sense of fun here
(not with lines like “I found me a better man / He butters my pan better than
you can”) but the exuberant moments are earned, not contrived. In a time when
almost no one makes albums that are complete, deliberate, cohesive statements: Bang Bang Boom
Boom.
On
the bonus track, she does a rendition of Etta’s “I’d Rather Go Blind,”a task
that I ordinarily wouldn't wish on any singer I loved, especially alongside Jeff
Beck at his best. Hart turns on the power gradually, creating a slow burn where
a lesser singer would flame out after a chorus. She does it with the same
clarity of vision that drives the rest of the album. Beck's guitar solo feels
like an ovation for the depth she's touched. Or maybe I'm projecting.
*****
Elements of Life (Fania/Codigo Music)—Once again
Louie Vega--the most prolific music remixer in history, one half of Masters at
Work, nephew and musical descendant of legendary salsa singer Hector Lavoe—has
assembled a large crew of musicians to help him realize his fantastical vision
of dance music without boundaries, a world without categories. The highlights of
disc one include “Children of the World,” which strips away the mawkishness of
every charity appeal you’ve ever heard; “Sodade,” an invitation to enjoy the
beautiful side of our Afro-Atlantic history; and the warm breeze of “Harlem
River Drive,” which uses sonic sheen to melt your heart. Disc two begins with
“EOL Soulfrito” and within a minute you’re lost down the rabbit hole of a
“suite” that is a journey through,
but not at all a linear history of, salsa, disco, house music, and Vega’s own
blend of them all. Ruben Blades parachutes in at one point and then around the
21-minute mark Cheo Feliciano appears to lead a remake of his classic “Anacoana”
and the race is on to the finish. “EOL Soulfrito” totals 34 minutes but it has
not one moment’s bloat—it lifts you into a realm where time has no meaning. In
some sense, it may be Louie Vega’s current take on the long twelve inch remixes
of a certain era, but it is light years beyond that. An astounding
achievement.
Such Hot Blood, Airborne Toxic Event
(Island)—Based on the quality of ATE’s songs and singing, of their instrumental
virtuosity and its cohesion into a readily identifiable sound, the electric
insurgency that multiples the power of the songs’ antiwar, pro-kid ideology,
their willingness to tackle big dark stuff (like death, a preoccupation here,
not for the first time) and the brightest lights they can find (like, uh, life
and that’s all the time) , they’re one of the great contemporary rock bands.
Like all the rest, though, they’ve made do with a largish cult. But if you don’t
know about Airborne Toxic Event and nevertheless once upon a time expected the
best rock to be driven by intelligence as well as flash, complexity and
simplicity at the same time, to mix a sense of triumph and defeat into a
bittersweet damned delight, you probably need to get hold of this. It’ll get
hold of you quick enough after that. It might even return some of the youthful
energy you’ve been missing.
Apocalypse, Thundercat
(Brainfeeder)—The son and brother of renowned jazz drummers, Stephen Bruner (aka
Thundercat) is known for his chops on bass and has toured with the likes of
Suicidal Tendencies and Stanley Clarke and worked with rapper Earl Sweatshirt.
But there’s little showing off here. The focus is on his near-falsetto vocals as
beats and keyboards work and prod the edges to concoct a sweet center (“Can you
hear the sound of infinity?”). Only “Oh Sheit It’s X”—a hedonistic club jam that
a time machine could make into a teenage Prince fronting Return to Forever—is
musically catchy in the traditional sense but Thundercat’s music is all heart
and soul, not esoteric homework. The spirit of magic and loss stemming from the
death last year at age 22 of prime collaborator Austin Peralta hovers
throughout, fully emerging in the final track, a beautiful tribute to
friendship: “A Message For Austin/Praise the Lord/Enter the
Void.”
Darkly Sparkly, Tiny Horse
(tinyhorsemusic.com)--One of Kansas City’s biggest voices—that of the
one-of-a-kind organizer, bandleader and encyclopedia of other women’s voices,
Abigail Henderson—has been ravaged by a five-year fight with cancer. Still,
Henderson uses her new voice to make some of the most beautiful music of her
career. The quiet struggles in these generally spare, delicate tracks haunt but
push for new ground. “I’m no ghost,” Henderson cries early on. By the rocker
“Wind & Rain,” she’s left no doubt.
