I'd Love to Turn You On #226 - Jonathan Wilson - Gentle Spirit

Once upon a time there was a magical land called Southern California. In the late 1960’s and into the 1970’s a group of musicians inhabited this land and created some of the best sounds of their century. Names like Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Frank Zappa, Brian Wilson, The Byrds, and later The Eagles, Jackson Browne, Bonnie Raitt, Little Feat and even Steely Dan came to embody this shaggy sound and the lifestyles it implied. Like all good things its time came and went, leaving lasting stylistic impressions on both the collective ears and hearts of the listening public. Alas, another movement come and gone. And yet! In 2011, a new name appears on the scene: Jonathan Wilson, a young North Carolinian who made several albums with a group called Muscadine in the late 90’s. Wilson was building a buzz around his analog studio and production skills at his compound in Laurel Canyon (the spiritual home of that SoCal sound that had seemed to pass into history) and released his first album, Gentle Spirit, on the great Bella Union label.

The first time I played Gentle Spirit my jaw hit the floor. Here it was, finally. A completely legitimate and heavenly return to that beautiful California sound. A delirious mix of great songs played by a bunch of amazing modern musicians totally embracing pastoral songwriting, meaningful lyrics and all, wrapped in a gauzy haze of psychedelia and recorded with analog signals burning their way directly into your ears. One can’t really overemphasize the sound of this recording. On LP it is a sublimely warm and satisfying listening experience. The thirteen songs on this album veer between smoky ballads of love and loss and more upbeat rockers. Everything has that appealing California laid-back appeal, with great care being given to vocal performances and the juxtaposition of acoustic instruments and crushing electric guitar. Coiled underneath it all though is a tie-dyed snake that bares its fangs on "Desert Raven," "Natural Rhapsody," and "Woe Is Me" with washes of keyboards, swelling waves of bass and heavenly spiraling guitar lines.

"How can a debut album be so accomplished?" you may be asking yourself. A fair question, and it does seem almost counterintuitive that a relative newcomer could create an album of mature songs with rapturous musical accompaniment and an almost too-good-to-be-true analog sound. That, indeed, is the mystery of Jonathan Wilson. In answer, all that can be said was that in short order after this album was released Wilson was hosting jam sessions with the likes of Tom Petty, Bob Weir, Chris Robinson and David Rawlings among others. His studio and his own production skills have become very in-demand as he assists artists like Father John Misty, Dawes, and Conor Oberst in realizing the sounds in their heads. Then, in the last two years he could be found traveling the world in Roger Waters’ band as the guitar, keyboard and vocal ringer on one of the biggest and most emotionally satisfying tours of the new century. Quietly and unobtrusively, Wilson has woven his way into the modern sound. He is an artist to be reckoned with.

It has been a rocket ride to the top for this guy, and he has produced two more superb solo albums, but, it is Gentle Spirit that brings me back over and over. The guitar tones on songs like "The Way I Feel," "Ballad of the Pines," or "Valley Of The Silver Moon" strike just the right note. Wilson has clearly absorbed the lessons of Hendrix, Pink Floyd and classic Neil Young and melded them together in a crucible of song to produce sturdy pillars of sound. The album loses nothing with repeated listens. In fact it seems to continually unfold, revealing a profound opening musical statement from one of the most promising musicians on the scene today. Do the sounds of cranky digital guitars and endless loops of other people’s samples leaving you cold? Take two Gentle Spirits and call me in the morning.

- Paul Epstein

I’d Love To Turn You On At The Movies #211 - F For Fake (1973, dir. Orson Welles)

Let’s just get this out of the way: Orson Welles was a genius. Settled? Cool.

Alright, maybe you need some more convincing. Maybe you’re not utterly compelled by his work directing, writing, and starring in the likes of Citizen Kane, The Magnificent Ambersons, or even the recently released, long-gestated The Other Side of the Wind. Maybe you need something headier, more philosophical, more experimental. If that’s the case, then I’ve got the perfect film for you: 1973’s essential meditation on art, hubris, and mortality, F For Fake.

You probably have some questions about F For Fake. Namely, what kind of movie is it? That’s a great question! I don’t know the answer. Here at Twist & Shout, we categorize it as a documentary. But it’s also a narrative film, with entire sections fabricated by Welles, and it also functions as an autobiography, an insight into our aging, tired, embittered auteur. (This was, after all, the last film Welles completed before he died, making it hard not to consider it a manifesto.) Most of all though, this is a metatext, a film about filmmaking. Art about art. Cinema about trickery.

Ostensibly, F For Fake is a documentary about the infamous fake artist, Elmyr de Hory, whose forgeries of Picasso, Matisse, and Renoir all landed spots in high-end galleries across the world. But Welles isn’t vindictive toward Elmyr, instead treating his subject with a certain reverie; to Welles, Elmyr represents a fundamental question for the art world - is a forger still an artist? Welles extends that question to Clifford Irving, a biographer that covered Elmyr’s story... who also, it turns out, forged Howard Hughes’s autobiography.

Amid these philosophical questions, Welles gives details of his own experience as an artist; there’s a soft, lyrical sequence in the film that finds our guide reflecting on his youth as an actor in Europe, a position Welles himself conned his way into: “I started at the top, myself,” he tells us, before adding the poignant, soft-spoken joke, “I’ve been working myself down ever since.” Welles - who I called a genius mere minutes ago - contextualizes himself as a fake, too!

But F For Fake highlights Welles as an artist at the height of his creative powers. The documentary footage is shot with all the depth and focus of his narrative films, and the editing of the film somehow manages to juggle all these various narratives with the deft ease of a skilled street magician. Or maybe he’s a pickpocket. A mime? Who’s to say? Throughout the film, you get the feeling that you’re being played, conned, tricked. And you are - but maybe you always have been, Welles suggests, in any movie you’ve ever watched.

