"Head West" - Comotion
"Does" - the Slip
"Late For The Future" - Galactic
"Stolen Roses" - various artists
"Dick's Picks XVIII" - the Grateful Dead
"Alone At Last: Live With DJ Who, 12.9.99" - Lake Trout -
"Rhodes Ahead, volume I" - Marc Cray
"What Would Give In Exchange For Your Soul" - the Monroe Brothers
"The Fish Are Praying For Rain" - Theodore Spassov Trio
"Big Foot" - Jim Weider and the Honky Tonk Gurus
"Across The Water" - Bernard Allison
"Critical Lift" - Spywagon
"Live At The Gibson Cafe" - Jamie Hartford Band
"Time Stops" - Idletime
"Lion In A Bucket" - Zeut
"Concepts of..." - Matamatoot

Approximately ten years ago some of the world's greatest string musicians gathered to play music stretching the boundaries of their respective instruments. Based on group improvisation rather than large obtrusive solos, Strength In Numbers' "Telluride Sessions" redefined the expected coalescing of mandolin, fiddle, guitar, banjo and upright bass. From Middle Eastern sounds to reggae, "Telluride Sessions" went beyond the legendary newgrass wall erected by Sam Bush and his compatriots, into something best described as chamber music.

Now, in the year 2000, a band called Comotion moves the bar a bit further. Mixing mandolin, fiddle, guitar, bass, saxophone and drums, Comotion's "Head West" consistently ventures into the island sounds of our wondrous planet. Where Strength In Numbers exhibited virtuosity, Comotion reveals a deep, pulsating oceanic groove; relaxation music of the highest degree.

Of course, who would expect a bad production given the musical pedigree on "Head West"? Featuring Michael Kang, Mike Marshall, Paul McCandless, Tye North, Jeff Sipe, Darol Anger and Aaron Johnston, "Head West" moves smoothly through each musicians influences, loves and musical expectations.

Such a comment becomes clear with the opening strains of Into Da Night. An obvious reggae composition, complete with timbales, the song slinks along until Michael Kang takes a wonderfully subtle solo. As the song progress and builds, moving slowly from reggae into a smooth jazz bridge, Comotion sounds reminiscent of the Dave Matthews Band. One reason for the DMB comparison rests in McCandless soprano sax sound combined with various acoustic instruments. As McCandless builds lines on top of lines, Anger adding his own esoteric scratches to and fro, the music dies slowly, revealing a smooth acoustic slide guitar solo by Mike Marshall; exactly the sound necessary for the song.

After Into Da Night, the equally frisky samba Crawl We Must sounds intoxicating. Velour and peaceful, this becomes the perfect music for sitting on the beach, refreshing, rolling ocean just inches from your feet. Besides the tropical palpate of Crawl We Must, some String Cheese Incident fans may argue the track contains Michael Kang's most impassioned jazz solo ever.

Despite the brilliant opening compositions, "Head West" too quickly ventures into smooth jazz mush. For some reason, when bluegrass/folk artists tackle jazz, like Bela Fleck, the results lead into those sounds which reside at the end of radio dials; stations perfect for the elevator and department store, but not necessarily your living room. Pieces like Marshall McKanger, The News and Thank You, while yielding some stellar moments, sound too slick and flat, often lacking the necessary jazz swing, or the lively poly-ethnic rhythms abundantly used at the albums inception.

Given the heavy weight placed on one musical idiom, "Head West" still divulges numerous world rhythms worthy of critical exegesis. Whether the Hawaiian, samba piece Oh Lei, the bluegrass of Dominical or the heavy metal opening of I Coulda Told You, "Head West" remains enjoyable and never strains the listeners ears; thus making "Head West" an exceptional party album for your summer barbecue.

One of the best jambands in the country today, The Slip are back with their first studio album in over three years. In the time which has followed the excellent, though perhaps a bit embryonic, "From the Gecko" they've grown more than most bands do in their careers, finding a voice, as individuals and a group, that would suggest them to be at least a decade older than they are.

Back in June I caught their record release party at Knitting Factory, and it was one of the best shows I've seen in recent memory. Their music grows more abstract as it gets older; intelligent compositions, impressively performed, melt away unexpectedly into free jams, that, as naturally as breathing, come back to the head and wander away again. Particularly interesting was the band's wholly honest incorporation of African and Indian elements into their music, as drummer Andrew Barr unleashed authentic, and confidently performed, African polyrhythms at every chance and the jams seemed to be influenced as much by North Indian ragas as Coltrane, Miles, or the Dead. I wanted desperately to buy "Does" there and then, but I was low on cash, so I had to wait another month to get a promo copy to review. ;)

I had heard, upon the album's completion last fall, that "Does" was primed to be one of the best studio albums yet by a jamband, a masterpiece on a modest budget, which I found easy to believe given that "Gecko", recorded when the band was a shadow of what they are today, is already in my opinion one of the best studio albums yet by a jamband. Perhaps then my slight disappointment with "Does" is a reflection of unreasonable expectations, as it is well-played, well-produced and consistently entertaining. However, the band's effort to make a studio document of the last few years' compositions seems to have led them to put fetters on themselves, limiting the intensity and length of most of the tunes just as those same qualities have ballooned in the live shows. This is not to say that studio albums are the place for wild 30-minute jams, but most of the tracks on "Does" feel anemic and restrained, and are therefore a poor representation of a band whose live music is anything but.

The album's high points, though, are quite admirable. Johnny's Tune, an Average White Band-esque butt-kicking funk number, lacks the deep danceable bottom end of good live versions, but features inspired soloing by all three band members, and would serve as a great introduction for someone who's never heard The Slip before. A pastiche of diverse styles and odd meters, Tohu Bohu also showcases Andrew, Marc and Brad's virtuosity well.

