Ali Shaheed Muhammad - Shaheedullah And Stereotypes Penalty/Rykodisc
De La Soul - The Grind Date Sanctuary Urban
Reviewed by Russell Bartholomee
There was a time (in the late 80s and early 90s) when De La Soul and A Tribe Called Quest were on the absolute cutting edge of hip hop. Both groups’ first three records are essential listening to anyone who wants to understand the best that the genre has to offer. De La Soul’s 3 Feet High and Rising is regularly referenced as the Sgt. Peppers of rap, and rightly so, as it absolutely redefined what a rap record cold be. Musically eclectic, lyrically intelligent, outrageously funny, and able to find the funk in Steely Dan, the Turtles, and Schoolhouse Rock, De La made you think and dance at the same time. What Tribe’s The Low End Theory offered was no less influential, with Phife and Q-Tip’s smooth flow and amazing rhymes being dropped over jazz-tinged beats (courtesy of Mr. Muhammad). Both groups were part of the New York-based Native Tongues posse, and for a while it looked like they would remake hip hop in their image, releasing one stellar record after the next. Of course, that didn’t happen; Dr. Dre’s The Chronic became the blueprint for the next ten years of rap, and both groups have been releasing records that, while good, have never quite lived up to their crowning achievements.
Now here come De La Soul and Ali Shaheed Muhammad (Tribe’s DJ) with brand new releases in the same month, over 15 years after achieving the hip hop equivalent of Citizen Kane. I’d love to tell you that either or both of De La’s The Grind Date or Muhammad’s Shaheedullah and Stereotypes are as essential as their previous glories. They aren’t. Both discs, like Orson Welles’ post-Kane films, suffer from comparison to previous masterpieces. That’s the bad news. The good news is that, judged purely on their own merits, both records are good (and in some spots great)—far better than anyone should reasonably expect for a genre whose artists tend to have a short shelf life.
Muhammad’s Shaheedullah is the weaker of the two, though nothing for the first-time solo artist to be ashamed of. Its best feature is the music, which is expertly crafted and soulfully performed. Muhammad’s turntable work is staggeringly dexterous, especially on the excellent “Tight,” where the intricately rhythmic mixing and scratching is positively hypnotic. Most of the music comes from live instruments, however, and the tracks are refreshingly atypical for a hip hop record. In the main, the music tends towards delicate 70s Soul and Funk grooves, with touches of Jazz and R&B (more Jamiroquai than P-Funk). It is vocally that the album disappoints to some degree. While there are outstanding contributions from a few guest rappers and singers, Ali’s own rapping is merely adequate. It’s clear why Phife and Q-Tip were the main mouthpieces for A Tribe Called Quest. I know his name is on the record, but it would have been a better decision to let someone with a better flow handle the mic. And some of the lyrics are fairly lackluster. The worst moment comes in “All Right (Aight),” when Shaheed warns “The Internet is cool / But don’t be fooled / Use it as a tool / Get control of you.” I’m not making that up. The last half of the disc drags a bit; a few of 17 tracks begin to run together sonically. But especially in the first half, it’s clear that Ali Shaheed Muhammad still has great instincts and is not done making worthwhile music.
In the case of The Grind Date, this is De La’s best effort since 1993’s Buhloone Mind State (probably my favorite hip hop record of all time). It easily eclipses both of the Art Official Intelligence records and squashes Stakes is High like a grape. Less ambitious than their first three classics Dave, Posdnous, and Mase sound like they’ve found a comfortable middle ground between pushing the creative envelope and trying to keep up with popular tastes. While I personally wish they were still doing the former, this is much to be preferred over the forced and awkward quality of their recent releases. None of the tunes are as groundbreaking as “Ego Trippin’” or “Potholes in My Lawn,” but every filler-free track is more than solid. The beats are tight, combining elements of soul, gospel, and funk so deftly that your head is bound to bob approvingly. And the Soul still knows how to plumb unconventional sources (like Yes, Rick Wakeman, Shuggie Otis, and Mountain) for samples that shouldn’t work (but do) on a hip hop record. They’re not afraid to experiment, which has always been what separated them from most of the hip hop community. On “Rock Co.Kane Flow,” the album's closer, the tempo speeds up at the end of every verse, accompanied by staccato drum beats and organ hits, every beat punctuated by another poetic syllable, before returning to regular speed. Vocally, the members of De La Soul sound as good as they have in a decade. Dave and Pos’ still-impressive skills are nicely augmented on a few tracks by guest appearances by Common, Ghostface, and Public Enemy’s Flava Flav (among others).
