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CD
Reviews
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Edited
by Jesse Jarnow
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INDEX TO REVIEWS
"So Many Roads (1965-1995) - the Grateful Dead
"So Many Roads (1965-1995) - Grateful
Dead
I am by nature a morning person. When Seattle's long winters come, I
frequently go to bed by 7 PM. On Monday November 8th though, I found myself
sitting outside of Tower in the rain at 11:59 PM. What could inspire such
devotion? At midnight, "So Many Roads (1965-1995)" would be going on sale.
The Grateful Dead have so much material that presenting a coherent
introduction to a newcomer can be a daunting task. One of my friends got
"Hundred Year Hall", another got "Reckoning", and a third got a CD I titled
"The Decline and Fall of Brent Mydland". While all of those served their
purpose, my friends got skewed images of the band. What I was hoping for with
this project was a form of one stop shopping. The next time someone asked me
what the Grateful Dead were like, I could point them to a CD.
The first thing that stands out with this package is what's missing. There's
no St. Stephen. There's no Uncle John's Band. There's no
Truckin'. The hit single that caused the huge influx of fans to enter
the scene in the late 80's is not represented. The peak year of the Grateful
Dead's rock and roll period - 1977 - is not represented. Another year favored
by Deadhead - 1972 - only has one song present,
and Sing Me Back Home is not the freeform jazz jam that made that
year so popular. Room is somehow found for "Believe it or Not" and
Gentlemen, Start Your Engineswhich were played a combined total of
nine times. This is a product by die hards for die hards.
The first CD shows off primal Grateful Dead music. All sorts of paths
could have been taken at this point. What would the Grateful Dead
sound like if they were a 60's pop band? Listen to Can't Come Down
or You Don't Have To Ask. Want to know how Caution (Do Not Stop on
the Tracks) would sound as a three minute driving song or how Jerry would
sing "On the Road Again" or what a really fast "I Know You Rider"
would sound like? The answers are all here. This CD is closest to
being a straight rarities disc. Every song is either rare
(Clementine, Mason's Children) or has an unusual arrangement
(in addition to the above mentioned songs, Dark Star and China
Cat
are incredibly fast.) or somehow is out of the ordinary. Other than
the Dark Star > China Cat > The Eleven, this is easily the worst
of the five CDs. The songs are historically interesting, but they
mainly serve to show why certain paths were not taken.
If the first CD is the worst of the five, CD two might be the best. I am
admittedly partial towards that period; I have been known to say,
"There is only one real jamband - the early 70's Grateful Dead."
Starting off with a nice That's It For the Other One, this CD
explores the improvisational side of the Dead. Other than a brief mid
disc interlude for Chinatown Shuffle and the 8/27/72 Sing Me Back
Home, this is a jam heavy cd. There is a 33 minute period at the
end of the disc (until US Blues starts) that is vocal free. The
selections on this CD are both historically and musically important,
giving a good sense to the newcomer of what the jazz era of the Dead
was like without choosing selections that would bore someone with a
strong collection.
If disc one was the one most obviously aimed at the rarities crowd, the
third CD is the example of the attempt to give an overview to the
newcomer. The songs on it - Eyes of the World, The Wheel, Stella Blue,
Estimated Prophet, The Music Never Stopped,
and Shakedown Street are all major players; there is no Gentlemen,
Start Your Engines or Whiskey in the Jar here. This is the CD to
give to someone who knows nothing about the Dead and is curious. If
that is the goal of this disc, some of the song selection is quite
curious. While the versions of Eyes and The Wheel are hard to
argue with, the Stella Blue wouldn't be in anyone's top 10 version
list. Assuming that Cornell is not going to be a Dicks Picks, this
would have been the perfect spot for the 5/8/77 Morning Dew.
Estimated Prophet has a similar problems. It's not like these
versions are bad per se, but there seems to be no reason why these
versions were chosen over any other. While the late 70's have been
mined for many Dick's Picks, there still are many nuggets out there
that haven't been released. Representing the early 1980's a strong
Music Never Stopped and an extremely hot Shakedown Street finish
off the disc in style. With one or two replacements (Cornell Dew
for the Stella, the 10/27/79 Franklin's Tower for the
Estimated), this could have been the perfect cd. As it is though,
it's not bad.
While I suspect that CD three was the one designed for the newcomers, the
fourth disc is much better suited for that purpose. There is some
amazing music on this disc. Other than the slight misstep of
including the tedious Believe it or Not, this is a great summary of
what the Grateful Dead were playing in the late 80's and early 90's...
well if you ignore the off nights. The Scarlet >Fire sizzles with
energy. The Playin' sounds like a 1972 version at times, with the
spacey jamming and the reprise being contained in the body of the
song. As if having those two songs weren't enough, the companion
piece to the "Without a Net" Eyes of the World is included -
the Bird Song with Branford Marsalis. I expect this CD to have
heavy rotation at my house.
If each cd is supposed to reflect the period from which the songs are
drawn from, the fifth CD achieves that goal perfectly. There are
flashes of musical brilliance- the Jam out of Foolish Heart in five
minutes can explain why we all traveled around the country to see the
band play. Mainly being a conversation between Bruce and Jerry, the
sense of a band being recreated in the wake of tragedy is powerful and
celebratory. The Terrapin Station is perhaps the best version yet
released by the Dead. All was not perfect those days though. The
presence of Way to Go Home is appropriate as it was played seemingly
every night and appreciated a lot less than that. Most interesting
are the studio tracks. The sense of "What if" that comes up so
frequently when thinking about 1990's Grateful Dead, is there. Would
these songs be the beginning of an album? Would they rework them some
more? Would Eternity or Days Between become a hit? We would
never know.
The final song on "So Many Roads" is, appropriately enough, the
title track. Taken from the very last Grateful Dead concert ever,
Jerry shows inventiveness and enthusiasm. Even at the very end,
the magic still existed. Maybe it didn't at every moment, and maybe
it doesn't in every moment in "So Many Roads", but when it does
shine there's nothing better in the world.
"Fatboy" - moe.
"Fatboy", originally released in 1992, marks the beginning of time for those
that follow moe. Only a handful of fairly bizarre live tapes and odd 4-track
recordings exist that predate this effort. This recording is from a time when
the band was just beginning to crawl out of the primordial ooze that was
Buffalo, New York. They hadn't even blasted through five drummers yet, in
fact they were still with #1, Ray Schwartz (whom they are on a quest for at
this very moment). Al Schnier was brand new to the group as well, only
joining earlier that year to add a second guitar to the lineup. Things were
starting to gel into something very special and this disc is an excellent way
to gauge just how far they've come. This album is chalk full of the
classics... many of the tunes are still around today and some are consistently
yelled for at nearly every show, despite not being played for years. Now
"Fatboy" has been re-mastered and re-released in 1999 with all new artwork.
The album starts off with one of my all time favorite moe. tunes,
Y.O.Y.. This has been a staple song in the moe. repertoire the whole
way, a lot of songs come and go but this one's always been around. This tune
really defines who moe. is, it's poppy but in a different way then what MTV
will play. The thing that really makes it moe. is the way it spans a few
different styles within a fairly short amount of time. That's what sets moe.
apart, the way they glide between so many different styles with such ease.
