50 Foot Wave - Golden Ocean ArtistDirect BMG
Reviewed by Russell Bartholomee
From the first few seconds of the furious opening of “Long Painting,” it’s clear that 50 Foot Wave is not merely Throwing Muses with a new drummer. Both bands are fronted by Kristin Hersh, and they both feature Bernard Georges on bass, but Golden Ocean sounds about as much like a Throwing Muses record as Frank Black sounds like the Pixies. There are common elements, but it’s clearly a different band. Vive la difference; 50 Foot Wave is a great band. I thought (and still think) that the last Muses record was powerful. I’m astounded by the power of Golden Ocean.
It’s a marvelous record, “fully equipped with fire and music” (to paraphrase Bette Davis in All About Eve). Much more firmly rooted in punk and hard rock than any of Hersh’s previous efforts have been, it would nevertheless be a mistake to think of it simply as a punk record. While the fury and power of punk are present, Hersh’s songs are more complex, both rhythmically and melodically. Rob Ahlers’ drumming is the driving force of the power trio, pounding relentless and intricate rhythms that drastically shift time signature and tempo without warning. Bernard Georges’ percussive, pulsing bass lines perfectly complement both Ahlers' drums and Hersh’s fierce, insistent guitar playing. The result is positively ferocious: a churning, swirling, muscular, musical boot to the head. (I mean that in a good way). It’s difficult to believe that all that sound is coming from only three people. The band is incredibly tight, and it’s easy to see that a live performance by 50 Foot Wave would be a treat.
And then there’s Hersh’s voice, which is stunning throughout Golden Ocean’s eleven songs. She sings with intensity that she only hinted at on Muses tunes like “Pretty or Not” and “Hook in her Head.” And if you’re looking for the dulcet tones of most of her (mainly acoustic) solo records, you’re looking in the wrong place. This is Kristin Hersh running riot, and it’s frightening and glorious in the same intoxicating instant.
It’s just about impossible to keep your head from bobbing along with every song. Musically, there’s simply not a weak track to be found. The album kicks off energetically with the riff-heavy “Long Painting,” and you don’t get a chance to catch your breath until the closing title track is over. Each song along the way is vigorously satisfying. The catchy shout-along chorus of “Clara Bow” is so infectious that my two-year-old son was singing along with it on first listen. And thanks to the forceful triplets with which Ahlers punctuates its chorus, it is challenging to drive at slow speeds while listening to “Dog Days.”
Hersh’s lyrics are as strong as ever. They have a commanding presence that matches the potency of the music. In “Bone China,” she struggles with an unfulfilling, yet addictive relationship: “Last gasp nymphomania/Somehow desexualized/Gonna wash that man right out of my head/And soap him into my eyes…” (Her performance here is mesmerizing, as she repeats that last line again and again, with increasing amounts of anger and conviction). In “Dog Days,” she explores a similar theme: “Simultaneously attracted and repelled/If you don’t know by now I’ll never tell/I wake up a ton of un-kissed guilt/Just keep telling me this is life and we didn’t miss it.”
The whole experience is superbly cathartic, and only gets better with repeated listening. An impressive follow-up to last year’s self-titled EP, Golden Ocean should please any fan of intelligent, edgy modern rock. Obviously fans of Throwing Muses and Hersh’s solo work will find the album richly rewarding, but fans of the Pixies, Sugar, and early Clash should be very pleased as well. Especially at a time when most music is so disposable and “punk” is usually taken to mean fluff like Blink-182 and Sum 41, it’s great to know that someone with Hersh’s talent and credibility is still willing to show the kids how to rock with 50 Foot Wave. Avril, your 15 minutes are up.
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...And You Will Know Us By The Trail of the Dead - Worlds Apart Interscope
Reviewed by Stephen Gill
When I first saw the name “…And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of The Dead,” I thought they were going to be a leather-clad thrash metal type of band. Little did I know that they were three guys from Austin, Texas that play smart, powerful rock and roll. So where did they come up with a name like that? If you go to their website, www.trailofdead.com, you’ll get a full explanation, but basically it is text from an ancient Mayan religious rite performed on their new year summoning the corn god Apuk. We shouldn’t worry too much about the name of the band though, especially when the music is so good. Their fifth disc, Worlds Apart, rocks through the intricate arrangements, musical dynamics, and strong melodies.
The disc opens up with an intro, “Ode to Isis,” that could have been out of one of the Omen movies, but after one minute and sixteen seconds runs into the ferocious guitar attack of “Will You Smile Again For Me.” The song eases down to a steady beat as Conrad Keely sings, before building to a crescendo in the end.
The music of Trail of the Dead will inevitably be lumped into easy “progressive rock” or “art rock” categories/genres. The songs flow into each other in a Pink Floyd type of way, and you’ll hear samples of kids and jungle animals. After the song “Let It Dive” we get a short violin piece “To Russia My Homeland.” But there are songs on the disc that could go far on commercial radio if given the chance. The songs “The Rest Will Follow” and “Caterwaul” are songs that will stay in your head long after you hear them.
The CD’s insert artwork is stunning; like something you’d see in a Frank Miller graphic novel. The lyrics, written in calligraphy by Keely, are not run of the mill rock verse. In “Fine Arts Showcase” our singer is sitting in front of the television wondering if he should do something more productive but decides he’s more comfortable with the remote within reach, not having to think. In “All White” we get a description of a night at the symphony then drinks with friends and eventually a date with his sink where the world turns “all white.” This song actually sounds like a tribute to the Beatles’ “White Album.”
Worlds Apart is a solid disc all the way through with great songwriting, and longtime producer Michael McCarthy provides a rich, layered recording without covering up the songs. In the song “Worlds Apart” the lyric is “Look at those cunts on MTV, with their cars, and cribs, and rings and shit, is that what being a celebrity means?” The Trail of the Dead better watch it, they just might find out.
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Bob Collum & The Welfare Mothers - The Boy Most Likely To...
Reviewed by Adam D. Miller
Bob Collum is not the first American singer-songwriter to relocate to England and assemble an English band. Jimi Hendrix did it in the 1960s, and Chrissie Hynde followed suit in the 70s with the formation of The Pretenders. Hendrix and Hynde recognized the move as a smart one, and for Collum & The Welfare Mothers it will hopefully result in the same success.
