Andrew Bird - Mysterious Production of Eggs Righteous Babe
Reviewed by Adam D. Miller
Somewhere in the American Midwest, a singer-songwriter-guitarist-whistler-violinist named Andrew Bird is making some of the best music of the past decade. His combination of gypsy, jazz and classical violin influences; folk, country, blues, and rock ‘n’ roll musical influences; and songwriting subject matter that comes from who knows where, has made him a unique force in music.
His new album is entitled The Mysterious Production of Eggs and contains song titles such as “Fake Palindromes” and “Measuring Cups,” so it shouldn’t surprise anyone that lyrically and musically it’s pretty strange stuff. Yet as strange as it is, it remains accessible to anyone with an ear for talent, much like an old episode of Lost in Space or an old horror flick.
With the release of 2002’s Weather Systems, Bird was no longer accompanied by his backing band the Bowl of Fire. Along with the Bowl of Fire, he created records and put on live shows that were lively, spontaneous, and a whole lot of fun. With the release of Eggs one must confirm that the Bowl of Fire is history, although drummer Kevin O’Donnell and vocalist Nora O’Connor do appear throughout the album.
After opening with a gorgeous untitled instrumental (featuring Bird’s signature violin), we move into the acoustic guitar-based “Sovay.” The album’s first section is a mellow affair, and the following track, “A Nervous Tic Motion of the Head to the Left” starts out pretty tamely before moving into what sounds like the soundtrack of a spaghetti western played on theremin (although I think it’s actually whistling passed through some kind of synthesizer). Or perhaps they are simply the opening credits for the feature film that is Andrew Bird and The Mysterious Production of Eggs.
There isn’t a single bad song on the album, but there are some that are more memorable than others. “Opposite Day” is another highlight of the album. Listening to it is like dreaming, or lying awake in bed at 4:30 AM. The lyrics are so out there that I rarely understand them, but it is the feeling that the words and syllables give you that makes them engaging.
Eggs is a great album to listen to on headphones. It is lush and atmospheric, layered like a musical collage, the songs flowing into each other. Songs pass by and before you know it the album is over, but like a movie that you know and love, you can put it on, hit play, and escape all over again when it’s done.
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Ani DiFranco - Knuckle Down Righteous Babe
Reviewed by Shel Desormeaux
I don’t like female folkies. There, I said it. I think it’s because I, in all my cynical fucked up-ness, could be one: “I’m standing on the ground/And you aren’t here/And everything is rainy... rainy...Rainyrainyrainyrainyrainy... *twang*”
Should it be that easy? No. No it shouldn’t. But here we are. And you can picture this big ole broad (i.e. me) with a guitar whirling around in the rain, doing the Bristol stomp on a poor, defenseless patch of stargazer lilies, screeching about that one night on the hood of an asshole’s car.
None of that’s important now.
Important to chicks everywhere is Ani DiFranco. Her honesty and staunch refusal to be anything but is one of the things that have set her apart. Her lyrics are beautiful and beautifully placed, and she is a solid guitarist and a very good singer. But her songs are raw. They are unadorned and without frills, unapologetic and without glad-handing. They just are.
The woman’s pretty much released an album a year, every year since 1990. Not only is she incredibly prolific, but she’s always preferred to go at it completely alone in terms of production. She performed solo for the entirety of her last album, Educated Guess. This time around, for the first time, her album was co-produced by someone else, that person being Joe Henry, a performer as prolific as she.
The twelve songs on Knuckle Down are as lovely and as affecting as anything she’s ever done; “Knuckle Down” is a sweet and infectious start to the album. “Studying Stones” and “Paradigm” stand out, the latter being Ani’s recollection of the early years at her mother’s side, while her mother was an activist. It is quite possible, however, that the most impressive piece on the album is “Parameters,” a chilling spoken-word piece about a woman finding a stranger, uninvited, in her bedroom one evening.
Given the more than a dozen albums Ani has churned out over the past decade and a half, it’s appalling how many young women have yet to hear her. As much as anything she’s done in the past, this album would be a good place to start. It’s jarring and sad and jubilant and sweet. And every woman in the world should hear it, cause it’s got more balls than anything else most women listen to.
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Bright Eyes - Digital Ash in a Digital Urn Saddle Creek
Reviewed by Adam D. Miller
Bright Eyes (Conor Oberst), indie-rock’s favorite wonderboy has released two albums on one day. (See my I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning review for personal revelations).
Hmm…
Well, it worked for Tom Waits in 2002 when he simultaneously released Alice and Blood Money. Both were critical favorites, but then again, so was Tom Waits. Of course, after the attention Bright Eyes got with their last release Lifted or the Story Is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground, Saddle Creek was probably eager to hear what he could pull off next. When he told them, “Two albums at the same time!” they probably jumped on the opportunity.
And why wouldn’t they? Once you get over the fact that he’s young and relatively inexperienced, Conor Oberst is a talented singer-songwriter. I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning was the album that won me over, but I was unsure about Digital Ash in a Digital Urn. They are very different albums. While Wide Awake relies on steel guitars, Emmylou Harris, and country couplets, Digital Ash is more electronic, relying on distorted guitars, drum machines, and other gadgets. This is the album that reminds us that Oberst grew up in the 80s.