            In case you couldn’t tell, it’s hard to talk about the fine details in F For Fake. This is a film that deals in the very abstractions that Picasso’s - or is it Elmyr’s? - work tackles. In case you also couldn’t tell, F For Fake is one of my favorite movies ever made. I’m astounded, consistently, by this film and all of its intricacies and depths and nuances; stunningly shot, Welles’s careful camera placements and focuses simultaneously reinforce and undermine thematic concerns of authorship and authenticity. These broad themes somehow still feel personal and introspective; sitting from the editing bay, Welles muses directly to us, making the showy editing feel like Welles’s own stream-of-consciousness. Watching F For Fake feels like you’re falling down the rabbit hole; at the end, you’re in Welles’s own wonderland.

I cannot understate how much F For Fake fundamentally reshaped how I consume film, art, music, and pop culture. Welles is a charlatan, a trickster, an artist; he’s the very essence of cool in this film. So, let’s reiterate: Orson Welles was a genius. Settled? Cool.

-         Harry Todd

I'd Love to Turn You On #224 - Screaming Trees – Dust (1996)

            Having spent pretty much all my formative years in the 1990s, a big part of my musical upbringing revolved around mainstream radio’s changing of the guard from glam metal to “grunge” (as it was referred to at the time, though it’s pretty much just classic rock nowadays). As a die-hard metal fan all through the ‘80s I resisted this shift at first, but even I was powerless to deny the allure of these incredible bands coming from the Pacific Northwest. Much of it was still extremely heavy, yet it somehow seemed more accessible, more like the garage bands that I was used to playing in. I mean, I loved metal, but let’s face it, nobody that I was playing with at 12 years old was going to be able to rip through a George Lynch guitar solo. So it wasn’t so hard to see why this new grunge flavor rocketed in popularity, leaving metal in its dust.

One of the more overlooked bands to come to prominence in this movement was Seattle’s Screaming Trees. Likely this is because they were coming from a background more concerned with blues and psychedelic rock and less focused on punk aesthetics than many of the other bands in that scene. However, they did have all the ingredients to be huge. A monolithic rhythm section, crushing, fuzzed-out guitar tone and a vocal delivery by one of the best vocalists in the business, one Mr. Mark Lanegan. By the time their seventh album (and third for a major label), Dust was released in 1996, they had gone through a lot as a band, from in-fighting and personnel changes to substance abuse and the loss of friends and contemporaries to such addictions.

These events were perhaps where Lanegan was coming from in his songwriting, as Dust explores a gothic sensibility more akin to his later solo work. Not that the Trees’ songs were ever all that sunny, but Dust seems to capture a darkness that had previously only been hinted at. The album’s opener, “Halo of Ashes,” for instance, kicks off with guitarist Gary Lee Connor’s jangly, Yardbirds-esque opening riff which is joined by a booming, tribal drum lead-in courtesy of drummer Barrett Martin. Lanegan’s lyrics come in, immediately exploring themes of mortality and defeat. The album’s first single, “All I Know” is an anthemic blues-rock staple that stands as one of the record’s highlights. Also worthy of mention is the sweet yet macabre ballad “Sworn and Broken” with a haunting organ solo by guest player Benmont Tench from Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers.

Production-wise, Dust is arguably the best-sounding record by the Trees. The band tapped George Drakoulias to produce. Known for his work with many American Recordings artists like the Black Crowes and the Jayhawks, Drakoulias’ finished product was a more polished, arena-ready sound than previous efforts. To top it off, Andy Wallace (of Nirvana’s Nevermind fame) was hired to master, further adding to the album’s sheen. Perhaps this was a last-ditch effort to cash in on the grunge trend and get the Trees onto bigger tours. Unfortunately, the album’s release came just a hair too late, and the grunge sound started to become less and less relevant in the subsequent years. The Trees took an extended hiatus after that, officially disbanding for good in 2000, making Dust their final record.

It’s truly baffling to me that Screaming Trees weren’t one of the biggest bands of the 1990s. They rose to prominence at the same time as the Nirvanas and Pearl Jams of the world, they were a huge part of the Seattle underground music scene since as early as the mid-1980s and their single “Nearly Lost You” introduced them to the mainstream via the same film soundtrack as other grunge behemoths of the day, Cameron Crowe’s Singles. With all the stars in alignment at the time, superstardom seemed inevitable for them and it just didn’t happen. While this is a real shame, it also set the stage for a very lucrative solo career for Lanegan, not to mention his being a sought-after commodity for guest spots. So maybe it’s all for the best. However, I implore anyone, especially Lanegan fans, to explore the Trees’ back catalog because it is all incredible. And Dust is a hell of a swansong.

-         Jonathan Eagle

I’d Love To Turn You On At The Movies #210 - D.C. Cab (1983, dir. Joel Schumacher)

Whenever I talk about how D.C. Cab is one of my favorite films to anyone familiar with it, the most common response that I get is, “and you said you DON’T smoke weed, right?” This makes sense, considering the film is essentially a series of sight gags meandering around plot points and subplot points that make very little sense together. This is not a hindrance. The film is perfect for those with the shortest of attention spans.

D.C. Cab is Joel Schumacher’s second theatrical film, and everything about it screams “low budget,” down to the editing and the film stock. Even the DVD release is bare bones. It has no subtitles, no other languages but English and lacks even a menu for chapter selection. Prior to D.C. Cab’s release, Mr. Schumacher released The Incredible Shrinking Woman (1981) and would follow it up with the one-two punch of box office favorites St. Elmo’s Fire (1985) and The Lost Boys (1987), so it’s not like Mr. Schumacher didn’t already have his footing as a filmmaker. No, he made D.C. Cab awful-looking on purpose. Since the plot revolves around a ramshackle taxicab company in Washington D.C., I think the low budget, almost “new-hire-training video” quality was completely intentional. Especially when you consider the cast, on which Schumacher absolutely did not skimp. The cast is made up of a combination of ‘80s pop culture giants (Mr. T, the Barbarian Brothers), up-and-coming stand-up comedians (Bill Maher, Paul Rodriguez) former sitcom stars (Max Gail, Whitman Mayo) and Gary Busey. It even features a small but significant cameo from R&B singer Irene Cara as herself.