When Collum e-mailed me about his third album, The Boy Most Likely To… (his first with The Welfare Mothers), he introduced himself as an alt. country musician in the vein of Wilco or Steve Earle. Indeed, the alt. country influences are to be found on The Boy Most Likely To… Snuck between the twelve originals is a cover of the Gram Parsons-penned Byrds tune “One Hundred Years From Now,” and some of the album’s originals are quite folk oriented, such as “The Joke’s On You,” which features prominent mandolin, and more lyrical-oriented country influences on tracks like “Murder In Arkansas.”
Despite all that, The Boy Most Likely To… seems more grounded in classic British pop, at times reminiscent of The Hollies (“Merry Go Round”) or Badfinger (“Blue Enough”). Nowhere is this more evident than on album-highlight “Goodbye Walter,” a song which wouldn’t sound out of place on an episode of The Monkees. And yes, I mean that as a compliment.
My only criticism is that sometimes Collum’s songs and vocals don’t seem to fit together. Collum is a great singer, with an almost John Lennon-esque delivery. At the same time, he tends to hold back a little bit when his singing turns to the more aggressive. If Collum would only really belt it out on tracks like “Less Than Predictable,” the songs would be better for it. His voice is much more effective on the more pop-oriented songs like “A Little Less Soul.”
Collum has a knack for writing hummable melodies and catchy choruses. It’s no wonder that some of this generation’s finest songwriters (Ron Sexsmith, Dave Alvin, and John Wesley Harding to name a few) have enlisted his services for their live performances in the past. Anyone who wants to hear what Top 40 sounds like in a perfect world should pick up The Boy Most Likely To..., and turn it up.
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Reviewed by Ted Spas
This album is pretty darn heavy, all right. Heavy like twenty bowling balls wrapped in a wet quilt. Heavy like an elephant made of concrete carrying a lead Biz Markie on its back. Heavy like lower end of the Periodic Table heavy. Heavy like two giant robots made out of discarded construction equipment rampaging across a devastated nuclear wasteland, going punch-out crazy on each other, winner getting to squash your puny human president. It's a funny coincidence, too, because that robot fight business is pretty much what Absence sounds like. “BeepbeepBEEPBEEPWHOOSHAUUGH HWAHWAHWAHBOOMBOOMTSHH," etc. With Rapping.
I'm being a flippant jerk about it, but the truth is Absence is pretty swell. Sure, it runs almost an hour without even going near a tune. It features no modern conveniences like your "club bangers" or your "slow jams," and distinguishing one song from another is as futile an activity as any you care to name. But it's got massive head-nodding ill dub beats, some pretty slick turntable work and a double hard MC who "swallow[s] razor blades to keep [his] vocal cords sharp" and spits lyrical darts like "genocide to Genesis, the last chapter/conceal the fact, the man Jesus was black." It’s so much better than Kanye West, it's scary.
What's more, Absence is gorgeous. The waves of buzzing electronics and howling feedback build and swirl and crash into each other, layer on majestic layer of drones, pulses and howls. The cynics among you may point out that the same can be said of almost any noise recording, but that's just one of many reasons why noise is superior to the majority of modern pop music. I'm sick to death of hearing that Missy Elliot's beats are "avant garde" when right over here are Dalek, and their shit sounds like Darth Vader fighting Phillip Glass in a wind tunnel.
So if Absence is flawed (and it is), its flaws are at least the result of an adventurous spirit and musical experimentation, rather than pop-chart aspiring cowardice. Dalek are fueled by a genuinely righteous fury, and Absence delivers far more transcendent beauty and cathartic rage than it does repetition and boredom.
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Emm Gryner – Songs of Love and Death Dead Daisy Records/Outside Music
Reviewed by Lisa Hood-Anklewicz
Emm Gryner has a luxury that many singer-songwriters are not afforded in today’s cut-throat music market. Gryner owns her own record label, Dead Daisy Records, and therefore enjoys full freedom to express her musical creativity without the worry of the commerciality of it. So when it came time for Gryner to record her seventh album, the idea of an entire album of Irish musician covers was within Gryner’s power to explore.
Songs of Love and Death gives you eleven songs which, although not originally of her own creation, Gryner has defiantly left her mark on. Known for her often haunting vocals, the songs flow together with a sense of whimsicalness, and Gryner’s voice leads the listener through an emotional journey. While working on the project, Gryner found two recurring themes in the music she was exploring, love and death. Working within these themes, Gryner transforms each song into a new presentation, often with an opportunity to explore the song from a different emotional view.
Gryner transforms a song like “Breathless” by The Coors, originally a high energy, upbeat, generally happy tune, into a slow mournful lament over the stripped down sound of just piano, clarinet and cello. Gryner’s voice leads the listener through the lyrics of the song as though it were almost a suicide note from a brokenhearted lover. The transformation is so complete that Gryner has reported that many concertgoers have not recognized the song as The Coors in any form.
Other works that Gryner takes on include a piano/vocal solo version of Thin Lizzy’s “Running Back”; an upbeat, toe-tapping rendition of Therapy?’s rather lyrically depressing “Nowhere”; a waltz around Gilbert O’Sullivan’s “Nothing Rhymed”; 1970’s punk-rock band The Virgin Prunes’ “Bau-Dachong” becomes a haunting vocal floating over banjo for the majority of the song. Other artists include, The Thrills, Ash, The Undertones, and Horslips.
Songs of Love and Death is not Gryner’s first release of covered material. In 2001, she released Girl Versions, containing a wide variety of material from male artists altered (in a way that only Gryner can) into a “girl’s version.” However, this does not mean that Songs of Love and Death, Gryner’s second cover album in four years, is any indication that she is running low on her own creative juices. Just one listen of Songs of Love and Death will show that Gryner’s still putting in 100%, just as she has with all her original material. Gryner has marked these songs with her own personal flavour so successfully, that if you didn’t know it was a covers album, Songs of Love and Death would easily flow with Gryner’s original catalogue.