Digital Ash in a Digital Urn isn’t as good an album as Wide Awake, but it certainly has its moments, despite starting out almost as pretentiously with “Time Code,” an experiment in sound gone awry. “Take It Easy (Love Nothing)” is the immediate highlight, starting out with distorted electric guitar, before being joined by what sounds like an old video game system (Game Boy, perhaps?). The lyrics seem to be about getting it on with an old friend who “stood there so brave, used to be shy.” “I Believe in Symmetry” is the other truly great song on the album, sounding like a mantra that everything will work out evenly in the end.
If you’re going to invest in one of the new Bright Eyes albums, I’d personally choose I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning. If you’re countryphobic, you may prefer Digital Ash in a Digital Urn with its modernist vibe. Either way, it’s worth it for the few highlights.
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Bright Eyes – I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning Saddle Creek
Reviewed by Adam D. Miller
I wanted to hate this record – I really did.
And really, it’s my own fault. I set myself up for disappointment when the two new Bright Eyes albums arrived on my desk. People my age aren't supposed to be pretentiously prolific; we're supposed to wallow in the greatness of those more experienced than us. But Conor Oberst has thus far made a career of being as prolific as he wants to be. Bright Eyes quickly became an indie darling and won the respect of Rolling Stone magazine with his last release Lifted or the Story Is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground. (How’s that for a title? I told you he was pretentious).
And now this. Not only has Bright Eyes released two albums on the same day (see my Digital Ash In A Digital Urn review), but being the showy artiste he is, one of them starts with a monologue. A monologue! Didn't anybody tell Conor that Tom Waits and Johnny Cash are the only two people that can start out an album with talking? And the fact that the dialogue is so mundane doesn’t really help. Good. I thought for sure I’d hate this record. Just as planned.
Of course, when the muted strumming began as Conor finished his story, and the band launched into "At The Bottom Of Everything," I realized that I was a fool for making my conclusion so hastily. The opening track of Wide Awake, It’s Morning is a great song, and honestly, so are most of the songs on the album.
Conor Oberst is not a great singer – he sounds like a less-experienced Elliott Smith and like he’s nervous around a microphone. On most of Wide Awake the talented musicians he surrounds himself with – and there are way too many to mention here - assist him in making the music great. But his lyrics are well-written, and that’s his saving grace. Even when songs are pared down to just voice and guitar, as on “Lua,” we are drawn to them like words from the mouth of a prophet.
The album clearly draws upon a country vibe and many of the lyrics and musical elements build upon both vintage and alternative country. “We Are Nowhere And It’s Now” begins with one of the greatest opening couplets for a country song (“If you hate the taste of wine/But you drink it ‘til you’re blind”) and contains harmony vocals from Emmylou Harris (how’s that for lucky? He got the great country harmonizer to sing harmony on his record!)
There isn’t a single bad song on I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning, but at times the album sounds derivative. On certain tracks, Bright Eyes runs the gamut of being called the “new Dylan.” Of course, “new Dylan” is a double-edged sword, as many up-and-coming singer-songwriters have realized over the years. It speaks towards lyrical brilliance but also exhausting a form mastered by just one man. “First Day Of My Life” seems to recall “Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright” in particular.
Most of the songs on I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning are low-key and soothing, which is good if you're in the mood for that, but grows tiresome after a while. Luckily songs like "Another Travelin' Song" are there to pick up the pace and are placed at the perfect moments.
Conor Oberst may be a pretentious singer-songwriter, but he's a damned good one that I'm sure we'll be hearing about for quite some time. I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning convinced me of that. Maybe it’ll convince you too?
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The Chris Stamey Experience - A Question of Temperature Yep Roc
Reviewed by Adam D. Miller
Chris Stamey is hardly a rock star, but he is undoubtedly a veteran of the American “alternative rock” scene that budded in the early 1980s, most prominently as founder of North Carolina’s the dBs. More recently, he has served as a sideman with Alex Chilton, Bob Mould, and Yo La Tengo. Additionally, he also founded his own label (Car Records) and own recording studio (Modern Recording).
A Question Of Temperature is Stamey’s second album on Yep Roc, and comes relatively soon after the 2004 release of Travels In The South, an ambitious affair that was years in the making. In contrast to its predecessor, with Temperature we find an album that is much more band-oriented (hence its credit to The Chris Stamey Experience as opposed to simply Chris Stamey), and more importantly, much more fun. Like he did on Travels in the South, Stamey uses his extensive list of musician contacts to his benefit, enlisting Yo La Tengo, Caitlin Cary (formerly of Whiskeytown) and former dB’s member Gene Holder as musical and vocal support.
