What Are You Listening to Lately (Part 13)?

Kayne West – 808s and Heartbreak
This album just gets more and more interesting for me. It's spare and minimal, yes, but it's got hook value - West's too pop-savvy to not have it - and for as little as it's got going on audibly (though more than the title lets on), it's proven to be quite durable, not wearing thin even with just voice and 808 on many tracks. I'm not a big fan of "RoboCop," lyrics are just too silly, but he's basically opening up as much as he can while staying within a pop format. Crafting songs of love and heartbreak is a pop given, there's no reason he shouldn't be doing it too; and there's no reason someone as talented as he is shouldn't do it well, which he does. It's such a break from his norm - though there's nothing in the electro-heavy sound he hadn't tried before - that it's causing some waves. In short, it's an experiment - an experiment within pop form, which doesn't permit you to go too far after all - and only time will tell if it will be considered a grand flop or a new direction, a brave experiment. It's personal, it's catchy, and whether it proves to be a detour or not I like the tunes, the words, and the experiment enough that I expect to dig it for a while.

Roots of Chicha: Psychedelic Cumbias from Peru
Let's forget that word "psychedelic" shall we? Too much baggage associated with it, and most people's interpretations of the word are very personal. I mean, if you want a parallel to this music, this is more Nuggets or 13th Floor Elevators - styled garage band stuff, not heavily processed, acid-drenched shit like Parable of Arable Land or Electric Ladyland. It's raw, rocking, influenced by the "now" (meaning of course "then") sound that breathed life into a million bands about the world, each working their regional variation on the music that was in the air. So from '68 to '78, these Peruvian bands made songs for dancing, devoid of the intellectual or class-conscious aims (or pretensions) of, say, the San Francisco scene or the Brazilian Tropicalistas - closer in spirit to Malaysian Yeh-Yeh or, well, the we-just-wanna-have-some-fun Nuggets stuff. Songs don't catch as well as the best of Nuggets though - partly a function of my mono-lingual limits, partly a function of so many of them taking off from roughly the same rhythmic base and building a Latin dance tune flavored with rock and roll on top of that. I do enjoy listening to this and periodically sounds do jump out - a curious Moog moment, a nice Farfisa riff, a vocal flourish - that make me take a momentary notice, but it all ultimately fades back into the flow. Any tune here would liven up your party, your mixtape, your playlist, but taken 17 in a row for an hour and change, it gets tough to distinguish one from the next, even if you can live in the moment and dig them there. Oh yeah, except for the time when one of the groups adapts "Fur Elise" to Chicha form. Maybe not the best song here, but it sure does stick out.

Kimya Dawson – I’m Sorry that Sometimes I’m Mean
It kind of bums me out that Kimya's music being all over Juno is going to encourage those cynics who don't like the film to create a backlash against her when they really don't even understand what the fuck she does, tying in Kimya with some kind of saccharin-sickly-sweet bit of cutesy-pie idea that's not really her metier. I know it's happening because I've heard it here at the record store and it fucking sucks, because to me she's a totally uncompromised musician, making things her way and making her own slow and steady advances. What the haters key in on - and I'll admit here that I'm cynical enough myself to not even have the remotest interest in seeing Juno - is the sense of whimsy, something that's all over this album. Talking Ernest and Talking Pee-Wee dolls, cartoons and cereal - the subject matter is enough to make you think she needs to grow up already. But what she's doing is brilliant - childlike, not childish, and if you don't get the difference, it's something you ought to think about. Childlike to me means approaching a subject with the openness of a child, experiencing things with some kind of wonder and not the sort of jaded hipster-dom that indie music is so rife with. Childish, on the other hand, is regressive, infantile, taking your ball and going home, crying over spilt milk, always raging at a world that might hurt you and not trusting anybody. She's always the former, never the latter. She sees bad shit that goes on but doesn't let it kill her spirit. She sings about it instead. She reaches out to other people who might feel the same. And when she's using Talking Ernest or cartoon references, it's nothing so heady as a metaphor, it's just a way of talking about adult subjects with language kids will understand, or on the flip side, talking to other adults while keying in on touchstones of a youthful idealism that she hasn't lost contact with. If I don't love every song the way I do on other recordings of hers, I love enough of them, and I love the ideas and ideals behind all of them. I hope her success via Juno doesn't spoil her. It would be a tragedy. Based on what I know of her from a couple conversations and from her music, I can't imagine it happening. And if she emerges bigger and stronger (and hopefully wealthier too), it's gonna be the best sign I've seen in the music industry in more than a decade.

What Are You Listening to Lately (Part 12)?

King Sunny Ade – Juju Music
At first I didn't love this one the way I do now - subtler dynamics and a hook value somewhat lower than Ade and Martin Meissonier's subsequent outings for Island meant that it took longer to sink in. But after much acclimatization to Sunny Ade's catalog, it's easier to hear how this fits in as a particularly brilliant sampler of what he was doing around the time on his own before Meissonier put his hands in and added some Western touches to attune it more to the Euro-American sensibilities they hoped to hook into. Not too much though - this one's a good halfway point between the uncut Juju that brought Ade to fame and fortune in his native Nigeria and throughout Western Africa and the more pointedly Western stuff that failed to break him on a Marley-like scale Stateside and in Europe. All songs are good to great - more consistent than Synchro System if not quite as dynamic and about equal to the overall quality of much more Euro-African synthesis of the great and underrated Aura (though this one's way more Afro- than Euro-). "Ja Funmi" is one of the highest points I've heard in his catalog, kicking the album off right. And it never lets up afterward, even if the dense synthesizer forest of "Sunny Ti De Ariya" and the English lyrics of "365 Is My Number/The Message" are the only times afterward that it really makes major marks as standout tunes again. But it's high quality across the board, even if it sometimes - here's that subtlety again - doesn't exactly stand up and announce the differences in tracks. There isn't a part of this I don't enjoy at any time of day or night, especially when it's played loud (as it should be).