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The Frames - Burn the Maps Epitaph/Anti-
Reviewed by Brighid Mooney
In their native Ireland, the Frames have found huge success, their popularity even rivaling that of fellow Dubliners U2, while in the United States and around most of the world, they remain largely unknown. But over the last several years they've been gaining notoriety in indie rock circles in the US and seem poised on the edge of mainstream success to match that of their homeland. Their newest album, Burn the Maps, is the Frames' fifth studio album and their first with new label Anti, coming nearly five years after their last album, 2000's For the Birds. For the Birds was the album that broke the Frames from obscure cult band into one of the biggest bands in Ireland, creating a ripple effect reaching around the world as they toured with Damien Rice in support of the platinum-selling record. This year's Burn the Maps is a refinement of that sound, the classically melancholy folk style the Frames are known for, with fringes of incendiary passion, melding together into beautiful dynamic melodies, an amalgamation of longing, regret, anger and sentimentality.
There is a certain formula to the Frames' music; Slow, languid, sultry songs that methodically build into heart-wrenching crescendos. That's not to say the music is boring though. On the contrary, each song feels infinitely separate from the last, although at the end of the album there is no song that feels out of place. The buildup is usually slow, mysteriously taking you in before you realize it, so that by the time the payoff comes, you are fully immersed, and completely invested. Conversely, the lyrics are simply stated, unambiguous and undemanding. The result is a subtle grace, unabashedly genuine and sincere. In the very first song, "Happy," Glen Hansard croons in smooth falsetto "and you're putting a line/where there should not be a line/and you're building divides." Such simple, straightforward lyrics make little sense on paper, but in the context of the song, and in Hansard's capable voice, the words take on a deeper meaning. Burn the Maps also includes "Fake," a chart-topping single released back in 2003. Even if you weren't aware that it was the Frames, the song was catchy and hard to avoid and features the marauding aggression that frequently creeps into Frames' songs in the most unobtrusive way possible, as Hansard sings "Come on the guy's a fake, what do you love him for?" in a moment of hurt and jilted anger.
With Hansard's falsettos, both lilting and ambient, giving way to dark, uninhibited crooning, and Colm MacConlomaire's subtle violin and keyboard accompaniment, the rest of the band follows in creating a moving, inexorable background of music. The end result is an album both sweeping and uplifting, epic and intimate, beautiful and emotional. If Burn the Maps isn't the one to take the Frames over the top in the US and through the rest of the world, the album that will can't be far off.
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Jack Logan - Nature's Assembly Line Orange Twin Records
Reviewed by Todd Mincks
Jack Logan’s music is about celebration. His best recordings are tributes to the moment—songs for the sake of singing. That celebration is what made his debut album (1994’s Bulk) so appealing. Bulk contained a collection of Logan’s homemade four track recordings that were written and performed for anything but commercial release. Instruments were out of tune, tempos lurched and dragged, but the quality of the songs was staggering. They were authentic in every sense of the word. Logan was not creating a “product,” but following his passion. We weren’t supposed to hear those recordings, which is precisely what made them great.
After the critics and Bulk made him relatively famous (for about 15 minutes), Logan continued to record. Although each subsequent effort contained some fine songwriting, his work has failed to match the organic quality of Bulk. Now with his new release, Nature’s Assembly Line, Logan has found a way to go back home again.
The story goes that Logan and his Athens, GA buddies would get together every Monday night in 2003 with the goal of drinking beer and recording several songs (on the trusty four track). While the musicians would record the basic tracks, Logan would quickly write some lyrics. After the vocals were recorded, they would mix down the final product and erase the original tracks. There would be no going back to tamper with the mix; it was music for the moment. All in all, they produced 94 songs, 15 of which ended up on Nature’s Assembly Line. Like Bulk, these songs were released by the request of a label, and were not originally meant for public ears.
Logan likes to toy with several musical genres, and does so here. The record starts off strongly with some drunken rock (“I Recognize You”), and along the way we get some experimental rock (“Don’t Remember Where It Is”), and even punk (“River of Sweat”). However, the strength of the record is found within Logan’s signature brand of country and folk rock. Several of these quieter songs (“Little Fool,” “Broken Machines,” and “Spotty Glassware”) beautifully showcase Logan’s gift for transforming life’s mundane details into poignant commentaries.
While many of the tracks shine, there are some uneven moments. Ultimately, the rough spots come off as throwaway testaments to the spirit of the project. After all, these are all songs that were written in one quick sitting, with no editing allowed. The fact is Logan didn’t record these songs for anyone but himself and his friends. These songs are the life of their particular party, and it’s just fun to be invited. We all need records like this in our collection to remind us that the music industry hasn’t cornered the market on what makes music special. No, we weren’t supposed to hear Nature’s Assembly Line, but that’s reason enough to listen.
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Jess Klein – Strawberry Lover Rykodisc
Reviewed by Adam D. Miller
If you were to place half a cup of Emmylou Harris, four tablespoons of The Pretenders, and a drop of Shelby Lynne into a blender and spin it around for a few minutes, you’ll have Strawberry Lover, the latest album from Jess Klein, a singer-songwriter who may be labeled as a country-rock singer, but is much, much more.
Strawberry Lover is probably more of a rock ‘n’ soul album than a country album. Klein’s voice may contain traces of Emmylou Harris, but is more reminiscent of Lucinda Williams in its ability to really belt it out. As the Ramones-like count-in (“1, 2, 3, 4!”) indicates, the songs are more indebted to raunchy rock ‘n’ roll and vintage soul. Opening track “Darkroom” wouldn’t sound out of place on an early Pretenders record, while “Shonalee” is a great soulful ballad with a sing-a-long chorus. The lyrics are clearly very country-influenced. “Soda Water” is a bluesy gospel, and features a great choral backing. Stylistically, the most country-influenced song on the album is “Shootout at the Candy Shop,” which sounds a lot like the sort of Mexi-Cali romps mastered by Calexico.
If Strawberry Lover reminded me of another album it would be Shelby Lynne’s 2000 album I Am Shelby Lynne. It may not be as confessional, but stylistically it is very similar, in its soulful vision and big heartedness. Shallower female singer-songwriters should take notice. Music can and does matter, and it’s the strength of the material that makes Strawberry Lover a delicious album.