A Question of Temperature seems to be little more than a love letter to vintage, guitar-based rock ‘n’ roll. Stamey says of the album, “I think of this record as being something of a meditation on the late-‘60s generation that I was a part of, and as speaking to those folks in some way.” He delivers this message through solid original rock ‘n’ roll songs like “Desperate Man” and “Come On,” as well as covers of classic guitar-rock tracks like “Shapes of Things” by The Yardbirds, “Venus” by Television, and “Politician” by Cream.
There are more musically innovative songs on this album. For instance, “McCauley Street (Let’s Go Downtown)” is hauntingly beautiful, with harmony vocals by Caitlin Cary. But this is a rock ‘n’ roll album, and it ends up being those songs which echo the 60s that make the album most enjoyable.
The album closes off with a song as wildly entertaining as its title, the instrumental “Dr. Strangelove’s Assistant or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Marimba.” The track would sound like an O Brother, Where Art Thou? outtake if it wasn’t overwhelmed by heavily distorted electric guitar. The track features a guest appearance by Chatham County Line, a bluegrass band out of North Carolina.
A poignant footnote for the album is its bonus track, “V.O.T.E PSA.” The thirty second jingle was released as a single by Chris Stamey & Yo La Tengo in 2004 and encourages young people to get out and vote in the 2004 election, using a similar musical and lyrical technique as employed by Otis Redding on his “Stay In School” P.S.A. recorded in the 60s. We also get an alternate version of the Stamey original “The Summer Sun” that is more musically challenging than the poppy affair that appears in the album’s main sequence.
If you are looking for musical innovation, you may want to look elsewhere, but the musicianship and fun Chris Stamey and his friends are having makes for a refreshing listen that will surely stand up to repeated spins. It is a pure rock ‘n’ roll album for the nostalgic, but it doesn’t grow stale.
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The Complements - Something Like Happiness
Reviewed by Adam D. Miller
Growing up outside of the cultural epicenter that is Toronto, I’ve grown quite cynical about what my suburban vicinity has to offer. When it comes to restaurants, music, movies, shopping, and just about anything, downtown Toronto does it bigger and better. When you’re downtown, you feel inspired to create and soak everything up. It’s just not the same when you’re surrounded by picket fences and SUVs.
It is with pride, then, that I introduce our readers to a wonderfully talented folk-pop duo called The Complements. Like me, Kevin Zarnett (songwriter/guitarist/vocalist) and Nurit Suzana (vocalist) grew up in the suburbs of Toronto. Clearly they found inspiration somewhere, because Something Like Happiness, their debut EP, collects five originals that are definite gems, whether you base your criteria on songwriting or performing.
Kevin and Nurit seem to bring much different things to the table, and this is precisely what makes their sound so effective and interesting. Kevin’s voice is undeniably one of a folk singer - melodic but gritty, clearly passionate about the words he is singing. Nurit’s vocals are angelic but powerful, and tracks where she sings lead are a nice break from Kevin’s vocals. The vocals are at their best when the two harmonize, particularly on tracks like “Just Another Sad Song.”
Of course, none of this would matter if it weren’t for the strength of Kevin Zarnett’s songs. These songs recall many things, both musically and lyrically. The classic compositions of groups like The Byrds and Simon & Garfunkel immediately come to mind when listening to the EP, as do more recent groups like The Jayhawks and Blue Rodeo. The album begins with “Sweet Sorrow,” a slick combination of acoustic rhythms and 12-string electric guitars that instantly recall Roger McGuinn and Tom Petty.
The title track “Something Like Happiness” is a radio-friendly folk-pop gem, complete with a catchy chorus that you will find yourself singing along to in the shower. Another notable track on the EP is “Valley Green,” a song that is both nostalgic and reflective, recalling the Kinks classic “Village Green.” Musically, however, it is more evocative of the rich tapestry known as Americana.
But ‘generic’ or ‘formulaic’ are not words that come to mind when I listen to The Complements. By combining very different male and female voices they have found originality in a genre that has had many effective practitioners. I honestly cannot think of another male/female duo that has so effectively delivered the kind of sound and vision that The Complements seem to offer. Indeed, Kevin and Nurit certainly “complement” each other.
I suppose the true test for The Complements will be whether or not they can follow up Something Like Happiness with a full-length release. But for now, this sampling will leave those listeners with a taste for melody and lyric with something to enjoy and share with others.
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Consortium Of Genius – In C.O.G. We Trust Little Blue Men Records
Reviewed by Adam M. Anklewicz
Ambitious, absurd, dramatic and drumbot, the Consortium of Genius are Lewis D’Aubin as Dr. Milo T. Pinkerton III, Jim Fairchild as Dr. Z, Jeff King as Dr. A, drumbot as himself, along with Liz Streckfus as Lab Girl VI.
In C.O.G. We Trust starts with “I Have the Power,” a song which introduces us to some dreadful lyrics such as “I stand before you on this stage / To dip my quill and script a page / Of history, outside the cage / That I’ve prepared for you.” The Consortium of Genius have a knack for playing off of the terrible work that Bowie and Queen did in the 80s. C.O.G. takes pseudo-stadium rock opera and tries to recreate it with a laugh or two, or at least I hope they intended it to be funny.