The album's high point is probably the tape-splice-segued pair of Paint Cans and The Invocators. The first is a traditional Ghanian percussion piece performed by the trio on - you guessed it - paint cans, and nicely establishes the Slip's approach to African music as being everything Paul Simon's was not - reverent, natural-sounding and more than superficially musical. The latter is a deceptively catchy vocal number built around an oddly-accented seven-bar phrase, and, in addition to being one of the album's most lively tracks, proves that Brad Barr, the guitarist in a mostly instrumental band, is one of the best singers in the jamband scene today.

Unfortunately, though, the album's other songs (meaning non-instrumentals) don't fare as well. The vocal songs on "From the Gecko" were mostly funky, soulful, and catchy as hell, but those captured on "Does" - or at least their performances - are too often bland, suspiciously hippie-sounding and compositionally weaker than their instrumental counterparts.

It must be noted that the album's MVP, as he so often is of the live shows, is bassist Marc Friedman, whose performance on the album, like those of his bandmates, only hints at the magnitude of his talent, but the kid is so fucking good it doesn't matter. At his best Friedman seems to be channeling Jaco Pastorius, and he takes beautifully melodic, impeccably well thought-out bass solos in almost every tune. His is truly one of the best young voices not only in the jamband scene, but in music today. Jazz lovers, bass lovers and almost everyone else owe it to themselves to hear this kid, and his bandmates, as soon as possible.

The Slip are embarking on their fall tour soon, and I urge anyone who loves improvised music to check them out if they come to your town. For those who can't, and for those who already love the Slip I recommend "Does" not as a representation of a band at their best, but as a recording of a band whose music, even when not performed as well as it might be, is funky, witty, and relentlessly creative.

"Late For The Future" is the aptly-named third release from New Orleans groove band Galactic. On this album the band shows impressive growth and development from their previous two, so much so that several tracks are almost experimental in nature. Drummer Stanton Moore throws in drum loops and mixes them with his own playing on several tracks. Theryl "Houseman" de'Clouet's vocals are tinged with a tiny bit of distortion as well. The result is a very modern jazz and soul album. All the players have grown up little by little since "Coolin' Off" and "Crazyhorse Mongoose," most notably Rich Vogel on keyboards and Jeff Raines on guitar. Ben Ellman even takes a hand at songwriting on this album, letting deClouet bring his lyrics to life on Vilified. This album is probably more representative of their live playing than their previous two as well. The tracks segue together at times, much like they do in concert.

The album starts off with Black Eyed Pea, as Jeff Raines kicks out a little guitar riff muffled in the background before the whole band joins into the full-blown instrumental. It's a good number to open with, with each band member getting a moment to shine. It's upbeat as most of the instrumentals are, with a lilting rhythm to keep it moving. Baker's Dozen follows suit with Mercurio laying down some funky bass lines and Moore rolling the snare. Roger Lewis from the Dirty Dozen Brass Band joins them on this one, providing a baritone saxophone base to Ellman's sharp rising sax solo. As the jam climaxes, they all manage to land at the same spot at the end. Both of the songs are indicative of the album's instrumentals as a whole: There's no wasted or crowded space on any of the songs. They are all superbly arranged.

Theryl de'Clouet has come a long way from his announcement "y'all give a big hand for Galactic," in reference to the instrumental band, on the first album. Here he makes his mark on five of the album's tracks. Thrill begins with Rich Vogel spiraling round and round his organ and the Houseman quickly takes over. His singing on "Late For The Future" is more like his singing live than his other studio songs are. The cadence of his vocals is a uneven and unpredictable, almost like be-bop. He's preachin' to the listener on songs like Running Man and Action Speaks Louder Than Words. "Livin' on the bubble is gonna land you in a lot of trouble." He seems like a very convincing preacher, though, so it seems to fit pretty well. Century City can only be described as the junction where New Orleans jazz and funk meet blues flowing down the river from Mississippi.

Jefe 2000 is the first of two short instrumentals with Stanton Moore employing the use of a drum loop. It only lasts a minute, but is filled with some loud guitar and slows down like a 45 record would as it comes into a segue with Doublewide. There is some prerecorded drum looping here too, and Stanton Moore uses this to increase the momentum he has between Vogel's rising and falling organ notes. Bobski 2000 is a similarly futuristic little track. It includes Ellman playing harmonica with some type of distortion on it. Even Two Clowns starts with the sound of an album being cut on the turntable before the band gets going. I wouldn't be too surprised to hear some of the music sampled by hip-hops DJs in the near future.

The album has even more distinguishing songs on it. On Hitt the Wall, Roger Lewis dusts off the soprano sax and duels back and forth with Ellman creating an Egyptian-sounding theme, while Stanton Moore glides around his drums kit and makes it sound far too easy. The final track on the album isn't even listed in the liner notes. It an acoustic, instrumental breakdown of Century City. A fitting song to end the album, it really points downward to the band's roots in Louisiana. Overall, "Late For The Future" is a very worthy album. It's a testament to how much time Galactic has spent on the road in the past few years honing their skills, but also to how much they have reinvented themselves at the same time. I would recommend this album to anyone who likes bands that know how to jam.

The fifth anniversary of Garcia's death and I'm somewhere in the Great Plains, flatness stretching out unbelievably in all directions. When Garcia died, I felt a loss, but I can't say that I felt particularly empty. His death meant - and means - something to me that I've had to come to grips with in my own imperceptible way. Listening to "Stolen Roses", a fine compilation of new and previously unreleased interpretations of Dead songs (recorded both before and after the end of the band) seems a fitting memorial. Much of the material has been twisted considerably from its original form, like a distant memory mutating with time and metamorphosing into something different.

