Friday, February 27, 2009

Scott Walker - 30th Century Man


Perhaps the recent Scottumentary 30th Century Man, will answer some of these burning questions-

Why are people so obsessed with someone most people have never heard of?

Why, in the 90s, did English tabloid giant The Sun offer a cash prize for anyone to take a recent photograph of Scott?

Why would anyone care?

Why did Scott's group The Walker Brothers have more members in its fan club than that of the Beatles?

Why did Scott quit this group and join a monastery?

Why did Scott sing songs by Flemish art songsmith Jacques Brel on prime time TV?

Why and how did Scott sell records to teenagers and housewives, with lyrics based on Bergman films and Camus novels?

Why have Scott's albums in the last 25 years been utterly and impenetrably weird?

Why do David Bowie, Brian Eno, Radiohead and Jarvis Cocker love Scott so much?

Why did Julian Cope release a compilation of Scott tracks subtitled “the godlike genius of...”?

How is it possible for Scott to look so good at 65?

Why are Scott's solo albums from the 60s considered by many intelligent people to be among the great works of art of the 20th century?

What does “stump of a drowner” really mean?

Go and see 30th Century Man (Playing at the Starz FilmCenter March 6 – 12) and find out.
Note - Twist & Shout's Twisted Spork Club Card members can get 2-for-1 tickets by presenting their Club Card at Starz Film Center.

SCOTT WALKER: 30 CENTURY MAN Directed by Stephen Kijak (USA/UK, 2007, 35mm, 95min)


Thursday, February 26, 2009

What's in the Bin? - February 26th, 2009

One of the sheer joys of being in an indie record store is browsing the bins. Just starting somewhere, flipping through things, pulling out items that catch your eye, giving a few of them a test spin. So in the seventh of a hypothetical series, I've browsed the "New Arrivals" bins here at Twist & Shout, picked out a few things, and gave them a listen. The nature of used record stores being what it is, I can't promise these items will still be in the bin by the time you get here. But hey, browse the bin anyway. You might find something else of worth.


CD - Rod Stewart - The Definitive Rod Stewart
There's a certain type of Rod Stewart fan. Those who, when they first hear the words "Rod Stewart", immediately flash onto songs like "Handbags and Glad Rags." Who still think of Rod as "that guy from the Faces."

Those fans probably don't need me to tell them this, but they're gonna want avoid this disc like the plague.

For the rest of us, this two-CD set is about as good a collection as you're bound to get. It obviously uses the pop singles chart as a basic guide, so there's a lot more MTV hits than "classic early sides." But I don't consider than necessarily a bad thing. Yeah, I understand that, oh, "An Old Raincoat Will Never Let You Down" is a "better" song than, say, "Some Guys Have All the Luck." Yeah, "Tonight I'm Yours (Don't Hurt Me)" is a really dumb song. The lyrics are horribly contrived even from a "let's have a one night stand" perspective, the weird high-pitched "whoo"s at the end sound like a four-year-old girl on a roller coaster, and the synth lines were already sounding dated back when the song came out in 1981. But you know what? I still like the damn thing. I recall watching the I-guess-this-is-sexy video back in the day, and wanting a neat shiny pink vinyl jacket and visor combo like Rod sported. And I wanted to have a fun bikini-clad party at a Best Western, too, culminating with me pushing my guitarist into the swimming pool at the end of the night. These are the sorts of weird but fun memories that "Raincoat" just can't deliver. Pile on top of that all the memories (or baggage) concerned with "Young Turks" and "Tonight's the Night (Gonna Be Alright)" and all the rest, and you might understand why I'd drag this CD off the rack more often than Every Picture Tells a Story.

No, of course the collection isn't "definitive." There's that obligatory "new" song at the end that isn't worth much. And even I think it gives the early years short shrift. And there's a lot of later stuff that I don't really need to hear. But then again, there's probably a guy about ten years younger than me who has similarly weird memories about "Rhythm of My Heart" and "Downtown Train" to those I have about "Passion." In which case, good for him.


LP - Neil Norman & His Cosmic Orchestra - Greatest Science Fiction Hits (Volumes 1 & 2)
Neil Norman has a pretty odd gig. Well, he's a bigwig at GRP/Crescendo Records (the home of these two recordings), but it's his other gig that's the real strange one. Imagine going to a science-fiction convention (or, if you've actually done this, think back to your last visit). Now imagine a group of people in silvery spacesuits, playing lounge-y/future-y versions of classic sci-fi themes. Well, the head guy in silver is Neil Norman. That's his gig. Playing sci-fi songs at sci-fi conventions, and anywhere else there's a market for guys in silver spacesuits playing sci-fi songs. And Neil's been doing it for almost three decades.

These two LPs are from the start of his career, and it pretty much set the stage for what came after. It was as the 70s gave way to the 80s, and Star Wars found a much larger audience for sci-fi than anyone thought possible. On each LP, Neil works this to his advantage, performing arrangements of various sci-fi tunes. The track selection is rather broad - it ranges from the obvious ("Close Encounters") to the obscure ("Phantom Planet") to the bizarre ("Can You Read My Mind" from Superman), and he even finds time to perform a couple of originals ("Not of This Earth," "Vampire Planet") that fit in quite well. The term "Orchestra" may be a bit of a stretch, but he does have fourteen musicians credited, so it's certainly more than just "a guy and his keyboard." And how does it sound? Well, as good as it possibly can, I guess. The band is quite good, the tunes are often deftly arranged, and Neil even adds some killer guitar solos here and there. But, you know, it still comes down to that basic fact - these are future-y versions of classic sci-fi themes. There seems to be some limit as to how high this stuff can climb. To his credit, Neil generally gets to that point, even if he can't transcend it. I think these albums would make great background music for a fun party. Assuming your friends have a bit of a sense of humor, anyway.


