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Index To Reviews
"Turn It Out" - Soulive
"Turn It Out" - Soulive Velour Recordings review by Evan Leon Soulive are dropping a huge bomb on the jazz and funk scenes with this one. They're trying to bring jazz closer to the front of the jamband scene, freeing it from the reputation of just being part of most jam musicians' influences and showing everyone where it all really started. And just to make sure they're giving everyone the complete history lesson, they include the full range of what they're capable of. Extremely well-produced studio tracks, ranging from the hardcore jazz like Steppin' and Doin' Something, to slow, soulful and funky cuts like Azucar. And, with only three tracks, an equally broad range of excellent quality live tracks demanding attendance at the next show that rolls into town. The only drawback to the studio tracks on the album is that the tones of the instruments remain too similar throughout. The heads (composed sections) of the tunes are naturally distinguishable (and very well thought out and complex, no less), but upon multiple listenings of the disc, I found myself lost in the middle of a track sometimes, with absolutely no clue what I was listening to anymore. It didn't really bother me, because the playing was tight, but it takes a little away from the individuality of the songs. All of that goes completely out the window once you get a taste of the live stuff. Approaching the intensity level of the pioneers that gave jazz and funk their reputations, they tear through impossible, on a dime changes and tightly composed jazz epics. From the first few seconds of the first live track on the disc, Uncle Junior, I started sweating. A slow, droning buildup slammed into the beginning of the song, with guitarist Eric Krasno effortlessly stringing notes together like water. Then, at around nine minutes into the track, a quick guitar change is immediately backed up by drummer Al Evans and keyboardist Neal Evans into one of the most powerful changes I have heard from any recent jazz group. That live energy is captured in the other two tracks as well (including a guest appearance by Oteil Burbridge on So Live!). So if you're a jazz/funk fan, you will definitely find some aspect of their style to get down with.. and if you're the type that has tried to listen to jazz in the past but it all sounds the same to you, here's the perfect introduction. And it appears that keyboardist Neal is *not* currently leaving the band, as has been reported in the past weeks, so there will be plenty of time to see them in person.
"Live At High Sierra" - Slipping Daylights Sometimes noodling, bordering on atrocious fiddling of instruments is equated to improvisation. What is more depressing about this realization is that in fact fans of these acts claim the band has "jazzy" flavorings. While it is true that jazz is the root of improvisation, this comment is misinformed. Jazz's improvisation early on, during the years of Charlie Parker, was chordal based. After this style of improvisation became recognized as tedious, modal and antiphonal styles replaced the old bebop style. When one listens with an acumen ear, a distinction is clearly noticed. Certainly there is a fine line at this point, one that becomes merely subjective: what makes what John Zorn does with Cobra brilliant, and what a generic jamband does foolish? There is no easy answer to this question. Therefore, the Slipping Daylights' latest release will be a guinea pig, allowing for the exegesis and comprehension of true improvisation. For the uninitiated, the Slipping Daylights are a six-piece band, consisting of the members of The Slip and The Living Daylights. The album contains their first performance together, a 61 minute jam, where no overtly clear songs are played. Instead the sextet moves between movements, displaying keen ears and empathetic playing, saving it from being a chaotic, masturbatory, work of art. This album doesn't really get started until about 12 minutes in. This is the writer's opinion, as the first 12 minutes sound as though the band is searching for a groove, as well as trying to come to an understanding of each musician's role in the process of music making. Approximately 15 minutes into the disc, the band begins to groove, held down by the two bassists Arne Livingston and Marc Friedman, being accentuated by the two drummers Andrew Barr and Dale Fanning. As the rhythm section gets funky, Jessica Lurie blows some Ornette Coleman influenced sax lines: sometimes bordering on to free jazz. It is a strange mix that works marvelously. One point to mention, which frightened me was the presence of two bassists. What makes this work is that both of the bassists have told different styles. Livingston will often play higher more guitar-styled sounds while Friedman plays on the low end. As soon as Friedman takes one of his famous solos, Livingston moves to the low end. Another benefit that two bassists offer is the additional texture available within the ensemble. On many of Miles Davis electric releases of the 1970s, multiple bassists can be found, which Miles said gave him an "African texture, funk vibe". At 25:48, the disc starts to get explosive. Livingston plays some great melody lines, while the band around him goes absolutely wild. What makes the jam work is not the interplay between the drummers, or the solid deep bass line held by Friedman to accentuate Livingston, but the neat vamps played by Brad Barr and Lurie. The sax and guitar harmonize. Somehow out of this playing, the band falls into the chorus of Syeeda's Song Flute. What is remarkable is that they begin to realize their brilliance, resulting in Jessica Lurie and Friedman playing the beginning of this Coltrane gem. This is as close to a recognizable song as is displayed during this entire session. At about this point, Brad Barr takes his only extended solo of the session. His guitar lines are unequivocally jazz, similar to Kenny Burrell, but with a Middle Eastern flair. Lurie, towards the end of Brads solo, blows a little more of the Coltrane vamp to Syeedas Song Flute and then like a fleeting thought, it ends. Now the fun really begins. After the percussion jam that follows, the band starts playing everything via call and response. This antiphonal method is quite difficult, yet yields some remarkable results. Of note is that Lurie will play a line, which Marc Friedman will pick up and repeat. Brad Barr then plays what Friedman plays and the process continues. This is not childish "jamming", nor is it just "noise" as some might react, but nuanced listening and it proves the greatness of this disc as well as the Slip and The Living Daylights. Around this point in the playing, the band also begins to sound seasoned and rather instinctive for a first time unit. Probably the most beautiful moment comes at 42 minutes in. The band plays a gorgeous ballad, with what sounds like a djembe being played by one of the drummers (or is it Jeff Sipe who is thanked on the back of the CD as playing "sans mics"?). The song sounds orchestrated, like it had been discussed before hand. As Lurie blows a plaintive melody, Barr adds fills, which are swells in between Luries notes. A remarkable jam, certain to stand hairs on the back of the listeners neck. The reason why these four minutes are so awe-inspiring is that ballads are difficult to play, period. For six people to sit together for the very first time and play something of this caliber is ineffable, which no amount of circumlocutions can describe. Dubiously the best four minutes of jazz that has come into my eardrums in the past few months. To answer the opening question, great improvisation is playful, but displays techniques and attentive listening. If all of these players where not schooled in chordal movements, modal and antiphonal techniques, this album would have been an utter failure. What sets this album apart are these factors, plus the issue that not one person takes over, being overtly deprecating and loud. The playing on this album is about being an ensemble and making music, not making your instrument heard. Do whatever is necessary to get this album. Keep it as a reminder of the empyrean lands music, when it is art, can reach.