Miles Davis – The Musings of Miles
A really interesting and a unique, if not wholly exciting, item in the Miles catalog for a few reasons. First - it's from just before his triumphant return to public form at the Newport Festival in 1955 and shows him working at the peak of his 1950's style. Second - it's on the cusp of the formation of his First Quintet and has all the stylistic marks of that era of his development. Third - great song selection and pacing, starting with mid-tempo and ballad numbers then slowly speeding up over the course of the record and closing again with a nice ballad. Fourth, and most importantly - it's a quartet, just Miles and rhythm. There is nowhere else in his entire catalog where you get to hear him so nakedly and clearly without another horn drawing your interest away (especially since he had such a knack for picking really great players to work alongside him). But back to song selection a moment, where I'd like to point out his very interesting "A Night in Tunisia," in which Miles craftily dodges the part where every saxophone player has to take on "the famous alto break" if they're gonna tackle the song, and Miles just slyly makes it his own, giving a nod to Charlie Parker and then doing his own thing with it. As much as I enjoy the rest of the record, a good if not outstanding one in the catalog, this is the highlight. And it's that not-outstanding-ness of the rest of the record that keeps it hovering somewhere better than good, but not quite great. It's all well-done, it's all enjoyable, but only on "Tunisia" does it blindside you with surprises, even if I dig his Monk-answer "I Didn't" and other parts quite a bit.

Funkadelic – Let’s Take It to the Stage
George Clinton and Co. are rarely perfect at album length. Their best ones always leave you a spot or two where you can run to the kitchen and get the snacks; where you'll skip to the next track; where you won't bother ripping some songs to your Ipod; and this one is no exception. That said, I enjoy it all even if not all equally. I count four great ones and six lesser ones, including the lengthy Bernie Worrell organ and synth workout with George's dirty mouth embedded deep down in the intro. But the overall mood is great; off the cuff nasty, funky, funny, soulful, rocking - everything you'd ask of these guys (and gals). And it's perhaps the best representation of their late-Westbound period; the point where they'd given up on the extended druggy drones of the early albums but had not yet achieved the slicker sound of their Warner Bros. years. It starts out great, hits another winner with the utterly un-P.C. "No Head No Backstage Pass," scores a classic to close the A with "Get Off Your Ass And Jam" and then opens the B with the almost Gothic-metal "Baby I Owe You Something Good." These four great ones are surrounded by fun, by funk, and by as solid an outing as they'd make under the name Funkadelic (and yes, I'm including Maggot Brain) or would make until One Nation Under A Groove. Pretty great, but not perfect - and isn't that more or less what you'd expect from George?

What Are You Listening To Lately (Part 11)?

Sly & the Family Stone - Stand!
If it were not for the just-OK "Somebody's Watching You" and the slight excess of "Sex Machine," this album would be perfect - the absolute inverse in its brightness, drive, and optimism of There's a Riot Goin' On's murk, languor, and pessimism. There's nary a hint of the darkness that would consume Sly a year or so after the making of this album - it's all hope and optimism and direct confrontation of problems, none of the resigned negativity he'd essay on the next record. And it's beautiful for most of its length, with "Everyday People" standing as not just one of Sly's best songs, but one of the best pop songs of all time. A true, indelible, A+ moment. But it's only one standout of Sly's grand statement of purpose - or at least of the purpose he espoused in 1969. On nearly any other record, "Everyday People" would be a career-topper the artist would try forever to recapture. On Stand! the song, brilliant as it is, finds at least three others on par with it - the bruising funk of "Sing A Simple Song," the tense equality plea of "Don't Call Me Nigger, Whitey" and the nearly-surpassing-it masterpiece of "I Want to Take You Higher." It's a landmark album, kept half a star short for me only by some minor flaws which in truth never cross my mind while it's playing, only in reflection afterwards.


Meat Puppets - II
In a way, their best because it's got the most breadth but it's also a little on the side of wild youth - they got wiser as they continued, and I for one appreciate that. But even so, they're pretty damn smart even this early on in their career and I don't think they were ever more fun, singing however they feel it without worrying about, y'know, pitch and stuff and playing their wacked out guitar/bass/drums the same way. Which just means that Kurt & co. cleaned them up a bit for their respectable stab at the MTV crowd, not that Nirvana improved on the melodies or the words. Cobain was right to pick three songs from this album for their big acoustic special because it's the Puppets' catchiest, their easiest to absorb (especially in the cleaner Nirvana versions) and he knew as well as anyone that "grunge" fans fans not acclimated to the underground that spawned Nirvana would be able to glom on to these shoulda-been hits more readily then the thrash of the first record or the wide-eyed (or should I say wide-pupiled?) psychedelic wonder of some of the later ones. So yeah, I guess it really is their best, a repository of melodies, riffs and memories, even though I find that I don't always go to this for my Puppets fix, which just means there are more great ones lurking out there.


Various Artists - Produced by Trevor Horn
Before I had any idea who Eno was, before I made any connection between Phil Spector and the multitude of hits he produced, I could identify a Trevor Horn production within a few bars. So his 80's material collected here holds a special place for me. He's the magic link between ABC, my heroes in Art of Noise, my favorite Pet Shop Boys song, the wacko "Buffalo Gals," and my otherwise inexplicable attraction to Yes and Godley & Creme. I don't necessarily need his 90's and 00's stuff the way I love his 80's, but neither do I mind hearing how he's developed (though I have yet to develop my own tastes enough to enjoy t.A.T.u for more than 2.5 minutes at a time.). Like the key AoN releases, like "Buffalo Gals," like "Owner of a Lonely Heart" and "Cry," the bulk of the 80's material here takes me to a sentimental place that I enjoy visiting. And if I don't love it all equally, this is a fundamental piece of my musical development. Eno and Spector came later and I can't in truth say that they've meant more to me.