The album has the loose storyline of a bunch of scientists rocking out. Linking the songs are comic tracks, usually less than a minute long, that attempt to make the record flow better. The album wouldn’t work as a rock opera without the linking dialogue.
“Why Do We Do It” is perhaps one of the best songs on the album, with lyrics like “I’ve got a PhD in physiology / A genius of science with a nuclear degree / But beneath this lab coat girl you know I’m a man”. However, the greatest song of the album is the closing song “Just A Drumbot,” written and performed by the drumbot himself. It’s kind of sad that the best song was written by a machine. One specific line puts it high above the rest of the album. “Hey Mr. Soundman, see these metal thumbs / I’ll strangle you with them, if you don’t turn up my drums.”
I must warn you that In C.O.G. We Trust is not all fun and games; there are some really bad songs, like “(I’m Not Jealous Of The) Showerhead” and “Yer Dawg Iz Ded”. If you’re looking for musical genius, you’re not going to find it here. But The Consortium Of Genius are very funny, albeit tiresome after the first few listens. It’s mostly entertaining, but I don’t expect this disc to find its way into my CD player very often.
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Eric Clapton - Sessions For Robert J Warner/Reprise
Reviewed by Stephen Marra
Let’s go molecular with Eric Clapton and head for the reptilian section of the nervous system, where surely some part of the blues must reside. See that synapse over there, right next to that firing neuron? That’s Eric’s C chord. And over there, tucked behind more synapses and firing very rapidly, is his E chord. Eric has primo neurons and synapses that, when added together, mean the boy can play one heck of a guitar. But enough looking around at this atomic level. Since I’ve been listening and watching Clapton’s CD/DVD package entitled Sessions For Robert J and this review is all about the blues, we’d better start looking for some soul and funk.
Soul and funk are what I want when listening to the blues. I want humidity, sweat and cut-offs. Eric made me think about cucumber sandwiches with no crusts. Eric made me want to put on a sweater. I’ve listened to the original twenty-seven or so Robert Johnson tracks, and to be honest, I’ve been trying to give the CD away to no avail. I admire Robert for being one of the points of origin of the blues, but he was certainly not the only one. To me, Robert Johnson sounds odd. Maybe because he is from a different era, but that twang just sounds odd.
Maybe it’s because he is the only person playing and singing. I listen to Robert Johnson and I want to introduce him to a bass player and drummer. I do like other people’s versions of his songs. I think the Stones, especially on Exile on Main Street, created a great blues sound out of Johnson’s influence. The Stones sound dangerous. Listening to their version of “Love in Vain” or “Stop Breaking Down” makes me want to look over my shoulder to see who is following me. Clapton’s versions of these songs totally lack depth, soul, funk, danger, strut or swagger. His “Stop Breaking Down” would not have gotten my attention other than to fast-forward through it, had I not been familiar with the Stones' version.
No doubt about it, “Slowhand” has the right DNA to play guitar. I don’t understand this cruel trick of nature that provides one with rock ‘n’ roll genetics and then skimps on soul. "Layla" is a good song, and I forget who was dumping Eric at the time, but it was that level of emotion that produced one of his best songs.
I enlisted my kids to listen to Sessions for Robert J with me. Trying to be fair, I wanted to give it multiple listens. None of the kids would listen more than once. I then watched the DVD with my wife. Not once did she complain when I fast-forwarded through songs. That’s how bad it is.
Now, the DVD has some redeeming qualities. I thought the house where the first session was recorded was very nice. I also liked the shade of yellow some of the walls were painted. I even took a digital photo of the yellow wall since we’re painting at home.
So basically, if you want to see a nice British house with pretty yellow walls buy Sessions for Robert J. If you want to hear blues that has edge, funk and soul, listen to Exile on Main Street. After we have painted our walls yellow and I no longer need the DVD for a color reference, you can send me your address and I’ll send you my Sessions for Robert J.
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Kimya Dawson - Hidden Vagenda K Records
Reviewed by Ivan Fernandez
Kimya Dawson, co-founder of The Moldy Peaches, has been labeled as the goddaughter of Antifolk. I’ll be honest and tell you that I have no idea what that means. But what I do know is that her latest release through K Records, Hidden Vagenda, is a wonderful collection of straight-from-the-heart folk songs filled with humor and a tender vulnerability.
In her first studio recorded album (she has three previous home recorded albums), the music is hardly antifolk. In fact, it’s quite folky in nature. The focus of all the songs is Dawson’s voice and the strum of her guitar.
There are a few exceptions where the music goes beyond folk, such as the electric guitar solo in “Anthrax (powerballad version).” Some of her friends join her on a few songs to add backing vocals and an extra instrument here and there. For example, “Moving On” features a set of strings and a chorus of backing vocals.
As wonderful as the music is, it’s Dawson’s voice and her lyrics that are the most enthralling. Her control of the English language is so playfully masterful (or is it masterfully playful?) that the imperfections of her voice (Dawson’s voice is raspy and cracks on a few tracks) are easily forgiven. In the tradition of indie band Neutral Milk Hotel, the imperfections actually add to the strength of the vocalist’s emotions.