"Goodbye 20th Century" - Sonic Youth Sonic Youth Recordings 4 review by Matt Van Brink The late twentieth-century has seen a blurring of the lines between composer, performer, past and present. Take the turntablist phenomenon, for example: here is a new breed of musician who, for the most part, manipulates others' recordings to make new music. So who deserves the credit for excellent turntable music - the composers of the source recordings or the performer (the turntablist) for putting them all together? If it is good music, the answer really doesn't matter, but by knowing the relationship of the source to its manipulation, the music can take on a greater meaning. Most likely, only a turntable-connoisseur would recognize the sources and understand that relationship. So where does that leave the rest of us amateurs? Sonic Youth's new 2-disc 13-track 100-minute "Goodbye 20th Century" presents a similar scenario. On this, Sonic Youth's fourth album in their self-released experimental series "Musical Perspectives," the band (Kim Gordon, Lee Ranaldo, Steve Shelley, Thurston Moore) plays compositions by mid- to late-twentieth century composers Nicolas Slonimsky, Yoko Ono, George Maciunas, Cornelius Cardew, James Tenney, Takehisa Kosugi, John Cage, Christian Wolff, Steve Reich, and Pauline Oliveros. Sonic Youth is joined in performance by Christian Marclay, Coco Hayley Gordon Moore, Wharton Tiers, co-producers William Winant and Jim O'Rourke, and composers Takehisa Kosugi and Christian Wolff. All of the composers represented on this album, with the exception of Slonimsky, are known for their experimental and improvisatory compositions. These "aleatoric" compositions selected here are notated traditionally, graphically, with performance instructions in English, or by any combination of these elements, leaving instrumentation, amount of players and a whole lot of personal interpretation up to the performers. I was able to get my hands on a few of the scores of the compositions, and I attempted to follow along with the record. This proved silly, since the indeterminacy of the compositions can extend to the performer's choice of the order in which to play things on the page! At other times, though, it was helpful to have the score. The music for Steve Reich's Pendulum Music (which concludes the first disc) is one paragraph of prose describing the setup and execution of the piece, in which four microphones pendulum-swing above the speakers which amplify them. The musical effect is a stunning six-minute track. No liner notes are supplied for this album, thus leaving the aleatoric amateurs somewhat in the dark. Still, the actual sounds on the album, whether composed by the composer or by the performer, are at different times beautiful, minimal, ambient, noisy, and improvisatory. In this context, there are two non-sequiturs: Yoko Ono's 12-second-long Voice piece for Soprano (a scream performed by Coco Hayley Gordon Moore) and Slonimsky's calliope-like Pièce Enfantine. In the genre of aleatoric music, it is hard to tell the differences between the composer's style, the composition, the performer's realization of the composition, and the performer's style. Each performance of such a composition is different because each performer interprets the composition according to his or her own life experiences. Thus, in a sense, this truly is an album "by" Sonic Youth. In another sense, this is in fact an album "by" various twentieth century composers. It's not important to decide. Who should hear this album? The Sonic Youth fans with love to hear the band in this new context. The aleatoric music fans will love to hear a new spin on these classic works. The rest of you may just love the sounds themselves, apart from these conceptual matters. But I sort of doubt it.
"Jam" - the
Darol Anger-Mike Marshall Band The sight of label copy on the cover of a CD is almost always a disconcerting one. Its function, no more and no less, is to try and convince someone to purchase the disc. In that, it blatantly acknowledges that the product in hand is, well, a product. In other words, it is not a piece of art. It is there to be consumed. It's hard to take anything with a motto seriously. The Darol Anger-Mike Marshall Band has a motto. "StringBandMusic for the next millennium." It says it right there on the back cover. It's really a crying shame, too. They really don't need a motto, let alone one that undercuts them in such a manner. Any phrase with the words "for the next millennium" should be enough to arouse contempt. The fact is, the last thing we need is string band music for the next millennium; not because there's no room for the genre to develop, but because almost anything that tries to sound futuristic fails miserably. Thankfully, despite the promise on the back cover - and all of its subsequent implications and limitations - the Anger-Marshall Band falls very definitely in the tradition of such luminaries as the David Grisman Quintet (an ensemble of which both Marshall and Anger are alumni), Bela Fleck and the Flecktones, New Grass Revival, and Psychograss (another outfit that both Marshall and Anger belong to). What we have here is a tradition that belongs squarely to the late 20th century: the integration of Django Reinhardt with the spirit of rock and roll. "Jam" upholds it. String band music has, for the past quarter century, run a course that seems across between bluegrass and the jamband scene. Given the way the music sounds, this isn't too surprising. Just as with bluegrass and Bill Monroe, there is - for the most part - an undisputed patriarch to the genre: David Grisman. As with Monroe, many of the finest players in the idiom came up through the ranks in Grisman's band. Certain conventions have since evolved, many of which seem awfully similar to the jamband scene. The first and - if one is take the name of the album seriously - and most important aspect, in this case, is a dedication to collective improvisation. There are three pieces on "Jam" which are credited to the full band - Mike Marshall on mandolin, Darol Anger on fiddle, Derek Jones on bass, and Aaron Johnston on percussion - as group improvisation. The first two - Day 1/Tune 1 and Deep Blue both begin with quick attacks from Johnston before settling into interesting, if unidirectional, grooves. The musicians' listening is quite sensitive, though the playing isn't quite directed enough. The music is left floundering in space. All of the musicians are quite capable. Marshall and Anger have been playing together for years. They blend perfectly. However, their musical relationship with the rhythm section seems to ride more on virtuosity than actual chemistry. If the band is willing to give this time on the road, this too will surely develop. The third improvisation, and final track on the album, Autumn Aleatorics is a different story. The jamming is much freer than the previous two attempts and, as a result, somewhat more ordered. There is more space between the musicians and the instruments have more room to breathe. One of the beauties of the mandolin, of the octaves that lie between some of the notes, is that it has a wonderfully taut airiness to it. On Autumn Aleatorics, that manages to be stretched out to the capacity of the full band. Beginning at about two minutes into the track, the band is with each other. At about 5:30 in, everything clicks and the band clicks into the most effective groove of the three out-and-out jams on the disc... which, unfortunately, stops abruptly two minutes later. Of the original compositions featured here, Marshall's definitely fare best. While, at times, they sound similar to some of Grisman's work in terms of descending melody lines, they have a unique, almost smirking, character all their own. That comparison, though, might only be drawn because of the similarities the two seem to have encountered translating blow/breath/blow jazz phrasing to the mando. There is a humor and warmth to Couscous