What Are You Listening To Lately (Part 10)?

Roxy Music - Roxy Music
Not quite seminal for me, but damn close. The album consists of weirdo artsy stuff that still retains enough pop/rock sense to seem sorta normal, though not so much once you delve into the soundscapes on side B. So yeah- wherever they take it, there's still a sense of melody, of structure, and for this I guess we ought to thank Mr. Ferry for dominating the proceedings enough that he deserved (or so he felt) sole songwriting credits no matter how clearly you can hear the audible input of his confreres. But the 'A' is downright classic art-rock, the 'B' never tests my patience unduly or anything, but I've noticed myself tuning out from time to time when they're not hitting it perfectly right, as they are in the fractured rhythms of "Sea Breeze" or the totality of "Bitters End." But it - and by this I mean the whole album, A- & B- sides alike - sounds fantastic. The enterprise of warped pop/rock songs makes a nice audio complement to Ferry's Romantic longings and letdowns and brings the whole thing up a notch. The record really opened some possibilities for my listening - it let me realize that you don't have to wear your strangeness on your sleeve to prove you're smart like too many avant-gardists think. You can be plenty subversive via more a broadly accepted means of expression.


Kimya Dawson - Alphabutt
It should be no surprise that someone like Kimya who's always sung about adult subject matter with the whimsy of a child and in terms a kid can understand should, on the event of her having her own child, make an actual kids' album complete with songs that indulge her mildly scatalogical humor ("Pee Pee in the Potty" and whatnot). I had hoped she'd take her gift for condensing adult ideas into child-friendly music, but given her penchant for being utterly goofy (not to mention the fact that her kid (named Panda) is still only an infant), songs about tigers in your bedroom and an alphabetical lesson that makes sure to use variants of "fart" at least six times out of twenty-six are probably exactly what I should've expected. So I may not listen to it much, but if I had a kid I just might, and should I choose to throw it on anyway, I'll get some laffs out of it for sure. And then at the end she throws down "Sunbeams and Some Beans" the politically charged kid song I had hoped the whole album might be. Killer. It fits totally within her ethos, but it's a unique item` for sure. Buyer beware. Juno fans, beware.


Various Artists - The Only Doo-Wop Album You'll Ever Need
It's great, sure, and only if you take the title literally will you have a problem with the selections that don't dive too deep. If you want a great intro to the music, 2+ solid hours of great doo-wop you'll be very pleased to have this, as I am. It's a bunch of no-brainer selections, by which I don't mean an insult, it's just that there's no way for things to go wrong if you program stuff like "In the Still of the Nite," "Why Do Fools Fall in Love?" "I Only Have Eyes for You" and the like, the only potential problem being overexposure of some tracks. And that's what you get here, two discs worth of surefire greats, nothing controversial, every one of them very good or great. Again, if you take issue, it'll be with the false advertising of the title which is certainly misleading - there's plenty more great material out there if you want to look of course - but if you really only need two discs worth, if you look at the title and believe it, this probably will do you just fine. I personally take issue with the title, yes, but moreso with the skimpy book, which could tell you something about the personalities surrounding this great music and instead gives you nothing but a couple paragraphs by Billy Vera telling you why you should enjoy doo-wop. I mean, if you're reading it, you already know why it's worth your listening time, right? Anyway, take it how you will - a fantastic collection of music, or a misleading package that only scratches the surface; either way, it's a lot of great shit.

What Are You Listening To Lately (Part 9)?

Neil Young - Tonight's the Night
I know a lot of people think this record is just a bummer, but I absolutely love it. And to counter the idea that all it is is a big downer, you've got two songs two in which Neil expresses his joy about Pegi as his young wife and mother of his kid - "Speakin' Out" and "New Mama" - the latter ending on the words "I'm livin' in a dream land." And the songs that do explore darker, grimmer material - and they are many, lest you think I'm missing the point - are countered and buoyed by these, by the joyous energy of "Come On Baby Let's Go Downtown" that explodes right on the heels of the melancholy "Borrowed Tune," by the overall framework in which he sings a lament for his friend Bruce Berry but still offers Danny Whitten - both Berry and Whitten dead of drug overdoses by the time of recording of this album - the lead vocal on "Downtown." He's tying together the life-affirming and the skirting-the-edge-of-death, he's offering the idea that having the world on a string don't mean a thing, but knowing that shouldn't prevent you from being living life, that in fact it should strengthen your resolve to see what's good out there. Every song is distinct, makes its mark; it rocks hard, it plays it mellow, it's got meaning, it's got life, death, joy and sadness - how much more can you possibly want from a rock and roll record?


Q-Tip - Amplified
I think this is better than any Tribe Called Quest album (excepting compilations). There, I said it and I mean it. Part of the reason is that the vocals come through loud and clear, never submerged in a smoky aura or underproduced to sink underneath the weight of the beats and samples; part of it is the unity of the minimal style that threads through the record. There’s a varied, yet non-stop rhythmic drive pushing every track, each of which is then decorated with an ornamental sound effect or simple melody to mark it in the mind. Just when you think it’s gone to all beats and voice, a shift in the rhythm or a melodic line will ring through and sweeten things enough to carry you to the next riff. And that’s not even bringing in Q-tip’s mellifluous tones. He really is one of the greats, and he doesn’t need a foil to provide counterpoint – he’s got enough variety on his own. Certainly the rhythmic drive is something this shares with some of the Tribe’s albums, but even on the vaunted Low End Theory I find myself waiting a few tracks for the next great song once one’s over, examining in too much detail, for example, the space between “Butter” and “Check the Rhime.” Here, even the lower-key tracks – like “Things U Do” – give me a charge, and true to the album format they’re propped up and strengthened by their surroundings. I love the Tribe when they’re great, but they were never this consistent for me, never made an album whose whole overshadowed the constituent components. Oh yeah, and “Vivrant Thing” stands for me as the greatest single he’s ever made. Ever.