Y.O.Y. starts with a Middle Eastern flavor and moves from there into a
hard rocker before settling down into some funk and then back to a Middle
Eastern feel. To make this tune even better, it's one of the seemingly rare
songs that Chuck sings, that's an added bonus in my book.
The second track on the album is the one that I spoke about in the beginning.
Long Island Girls Rule is a tune that everyone loves yet they don't
play it live anymore. Since the break-outs of San Ber'dino last New
Year's Eve and Farmer Ben on this tour, Long Island Girls Rule
has become the number one song yelled from the audience at moe. shows. The
album version is nice, the track actually starts off with a short version of
the traditional Havah Negilah before sliding into Long Island Girls
Rule. This tune is really bass driven with some funky licks from all
members. Rob belts out the almost indecipherable lyrics about a young lass
from Long Island who won't admit it... hmmm... I've been told by a fairly
reputable lad from Long Island that the girls there do indeed rule... I think
you get the idea.
Another funky tune comes next with more indecipherable vocals from Rob, I
guess that's another thing moe. is known for... what the hell are they saying?
Dr. Graffenberg is another tune that really drives the crowd wild and
is still a permanent fixture in the moe. repertoire today. This is the
earliest recording by moe. that you can really see how much of a bad ass Rob
really is on that bass of his... the dude is just slap happy. Like the second
track this is another one full of references to the lady folk, complete with
pleasurable moans.
Flo, whoever she is, is definitely not someone that should be messed with.
The band tries to warn everyone to stay out of her way with the next track,
Don't Fuck With Flo. For a jazzy tune this one is sure a rocker, once
again proving how apt moe. is to breaking down the barriers between several
genres. They funk this one out pretty hard as well.
Yodelittle is moe.'s ultimate spacey song. Live this one is possibly
the bands most psychedelic song, but the studio versions (yes, it's also on
"HeadSeed") don't quite match the psychedelic proportions of a live one, but
studio songs rarely do. My ears actually prefer the "HeadSeed" version to the
one on this album, but that's probably because of a little maturity within the
band's music. It's still a fine example of what they are capable of.
Spine Of A Dog is the other "Fatboy" track that is found on another
album, it's also on "No Doy". The big difference between this version and the
"No Doy" version is the intro. They don't do the "You say potato..." line a
cappella in the intro. Instead, they sing the "I am a pinball machine" during
the intro music section. It's not a huge difference but it's noticeable to
me. The other noticeable difference is Rob's reciting of a poem or some other
weird verse in the background before the final lyrical segment. This song
hasn't changed much overtime although these days the live version is seeing a
bit more of a jam develop. This is a solid and fun track to take in.
Sensory Deprivation Bank starts out with a clip from a movie, I'm not
sure what movie but it adds an interesting feel to this song before the music
kicks in midway through it. This is a funky/bluesy/rocker of a tune and is a
definite crowd pleaser at shows. The disc ends with a song that hasn't been
played by moe. in a few years The Battle Of Benny Hill. It's another
traditional song that moe. gave their own twist. It's a fun and unexpected
way to round out this fine album.
All in all, if you're into moe. you should definitely pick up this album.
It's an exceptional look into the past of what moe. once was and shows how far
they've come this decade. It's never sounded this good, so do yourself a
favor and pick it up.
"Live" - the Greyboy
Allstars
When I tossed The Greyboy Allstars' latest effort into my CD player, I
didn't really know what to expect. Admittedly, even though I claim to be
into music, I will be the first to say that I'm often pretty
out-of-the-know, as far as life outside my little internal universe.
However, when I do step out, and into the usual corridors of my engagement
(the hallowed halls of Music and Sound), I kick myself for having slacked
for so long.
The band's third effort is a feisty amalgam of live tracks, hence the
simple moniker, "LIVE." And it surely is. There's the creamy rising hoot
and holler of the audience when The Greyboys complete a rousing foray into
super-tight, hip-jiggling, straight-ahead funky jazz. The production
is also second-to-none, with grunts and approvals of band and
onlookers alike scintillatingly audible.
There were moments early on in the CD, however, when the so near-flawless
energy and aim of the improvisations caused me to think it was all
destined to get a little generic. But just as the thought got a chance to
gestate, something eyebrow-elevating would occur. Drummer Zak Najor would
bring it all down with spacious pause and a fast, quirky twitter of
percussion, and the groove would begin anew. An errant squall of
fluttering bass from Chris Stillwell would befall me, and I'd be back up
for the next round.
The CD features colorful hybrid morsels of sassy, old-school 60's-style
swingin' poppy jazz, big-band-esque bombast, and pensive acid-jazzy
ruminations. Highlighted by the clear, confident hipness of saxophonist
and flautist Karl Denson, trills, spills and splashy shrills coat the
swagger of the songs. The band jump and jive their way through
six amazingly fun original tunes like Freshman 10 and Happy
Friends.
They also give props to four other classics by world-weary jazz greats,
like Lou Donaldson's Hot Dog, and some new-school innovations by the
likes of Texas tenor sax-man, David "Fathead" Newman.
As I mentioned, the band achieve a near-perfect synergy throughout the
majority of the CD's ten songs, with loose yet studied keyboard palpations
by Robert Walter weaving through the swank, chatty workings of guitarist,
Elgin Park. By the CD's seventh track, the gleefully officious Curtis
Mayfield tune, Check Out Your Mind, I was convinced that The Greyboy
Allstars were well worthy of the chorus of sold-out cheers which pepper
the silence following the group's lively exhortations. Listening to the CD
for the first time on my way into dreamland, I closed my eyes and once
again, thanked the musicians of the world for checking the past and
present, and keeping the future strictly alive.
"Dick's Picks XIV" - the Grateful
Dead
The Deadheads at the Boston Music Hall on November 30th, 1973 were kept
waiting for three hours past the scheduled start time before a note of music
was played. How better, then, could the Dead, nearing the end of one of their
finest years of performances, apologize to the frustrated crowd than by
opening their three-night stand with a beautiful Morning Dew? As the
first disc of Dick's Picks 14 begins to spin you can hear the joyful
release
of the crowd, the portentous opening chord of one of the Dead's best-loved
tunes ringing through the theater. Then Jerry begins singing, and the roar
fades to silence, the audience gratefully soaking up every word. The
Dew that unfolds is relatively sedate, but excellent, choosing to focus
more on melody than energy. When the time is right it rolls inevitably into
its finale, a perfect reminder to the crowd of why they waited around so long.