and New Spring; serious music that doesn't necessarily take itself seriously. The only real bummer of an original on here is Anger's composition Thrice Told Is True. And that's only head that doesn't work. It sounds like the string band equivalent of cool jazz. This, I think, is due to the fact that the smoothness of Anger's fiddle fretting makes it sound quite similar to the ineffectual bleating of Kenny G's soprano saxophone. By the middle of the song, though, the band dynamic has been restored. Bassist Derek Jones is a solid player who often anchors the wandering tones of Marshall and Anger. Jones's playing, at times, sounds like Victor Wooten when he's not slapping. Another tradition shared with the jambands scene is that of oddly chosen cover material. There's Jacob Do Bandolim's Flight Of The Fly as well as Bach's Sarabande In B Minor. And, following in the footsteps of Psychograss's rendition of Third Stone From The Sun, the Anger-Marshall Band takes on Purple Haze, though I'm not sure why. Psychograss's take on Third Stone managed to convey some of the utter spaciness of the Hendrix tune. This crawl-through utterly fails to convince. It meanders along and sways gently from side-to-side without every reaching any of the chaos that is the essence of the song's melody. Eh, complaints. All in all, the band cuts itself short by labeling itself. The music itself isn't an outward expansion of an established form; more a document of a linear growth. As soon as the band is ready to completely thrown all caution to the wind and improvise, however, they will be capable of creating gorgeous music.
"Fruition" - freebeerandchicken freebeerandchicken came into my life when I was a sophomore at SUNY (State U. of NY) in Oswego, NY. Their particular blend of joyous, wholesome, ass-shambling, countryfied down-home goodness is the focus of the band's recent second studio effort, "Fruition." In small, cozy bars like Oswego's Old City Hall, the lats would pack up, and, with the wood-burning stove cranking in the wintry deep-freeze, fb&c often warmed up audiences with a wild bacchanalian frenzy mixing unselfconsciously emotive lyrics, and reedy, rollickingly slap-happy hoe-downing. It is just this heedless tangle of space, place, warmth and...well...booze and hollering, which gets lost on the band's tasteful and sweet, yet disembodied, eight-song CD. Songs like the opener, Sugar Plum, are emblematic of the Damian Ubriaco's ripe, swaggering vocals set alongside Chris Sullivan's smooth, grinning guitar solos, and Seth Rostan's balmy saxophone underpinnings. Traffic Jam points out the band's ample ability to leave the country behind, delving into sharp, nonchalant expulsions of chatty solo-ridden, Doobie-tinged funkification. Here, brothers Kirk and Ken Juhas lock together in a driving, jazzy bass/keys bouillabaisse which creates the knee-pumping impetus for the band's vital live voyages. Even truly morose and elemental jazz explorations are not outside the realm of this big band with an unapologetically gleeful small-town vibe. Songs like 78 Colors tread the line of brainy jazz ennumerations, moving what are otherwise rather ordinary (yet fairly enjoyable) grassrootsy jam tunes into a broader realm closer to the band's more improvisationally instrumental ancestors. The mystically groovy "Evening Sun" picks up a little of the slack, mixing whimsical guitar celebrations and Creedence-esque boldness, and smart-alecky drum whirls by the simply-named Skaticus. However, it's by the time the CD rolls around to the final tune, Packin' My Bags, that I began to detect the caged feeling I'd gotten, witnessing the very format from which the music had been articulating itself. I know that as a fan of music, and especially one of live music, one can't keep finding fault in the studio efforts that a band may necessarily have to undertake within their career. But freebeerandchicken's main strength, to me, is in the deeply meaningful expressions of their various members as they shuffle, blow and sway along to their crunchy inner rhythms, in a live setting. They're not the most elaborate band ever, but they've been doing what they've been doing for a long time, and are pretty alright at it. If "Fruition" is meant to convey some semblance of freebeerandchicken's upfront, joyous party atmosphere, it succeeds, but pretty marginally. It does, however, prove fb&c worthy of being checked out. Go see 'em live, and with that, I'll guarantee your butt will move, at least once. Then buy the CD as a souvenir, till next time they arrive.
"Drive" - F-Hole Creating a thematic album, where every song is related to one central idea, is always a bit of a gamble. The musicians have to pick a good idea so that the listener will buy into it or else they are sunk in a hurry. They also have to be able to successfully convey this idea in a way that keeps the listener interested. F-Hole, a three-piece instrumental band from Lambertville, New Jersey, succeeds in both cases. Their recent release, "Drive," mirrors a ride on the open road, with the music and various effects changing along with the scenery. Drummer J.P. Wasicko, guitarist Scott Metzger, and bass player Matt Kohut are also part of Tom Marshall's band Amfibian, so it should be no surprise that there is a good bit or experimentation and genre blending on this album. Kohut has also logged playing time with Ween and Moe Tucker, formerly of Velvet Underground. Heavy use of effects by all three players tends to give this album a trance or hip-hoppish flavor at times, but their improvisational qualities definitely qualify them as a jamband. The first half of the album in bold and racy, as the classically trained jazz guitarist Metzger uses the distortion and reverb on his guitar to simulate the cranking of an engine. On Drive, he starts out a minor key playing a somewhat mysterious James Bondish theme once the song gets going. Wasicko picks up the pace a little on his kit and the listener can feel the acceleration of the sonic auto as it speeds out of the city and into wide-open lanes. Go Left drops the texture of the groove down into murkier waters, lending a really strong hip-hop element to the album. It's actually pretty hard to tell how much of this is being overdubbed or added in the studio, but the bass lines are at their most prominent here, in any case. The pairing and order of the songs is pretty significant, as each one seems to serve as a contrast to the one before it. The elements are all very similar, but the ways in which they are combined is what makes the ideas on this album successful. Crossing is a short segue at only 2:32 of total playing time, but the three musicians simulate the sound of a train crossing complete with that "ding, ding, ding"sound at the crossing gate and "chug-chug" sound of the train itself. OnExpress, there is a whole lot of sustain on the guitar chords, giving them an echoing quality. The drumming here also starts out with a basic, simple beat, before increasing the intensity towards the end. Making Time marks a definite change it the tone for the second half of the album. It starts out much softer than the previous tracks, with the percussion in the background, as the scenery outside the car blurs by. The remaining tracks are also spacier, and not coincidentally, Moonis the best example of this. You Know What To Do is the last track and also the longest. Metzger's guitar work is at its best here. His instrumental passages are so good that I can't help but wonder why they didn't lay off the reverb a little. This is probably a potential case of less being more, but at least he was consistent. Overall "Drive" is an intriguing album. It does take more than one full listen to appreciate some of the subtle themes at play. The combination of actual human performance and studio effects makes for some original music. It also makes one wonder how these three musicians collaborate with Tom Marshall in their other project, Amfibian.