On the second track, “Fire,” she sings, “It seemed like everyone I knew was dying/I looked in the mirror and I was on fire/Somebody yelled out ‘hey, stop, drop and roll!’/I said ‘that might save my skin, but it won’t save my soul.’” Although her voice actually cracks halfway through, her witty lyrics will keep you listening until she reveals her metaphor about fire.
Dawson’s honesty and vulnerability really stand out on “Lullaby For The Taken.” You can almost see the tears in her eyes as she sings about her deceased grandmother. Her vulnerability also brings a sense of apocalyptic vision on “Anthrax (powerballad version).” Lyrically, the song is a realization about life and friendships. “You are my friend,” she sings, “and what we’re doing is too important/for our lives to end quite yet.” Musically, it’s the best produced track on the entire album.
In “Viva La Persistence,” she visits her psychiatrist who advises her to “put down that gee-tar/don’t be a ree-tard” and gives her a few options such as “deep-fried apathy.” She sticks with her “gee-tar” and leaves the office content in her freedom to “go fucking crazy.”
Not all the songs on Hidden Vagenda are mired in metaphor and introspection. There are a few playful ditties such as “Parade,” a song about summertime fun. Whether she’s fun or serious, Kimya Dawson is always honest about her material and her performance. The music world could use more vocalists whose last names are Dawson and not Simpson.
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Reviewed by Adam D. Miller
In Jason Ankeny’s profile of Lou Barlow on All Music Guide, he writes, “Arguably the most prolific songwriter of his generation, Lou Barlow was also the one of the most influential.”
I must be honest in telling you that before hearing Emoh I had no idea who Lou Barlow was, and only later when I discovered that he was in Dinosaur Jr. and Sebadoh did Ankeny’s sentiment begin to make sense to me. Not that I have never listened to any Dinosaur Jr. and Sebadoh (which probably makes me under-qualified to write this review), but I recognize their influence; much like a Nirvana fan should recognize the influence of bands like The Pixies, even if they’ve never heard a single song of theirs.
I like a lot of bands that were influenced by the whole Bob Mould-influenced ‘Lo-Fi’ thing that Dinosaur Jr. and Sebadoh were a part of. Beck and Elliott Smith both started out in that vein before moving on to more mainstream (at least in Beck’s case) material.
In any case, I can’t really tell you how Emoh compares to Barlow’s other solo albums or his work with Sebadoh and Dinosaur Jr. What I can tell you is that Emoh, Barlow’s third solo album (his first on indie label Merge) is a great record.
Largely acoustic and cynical, the album comes across as down-to-earth until you pay closer attention to the lyrics. “Mary” sounds relatively tender, but the lyrics “Immaculate conception, yeah right / Crazy Mary, good that you lied” were clearly written to stir up some listeners. Of course, anyone who has listened to Barlow or Sebadoh before know that his lyrical style has always been playfully witty and cynical.
Among the album’s many highlights are opening track “Holding Back The Year,” the drum-machine driven “Home,” and “If I Could.” Aside from being a great lyricist, Barlow seems to have a knack for coming up with sing-along melodies that will surely find their way into your head after a few spins of Emoh.
In an odd way, Emoh seems to recall the music of Nick Drake, particularly the Pink Moon album. This is most evident on “Puzzle,” but throughout much of the album the arrangements are extremely sparse, and the focus is entirely on Barlow’s vocal timbre and gently-strummed acoustic chords, with the occasional other instrument lightly added in for good measure.
The album closes with “The Ballad of Daykitty,” a song that recalls the old children’s song “The Cat Came Back.” The song embodies all that is great about Lou Barlow; his knack for melody, witty lyrics, and gentle musical style. It’s a pleasure to listen to, and for me, the perfect place to start.
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Marianne Faithfull - Before The Poison Epitaph/Anti-
Reviewed by Adam D. Miller
Depending on what type of music fan you are, your awareness of who Marianne Faithfull is will vary quite a bit. The ‘Classic Rock’ fan will probably know Faithfull as the young girlfriend of Mick Jagger in the 1960s; the cute teenage girl who had a hit with the Jagger/Richards composition “As Tears Go By” in 1964. Some of these fans will know that Faithfull matured and went on to co-write “Sister Morphine” with Mick and Keith, which she released in 1969 and The Stones went on to include on their Sticky Fingers album two years later.
The alternative music fan, on the other hand, will know Marianne Faithfull in a much different light. In 1979, Faithfull released her groundbreaking album Broken English. Gone was the chirpy teenager of “As Tears Go By;” At 33, her voice was already raspy and worn, her sound much different than the lite pop she employed in the 60s. Throughout the 80s and 90s, Faithfull began to prove herself as a compelling lyricist and much more modernly-influenced than other performers her age. Mick Jagger may have allowed 80s pop music and disco to influence him, but Faithfull was more interested in the underground music scene. In the years since Broken English, Faithfull has sporadically released records, Strange Weather and Vagabond Ways being among the more successful ones
Before The Poison is Faithfull’s second album of the 21st century, and easily one of the strongest of her career. Collaborating on songwriting with PJ Harvey, Nick Cave, Blur’s Damon Albarn, and Jon Brion, Faithfull uses the same collaborative strategy as she did on 2002’s Kissin’ Time, albeit more effectively this time.