The process of remembering is a highly personal one here, each song interpretation obviously taking on the genre of the performer but somehow melding to his character as well. The David Grisman Quintet's vague reading of Dark Star, for example, uses the song as a springboard into the quiet acoustic jazz space the ensemble has refined during their constantly evolving quarter century of existence. Like David Grisman, who is quick to separate himself from the Dead in the liner notes that accompany the album, the music moves abruptly away from the song's head into an almost indistinct jam that might've benefited from a greater willingness to explore the song's melody.

The material focuses mostly on Garcia/Hunter tunes from what is generally regarded by civilians as their "classic" period -- 1970-1974. For the most part, that assessment is correct. It also speaks volumes about the outside world's perception of the Dead: nearly straight-ahead country-rock odes to the American west, with absolutely none of the harmonically out songs contributed by rhythm guitarist Bobby Weir. Nine of the 16 songs featured are from this period, with another four coming from a two year cushion on either side. As a result, many of the tracks stand as updated interpretations of an outlaw American Dream, contorted to the performers' perceptions of just what, precisely, that means.

The Pontiac Brothers' bad-assedly tepid Brown-Eyed Women seems to pin the modern outlaw as a kind of hard-drinking truck-driving type while Joe Gallant and Illuminati's wildly inventive arrangement of Phil Lesh and Robert Peterson's Unbroken Chain casts the outlaw at the center of a more intellectual rebellion. In most cases, the artists bring something considerably new to the songs. In a few places - namely Brown-Eyed Women and Leftover Salmon's not-quite-subtle conversion of Fire On The Mountain into the faux-rasta dope-code Pasta On The Mountain - the music sounds hollow. Thankfully, these are exceptions and not the rules.

The most unlikely success on the album (which, for what it's worth, wasn't treated kindly by many of the people I exposed it to), and the easiest potential failure, is a recording of the tonally dense High Time by the cast of "Cumberland Blues", a musical by Michael Norman Mann based on Grateful Dead songs. Sounds like a truly tasteless idea, right? For the first few seconds - as Jenny Lord's note-perfect voices comes harping in - it sounds like all of your worst fears will be confirmed. Then, with a start, a warm steel guitar comes swelling in and you're left with a sparse arrangement which highlights the almost anti-septically good vocals while giving something for the ear to fall back on. Further, the tandem vocals provide the song with an interesting narrative twist.

With the exception of Dark Star, none of these songs really focus on improvisation, instead showcasing original arrangements or the simple elegance of the songs' melodies (the Persuasions' deeply soulful Black Muddy River, which is hopefully an indication of the depth they will bring to the material on their forth-coming album of GD material.) This provides a compelling reason to listen to the disc. Since the breakup of the Grateful Dead, their songbook has increasingly been viewed like a jazz fake book: almost perfunctory heads to be used as springboards to jamming. "Stolen Roses" presents the Dead's catalogue as more in line with Dylan's body of work: songs that are meant to be appreciated and interpreted for what they contain.

For Deadheads, even more so than 1989's "Deadicated", this will probably be equal parts revelation and frustration, depending on how sympathetic they are towards the artists performing. Henry Rollins' abrasive rendition of Franklin's Tower (which sounds like it should have Marc Ribot soloing over it) will probably challenge listeners most, stripping the song down to almost nothing and building it up with only a growled reading of the lyric, adding another level of mystery to an already obscure piece of word play. For the most, tracks by the more established artists on here - Bob Dylan, Patti Smith, Elvis Costello, Widespread Panic - sound almost exactly like one would expect them to: XXX performing YYY. Thankfully, this is one of those ideas that works just as well in practice as it does in theory.

Sex Mob's rendition of Ripple sums up the album at its best: a version of the song that bears little resemblance to the original yet stays true to the song's intentions. Beginning as a duet between slide pocket trumpeter Stephen Bernstein and bassist Tony Scherr, the song is transformed into a New Orleans-style funeral dirge. And, in the tradition of such a genre, the chorus - aided by a pair of cellos emulating David Grisman's famous mandolin ripples - points towards a future rebirth.

Here's some more Dead. Jesse and I had an amusing discussion recently about Grateful Dead live CDs. Currently, 1990 is the most heavily represented year, with 14 CDs. Runners up are 1974 and 1977, with eight apiece. 1970 and 1972 have seven, while 1973 falls just behind with six CDs and 1969 has five. Unrepresented are 1976, most of the 80's (with the exception of three each from '81 and '83, two from '80 and a few cuts from '89 on "Infrared Roses", "Without A Net" and "Phil Zone"), 1992 to 1995 (aside from the box set) and, until now, 1978.

This DP captures the Dead around the start of the phase where they struck a balance between exploration and taking care of rock and roll business. Jerry is fluent and has a harder tone than usual, Bob and Phil have their ears open and are at the peak of their mechanical abilities, and the drummers are in the pocket (though I prefer the double-time Bertha and half-time Scarlet Begonias). The weak link is Keith, who rarely breaks away from the perfunctory bashing that characterized much of his Dead work from 1977 on.