"Live Stages" - Moses
Guest Moses Guest is one of the more pleasant surprises I have received as a result of doing these reviews. First off, the pure talent of the band makes them worth checking out, but there is more there than that. If you are a DeadHead, as I am sure there are many reading this right now, let me just say that these guys can claim more than an influence. The CD opens with such a sweet jam of incredible quality, that it seems the band couldn't not release it somehow. At a mere 3:43 on the clock, the Intro Jam catapulted me from the moment I heard what sounded like Garcia warming up for the second set! I usually don't like to totally typecast a band, but there is more than a passing resemblance here. The patented envelope filter sound that Jerry made his own with songs like Estimated Prophet and Shakedown Street, suddenly reached out and grabbed me from the steady, pulsing chord progression of Over the Car/Under the Stars. And don't miss this homey and unique version of I Know You Rider. I should make sure to mention that these tasty guitar morsels are played, compliments of Graham Guest; who along with Rick Thompson on keyboards and as well as guitar, provide the soothing vocals to go along with these driving rhythms. The two also act as their own producers, while Graham triples as main composer and song arrangements. I believe he may also pull nights at the Waffle House when he's not busy, but I haven't been able to nail down concrete proof on that one yet. Besides, I haven't even attempted to reach him for comment on that one, so there. The rhythm section of Jeremy Horton and James Edwards on bass guitar and drums respectively, though never overpowering, provide a ceaseless and steady stream for these guys to sail on. There is even some of what seems like some fine Southern Rock influence sprinkled liberally throughout. Nowhere is it more prominent than in the grinding and driving Boogie Heartache/Right Down. Here we are treated to smattering of solos each member, enough at least to get taste of what they are capable of when not constrained to a traditional release as opposed to the live performance itself. None the less, if pressed to try to define them without too many tangents, I'd have to say the have a big funky sound, for only being four guys from Texas. Maybe they really do make everything bigger down there! Remember, I am writing this from New Hampshire (you've got to love this global economy)! I'll wrap this whole thing up by giving Moses Guest the highest honor I can. A guy that I work with will be heading down to Mardi Gras soon (as this is written, that is), and he plans to make a Moses Guest show if at all possible; and long distance travel is not an issue for him in this situation. These guys have a great sound that, although it has many obvious influences, is there own when it all comes together. And believe me, it all comes together!
"The East Main Street Suite" - Willie Alexander "every morning roundabout nine / the east 2nd street red fire engines whinebivouacs in the groovy lower east side barracks / makin friends wid homespun poet pundit bums / constantly recitin jack kerouac"(1) Some artists remain in dark abodes, perceived as troglodytes, where they constantly turn out art of impressing proportions. Often strangled by the media, their work is vital for the future. These types of workers gain posthumous accolades, ten years down the road receive enormous notoriety, are whispered about in interviews: "Yeah, that painting, that album changed my perception on life, led me to where I am now." A question that is raised by these statements is; why do so many artists remain unknown at this time period and suddenly become mainstays in future years? Norman Bryson, a prominent art historian/literary theorist states in his book "Vision and Painting" that painting like Manet's "Olympia" were not understood in their own time because they contained symbols that where beyond the understandings of society. Manet's painting exhibited a prostitute, nude, in a moment of defiance. Few artists, maybe even Manet himself, at the time realized the deep ramifications of such an act. After all, centuries of paintings had been created with the opposite in mind, the obsequious woman, laying nude to raise the onlookers (typically male of course) level of testosterone. Only now, with our modern symbols in place does Manets painting make "sense" and its view heralded by those against the age-old holes commonly relegated for women. In a few respects, this may be the reason for Willie Alexander's obscurity (but destined stardom), although with music these days, it's rare to create something beyond people's system of symbols. When one listens to his latest release "The East Main Street Suite", various idioms are readily noticeable. Jazz (and more particularly the boogie-woogie style playing of Maude Lux Lewis), rock and roll, poetry/spoken word and hip-hop are all melted together. None of the sounds displayed on this disc will leave one scratching their head, nothing akin to a John Coltrane live performance circa 1966, brimming with a plethora of vicissitudes. Still there remains this enigmatic air to Alexander's overall sound that yields an artistic album that is demiurgic, although if people give it a moment to work (with an open mind) may never let it out of their CD player. "I dreamed I was a doll / Standing tall / on Doll Mountain". Doll Mountain, begins with a blues in G, with Alexander vamping on the chords from Miles Davis All Blues, as the horns of Ken Field and Mark Chenevert duel. In between the chorus, he adds a bit of spoken word - progressive beatnik/Slam styled reading. What makes this track interesting is the ambience that it emits: a smoke filled bar with a jazz band loud, cacophony creating crowd, someone hollering for a beer, some floozy just walked in off of the street. Its not that a bustling bar has been recorded and lies in the mix, but that in-between the notes, those empty spaces not filled with a hi-hat, horns or piano, there is a sound that emanates; carrying this vision into the listeners mind. Hence the title of this album, "The East Main Street Suite". Certainly the title is filled with some rhyming, and has an onomatopoeia effect resulting in a type of hi-hat jazz shuffle intonation. Though the title is also significant with regards to the music produced here. Whether it is the fog, the people, the taxis, the crash of cars or the combing of an infant's hair before departing for school, this album is about the sounds of the city. Although not salient, it is impossible to listen to these songs, which flow from one to the other like a suite, and not have a cinematic effect occur inside of the mind. Almost like an old black and white movie of the city, a film noir piece, with characters that move, but skip due to the ancient projector, and stand out on dark, rain clad streets. What Alexander does with sound to achieve this is ineffable, but certain clues to the answer can be found. Ebony and Ivory permeates like a fog, reminiscent of T.S. Eliot's fog:
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the windowpanes, The cause of this feeling is easy for even the most myopic: a synthesizer droning and a drum machine. Thus it creates an atmospheric feel, a sense of thickness. Herb Pomeroy's trumpet sounds tentative, like it is searching for a way out, or a beacon of light to find shore, to use the common seagoing/fog analogy. Alexander's voice, this time singing and then speaking, with a bit of an effect, seems distant, as if the fog has suddenly dissipated his ability to project. Despite this feeling of fog, Alexander's voice is weary ("voice subdued, calm collect self, looking for so better a change" he appears to be singing), expressive, not unlike Pomeroys trumpet, searching for an answer in the city. Many tracks on this album have this similar jazz/lounge/atmospheric feel like Eat What You Can, Josephine and Jono (which will gain the attention of many Kerouac fans, with its stream of conscious lyrics and modern day coffee shop reading feel), Oceans Condo #2 and People Everyday. All contain a brooding, morose tone of the city: a vagrant searching for a park bench to rest his mind chasing away Manns demons; is masterful and a defining feature of Willie Alexander's music, as well as a mirror reflection of his muse. Other tracks, such as the radio friendly Bass Rocks are not only upbeat, but reflect the other sentiment aroused in the city, of exhilarating chaos. An endomorphic dizziness often accompanies a visit to a large metropolitan area. Bass Rocks encapsulates this excitement. Visions of moving briskly down streets, filled with warm bodys, cold hearts run through the mind upon hearing this tune: some guy pushes you from the door of the taxi, brief case in hand, leaving you grinning. "BASS ROCKS" you yell as you wave for another cab. There aren't too many musicians with the ability to be subtle and paint with notes and lyrics: the uncanny ability to add splashes of vermilion to a canvas in between strokes. Alexander is one, and his music is created for a lasting effect during an epoch when other music seems emaciated. To listen to this disc is to visualize what is implied. It is in the unsaid and the unheard that Willie Alexander is a genius, and "The East Main Street Suite" is a masterpiece. 1) Beaty, Paul. Joker, Joker, Deuce. New York: Penguin, 1994. 2) Eliot, T.S. "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." The Norton Anthology to English Literature. New York: Norton and Company, 1993.
"Lay Down and Love It Live" - Sonia Dada There is a certain excitement that you feel when you are about to experience something for the first time. Seeing a movie when you haven't heard any hype, seeing two little league teams battling for bragging rights instead of trophies, or listening to a disc of a band that you've never heard when you have never even heard a description of the music. It was with this type of excitement that I dove into the "lay DOWN and LOVE it LIVE" disc by Sonia Dada. I was left like the child spectator pictured on the back cover- mouth agape and staring in wonderment at this new marvel that I had just discovered. There are certain key components that distinguish a high quality collection of music: Composition, orchestration, execution, and artistry must all combine to form a whole new entity. In each of these aspirations, Sonia Dada excels, foretelling their future as music ambassadors to the soul. Perhaps the most striking quality of this collection is the superior compositional style of this band. Songs are tales- communicating settings, characters, and plots. The lyrics seem not to be sung as much as lines that are delivered into the setting laid out by the music. These songs seem to be more closely related to the music of the first half of the century when Broadway and Folk defined the musical consciousness of the people. Lester's Methodone Clinic is a perfect example. When you have finished consuming this song, you feel as if you have been transported into a story, whose scenery and texture are palpable. Your mind easily pictures the sound, visualization. You feel familiar, though not comfortable, with the surroundings. These songs have a universal appeal that extends beyond any particular genre and reaches into the hearts of music lovers. No less striking is Sonia Dada's ability to fill the confines of this disc with vibrant and rich sound. Whether through the penetrating subtlety of a percussion triangle in the aforementioned Methodone Clinic or the classic funk styling of Never See Me Again Sonia Dada continually impress with their command of the band's sound. These sounds smoothly rove from standard rock formulas to Gospel spirituals, from Grateful Dead-inspired improvisational intros to horn driven R&B. If it were not so seamless and crafted, these musical shifts would blind you. Full steam ahead vamping gives way to the soulful ballad of Amazing Jane. Given the quality of the composition and orchestration, it is no surprise that the talent driving the performance is of the highest caliber. Most striking is the evocative and agile vocal work, supplied by Shawn Christopher, Paris Delane, and Michael Scott. I am used to three-part vocal harmony, but the depth and spirit of these voices genuinely lifted my expectations and set a new standard for vocal quality. Paris Delane has a soaring voice that has the heft and weight that I had only seen in the greats: Aretha, Janis, and Ella. There is a bass vocalist, and I am not certain if it is Christopher or Scott, that has the ability to freeze the listener. I have never heard a bass vocalist of this quality off of a theatrical stage. And the male lead vocal is attention grabbing and exciting in the front, driving the melodic center of the songs. For fear that I am not including the excellent instrumental abilities of this band, I must mention that the rhythm section of Larry Beers on drums, Erik Scott on bass, Chris Cameron on piano and B3 is supportive and steady. A pocket is created without drawing attention too heavily away from the song. This cradles the performers and the listener equally. The Persistence Horns and the guitar duo of Phil Miller and Dan Pritzker round out the sound, supplying all of the kick and pomp that is necessary in music as genuine as this. All of this talent would be wasted, were it not directed and nurtured into an original musical vehicle with purpose and energy. Thankfully, Sonia Dada is artistic enough to really sculpt this sound into a collection that is diverse and yet focused. Fusing elements of literally dozens of styles (Doo-Wop, Folk, Southern Rock, Funk, R&B, Motown.. it is a never-ending list) Sonia Dada creates music that defies style and genre classifications. That this music inspires joy and sadness is unquestionable. The listener is so comfortable with this stylistic baptism that even a cover of Sly Stone's I Want to Take You Higher is no shock. It rolls off the tip of this album's tongue without a stutter or slur. "Lay Down and Love it Live" will leave you stunned. It stands up to a continuous listen as well as the random shuffle with equal excellence, further illustrating the quality of the songs. Rarely does modern music become Art worthy of the attention of future and present generations alike. Rarely do artists ascend so brilliantly into stardom while still strolling among us. Do yourself a favor- experience this album, experience Sonia Dada.