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Joel Plaskett - La De Da Maple Music Recordings
Reviewed by Adam M. Anklewicz
I went into this album with high expectations. Plaskett’s previous solo album, In Need Of Medical Attention, is my favourite of his work; Thrush Hermit and the Emergency included. La De Da has its highs and lows, but most of the album seems to ride out in the middle. Very little of the material stands out as exceptional, but those four songs really do make the album worthwhile. “Happen Now”, “Lying On A Beach”, “Natural Disaster” and “Love This Town” are all among Plaskett’s best songs.
With one hand dipped in traditional music and the other in rock ‘n’ roll, Plaskett tries to meld the two. Often this disrupts the flow and the disc comes across more as two EPs shuffled together rather than a proper album.
The album kicks off with a minute-and-a-half long song called “Absentminded Melody,” which could be a very pretty song. Unfortunately, Plaskett’s vocal performance is not up to par, and it sounds like he had been singing for twelve hours straight. If more effort was put into this song, it could have been one of the best. Backwards guitar abruptly takes over the song and leads into “Happen Now,” which is a bit disrupting to the flow that should have been established with those two songs.
“Nina and Albert” is an interesting concept of a dialogue, with Albert’s voice backed with an electric guitar, and Nina’s an acoustic. Unfortunately the song isn’t interesting enough to keep my attention from wandering.
Plaskett’s best songs often seem to take something mundane like a trip from Nova Scotia to Arizona and turn them it into something beautiful. “I left Nova Scotia/ Headed down the coast / Tore a strip off Memphis/ Before I left for Roanoke / I punished Pecos County/ And headed for Las Cruces / everyone around me / will be covered in my bruises.” “Natural Disaster” is one of the highlights of this album, with electric and acoustic guitars and pedal steel all merging together to create a great soundscape.
Sounding like a reject from his previous album Truthfully Truthfully, “Truth Be Told” features bass and drums at the core of the song. It was a popular style he used on the previous album, but it doesn’t work as well on this song. “Truth Be Told” isn’t nearly as funny or funky as “Work Out Fine” or “Extraordinary” from Truthfully Truthfully.
“Love This Town” is a simple song by a man and his guitar about his love for his home. “Nobody cares how much money you have / if you’ve got enough to get in a cab / there’ll be drinks on the house / if your house burns down / there’s a reason that I love this town.” This song truly shows the humour that fills Plaskett’s songs and why he is a great songwriter. “I played a show in Kelowna last year / said ‘pick it up Joel, we’re dying in here’ / picture one hand clapping, now picture half that sound / there’s a reason that I hate that town”. Perhaps it won’t be a popular song out west, but the rest of the nation will love it.
The low points are low, but when it gets going, Plaskett pulls out no stops. Still, this is definitely not the place to start. If you’re new to Plaskett’s work, buy a copy of In Need Of Medical Attention instead.
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Lewis Black - Luther Burbank Performing Arts Center Blues Comedy Central Records
Reviewed by Brighid Mooney
Lewis Black has found a definite niche in the modern American comedy scene as the country's "foremost commentator on everything," as he indignantly pontificates about anything and everything in the American way of life, from pop culture to politics. His fourth comedy CD, Luther Burbank Performing Arts Center Blues, was recorded on June 18 of last year and is similar in style to his first three albums, even maintaining some of the same jokes. The new material, however, is particularly relevant to current social and political happenings, just as you would expect from someone who makes a weekly appearance on a comedy news show. One difference though is that Black's now-famous outrage almost seems toned down at times. The buildup to his angry outbursts is slower, more methodical, taking a less direct approach. One of the best examples of this is in the very first subject Black tackles: last year's Super Bowl halftime show. After spending a great deal of time (nearly half of the album's 12 tracks) on or around the events surrounding 2004's Super Bowl extravaganza, Black digresses into a nearly perfectly-realized rant about gay marriage before coming back around to where he started. It’s a marvelously circuitous approach to topical stand-up comedy which only shows Black's prowess as a master comedian. Black seems particularly enraged by the media, which acted as a kind of circus, elevating a mere "wardrobe malfunction" to a level of frenzy over a national moral disintegration. On stage, Black takes on the voice of the ubiquitous TV pundit: "Oh my god, did you see what happened at the halftime show yesterday? Janet Jackson's breast was exposed, it was horrifying. Let's take a look at it."
Aside from the copious material dealing with the Super Bowl halftime show and all of its aftereffects, Black also spends quite a bit of time on the subject of politics, riffing on gay marriage, the pledge of allegiance, the then-upcoming presidential election and the Iraq war. The main point he makes during the course of the album, besides the absurdity of Americans and the things we find inexplicably offensive, is basically that all the things which we, as a country, are most concerned with, are ridiculously stupid. Black wonders aloud how, after September 11th, we can even really waste time being worried with things as comparatively innocuous as gay marriage or the pledge of allegiance. "If the atheist doesn't want their child to say 'under God,' says Black, "then the atheist should just have their child say 'under dog.' That way you have the same amount of syllables and you end at the same time. And that's what diversity is all about."
As usual, current politics is a popular focus of Black's wrath, and he warns the audience early into one of his jokes that he had plenty to say about Bill Clinton when he was president as well. "If you want to elect George Bush, that's the prick I'm gonna yell about," he says. "If you want to elect John Kerry, I'm gonna be yelling about him. My problem is with, huh huh ... authority!" Here, Black is at his best, ranting about the inherent absurdities of the US political system. Though he doesn't limit his loathing to one party or the other (although the party in charge will always bear the brunt of his frustrations), his willingness to lacerate politicians from both sides makes his political comedy universally enjoyable. And with far more than the few minutes he is given on The Daily Show, Black is able to expound greatly on many of his comedic political theories, with hilarious results.
Luther Burbank is not made up of completely new material, and hardcore fans who already own his first three albums may be disappointed by the presence of repeat jokes, but there is still plenty here to enjoy. Where outrage equals comedy, Lewis Black is one of the best, and this album proves that once again.