Here we get a mega-first set from Madison, WI and Cedar Falls, IA, with a somewhat odd dual climax of Deal and The Music Never Stopped (oddly, It's All Over Now and Dupree's Diamond News, two personal favorites, do not appear on setlists from these nights - perhaps they're from 2/4/78, in Milwaukee?), and the second-set jams from both shows. The intros to Estimated Prophet and Scarlet Begonias lose much of the sparkle that they had in May '77, but these are among the best-jammed versions. Also notable is the searing peak of The Other One, and the band's command of dynamics throughout. I once played an earlier DP from '72 on a road trip, and noticed how many of the songs could go from barely audible to overly loud in the van. The same is true here, especially in the Samson & Delilah jam, which gets extended out of proportion due to the failure of Bob's vocal mike.

If there's a complaint about this period (Keith and Donna aside), though, it's that the band forfeited a certain amount of surprise in its music by this point, which they only occasionally regained. The exception here is Playing In The Band, which is the sort of engrossing, harrowing journey more typical of '74 or '76. It helps that Jerry makes the unusual choice of dropping out for substantial portions of the jam. (This Madison set is notable as one of the last not to include a Drums > Space segment.) Perhaps there can be too much of a good thing?

Yes, or perhaps not. Here's some more Dead.

Lake Trout, like all quality live bands, are guaranteed not to sound the same if you see them twice within, say, a six month period. It's especially true with this band, who put out a self-titled album of mostly pop that was played on local radio way before they ever got into playing live improvised music. Jazz and techno slowly leaked into their sound over time, and by the time "Volume For The Rest Of It", their last album, came out, they were already distancing themselves from its [relatively] light sound. Now that they have arrived full-force on the scene, however, as one of the forerunners of the jam/techno movement along with such bands as The Disco Biscuits and Sector 9, they have refused to slow down.

Most of the composition that Lake Trout does is live. Someone hits a theme during a segue between songs, and it gets played around with, tapes get listened to, and a few weeks later, a newborn song is revealed. Many times, old setlists labeled with "Jam" actually contain the hidden parts of some fresh new song just waiting to come out. Because of phenomena like these, to really appreciate the work Lake Trout has done and is doing, it is important to take regular snapshots of the band, to see how their sound is evolving on a large scale. A perfect example is the "Jam" from the April 1, 1999 show that Lake Trout has on their website, which eventually evolved into Luvean, one of the tracks from this album's show. As further proof, track 5 from the album, which is unlabeled (and fans have been calling it #5, due to its place on the CD) has evolved as well, and become a regular addition to their setlists.

On to the actual content. The show starts with Su Nombre Es Peligro, not really a song, but a collection of sound clips and guitar/keyboard space drowning in a wash of effects, and is a common effect used by the band before launching into a jam. The jam that follows, #2 (bonus points to anyone who can guess where that name came from) is also reminiscent of a song in progress, and has the loopy, repetitive feel of most of Lake Trout's good jams. In their case, repetitive and loopy are definitely good adjectives to use.

The band runs through a pretty standard I'll Be, before launching one of their prize songs, Little Things In Different Places, which has just the right amount of blindingly fast drum and bass beats and relaxing saxophone and flute melodies to keep the listener sane. #5 settles back into an even more relaxed groove, and guitarists Woody Ranere and Ed Harris provide some interesting and spontaneous key changes to bring a little excitement back into it.

The rest of the album follows in the same vein, and any more further description of the same style reduces this to a show review instead of an album review (Although I'd like to sneak in a comment about how good Let Me Show You What I'm Used To... is). If you would like that snapshot of the band in December '99 to put into your time capsule along with 4/1/99 and 5/5/00, so future historians can understand Lake Trout's music, then you're going to need a copy of the show. It also works wonders if you're trying to re-create the Lake Trout live experience when they're not in your town, which - if the rush of people I saw at a recent Washington D.C. show to buy the album was any indication - many people are looking to do.

The esoteric inception of the Fender Rhodes piano caused the addition of numerous sonic textures in various genres of music. For many music lovers, the Fender Rhodes became prolifically used in the late 1960s, early 1970s in the music of Joe Zawinul, Herbie Hancock and Stevie Wonder. Certain compositions featuring the Fender Rhodes, such as Zawinul's Orange Lady often ventured into interplanetary Stockhausen idioms; sonic textures spawned from the cosmos.

Mixing the funk feel of Herbie Hancock and the spacey essence of Zawinul, Marc Crays "Rhodes Ahead Vol. 1" brings the Fender Rhodes into the twenty-first century's dance floor vibe. By adding hip-hop beats and throbbing bass lines, Cray on "Rhodes Ahead Vol. 1" creates stunning trance, ambient jazz, thus fully mining the otherworldly tones mined some thirty years prior. At the same time, Cray exposes an answer to the quandary often surrounding much turntable-based music.

The first track, Saturns Return reveals Cray's acrid talents for creating an intelligent piece of dance music. Most compositions found within the dance music craze border on monotony, driving the listener through the same terrain for eight to eighty minutes. By being a jazz musician, Cray avoids such pitfalls, imbuing Saturn's Return with lengthy improvisational passages. Despite the endless repetition of the bass and drum programming, the listener finds moments of mental exercise.

Such a comment may summarize "Rhodes Ahead Vol. 1" perfectly, revealing the various ways in which Cray continues the edification of music. Most of the rhythms, bass lines, and key changes have all been heard before; whether in DJ Cam's turntable explorations or on Herbie Hancock's "Headhunters." However, by avoiding groove and searching for improvisational spaces, Cray takes the best of these already expected sounds and creates a more avant garde piece of artwork.