The Revolution Begins: The Flying Dutchman Masters,
Gil Scott-Heron (BGP, UK)—Gil Scott-Heron did almost as much to invent
post-Sly black rock as George Clinton and at least as much to force the
emergence of rap and hip-hop as the Last Poets. He was the closest popular music
came to reflecting the Black Arts Movement, and these tracks are probably the
most coherent expression of the jazz-rock aesthetic ever made. (Maybe that last
is only because Miles Davis didn’t sing, but... well, Miles didn’t.) His energy
is wild but not just furious. His abiding respect for John Coltrane, Billie
Holiday, black poets and the people of the ghetto is abundant here, as is his
insistence on calling the white supremacist culture on its bullshit. All this is
beautifully expressed over three discs that include his first version of “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,”
“Pieces of a Man,” “Home Is Where the Hatred Is,” and the ever-relevant “No
Knock.” The alternate version of his first album, Free Will, feels a bit like padding. But
“Artificialness,” the single he made with Pretty Purdie and the Playboys, is
revelatory.
Everyman, Laura Tsaggaris (Overtime)--The flexing
muscle of the title track answers blind power with burning guitar and a list of
demands, advising, “Don’t make me call you out . . . . we’re here to help you if
we can.” That mix of personal and political is typical of this D.C.-based
songwriter’s work, alongside a notion that love demands an ongoing fight. Such
contradictions allow the edgy confession “I Am Not In Control” to shine like a
punchy summer single, horns heralding new possibility. On the rocking
centerpiece, "Ask For It," Tsaggaris chides, “Ain’t no good reason why people
should read your mind,” before calling her listeners to come on up and stake
their claim.
Bionic Metal, Mic Crenshaw (Globalfam.org)—“Who’s
this black man doing rock & roll?” asks veteran Portland rapper Mic
Crenshaw. He’s the guy who takes the likes of Billy Squire and Bachman Turner
Overdrive and crams it into tracks until it mutates into a perfect bed for his
skilled flow at the mic while adding his own engaging pop sensibility in order
to help him convey blistering revolutionary manifestos with a love of family and
fun, especially riding Harleys. “Free my mind, let it ride.” Check out the video
at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M16-XjuVXNA.
American Kid, Patty Griffin (New West)—It’s framed
as a meditation on the loss of her father, and several songs do touch on his
life and passing, especially “Go Where You Want to Go” and “Gonna Miss You When You’re Gone”--and
particularly boisterously on “Irish
Boy.” But as a whole, American Kid
speaks to the issues that have always animated Griffin: Racism in the
harrowing “Ohio,” about a runaway slave; human brutality on “Wild Old Dog,”
possibly the saddest song she or anyone else ever came up with; the agony of
romantic error, on “That Kind of Lonely,” an exhausted commentary on the kind of
party you definitely don’t want to wind up at: “Everyone in this room wanted to
be somewhere else.” So yeah, Robert Plant sings on a few songs, but that ain’t
the point. He’s there because Patty Griffin is one of our great musical
treasures, as writer and singer. That’s why you should be there, too.
Vives en Mi, La Maquinaria Nortena (Azteca)--This
Chihuahua-style (hard driving sax with that accordion) norteno band keeps the
beats strong and the rhythms at a gallop (with lots of drum fills, splashes of
cymbal and flashes of guitar and accordion), even on what you might call the
slow songs. And though the themes stick close to broken hearts, the whole wide
world of causes feels quietly understated throughout, nowhere more poignantly
than the album centerpiece, “Ya Nada Paso.”
Trials and Tribulations, Ace Hood (Cash
Money)--Three days after George Zimmerman’s acquittal, Florida rapper Ace Hood’s
new album declares “God bless Trayvon Martin/I’m in my hoodie/Another innocent
young brother who met a bully” while linking that crime to a whole list of ways
“the government [tries] to disguise truth”—from the real reasons for Section 8,
food stamps, drop outs and unemployment to the unresolved meanings of Emmett
Till’s murder and Martin Luther King’s dreams. Subtly rich layers of sound stay
focused on a lean, muscular delivery, emphasizing Hood’s lyric spitting as a
class conscious war with the system. That said, Hood also makes this album
extraordinarily intimate—returning often to the loss of his daughter, Lyric, and
his dreams for his surviving daughter, Sailor, and paying loving tribute to his
mother (and mothers everywhere) with Betty Wright’s testifying response all but
stealing the show. That moment alone all but compensates for, early on, one of
the ugliest bits of misogyny ever dropped by Lil’ Wayne.