Lyrically, the record is strong, with only a few caveats. On “Verbal Clap,” Dave puts Puffy in his place: “We run mics, let Sean run the marathon / Yo raise that money son, we raisin these kids.” They manage to call for personal responsibility and education without sounding preachy, partly by never losing their sense of humor. After “The Future”’s idealistic final chorus about making the world “safe and happy for the children,” Dave deadpans “You little brats.” It is gratifying to see artists of their caliber with this much staying power. Unfortunately, De La Soul thinks this is remarkable as well, and reminds the listener of this repeatedly. A recurring theme is how much they have innovated and how they have achieved more success than bigger-selling acts by virtue of the fact of their longevity. I don’t disagree; I just don’t want to hear it in so many songs. And while they’ve earned bragging rights, it seems unnecessarily cruel to follow a shout out to the Jungle Brothers, Latifah, and Quest by rubbing their fellow Native Tongues’ noses in the fact that De La is still making records and they’re not (“The Future.”).
The Grind Date and Shaheedullah and Stereotypes are good records, especially if you don’t think about the fact that these artists used to make great records. Maybe it’s unfair to expect De La Soul or members of A Tribe Called Quest to keep breaking new ground. (Even if it was no Citizen Kane, A Touch of Evil was still a great film.) But I can’t help hoping with each new release to be sent into the stratosphere. What’s being offered is still 3 feet higher than most of what’s out there, it’s just no longer rising.
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Camera Obscura - Biggest Bluest Hi-Fi Merge
Reviewed by Adam M. Anklewicz
Biggest Bluest Hi-Fi is the debut release by Camera Obscura. It is being released for the first time in North America with bonus tracks featured from their single, “Eighties Fan.”
Fans who found the band with their second album, Underachievers Please Try Harder, will be disappointed with this record. There are a few standout tracks, such as “Eighties Fan” and “Swimming Pool,” which will help the disc find its way into your CD player, but I’d suggest keeping Underachievers more easily accessible.
Always compared with Belle & Sebastian, Camera Obscura often come-off as nothing more than a cheap rip-off of the band. Camera Obscura create the same style of Scottish pop that made Belle & Sebastian a success without as much musical skill or lyrical talent. They are able to craft fun and simple ditties, however a good half of the album is forgettable and just fills space. When they do get it, it’s great. The best songs on the album rival any pop being made in North America and keep the album afloat.
“Eighties Fan” is a song that might have come directly from the 1960s. Sounding like pre-Beatles American music, “Eighties Fan” could have been a hit then but is a bit too sweet for today’s pop audience. The entire album sounds too sweet, which is ultimately what makes it fail. Belle & Sebastian are able to have sweet tunes hiding sinister lyrics. Camera Obscura, on the other hand, is bubblegum overload.
“Houseboat” is perhaps the best song on the album—very simple, short and fun. The song doesn’t try to be too much; it’s straightforward.
The CD is an enhanced disc, and if it is placed in a computer, you can watch the video for “Eighties Fan,” a funky video which is worth a viewing.
Oozing pop, the album can be a bit hard to take in one dose. Some good songs drown in mediocrity. I think I’ll go listen to Underachievers Please Try Harder instead.
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Elliott Smith - From A Basement On A Hill Anti-
Reviewed by Brighid Mooney
At the time of his unexpected death last October, Elliott Smith had been busy working on what he had initially planned to be a double album. Though he never got to finish it, his family culled together the nearly-completed pieces to release the fifteen-track album From a Basement On the Hill, Smith's sixth and final studio release. The result is an album that, though not without flaw, is an appropriate and haunting goodbye from the songwriter to his small but loyal legion of fans. Given the circumstances surrounding his death, it is almost impossible to listen to From a Basement On the Hill without projecting a sad prescience onto those lyrics which express despair, disappointment and regret. What makes it more difficult is that, like most of Smith's previous work, these are the themes most prevalent in his beautiful, melancholy songs.