When the final note has faded the band takes a moment to don their musical
cowboy hats, then turn to more typical first set fare, kick-starting
Mexicali Blues. Most of the remainder of the disk mines the same
southwestern vein- an old, gray Dire Wolf lumbers through a remote
Texas roadhouse late on an August night; Bob, a storyteller in top form,
delivers a great Black-Throated Wind; an exuberant Don't Ease Me
In gets the audience up and line-dancing. Then, subtly, as Big
River goes over the falls, the unique, jazzy, psychedelic conglomeration
known as the '73 Grateful Dead slip out from behind the country band that
had
replaced them and take their rightful place in command of the BMH. A
bouncing, joyous They Love Each Other cleanses the listener's
palate,
and they return promptly to the free exploration begun in Dew with a
long Playin in the Band to close out the set. This version, like any
from the period, flies far from Earth, sparking with atonal electricity, takes
up residence in a distant galaxy, and, only after thoroughly cleansing the
listener's ears and mind, softly lands back at home again. Like the
Dew that opened the set, this Playin is more melodic and relaxed
than most, a nice contrast to the frothing-at-the-mouth version played at
Miami's Jai Alai Fronton two weeks later and preserved on Dick's Picks 1.
The second disk picks up where the first one left off, showcasing why the
music this band made twenty-five years ago is still revered today. It opens
with Here Comes Sunshine, one of the year's defining tunes, the
band
inseparably locked together as they interpret some of Hunter's most
impressionistic lyrics, set to some of Garcia's most elegant music. A
gorgeous Weather Report Suite follows, the ending of which drops like a
cannonball off the Leaning Tower of Pisa into a fully-formed Dark Star
jam and flies off low over some of the star's less-visited regions. After
a
vivid glimpse of its surface the band begins to break free of Dark
Star's gravity, and the music slowly spreads out until the moment they
are
hurled off into cold, quiet space. Gradually the sound fades, red shift
stretching it slower and deeper, and, just as the nearest light grows dim,
Jerry, not willing to let music escape the night unplayed, starts strumming
out an up-tempo Eyes of the World.
After an inspired reading of the tune itself the band is creeping like a
nuclear sub through the deep jazz waters of its outro jam, moving further and
further from the tonic chord. Only when the tension has become unbearable do
they emerge abruptly in the stormy 7/8 breaks so essential to versions from
this period. And, of course, they navigate the typhoon effortlessly and soon
are off into uncharted waters beyond, the wind at their backs. When they
finally dock, more than 19 minutes have passed since they began Eyes
and 45 since last there had been a break in the music. A raucous Sugar
Magnolia closes out the show, and the crowd flows out into the very
late night.
The third disk picks up two nights later with some of the final show's
first
set highlights. It opens with a wonderful Cold Rain and Snow, and
moves through fine renditions of Brown-Eyed Women, Jack Straw
and Ramble On Rose before the band lets loose the improv monster that
lies, barely restrained, in wait. But it breaks its shackles soon enough,
when Bobby chooses to follow Ramble with another Weather Report
Suite. This version is slower than its sister from two nights earlier,
but the closing jam is no less kinetic and free. It collapses gracefully as
it nears its conclusion, its remnants tumbling into harmonic resolution as
though they had no choice, and the band takes its setbreak.
As soon as the sound has faded, it fades back up, and after a little banter
the second set opens with a soaring, glorious Wharf Rat. In true
'73
second set fashion, the moment Garcia has finished singing the monster, now
loose, grabs the band by the collar and leads them, running and shouting,
through the corridors of the Music Hall. Before the jam loses any of its
momentum Jerry pulls a sudden, smooth turnaround, and the band lands squarely
in Mississippi Half-Step. The short, superb "Half-Step" serves as
a
breather, the CD changes and the Grateful Dead are off and running again.
Disk 4 begins with another Playin in the Band rising from
Half-Step's ashes, the goofy 10/4 ode to rock 'n' roll grinning in
anticipation of the jamming that will soon devour it from within. Three
minutes later we're drifting languidly, the sun hot above, the air
completely
still. The Dead paddle, somehow sideways rather than forward, searching for
the wind they need to make it to shore. The sky turns dark, and they're
battling to stay afloat as waves of feedback beat higher and higher. The
track number on the CD player changes from 1 to 2, and everything is swallowed
whole into the murky deep.
Dick labels track 2 simply as "Jam." The first 8 minutes are loud,
terrifying
squeals and squelches, picks scraping strings, blazing distorted chromatic
runs writhing high above the 12th fret, sounds I cannot explain. The monster
does not want to play anymore, and he's batting around band and audience
both
like a kitten with a ball of string. But he is fickle, and soon he's had
his
fill. Less than 10 seconds later the unholy noise turns 180 degrees into
Mind Left Body.
MLB, apparently relieved to have made it out alive, forsakes ponderous
and mellow for a good time, sounding more like US Blues than Dark
Star. When the mind has returned to the body they stop on a dime, and
He's Gone steps out softly.
They play quietly, remembering Pigpen, and in the end believing that
there's
"nothing left to do but smile, smile, smile." A shy, sweet guitar solo
weaves
cautiously from the tune's end, not wanting to overstate its case. When
it
has said its peace they pause for the briefest moment, and Truckin
drops like a piano from the sky.
Slower than usual, they make their way through the tune. The jam, perhaps
unable to forget their lost friend, forsakes the usual guitar pyrotechnics and
heads straight into a sad musical place descended from the Playin that
came before. Nobody's Fault But Mine teases float by, as they
usually
do in versions from this period. A little steam is gathered, they toy with
the blues, and leave it behind in Houston, on the way to New Orleans.
When the Truckin is done for the night the music comes to rest in
perhaps the only appropriate place: the peaceful, spiritual reflection of
Stella Blue. When she, too, has sung her last they rest and collect
their breath, having just completed a suite of music over 70 minutes long.
And to conclude the run, one of the last times they would play a small room in
Boston, they choose the same song they chose to begin: Morning Dew.
One can tell from the intro that this version will be everything the
30th's
was not: dramatic, solemn and grand. The verses unroll slowly, no detail
spared. The jam is serene at first, flying high above the clouds. The
intensity increases as they drop in altitude, the target in sight. Phil bombs
char the landscape. The music becomes a symphony of explosions in slow
motion, viewed from far above. With a flash of white light the story
ends- "I
guess it doesn't matter anyway." We the listeners are left, as always, to
finish the story for ourselves.
self-titled - Mother McCree's Uptown Jug Champions
The roots of the Dead: the Dead Sea Scrolls of the band that people followed
around for thirty years. Until this release, fans of the Grateful Dead had
rarely heard the band's early Jug Band incarnation. Which makes this
release
essential for fans of the Grateful Dead, as well as fans of Jug Band music.
As most readers know the story, Jerry Garcia was waiting for a banjo student
(who failed to show up), when Bob Weir walked by. The two began to play, and
eventually formed, with Pigpen and several others, Mother McCree's Uptown
Jug Champions.
Those unaware of Jug Band music should rent the seasonal classic "Emmitt the
Otter's Jug Band Christmas" or listen to Jim Kweskin's Jug Band (which Bob
Weir admits that most of Mother McCree's songs were stolen from Jim Kweskin
78s). This may read like a joke, but in reality, it will give the listener
an understanding of what to expect with this CD (and the children in your
life a bit of joy).
Which is a misnomer in reality, what to expect is the unexpected. People
playing kazoos, washboard, thumbing on a washtub bass, banjos, guitars and
scratchy voices all mixing in a swirling whole of chaos. Imagine your home
during the holidays, loud and noisy, and this may be the equivalent. This CD
is in no way like "Old and in the Way", for those thinking this album was
Garcia's bluegrass jaunt from 1964. Hardly, this is good old-fashioned Jug
Band/Ragtime/Folk-raise-a-ruckus music.