Above,
Mad Season
(Columbia Legacy Deluxe Edition)—Legendary grunge group featuring Mike McCready,
Layne Staley, John “Baker” Saunders and Barrett Martin. You could make a case
that Staley, one of the greatest hard rock singers, never sounded better than he
does here, a gorgeous last gasp from the depths of his self-inflicted doom.
McCready is McCready, already the inviolate rock’n’roller at the heart of Pearl
Jam, and Martin helped put the groove in grunge with Screaming Trees. Bassist
John “Baker” Saunders, almost forty years old when the others were still in
their 20s, a bassist good enough for Hubert Sumlin’s band, held it all together.
Above, their only studio album, gave
them a hit single in “River of Deceit.” What this deluxe edition has to offer is
something else: Mad Season live at the Moore, a Seattle theater, not just on
video but also on disc. There are moments here that blow the roof off your
expectations, no matter how high they might be, particularly Staley’s “I Don’t
Wanna Be A Soldier,” far better than what they caught in the studio for the John
Lennon tribute album. The music is grunge basking in its moment of glory and
pulling itself apart at the same time. This is some of the greatest music made
in the ‘90s.
Small Town Talk, Shannon McNally (Sacred Sumac
Music)--McNally, unofficial current queen of the New Orleans scene, made this
album as a tribute to the songs and style of the greater writer-performer Bobby
Charles, and she covers almost all his important work, minus “See You Later
Alligator.” It wasn’t intended as an elegy, but try convincing yourself of that
when you hear “I Must Be in a Good Place Now,” the finale and a love song at all
sorts of levels. Other gems include the title track, “Love in the Worst Degree,”
“Street People” and “Homemade Songs.” This is a three-fold triumph—for McNally,
Charles and the arranger, Dr. John. And just like that, Shannon McNally finally
has an album as good as her live performances.
The Truth About Love, Pink (RCA)--This album
fights for love, while acknowledging—in its rollicking title track—“It can turn
you into a son-of-a-bitch, man.” Though messy and complex, the wide variety of
problems tackled here pale next to the anti-suicide cry,” The Great Escape,”
co-writer Dan Wilson’s piano all but making it an answer record to “Streets of
Fire.” Reasons to live come up front with the opening rocker, “Are We All We
Are,” which delivers an expansive, energized and rowdy sense of community
(followed, appropriately enough, by the anthem “Blow Me”).
Cosy Moments, Kinski (Kill Rock Stars)—Years ago
when we first encountered Kinski they were opening for Tool and they not only
didn’t have vocals but their only words to the audience were “Don’t worry, Tool
will be out soon.” No hurry. Their blasted, fuzzed-out, stop and start
instrumentals were a worthy set up. Now on their sixth album, they’ve mutated
into a song-oriented band with effectively murky vocals while retaining their
furious energy—it’s just contained in a smaller cage. The striking cover photo
by Matthew Porter serves as an apt metaphor—a muscle car in full flight above
the pavement but about to crash.
Unapologetic, Rihanna (Def Jam)--Club-bumping
songs like “Fresh Off the Runway,” “Numb” and “Pour It Up” eradicate the
distinctions between star-making machinery and any other capitalist hustle,
setting up a series of gorgeous but disturbing ballads—most pointedly the cry
for direction on “What Now?” and the inability to flip the script on disaster in
“Love Without Tragedy/Mother Mary.”
Keep It Down, Lorenzo Wolff
(lorenzowolff.com)--God helps those who hype the sons of RRC, but it’s easy when
the work is this good. A bass player by rep, Wolff’s guileless vocal style suits
these intimate portraits of characters struggling to speak truths others would
rather not hear. The doo wop-accented tale of date rape, “Big Clumsy Hands,” and
the secret life lived in the all-but-whispered “Quietly” take the intimacy to
its most vulnerable places. The rocking album closer, “I-95”, fights for what
“matters to me” no matter how the world wants to damp that down. As on so many
fine records, that closing fight adds another level of meaning to the album
opener, “A-Sides,” a Jersey Shore rocker that insists, “Turn it up a little bit
louder, turn it up, turn it up, TURN IT UP!”