Lou Reed - Mistrial
Unlike, say, Berlin, the failure here is one of execution, not of inspiration. Songs could be better, sharper, more exciting, but as ideas, as an album concept, it’s a continuation of what he’d been doing over the last three or four records – a way less successful attempt, yeah, but where this is a rough stone that may contain nothing but mica and iron pyrite, Berlin is just an over-polished turd. Whether its surface sheen makes it worth exposure to its rotten core is purely up to you. I’d probably rather dig into this one’s shallower lyrical and musical pleasures – again, a continuation of his adult ruminations on his real-world relationships, and a street level look at contemporary problems of New York and of the country – than the feel-bad vibes and overly ornate production of the earlier record. At least he’s gunning for something that can be construed as a positive, rather than a heavy dose of second-hand pessimism. In the same way that The Blue Mask and Legendary Hearts explore the tail end of his “dark” years, this is a counterpart to his explorations of a newer, positive and personal songwriting outlook on the world that starts in New Sensations (or really, in Growing Up in Public, though that one’s got its own problems, starting (and perhaps ending) with a band that's not in synch with him). Despite its bad rep amongst Lou fans, I don’t mind this at all, I dig what he’s striving for even if he falls short of the mark – there are at least three other records of his that leap to mind immediately as ones I would less like to hear. And though it’s out of print on a US available CD, it’s a safe bet that you can always find the vinyl used. And cheap, too.

What Are You Listening to Lately (Part 8)?

Ornette Coleman – To Whom Who Keeps A Record
An ex post facto collection, yes, but not the scrap heap that might imply given that six of seven tracks were recorded a week apart from each other and show a remarkable unity of sound – they very well could have been conceived as an album from the get go. But with this current domestic release of the formerly Japan-only disc, fans who love Ornette’s prime acoustic quartet music but don’t want to shell out for his out of print and expensive (but absolutely worth every penny!) Atlantic box set can still hear it. And I recommend that action because this is nearly as good a collection as the more revered Atlantic masterpieces like Shape of Jazz to Come and Change of the Century. Highlights include the lead track – “Music Always” – the lone track from 1959 with Billy Higgins on drums. It’s one of those twisty Ornette themes that can still ring around your head all day if you’re not careful. There’s also the spectacular “P.S. Unless One Has (Blues Connotation No. 2),” from the 1960 sessions with Ed Blackwell on drums, and it’ll do the trick of dislodging that earlier melody if you need it to, but it’s worth your time to also focus on how Blackwell takes apart the rhythm here without ever losing the feeling of a steady pulse, as is not always the case with avant-garde leaning music in the jazz style. This track – and by extension, this album – is a testament to just how right he was in this quartet, every bit as perfect in the group as Higgins. The rest of the album is a fine slice of Ornette’s genius in full bloom, and just because my ears are drawn most readily to these tracks, I would want to slight the others. The whole damn thing is pretty great; I daresay it’s only the fact of its limited exposure to U.S. audiences that has it lesser known here.




Moby - Last Night
Well, I think it’s a beautiful thing, but I seem to like Moby better than just about everyone I know, so take it with a grain of salt. Typical of his records it starts out fast and clubby and slowly lets the melancholy of the “chill room” take over, but as a friend of mine pointed out in a discussion, his ambient/downtempo here is quite fine, particularly in the bonus track that donates a few extra minutes to the thematic title track that would otherwise close things. But where some find “Ooh Yeah” and the like to be “merely” disco, I think that they’re great – especially in the cases of “Ooh Yeah” and “Alice,” but really throughout the entire opening stretch. A couple last things – he says in the surprisingly non-didactic (for him) liner notes that he’s compressing an 8-hour night of going out and partying down to 65 minutes. Which makes this in effect a concept album, and one in which I think he tells a more coherent and accurate story (or at least conveys a truer feeling) than 90% of the concept records out there, signifying – as he says in the liner notes – “a multitude of experiences, from the celebratory to the despairing to the comforting to the frightening to the conventional to the transcendent.” OK, maybe nothing too frightening here but he’s nailed the rest, and the conventional is only that way because he was instrumental in helping change convention once upon a time. I hate it when I feel like I have to say “If you’d been there, you’d get it” but it’s true. I didn’t ever have to look at the liners to know that was what he was going for – or that this was his strongest record in years. And I'd hope that even if you weren't there, you'd understand this glimpse into that world as a particularly clear and accurate reflection of same.



Sun Ra - Secrets of the Sun
This one’s a fine contribution to the catalog of Ra’s works on CD, a simultaneously experimental and accessible work placed right at the beginning of a huge period of change in his music. The recording falls early in the group’s New York years (Ra having arrived there about a year before), featuring the same folks as on the great Bad and Beautiful (plus a few other guests), and was recorded about the same time as the better-known (and also great) Cosmic Tones for Mental Therapy and Art Forms of Dimensions Tomorrow, even exhibiting the tape-delay reverb used to fine effect on those records. Typical of his music of the time, everyone doubles on percussion in addition to creating the texture and melody of the music with horns, bass, or, as one track would have it, “space voice.” But he hits it on the head with one title here – he’s not particularly interested in creating crafty bop charts, he’s interested in “Space Aura,” in creating an otherworldly soundscape for you to enter, and this is one of his most engaging (and least intimidating) outings he made. He’s got his usual devoted cast of horn players – John Gilmore, Marshall Allen, and Pat Patrick – plus the sturdy bass and drums of Ronnie Boykins and Tommy Hunter (plus the other guests) to help shape his visions, which – as noted – are among his most accessible and enjoyable outings from one of his most fertile periods. A great disc for aficionados to fill in an under-represented era of the band and a great way in to his utterly unique world for newcomers.