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Manuel Guajiro Mirabal - Buena Vista Social Club Presents... Nonesuch
Reviewed by Adam D. Miller
With the 1997 release of Buena Vista Social Club, American musician/producer Ry Cooder introduced some of Cuba’s most talented musicians and vocalists to the rest of the world. The album is among the top selling world music albums and has gone on to spark several off-shoot albums. These have also found varying degrees of success, most notably Buena Vista Social Club Presents Ibrahim Ferrer and Buena Vista Social Club Presents Omara Portuondo. There are also a handful of other Nonesuch releases focused on Buena Vista Social Club members Compay Segundo and Ruben Gonzalez. The albums each highlight the incredible musicianship of the individuals involved, particularly in Ferrer’s case, who had only recently been blessed with success late in their lives.
Manuel Guajrio Mirabal is by no means one of the major players on Buena Vista Social Club, but his trumpet playing certainly helped to propel tracks like “Chan Chan” and “Dos Gardenias.” With the release of Buena Vista Social Club Presents Manuel Guajiro Mirabal, we get the opportunity to hear more trumpet-oriented material with a range of guest vocalists including Carlos M. Calunga, Diego Ramon Palacio, Aldo Del Rio, Tirso Oriol Duarte Lescay, and Buena Vista Social Club alum Ibrahim Ferrer.
The album is a tribute to Arsenio Rodriguez, a blind tres player who, according to the liner notes, is “one of the great figures in the development of Cuban music.” I’m not quite sure as to why a trumpet player wouldn’t dedicate his debut to, say, a trumpet player, but the album succeeds in putting the listener in another place, much like Buena Vista Social Club.
A lion’s share of the album’s tracks are sung by Carlos M. Calunga, a relative newcomer to the music showcased here and a much younger singer than those usually employed on Buena Vista Social Club recordings. As someone who loved the vocals on Buena Vista Social Club, I found myself wishing he didn’t hog so many of the tracks.
A vocalist I would have liked to hear more of, for instance, is Ibrahim Ferrer. Ferrer only appears on one track, and while “Deuda” is a true highlight of the album it leaves us wanting more. The good news is that at least we have several Ferrer albums to turn to. The lack of Ferrer shouldn’t take away from our focus, which should be based around the music and not soloists.
Much of the vocal credit should go to the album’s great coro (choir), which features 11 men singing in unison. More than the soloists, the coro conveys the Cuban traditionalism evoked in this music. Aside from the great trumpet playing led by Mirabal, we also get to hear the great guitar playing of Manuel Galban, who recently appeared with Ry Cooder on the instrumental guitar album Mambo Sinuendo.
There is no better place to start discovering the music of Cuba and Buena Vista Social Club than the original 1997 album, but if you’ve already worn out your copy, Buena Vista Social Club Presents Manuel Guajiro Mirabal is a great place to continue your journey, especially if you have an appreciation for horn playing.
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Reviewed by Russell Bartholomee
I’m embarrassed to say that when I first received McLemore Avenue’s 926 East CD, I wasn’t sure what to expect musically. Had I been paying a smattering of attention to the cover art, I would have instantly realized what I only managed to figure out halfway through the second song. First, there’s a giant Hammond B-3 organ on the cover. Then there’s the group’s name and the album title, both of which are direct references to Stax Records (the address of which was…wait for it…926 East McLemore Avenue. See what they did there)?
That this instrumental outfit from Austin, Texas would name themselves and their album after the legendary home of Soulsville, USA is bold enough. That they actually made a Stax-worthy record without sounding like a pale imitation of Booker T. & the MGs is astounding. McLemore Avenue obviously have a great deal of admiration for that sweet 60s soul vibe that Stax made famous. But as ably as they play that Memphis music, these 11 original tunes have a unique and distinctively Texas twang to them that defy being defined as “mere” homage.
Not that you’d be blamed for mistaking several of 926 East’s tracks as covers of Booker T. originals. First of all, organist Patrick Barker-Benfield plays the B-3 like someone who’s heard “Green Onions” a time or twenty. He wrote or co-wrote all the songs, and the arrangements are all anchored around his organ (especially the very “Onions”-esque “About Face”). And then there’s “Tree-Hug-Her” whose name obviously brings the MGs’ “Hip-Hug-Her” to mind (without ripping off its sound).
But there are other influences at work here as well. Guitarist Landis Armstrong brings blistering blues and country licks to several of the tracks (“Texas Toast” and “FUBAR”), not to mention surf guitar and theremin (“A Toy Robot!”). Eric C. Hughes and Chris Johnson lay down one solid groove after the next on drums and bass, respectively. They blend blues, jazz, swing, soul, funk, rock, and Latin rhythms with adroitness (check out “Me Gusta” and “FUBAR” to hear many of the above in one song).
The band’s ability to marry many styles together serves them well. The shortcoming of many instrumental groups in recent years has been a lack of variety. They may have one really cool sounding song, but too often that’s all they have—the same song over and over. McLemore Avenue, happily, do not fall in this trap. While they are purposefully grounded in Stax-era soul, every track on the disc has a distinct sound. In this regard, McLemore Avenue reminds me a lot of modern groove/jazz combos like Medeski Martin & Wood or the Charlie Hunter Quartet. Those acts have managed to make subtle variations on their signature sounds so that things remain fresh from record to record. 926 East is a great pleasure to listen to, with a rich variety of sounds and textures that sound classic and fresh at the same time. Mr. Jones would approve.
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Sage Francis – A Healthy Distrust Epitaph
Reviewed by Brighid Mooney
Hip hop isn't typically associated with Rhode Island, but then, not many things about Sage Francis are typically hip hop. A one-time devout listener of groundbreaking groups like Run DMC and Public Enemy, Francis bears the torch of intelligent, politically conscious rap lyrics backed by killer beats. Francis, until now a strictly underground artist, made a leap above ground when he signed with Epitaph to release A Healthy Distrust. The album is only his second full-length release, but already Sage Francis is making a name for himself in the musical mainstream. An established battle rapper and spoken word poet, Francis is best known by his listeners for his insightful and introspective lyrics, both acknowledging and accusing, merciless and engaging, and above all, mind-blowingly literate. With an AA in communications and a BA in journalism, Francis is equal parts hip hop poet and political pundit. His songs can be heavy-handed with their political message, and at times can seem almost too verbose, but the passion and lucidity behind them is their saving grace. Highly politically charged, but with humor to spare, A Healthy Distrust takes on nearly everything in the modern political landscape, from guns to class warfare, healthcare to education, religion to the two party system. The West Memphis 3 get a mention along with Biggie Smalls, Christopher Columbus and even Ted Nugent's head, all finding their way into fifteen songs packed with cultural references and sly wordplay, Francis barely stopping for breath in between lines.