Southeastern, Jason Isbell (Southeastern
Records)--By the time you hit the fight with cancer in “Elephant,” it’s clear
that this quieter, more overtly introspective outing by Isbell packs a punch as
forceful as anything he’s done. So the big sound and vision of the rocker that
follows, “Flying Over Water,” comes as a welcome shift but no surprise. The epic
tale, “Live Oak,” and the utterly contemporary murder ballad, “Yvette,” offer
fresh horizons for one of our most visionary (and still young)
songwriters.
Echoes of Indiana Avenue, Wes Montgomery
(Resonance)—Indiana Avenue was the street in segregated 1950s Indianapolis where
a flourishing jazz scene launched the careers of the three Montgomery brothers,
Freddie Hubbard, and J.J. Johnson. These never before heard recordings, half of
them live in an Indiana Street club, predate guitarist Wes Montgomery’s
previously known recording career.
Includes a duet version of Thelonius Monk’s “Round Midnight,” where
Montgomery goes deep to find new echoes of beauty in that chestnut while
organist Melvin Rhyne pushes him before taking his own sublime solo. The CD
concludes with “After Hours Blues,” which reveals a raw and raucous side to
Montgomery’s playing.
13 Live, Jimmy Vivino and the Black Italians
(Blind Pig)—Jimmy Vivino, best known as Conan O’Brien’s bandleader and arranger,
actually has served a variety of artists, (Johnny Copeland, Johnny Johnson, the
Fab Faux, Al Kooper and the Rock Bottom Remainders), as guitarist, keyboardist
and even drummer. He’s a superb
player but what makes him one is as much heart as chops. 13 Live, his solo album debut, proves the point.
He and his group (Catherine Russell sings lead on about half the tracks) dig
into blues, soul and rock classics: “Soulful Dress,” “From A Buick Six,” “Shape
I’m In,” “Fast Life Boogie.” This isn’t a TV band, it’s the real Vivino, the one
who’s played with all sorts of fine bands and singers ever since he was a
teenager. Defining the core of it is Jimmy’s liner note essay, a cross-cultural
personal music history that ends by explaining that the Black Italian he has most in
mind is his son.
Regardless, Thea Gilmore (Fulfill [UK])—This is
the sound of Thea stretching, adding to her folk and rock based songs with
occasional strings and modern studio flourishes. Certainly, real credit is due
to arranger Pete Whitfield (Plan B) and Danish producers The Supplier. But the music’s center is the intensity
that Gilmore brings to her lyrics and singing, the no-bullshit attitude and her
utter confidence that what she can do with her voice and imagination will bring
her and us through the riskiest passages.
“Something to Sing About” and “Love Came Looking for Me” are hit singles
everywhere on a better planet than this one.
One True Vine, Mavis Staples (ANTI)—Her second
solo album in collaboration with Jeff Tweedy returns Mavis for the first time in
a long time to what’s essentially gospel territory. She may be the finest
traditional gospel voice we have left—depending on how Aretha’s feeling this
minute—and Tweedy has, surprisingly, come up with a batch of totally appropriate
songs, especially the beautiful “Jesus Wept.” They also bring it back home with
a few older gospel tunes, notably “I Woke Up This Morning with Jesus on My Mind”
and “What Are They Doing in Heaven Today.”
Same Trailer Different Park, Kacey Musgraves
(Mercury)--“Same hurt in every heart,” Musgraves acknowledges just before the
chorus of her single “Merry Go ‘Round,” a haunting portrait of “country” living
all the more powerful because the piano and banjo arrangement keeps things light
while the singer delivers unpleasant truths. At the slightly louder musical
extreme here, the nicotine-fueled, blues rocking, work anthem, “Blowing Smoke”
celebrates a sense of unity (and a sense of humor) in the face of everyone “out
here going broke.” When she rallies a chorus to shout, “We all say that we’ll
quit someday/When our nerves ain’t shot/And our hands don’t shake,” there’s
power in those voices and that vision. Near the end, another sing-a-long,
“Follow Your Arrow,” says that someday might just turn out to be
real.