Albert (Adam Baldwin) is a wide-eyed twentysomething with big dreams to become a cab driver. Obviously every young person dreams of one day driving a cab when they get older, so no issue there really. When his father dies Albert decides to move to Washington, D.C. and track down his dad’s best friend Harold (Max Gail), who owns the D.C. Cab Company. Albert goes through a series of ride-alongs with the eccentric staff of the cab company, including Cleveland Rastafarian Bongo (Otis Day), womanizing racist Elvis fan Dell (Busey), fast-talking Tyrone (Charlie Barnett), and tough but sensitive Samson (Mr. T) to name a few. Many of the ride-alongs happen in almost rapid-fire succession, creating a sort of sketch or vignette effect for the first half of the film. The fledgling company eventually comes into some money when a valuable violin is recovered from one of the cabs and the staff are granted the reward. Even though most of the staff make it clear that they hate driving cabs and would rather take the money and run, Harold, with the help of an inspiring pep-talk from Albert, convinces the staff to invest their share back into the company. This leads to the drivers renewing their licenses (including special permits for airport drop-offs) and new paint jobs on both the cab stand and the cars, but that’s about it. Somehow, this boosts morale so much that the drivers start loving their jobs and their new co-worker. Albert is then implicated in a kidnapping (because of course) and it is left up to the drivers to bail him out and save the day.

And, again, besides the multiple random subplots that pop up throughout the course of the film, that is pretty much it for story. The reason that D.C. Cab is able to keep your attention is because it never stops moving. It continuously hits you over the head with so many jokes, gags and slapstick moments that by the time you realize what you just watched made little sense, the credits are rolling. And speaking of the credits, because the drivers save the day in the end (and that’s not really a spoiler), the credits roll over a funny and charming parade sequence that the city decided to hold in their honor. Each and every cabbie slowly drives through the parade, dancing and carrying on atop one of the cabs. It’s hard not to smile during this, despite it being almost aggressively corny.

I defy any comedy fan, particularly those who came of age in the 1980s to not instantly fall in love with Schumacher’s D.C. Cab. I personally can’t help but grow nostalgic when I watch this film. To this day, it’s perhaps my favorite comedy of the 80s, rivaled only by Fletch. But that’s a film for another entry. And, yes, since we are after all in Colorado, I will give it my “excellent pick to watch while high” endorsement.

- Jonathan Eagle

I'd Love to Turn You On #223 - Mastodon - Blood Mountain

I feel like I got introduced to Mastodon in completely the wrong way - I read about them before ever listening to them. Their drummer, Brann Dailer, wants to play drums like Randy Rhodes played guitar, to the extent of having a polka dot drum kit to match Randy’s famous guitar. Loving the intent behind his playing, I picked up their most recent album at the time, Blood Mountain​, without even knowing what they sounded like. I was 14, a freshman in high school, and from the massive drum fill that pummels you in the first few seconds, I became a part of their cult. If you aren't familiar with the band, immediately prior to this album Mastodon had released ​Leviathan, a concept album chronicling the story of Moby Dick in a way no other band or storyteller has. They gave the book a soundtrack and mood that nobody knew it needed. It allowed you to internalize the mentality of these characters in unheard of ways, and for some like myself, introduced me to Moby Dick as more than a reference I would see on TV or in movies. With ​Blood Mountain Mastodon took their newfound success and came out with an album that was even darker, heavier, and more progressive than ​Leviathan​. Above all else this album accomplished the ultimate goal - getting this kid to have a deep love of heavy metal ever since.

When this album starts it grabs you by the hair and drags you into a snowy cave to begin the experience that is Blood Mountain. The Joseph Campbell-inspired story is that of an unnamed character in search of the Crystal Skull to put atop the Blood Mountain - which he will later find out has dire consequences. On his journey he has to fight vicious monsters and overcome obstacles that could most definitely take his life. As our hero ascends the mountain, he comes across a Sasquatch that can see into the future and a colony of half-tree people, the Birchmen.

All of this seems utterly mad until you listen to the music that is behind it. The drum performance by Brann Dailer sounds like the footsteps of our hero as he is running for his life. Bill Kelliher’s guitar playing gives life to the mountain that is trying to protect itself. Troy Sanders' bass and Brent Hinds' guitar provide meaning and vivid images of what our hero is facing, while both of them on vocals (along with an array of guests) give the illusion of hearing voices and hallucinations. As a kid I wasn’t searching for all of that, I was just into it for the music. It wasn’t like anything I had heard before. The only metal music I knew at the time was Iron Maiden and some Metallica, but this album had very clear nods to some other favorites of mine like Yes and King Crimson, references that I heard but wasn’t able to really place. It was the first time I was able to hear the influence of prog bands in heavy music and it didn’t seem forced, it was just a part of their musical language.

By the time the album is in the final stretch with songs like "The Mortal Soil," our hero gets warned of the dangerous territory and his fate as he is approaching the peak, but that won’t stop him. "Siberian Divide" is where this album metaphorically peaks, our hero almost reaching the top, but failing as he starves to death underneath an avalanche. "Pendulous Skin" takes us out of the physical body of our hero as he ascends into the afterlife, which is what was meant to happen all along. No man is ready to conquer the Blood Mountain. After this album ends, and you look back on the trials and tribulations of our unnamed hero, it feels like the kind of folk tale that you can project your own meaning onto. Whatever your Blood Mountain is, even if you don’t succeed in making it to the peak, there is still a lot that went into the journey. All that you learned about yourself on this journey wasn’t necessary for getting to the peak of Blood Mountain, but they are things you now have for your journey into your next life which you are now ready to conquer.