In PJ Harvey, Faithfull has found a kindred spirit. Harvey composed three out of the ten tracks on Before the Poison, and co-wrote two others with Faithfull. Many of these songs form the highlights of the album, especially the album’s opening track, “The Mystery of Life,” on which Harvey provides some instrumentation.
That’s not to say Faithfull’s other collaborations are worthless. On the contrary, collaborations with Nick Cave and Damon Albarn are also very effective. Cave, one of the best songwriters of his generation, has always been known more for his lyrical abilities. For this reason, the song he composes with Faithfull, “Crazy Love,” is interesting. The lyrics sound like they could have been written by Cave, but in fact were written by Marianne Faithfull, with Cave providing the music. “Last Song” (largely written by Albarn, with some additional lyrics by Faithfull) is probably Before The Poison’s greatest ballad, largely based around acoustic guitar and piano, with sad and reflective lyrics about moving on with one’s life.
I doubt Before The Poison is an album I will come back to again and again, but for many it will prove immaculate proof that Marianne Faithfull is at the top of her game as a performer and songwriter. Her abilities may be limited to writing lyrics, but she does so with a fascinating life full of experiences to reflect upon.
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McEnroe and Birdapres - Nothing is Cool Peanuts & Corn Records
Reviewed by Russell Bartholomee
Nothing Is Cool is the first full length collaboration between two veterans of Vancouver’s underground hip-hop scene, Birdapres and McEnroe. It is an uneven record that’s neither inspiringly good nor offensively bad. It shows promise, especially musically. It’s that rare CD that doesn’t evoke very strong feelings of like or dislike either way. To paraphrase the original Bedazzled, it “fills me with inertia.”
The disc starts well enough, with a funky track called “5000 Watts,” in which the duo brags about their “red hot sound” over a head bob-inducing beat. But after that promising beginning, the disc quickly drifts into perfunctory beats and rhymes that, while pleasant, are fairly forgettable. Most of the album’s fourteen tracks consist of mid-tempo, repetitive beats and breaks that serve as a foundation for lyrics that promise that the pair has the best game in town, but ultimately fail to deliver the goods.
The disc’s production is better than its vocals, with several strong grooves. The pair seem to favor the sound of late 80s/early 90s hip hop, which at least indicates good taste. The title track has a nearly irresistible beat, and “Broke Beat” is fashioned from a cool combination of drums, gypsy violin, and jazz guitar. “Party People” is a spot-on homage to old school hip-hop, with drum machine beats straight from the Grand Master Flash playbook. In the lyrics to that track, some of the great names of pre-gangsta rap are dropped over fine turntable work—Kurtis Blow, De La Soul, Bambaataa, MC Serch (of 3rd Bass), and the aforementioned Flash (actually Flash is mentioned at least three times on the disc). Unfortunately, this track is the exception and not the rule. Ironically, on one of the least interesting songs with the dullest beats (“Break Merchant”), the hook is “No, you can’t sample this break.” That’s a promise.
McEnroe and Birdapres have great influences, but as many times as the group compares themselves to these pioneers, their own stuff pales in comparison. Part of the problem on the record is that they can’t quite decide whether they want to emulate their musical heroes or really try to take hip-hop into a new direction. Either choice would be preferable. “Party People” is good, and it serves as a reminder of how great some of the old school really was. Trouble is, it makes me want to go listen to Grandmaster Flash or De La Soul, instead of the rest of Nothing Is Cool.
It wouldn’t be so bad if the lyrics weren’t so egocentric. The two spend a lot of time complaining about phony rappers with no skills who make a lot of money, and that rap is not about money, but art. But then they complain that they don’t get paid enough and that people don’t respect them as much as they should. They take pride in being independent of the corrupt studio system, yet they crave the lifestyle of the rappers they hate. Whichever argument they’re making, their voices lack conviction. The two sound…well, bored. I’m not even convinced that they’re enjoying what they’re doing half the time.
The low point of the record is the last track, “F*@k You 2K3,” in which McEnroe and Birdapres give the verbal finger to everyone they don’t like. And they don’t like anybody or anything, as far as I can tell. They go so far as to dismiss “rap music in general” and you the listener, if it happens you don’t care for the disc. Endearing.
If only the disc had ended one track sooner, with the very satisfying “Supposed.” That track accomplishes what most of Nothing Is Cool fails to do; it manages to sound classic and fresh at once, with more clever lyrics, nice flow, danceable breaks, killer scratching, and even a shout out to Ine Kamoze. While the rest of the album is merely good, “Supposed” proves that McEnroe and Birdapres can make great hip hop together. I’m looking forward to hearing if they can sustain that for a whole album next time.