What’s In Between, Pedaljets (Electric Moth
Records)--“I’m gonna change this to a dream that never dies/I’m gonna punch that
fucker right between the eyes,” goes the refrain of the propulsive opener. What
follows sounds more than a little like the Stooges and the Beatles hashing out
all the obstacles to landing that punch—the many misdirections of the catchy,
yet pleading, “Conversations”; the heart’s confusion on the stately, “Goodbye to
All of That”; the loss of direction in “Measurement”; and the allure of
well-intentioned fantasies in the haunting “Some Kind of One.” Through all the
fears and doubts, the will to fight remains the key, giving this veteran Kansas
City rock and roll band its hardest rocking, most lush, eloquent and unifying
statement yet.
This Beautiful Game, Sean Sennet (SSNA001)--Almost
certainly the best album ever made by
a working music journalist. Sennett’s album with the band Crush 76 scored
a couple of hits with “The Sun King” and “Sometimes Angels,” back in ’98 and
’99. This Beautiful Game, Sennett’s third album, is understated classic
rock, not daring but brimming with energy and love. Sennett is a very good music
journalist (see the website of his
owned and operated magazine, Time Off) but
he’s at least as good at writing songs. He fills songs like “Sometimes (The
World Kicks at Your Seams)” and “There’s a Girl at the Cinema Who Looks Like
Beth Orton” with subtle insights and wry reflections, and “The Thing That Gets
Me Down is the Boredom” uses garage rock accents to beat back the ennui. (No
U.S. release, but all three of Sennett’s albums are available at iTunes, etc. So
is his 2011 book, Off the Record: 25
Years of Music Street Press, edited with Simon Groth.)
Carpe Diem, Karyn White (Lightyear)--When Karyn
White’s L.A. Reid and Babyface-produced debut arrived, there was really nothing
like it. Her first R&B #1, “The Way You Love Me,” brought a disarming
playfulness to a hot dance floor, while her second #1, “Superwoman,” managed to
deliver a “Purple Rain”-sized and remarkably grown up demand for
understanding. In her six year run
(which also found her working extensively with Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis),
White’s sinewy alto proved to be among the most versatile in the business, and
eighteen years later, her sound’s even richer. Compared to those old records,
Carpe Diem is lean and sparely arranged, foregrounding that voice. But
the opening call for unity, “Sista Sista,” makes it clear White’s picking up
where she left off conceptually, and the summer single of a title track defines
the confidence and energy needed to get the job done. The ballads seem to have
gained the most with the passing years, nowhere better illustrated than on the
grief-stricken prayer of a ballad, “My Heart Cries.”
Brighter Days: JJ Grey & Mofro Live
(MVDvisual)—DVD of a 2011 Atlanta live show surrounded by a loving travelogue of
Grey’s north Florida roots—“Where the swamp meets the ocean meets the country.”
He’s got an attitude about being dismissed as a “DirtFloorCracker” but
sympathizes with the haters who haven’t yet received the information he’s
putting out. Like on “Country Ghetto,” where Grey sings: “Love touches us all
yes we’re black and we’re white/Out here in the cut living side by side/So never
mind what you’ve seen and just forget what you’ve heard/Another ignorant
redneck? Just some Hollywood words.” Or on “Lochloosa,” a slice of country
environmentalism that serves as a sequel to Ronnie Van Zant’s “All I Could Is
Write About It,” only this time the perpetrators have a name: Disney. Grey can
sing as well as shout and his Memphis-style horn band sounds much like the food,
the waterways, the love and hate that the songs reflect.
The Wetter the Better / Left Coast Live, Wet
Willie (BGO)—Wet Willie stands as a clear number four in the Southern rock
pantheon which ain’t bad when you’re sitting behind only Lynyrd Skynyrd, ZZ Top,
and the Allman Brothers. And, despite the prominence of front man Jimmy Hall, it
was a band as evidenced by the fact that guitarist Ricky Hirsch and
keyboardist Mike Duke did most of the writing. Wetter is a near classic
from 1974 that is more concise than most other Southern bands of the era because
it feels the gravitational pull of Stax and gospel. Left Coast Live is a
1977 LA show that mostly covers Wetter (sometimes improving it) while
adding covers of Jimmy Reed and Little Milton and topping it off with the
group’s lone Top 10 hit, “Keep On Smilin’.”