What Are You Listening to Lately (Part 7)?

OK, I know I promised I'd get things back on track quickly and clearly I've failed in that, but at least it's because I've been too busy to make it happen in a timely fashion. See below for proof:









I've thrown in a couple extra reviews to make up for it. Sorry. See you in the new year, where I will most assuredly be very regular with my reviews.


Squeeze - East Side Story
Probably their finest hour, giving them the most room stylistically to test Difford and Tilbrook's songwriting skills in pop-soul, pop-rockabilly, or pop-country modes (oh yeah, and plain ol' pop music mode, too). Partly this is thanks to producer Elvis Costello, who's playing the overseer role here and probably encouraged D&T to work outside of their comfort zones. They're rewarded with a bunch of sparkling touches that light up the record in a way they never quite managed before or after - weird keyboards on "Heaven," Paul Carrack's famed white-soul vocal on "Tempted," backwards effects on "There's No Tomorrow," the entire menacing and relentless drive of "F-Hole," all of which serve to make this one really stand out. Add in the sequencing that Costello may or may not have pushed for, the fine melodic sense that D&T always had and their way with the small personal details that make their songs felt and you've pretty much pieced together the finest collection of Squeeze music that you could hope for. It's not just good songs, it's the album as a sum greater than its constituent pieces.

(Note: since writing this, I found out that the album is out of print on CD. We almost always have the vinyl in stock used though, and I recommend that experience over the CD, anyway.)


Al Green - Lay It Down
A good one. Individual tracks don't jump quite as much as even on I Can't Stop, but it's a palpable rebound from the perfectly-titled Everything's OK. Production by ?uestlove's (of The Roots) and his choices of players/guests is pretty choice too, - though someone so steeped in the mode of laid-back 70's groove that Al pioneered damn well better be able to replicate it well. So if it's not as perfect as the best Al Green/Willie Mitchell collaborations it'd be good to remember that they weren't infallible themselves and that even without Mitchell alongside him, Green's done some brilliant stuff on his own. So think of it less as ?uestlove's move to lead Green than Green's move to find a simpatico partner after his rekindled relationship with Mitchell stalled again and realize that he's put together a fine record backed by a cache of musicians who owe their careers to the style of R&B that he and Mitchell made a reality. And that with a few more songs that stood out as well as the title cut, this album could really be something that makes me hot to go find it when it's on the shelf instead of just enjoying it when it happens to find its way on around me. I hope this signifies the beginning of a good working relationship and, more importantly, a great songwriting team.


John Coltrane - Transition
Right out of the gate the title track lets you know it means business – things start intense and build from there over the track’s 15 ½ minutes into the screechy end of the tenor’s range, which I love but I understand turns some people off to this music. As with everything of this era of Trane’s classic quartet, these guys are totally in synch with each other – they’ve got a perfect understanding of where they – collectively – are moving with each piece. So if they come right out with “Transition” and knock you into a daze, “Welcome” will be a nice relief. They’re still taking things seriously, but they’re also taking them a little more slowly, giving some breathing room. Next up is the 21+ minute “Suite,” which moves through five segments that to me just sound like five solo sections, but then I’m not in charge of naming these things. I think it’s a fine slice of late quartet-dom, but not as programmatically strong as the suites he’d begin organizing later on this year of their development, even if the interplay is top-notch. But things get brighter in the close-out with “Vigil,” a superb duet between Trane and the mighty Elvin Jones that for close to 10 minutes simply burns – here is where the roles McCoy Tyner and Jimmy Garrison play in the band start to become undermined; probably not a conscious move on Trane’s part, simply a piece of the transition he speaks of as he moves from one thing to the next in his development.

(Please note that this review treats the CD as though it were how the album was originally released and/or intended, though I am well aware that it consists of tracks added to and/or omitted from the original posthumous issue. But the recording sessions are close enough to each other that they can be considered very closely related and the sequencing of the CD is extremely well-done, creating perhaps more substance than was meant with the music, though obviously it does not fully obscure its somewhat fragmentary nature.)


Husker Du - Flip Your Wig
Bob Mould kills on the A-side of this while Grant Hart keeps a solidly lower profile throughout. Title track takes on both writers' views of impending stardom (that sadly never really came their way), then Grant's "Every Everything" sets the stage for Bob to introduce the greatest drum fill of the 80's, surrounded by one of his all-time best tunes and lyrics in "Makes No Sense At All" (which even to this day I think would adapt remarkably well to a twangy country reading, but never mind...). Up next - Bob's quick and catchy "Hate Paper Doll." Grant follows with his fine love song "Green Eyes" and Bob kicks out one of his best power riffs in "Divide and Conquer," which also offers up the unique trick of holding out on delivering its chorus until the very end. Bob's "Games" closes the side out with something more generic, offering a glimpse of what's to come on the second side, where the tables turn and Grant gets to showcase his best stuff while Bob flounders a bit. There Bob gives us "Find Me" and "Private Plane" while Grant steps it up with "Flexible Flyer" and the heartfelt "Keep Hanging On." They both throw out a goof in "The Baby Song" and close the record on two solid if unspectacular instrumentals that leave authorship uncertain. Grant is concerned mainly with relationships throughout - and maybe Bob is too sometimes, though he makes his words ambiguous enough that even when they're clearly directed at another person his meanings are still opaque. On the first side where he's as catchy and riff-happy as any point in his career the opacity doesn't bother me; on the flip where structure, noise and forward motion take the place of melody, I balk a little. Grant, on the other hand, starts out slow and makes gains with each song on the album, ending things on a high with his vocal performance in "Keep Hanging On." The instrumentals provide enough auditory damage and guitar madness to keep fans on their earlier work happy, but I think that their tune sense was improving around this time and that they put all the pieces - noise, tune, vocals, words - together better on their next one, even if it doesn't sport a "Makes No Sense At All" to anchor it. A solid record that's about 50% great, 50% good, but they did melody better next time out and noise better last time out.