The album begins with a song called "The Buzz Kill," which rants against everything from radio programming to the state of the nation while taking time to throw a kiss of thanks at the French. "Radio suckers never play this/they're scared shitless of dismissing Clear Channel playlists/poorly developed yet highly advanced/black music intertwined with a white man's line dance." After working its way from City Hall to the court room, the song ends with a powerful declaration against the United States' post-9/11 fear and accepted racism toward foreigners: "Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free? Take them back. Your homeless tempest-tost to me? Take them back. The USA has cracked." Keeping with the liberal agenda, Francis continues with "Gunz Yo," a viciously satirical song which lambastes mainstream rappers' obsession with firearms, begs the world for a policy of non-violence and pokes fun at the sexuality inherent in the pistol metaphor, especially in rap music. "It might remind you of a mic the way I hold it to the grill of a homophobic rapper/ Unaware of the graphic nature of phallic symbols/ Tragically ironic, sucking off each others gats and pistols." In this song he is taking rap apart from the inside; using the very medium he decries to point out its fallacies. Sharp, aggressive and unrelenting, he takes modern rap to task with a wry facetiousness. "An intravenous hook up feeds bullets to my magazine/Nevermind the Bollocks, my pistol is a sex machine!"
The album's first single is one of the more easily rhythmic and accessible songs. Called "Slow Down Gandhi," it is "whistleblower versus pistol holder," and deals with welfare, healthcare and the disappearing middle class. It also manages to deal a sharp hook to the US president with lines like "Who's the one to blame for the strain of the vocal cords? Who can pen hateful threats but can't hold a sword? It's the same one who complain about the global war, but can't overthrow the local joker that they voted for." A Healthy Distrust ends in a more somber and respectful mood than is conveyed by the rest of the album, in a guitar and harmonica tribute to one of Francis' childhood heroes, Johnny Cash. It may seem like an unusual subject for hip hop, but considering the rest of the subject matter getting time on the album, it makes perfect sense in context, and is a moving, heartfelt eulogy to the late country idol.
Sage Francis may present his politics with a sometimes irritatingly heavy hand, but his songs are solid and his lyrics more literate than almost anything else in music today. Imbued with humor, intelligence and a well-informed worldview, A Healthy Distrust stands out head and shoulders above the mostly mindless, style over substance hip hop dominating the music scene today. Not bad for a 27-year-old white guy from Rhode Island.
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Six Organs of Admittance - School of the Flower Drag City
Reviewed by Jacob S. Knabb
The School Of The Flower is Ben Chesney’s cross-over album. But what does that mean precisely? After all, there are different sorts of “cross-over albums,” some more apparently incipient to popular culture than others. Is this Chesney’s Good News For People Who Like Bad News? His Nevermind? Well, not exactly. Even given the “Indie-friendly” climate of contemporary alternative music (or whatever satellite radio has dubbed it), it would be more than a bit of a stretch to say that Six Organs Of Admittance are radio-friendly or hook-laden. This is more akin to Chesney’s Electric Larryland. So, perhaps it’s not a crossover album in the strictest of senses. But with the heightened production values accorded Chesney by Drag City, the steady advances in his song-writing and guitar playing, as well as the tongue-jamming intensity of the eponymous track, and, perhaps most importantly, the amazing percussion of Chris Corsano, there is plenty about The School Of The Flower that smacks of an artistic breakthrough.
For an artist as prolific as Chesney, a guitarist with this level of talent, artistic breakthroughs are to be expected, and often elicit a less than ecstatic response from critics. It’s about time, the thinking goes, and sometimes rightly so. For Chesney, it’s as though he’s finally capitalizing on all that promise. It comes with the territory, one might say. But don’t be fooled by this line of reaction; this is a surprising album—even for an artist dogged by this brand of expectation.
Chesney’s vocals are hushed, restrained even; his guitar plucked gently, methodically, for the bulk of the first half of the album. The standout here is the opening suite, “Eighth Cognition/All You’ve Left.” Here Chesney utilizes the musical acumen that led Drag City to court him so fervently in the first place. Incorporating the sound he’d been honing on all those Holy Mountain releases, Chesney and Corsano take a seemingly fragile, almost malformed melody, imbibing it with surprisingly elastic movement. And from out of the din arises a song, full blown, the effects of which are satisfying as well as emotive, with all he impact of a dirge, but without the knee buckling overstatement.
By the time side two hits its stride, Six Organs Of Admittance truly begin to embody their moniker. Chesney is obviously fascinated with repetition, both for the inherent introversion it necessitates, as well the tension it creates. It goes without saying that the ties to Buddhism are evoked as well. All of this informs the title track. Chasney subverts typical song-structure on “The School Of The Flower,” establishing a stirring guitar line, then repeating it ceaselessly. As energy builds, the listener becomes caught up in the intensity of Chesney’s phrasing. Yet it isn’t the guitar that carries the central movement of the song, but rather the drums. Corsano is a drummer’s drummer, having attained the kind of respect among his free jazz inflected brethren that Chesney has elicited from fellow folk guitar virtuosos. As Chesney seamlessly loops his phrase again and again (and again), Corsano’s drumming ekes into the focal point: skittering, flirting with syncopation, subverting expectations as he is creating them with each return of Chasney’s hook.
By emptying the mind with his guitar work, Chesney allows Corsano’s percussive dialogue to guide the listener into meditative bliss. The effect is transcendent, easily earning the album’s referent, The School of the Flower Garland, one of Japan’s most important institutions of Chinese Hua-Yen Buddhism. Chesney closes things out with a subtle rendition of an obscure cover (“Thicker Than A Smokey”), and a slow boiler (“Lisbon”), leaving the listener hungry for more, and very apt to hit play right after the first moment of silence drones in their headphones.