How to Sleep in a Stormy Boat, Amy Speace
(1-2-3-4-Go!)—The flat-out undeniable masterpiece here is “The Sea and the
Shore,” a duet with John Fullbright that pulls out new stuff from both of them.
It’s a dialogue, fitting for a song that captures some of Speace’s theatrical
roots, which blend surprisingly easily with her Americana base (best represented
here by “The Fortunate Ones,” already recorded by one of the great song-finders,
Judy Collins). These songs
definitely tell tales, but the unmistakable message of these eleven artful
entanglements is just how daring,
confident, ambitious and beautiful Amy Speace’s songs have
been.
Bona Fide, Chris Thomas King (21st Century
Blues—download only)—Traditional blues from “Big Rock Candy Mountain” to “The
Wind Cries Mary” with originals and a Dust Bowl ballad in between. Brilliantly
put together by King, once a young turk among blues guitarists, now a one man
band and record label.
The Elvis Club, The Del Lords (Megaforce)--In
1984, this band’s opening salvos featured a two-fisted reworking of Blind Alfred
Reed’s “How Can a Poor Man Stand Such Times and Live” followed by the bitter
bravado of “Get Tough.” If anything, the band’s first studio album in over two
decades does just as much heavy lifting, but the struggles tend to feel more
personal. Rockers like “When the Drugs Kick In,” “Chicks, Man!” and “You Can
Make a Mistake One Time” contemplate levels of personal dissolution made all the
more real with age. Tender moments, like Scott Kempner’s “All of My Life,” and
“Letter (Unmailed),” carry a seasoned grace. As a whole, this extraordinary
album benefits from Eric Ambel’s deep crunching production, nowhere pushed to
greater limits than the working class fever dreams of “Me and the Lord
Blues.”
Annie Up, Pistol Annies (Sony Nashville/RCA);
Like A Rose, Ashley Monroe (Warner Brothers)—LA Times critic Ann
Powers recently gave well-deserved credit to Miranda Lambert for the wave of
women currently reminding Nashville that country has a glorious history of
speaking everyday peoples’ truths. This idea is turned into a Jerry Lee
Lewis-hard anthem with the Annies’ (featuring Lambert and Monroe) “Hush Hush.”
Other highlights on this strong second record include the tenderly detailed
ballad “Being Pretty Ain’t Pretty At All” and the lonesome meditation “Girls
Like Us.” Like A Rose pulls the most achingly sweet voice out of the
Annies and allows her to reveal herself as much more than a pretty dress—as she
sings on “Used,” “I’ve got some buttons missing and there are a couple of stains
and places where the fabric has been torn.” Standouts include the raucous plea
for her boyfriend to try “Weed Instead of Roses” and the slower honky tonk of
“Two Weeks Late.”
Suga Top, Poogie Bell Band (Moosicus)—The latest
(and best) in a series of fine solo albums by Marcus Miller’s former drummer
begins with “Greasy Chicken Scratch,” a place where the sound of nasty keyboards
and guitars meld until they become one with the feeling of getting a pork chop
sandwich stuck in your teeth. That echoes faintly even in the gentle, elegant
“Without You” featuring vocalist Mey and the pure pop single feel of “Candy
Bar.” Elsewhere, it’s covers of Erykah Badu, Jaco Pastorius, and Patrice Rushen,
straightahead horn jazz, a piano trio, and the experimentation Bell learned from
his former boss. As a drummer, Poogie calls attention to himself without showing
off. As a composer, we’ve got to admit it’s getting better, getting better every
day.
Sports, Huey Lewis & the News (Capitol)—Sweets
for my sweet, genial almost to a fault, record-making as craft instead of
contradiction. No wonder it sold ten million copies. Wouldn’t have meant much if
the songs weren’t so good but there’s more to it. Not just Chris Hayes’s guitar
shredding on “I Need a New Drug” or the cover of Hank Williams’ “Honky Tonk
Blues” but, lurking there in the middle of the record, the harrowing tale of the
wounded warrior, “Walking on a Thin Line.” It starts out slowly, almost
aimlessly, before exploding in your head like the AK-47 round it’s meant to be.