self-titled - Tarbox
Ramblers On their forthcoming Rounder release, the Tarbox Ramblers drag traditional country blues grunting and growling into the 21st century. The Boston quartet preserves the raw feel of a bunch of primitive folk songs and a handful of like-minded originals while finding within each a solid groove to explore. Like a jug band or an old-time Appalachian string band, this outfit emphasizes the sum of its parts more than the showcasing of individual talents. The group effort provides intriguing interplay, though, between the gritty lead vocals of Michael Tarbox and the more soothing tones of Dan Keller's fills on fiddle and Tarbox' own slide work. On tunes such as The Cuckoo and St. James Infirmary, it's as if Keller is using his fiddle to figuratively put a comforting arm around the shoulder of a troubled friend. The pair is urged to keep moving down the road by the driving beat of Jon Cohan on percussion and Johnny Sciascia on upright bass. The Ramblers display the ability to change gears cleanly as they shift from the aggressive gospel of Honey In The Rock to the psychedelic blues of Tarbox original Third Jinx Blues, which at 5:10 is the longest cut on the album, and then to a sprightly version of Columbus Stockade Blues. There is an unusually upbeat version of Oh Death, but this is a band that can turn a field holler into a dance tune. They may have the blues, but they're not about to pout when they could be having a hoedown. The CD is slated to hit the streets in April. In the meantime, you can listen to an mp3 of Shake 'Em On Down by visiting the band's web site at: http://www.tarboxramblers.com. And if you find yourself in the Boston area some weekend, check them out at The Green Street Grille in Cambridge on Fridays and The Burren in Somerville on Saturdays.
"Fire, Life, and Waterline" - Pure Noodle There is a certain threshold a band can cross where they go from being merely another JamBand and become a jazz ensemble. I can't say for sure if Pure Noodle has crossed that particular line, and I'm not sure if they could tell you whether or not they did either, chances are they were jamming at the time and didn't notice. My first impressions of them was borderline to Bela Fleck and the Flecktones with a dash of America. Translation: Lots of extremely well executed notes, and technically pleasing harmonies; some groove, but without much wide ranging exploration. There is no doubt in my mind that this band has done their homework. Andrew DeGrasse performs some of most choice piano/organ playing that I have heard of late. In an age where the guitar is the instrument of choice (usually because it's chosen at the age of 15, when the budding young artist is trying desperately to attract women), DeGrasse's boogie-woogie piano sound during Jimi is a fresh release from some of the constant guitar-weedeling that's out there today. He also has a nice handle on how to tickle his organ (a talent many of us possess, I agree), prominent in such cuts as Long Engines, and Daisychain. That's not to say that there isn't some talented guitar work afoot here as well, just the opposite in fact. Ghyan Koehne and Casady Maxwell make use of some clean guitar licks to conjure up the spectre of Metheny, and the next moment play along with each other in the tandem spirit of the Allmans. As I have said, these guys are very talented, but there also seems to be something lacking. I never really got pulled in to the music, the emotion and passion just wasn't there for me. However, I have been around long enough to know that that kind of thing can happen when a live band goes into the studio, and my goal is to try to get a hold of some live stuff and see if we can't remedy this. The nice thing is that you can judge for yourself without basing anything on my limited opinion. Pure Noodle has done something that I think all bands with a website should try to do these days, they have posted cuts of each and every song at www.purenoodle.com. The cuts are available in three of the major formats being used these days. There is also some samples of an earlier release there, if you deem them worthy it's worth a look-see. So go check out the site, it's a pretty friendly one that has a novel twist to it: There is stuff on there you can really use! If you are a JamBands fan who tends to lean toward the finer points of the jazz world, do check these guys out. As for me - maybe I'm just angry, but sometimes I like more of an edge on my music.
"The Redwood Project" - Matt Butler
"in the blue night / frost haze, the sky glows / with the moon / pine
tree tops / bend snow-blue, fade / into sky, frost, starlight. / the creak
of boots. / rabbit tracks, deer tracks, / what do we know." The sound of nature is a spiritual one. Take the man who is overwhelmed in the thirty story skyscrapers, and his heart rate drops. A sense of oneness overwhelms him. Its as if his body has slowed down enough to realize Ralph Waldo Emerson's transcendentalism, an energy that pervades all things, or the Buddhist teaching that all things are of the same fabric. Nature, for the common man, can allow, without zazen, this peace of mind. Of all of nature's scenes, the desolation and vastness of the desert, the volatility of the ocean, the redwoods may be the greatest. Their size alone is overwhelming, towering over all onlookers. A realization of how long it has taken to reach that size becomes a time machine, shuttling you back to times before roads, gas-powered engines and crass populations, squeezed together, their ids removed from them. In this respect the redwoods serve as a scene not only where man can come to an eternal conclusion of himself, but he can also remove those societal constraints, and wander uninhibited.