Many fans of the New Deal will find conspicuous sonic similarities in Cray's explorations. By being an improvising musician creating dance music, Cray's vision becomes similar to the Canadian based trio. A track like Inside Yourself, yielding strained, muted vocals, a deep undulating bass line and a huge funk break, sounds like something created by a DJ, not a keyboardist. In many ways, the new path outlined by Cray on "Rhodes Ahead Vol. 1" adds veracity to the dying hip-hop genre. Turntablists will forever be confined to the small wax grooves of a record, yielding an incessantly stagnant musical search; sooner or later the options will be exasperated. On the other hand Cray can move smoothly from one rhythm to the next, giving the listener breaks, but can still retain the intellectual, jazz sensibility pervading most great improvisational music. Dance music may never go away, but Marc Cray armed with his Fender Rhodes may bring stronger musicality to the genre, and certainly more creativity.

Bill Monroe was the acknowledged father of bluegrass music. His legend runs deep, his blitzkrieg mandolin attacks deeper. His primary contribution to American music, his arrangements - what eventually became known as the "high, lonesome sound" - were characterized by a distinct blend of upper register stringed instruments and voices coupled with a sheer rhythmic thrust that was tied tightly with the melody. This new archival release, featuring Bill playing in tandem with his brother Charlie, dating to 1936 is not bluegrass, though it begins to map where exactly the genre evolved from.

The Monroe Brothers began their careers working at refineries in East Chicago, playing music in their spare time. Their musical talents - unique interpretations of old gospel numbers - led them from job to job, playing at medicine shows and on radio stations. While the songs may have begun life as somber hymns, they were quickly transformed - as if by an itinerant preacher - into lively barn-burners. The sessions, recorded for RCA/Victor were begun on February 17, 1936 and were the kind of turning point in American music - along with things like Elvis's first sessions with Sam Phillips at Sun Records in Memphis and Robert Johnson's handful of dates in Texas - that ambitious journalists and historians love to write rhapsodic mythic prose about.

Robert Johnson never recorded again. When Elvis did, it was a drastic change from his work at Sun, bearing only a superficial connection to it. By itself, the music on "What Would You Give In Exchange For Your Soul?" is mysterious. Over the next 50 years, though, the Monroe's made good on their promise of a revolution. Because of this, the music seems less like a puzzle and more like a starting point. It still has that deep quality to it that makes the listener wonder what the day might've been like for the Monroes -- what they did before going into work, what they did afterwards, what kind of world existed beyond the studio.

If one strains his ears in just the right way, perhaps he can hear Johnson in Texas (recording the same year) or Benny Goodman in New York... but mostly he'll just here the warm crackle of primitive recording technology. One of the characteristics of bluegrass is that the ear can fairly easily pick out each instrument in the mix, banjo separating easily from mandolin. The low-fidelity of these recordings, though, blend the vocals into a gray lump, the guitar and mandolin into one instrument. The quality of the recording also makes it sound like there's something not in the mix, something not revealed.

The music itself is mostly gospel, the tight harmonies showing off a close relationship between the voices. It is at its most interesting, though, when it borders on something beyond its roots. Bill's mandolin playing hints at what it would eventually turn into: blazing theme-and-variation on melodies delivered like an out of control coal car. The real interesting playing here, though, is Charlie's absolutely stunning guitar playing, which manages not only to provide a rhythmic grounding for Bill's lines but also to provide a stunning counterpoint to it.

On the faster numbers - My Long Journey Home and New River Train, for example - Charlie's past alternates between a fast-picked bassline and a more developed traditional lead part, sounding like two guitars at once -- not entirely unlike a modern day Charlie: Charlie Hunter. The Brothers' parts fit together impeccably, reading off of one another like, well, brothers. This is the same near-psychic relationship exhibited by Brad and Andrew Barr of the Slip and gives the music the quality of a secret language invented by siblings to keep the adults away.

A few precedents come to mind for this CD. The first is the band Oregon, who somehow made a natural, smooth world/jazz sound out of the combination of oboe, 12-string acoustic guitar, bass and tablas. Another is the Bulgarian "wedding bands" of Ivo Papasov and others, whose uptempo, abrupt rhythms recall the early, exciting days of jazz-rock.

This CD, from Bulgarian kaval player Theodosii Spassov's trio, presents a stranger blend than the artists above. A quote on the back cover describes the trio's sound as "like a jam session between Ian Anderson and Thelonious Monk." In fact, the kaval (a wooden flute) tends to sound even ruder than the wildest Jethro Tull solo, while the jazz here is more akin to Chick Corea or the Yellowjackets, but with the odd meters characteristic of Bulgarian music.

Quite honestly, the elements didn't settle together very well right away, at least for this listener. The sound of Spassov's instrument, and his bizarre phrasing, initially comes off in this context like Johnny Rotten singing a track meant for Michael Bolton. The first few cuts also feature some episodes involving abrasive vocalizations and playing on the strings of the piano, which don't make the disc any more approachable.

However, after a few listens, some of the tunes from those opening cuts started coming into my head at random moments. And, after persevering for a while, one comes to some more pleasant tracks. Tudorka, a ballad featuring a lovely vocal from Spassov, and the introspective Ponyakoga-Nikoga (Sometimes-Never) form a duo of mellow, reflective pieces at the center of the disc, and are probably the cuts to which I'll be returning most often.

Certainly, the players here are amazing - not only Spassov, who manages to get something close to the jazz flute from the kaval, but keyboardist Roumen Toskov and drummer Hristo Yotzov. Yotzov makes the odd meters sound natural, while Toskov is fleet-fingered and apparently doubles on synth-bass. The atmospheric sounds that pop up between some cuts are a nice touch, and are stunningly well-recorded.

For world music adventurers, this disc is a worthy new challenge. But be careful playing it for your friends.

The latest by Jim Weider and the Honky Tonk Gurus is rich guitar experience called "Big Foot". Weider is among a handful of musicians chosen to represent and highlight Fender guitars and equipment exclusively, and this particular venture is chock-full of it.