Bill Evans - Alone
No multi-tracking, no band, just Evans solo, playing four across the A-side and one extended slice of genius over the B. The CD offers up alternate versions of all five tracks plus another two solos from the same sessions - a standards medley and the lone Evans original of the set. The original album though remains the focus. The shorter songs are lovely - nothing is terrifically fast here (it is, after all, Bill Evans), but they're not languorous either, just thoughtful, introspective, lovely. But when the 14:34 of "Never Let Me Go" kicks off, you know you're in for a ride. Evans states the song's melancholy melody and begins to spin off his improvisations, alighting regularly to restate the melody only to fly off again. If anything, it's too short for me at 14 1/2 minutes. I could listen to him work it over for 20 minutes easily. I guess that's where the bonus tracks come in again, offering up 10 1/2 more minutes of the song (and of course, the other alternates). There's not a lot of solo Bill out there, so it's good that this particular record is a pretty damn fine one.

What Are You Listening to Lately (part 6)?

Sorry I've slacked folks. Holidays, film festival, and other stuff (including laziness) conspired to keep me down. I promise I'll get back on track. I swear it.

Franco – African Classics
First disc is a chronological mess, while the second runs more or less in order (with a couple jumps). But the music makes it across the board, and it’s nice for me to pick up my third Franco “Best of” collection with minimal overlap with the other two. And what’s that? Liner notes that not only tell you a little about each piece, but tell you which CD the track is on, should you choose to follow through on some favorites? The amateur ethnomusicologist/collector nerd in me is in heaven! Only drawback for me is that not every track is as killer as on competing best ofs – the great-but-out-of-print The Very Best of Franco or the equally great and still in print The Rough Guide to Franco (or the brand-new Francophonic, just released last week to right the wrong Stern's made when they took Very Best of out of print). But for two in-print, domestically available discs studded with greatness and always delivering joy at a single disc price, it seems foolish if not downright stupid of me to even mention that it’s less consistent. It’s pretty great throughout, and if my taste favors the dancy, guitar-heavy 70’s and 80’s material while this even-handedly represents the rumba-leaning 50’s and 60’s, that’s my problem. Get it if you have the slightest inkling that you’d enjoy it.

Run DMC – Raising Hell
More consistent than the debut, though nothing here is as startlingly brilliant as “Rock Box” or “Sucker MC’s.” Even so, it’s brimming with a confidence and verve their sophomore effort lacks and from first beat to last they rarely step wrong. As a crossover move, “Walk This Way” was (and still is) a stroke of genius – or at least it was a stroke to get Tyler and Perry on board for the ride. The song slays – great original turned into great cover, and Tyler sounds as comfortable in this setting as the guys from Hollis (a great shot in the arm for his commercial potential of the day, too). What used to be the A-side is a great sequence – perfect opener in “Peter Piper” to the back-to-back anthems of "It’s Tricky” and “My Adidas” to the aforementioned “Walk This Way” to a slight cooldown with the short, funky hit of “Is It Live” and the totally live-in-the-studio feel of “Perfection.” The former B kicks almost as hard, dipping in quality only on “Dumb Girl” (it’s still funky tho) and letting up the intensity only for the jokey humor of “You Be Illin’,” but making up for any flaws with one of the best and most out-there pieces of music they ever essayed – “Proud to Be Black.” In a way, that song is the statement of purpose of both album and career for these guys, summing up in a few succinct phrases and wild scratches what the braggadocio of not even just their own career, but all of this era of rap had as its unspoken subtext – unspoken until now, of course. Shoulda been a single, though songs with “motherfucker” in them don’t get on the radio often. And the singles here signified plenty on their own. Backed by the deeper album cuts, it makes for a damn near flawless listening experience and what may in the long run prove to be their finest album.

Stereolab – Mars Audiac Quintet
My second most favorite by Stereolab though I’d point out that I’m not really to be trusted since A) I pretty much stopped picking up new albums by them somewhere around the turn of the millennium and B) I think that all their albums except the divine Emperor Tomato Ketchup are of more or less equal quality (high). But some – this one, for example – are slightly more equal and find their way into my listening more regularly than others. This fact is helped along by little strokes like the terrific lyrics of “Wow and Flutter,” the Krautrock influence that puts a fine, artsy, electro-acoustic sheen on things, and the brilliance of “Des Etoiles Electroniques,” a little slice of heaven which just floats above and beyond the rest of the record. A shame it comes in so early – would’ve made a nice linchpin in the middle of the record. But it’s pretty great throughout – more rock-heavy than later albums would prove to be, yet infused with the breathy melodiousness that makes it seem lighter than air, a fact punctured by the seriousness of the lyrics: usually political, always leftist, often in French. It’s one of the best spoonfuls of sugar they’ve created to make their socialist medicine go down.

What Are You Listening To Lately (Part 5)?

See older posts for description of this regular column.