“Don’t you know me I’m the boy next door/The one you find so easy to ignore/Is
that what I was fighting for?” snarls Lewis, his persona as a suburban golfer
actually upping the ante.
Little Blue Soldier, Cher UK (Such a
Wussy)--Austin-based Mike McCoy has helmed this uncompromising experiment in
garage pop since the early 90s, with dozens of band members playing key roles.
The infectious horn, guitar and bass-driven title track rejects Blue-minded
groupthink as surely as Red. The surf party, “Peace, Love and Fun in the Sun,”
rejects mindlessness as an escape, while the dragster instrumental “Reagan
Versus NoLa” ends with thanks to Mr. Morning in America for new levels of
American denial. “Denny’s After Closing” is a fumbling heartache of a ballad
dedicated to loved ones just barely hanging on, featuring beautifully
understated fiddle by the Wilders’ Betse Ellis.
SLY Reimagined, Global Noize (Zoho
Roots)—Keyboardist Jason Miles’s group Global Noize takes classic Sly and
reboots it in an attempt to use its visions to heal the world. Aided by a cast
of dozens, including Roberta Flack, Nona Hendryx, and original Sly drummer Greg
Errico, GN lets Sly’s intense focus on the core of a song wander, almost
jazzlike at times, without ever losing the groove or the transformative spirit
of tunes now almost a half century old yet seemingly ripped from today’s
headlines about Turkey or Egypt (“Stand!”). DJ Logic’s turntables and Miles’s
synths give a 21st century sensibility but what really makes this
feel up to date is that the music is presented as if it’s brand new and it
allows you to find your own way to its messages, so powerful that two of them
are presented in multiple versions: “It’s A Family Affair” and “The Same Thing”
(The same thing that makes you laugh/Could make you cry/And the same food you
eat to live/Can make you die).
The Messenger, Johnny Marr (Sire/Ada)—Rock’s most
underrated guitarist (he’s been smoking since the beginning, with the Smiths) is
also a great songwriter. These tunes and performances reflect his always audible
base in the glam rock of Marc Bolan, as well as his staunchly Labour (and not
New Labour, either) politics. A tough little genius.
Blades of Grass, Dirty Streets
(Alive/Naturalsound)—Two steps from the blues, Mississippi power trio strains
against the limits of their chops, occasionally touching the hem of the garment
of their idol Jeff Beck. And they notice what’s going on outside the window of
the train they’re on—“Living in a world of underpaid teachers/Congressmen are
getting’ rich/Sitting in the bleachers” while we’re just “waitin’ on a leader.”
It all peaks on “Try Harder,” when singer/guitarist Justin Roland snarls over a
high-stepping riff about a society which pushes you into poverty and then tells
you to “try harder.” Blades of Grass is raw realism, yet it also throws off sparks of psychedelia
without a hint of self-consciousness, one of many signs of a young band growing
up before our eyes.
Sly & Robbie Present Stepper Takes the Taxi
(MVDaudio)—The approach on this instrumental CD is always playful, inviting,
wordlessly invoking the spirit of the Kinks’ “Sunny Afternoon” or Jimmy
Buffett’s “Cheeseburger in Paradise.”
Gulliame “Stepper” Briard is a French saxophonist/keyboardist who was
given access to classic and new recorded riddims produced by Sly and Robbie over
which he and several Jamaicans create an airy top over a funky bottom. Often
(“Frenchman in Kingston,” “Matera Lounge”) there is the feel of a French café
where, for unknown reasons, a world class reggae band is playing. Mixed by
Briard’s fellow Frenchman, Fabwise, who keeps what could have been lightweight
and flimsy into something razor sharp and, in its own way,
compelling.
Lifer, Ricky Byrd (KAYOS)—Brilliant Blackheart,
the guitar voice that blew up the set in response to Joan Jett’s vocal, turns in
his first solo record. What was he waiting for? A set of songs good enough
to make it worthwhile, and he found them. They add up to a cycle of songs about
New York rock band life from the ‘70s to now, from the risky “Let’s Get Gone” to
the now-I-get-it “Married Man.” It’s also a paean to the heyday of glam, when
Byrd’s sensibility was formed at Max’s Kansas City and Bowery dives long before
CBGB’s. At his core, he’s still the
same guy but now he knows a lot of secrets. But you gotta pay your dues...which
is why, I suppose, “Turnstile ‘01” ends the album with a confessional tale told
on a slowed down subway car.