The artist is a favorite sit-in with such populars as Dylan, The Band, Keith Richards, Hot Tuna and even Weir's Rat Dog, to name but a few. There is no doubt that these are only but a few of his influences. There is some heavy Hendrix influence here. As a matter of fact he does an eerie revival of Hendrix's Little Miss Lover that takes his guitar and Lamont Depew vocals and blends them into a flawless echo of the master himself.

His song writing also has that same wanting, crying style that Hendrix was so noted for, as is evident in Deepest Cut, a song that not only shows off his fluid style but the distinct sound of a vintage '54 Telecaster. Each cut, in fact, notes the precise Fender parts needed to reproduce that sound in your own home (if one were so financially inclined). There is an extensive photo chronicle of his Fender collection available at his site, that is an impressive site for the guitar nut or audiophile alike.

As guitarists go, I am surprised I haven't heard more from Weider up until now, his wide ranging style of blues, southern rock and down-and-dirty honky-tonk attitude makes him appealing on many levels. Folks with a burn for Hendrix, SRV or even the Allmans can get plenty out of this disc. And you don't even have to take my word for it, check out Jim Weider's web site, the first cut off of the album, Big Foot, is downloadable as a MP3.

Either way, there is plenty to be heard on this disc, due to its wide-ranging content. It is not, however, all over the place. Its has continuity in it's selections, without sounding the same throughout. The real highlight is the distinct sounds that can be heard from the various equipment, not unlike the Grisman "Tone Poem" ventures. But unlike "Tone Poems", "Big Foot" is far more electrifying, but no less poignant.

It's funny how music runs in families. Some musicians spend their entire lives trying to set themselves apart from perceived expectations and comparisons to their relatives. Bernard Allison never had any such intentions. Instead, the son of the late, renowned bluesman Luther Allison both learned from his father and played alongside him for many years. Bernard's name might not be as familiar to American audiences, mostly because he spent many years touring Europe before returning home to release his second album. The Chicago-bred guitarist presents a hearty mix of electric blues on "Across the Water," and the influences sail through the air in waves. There's some of his father's influence, but some of his father's influences, too. Comparisons with guys like Freddy King and Lightnin' Hopkins are easy to draw. Bernard Allison also spent time as a youngster touring with KoKo Taylor's band. At one point, Johnny Winter was on tour with him as well, so it was inevitable that Allison would pick up some slide guitar licks as he developed his own signature style.

It isn't that surprising that Allison spent so much time touring Europe. The 1980's and early 90's were not an exciting time for blues music in America. In the past five years, however, young blues musicians have made a mark on the American music scene. "Across the Water" stands to further this growth and provides an excellent introduction to an immensely talented performer. Songs like The River's Rising kick the album into high gear from the start, providing a rocking, raucous blues sure to turn heads. Most of the songs on the album are about love lost and found, with the obligatory revenge/reconciliation themes thrown in for good measure.

Meet Me Halfway is representative of the album as a whole. It has Bernard singing and playing his Gibson, but also has a few subtleties to make it interesting. The organ bridge in the middle of the song connects Allison's leads with well-balanced female background vocals. Backing vocals can be a tricky aspect of any album, but here they are used in the right spots throughout. On I Just Came Back to Say Goodbye, Allison opens with some mean guitar crunching that leads into the song, is supported again by strong (dare I say gospel?) vocal backup, and then finishes up with a nifty guitar solo at the end. I Want to Get You Back has a similar theme, but is a slow and saucy anthem of a man scorned: "Sometimes I want to hurt you bad, sometimes I want to hurt you good. I just can't seem to leave you alone, although I know I should."

Love is Free and Work It Out are two bona-fide love songs. Allison's vocals are pretty impressive. They have enough soul in them to appeal to a wide variety of audiences, not just "jam" rock fans by any means. Change Your Way of Living takes a variation on a blues theme and uses a nostalgic piano lead-in to set the mood perfectly. Feels Kinda Funny could be considered the theme song of this album. The message delivered here is simple and to the point: "Blues Will Make You Feel Alright." That seems to be something that today's urban audiences have forgotten. While many younger music fans have traded the roots of B.B. King for disturbing legacy of N.W.A., Bernard Allison proves that you don't need to be a gangster to be musically expressive.

Overall "Across the Water" in a very good album. It gives the listener a glimpse at the roots of the Allison family legacy and provides plenty reasons to explore the musician further. The guitar solos are not so long as to be distracting, but lend strong implications toward Bernard Allison's instrumental talent. The very last track, I've Been Down sounds strikingly like Stevie Ray Vaughn and is a bold move to close out a powerful selection of songs. I would recommend this album to anyone who likes blues and soul, but also those who like blues-inspired rock. At its high points, there is no doubt that this album does indeed rock.

If ya like it funky as hell, jump on the SpyWagon-and get some "Critical Lift" from this funkified four-piece from New York. Jordan Marion drives this bumping bus with his bass and vocals, but Russ Greenspan-keys, Dave Portal-guitar, and John Frederico-drums are working the pedals, adjusting the radio and shifting gears. Self-produced and recorded in 1998, this debut disc is one that will put you in a groovy mood if you aren't there already.