Tracks that are familiar to almost all Grateful Dead fans like,
Memphis, The Monkey and the Engineer, On the Road
Again, Beat it on Down the Line; in the hands of this anarchistic
sextet, become crazed and energetic. All bare little resemblance to the
Dead's versions, yet they stand on their own two, infantile feet. There is
little cohesiveness, the ensemble playing as six people rather than one,
something the Dead rarely did in its tenure. Still, it is amazing to here
music this humorous, exciting, refreshing and different: and at times
downright immature. If there is one thing this album is not, it is stuffy.
One example of this candor is Boo Break where Garcia tells the crowd
to "boo" their playing now and get it all out of their system. A totally
different stage demeanor to that which the Dead often exhibited (for an apt
comparison, listen to their cries to the crowd from 5/2/70 at Harpur
College) at the peak of their success.
Vocally, Garcia and the rest aren't all that great. Garcia's finest vocal
moment is Chuck Berry's Memphis, while Pigpen adds some nice blues
styling
on My Gal. Still, it is pale in comparison to what followed two years
later, when "Warlocks" became "Grateful Dead".
So the question then becomes, why own this archaic CD? Everything seems to
be negative: the vocals are poor, the quality mediocre and the music
chaotic. The answer lies in the Dead Sea Scrolls comment. To know the roots
of the Grateful Dead is to know them. To know where it all began is to know
how it became what it eventually yielded, 30 years of music with folk
undertones. As a bonus, there is a short interview with the band about their
music and playing, where Garcia makes some intriguing comments; making the
CD essential for the collector quotient. Besides, when it is all said and
done, who wouldn't want to hear Bob Weir and Jerry Garcia playing a kazoo
and jug?
"Retrograss" - David Grisman, John Hartford, Mike Seeger
According to the liner notes of David Grisman, John Hartford, and Mike
Seeger's album "Retrograss," Bill Monroe once told Seeger, "Don't forget the
old times." This disc definitely maintains this sentiment, complete with
all-acoustic arrangements of older songs from various genres. It is even
complete with a record-crackling sound that comes through almost
authentically even on a crystal-clear CD player.
The opening track, My Walking Shoes begins the disc with the
aforementioned vinyl-sounding crackling and starts in with the laid-back
feel that the album maintains for the rest of its duration. The general
theme of this album, aside from paying homage to musical greats ranging from
Otis Redding to the Beatles to Bill Monroe, seems to be relaxed and
carefree. Hound Dawg follows the opening track, and gives a whole new
flavor to the Big Mama Thorton-turned-Elvis Presley hit. The liner notes
mention that this version is "given a complete old-time underhaul" in
efforts to set the mood of a "calmer, simpler time." And calm it is. I had
to question what exactly it was about Hound Dog that needs to be tamed -
that always was part of its charm, right?
Following that is a rendition of Bob Dylan's Maggie's Farm, a tune
appropriately chosen for an album such as this. Seeger performs the song
solo, including only vocals and banjo, leaving the track relatively sparse
in comparison to Dylan's original version. In general, I firmly believe
that the best way to listen to cover songs is to listen for the new flavor
the artist adds, but it is sometimes impossible to separate a new version
from an original without necessary comparisons. Seeger's vocals seem
lifeless next to the raw frustration Dylan exudes on the original version.
This tendency on "Retrograss" is not exclusive to tunes outside of the
bluegrass realm. Even standard bluegrass songs are given a new sentiment on
this album, which is commendable in and of itself (how many times have we
all heard Rocky Top? - change can be good.) But with tracks like
The Old
Home Place, the laid-back feel of the disc starts to become tiresome.
The Old Home Place is slower on this album that I've ever heard it.
Taking the tempo down a bit draws more attention to the incredibly
depressing lyrics, which I never thought about as much as I did after
hearing this version. (That made me feel guilty - how could I have been
listening to this song for years and not felt even a tiny bit sad at the
line, "I lost my love, I lost my home/And now I wish that I was dead"?)
Bill Monroe's Uncle Pen, Jerusalem Ridge, and Rocky Road
Blues are
sprinkled throughout the album, providing an even mix of pop songs and
bluegrass songs. Uncle Pen is slowed, too, like The Old Home
Place, but
is one of the most authentic-sounding cuts on the album, due to the
three-part harmony and the warm sound of Hartford's fiddle. The trio's
arrangement of Jerusalem Ridge is one of the more interesting
re-workings
on the album, in that the original was in A minor, and this version is in A
major. These sorts of changes are what makes this album interesting and
creative - the group's ability to maintain their own style while still
offering a nod to their influences.
Perhaps the most daring endeavors on the album are bluegrass renditions of
Chuck Berry's Maybelline, Otis Redding's Sittin' On the Dock of the
Bay,
and the Beatles' When I'm Sixty-Four. The band notes that the blues
form
of Maybelline lends itself well to the crossing-over of styles. Aside
from the lyrics, this song is almost unrecognizable as a 60's pop tune. The
instrumentation is sparse, featuring quiet banjo fills and Seeger's
consistent backing on the mouth harp. Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay
works well in this genre, again with the sparse banjo and mandolin support
under Hartford's vocals (which feature some high-pitched "yodel-ey-ee-hoo"s
throughout). The album closer, When I'm Sixty-Four is possibly the only
song on the album that is a faster tempo than its original version. The
Beatles' big-band clarinet part is replaced by a Hartford's smooth fiddle,
and each member of the group throws in some vocals and harmonies. The
Beatles are one of the toughest acts to follow up musically, and this
version proves the creativity and integrity that Grisman, Hartford, and
Seeger have. They've made a successfully interesting and entertaining cover
of a song on one of rock's greatest albums ever. And that says a lot.
This trio has certainly made each of these tracks their own, through
instrumental re-workings and new arrangements of older songs.
Unfortunately, the sound is a little too relaxed and could have used a bit
more tightening up in some spots. Their efforts are applaudable in creating
"retrograss," defined on the cover of the album as "Music shifted back in
time." Even though the album lags at times, the song selection is eclectic,
and the musicians prove themselves in terms of playing and arranging.
"Bluegrass Mandolin Extravaganza" - various artists
Blues, jazz, classical, folk and rock are all present in the nebulous form
known as jam music. But with the likes of Leftover Salmon, String Cheese
Incident, Smokin' Grass and other similar bands on the scene, it's
impossible to deny the profound influence that traditional bluegrass has had
on the jamband genre. With a host of bands and musicians influenced heavily
by their record collections and experiences at bluegrass throwdowns around
the country, it's important for neophytes and devotees alike to revisit
the
roots of this particular style of jam. The brainchild of 3rd generation
picker Ronnie McCoury and "dawg" master/jam fiend David Grisman,
"Bluegrass
Mandolin Extravaganza" does just that with flair and perfection.