"I drifted on through the midst of this passionate music and motion,
across many glen, from ridge to ridge; often halting in the lee of a rock
for shelter or to gaze and listen I could distinctively hear the varying
tones of individual trees, - Spruce, and Fir, and Pine and leafless Oakeach
was expressing itself in its own way" Music that whispers in the forests is not a new idea, as the Muir quote makes salient. Although, to create it in a studio and place it on to a CD is inventive, is a difficult undertaking. First, there is this philosophical issue to consider, of nature being read by a laser to get beyond. Once, the mind can break from such pretentious notions, the end result that would emit from your speakers would be Matt Butler's "The Redwood Project". Featuring various instruments, and this smooth, ambient feel, it replicates the spirituality of the towering trees. Each track on the album is named after a special feature of the redwoods; and much to his credit, Butler is able to create through music the sounds that emanate from the vast vegetation of the coastal redwoods. This is a miracle to hear, and proof of its accomplishment is in how well the music seeps into the mind; like it is already part of your body. Never does it knock you over, but it creates this profound sense of warmth, a sun streaking between leaves, a moist ground, a wind sweeping between the trunks, rattling leaves. When the first movement (the album is not made of songs, but rather movements, to achieve a feeling. It is not an album slammed together for profit, but to recreate a special moment) Redwood commences, with two basses keeping time and numerous percussion to create a foundation for some gorgeous lap steel to fly breezily over, it is apparent this is a special project. Redwood, with a dark, brooding bass-line, reminiscent of a classical chamber piece, not only recreates the sound of the redwood, in all its power, but may represent the annihilation of the species, this ephemeral space: a fleeting moment of beauty stolen by the roar of chain saws. Mans relationship with the redwoods is a dualistic one, of respect and a desire to dominate. This becomes clear when Temple begins. It is the other end of the spectrum. If Redwood represents mans underlying greed, then Temple is the other emotion conjured. With more of a major feel, mandolin fills recreating sunrays, and sweeping wind-like guitar chords, this piece recreates all of the pristine beauty of the redwoods. Why man fights to save the redwoods is in Temple as it reflects natures constant grin, despite the worldly desires man strives for with a start of the saw. Probably the most enjoyable and sublime movement on this album is Animals. A far cry from the settlers of our country's first impulses concerning animals, nevertheless there is this connection to the previous piece Temple. A similar style and feel, it shows the interconnectivity between flora and fauna, and the harmony that abounds in the redwoods. Though it remains important to remember that the absence of one will result in the loss of the other. Rhythmically and musically, this piece could be the sister to Diga Rhythm Band's Happiness is Drumming: inspirational music. After Animals, there seems to be some irony at work. Joy in fact does not sound happy, but is closer to the sound of joy felt by a log falling. Consisting of a quicker pace and with a similar sinister bass feel as Redwood, the movement results in a profound sense of isolation. As industrial-strength cotton pockets grow large, the forests cry. As mans joy increases, it is at the trees, the forests and the animals expense. Several pieces later, when the sweepingly gorgeous didgeridoo sounding Fern, the rhythmic and unmanageable Water and the joyous rhythms of Flower are consummated, the movement Spirituality begins. Walking in a Tibetan land, this may be Butler's statement on what can save the redwoods: a realization of the spirituality that is alive in these forests. Consisting of chanting by the venerable Thupten Lama, and a snake charmers horn, this project reaches unfathomable heights. This is no longer just music, or recreating the forests, but goes far beyond into uncerebral frontiers, that description and words will not start to explain: like the unexplainable childish wonder of seeing a brush stroke of ink on paper, representing something and nothing simultaneously. That Spirituality is a statement for man to change the way he thinks becomes bulwarked by Sadness. As Shelley Doty sings "Falling, falling down", this is the end result if man refuses to awaken from his day trading self absorption. It can be construed as pompous, but it is the truth. The redwoods, the water, the ferns, the animals, the flowers, THIS TEMPLE, will all succumb unless there is a change. The change comes from man, in side of himself: to realize the interconnection not between the forest, but with man and nature. (As a side note: A portion of the sales of this CD will be contributed to The Environmental Protection Information Center, to protect the coastal forest ecosystems of Northern California.)
self-titled - Hannaward
Pass The first offering from young up-and-comers Hannaward Pass is a self-titled, self-produced effort with only five tracks on it. Recorded for Ruffel Crowe Records down in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, the album is a very worthy effort for the six-man band's first time out, but leans a little closer to being a demo disc than an actual album one might find in the average music store. There's no shame in that, really, since the five tracks on this CD are original and powerful enough to warrant a second look. Frontman Chris Godfrey's caustic vocals sound eerily like Kevin Kinney, so much so that I had to take a quick look at the liner to make sure he wasn't his younger brother. My gut reaction to the overall sound of this disc was to think that they were sort of a hybrid southern rock band deriving influence from both Drivin' and Cryin' and the Screemin' Cheetah Wheelies. If their vocals sound like the former, their instrumentation and guitar solos are similar to the latter. The first song on the album is appropriately titled Wake. It starts and stops with measured, momentary hesitation between the segments. This is either a product of very tight musicianship on the part of the band or else a little fiddling with the levels in the studio. In any case, Godfrey's vocals come through strong, while Zippy (no last name needed) roams up and down the bass line like a free spirit. Jason Harrelson provides some textured effects on lead guitar and really contributes to the overall energy level. What a Shame starts of with Jay Smith and and Tyler McGuire setting a loose and bouncing rhythm on percussion and drums respectively. Ralph Lusian provides some solid organ lines to support Godfrey's vocals, before the percussion takes over again and the band breaks into an outright jam. That is probably the most redeeming feature of Hannaward Pass. They aren't afraid to lay it on the line in what amounts to less than 30 minutes of total music. Not Again is another tight offering with a solid rhythmic base and well placed if not profound lyrics. The themes on the album and on this song in general are interesting, but not totally unique: dark ballads about "how the other half live" and traveling songs about rogue gamblers and spiritual redemption. Better Days is one such traveling song, driven by a steady snare push from McGuire and some light and airy strumming from Godfrey. Saucy J is the signature song on this album, lasting over nine minutes. This includes plenty of room for the band to explore, so they mix a few premeditated passages with some extended soloing from each musician before breaking down into a long chorus. Overall, "Hannaward Pass" is a solid rookie effort from a young band destined to mature and tackle more ambitious projects in the future.