-         Max Kaufman

I’d Love To Turn You On At The Movies #209 - In A Lonely Place (1950, dir. Nicholas Ray)

 

In 1950, Humphrey Bogart was one of the top-grossing film stars in the country and had just established his own Santana Productions film company to create interesting work outside the rigid Hollywood studio system (though still relying on studios for distribution) after being known the industry as a somewhat willful star to work with. At the same time, director Nicholas Ray had made three moderately successful films (one of them via Santana Productions) and his star was rising; his biggest success, Rebel Without A Cause, still lay years ahead of him. Ray was in a tempestuous marriage with actress Gloria Grahame, also an up-and-comer with several supporting roles to her credit, but her only starring role to date had come a couple years earlier in the film noir Crossfire. These three strong artistic personalities found themselves together to create the best film Santana Productions made - and also one of the best works any of the three produced in their careers - the noir-ish drama In A Lonely Place, adapted from the Dorothy B. Hughes novel of the same name.

            Bogart stars in one of his all-time best performances as Dixon Steele, a screenwriter who hasn’t had a hit since “before the War,” whose violent temper we see erupt three separate times in only the first six minutes of the film, and whose penchant for drinking doesn’t help matters. Gloria Grahame plays Laurel Gray, a neighbor in the same apartment complex who’s seen Steele (usually called “Dix” in the film) around and when he’s accused of murdering a young woman who left his apartment after going there to help him work on a script - a story the police hardly believe - she provides his alibi, though official suspicion is still aimed squarely at him. As Laurel and Dix get to know each other, romance blossoms and his writer’s block begins to lift, but as Laurel learns more about his explosive temperament, she (and the audience) begins to wonder if she did the right thing in helping him - and if perhaps her own life might be in danger. Nicholas Ray, who advocated for his wife to play the role after both Lauren Bacall and Ginger Rogers proved unavailable, has an unerring eye and ear for the tone of the film, which starts out like a whodunit and then quickly loses interest in the murder mystery as the principles fall for each other and the film instead drifts into the turbulent waters of their relationship (though the murder always lurks in the background). There’s never been a more threatening ‘love scene’ than when Dix is making breakfast for the increasingly suspicious Laurel, with the dialogue standard romantic fare but the body language and the absolutely perfect tone of Grahame’s delivery reading as pure terror.

In fact, it’s hardly a noir at all, even though it’s tagged as such on most film sites, and even though a murder sets things in motion. Nowhere are the shadowy, high-contrast cityscapes of noir, the standard femme fatale (instead we may have noir’s first homme fatale), the greed and cynicism driving most of the great noirs - instead we have an examination of a delicate, fragile relationship, one that’s constantly under threat of being blown apart by Dix’s behavior. This examination of the relationship of outsiders, and especially of masculine stereotypes, is common to Ray’s films - think of James Dean in Rebel, fighting against the school gang leader for honor and disappointed in his father’s inability to stand up to his mother, think of James Mason in Bigger Than Life, undermining the role of paternal protector to his family as his addiction spirals out of control, think of Johnny Guitar and its inversion of gender roles wherein women play the respective heads of a town in roles usually doled out to male actors and Sterling Hayden’s titular character is just an ex-flame and hired gun to Joan Crawford. And right in this line we have In A Lonely Place and Dix Steele, supposedly a successful artist in Hollywood, but also a heavy drinker, and a brawler when provoked - and he gets provoked at the drop of a hat. His masculine ego simply can’t take it when he feels attacked, rightly or wrongly, and as the film progresses and he gets closer to Laurel Gray, he gets more paranoid and jealous, rather than more intimate and trusting. It’s an unsettling examination of toxic masculinity decades before that phrase was even coined.

As it was in the script, so it was in life. Actress and writer Louise Brooks wrote in Sight & Sound magazine about Bogart’s performance that “In a Lonely Place gave him a role that he could play with complexity because the character's pride in his art, his selfishness, his drunkenness, his lack of energy stabbed with lightning strokes of violence, were shared equally by the real Bogart.” And the relationship of Dix and Laurel gets closer and closer in the first half of the film, then slowly falls apart for the second half, mirroring that of Ray (who was also a heavy drinker) and Grahame, who separated during the filming and who divorced two years later. Ray, after filming the original script’s ending, decided it didn’t ring true and created an improvised new ending with Grahame, Bogart, and co-star Art Smith. The ending, which I won’t spoil for you, replaced the noir-styled downer finale of the novel with a more devastating and unexpected one that gives the film its lasting sting and resonance.

            Time hasn’t been as kind to Ray’s work as when he was revered by French critics of the 50s and 60s, but In A Lonely Place has endured, his only film to place on the most recent once-a-decade international critics’ poll in Sight and Sound magazine. He’s got a lot of great work but this film, with its personal resonance for the three key artists involved in its making, cuts the deepest of any of his films.

-          Patrick Brown

I'd Love to Turn You On #221 - Bonobo - Black Sands

Bonobo’s record Black Sands was released in 2010 and is his fourth record. Issued on the Ninja Tune label it shows a surprising amount of sonic depth. The first track, "Prelude," introduces a variety of instruments and develops a rich theme with lovely orchestration. The sophistication of the orchestration quickly informs us that our ears are in for a treat. When I think of electronic music, rarely does a product this polished, refined, or intricate come to mind. I’d love to turn you on to Black Sands!