It is easy to look at From a Basement On the Hill as a knowing goodbye to his friends and fans, especially with songs as layed-out as "A Fond Farewell." Depression, addiction, disappointment, loneliness and despair abound in these songs, and the subject of death is often broached. In the opening track, "Coast To Coast," a song that rocks harder than usual for Smith, he boldly proclaims "I've got no new act to amuse you." It's true that this album is quintessential Elliott Smith: painfully sad ballads, Beatlesque melodies and Smith's wispy, angelic voice. It's not new territory that Smith is exploring, but it still comes off fresh and completely sincere, and his oblique take on the trials of life are never tiresome. But there is still something disturbing about his confession, his realization of the pleasure that his listeners derive from his pain. But Elliott Smith, like other artists of his caliber and style, somehow manage to make our pain his, so that we see ourselves in him. And so his songs of despair and self-loathing aren't so much morbid voyeurism as they are empathetic expressions of things that we all feel to some degree. Though it seems in Smith, these things were more overpowering than anyone realized.
The Beatles' influence on Smith is as strong on this album as ever, and songs like "Memory Lane" and "Let's Get Lost" find him at times channeling both John Lennon and George Harrison, giving many of the songs a warm, upbeat feel. One of the most distinct things about Elliott Smith was his voice, which he himself never really liked. Soft and usually not much more than a whisper, it so easily conveyed a huge amount of pain and sadness with a great deal of sympathy, through lyrics both raw and poetic. His voice is so angelic that you sometimes don't realize he's singing about "vomiting in the kitchen sink" or how he's "strung out again." Like many of his previous albums, From a Basement On The Hill finds him struggling with addiction and depression. "Isolation pushes past self-hatred, guilt and shame, to a place where suffering is just a game," he sings in "Memory Lane." The standout track on the album is "A Fond Farewell," which is pop depression at its best. But the entire album is full of great songs, including the lush "King's Crossing" and the sparse and sweetly sad "Twilight," an ode to a love that is tacitly acknowledged but will never be fully explored. The same might be said of this album, as we listen to it knowing that it is the last we will hear from Elliott Smith, but also wondering how much different, and possibly how much better, it might have been had he been around to see it to completion.
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Frank Black Francis - Frank Black Francis Sonic Unyon
Reviewed by Russell Bartholomee
Before I get to the merits and demerits of Frank Black Francis, let’s establish some guidelines about what to call the artist behind the release. His real name is Chris Thompson, he recorded with the Pixies as Black Francis, and he goes by Frank Black these days (Frank Black Francis, get it?). Since this release includes material recorded under two different names, it would probably be most accurate to call him Chris Thompson. But none of us think of him that way, so for the purposes of this review, I’m going to call him Frank Black. Just FYI.
Frank Black Francis is two discs of insight into the songwriting and creative process. Disc One contains fifteen tracks, each one a raw demo of early Pixies material, recorded on a Walkman cassette recorder one day before studio work on Come On Pilgrim began in 1986. Never originally intended to be released to the general pubic, these songs were supposed to be sketches the album’s producer would use as a framework for the upcoming sessions. On its own, this would be difficult to justify as a stand-alone release (except for die-hard completist fans). So to give you more bang for your buck, Frank includes Disc Two, in which he offers 13 classic Pixies tunes newly recorded in 2003 by Black, with a little help from Andy Diagram and Keith Moliné of David Thomas & Two Pale Boys. Both discs reveal different facets of Frank Black’s abilities as a songwriter and performer.
Listening to Disc One is a bit like going to a museum to see an exhibit of pages from one of Matisse’s sketchbooks. Rough, incomplete, skeletal versions of works of art you know very well. You know what’s missing, but you’re not complaining because you can see (or in this case hear) how the artist developed the idea into the finished product. These fifteen performances are very rough; there is an enormous amount of tape hiss, a number of missed notes, and a lot of chatter from Frank Black about bass lines and drum parts. Especially funny is when he announces mid-song that he’s planning to scream a certain vocal line—and then proceeds to sing it normally (not wanting to wreck his throat for the next day). But Black’s command of his own songs in their simplest forms is unmistakable. His acoustic guitar work is quite innovative. You can hear how he comps the drum and bass parts. And most of all, you can sense that he knows exactly what he wants the final track to sound like. And as much as they are improved by the rest of the band (let it never be doubted how much Kim Deal, Joey Santiago, and David Lovering brought to the table), the songs belong to Frank Black. It’s great to hear the early material (the stunning “Caribou,” and “Broken Face” especially), but my favorite track is “Subbacultcha,” which didn’t appear until the Pixies’ last album. That the (by my calculations) 22-year-old Black had penned such a solid collection of songs so young is amazing.