"Last Night's Wine" - Tunji This five piece band hailing from Austin, Texas is representative of the city's continually rich musical tradition, as evidenced by their unique sound that incorporates elements from musical movements as diverse as traditional jazz and bop, funk (the dominant texture on this album), Afro-Caribbean, rock, and as much as I hate the term, "world music." Melding these varied approaches into a cohesive entity may seem rather difficult, but it apparently comes easy to Tunji, whose debut recording "Last Night's Wine" is an example of just how moving music can be when it transcends imposed artistic boundaries. Their layered rhythmic sound is a function of the musicians' technical jazz training, a deep respect for soul and r&b, and almost conversely, their affinity for straight-ahead jamming. The album's opening track, N.O. By Dawn presents Tunji's tight rhythmic and percussive arrangements, and highlights the instrumental interplay between keyboardist and vocalist Bruce James Bunn, guitarist Joey Amato, bassist Shiben Bhattacharya, and drummers and percussionists Brad Giley and Steve Mitchell. The horn section, added for the purpose of this recording, augment the song's dreamy theme with succinct lines that waft melodically over the slowly paced introduction, and the swirling feedback-wash Amato provides throughout. When the transition to the song's up-tempo coda begins, Bunn comes alive, displaying his soul and gospel influences, which include Ray Charles, James Brown, and Al Green, among others. The next track, Silly Putty is in the same vein as the first, driven by wah-wah guitar undercurrents and horn bursts adding to the music's already thick texture. The solos on this song, by guitar and saxophone, provide a strong feeling that on stage, the band is capable of transforming it, and any other tune on the record, into vehicles for extensive improvisatory jams, supported by the rhythm section which always seems to be right on the mark. The same is true of Lush Life Lane, which includes passages of reggae rhythms juxtaposed with sometimes pounding beats and distortion driven keyboards and guitars. Flipside and Just For Waiting are both nice examples of Tunji's synthesis of traditional rhythm and blues and Caribbean jazz backing, with a strong saxophone solo in the former, and the latter emphasizing Bunn's strengths and potential as a vocalist. Piss Poor Trade Off, the album's centerpiece and longest song, begins with a call to "join us" and a subsequent treat, the percussion and didgeridoo introduction that recalls Captain Beefheart's 1968 recording Trust Us. Eventually settling into an alternately funky and spaced out jam, the song weaves through its ten minute recording time with a final return to the theme upon which it opens: an almost tribal beat that is in stark contrast to the jazz tinged guitar and melodic horn lines that dominate the solos in the middle. The title track Last Night's Wine closes the album in a bittersweet manner, with the emphasis on Bunn's keyboards and vocals, bolstered by an emotive horn section. This album marks a unique step forward for a band that, from my indication (though limited to this CD only), seems immensely capable of progressing past their present state. Certainly Tunji's members have honed their skills in the period of time since "Last Night's Wine" was recorded. If their extensive tour schedule is of any indication, they show great promise due to their seamless blending of musical styles and ability to unite disparate individual talent and tastes in a group format. Co-produced by Phillip Harvey of Medeski Martin and Wood fame, "Last Night's Wine" (clocking in at about 50 minutes), is then a stepping stone for a band hopefully on the rise. My only complaint about the disc (albeit a small one), lies in the mixing, which seems to have homogenized the sound to some degree by eliminating the peaks and valleys that make jam music both invigorating and emotional. This is however, of little consequence in relation to the actual music on the disc, which places such squabbles neatly in the background. ...and you have previously overlooked...
"Mermaid Avenue" - Billy Bragg and Wilco (1998) Since the passing of Jerry Garcia in 1995, there has not been a strong push toward traditional American music in the mainstream, despite the popularity of the co-called Country Core / Americana movement. The existence of this rich heritage has been relatively idle lately, even with the increased popularity of Allison Krauss, Wilco, Son Volt, and the Old 97s. That is why the 1998 album, "Mermaid Avenue", by Billy Bragg and Wilco is such a treat. While it was released some time ago, it has taken a while to trickle throughout the music world, and I have only just recently been blessed with its presence. The purpose of this album is a lofty one, a task that would turn the hair of most modern musicians and songwriters prematurely gray. As the story goes, Nora Guthrie approached Billy Bragg with the ideas of composing music from the lost songs written by her father, Woody Guthrie. These songs were written after his last performance in 1947. To this end, Bragg teamed up with Wilco to create this vehicle for the songs of the pioneer of American Folk Music. >From the liner notes by Billy Bragg, "In her original letter to me, Nora talked of breaking the mould, of working with her father to give his words a new sound and a new context. The result is not a tribute album but a collaboration between Woody Guthrie and a new generation of songwriters who until now had only glimpsed him fleetingly, over the shoulder of Bob Dylan". There are no better candidates for this collaboration than Billy Bragg and Wilco's Jeff Tweedy- both of whom have folk writing styles that are deeply influenced by Woody Guthrie's presence in American music. Bragg claims that his main influence is actually Bob Dylan, so Guthrie's influence is felt second hand. Yet his ability to honestly represent these influences on this album contributes to its strength. >From the first notes of Walt Whitman's Niece, the album's opener, you feel as if you've entered another time. The orchestrations are traditional, with the music meant to support the spirit of the lyrics. The instruments stick mainly with bass, drums, guitar, and piano, with the occasional harmonica, organ, banjo, clavinet, and even bazouki- thrown into the mix. The sounds have a hollowness that is reminiscent of AM radio, yet the songs have a fullness of conscience and soul that have been missing in modern music since the decline of Folk music in the 1970s. The trade off between Bragg, Jeff Tweedy, and Jay Bennett as songwriters is refreshing, as they lend different interpretations to this musical experiment. The presence of Wilco in this project is a logical choice, given their adept ability to create and perform a mixture of modern music and traditional folk and country. Wilco always seems to be straddling the limelight of the modern era with the soft lights of the distant, desert town. This contributes to this album's colliding nature- decades from different times in the century overlapping and clashing- finally settling into a record that could accompany a campfire and candlelit dinner equally well. Natalie Merchant is subtle in her vocal additions on Way over Yonder in the Minor Key. The songs on Mermaid Avenue easily jump between evocative and playful, as the album's progression into Hoodoo Voodoo illustrates. Ingrid Bergman has the haunting feel of looking at old black and white photographs of people long gone but not forgotten. Guthrie's penchant for mixing politics and a sense of humor is present on this album too, especially in Tweedy's treatment of Christ for President. The album returns to the traditional with the extreme accessibility of Hesitating Beauty. There is a beautiful simplicity to this album. Few lyricists in the modern age have been able to compete with Guthrie's ability to make a single word or phrase so profound and biting. This is not an album full of This Land is Your Land. And yet, it should be an American classic nonetheless.
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