Seemingly every facet of Chesney’s diverse body collective is in evidence on “The School Of The Flower.” This is an album that functions both as a recapitulation of his previous efforts, as well as an explosion of them. At right under 40 minutes, its brevity may be its only flaw, though the energy it attains through the absence of filler may be worth the brief running time. For fans, this will be a cherished document, and further proof that Drag City is an amazing label. For the uninitiated, this is the place to start, as the telescoping of “The School Of The Flower” will undoubtedly create connections to his manifold previous efforts. Perhaps Chesney’s claim that “folk fucked rock without the reach-around so rock is out to get some” is accurate. I’d doubt it, though. There’s nothing crass or thoughtless about this album. And, reach-around or not, folk guitar hasn’t felt this good in years.
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Soul Coughing – Rennes, France 03.12.94 Kufala
Soul Coughing – Tokyo, Japan 03.02.97 Kufala
Soul Coughing – Berlin/Amsterdam 1997 Kufala
Soul Coughing – New York, NY 16.08.99 Kufala
Reviewed by Russell Bartholomee
When Soul Coughing broke up in 2000, I was bummed. Not only had one of my favorite indie bands called it quits after a mere three studio albums without getting the mainstream attention they deserved, but I had never gotten the chance to see one of their legendary live shows. Those friends of mine who were also Soul Coughing fans and had seen them live only made matters worse by confirming that they had, indeed, been incredible in person. I placated myself by seeking out as many b-sides, demos, remixes, and live tracks as I could find on Napster, before it got shut down. (Sue me. Oh, and my real name is Rusty Shackleford). I assembled entire “concerts” from the tracks I scrounged up. The quality of the mp3s was always lousy, but it was as close to a live performance as I was going to get.
Thankfully, the band has just released a whopping five double-disc sets of career-spanning live performances on Kufala Records. Four of these are complete concerts from around the globe; the fifth is a collection of rare live tracks taken from various events from 1993-1997, some of which predate the band’s first studio release, Ruby Vroom. Taken together, the ten total discs comprise a very generous offering, serving to showcase Soul Coughing’s prowess on stage. And just as every one of its studio releases had a very different sound, these high-quality recordings document the evolution of the band’s live sound, from its early days of jazz-hop to its development into a killer drum ‘n’ bass combo.
Rennes, France 03.12.94 is a recording of the band’s first performance outside the United States, at the Transmusicale Festival. Soul Coughing put on a fabulous show, thrilling the crowd with its unique blend of beat poetry, jazz grooves, quirky samples, and Doughty’s half sung/half rapped delivery. All but a very few songs are taken from Ruby Vroom, and are played faithfully to the studio versions. There is one early performance of “White Girl,” which would later end up on Irresistible Bliss, as well as a few b-sides (“The Wooly Imbibe,” “Blow My Only,” and the rare “Mermaid,” which features samples from Bullwinkle). Every track is strong, but the highlights of this set are unquestionably “Casiotone Nation,” “Mr. Bitterness,” and “True Dreams of Wichita.” The crowd is extremely receptive to the band, and at the end of the evening, they chose Soul Coughing as best band of the festival.
Just over two years later, touring in support of Irresistible Bliss, the band ventured to Japan, from which the Tokyo, Japan 03.02.97 set is taken. These seventeen tracks were recorded over the course of two evenings, and they show the band in fine form. Especially strong is Mark De Gli Antoni’s work on the keyboard and sampler. As drummer Yuval Gabay and bassist Sebastian Steinberg solidly provide the funk foundation, De Gli Antoni infuses each song with the textures that define Soul Coughing’s sound. The most mind-blowing moment is the album’s closer, “Screenwriter’s Blues,” in which De Gli Antoni plays distorted samples of city sounds. Also outstanding are “Uh, Zoom, Zip” and “Disseminated.”
Berlin/Amsterdam is taken from later in the same year, and as good as Tokyo is, the band sounds much tighter and more comfortable with the Irresistible Bliss material here. Disc One is a complete show from Berlin, featuring sixteen tracks. “Super Bon Bon,” the band’s best-known single, is just as infectious live, as are “The Idiot Kings” and “Down to This.” We’re also treated to early versions of “So Far I Haven’t Found the Science” and “St. Louise is Listening.” It’s great to hear how these songs sounded before they were finalized on El Oso. But perhaps the highlight of this disc is the impromptu rendition of “Funky Town” at the center of the set. Disc two is a shorter set, recorded in Amsterdam at the North Sea Jazz Festival. Though brief, the band sounds fantastic, delivering great performances on all five tracks (including the excellent b-sides “Buddha Rhubarb Butter” and “Lemon Lime,” in which De Gli Antoni plays a sample of Tarzan’s yodel…and makes it work).
Perhaps the best of the series is New York, NY 16.08.99, which has the best sound quality and perhaps the most historical significance. It is a record of the band’s last-ever headlining performance, fittingly played in their hometown. It primarily features songs from El Oso, which was heavily influenced by the burgeoning drum ‘n’ bass movement of the late 90s. I always thought the band would have a difficult time replicating that sound live; I was quite wrong. They pull it off beautifully. A lot of the sonic quality of New York is owed to the fact that it’s a multi-track recording, engineered by Jason Pinsky. But the reality is that he merely managed to capture with fidelity the unbelievable performances of the band members—especially Gabay and Steinberg. The rhythm section is lockstep throughout, with Steinberg’s upright bass booming along with Gabay’s impossibly intricate percussion. “Rolling” and “Collapse” are hyper kinetic, as are “Blame” and “Miss the Girl.” The songs that are not from El Oso are given a bit of the drum ‘n’ bass treatment here as well, with startlingly good results. “Bus to Beelzebub” and “Mr. Bitterness” are presented on nearly all of the discs in the series, but they never sound better than here. There’s not a dull moment to be found, and the quality of the recording is almost enough to make up for never having seen the band.
The final disc in the series, Live Rarities, is a treat, especially for die-hard fans. In addition to pre-studio version live recordings of many Soul Coughing classics (“Casiotone Nation,” “Supra Genius,” and “Moon Sammy,” for example), there are also live versions of a number of the band’s b-sides and unreleased back catalogue. Only those who had scoured Napster (like our good friend Mr. Shackleford) will have previously heard rarities like “Laff on Fat Boy,” “I’m Living on Baby Food,” and “Woolly Imbibe.” The best of these is the frantic “Murder of Lawyers,” which features one of my favorite Doughty-isms: “I am the gat that fattens your jacket pocket/Plugs slugs in vain to the body of the immaterial witness.” I don’t know what it means either, but I like being able to finally hear it in high fidelity.