After hearing Disc One, I was sure that the full production treatment of Disc Two would blow the demo tracks away. I was wrong. The reworked songs of the second disc are good (some of them quite good). But many of them lack the fire that is so evident on the first disc. Part of that is due to the new arrangements, most of which tend toward spacey sound effects and much slower tempos. If I understand the liner notes (and I may not) Frank let the Two Pale Boys build background tracks for these new interpretations without much personal oversight (“[I] belted out the numbers and let the boys do their thing”). While their use of trumpet and electronic music works well for some cuts, I wish Frank had told them to lay off the delay pedal. The effect shows up on nearly every track on the disc. And in a couple of cases it is used to distraction, especially on the unnecessarily long remake of “Planet of Sound,” which repeats phrases from the chorus, one by one, 10 to 15 times apiece. Stop already. The most compelling use of the effect is on “Cactus,” which is one of the disc’s highlights.
The problem is not that these songs are “sacred” or should not be altered; it’s that some of them have had the life drained from them in the process. “Wave of Mutilation” is short but dull; there is none of the angst of the original vocals. The frantic “then God is seven” section of “Monkey Gone to Heaven” sounds here like a bored poetry reading. And “Velouria” was slow enough to begin with. On the other hand, “Where is My Mind?” and “Caribou” sound incredibly cool with white noise beats, muted trumpet, and echo-drenched vocals. Likewise, “Levitate Me” makes surprisingly good use of the toy piano. The standout track (again) though is “Subbacultcha.” The slow Arabic funk rhythm has elements of hand drums and (I think) mouth-generated beat box, on top of which the Pale Boys add violin and fuzzy bass hits. The effect is a lurching, twisted tango that should be the disc’s closer instead of “Planet of Sound.”
Neither disc is likely to get worn out in my CD player. But of the two, disc one’s demos are the most useful. Besides rabid fans of the Pixies, the insight into Frank Black’s writing and recording process would be invaluable to a songwriter. Disc Two is also revealing. The best tracks show that a great song is open to a number of successful interpretations. And any of them would be welcome as one remake on an album of new material or a b-side. But the worst of them sound like Frank Black phoning in some of his best songs. Frank Black Francis is sure to appeal to fans of the Pixies and Frank Black. But it would be a very bad starting point for someone who just discovered Frank’s enormous talent.
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Jon Brion - I 
Huckabees Sountrack Warner
Reviewed by Adam D. Miller
The soundtrack to David O. Russell’s I "Heart" Huckabees consists entirely of music and songs by Jon Brion, the immensely talented L.A. producer (Aimee Mann, Fiona Apple, Eels) and session musician (Elliott Smith, Badly Drawn Boy), who also brought us such film scores as Magnolia and Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind.
The liner notes offer some insight from director David O. Russell, who proclaims that “Jon Brion is superman – on the planet of music for sure.” There is a clear mutual admiration between director and composer (Russell also writes of Brion’s enthusiastic response the film itself).
What was previously apparent in Jon Brion’s earlier film scoring and production work is found here: Brion is a pop tunesmith, so his scores display his pop influences rather clearly while operating effectively as film music. His signature sound is highlighted by echoes of Beatles and Bacharach, while recalling the same sonic features he provided for Aimee Mann on Magnolia.
He’s also super-ambitious. Rather than simply writing the sheet music and conducting the orchestra, Brion is also heavily involved here as an instrumentalist, and aside from the string and horn ensembles, he plays all of the instruments on the score.
Perhaps the greatest thing about this soundtrack, however, is the fact that it offers a rare opportunity for us to hear Jon Brion’s singing. Brion has just one album, 2001’s Meaningless, but it is a pretty hard to find item (although well worth seeking out). Aside from the 15 tracks that make up the score of the film, the five new vocal songs on I "Heart" Huckabees are proof that Brion is more than capable of standing up as a contemporary of the likes of Aimee Mann and Michael Penn, with a style that is very similar, though containing more virtuosic elements. For now, however, Brion seems content to be the house musician at the Los Angeles restaurant Largo every Friday night. I for one, hope he’ll record another full-length LP sooner or later.