"Bluegrass Mandolin Extravaganza" is a two disc, 34 song set that takes
you on
a nearly two hour living tour of the roots of mandolin-based bluegrass and
its logical extensions into the late 20th century. Old school veterans
Jesse McReynolds (who recorded with the Doors in 1969), Bobby Osborne, Frank
Wakefield and Buck White join "youngsters" Grisman, McCoury, country music
star Ricky Skaggs, and "newgrass" founder Sam Bush on mandolin with
bluegrass legend Del McCoury providing rhythm guitar. Recorded over a four
day period in early 1998 in Nashville, this disc (co-produced by Ronnie
McCoury and David Grisman for Dawg Productions and released on Acoustic
Disc), is literally a must for jamgrass fans.
Stripped bare to the strings, these slick pickers pay special homage to
bluegrass mandolin father Bill Monroe and his Blue Grass Boys (which
included legends Earl Flatt and Lester Scruggs) with nine arrangements of
his classics, including the scorching Roanoke and a double dose of
Blue Moon of Kentucky. Using combinations of one, two, three or eight
mandolins with or without guitar they masterfully traverse the various
styles: from traditional gospel (Wayfaring Stranger), fiddle tunes
(Cattle in the Cane), and waltzes (Westphalia Waltz), to new
interpretations of their own originals (McReynolds' cross-picking The
Cakewalk, White's One Legged Man, < I>McCoury Blues), and
bluegrass standards like Cumberland Gap and I Wonder Where You Are
Tonight?.
While this is probably not a set you'll spin for your Saturday night party
crowd, the sheer instrumental mastery and diversity of this collection
warrant a lot of listening on the porch or in the office. This superior
recording, interspersed with descriptions and commentary from the pickers
themselves on the disc, boasts an excellent set of liner notes complete with
biographies, history, pictures and musings. This is one that belongs in your
roots collection right between the Robert Johnson and Hank Williams box
sets.
"I'm Beginning To See The Light" - Acoustic Jazz Quartet
The latest release from Acoustic Disc (David Grisman's self-made
label) is from the Acoustic Jazz Quartet of Martin Taylor, David Grisman,
George Marsh
and Jim Kerwin. Aptly titled "I'm Beginning To See The Light," this
inspired release features many classic jazz standards, superbly executed in
the acoustic form.
If you are unfamiliar with the label, Acoustic Disc is the brainchild of
mandolin great, David Grisman. Acoustic Disc's mission statement is
"Dedicated to the preservation and artistry of acoustic music, musicians
and
instruments," and is the loving force behind the release of some of the
most
beautiful acoustic music recorded. Aside from this CD, if I had to make any
other recommendations on this label, it would be to get your hands on any of
the four samplers that have been put together from the various titles
available. They not only make for great varied listening, but they also
give you one or more samples of what you can procure for your own archives.
I swear I'm not getting any kickbacks from Acoustic Disc either, I'm just
a
big fan of tastefully orchestrated music. I am, however, open to gratuities
if Mr. Grisman is reading this!
From the beginning, with the title track I'm Beginning To See
The Light, this CD has soul. There is a feeling to the music that can
only come from performers who are genuinely excited to be playing with each
other. They feed off of each other in a way that blends them together as
one animal. As much as they are all accomplished artists on their respected
instruments, there is no instrument like that of a group of fine musicians
playing as one. When Grisman settles in with a laid back rhythm for Martin
Taylor to weave his tapestry over, a colorful background is formed. One
that can support, and withstand, the masterful detail that is emotes from
Taylor's guitar playing. Grisman is no slouch either! These guys play
off
of each other like Abbot and Costello doing "Who's on First?," always a
perfect compliment and trade-off.
Martin Taylor comes off as the master of this CD, overall. With such
pieces as Autumn Leaves and Exactly Like You, I was
thrown with how an accomplished artist can make you think and feel so much
without all of the flash and speed that is so prevalent in guitarists today.
That is not to say that there aren't other talented musicians here. Jim
Kerwin gets to show us quite a bit of what he is capable of during
Exactly Like You as he saws away on the bass in fluid precision.
Keeping perfect time throughout all is George Marsh. This Grisman Quintet
alumnus has an uncanny knack for percussion; feeling his way through each
song with the appropriate sound, rhythm and style. He does so on such a
level that I hardly realize that it is his reports that have me anchored to
the groove as the rest soar the horizons.
I found it intimidating reviewing one of my own idols, which David Grisman
certainly is, so much so that I saved him for last. He is not only an
excellent and almost flawless performer, but also a brilliant musical mind
that attracts those who seek the same. His various ensembles have contained
some of the most amazing talents, none of which seem give in to the glitz
and hype that goes along with so much of today's styles. Just hearing
their
rendition of Makin' Whoopee seems to drive this point home.
For those of you who have heard or possess Grisman's release with Stephane
Grappelli will be happy to know that this release is done with much the same
spirit. If you haven't heard it, there is another one you should get.
Smooth and soulful, Grisman has achieved another stellar release.
This soft emotional style may not be for everyone. But those who do
enjoy it are
certain to love it.
"State Songs" - John Linnell
This review only really needs to be one sentence long: State Songs is a solo
album by John "The One With the Accordion" Linnell of They Might Be
Giants,
and it consists of songs titled after 15 of the 50 states. Most of you can
probably already decide for yourselves whether you want to spend your
money on this.
Very little music polarizes people as much as They Might Be Giants. You
either find them to be gifted songwriters, witty lyricists and sly arrangers,
or a couple of unbelievable dorks still somehow making their stupid music
after 15 years. Kind of like Phish, I guess. It took me awhile to catch on,
but nowadays I fall in the first camp, and I've learned the hard way that
to
put them on in a room of unfamiliar people is to risk sudden, brutal beating.
If there's anyone out there who can't imagine what State Songs sounds
like, I
don't think I can give it an adequate description in words. Instead,
picture
the following verse, set to a solemn, patriotic ballad reminiscent of
Taps, accompanied only by baritone horn and piano:
Linnell at the top of his game. TMBG fans will not be disappointed.
"Nonkertompf" - Mike Keneally
I was scared to death of this album when I first unwrapped the album and
read through
the press kit. Anyone familiar with Keneally, best known as one of Frank
Zappa's
"stunt guitarists" from the '80s, will probably understand what I'm talking
about.
Mike Keneally falls directly into the stereotype of the most brilliant and
talented
musicians being the ones that are the most fucked up in the head, but
definitely in
a good way. There was a lot of warning (including a special warning letter
from
Keneally himself) about people feeling very strongly about his music one way
or the
other, and how much he liked bringing out that much emotion, whether good or
bad,
in people who listened to his music. He certainly accomplished that.
The virtuoso keyboard/guitar player, who plays all of the instruments on the
album,
will proceed to drag you by the ear for 73 minutes and 56 seconds (thus
stretching
the limits of CD capacity as well as composition itself) through 35
'chapters', starting
from the dissonant crescendo of What are you doing, then spinning
quickly through
disconnected short themes that somehow popped into his head, such as
Naked Horse,
Blue Jean Baby, Odon, and The blumpy hop. It's hard to describe the
short themes
without listening to the album, since they all have very different styles.