"Kiara," the second track, is an interesting bit of layering in which the song progresses and evolves by combining and featuring different parts. At times it will expose aspects to allow certain parts to be featured and for the song to evolve. It begins with a suspended tone and a shimmering electronic tone struck together, these tones hover and the pitch bends just a moment before the beat eases in with the bass line. At times the bass and drums are faded out while Bonobo introduces slight variations, or different combinations of melody and texture. Keeping track of what is happening becomes a pleasant game for the ear. What combinations have happened? What change will occur next? It also takes what could be potentially overwhelming for the ear and thins it out, letting him control the tension and release by subtly orchestrating these themes and variations. "Kong," the third song, while having different melodic content than "Kiara" could be a different result of a strict set of the same procedural guidelines that both songs seem to follow. Once again Bonobo shows us textures, motifs, and snippets of recurring melodies that layer and combine in different aspects to develop and release tension.

On "Eyesdown" the vocalist Andreya Triana has a chance to take over. She has a relaxed, calm vibe that fits over a hazy and shimmering keyboard line and bass progression. This simple chord progression shows off Triana’s vocal skill and Bonobo’s production skills. While the overall production is cloudy and thick, the percussion is clear and punctuated by cymbal bell hits, snare rim shots, and cymbal slides that produce haunting and shrieking sounds, all subtly buried in the mix.

"El Toro" starts out with a semi-bossa nova groove and introduces a melody fragmented between violin and different wind instruments. The melody thickens into a bigger horn and orchestral section as the phrase builds. It repeats, seemingly folding in on itself, gaining complexity and momentum. This then yields to horn hits trading with percussion breaks. Eventually the rhythm section gives way and the strings and horns are left in an ostinato pattern exposed, repeating and briefly creating a quick transition to the next song. It is an interesting effect, by exposing the horns and strings and removing the rhythm section the listener's ear is drawn to it, and the introduction motif of the next song is quickly inserted. It acts as a palate cleanser, or an audio redirection.

"We Could Forever" is the next song. I think this title speaks to the groove of the song. It wants to put the listener in a place where they are satisfied and do not want to leave. The song starts out with a high-hat pattern and recurring guitar riff. A deep bass progression that eases us thru the tune is introduced, along with other samples. These atmospheric samples of reverb-drenched sax and wood flute over a bed of Rhodes keyboard and guitar are great. Enough variation is used so that the ear is not bored but the vibe is not ruined.

"All In Forms" introduces a sample of Pisces' song "Elephant Eyes" and elaborates upon it. A vocal sample from the Six Boys In Trouble song "Why Can’t I Get It Too?" is also repeated through the song. These elements seem to be the framework on which other sonic explorations are hung. Shimmering pads are panned to one side of a stereo mix, faint percussion fades in and out, and suspended tones are experimented with. It seems to be variation upon a central theme, with certain unifying plot lines that guide the song, keeping the mood and context intact while allowing for sonic exploration.

The next two songs once again feature Andreya Triana. "The Keeper" begins with xylophone and drums in a laid back groove. Bass and guitar are added, establishing an impressive polyphony that is catchy and restrained. As the singing enters, the xylophone and guitar drop out to momentarily to feature the vocals. It is this level of detail and production finesse that makes these songs fun and rewarding repeated listening. New details expose themselves with additional study. Andreya Triana has a great voice for this contemporary R&B style. "Stay The Same" is a more straightforward song rather than some of the theme-and-develop pieces that are on the album. This shows Bonobo’s ability to compose in a more traditional verse/chorus/verse/chorus format while featuring a vocalist, rather than the theme-and-variation content which makes up much of this record.

"Animals" starts out with a light cymbal rim hits and is joined by a guitar ostinato and a bass clarinet playing a melody on top of it. Bass joins in next, adding up to a really unique and great texture. This song unfolds like many on the record, but around the 3:30 mark it stops to rebuild in a slightly different feel. Before it a was 4/4 time signature and it becomes more of a 12/8 triplet-heavy, Afro-jazz feel with an oboe solo. This eventually gives way to drums and screeching waves of sound which fade out.

Black Sands becomes in essence Program Music, or music that strives to render an extra-musical narrative. Yes, you have the musical themes, interesting instrumentation, and development, all done excellently, but what is it saying? It becomes up to the listener to interpret. What does the imagery of the sounds make you feel? For me it evokes emotions and questions - I wonder what Black Sands meant to Bonobo. I feel melancholy and longing, I wonder where the Black Sands are, I wonder when they were. I think that anytime an artist can produce this level of emotional reaction their endeavor has been a success. I’d Love To Turn You On to Black Sands and I hope you take the time to check it out if it’s not already in your collection.

 - Doug Anderson

I’d Love To Turn You On At The Movies #207 - Miller’s Crossing (1990, dir. Joel Coen)

            The Coen Brothers get a lot of love around here. Their films have been written about three times before. In fact, I myself wrote about my love of their films when I reviewed A Serious Man just this past May. So it’s only fitting that I write about another of their films for my last Spork entry of 2018. Today, I’m going to talk about another of their oft-overlooked films, the 1990 gangster-noir film Miller’s Crossing.

            Like many of the Coens’ films, Miller’s Crossing is steeped in snappy dialogue, sometimes making it hard to follow the relatively simple plot. But the gist is this - Tom Reagan (played by Gabriel Byrne) is second in command to a powerful Irish mob boss, Leo O’Bannon (Albert Finney) in Prohibition-era America. At the onset of the film, Tom acts as a kind of mediator between Leo and rival Italian kingpin Johnny Caspar (Jon Polito) when the two men meet to discuss business. Caspar wants to have Bernie (John Turturro), a small-time bookie, killed for divulging secrets about Caspar’s organization. Bernie, however, pays for protection, and Leo refuses to give him up. This causes Caspar to become extremely angry, spewing a diatribe about ethics and threatening all-out war. After Caspar leaves, Tom tries to convince Leo that giving up Bernie to avoid a turf war is the smarter move. It is then revealed that Leo has another reason for not giving up Bernie - he is romantically involved with Bernie’s sister Verna (Marcia Gay-Harden). Leo’s refusal to budge does end up starting a war, beginning with a failed attempt on Leo’s life. This prompts Tom to try again to reason with Leo about handing over Bernie to Caspar. This time, he reveals to Leo that Verna is not worth protecting Bernie for as she has been stepping out on him… with Tom. Leo reacts violently, kicking the shit out of Tom and throwing him out of his establishment. Tom then begins working for Caspar, acting as a catalyst for the ongoing war between the sides.