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Le Tigre - This Island Universal
Reviewed by Brighid Mooney
Le Tigre's newest album, This Island, finds the band on a major label for the first time. But the group, made up of former Bikini Kill founder Kathleen Hanna, along with Johanna Fateman and J.D. Samson, describe their sound as “feminist punk electronic,” and manage not to lose any of their indie street credibility by making that transition most dreaded by indie rock kids everywhere. This Island may be more polished, with the kind of sophistication that only major-label money can buy, but the album is still catchy, bold and smart, with rambunctious pop hooks accentuating punk sensibilities.
With legendary Cars frontman Ric Ocasek behind the mixing board, This Island has a bouncy 80s vibe, and even includes a spirited cover of the classic 80s song "I'm So Excited." But as polished as parts of the album can seem, Le Tigre still puts forth a raw, punk sound, and lyrics brimming with political animosity. Le Tigre has always been known as much for their politics as for their music, and This Island is no different, with plenty of angry anti-Bush sentiment and progressive feminist notions. The shortest song on the album, "Seconds," is also the most blatantly punk purist, as the girls plough through a list of grievances in a mere minute and half. Bellowing out their president's shortcomings, that overwhelming hostility is culminated in a sparse, unambiguous chorus: "you make me sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick!"
In contrast, the more playful "Nanny Nanny Boo Boo" plays at a slower groove, and shows off Le Tigre's more sarcastic attitude, with lines like "It's just a joke, man, it's just an interview." This is followed by the rousingly simplistic "TKO," a punk power punch with an overwhelmingly catchy pop riff. The album's first single is a song called "New Kicks," which is actually not as much a song as it is a historical time capsule set to music. Taking sound bytes from last year's peace marches, it sets chants and crowd rumbling to a ferocious beat. The resulting track captures an invigorating energy that suddenly puts you right there, surrounded by thousands of people chanting, singing and clapping, "This is what democracy looks like; this is what democracy sounds like." Rounding off the album is the song "Punker Plus," which is like a backstage pass, a tour diary set to music, chronicling Le Tigre's adventures across America and back.
Hardcore Le Tigre fans shouldn't worry too much about the band's adoption by Universal. This Island is still Le Tigre: fun, catchy and rebellious. If the album is a little more slick or sophisticated than their previous releases, it's not to the band's detriment at all, and This Island is a solidly enjoyable effort by one of the most adventurous bands to come out of the entire "feminist punk electronic" movement. So turn up the volume enjoy it the way it was meant to be.
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Leonard Cohen - Dear Heather Columbia
Reviewed by Adam D. Miller
Leonard Cohen is a legend. There is absolutely no question about it. Since his 1968 debut, The Songs Of Leonard Cohen, he has been the perfect example of a poet who has found his voice in music. At 70, he can look back on a career that has delivered consistently great songs: "Bird On A Wire", "Famous Blue Raincoat", "Hallelujah", "First We Take Manhattan", "Tower Of Song”… the list goes on and on.
The early buzz regarding Dear Heather was very positive. As a result, I had very high expectations of Cohen’s 11th studio album, his first since 2001’s Ten New Songs. My pallet was only further whetted when I read that the album opened with a musical adaptation of Lord Byron’s “Go No More A-Roving.”
Unfortunately, I must disagree with my colleagues who quickly hail Dear Heather as a masterpiece. To me, it serves as a major disappointment in a career that has only delivered one or two flops.
In the 1980s, the production style on Leonard Cohen's records was forgivable; especially considering it was the 1980s. After all, he was only trying to stay up to date, his songs remaining just as strong as his earlier material. In 2004, however, 1980s production values are obsolete, and the female backing vocalists, often prominent on his records in the past, have been brought more to the forefront. Formerly just a backing vocalist, Sharon Robinson is overbearing, not only stealing the vocal spotlight at times, but also co-writing, producing, and arranging many of the album’s tracks.
Of course, Leonard Cohen is still a poet, and the lyrics on Dear Heather are fantastic, vintage Leonard Cohen. “On That Day” is a beautiful elegy about 9/11. Cohen sings, “Some people say/It’s what we deserve/For sins against god/For crimes against the world/I wouldn’t know/I’m just holding the fort/Since that day/They wounded New York.” Unfortunately the music on much of the album is dull at best, and does little to serve Cohen’s brilliant lyrics. It says a lot that the best track on the album, a cover of "Tennessee Waltz" was recorded in 1985, when Cohen’s music was still inspired and vital.