Some of them
serve as lead-ins to the next track, some of them are 30 second stand alone,
er...
songs? There is a limited coherent structure to all of this, I think. If
you listen
hard enough, you can pick out certain recurring themes, and he ties some of
the... song
titles together (although why someone would write so many songs about
paprika, we can
only guess). At times, he completely switches gears and stops on a dime at
perfectly
constructed hybrid pop/new age/progressive compositions, like Click,
Drumsticks, Self
'n' Other, and certain parts of Nine, one of the many tracks that
border on
the plain weird.
Speaking of plain weird, you're sure to find lots of that here. Don't
get me wrong, it's all interesting stuff, and really fun to listen to, but I
fear the
effect it will have on the average non-free-jazz listening jamband fan. I
do hope
that you take that as more of a challenge than a deterrent to giving this
one a try.
There seems to be just enough actual tonal music (kind of like a slot
machine..
intermittent positive reinforcement) to hold one's attention, and it's
really good
stuff (you might find yourself, like I have been, listening to Click
ten or
so times in a row). I find it shocking that someone can write songs like
that without
relying on words to keep the listener's attention, and pull it off once in a
while.
Yes, you read right, there are no words to be found on the entire album.
Who knows,
maybe his voice is not as good as his playing (or even as good as his
average drumming).
The main problem that I have with an album such as this is it seems that
Keneally's
excellent composing skills are almost going to waste on such an abstract
work. I
can only imagine what he would write if he decided to stick to more
traditional
composition for an album or so, which is very sad. Once this thought came
to me, I
could not listen to the album in the same way.
After a few listens of the entire 'piece', it gets clearer and clearer that
Keneally
is genuinely crazy. I'm willing to bet that playing in Zappa's band
distorted his
brain in ways that we can not possibly imagine. There are lots of parallels
between
Nonkertompf and some of Steve Vai's work, especially bringing Fire
Garden
to mind. A definite possibility that Frank opened their heads up and
screwed with some
of the wiring. If you are a fan of that kind of music, you probably already
bought the
album before you read this. If you aren't, then I really have a hard time
trying to
predict what the reactions to it will be. It seems to be some kind of
twisted experiment
to drop something like this on the unsuspecting jam band scene, but these
things are out
of my hands. I would be interested in hearing the results.
"The Kennedy Experience" - Nigel Kennedy
The appearance of this album review on this website is a curious, curious
thing. Nigel Kennedy, long known as a classical violinist has shows us he
can 'cross-over' from that world into . . . into . . . well, where is this
album, anyway? "The Kennedy Experience", a set of six Jimi Hendrix
tunes apparently arranged by Kennedy as encore tunes for his classical
concerts, treads the lines between the jammed, the wanked, the composed,
the arranged, and the referential. He is backed by a band (or is it an
orchestra?) of two cellos, two guitars, dobro, , flute, bass, and oboe.
And yes, he calls them 'The Kennedy Experience.'
As I open the booklet, I am greeted/accosted with the following
words.
If a musician doesn't reach personal and unexpected emotional realms
with his music -- what the fuck is he doing? Here's something personal
inspired by one of this century's most important creators . See you later.
Nigel. Can't really argue with that! I will add, though that these
words appear next to a violin engulfed in (computer) flames against some
ethereally moonlit clouds. I will also add that the text itself is
'illuminated' in a sort of scratchy-gothic-bad-boy-sort-of font. You make
the call.
The first track Third Stone from the Sun starts out with a short
introduction and then we get to the tune. It is a little difficult to
adjust to the sound of a violin playing the melody to this famous song.
Quite honestly, it just sounds silly. As I get to Kennedy's first solo in
this fourteen-minute track, I continue to question his motives. The music
shifts its textures abruptly but gives way to one of the best excerpts of
the album: a soft, repetitive, slowly-growing section. Kennedy plays his
best solo on the album in this spot. For these minutes, the band seems to
be communicating -- there is a brief window of a group dynamic! After this
section, though, and for the bulk of the rest of the album, the songs
resume their jaunty section-changes and plateau-style drama.
The next track is a more traditional cover, Little Wing. This
track
highlights Kennedy's lack of talent as a composer, as it is plagued with
bad decisions. For example, there is the long E minor vamp at the
beginning and end of the track. After the E minor introduction, it stops
cold, and then Kennedy takes us through the melody and begins soloing.
This track also showcases Kennedy's inconsistency as an improviser, as his
solos are noncommunicative, uninteresting and wank-erific.
When 1983 . . . (A Merman I should Turn to Be) begins, I'm really
getting sick of a few things. First, except for the occasional guitar
solo, and the occasional arpeggiation, both guitarists have been strumming
for the whole album. Strum, strum, strum, strum, strum, strum, strum.
Strum. This track begins with some strumming and some outdated and
unimpressive stereo effects. Second, Kennedy's solos (and wind and string
arrangements) are unmoving. At the end of this fifteen-minute track,
though, something peculiar happens: when the melody returns, it is played
by the oboist while Kennedy plays string-skipping semi-virtuoso barriolage
-- but not as accompaniment to the oboe melody! Oh no! Kennedy is pushed
to the front of the mix. Whose is the important voice here? As a
classical violinist, Kennedy is surely familiar with this technique in
concerto writing. A concerto show the soloists skills of commanding a
large-scale piece, but it should also show off the soloist's technical
skills. This passage does the latter (and to a certain extant, the former)
and is perhaps a microcosm of the entire album. How does Kennedy's ego tie
into those 'personal and unexpected emotional realms'? I wonder.
The next two tracks Drifting and Fire are much shorter and
thankfully
do not fall victim to wanking. In fact, there are some rather beautiful
textures which come out of these tunes. If I hadn't heard the first forty
minutes of this album already, I might have genuinely liked these tracks.
It's interesting to speculate what aspects of these songs were composed and
which were improvised. Some group fade-ins and fade-outs made for some
nice moments. Fire is very succinct -- three and a half minutes -- and
is the best at cleanly saying what it wants to say and then shutting up.
The last track is a version of Purple Haze. No doubt aided by the
strumming all-stars, this track sounds like good-ol'-bad jam session. But
who's to say whether Kennedy didn't take himself to new personal and
unexpected emotional realms in recording this track? Or in recording the
rest of the album? From the combative tone of his "dedication," I can't
tell if he expects us to come along with him to these realms. I also can't
tell whom he expects to take with him in the first place. Violinists?
Hendrix fans? Heads? The adaptation of the tunes to the violin is good,
but the music is stupid. The Hendrix tunes are there, but they are
distorted and treated strangely. And the tracks go on long like jams, but
the sections are composed and restricted. It is never essential for the
listener to categorize the genre of a record, but it is important to
recognize the musical languages it speaks so that it can be understood.
Sometimes complete "sentences" in different musical languages can be
combined for a new effect, but these sentences in different musical
languages are each only fragments, confusing everybody.