            Having already dipped their toes in the film noir genre with their debut Blood Simple, by the release of Miller’s Crossing the Coens had the genre perfected. With this film, however, they stumbled upon something different. Cinematographer Barry Sonnenfeld (pre-directing days) shot the film, making full use of darkness and shadow to create a somber and paranoid atmosphere where no one can be trusted. For all intents and purposes, Miller’s Crossing should have been the film that made the Coens a household name. They put a lot of grit and soul into getting the film made, even struggling with writer’s block during the screenwriting process for a three week stretch. On top of that, their original choice for the role of Leo O’Bannon, Trey Wilson (Nathan Arizona from their previous film Raising Arizona) died of a brain hemorrhage just two days before shooting began, opening the door for last minute fill-in Finney. Unfortunately, the film was a total bomb in the box office, only grossing about $5 million. This pattern would continue to plague them until the release of Fargo in 1996.

On the bright side, Miller’s Crossing has since become something of a cult classic and has garnered a lot in home video and DVD/Blu-ray sales. It’s the Coens’ third film, early enough in their careers that I hadn’t yet become the fanatic for their films that I am now. Having been completely blown away by Raising Arizona, as far as I knew these filmmakers excelled at making screwball comedies. I immediately loved Miller’s Crossing though, and it’s been one of my favorite films of theirs and in general ever since. It perfectly combines their trademark subtle wit with a hint of The Godfather and a dash of Double Indemnity. Their casting is always spot-on, but I was particularly taken with J.E. Freeman’s portrayal of Caspar’s majordomo Eddie Dane (or simply “The Dane”). There is something so menacing about that character, yet somehow kind of calming or soothing about his demeanor. It’s a performance that still hasn’t been topped in any of their films. And Byrne’s acting, in my observations, can sometimes feel a little flat, but in this film, he absolutely shines as the scheming, manipulative and perpetually drunk Tom. It is bar-none his best role.

The brothers have made some of the most unforgettable and amazing films of the last two decades. I recently watched them all in order back to back, ending with their most recent Netflix vehicle The Ballad of Buster Scruggs. Each of their films truly has a unique voice of its own, but there is something about Miller’s Crossing that stands out even among an entire career’s worth of pure gems. I watched that one twice.

-         Jonathan Eagle

I'd Love to Turn You On #220 - The Abyssinians - Satta Massagana

For me, studying reggae has been similar to studying the classic R&B recordings of Atlantic or Stax, the legendary blues sessions on Chess or the wide-ranging recordings on Sun Records. The label exists as a framework for all the great music that was released under its imprimatur. The various studio players that orbited the studio became part of the sound, the specific engineers and producers, even the tape-op guys associated with that particular label would come to define the artistic and commercial decisions made in the production of their albums. The classic era of reggae (from approximately 1960 until the mid to late 70’s) was produced in the relatively homogeneous environments of Jamaica and England. The communities of musicians and engineers who were responsible for the classic sound were relatively few in number and thus, as one studies this great music, it becomes clear that many of the same people played on many of the best records and that they were produced by only a handful of technicians in just a few studios. This is why, to the uninitiated, much reggae sounds confoundingly similar. Like the R&B on Atlantic, the deep pleasure and understanding of this music comes from an overarching appreciation of the traditions and techniques used and then an understanding of the individual strengths of each singer. With reggae, there is a deep history of beats, riddims and lyrical insights which can be followed and understood as the foundation, and then there is unlimited joy to be found in the varying vocal deliveries of each individual or group. The Abyssinians were in the tradition of other Jamaican vocal groups like The Paragons, The Heptones, The Mighty Diamonds and Culture who twisted the vocal harmony styles of Doo-Wop and early R&B into the hypnotic vocal attack of conscious roots reggae.

Satta Massagana - both the song and the album - are at the very pinnacle of reggae. The song has become recognized as the national anthem of reggae, and the album embodies everything one could wish for in reggae - it is inspirational, deep and danceable. All the elements are here: the lyrics are serious, political, spiritual and poetic, the band is filled with the absolute cream of Jamaica’s best (Sly & Robbie, Chinna Smith, Tyrone Downie, Mikey Chung et al.) and the three-part vocals by principles Donald and Lynford Manning and lead vocalist Bernard Collins are heavenly. If the band had only recorded "Satta Massagana" and no other song, their reputation would still be as solid. It is one of the most recognizable and wholly satisfying songs of its era; not just reggae - all songs. Everything from its righteous lyric filled with equal parts supplication and inspiration so beautifully sung and harmonized by the vocalists, to the tough, punchy horns, the perfect guitar riddim, and burbling keyboard - it all works wonderfully. In addition, there is the use of words and phrases from the Amharic language adding an even greater air of philosophical mystery. In the age of the internet it is easy to find out what these words mean, but when the album was first released in 1976 (the single was recorded in 1969) hearing these words so lovingly integrated into the song filled the listener with many questions and hinted at deeper meanings than those we were used to in top 40 rock music. These guys were tapping in to something ancient and profound while creating music that seemed unmoored from any specific time period. Listening to it in 2018 has changed nothing at all - this album still sounds fresh. And "Satta Massagana" is not the only masterpiece. The entire album is filled with miraculous songs. Each one a perfectly crafted piece of golden-era reggae, as well a lyrical triumph, nourishing spirit and intellect. "Declaration Of Rights," "Know Jah Today," "Abendigo," "African Race" or "Leggo Beast" are all equal to the title track, and the entire album rewards endless listening.