As I have already suggested, many critics automatically hail Dear Heather as a masterpiece. I feel uncompelled to do so. The master of folk-poetry has consistently delivered quality recordings in a career that has lasted the past thirty-six years. Perhaps it is time for him to hang up the hat, or focus more on writing than recording. Or more optimistically, perhaps he’ll learn from his mistakes, and happily surprise us next time. After all, he’s done it before.
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Neko Case - The Tigers Have Spoken Mint Records (Canada)/Anti- (Worldwide)
Reviewed by Adam M. Anklewicz
Neko Case may be known to many as a country singer or as the powerful pop vocalist for the super-group The New Pornographers. In either mode, Neko is incredible. If you’ve never seen Neko Case live, what’s wrong with you? Perhaps the best country crooner of our time, she knows how to excite an audience and put on a show. Her shows have always been better than her albums, but this is not obvious on The Tigers Have Spoken.
Fans of Neko Case have been waiting for The Tigers Have Spoken for six months. Neko announced that her back-to-back shows at Toronto’s Lee’s Palace were being recorded for a live album, and fans rejoiced. Additional material was recorded at other Toronto venues and at Schuba’s in Chicago. Of the 11 tracks collected here, only four are originals. The album includes seven covers, including classics like the traditional “This Little Light” and Buffy Sainte-Marie’s “Soulful Shade of Blue.”
The good news is that Case’s collaboration with The Sadies, who served as her backing band on recent performances, on this record creates a consistently solid sound. Unfortunately, the album is slow moving and doesn’t pick up much speed until the seventh track “Loretta.” From then on the album seems to carry the listener much more easily from song to song. Even the slower songs during the second half are more exciting and stronger.
Neko Case is a strong songwriter and collaborates with some of the best musicians. Her original pieces on this album are not among her best, but she makes up for this by taking command of the covers and singing her heart out.
The Tigers Have Spoken is not for the casual fan. It is much more country driven than her previous albums, but stands out with its own identity. This record will help tide over existing fans in anticipation for something new.
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Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Abattoir Blues Anti-
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - The Lyre Of Orpheus Anti-
Reviewed by Adam M. Anklewicz
Nick Cave has a way with words. He is a poet disguised as a musician. He’s not the first, and he won’t be the last. Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen are two perfect examples of this breed and Nick Cave fits in well.
His follow up to Nocturama is a double album, but rather than a single album that flows over two CDs, he has released two separate albums in one set. Abattoir Blues and The Lyre Of Orpheus are two distinctly different albums.
The Lyre Of Orpheus starts off with the title track documenting the tale of Orpheus, Greek mythology’s greatest musician. Cave effectively brings the tale into modern time with his song. The music is very theatrical, enhances the story and allows lyrics such as “Eurydice appeared brindled in blood/And she said to Orpheus/If you play that fucking thing down here/I'll stick it up your orifice!” to stand out. “The Lyre Of Orpheus” on first listen is the worst track, but by the second listen you realize its immense power.
The following track, “Breathless,” is absolutely incredible, beginning with off-key flute and settling into a beautiful melody. A love song without cheesy cliché, “Breathless” is a song to start the day with. The Lyre Of Orpheus continues from this point with consistent quality, one great song after another. There are no bad songs. The worst it goes is the closing track, “O Children,” of which I only have one complaint: too long.
The album constantly has a comforting feel. Sounding familiar yet different; bringing thoughts of David Bowie, Lou Reed, Bob Dylan, Tom Waits and many more of music’s greats.
Abattoir Blues keeps the same lyrical charm and intelligence but without the same musical excitement. A slower but harder album, the highlights of Abattoir Blues include “Hiding All Away,” “There She Goes, My Beautiful World” and “Nature Boy”.
“Hiding All Away” is a slow song, taking us through a search for the storyteller through the journey of the woman searching for him. With humorous lyrics, it gives offers a good laugh.
“Nature Boy” sounds like an early Elton John track and Cave’s vocals stand out for once in a positive light. “Nature Boy” has a large sound and every instrument does its part to merge with the rest. It is very similar to the previous song, “There She Goes, My Beautiful World,” except with a stronger guitar.
Overall, two great albums. Nick Cave is relentless and doesn’t stop releasing masterpieces.