"Live At Broadway Joe's" - Uncle
Sammy
This CD starts with Uncle Sammy guitarist Max Delaney proclaiming, "We're
gonna open up a tune..." He probably meant to say "with a tune," but this
accident may be a bit cosmic, as with Uncle Sammy any tune can open up into
exploratory territory at any time. The songs often become mere launching
pads for their considerable improvisational acumen. One can't help but
wonder if Steely Dan had a Coltrane-like passion for playing live, would
they have sounded something like this band? Uncle Sammy has worked hard
since their early days as the featured band in the cozy confines of Cape
Cod's, "Beachcomber" club. They've gone from Massachusetts little boys that
could jam, to this month being referred to by The Village Voice's Richard
Gehr as "bright lights steadily ascending the groove horizon."
This debut release is clearly part of the ascension. The band has tossed us
the first 53 minutes of their epic 4 1/2 hour performance at the famous
Buffalo club, Broadway Joe's. At the time, it was considered to be possibly
the best performance the band had given. Hard core Sammy fans tell me that
even though they have topped this show a few times by now, it still is among
their favorites. I think the bookend tracks (Ladybug and M.A.G.)
represent a particularly strong introduction to the recording industry for
this young band. The band also benefits from the knob twisting of Shaggy
Dawg, who is responsible for the rich, lush sound on this disc. I have heard
major releases of bands that have been around for ten years or more that are
inferior to the sound on this release.
The band eases into the first track one member at a time. Drummer Tom Arey
sets the rhythm first. Bassist Brian O'Connell discharges a quick flurry of
bottom, which sets the table for guitarist Delaney's gentle jazzy chop
rhythms. Soon enough, Beau Sasser is playing the signature riff of
Ladybug
on his keys and the recording career of this fiery Boston band is off the
ground. This song tastefully blends the fusion feel that was huge in the 70s
with a savory dose of funk sprinkled in. O'Connell has the ability to throw
in quirky embellishments while still remaining locked in with Arey's
airtight drumming. There is a definite John Scofield feel here. This song
could have appeared on Scofield's "Loud Jazz" album from the 80s or "A
Go-Go" album of the 90s. The way Delaney plays off of Sasser's keys is also
reminiscent of the jazz legend. But when Max dives into his guitar solo, we
begin to get a feel of his own striking tone. Delaney's first solo is a
solid statement, as he starts with smartly held notes before expertly easing
to an incisive guitar line. He passes the baton sweetly to Sasser and then
shifts to rhythm guitar. As O'Connell and Delaney court a rhythm that
gradually becomes more complex, Sasser weaves in and out of them with his
own improvisations. The band is clearly so tight that they can easily tinker
with the song spontaneously, but as Sasser's solo builds, the other three
effortlessly settle into a backing role. One who listens closely will begin
to wonder if they are tinkering with telepathy here. Each member knows just
what to do to make the band's statement strong and unified. Sasser steps up
and starts jangling out some beautiful notes. The band moves through
different sections of the song with stunning ease, with each member stepping
up at just the right moment. For example, Delaney knifes back into the lead
with a tumultuous series of notes. This builds to some tension and release
moments that produce a danceable feel rarely reached by the fusion bands of
the seventies. After a blistering Delaney solo, the band settles into a bit
of gentle ensemble playing, Sasser and O'Connell clearly are enjoying
playing off each other here. Delaney gradually riffs the opening rhythm of
the song a couple of times before Sasser starts playing the song's signature
riff, on which the song closes. This song is such a joy ride it seems much
shorter than the 16 minutes that it is.
The band quickly launches into Ricky Rabbit. This song has a
catchy rhythm
and a delightful hook. Delaney's lead vocal is perfect for this song, and
he
smartly resists the urge to over sing the cryptical lyrics. Beau Sasser's
keyboard drives the song, setting the mood for each section. Sasser also
lends some supple keyboard as a perfect backdrop for Delaney's spoken word
vocal that is the second verse. Delaney's brawny lead guitar is bolstered by
Arey's infusion of rhythmic might. The guitar solo builds to a peak, and the
band resists the urge to go over the top, with Delaney jumping to the
melodic signature riff and leading the band back to the out chorus with
ease.
Recycle Now features a little keyboard riff early in the song that
recalls
Steve Miller's Jet Airliner, before the band dives into this robust
gem of
a tune. It also soothes those with shorter attention spans, as it is less
than four minutes long. The frantic energy and perfectly executed quick
changes of this song seem to underscore the importance of the message of the
song. The tension build-ups would represent the growing need for recycling
in our waste-heavy world. Delaney scorches his parts, and Sasser and
O'Connell climb all over each other like new lovers during one burst of
energy. The band eschews a cryptically lyrical approach to provide a clear
message with the only line of the song; "hey...you....recycle, recycle now
or die!" Radio hosts may want to look into this song, as they pack quite a
punch into 3 plus minutes.
The band wastes no time as they launch into the tune that so often follows
hot on the heels of Recycle Now, the powerful, M.A.G. They
quickly get
into the first verse, "Got to be the greatest make it all so pure, turning
into nothing, gradually obscure. Personal construction, instincts in the
air, spin those wheels around and quickly get no where." The chorus is
anthemic, saluting gravity as they spell it out and sing; "you see that's
gravity." The band then takes a spiraling dive into the great unknown,
exploring the potential of the song. It starts with O'Connell flexing his
bass might with some crafty finger work. Delaney and Sasser create a surreal
backdrop for him before Delaney gradually starts funking it up. Arey
responds to Delaney's riffs, and we go off to a very titillating jam
section. There is one part that reminds me of swimming in the crystal clear
waters of Jamaica, exploring the colorful fish and underwater plant life
with a sense of wonder that sweetly lingers. There is another part where
Delaney's muscular guitar and Sasser's high key tickling over the
constantly
driving and inquiring O'Connell and Arey that just makes me want to crank
the volume up every time. Delaney explores some seductive work low on the
guitar neck while the other players settle into a groove behind him,
reminding me of some of Zappa's work on "Shut Up and Play Your Guitar."
Some
of O'Connell's bass playing is sheer brilliance on this track (Brian's
astuteness on the bass prompted a bass player from a prominent jam band to
intimate to me that he was actually intimidated by O'Connell because he
was
that good). The jam builds back to the body of the song so organically that
the uninitiated might think that it was a composed section. I assure you,
this was composed on the spot, at Broadway Joe's, while they played it.
I've
also been forced by this song to explore the repeat button on my CD player,
as each successive time that I lend and ear to it reveals the depth and
beauty of this piece.
This band is blossoming right now, and a sheer delight to see live. They
should be touring the country in the coming year, and I would highly
recommend checking them out. Their shows are fueled with limitless
creativity offered with swells of energy that have wooed even the most
sedentary. Their backlog of songs
benefits from their dutiful writing and rehearsing schedule. Hopefully they
will see fit to include some of their newer songs (Crystal Metheny
The
Village) or their older ones (Medicine Man New Funk) in
their next
release. It would be nice to hear Beau Sasser sing a song as well,
especially the uplifting, Waiting For Life.
The disc at hand is quite satisfying, and has surprised even some of the
most stringent jam band skeptics. My CD player must be sick of me sticking
this disc in it. Certainly, if you're struggling to find something for that
hard to shop for music freak, this may be just the gift to procure.