As a reviewer and a listener, there is no better way to catch my ear than to come out smoking on the first track of a disc. SpyWagon does that by unleashing Cider Jack, starting off the disc in a distinctly funky mood. An excellent choice to introduce someone to their sound-self-described as 2 parts funk, 1 part jazz and 1 part rock over ice. The momentum is not lost on track two, Funny Daze, which drives the tempo and funk up a bit further, with Jordans hip-hop vocal feel. The next two tracks expose a bit of the jazzier side of SpyWagon, Under the Gun in Portal's guitar, and the instrumental The Comet which reminds me a bit more of MMW-this jam should be killer live. The tempo drops down for the expressive What Breathes Inside before jumping back into the funky hip-hop feel of Carve a Stride. My Time, Meantime, recorded live at Brownies in NYC in 1997 isn't quite as clean or full from a recording standpoint, but maintains the consistent groove of the rest of the disc without fail. The instrumental work throughout the disc is solid, if not exemplary, and the urban funk feel is enough to get you moving. Only the final live track extends over six minutes, giving us little insight into the jamming tendencies, but given the seamless interplay on the rest of the disc, I would suspect that these guys could turn it out.

The oldest and most uniquely American art, the blues remains to this day, the most expressive form of musical and personal communication between the artist and his audience. Since its beginnings as call and response phrasing using only the voice and rudimentary instruments, blues music has transformed its once scandalous image and substance with the aid of several factors. The advent of the electric blues and the increased popularity brought by interpretations by white kids in the 1960's like Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, and the Grateful Dead are prime examples. As the blues continues to change musically, however, many of its themes remain the same, often focusing on attaining emotional or financial stability and finding happiness and love despite stones in the pathway. Into this ever changing continuum steps the Jamie Hartford Band, whose musical styling belies the blues at moments by mixing it with pure country or more popular instrumental arrangements, but retaining the traditional themes and expressiveness present in the deepest blues.

"Live at the Gibson Cafe" (recorded in Nashville on May 5 and 6, 1999) represents an eclectic musical mix which cannot be rightly classified as "jam music." But, as most such categorized bands attempt to establish a connection with the audience through long, transcendent instrumental passages, the Jamie Hartford Band moves in the opposite direction. They keep the songs and solos brief, so more attention is placed on the lyrics and dominant themes of heartbreak and loss and the hope of realized redemption. The album's first songs, 40 Days and 40 Nights, What About Yes?, and Hard Hard World are all straight blues, relating the drama of unrequited love, and feature some tasty exchanges between guitarists Hartford and Ray Flacke. Mt. Blues, drawing parallels to Robert Johnson's Walking Blues is another track in the traditional blues vein, again showcasing the two guitarists' talents. The soloing is wonderful and there are no toes stepped on instrumentally. The only problem (one which is common to the album) is that both guitarists play the same style instrument, the Fender Telecaster, and resultantly, it is often difficult to determine who is laying down the rhythm and who is the soloist. Nevertheless, the playing is generally solid, with the rhythm section of bassist Charlie Chadwick and drummer Rick Lonow providing a grounded backing and depth to the overall sound, though they could occasionally take greater chances and experiment more with the rhythms.

The band's wide ranging influences become apparent in the following songs, Good Things Happen a celebratory blues thematically along the lines of B.B. King's Sweet Little Angel. The song however, is as much of a pop song as anything else, and like one of the final tracks, Your Secret's Safe seems a musical anomaly when compared to the album's other songs.

The record's real highlights lay within the middle tracks, in which the Hartford Band's kinship with country and rock music is brought to the fore. On I Just Work they borrow themes from Merle Haggard's Working Man Blues and Treat Her Right, featuring a bridge sounding similar to the Kink's You Really Got Me but with a blues feel that helps to further extrapolate the song's fiery yet pleading tone.

The covers of Howlin' Wolf's Killing Floor and the humorous ode to hillbilly drinking, White Lightning though remain true to the originals in both style and substance. They are transformed by the Hartford Band's (especially the rhythm section's), tendency to play "boogie" blues, without the raw, pounding emphasis on the front beat that many blues bands commonly employ. These songs provide a nice juxtaposition to what may be the album's best tracks, the jazzy Starting Over and Cold and Hungry. The latter features the most impressive instrumental workout on the record, as harmonica player Paco Shipp's wonderful solo segues into a brief drum flourish that leaves you wondering why the band didn't stretch it out longer.

In the final analysis, "Live at the Gibson Cafe" stands as a work highly representative of the blues' evolving nature by coupling standards with inventive new pieces moving in non-traditional directions. The mixture of country and blues remains the band's creative strength, one which will hopefully evolve to something stronger in the future. For the moment it is a solid reminder that the blues will survive in various forms because of the ever-present connection to its roots.

The mention of New Orleans brings forth images of crawfish, Mardi Gras and good-time jazz music. Falling in the latter category, Idletime was formed in 1997 as a continuing collaboration of college musicians. Aaron Wilkinson (bass/vocals) and Curtis Joseph (drums) hold it down steady, allowing Ted Hefko (tenor sax/flute) and Tom Leggett (guitar/piano) to trade flowing melody lines. On their self-produced debut disc "Time Stops", Idletime wastes no time letting you know that they are schooled jazz musicians, with chops and a bent for extended jams.

Puern starts off the disc, and this is decidedly a jazz four-piece with some funky rock influences. I would not hesitate to say that Idletime is more of jazz band than a jamband. Hefko and Legett mirror each other until the sax takes the leads with the guitar filling the rhythm. Gus features Leggett on piano and Wilkinson on vocals. To my ear, there is something about Wilkinsons vocal on this track that doesn't mesh with the music, whether it is timbre or timing, I cannot say, but I definitely prefer the more prevalent instrumentals. Lets Talk About It falls into that category, and picks up the tempo a bit-this is my favorite track on the disc. The 11:45 Afghanistan features more of Leggetts funky riffs and Wilkinsons walking bass fills, before yielding to Hefkos sax wails. The jamming is all straight ahead, no real exploratory diversions, but they do turn a few corners in the process. Angelacole drops the tempo into a darker, more sedate mood-the sax lead giving way to Leggetts piano solo, building and sprinkling rain before yielding once again to the horn. The addition of a simple percussion rhythm (Johnny Marcia) on this track is effective. Jane and Nascence are similar in tempo style to the rest of the songs on the disc, sax and guitar mirroring the melody lines. Far from the less pleasing images of hard-drinking hangovers and litter-strewn streets, New Orleans Morning instead wakes the listener up slowly, allowing the Louisiana sun to float through the curtains with Hefkos flute.