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Ray Charles – Ray Soundtrack Rhino
Reviewed by Adam D. Miller
Ray is the long-awaited biopic of Ray Charles, the legendary blind pianist who recently passed away, marking the end of a career that began in the late 1940s. The film focuses on the early years of Ray’s career, including his childhood, his attempt to earn musical credibility as a member of Lowell Fulson’s band, and later, his successes with Atlantic Records and Paramount/ABC. The film stars Jamie Foxx, who is surprisingly effective as Charles, looking and sounding eerily like early footage of the man himself.
Of course, when I say “sounding” I am simply referring to the spoken verse. Despite Jamie Foxx’s vocal and musical abilities, the actor was instructed to lip synch along with vintage Ray Charles recordings.
Culling some of Ray Charles’ best and most well-known live and studio recordings from the Atlantic and Paramount/ABC periods, the soundtrack to Ray is a great starting point for those wanting an accessible introduction to his music. At the same time, it serves as an effective companion to the film. Those who enjoyed the music in the film will be just as delighted with the soundtrack.
In addition to classic studio recordings such as “Mess Around”, “Georgia On My Mind”, and “Hit The Road Jack,” the soundtrack also presents a slew of live recordings that best convey the soul and energy of the genius that is Ray Charles.
I only have two concerns with the Ray soundtrack:
- Considering the fact that the film is set in the mid 1950s and early 1960s, I am confused as to why they would use live recordings of Charles’ from later concerts.
- It is unfortunate that only Ray Charles songs are included. They are certainly wonderful songs, but for a film about Ray Charles’ musical development it would have been educational to hear some of the songs that inspired him in his early years, such as Nat “King” Cole and Art Tatum, not to mention his country influences.
Of course, these are minor qualms. By sticking with Ray Charles songs, the album flows extremely well and operates effectively as a “Best Of” compilation. And while many of those exist, this seems to be one of the better ones for someone wanting an introduction Charles’ work without investing in a box set or multi-disc collection.
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Richard Buckner – Dents & Shells Merge
Reviewed by Shel Desormeaux
Dents and Shells is a jangling return to Richard Buckner’s alt-country roots, which took hold with 1994’s Bloomed, and an album that should be as warmly received as everything he has ever done.
While I was growing up, in the Ottawa Valley (yeah, email me for directions), I listened to all sorts of country, rockabilly, 80s new wave and a startling amount of CanCon (ed. That’s Canadian content, the music that is spoonfed to us via Canadian radio). Richard Buckner strongly reminds me of Bruce Cockburn and Chris Isaak - a strange, nostalgic hybrid of pedal steel guitars and breezy chords. His songs are honest and busy, yet small and not outwardly assuming. But they’re there, and they’re insistent.
His ever-strong lyrics are still full of heartbreak, morose and beautiful and pensive. “A Chance Counsel,” the album’s first track, is a beautiful, haphazard string of chords and throaty incantations: “Let’s hear the outline,” he sings, and then “listen at a number on the door.” “Invitation” is pleading and apologetic (‘Come on, I’d love to talk to you outside…you never know/And I don’t mean to chase you down’), his voice nevertheless pushing through the air, towards the listener. Not all of the album’s offerings are morose and broken; the ballad “Her” is soft and thoughtful, solid and acoustic laden with popping drumbeats and piano chords, a song from someone watching his beloved ‘sipping wine from a camping cup on some missing night’.
Dents and Shells is Buckner’s sixth album, but one could just as easily pick up here as anywhere else in his catalogue. His music is ongoing, flowing from one project into another, from earth to sky and back again. It shifts, it swells, it quiets. It, and Richard Buckner, are wonderful discoveries.
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Sarah Slean – Day One WEA International
Reviewed by kid spill
It used to seem that in a perfect world, pixie Sarah Slean would be the singer/songwriter du jour that would take hold of the masses, instead of the teenage pansies currently on the case. How awesome would it be if Slean’s pop panache inspired posters of her amongst the wood nymphs instead of Hilary Duff amongst the shopping bags? On Slean’s last release and big-time label debut Night Bugs, she seemed to have prodigiously mastered a fluent cabaret style, and offered up a performance style that intrigued both an indie-minded and adult contemporary audience.
With Night Bugs, Slean was oft-compared to Tori Amos, an obvious influence in terms of composition style, vocal torrents and elfin aesthetic. Although being compared to anyone established is both a boon and a burden, the association to Amos would be a serious improvement on the obvious similarities to any of the banal singer-songwriters that Slean seems to be emulating on the new album, Day One.