"Realms" - Jamie
Janover
At times the old adage, "you can't tell a book by its cover", is faulty
advice. For example, numerous CDs come to mind, which the artwork
perpetuates the sonic wanderings found on the disc. One such example is
Miles Davis' "Agharta". No one in his or her right mind looking at that
artwork would believe it to would be acoustic styled bebop. True to its
appearance, "Agharta" swirls with psychedelic, electric fusion: music from
other lands and for other minds.
Following this logic, Jamie Janover's cover and artwork yields a
reflection
into the wanderings of the music. First, is the photo on the cover, Janover
lying in a field of flowers, with a strange instrument in front of him.
While the photo is through a fish-eye lens, creating an esoteric 60's
effect, the instrument becomes the more interesting object. To the left, the
words "Hammered Dulcimer" catch our eye. It becomes apparent, this is the
name of the object sitting with Janover. Given the two above, it seems we
can expect music hearkening to the spirit and sounds of the 60's with an
instrument unfamiliar to most listeners.
Which is just about the most succinct summary available. Janover, with the
aid of friends: Tye North, Michael Travis, Darol Anger, Jon Fishman, the
Jazz Mandolin Project; Janover tackles multiple genres, his enigmatic
instrument in front and center, with remarkable aplomb.
As for the title, "Realms", Webster's Dictionary defines the word realms:
a
kingdom, region or sphere. Therefore it seems that applying this name to the
music to come, the listener can expect music from other kingdoms, both
mental and physical. Music which is capable of leading the listener to
sublime ecstasy in foreign dominions.
The first track Third Stone from the Sun is a perfect launch pad into
the other ethereal limits to come. Those familiar to this track, originally
played by Jimi Hendrix on "Are you Experienced", it became an interplanetary
trip, sounding remarkably like space. Is it ironic that Janover uses it for
the first track? Although, it should be noted that Janover's version (with
the Jazz Mandolin Project backing), is more sedated and tranquil than
Hendrix's, but does not lack creativity or ingenuity. Janover's hammered
dulcimer sounds very eastern, with quick sharp striking sounds created by
his hammers, a sound quite indescribable. His playing is stunning, and at
the same times unique sonically.
If Third Stone from the Sun was the start of the trip, then The
Seventh Sea is the interplanetary shuttles stop at a planet with similar
ambience as India. For some reason, this piece, as a whole, sounds like a
raga. Although, the first two minutes consist of Janover bowing his hammered
dulcimer. Once again, it would be ridiculous and implausible to describe the
sound, but merely to appreciate its unique flavor.
On other tracks, Janover makes the instrument sound like a piano (almost
exactly). Jazz tracks like John Coltrane's Alabama and Charles
Mingus' Goodbye Pork Pie Hat, show that if Janover wanted to, he
could play a piano quite well. Both of these tracks exhibit amazing
"pianoesque" chops, ringing similar to Ahmad Jamal. It is the first moment
when the listener realizes how capable this instrument is. Not only does it
create sounds that are unique to the eardrums (That being a discourse in and
of itself. Are the sounds unique? Hardly, according to Norman Bryson. Their
uniqueness may come from the fact that they are outside of molded Western
ears, outside of this small cesspool's notion of sounds) but it can take
the
place of a piano readily. What is also of note is that Janover takes the
regular song structure, and then builds upon that, creating other transitive
lands to cross and conquer. Always displayed is Janover's ability to
improvise, and there are no better exemplars of this then these two tracks.
Of note, for deadheads, is the stellar, chamber styled Dark Star.
While it isn't groundbreaking, it is quite radiant and relaxing.
Sonically,
it seems that Janover transcribed this version from the cherished
"Live/Dead" cut, complete with preceding rumblings, etc. While not as good
as the original, it is nevertheless an amenity.
In the end, the trip becomes a liberating one, breaking the listener out of
the standard mold of jamband electronic excesses. Relaxation and beauty are
to be found on this album, sided with talented sidemen and an assortment of
genres. While the album may not yield too many new thoughts on music (the
album consists of almost all covers), it does exhibit the dexterity of a
given instrument, in the hands of an erudite a player.
Daredevil - The Fat Cats
The Fat Cats are a veteran jamband from the southern portion of the Ontario
province in Canada. Their latest release, "Daredevil" varies a bit from
the current lineup of the band as it adds several players to the core of
three musicians. Todd Gillies on lead guitar and vocals joins Dave Hill on
bass and Joel Stouffer on drums to comprise the basic trio. They are
joined on the record by three more members of the band at that time and
even four more "additional players." The latest news release on
their
website indicates that they are in search of a new
keyboard player and had to suspend an upcoming tour. That is unfortunate,
but not surprising as the musicians that collaborated on "Daredevil" all
possess notable talent, but seem to lack the necessary chemistry to refine
their sound on an advanced level. There is certainly nothing displeasing
to the ear on the album, however there is nothing compelling either. The
band has been committed to the jamband scene north of the border since 1992
and have shared the stage with the likes of Merl Saunders, moe., and JGB,
just to name a few. Their influences also seem to be based in that same
realm, but the finished product is covered with a pop-rock glaze that is
excessively sweet on the tongue.
Waiting for Spring contains flowing melodies and softly spiraling
guitar licks, providing a solid base to start the album. Teaspoon,
the second song on the album, also contains a healthy dose of guitar riffs
accompanied by Jamie Shields on Moog organ. These first two tracks and the
third that follows, are good ways to open the album. Unfortunately, The
Fat Cats don't provide much variety in their songs despite the extra
players they have at their disposal. Steve Adams adds some punchy dobro to
the third track, The Station, and should probably have been used on
some other tracks as well. Katin Kiss adds some "oohs" and "aahs" in the
background, adding a radio friendly feel to the album, but doesn't really
do anything to distinguish herself. Perhaps that's the only effect they
were going for, but it seems like they could have done something creative
with her vocals in certain spots.
The fifth track on the album, Daredevil is most loud and aggressive
track of the lot, if only in comparison with the other eleven. Gillies
uses some distortion effects on his guitar to take a sharper approach to
the lead. The lyrics and vocals themselves are reminiscent of Jimmy Buffet
in both their rhythmic intonations and simple rhymes. Here again, the
background vocals are a bit monotonous and take away from the strengths of
the song. Montana Haze is another song with some strong points,
mostly because of the funky, flowing keyboard work from Tyler Gibson that
belies the current of the song. The guitar lead has a pretty good hook to
it as the instrumental parts mesh the best throughout this track.
Excessive toying with studio effects nearly kills the momentum, but they
manage to save it at the end.
Overall, "Daredevil" has a few bright moments, but lacks enough character
to help it stand out from the pack of up-and-coming jambands jockeying for
position in a competitive musical scene. As is always the case with
musical groups of this type, there is a good chance they express themselves
better live than they do on an album. With this in mind, I still have to
take issue with the last song on their album, You. The chorus of
this song goes "All I wanna do is smoke a little bit of Sensi." So many
different bands before them have expressed their personal feelings toward
getting high so much more eloquently, one can't help but feel like they've
heard it all before.
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