This is a disc that will please you on a Sunday afternoon or as late-night soundtrack music for a mellower mood. Catch Idletime out on the road as they finish their current tour, which has taken them through the southwest, California and Colorado before heading back to the southeast. If you like your jams jazzy, you wont be disappointed by Idletime.

Denver's Zeut meld percussive acoustic guitar, flowing violin, boisterous bass lines, meshing drums and congas, and stately mandolin into a lively, organic sound that provides a home for the stimulating vocals of frontwoman Kris Vandewalker. Her hearty voice is rooted in the blues and brings depth to no-nonsense, self-examining lyrics. She sounds a bit like Natalie Merchant, roughened with the earthiness of Shannon Hoon. The band draws some immediate comparisons to Rusted Root - if not for its acoustic-based, energetic vibe, then for its mixed-gender lineup - but there is enough singularity in Robert Eldridge's offbeat guitar rhythms and Vandewalker's voice and lyrics to suggest that Zeut has its own path to carve. Furthermore, the interplay of Amy Moe's violin and Geoff Morris's mandolin weaves a rich blanket of sound that infuses the music with an age-old warmth that can only arise from such traditional instruments.

It is evident throughout "Lion In A Bucket" that Zeut are strongly committed to crafting concise songs, indulging in spirited jams only sparingly. Also, Vandewalker's wordy vocal style simply makes it difficult for the band to find open spaces in which to let it all hang out. Occasionally, they succeed in picking spots. On Another Close Spanish mandolin draws out some fierce fiddling during a brief interlude that leaves you begging for more. Gypsy is an aptly titled, yet brief (2:54) instrumental segue that showcases Zeut's playful side and Vandewalker's Ian Anderson turn on flute. Amply talented with the bow, Moe has no problem filling the vacancy left open by the lack of a substantial lead guitar sound. Her fiddling becomes the prevailing instrumental force throughout the disc, as it rises up to take shotgun beside Vandewalker's formidable delivery.

Although the majority of the songs fall somewhere within the three to five minute range, there are fifteen of them (two are strange recordings of Eldridge playing king of the jungle, which make the grand total seventeen). This is a staggering amount of music to swallow when unfamiliar with any new band's music, but you can't blame Zeut for giving the public their money's worth. Still, this album could have just as easily housed eleven or twelve songs and that would have sufficed. Though there are some gems here, no doubt. On Evil Twin Moe lends her pipes to the vocal mix, joining Vandewalker in an infectious ode to lovestruck nomads. The song is driven by Eldridge's relentless strumming and again colored by Moe's prolific fiddling. A deep, plodding guitar riff introduces No Excuses and leads into a relatively reserved offering, until the tempo picks up, and Zeut is off and running, fiddles and mandolins flying. Little Things is a simple, yet stirring, combination of plaintive acoustic guitar, heartfelt vocals, and resonant fretless bass that paints a picture of the harsh ironies of everyday life. "Lion in a Bucket" is a strong musical statement from an unpretentious band that seems at home within the pleasant confines of a developing sound.

The spare, no frills funk of drummer Brannen Temple gives way to the washed-out slink of Willie Oteri's guitar, setting the stage for the extensive exploration of Miles Davis's Spanish Key that opens "Concepts of...", a collaboration by some of Austin's finest jazz innovators. The track, taken from Davis's orchestral experiment with Gil Evans, "Sketches of Spain", bristles with an organic vitality too often missing in current jazz. "Concepts of..." is loose in all the right places, leaving room for the music to breathe and swagger through unexpected alleys.

Matematoot is the brainchild of guitarist Willie Oteri, but the grandstanding that top-billing might insinuate is delightfully absent. As the album shifts from straight jazz to free jazz to fusion, the band surges and subsides as a unit, always putting the whole before the part. This ego-free approach is the glue that both binds and liberates, allowing each player to explore new threads with the sound assurance that everyone else is listening as intently as he.

The second cover on this five track album, Joe Zawinul's Pharaoh's Dance exemplifies this democratic process as it dissolves into what is essentially a jam on silence. Michael Malone's saxophones whisper captivating themes from the corner that are quickly complemented by guitars as the rhythm section rumbles in hushed tones. The ebb and flow captures what is best about Matamatoot, their ability to seemingly let the music guide itself through over fourteen minutes of slowly revelatory beauty.

The originals bear up well next to the covers. The ballad, Song of the Sea Witch is a meditation on Malone's patient melodies and the punch of Matematoot showcases the groups sense of color and time. The final cut, Brannen's Jam > Spanish Key is a long-exposure snap shot of the band in full swing featuring some of the finest playing on the album. Oteri and Chris Tondres's guitars sear and growl, shifting unpredictably, setting the tone for a group that sees the safe road ahead and takes an abrupt right.

In all, "Concepts of..." is an extensively jammed album from very experienced players (members had done stints with musicians from Eric Johnson to Roy Hargrove to Chaka Khan) that will grab all you jazz loving jambands fans by the lapels and shake you back to life.