Cries of “sell out” and “too commercial” are all too common in evaluations of second and third albums, when an artist is expected to do the exact same thing, only different, and better. It’s a sad thing when we music fans expect to be blown away even more with subsequent releases. It seems beyond cliché to be assessing a work that you hope reaches the mainstream population as overproduced. But, when the level of production slickness compromises the style of a talented artist, it induces hesitant criticism. And so it goes! While Slean maintains control of the writing, piano, string arranging, programming, and Wurlitzer (!) she seems to have freely and mistakenly allowed the production to meander into the overwrought and overtly commercial. Her songs still contain startlingly mature and playful lyrics, and no amount of overproduction could fry Slean’s voice, but the raw and sometimes shaky honesty of Night Bugs is missing.
On Day One, Slean veers in a more emotionally focused direction, turning to her heart (pardon the literary anachronism) instead of the inner wrinkles of her imagination in the tradition of Amos. Her trademark creativity is present, but is literally lost in the mix.
“Pilgrim” is tinny and macabre, and as such comes off as entirely disingenuous, perhaps as an attempt to start off with some kind of impact. The first single off the album, “Lucky Me,” is a manic and uncomfortable use of Slean’s apparent penchant for childlike sounds and themes, which have ranged from ruminations on her own roots to banging happily away on the piano. This ethos worked to great, joyful effect on her previous efforts, but here it is forced and pandering.
“Mary,” “Vertigo” and “Wake Up” are simply boring. It seems as though Slean is yawning through them, instead of showcasing her vocal range.
On “California,” Slean captures the hot tunnels of open space and ambient absurdity that characterize the Californian experience in a way that few have. However, this coupled with the overarching greasy production values evokes unfortunate remembrances of Natalie Imbruglia’s track “Troubled By The Way We Came Together.”
“Out in the Park” is decent—Slean sounds like an urban troubadour, something the green spaces in her native Toronto could truly use. “When Another Midnight” contains an inordinate amount of warbling, which is really unnecessary when you consider the fact that Sarah Slean boasts both a sexy drawl and operatic capabilities.
Listening to Day One over and over was difficult. Not because it’s a horrible album, because its not. It’s just like when your awesome babysitter comes over, the one who usually dresses up like a pirate and has you swinging from the chandelier by the end of the night, and slumps on the couch and cracks a can of Pepsi. You stand there waiting for the awesome to happen, and it doesn’t, and you are sad.
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Reviewed by Adam M. Anklewicz
Robert Schneider (of The Apples in Stereo) has an uncanny ability to recreate the sounds of 1960s pop. For the past decade, The Apples in Stereo have been rolling out disc after disc of brilliant pop tunes.
Ulysses are not The Apples in Stereo. Well, at least in some ways they aren’t. Sonically, not much separates the two bands. They have different members, and Ulysses uses more synthesizers, but Robert Schneider is the primary songwriter in both bands, and Apples songs could be interchanged with Ulysses songs without sounding out of place.
The primary difference between the two bands is that The Apples In Stereo are more polished. The instruments on 010 were recorded around a single microphone in a garage. Vocals and synthesizer were then added as overdubs. The album proudly proclaims on the record sleeve “monophonic.”
Highlights on the album include “Burning You,” “Glacier,” and “The Falcon.” “The Falcon” has a similar melody to The Apples in Stereo song “Ruby” from Her Wallpaper Reverie, while still being different enough to keep the listener interested. One of the later tracks on the album, “Castles In Spain,” sounds like a weaker and slower version of “Glacier,” losing the excitement of the pounding guitar that fills the speakers as it strengthens the vocals.
The artwork takes you back to the days of the Commodore 64 computer, using the same font as the C64’s display. A greyscale image graces the cover with computer-generated mountains. The curves, however, are too smooth to have come from a computer of that age. The album credits are cleverly curved to look like an old computer display.
Clocking in at less than half an hour, the album is a quick listen. That’s not a bad thing. Short and simple pop songs are a staple of Robert Schneider’s style and suit him well. It also serves to give the album the feel of a 1960s-era recording.
010 is definitely worth listening to, though not a starting point for someone new to Schneider’s music. Any Apples in Stereo fan will enjoy this record. Its rough sound is more reminiscent of their compilation of early recordings, Science Fair, which has been lauded by many fans as their best work.
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