If diving into reggae seems daunting to you and you have no idea where to start, Satta Massagana is the perfect entry point. It is fantastic music that transcends any genre, yet it is also a perfect exemplar of what reggae can and should be. The world is filled with great music, but music that rises above fashion to “life-changing” - now that is worth pursuing.

-         Paul Epstein

The Moody Blues – In Search Of The Lost Chord (50th Anniversary Edition Boxset) Universal Music (Polydor) 2018

     As the second of the classic seven Moody Blues albums released between 1967 and 1972, this album while still great has perhaps aged the most. The use of psychedelic trappings such as sitars and swirling stereo mixes plus songs about Eastern religion and the drug culture feels far removed from the world of 2018.  That actually may be the charm of listening to …Chord, however, as it takes you back to another era. While Justin Hayward had shone brightest on Days Of Future Passed (“Tuesday Afternoon” and “Nights In White Satin”), Ray Thomas (“Legend Of A Mind”) and John Lodge (“Ride My See-Saw”) have the best tracks this time. This new five disc boxset continues the expansion of the original twelve-track 1968 Deram LP adding some elements that may make the extra price worth it for Moodies obsessives (but likely will keep it on the shelf for casual fans).

     In 1997 a straight reissue labelled “digitally remastered” was released and frankly sounds muddy. The only thing making this version worth keeping is a nice interview with the band in the booklet about making the album; otherwise it is not the version to own. In 2006, a two CD set came out labelled as “Deluxe Edition” on the plastic slipcase. Disc one was the original album while disc two was fifteen tracks of alternate mixes (“The Word” [Mellotron mix]” for example), single songs (“A Simple Game”, etc.) and a nice five song BBC session. The packaging was great, being a quad folder with a fine photo-filled booklet featuring an essay by Mark Powell. The booklet also had short discussions about all the bonus tracks. The sound was much better than the ’97 version with more treble and less mud in the middle frequencies. A single disc remaster version with only nine bonus tracks (minus the BBC set) was released in 2008 as well.

     With the 2018 fiftieth anniversary of the original album upon us, this new boxset makes sense if you need everything you can get your hands on by the classic version of the Moody Blues. Disc one is the original album appended with five single mixes (including a never released mono mix of “Legend Of A Mind”) and otherwise sounds the same as the 2006 CD. Disc two has a new stereo mix of the old album plus the Justin Hayward sung version of single B-side “A Simple Game” (previously on the 2006 CD too). It is pretty hard to hear much difference in the mixes, frankly, than the ones on disc one. There is slight movement of elements, but not enough to make it entertainingly unique. Disc three is almost the same as the bonus disc with the 2006 version only adding the track “Gimme A Little Somethin’.” Disc four gives you a 5.1 surround mix that seems to be underwhelming folks that actually have a player (but truthfully yours truly hasn’t heard it not owing a player). For this reviewer, disc five is the main reason to own this new box as it is a 19 track visual DVD of mostly unavailable TV performances from that era. While the camera work is typically terrible 1960s musical coverage on the French TV songs (you get to see a lot of audience and virtually nothing of keyboard player Mike Pinder for instance), it does show that they could sing and play this material pretty well (drummer Graeme Edge is especially good). It is really interesting to see this more classical version of the band playing totally odd songs like “Bye Bye Bird” and the Animals track “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood.” Seven of the songs come from a color BBC production that has them miming (though at times it appears they are singing live). The other reason to buy this box is the expanded packaging which includes a nice soft-cover seventy-two page book and a fun reduced-size reprint of the “Ride My See-Saw” sheet music. The essay is nearly a word for word reprint of Mark Powell’s original in the 2006 version while the book does include many more pictures, old record covers and lyrics. What’s omitted from the 2006 booklet is any discussion of each of the bonus tracks and curiously the original back LP cover (photo elements as in the book, but not the whole cover).

     To sum up, buy the 2006 or 2008 versions if you aren’t a completest and just want a great CD. Buy the box for the visuals or if you need a 5.1 mix. That being said, it is a shock to report (as a confirmed CD lover) that in playing each version side by side with a pristine copy of the old vinyl, the original black rotating version actually wins out for this reviewer for the best overall sound (unless you prefer your sound with a thicker middle which the CD does have).
- Doc Krieger

I’d Love To Turn You On At The Movies #206 - The Testament Of Dr. Mabuse (1933, dir. Fritz Lang)

Director Fritz Lang seemed to have an incredible knack for predicting the future, imagining modern cities ruled by technology in Metropolis, the era of media-driven serial murderers in M, and both the rise of fascism and the role terrorism would play in modern life in his masterful 1933 suspense film The Testament Of Dr. Mabuse. Lang began a series of Dr. Mabuse movies in 1922 with his silent Dr. Mabuse The Gambler. Mabuse was a “Moriarity” type evil genius character whose criminal schemes go beyond the lust for riches and veer into concepts of world domination and mind control. Mabuse uses telepathy and projection to control people, and while it doesn’t succumb to pure fantasy, there is an edge of the unreal to this film that makes it succeed as both mystery and science fiction.

The character of Dr. Mabuse and his nefarious abilities to bend people to his will and make them commit unspeakable acts is the secret to what makes the movie so compelling. Locked in a mental institution after the crimes he committed in the first movie, we come to understand that Mabuse has created a network of evildoers to do his bidding through the use of trickery and intimidation. Mabuse’s plot involves creating societal havoc - blowing up chemical factories, poisoning water, destroying crops - so that he can bend the populace to his will and rule the world. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that a German director in 1933 sharing his fears about a violent dictator might be referencing the looming shadows of Hitler’s Third Reich, and everything that happens in the movie lends credulity to this theory as Mabuse rejects profit in exchange for sowing anarchy. In the midst of the growth of the Nazi party, the movie’s theme rings frighteningly true. Mabuse convinces common thieves and those he can blackmail to his side, convincing them that society must be brought to its knees so he can impose his vision of totalitarian rule. To the outside world Mabuse is a madman sitting in a padded cell endlessly scribbling his plans for conquest on pieces of paper. To those inside his cadre of creeps, he is an evil genius leading them to some unholy victory over the rest of mankind.