Aztec Jazz, Tom Russell with the Norwegian Wind
Ensemble (Frontera Music)—Russell’s gotten as much out of his most recent
trip to Norway as Little Stevie got out of his. Backed by guitarist Thad Beckman
and a 31 piece horn orchestra, Russell explores “Juarez,” a city he loves that
has been demolished by war as certainly as Baghdad, the lures and injustices of
“Nina Simone,” busking at “St. Olav’s Gate” in Oslo, the contradictions of the
‘60s or was that the ‘70s in “East of Woodstock, West of Vietnam.” And last,
there’s “Jai Alai,” about the price people pay to make a living while others are
blind to their great gracefulness.
The best work of his career.
The Gospel Truth/Soul Hits/McCanna, Les McCann
(BGO)—Three-fer that finds pianist McCann, who achieved fame with the classic
“Compared to What,” exploring the bounds of the piano trio. Disc one is
traditional church music remade for the nightclub, disc two is soul jazz hits of
a half century ago, and disc three is mostly McCann originals. In each case,
there is some help (guitar, percussion) but the essence is the trio and it’s a
revelation to hear everything from hymns to Jimmy Smith to Broadway show tunes
extruded through the soulful, energetic hands of Les McCann.
Guided Tour, The New Gary Burton Quartet (Mack
Avenue)—The master vibraphonist just turned seventy and you might expect him to
play on the cool side, a place where his instrument is traditionally
comfortable. Not at all—this music seethes and erupts, pushed forward by the
drumming of Antonio Sanchez.
Keeping Burton young is guitarist Julian Lage, a prodigy (an Academy
Award-nominated documentary about him was made when he was eight years old) who
joined the group at seventeen and now, eight years later, shows not just the
chops you might expect but a soulful inventiveness that many never achieve.
Highlights include “Remembering Tano,” inflected with Burton’s love of tango and
“Jane Fonda Called Again,” a rave-up given extra spice by Scott Colley’s
understated bass solo.
Lip Lock, Eve (From the Rib/Red)--Over a decade
after her last full-length release, Eve returns with an athletic, often
Caribbean-hook-laden set of fight songs. Though stylistically harder and faster
than her elder sisters, her expressive rhyme style hearkens back to the
playfulness of Salt’N’Pepa, allowing her to move naturally from the untempered
boast “She Bad Bad” to the arm over the shoulder coaching of “Make It Out This
Town.” Her duet with Missy Elliott, “Wanna Be,” becomes an anthem of
self-empowerment, and Snoop Dogg’s guesting on “Mama in the Kitchen”—“whippin’,
we flippin’”—cheers her dance floor gumbo as hard work well worth the
wait.
The Ides, Me Like Bees (Loveway Records)--The
first full-length release from these Joplin, Missouri rockers prominently
features the band’s tornado-relief single, “Naked Trees,” a surprisingly
delicate contemplation of what just happened and what do we do now. The answer
is the rest of the record, a rambunctious and adventurous fight for community in
a world of individual nightmares. Hooks abound, but, for a starting point, it’s
hard to beat the heavy hitting, “Joseph Jones,” a meditation on the homeless as
vanguard of a better world.
Songs from the Barn, Southside Johnny and the Poor
Fools (Leroy)—Southside Johnny has found his best collaborator since Miami
Steve Van Zandt in keyboardist and writing partner Jeff Kazee. This album was
recorded at Levon Helm’s barn—thus the title. If it’s a roots record, it’s a
version of roots much like that of Levon, too, including a “Mexican Waltz,”
covers of Dylan (“Tom Thumb’s Blues” arranged around string bass, barroom piano
and harmonica), and of mighty New Orleans soulman Chris Kenner and foundational
rock and roller Bo Diddley, and finally, a Stephen Foster song. The highpoint,
“Winter in Yellow Knife,” is about a suicidal low point, the kind of
contradiction that animates all the great blues-based artists. A very different
version of one of the most underrated vocalists still hanging in there.
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