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Mike Doughty – Skittish/Rockity Roll ATO Records
Reviewed by Russell Bartholomee
In the history of modern music, a handful of artists have emerged from successful bands to go on to even greater glory as solo artists. Peter Gabriel is my favorite example of this rare phenomenon, breaking ground with Genesis before reinventing himself as one of the prime movers of post-modern and world music. There are a few others—Robyn Hitchcock, Dr. Dre, Michael Jackson—who have managed to make most people forget about the groups they left. But they are the exception to the rule: most people who make great music in a band need to be in a band to make great music. I’m looking at you, Sting. And at the risk of stepping on some toes, I’m looking at all of the Fab Four, none of whom ever achieved as much as the Beatles did together.
I’m also definitely looking at Mike Doughty, whose Skittish/Rockity Roll release serves as a great reminder of how great a band Soul Coughing was. It’s not that these two discs are without merit. There are some really good songs in there, and the first half of Rockity Roll is pretty solid. It’s just that Doughty doesn’t have the ability to edit himself. Most of the songs show promise; they also beg for collaboration with someone.
Skittish is the weaker of the two discs. The liner notes indicate that it was recorded in 1996 (the same year as Soul Coughing’s brilliant Irresistible Bliss), but that the label and the “band didn’t have room for this music.” It may be that the other guys recognized what Doughty doesn’t—that these songs are a little better than mediocre, but not much. And that they all kind of sound the same. Indeed, on first listening, it was sometimes difficult to tell when one song ended and the next started. The main reason for that is that Doughty’s guitar work is fairly limited. He knows a couple of tricks—the palm mute, and the open chord drone—and he uses them too much. His voice (always his best feature) is fine. And his lyrics are as interesting as ever. But the music sounds like Doughty singing Dave Matthews demos. There’s just not enough there to keep the listener genuinely engaged.
Rockity Roll fares much better. It was recorded in 2003, and for the first six tracks, it actually makes up for much of the luster Skittish lacks. Here, Doughty has spared us from the sparse arrangements of the first disc. In addition to his dutiful rhythm guitar, we get some drum programming and synthesized accompaniment. The best of these tracks, “27 Jennifers” and “Ossining” would not have been out of place on Soul Coughing’s El Oso. It’s still lacking something, though; the drum machine is good, but Soul Coughing’s Yuval Gabay would have been much better. It’s all just a bit too clinical. To make matters worse, Rockity Roll isn’t even a proper album. Tracks seven through eleven are bonus tracks: a couple of very lo-fi live cuts, and a few outtakes from…Skittish. These are the songs that weren’t strong enough to make the final cut for Skittish, and they bring Rockity Roll down at exactly the wrong time.
I know I’m making this all sound like a train wreck, and I don’t mean to. Soul Coughing completists will find some rewards. He still has that fantastic trademark vocal delivery-uh. And his lyrics are still engagingly cryptic. A sample from “Ossining”: “Put my faith in the price of mud/And my lord shall match the pounds/Ten thousand days and a night spelunking/Kill my years in the lightning round/Confound it.” I don’t know what it means either, but it sounds cool when Doughty sings it. It’s not even that he needs Soul Coughing to be good. He’s proven to be a good collaborator with other artists in the past (check out his vocals on “Mr. Xcitement” by They Might Be Giants and “Never Gonna Come Back Down” by BT). But what Skittish/Rockity Roll makes clear is that while Mike Doughty is an ok singer/songwriter, he’s a great band member. Hopefully his next project will have a few more names besides his own on the back cover.
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Reviewed by Adam M. Anklewicz
Guitar and drum combo… haven’t seen that before. Melissa Swingle and Laura King are The Moaners. And I wish they weren’t. On Dark Snack, their debut album, The Moaners sound like they want to make a punk record, but unfortunately cannot pull off sloppy and loud and instead come off as muted and boring.
Average musical skill meets mediocre songwriting, The Moaners are led by Swingle’s vocals, which are grating and hurt the ears very quickly. It’s painful to listen to, and Swingle handles vocals throughout the entire album, so there’s no rest. Swingle and King are not terrible musicians, but they’re not great either. They perform with a very tight and clean sound, which does not suit the songs, and unfortunately the music never takes the spotlight on any or the tracks. It’s very repetitive, boring, and lacking in the energy that is needed for punk or grunge.
It’s sad bastard music for the terminally dull. Perhaps a sad sack hating his life sitting in his front room reading a newspaper would like this music, but I cannot imagine anyone else.
I do however have to justify the second star that this album received (there’s gotta be something good). I could have easily been lazy and given it a single star, but there are a few redeeming qualities. If you ignore the songwriting and the vocal abilities, you may find some decent guitar playing and drumming and perhaps some mildy amusing lyrical content. If it didn’t always take Swingle five seconds to get out a single word, it would be easier to analyze these lyrics, but unfortunately it’s not worth the effort.
Overall, Dark Snack is a sleeper; the album will put anyone to sleep within a few minutes.