Orchestra Baobab – Made in Dakar
The title really says it all – while they still show influence from all over Africa, the Caribbean, and beyond, this record more than any other I’ve heard by them subsumes those influences into a sound that’s straight out of Senegal, paying respect to the dominant mbalax style of Senegalese music even if it’s not the only sound you hear. About half the songs date to the 70’s or earlier – updating traditional songs and older pop music is one of the hallmarks of Orchestra Baobab’s style – but if you didn’t grow up with them you’ve never guess the vintage of these tunes simply by listening. Nor would you be able to guess from the energy level here that many of these players had been at it for nearly 40 years as Orchestra Baobab – but you could guess from the easy rapport they have with each other. At times it’s like the songs are merely an extended sequence of conversations on different subjects (lyric trots in English provided in liner notes). Especially notable are the (instrumental – in both senses of the word) voices of Issa Cissoko on saxophone and bandleader Barthelemy Attisso on guitar – these two have always taken the lead roles in the music of Baobab over the years and their camaraderie here characterizes the learned, laid-back feel that’s still charged with energy throughout. Between their last album Specialist in All Styles (fitting title, that) and this one, they seemed to have tapped into some kind of magical pipeline for great music they can turn on at will – though they don’t abuse the privilege. It’s got an elder statesman vibe that never feels aged, they just lay the shit down like they’ve got nothing to prove. Which at this point, they don’t – they’re acknowledged masters. One of the best recordings to hit the U.S. shores in 2008.


George Russell – Ezz-Thetics
There’s something wonderful and evocative about Russell’s music that I can’t quite pin down (and I’m not about to dive deep into musical theory just to dig his ‘Lydian Concept’). It keeps me a little confounded but it also draws me back to give another shot at understanding things – or following them, anyway – next time I pull this out for a listen. Of course, if you’ve read many of my reviews, this is basically a paraphrasing of what my favorite art does – holds out a little mystery while keeping me wanting to go back for more. Even without the mighty Eric Dolphy on hand, I would find this record enjoyable, but Dolphy always bumps the value of a record up a bit and it’s his extended solo on “’Round Midnight” here that is the record’s crowning moment. But it’s followed not far back in quality by a great “Nardis” and Russell’s own great title cut. His other two compositions (plus trombonist Dave Baker’s “Honesty”) also get off great moments – written and/or played with that unique approach that keeps me a lot intrigued and a little baffled. I don’t “get” it yet, but I love it, and part of that love probably comes from not getting it.


Postal Service - Give Up
I dunno, maybe it’s really better than I give it credit for – it’s catchy as hell, mildly experimental, smart. I think if I had been in or just out of college when this came out it might have a permanent spot on my top ten – at least until I hit my mid-30’s. But I feel about it the way I feel about probably 90% of the smart indie rock that crosses my ears – I can recognize the intelligence and respect the craft, but it feels like it was meant for someone else. Had I come to this another time, I’d probably parse these lyrics the way I do Talking Heads and Eno. I like it, I really do. I enjoy it every time I have an opportunity to hear it. I think it’s a cool idea and a great execution – Gibbard and Tamborello are a real simpatico pair who could even have been in the same studio (but of course weren’t) and not done any better. But even though they’re both roughly my age, I feel a little old listening to it. The more I think about it though, the more I think it's the indie rock equivalent in pop-experimental sensitivity of Upstairs at Eric's.

What Are You Listening To Lately (Part 4)?

I think I speak for many record store employees when I say that the most dreaded question a customer can ask is “What are you listening to lately?” Most of us are on our own strange little personal journeys that are miles away from what anyone else we know is interested in. But I can promise you, we all have a pretty similar reaction when that question comes up: we brace ourselves and usually throw back a quick "What have YOU heard lately that you've liked?", because it would take too long to explain exactly what we’re actually listening to lately and why. With that in mind, here's a snapshot of what I have actually been listening to lately – what’s in the walkman, on the stereo, what I’m picking when I’m at work, and what I’ve been playing when I’m in the shower.

Various - The Indestructible Beat of Soweto
This blew a lot of people’s minds when it came out, but mine wasn’t one of them. Rather than having my music-world shattered by the realization that there were vibrant, thriving pop music scenes elsewhere in the world, this was part of my growing up/learning process. Not literally this album, mind you, but those P. Simon/P. Gabriel/T. Heads records that sent people out looking for this album or others like it were ingrained into my teenaged pop music DNA the way that the Shangri-Las and Jan & Dean are part of the Ramones’ DNA. So I just accepted this as part of the pop norm when I found my indirect way into it via the Art of Noise working alongside Mahlathini and the Mahotella Queens. I’m telling you this not to tout some false sense of a superior position, but to note that it means that I came to this strictly as music, not a cultural phenomenon – Apartheid was over and Mandela freed by the time I actually picked this record up - and I still find it to be an absolutely superb example of how a compilation can work to summarize/anthologize a scene, a musical movement, a socio-political phenomenon, and also how easy it is for music in a language that the listener doesn’t understand to vault over any resistances and hit you right in the gut. It’s universal. And knowing the circumstances under which the music was made only pushes my admiration and enjoyment up to the nth degree. And if you’ve never heard anything like this, it may well blow your fucking mind.


Los Lobos – Colossal Head
I’m at a loss to understand why this in considered a lesser Los Lobos album while Kiko is revered as a high point in their career. Kiko trades heavily on atmosphere (provided by engineer Tchad Blake and producer Mitchell Froom, whose slightly bent take on Americana suits these modern traditionalists (traditional modernists?) to a T) while this one refines the formula and offers up better songs to boot. There’s nothing on Kiko with half the energy of the ebullient “Mas Y Mas,” no lyric there with the weary depth of “Revolution” or that spills over with the joy of “Life Is Good.” And don’t get me wrong, I think Kiko is great, I just think this one’s better and more potent, like a concentrated reduction of everything that went into Kiko – experimentalism, ambience, energy, great playing. Why, it's just about as good as the Latin Playboys first album.