How Lang achieves the heightened levels of fear and paranoia we experience in this film are the secrets to his craft as one of the great filmmakers of the 20^th century. Lang belonged to a rare class of directors who successfully made the leap from silent to sound film. Many simply could not leave the purely visual medium and incorporate sound and dialogue into their bag of tricks. Lang in fact used exactly those challenges to make his films so successful. His use of sound is overwhelming. It feels like a new medium to explore and that’s exactly what it was. The pounding of machines, the wailing of sirens, the relatively new mechanized sounds of the industrial revolution were the raw materials Lang forged into the glowing outline of his story. The same for visual effects and lighting; Lang beautifully predicts much of the lexicon and tradition of film-noir before it exists. His shadows have a life of their own, and unknown worlds lurk just beyond the saturated light of the frame. Few directors can move the viewer so completely with just the suggestion of emotion.

Perhaps no aspect of The Testament Of Dr. Mabuse rings truer than the chilling spectre of global terrorism that it raises. When we learn the entirety of Mabuse’s fiendish plot, it is not a stretch to imagine the same sentiments coming from Osama Bin Laden’s mouth. Mabuse’s nihilistic desire to tear the flesh of civilization away from the bones of society is remarkably on target and modern. Like Professor Moriarity in the Sherlock Holmes series, Mabuse seems to come to an end in each film, yet his brand of evil is not dependent on corporeal existence, he represents the evil in all men’s souls, a malignance we must fight every day.

-         Paul Epstein

I'd Love to Turn You On #219 - Eric B. & Rakim - Don’t Sweat the Technique

            Conventional wisdom tells you that Eric B. & Rakim debuted strong in 1987 with their greatest work, Paid in Full, and then released three more albums of slightly diminishing returns before breaking up (and then reuniting 25 years later for a live tour, but that’s another story). But my ears tell me different. They tell me that the duo started good and kept getting better as album makers, and that the classic status accorded to their first two albums rests on the strength of their (admittedly, absolutely classic) singles but not so much the rest of the songs, whereas the lesser status of the other albums is because they aren’t thought to have singles in the same league as “I Know You Got Soul” and “Follow the Leader” - this is also a false assumption. Paid In Full’s minimal beats-and-groove topped by Rakim’s speedy, word-heavy flow was a revolution in the sound of rap, taking Run-D.M.C.’s innovations a step further. Follow the Leader upped the ante by fleshing out the music. Let the Rhythm Hit ‘Em was a tentative move in the direction of expanding their music, and their forward progress culminated in Don’t Sweat the Technique, their fullest, jazziest, and most consistent of their four albums.

            The duo's music was a huge influence on rap. Though Rakim gets the lion's share of the praise, it's not just their influence on major MCs from Nas to Ghostface Killah to Eminem, but also on beatmakers and producers - it’s hard to imagine the RZA’s minimal, fragmented beats for the Wu-Tang Clan empire or the Bomb Squad's relentless productions for Public Enemy without Eric B. having done this first. But by 1992 when this record was released rap was expanding in so many directions at once - the Native Tongues movement and Public Enemy and Beastie Boys in NYC alone changing the sound of modern hip-hop, and Dr. Dre and Ice Cube redefining the West Coast sound (not to mention other regional variants) - that it got lost in the shuffle, their first (and only) regular album that didn’t go gold. Fans at the time were disappointed that they didn't stick to the tried-and-true. But Eric B (born Eric Barrier) says that they group wanted to stay on top of things. In a 2016 interview with The Combat Jack Show he notes his awareness of up-and-comers who could easily turn the group "old school" - "These guys were really right on our heels—the Nas’s and the guys coming up. So we had to go into the studio and separate ourselves on the next level." And that they did.

But it's not just the fact that the album is more diverse than its predecessors that sets it apart - it's simply a solid listen, beginning to end, in a way that the previous records aren't. The album is a mix of narrative-leaning pieces like the romantic “What’s On Your Mind?” and the Desert Storm PTSD nightmare “Casualties of War” with Rakim's more typical stream of consciousness word flow pieces like “Pass the Hand Grenade” and the title cut. But in either mode, Rakim just never stops, his flow fast, clear, and assured, augmented by Eric B.'s expanded palette of jazz bass, horn hooks, soul backup choruses, and so forth that mark each song in the memory. And if Eric B.'s hooks are what draw me back, Rakim's words are what give the album its never-ending depths. He throws down so many that I’m still deciphering parts 26 years later - not that I can’t understand what he says, just that part of the joy of this music is letting the dizzying rush of words go by, focusing in occasionally to zero in on a song’s subject, or one of Rakim’s brilliantly rhymed phrases that I just noticed this time around (as in this couplet from “The Punisher”: “Go manufacture a mask, show me after / a glass of a master that has to make musical massacre”).

Oh yeah, those killer singles I mentioned earlier? "Know the Ledge" and "Don't Sweat the Technique" have actually become acknowledged as great tracks by the duo, but "Casualties of War" and (the non-single) "The Punisher" - all in the group's faster/harder mode - are on par as well. That's four great ones right there (same as on Paid In Full), without even counting that "Relax With Pep," "Rest Assured," "Pass the Hand Grenade," and "Kick Along" smoke any of the filler cuts on the debut - or noting that there are four more solid ones beyond even those, and they may not even be your faves the way they're mine. Back on one of the duo's greatest songs, "Follow the Leader," Rakim says "Rap is rhythm and poetry, cuts create sound effects" - this is the album where they prove it in the most diverse and consistent way.

-         Patrick Brown