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Shivaree – Who's Got Trouble? Zoe/Rounder
Reviewed by Adam D. Miller
Who’s Got Trouble? is the third album by Shivaree, a group that released a solid debut in 1999 and then vanished, or at least so it seemed. It turns out the group never really went anywhere. Their first album found most of its success in Europe, where they struck a hit with “Goodnight Moon” and released a follow-up album in 2002 with Rough Dreams, an album that did not receive a proper release in their native North America.
Nearly six years after I Ought To Give You A Shot In The Head For Making Me Live In This Dump, Shivaree has released an excellent album in Who’s Got Trouble?. It is a bold statement that a group so ignored and so mistreated by their record label has released an album so good, full of hook-laden tracks. Lead singer Ambrosia Parsley sounds like a younger sister of Sheryl Crow armed with mystique and much more interesting lyrics to sing. She’s such a great vocalist that it’s easy to lose track of the other two members of Shivaree, Duke McVinnie and Danny McGough, two men who should not be overlooked for their songwriting chops and brilliant musicianship.
McVinnie and McGough bring experience to the table. Guitarist McVinnie played with such legends as Johnny Otis and J.J. Cale, while McGough has appeared with Tom Waits, most recently on his Mule Variations tour.
One of the coolest things about Who’s Got Trouble? is that the listener is hooked immediately. That is, some of the best songs on the album (“New Casablanca” and “I Close My Eyes”) appear immediately. Many artists and producers worry that placing the best songs on the album at the beginning will lead to blowing their load prematurely, but the album remains sold consistently.
Like their other albums, Who’s Got Trouble? has a wide range of styles and sounds without sounding too all over the place. “It Got All Black” is a country ballad done up Shivaree style, which seems out of place on first listen, but after repeated listening becomes another highlight of the album.
A few of the tracks are reminiscent of “Goodnight Moon,” sounding straight out of a Pink Panther movie, like the perfect soundtrack to a spy adventure film. (It’s no surprise then that their music has been used in film and television, including Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill, Vol 2.) These include “I Close My Eyes” and “Little Black Mess,” two of the album’s obvious highlights.
The album also contains two interesting cover selections. On one end of the spectrum we have Dave Bartholomew’s New Orleans R&B classic “Someday,” delivered with spacey keyboards and electronic noises and horns. At the other end we have a rare Brian Eno cover in “The Fat Lady of Limbourg,” a song that originally appeared on Eno’s 1974 album Taking Tiger Mountain by Strategy.
It says a lot about the current state of music in America when a group like Shivaree fails to have their talent recognized by their own native country. Like so many other talented groups, Shivaree’s music would be ideal Top 40 material. Their songs are modern without sounding too “out there,” and grounded in Tin Pan Alley and other classic songwriting forms without sounding too derivative. Perhaps in the new era of satellite radio their music will flourish. In the meantime, the few of us lucky enough to have heard their music are busy spreading the word about a group that is appealing in so many ways.
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Reviewed by Stephen Gill
If you watch the film Deep Blues by music historian Robert Palmer, you’ll see a segment filmed in the North Mississippi hill country, featuring R. L. Burnside, Jesse Mae Hemphill, and Junior Kimbrough. Here the blues is dance music and no one does a better job of getting them on the floor than Junior. With his soulful voice and distinctive guitar style, Kimbrough was best recorded live, usually at his juke joint where on Sunday nights, Junior would plug in with his son Kenny Malone on drums and Gary Burnside on bass. Junior’s recording career was brief, his first album on Fat Possum was in 1992 when he was 62. He died of heart failure at the age of 67.
The album Sunday Nights: the Songs of Junior Kimbrough has sixteen tracks, beginning and ending with Iggy and the Stooges doing two chaotic versions of “You Better Run.” Junior opened for the Stooges on a brief tour in 1996. The Black Keys’ guitar player Dan Auerbach must have been channeling Junior when he recorded “My Mind is Rambling.” This song is almost worth the price of admission on its own.
Songs that were originally rough ideas set down on tape are explored further here by the Fiery Furnaces doing a frenetic version of “I’m Leaving” and Thee Shams sounding like British invasion-era Rolling Stones doing “Release Me.” Another song that falls into this category is “Meet Me in the City.” Though originally a rough take with just Junior and his guitar, it is one of his most soulful singing performances along with a hook-laden guitar riff repeated throughout the song. The Blues Explosion cover the song on Sunday Nights, along with special guest guitarist Elliott Smith on one of his last recordings, but unfortunately miss the mark.
Overall the disc delivers some fine performances. Ex-Screaming Trees frontman Mark Lanegan gets down and dirty on “All Night Long,” Iggy Pop guitarist Whitey Kirst rumbles through “Pull Your Clothes Off,” and the Heartless Bastards give “Done Got Old” a fresh spin. I thought that Cat Power would be great for this project, but “Do The Romp,” her contribution with Fat Possum artist Entrance, falls flat.
Besides being a great live performer, Junior Kimbrough was also a great songwriter. The songs still come through, even though fifteen different artists contribute. A good tribute album will make you want to go back and hear the originals again. This is the case with Sunday Nights.
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