Since a Soul Coughing reunion seems ever more unlikely as Doughty pursues his solo career, the release of these five official bootlegs is very welcome. All five are very good, some exceptionally so. But at an asking price of over $20 (US) for each, it’s unlikely that most readers will end up buying all five. If your budget only allows you to pick up one or two of these, then I’d strongly suggest New York and Rennes, France (in that order) as the best starting places. Between Tokyo and Berlin/Amsterdam, the latter is the better recording (not that Tokyo is far behind). Live Rarities may be the favorite of I-heard-them-before-you completists, but they were going to buy all five sets anyway. And if you’re a fan of highly inventive indie music, you could do much worse than to do the same.
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Reviewed by Mark Pittman
First of all, if you’re even a casual fan of any of the following artists—ELO, Jellyfish, Paul McCartney (solo), the Raspberries, Dwight Twilley—stop everything you’re doing (paying those bills, icing that cake, proposing to that girl) and buy this album RIGHT NOW!
The rest of you will take more convincing.
I can’t say I was convinced the first time I saw this CD. The name of the band is Sparkwood. What does that suggest to you? To me, it suggests next to nothing. A drug reference? Who knows.
The name of the album is Jalopy Pop!!! Now I’m expecting naïve, weak pop—probably poorly sung. The three exclamation marks indicate that the band mindlessly celebrates this amateurish brand of pop. Even more worrisome.
The album cover looks like it was painted by a band member or maybe one of their nephews. It consists of a wild and crazy Volkswagen Beetle exposing a trunk full of 70s recording gear. Combined with the computer generated lettering beneath the image, this, too, does not bode well. All in all, an album cover only NRBQ could love.
By now, I’m not expecting a lot. But I take a deep breath and put in the CD.
After a short skit of two computer generated voices double-checking the requirements list for the album, the first song begins: “Miles Away.” I’m calmly noting the most obvious influences, ELO and Jellyfish; but these obvious influences hardly matter. I’m so completely taken aback by the sound, the singing, the occasional unexpected chord and melody. I’m quickly coming to realize there’s nothing weak or amateurish about this album.
It’s like these three guys got together and said “okay, we are going to write the ultimate Power Pop album.” The lyrics have to be dumb and mainly about “holding my baby all through the night.” Everything has to be happy, and bring a smile to your face--even the “sad” songs about how “my baby didn’t call me back.” The arrangements have to be rainbow-colored and awe-inspiring. We want other musicians to hate us because everything’s so perfectly arranged, produced, played, and sung. We want to be ELO, but less cheesy; we want to be Jellyfish but less derivative; we want to be Paul McCartney but less wimpy.
And as far as I can tell, they’ve done just that. I’ve listened to this album all the way through at least six times, and I first heard it yesterday. One reason I’ve listened to it so much is because I’m having trouble finding highlights. If you accept even one of the songs I bet you’ll like the whole album. Even the more derivative songs like McCartney-esque “D” and the ultra-cheesy anthem “In Your Lovin’ Arms” (that title!) have surprising twists in the middle or at the end of the songs that makes you forget you ever doubted them.
But if forced to pick standout tracks, I would select “Miles Away” for its unpretentious melody, beat, and arrangement; “Ready for the Day” with, count ‘em, two great choruses for every verse; and, finally, “Cruel World.” “Cruel World” would definitely be my pick for a single. The verse melody sounds--just a little--like one of those ballads you might hear a band like Third Eye Blind singing on an “alternative” station. Only “World” is many, many times better: better written, better sung. Every time I get to the end of the song I involuntarily think “that song was perfect.” There’s also no way I can convey how the word “life” in the chorus (“Sometimes I wish that life as we know it would end”) gives me the chills every time I hear it. Sorry, guess you’re just going to have to buy this disc.
The last track “3 Words” (yes, those three words…) has a running time of 14.26!! I’ll try not to ruin it for you, but Sparkwood briefly gets to slither out of the Power Pop straightjacket they’ve voluntarily donned. At one point brief sound snippets bombard our unsuspecting ears for several minutes. I’m not sure exactly what I’m hearing, but my favorite snippets resemble 1) the Zombies covering Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music and 2) a looped music box melody floating over ham radio voices (now why didn’t I think of that?).
The album ends with the same space noises with which it started, meaning you can loop this album to play continually. I highly recommend that strategy.
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Reviewed by Ted Spas
First of all, this much-vaunted "Wedding Present reunion" isn't much of a reunion at all. It's not like this is the sainted original lineup, vanished oh so many years ago. Hell, it's not even the second lineup, formed after the Weddoes lost Peter Solowka to The Ukranians. It's been some thirteen years since The Wedding Present turned into the David Gedge and Whoever Else is in the Room Review and I quit getting excited about their new records. So it comes as no real surprise that Take Fountain, the first Wedding Present album in eight years, is not a work of unparalleled genius. It's not a scorching rocker like Bizarro and it's not a dense masterwork like Seamonsters. The second longest-serving Weddoe here (besides Mr. Gedge) is one Simon Cleave, a bloke who played on less than one third of 1996's disappointing Saturnalia. So it's barely even The Wedding Present at all, really. And it's lovely. Just lovely.
Regardless of who's playing, The Wedding Present sound is fully accounted for. David Gedge's plummy baritone is still yelping out desperate tales of failed relationships, the guitars still alternate between hurried jangle and lush drone, and beautifully half-formed pop melodies are still the order of the day. Take Fountain is weighted a bit towards the slower end of the spectrum, but these folks are all getting on in years, so after the jaunty sprint of "Ringway to SeaTac" it's no wonder they need to catch their breath on the rather more stately "Don't Touch That Dial." The end result is a warm, dense album that moves along at a measured pace, a bit melancholy and a bit wry.
The only real problem is that long, long ago, The Wedding Present was a truly great band. They wrote songs so soaring, so magnificent, that they managed to transcend the limitations of modern pop. It was disappointing when the magic faded back in the 90s, and it's disappointing to see that it's still gone. Take Fountain is a good album, maybe even a very good album, but coming from a band that was once among the very best, it's a bit of a letdown.
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