Parliament – Mothership Connection
The album opens and closes with brilliance, but that middle stretch is totally pro forma P-Funk. Luckily, those three tracks are also the shortest (and also luckily, pro forma P-Funk has still got the goods for dancing), and I give G. Clinton et al props for keeping the theme of the album going, for making them of a piece with the better material that surrounds them, even if they’re lesser by comparison. And those four great once are pretty titanic slices of funk – starting with the stoned radio DJ rap of “P. Funk (Wants to Get Funked Up)” and moving directly into the album’s central theme/title track “Mothership Connection (Star Child),” in which Clinton and co. suggest vaulting over Earth’s problems into the cosmos. Closing out the B-side (or the CD) they offer up one of the their most durable and popular grooves, “Give Up the Funk (Tear the Roof Off the Sucker)” and the ridiculous “Night of the Thumpasorus Peoples,” a trifle they probably slapped together in the studio that has proven to be inexhaustibly entertaining (to me at least) over the decades. They’re more consistent elsewhere in their catalog, but they’ve rarely ever peaked as high as the best of what they offer here.

What Are You Listening To Lately (Part 3)?

I think I speak for many record store employees when I say that the most dreaded question a customer can ask is “What are you listening to lately?” Most of us are on our own strange little personal journeys that are miles away from what anyone else we know is interested in. But I can promise you, we all have a pretty similar reaction when that question comes up: we brace ourselves and usually throw back a quick "What have YOU heard lately that you've liked?", because it would take too long to explain exactly what we’re actually listening to lately and why. With that in mind, here's a snapshot of what I have actually been listening to lately – what’s in the walkman, on the stereo, what I’m picking when I’m at work, and what I’ve been playing when I’m in the shower.

John Lee Hooker – Travelin’
I know that John Lee Hooker stomping, singing and playing guitar by himself is the archetypal version of JLH, but I have to admit that I love it when he deigns to have a bass and drums (and sometimes another guitar) with him, as was often the case on the early 60’s Vee-Jay albums he did. Even though they don’t exactly add anything to the music – they follow his lead at all times and are, as such, more ornamental than fundamental in the music – I still love the way a cymbal ringing along with him sounds, the way a snare sounding off on the two and four sounds. Also delightful for me is the way each of these songs fades out with John Lee usually still singing, as though each track is but a snatch out of a continuum of rhythms over which he plays the ultimate raconteur, telling his stories now with his voice, now with his guitar; the fade kicks in and we skip ahead to the next chapter in his stories of love and loss on the road. He’s made more dynamic songs, sure, but as a full album, very few from his catalog are of a piece the way this great one is.


Das EFX – Dead Serious
Though you may get a little tiggidy-tired of their shtick by track 10, you gotta admit that it’s a hell of a gimmick and tough to do, too – more an intricate and (for me at least) largely entertaining circus act than an empty set of smoke and mirrors or some sleight-of-hand parlor trick. And maybe it never again hits the highs that “Mic Checka” (track 1) and “They Want EFX” (track 3) do, but it never loses momentum, never loses the all-important sense of humor they’d be lost without. It starts strong, goes all out for humor, hooks and gross out (humorously delivered, of course) for the first half, then takes it easier for side two – or maybe I just get a little tiggidy-tired by track 10 myself. But persevere – track 10 itself is great, so try not to wear down before it’s over. It was only good enough to (sorta) take as the title of their follow-up. Besides, the rest of that second half is pretty damn good in its own right, it’s just in the wake of the first half that it doesn’t quite dazzle.


Wayne Shorter – The Soothsayer
Like Et Cetera, this album sat in the can for over a decade and in listening it’s tough to understand exactly why – must’ve fit somebody’s marketing plan of the day. Even so – 1980 is a little long to have waited for these spring ’65 sessions. But blah blah blah, spilt milk and all that – I guess by the high standards Shorter had set with his incredible string of 1960’s Blue Note albums, this is a lesser session that could wait for release, rather than being shot out hot on the heels of the masterpiece Speak No Evil. The song “Angola” is spectacular – a fast one in which Shorter, James Spaulding, and Tony Williams simply blow the roof off (I mean, Wayne does in typically oblique Shorter-esque fashion, of course). “Lady Day” is a lovely ballad which Bob Blumenthal’s notes for this edition call “a haunting ballad in the vein of ‘Infant Eyes’” to which I’d add “only not quite as haunting, because it’s less melancholy, if no less beautiful.” The waltzes that begin and end the regular album are pretty great too; one a Shorter original that drives home one of Blumenthal’s other points about the record (I’ll get to that); the other a lovely arrangement of Sibelius’s “Valse Triste.” Bluementhal’s notes point out that (Freddie) Hubbard, Spaulding and (McCoy) Tyner, all first-class players, may not be intimidated by the challenges of the music, but none of them are able to play out the implications (of the compositions) as fully as Shorter himself.” And that’s what I alluded to earlier – while everyone here is able to approach Shorter’s unusual writing and solo on his tunes with gusto, he’s the only one who sounds fully at home with the compositions – well, in the soloing at least. Maybe it’s just that his approach to soloing is as idiosyncratic as his writing, but that’s the way it sounds. Everyone in this terrific group sounds great here – Wayne Shorter just sounds better.


Sonic Youth – Evol
This is Sonic Youth right on the cusp of their breakthrough – Steve Shelley’s in place, nearly every track gives up something like a hook (or at least a really memorable bit) – and if it managed to rise up just a little bit more, if the best bits peaked just a touch higher, it’d be major and not just “good.” As it is, the singles – “Star Power” and “Expressway to Yr Skull” – kill, their best moments on record to this point of their career. Not too far behind are “Tom Violence” and the odd little “In the Kingdom #19.” The rest sounds good, but the feel just one push short of really making it. A shame that not all turntables respond to the lock groove that closes things – having that comforting electric drone flesh out the final 11 minutes or so of the Evol side of a Sonic Youth C-90 was a very nice thing. CD version also includes bonus material – “Bubblegum” is a great cover I’ve never heard the original of. Glad they chose it for this. I just take my mental rating down a half notch because they could’ve replicated that lock groove on CD if they really wanted to. I’m not sentimental about “original vinyl” stuff, but that’s one gimmick I really liked.