12" - Earons - "Land of Hunger"
The 80s nostalgia kick seems to be ending, which is fine. Not that I didn't love the 80s and all, but I've gotten to the point where my memories of the Flock of Seagulls are more of people talking about how dumb Mike Score's haircut in the "Space Age Love Song" video looked than they are of...well, "Space Age Love Song." And that's why it's fun to come across a song or band that really wasn't touched by the 80s nostalgia kick.

And yes, I'm totally aware that I'm about to ruin that for this song. Pretty meta. Anyway.

The Earons were yet another new wave band with a gimmick, but theirs was at least simple to set up and maintain. In the genre where image was at least as important as substance, the Earons went with a "non-image." The band only appeared in white jumpsuits and motorcycle helmets, and individual members were to be referred only by number. (The lead vocalist? 28.) The music's pretty good - a reggae-influenced synth-based dance song with "aware" lyrics. Three versions of that song might be a bit of overkill, but considering that this song isn't one you stumble across on "Best of the 1980s" albums, it's probably worth picking up. The song did hit number one on the dance chart in 1984, but the band was pretty well forgotten a year later. But that's what makes the song so fun. Everyone remembers "Come On Eileen," and not everyone is going to instantly remember the tune. However, this IS the sort of song that will make some people stop, open their eyes wide, and say "Oh YEAH!" And that's always a fun feeling.

Friday, February 20, 2009

Otis Taylor interviewed by Paul Epstein

Otis Taylor is a study in paradox. He is an immense, imposing man physically, yet he rarely speaks above a whisper. When we had lunch recently to conduct an interview about Black History Month, he had to repeat every single word he said to the waiter. It is common to see people leaning forward trying to understand him. He has a sophisticated understanding of antiques, being a successful dealer for years(specializing in Indian blankets), yet he favors a low brow lifestyle. “I don’t want any ‘salad-mexican food.’ Take me somewhere where they use hamburger meat.” He has a keen understanding of the history of music in all its forms, but he favors a hypnotic, primitive form of roots music that defies the Blues categorization he is tagged with. He has created his own language of music, such as Fela Kuti or John Lee Hooker did, completely unique to himself and answerable only to his own aesthetic desire. In other words, Otis doesn’t give a fuck what anybody thinks - never has, never will. As a musician, as a citizen, as a human he marches to his own beat. So, as we ate our Mexican food, the paradoxical Black Man with blue eyes answered my questions about Black History Month the way he saw fit.

Paul: How different is being Black in America in 2009 compared to when you, your father or your grandfather were kids?
Otis: Well the good part is we are freer. The bad part is we fear our own people...gangbangers etc.

P: What do you think the current Black legacy on the arts is compared to 50 or 100 years ago?
O: Now you can speak your mind versus 100 years ago when a Black man couldn’t say a fuckin’ thing. The legacy is freedom. This White or Black thing, it’s all crap...it’s colorblind. In my case, I just didn’t know any better. I had no fear of failure.
I’m the guy who left the village a thousand years ago. I’m a genetic outliner.

P: Do you have an obligation to tell the story and keep the memories alive?
O: No, it’s just my experience. Hungry people can be White, Black, Russian...it doesn’t matter. Some of my better songs are about White people.

P: What about the legacy of the Blues?
O: I don’t know much about the Blues, but I’m good at being Black. I’m not a fuckin’ historian, I’m just old. And I’m not bitter, it’s just my reaction to life. I’m outspoken so I piss everybody off. I’ve been able to succeed by being obscure. Like my Banjo album (Recapturing The Banjo - Taylor’s critically lauded traditional Banjo album) I wasn’t disappointed that it got no attention. The critics loved it, but that’s the kiss of death. The movie people are starting to take me seriously. (Taylor refers to some soundtrack work he has been doing).

P: Are you part of the Blues continuum?
O: In my mind yes.

P: Are you the “other” or in your mind are you a part of American mainstream life?
O: I’m always Black. If you’re White and you see me it’s “Oh shit who’s that.”

P: Yet you live in one of the Whitest places on Earth. (Boulder, CO.)
O: I wasn’t getting out of Black culture, I was getting’ out of Dodge, you know what I mean? It was like the Irish got out of Ireland. Money follows money. Black people are tight with their money because they never had nothing, so they are tight with their money. I didn’t leave my experience behind, you take the best things from all cultures through your own filter. My childhood was fucked up. I got outta dodge.

P: Describe what Barack Obama being elected means to you and to all of us.
O: It’s gonna be harder to play the race card. There will be the same amount of racism, it’ll just be harder to call now. Those Republicans are after him. Don’t forget, over 40% of Americans didn’t vote for him. I don’t think being a Democrat or Republican is important. No, I think being a human being is important.

P: Do you envision a time when being Black will be invisible to the eyes of our society?
O: If you’re African you’re invisible. That’s some beatnik shit for you right there man. I live a dual life. When I travel in the South with my light-skinned daughter it’s a scandal; people staring at us, etc. But when I travel with my daughter who is the same shade as me, it’s “oh what a lovely family.” You remember that Star Trek episode with the guys who were half White and half Black? It’s like that. These differences just exist in our society. Look at the Irish, killing each other for years and you can’t even tell the difference between them. Same with Suni and Shia Arabs. Humans seem genetically programmed to hate someone. Make war on someone, that’s Mother Nature’s shit.

P: In spite of all this, you show incredible awareness of being Black.
O: Like I have a choice motherfucker!

And with that we changed subjects to music, touring Europe, antiques, and any other subject that crosses Otis’ mind. He is an unexpected, unique thinker. There are no stereotypes in his world. Everything is just another moment to be dealt with in the now. Unlike so many people I have met, Otis Taylor doesn’t live in a past of injustice or slavery, or in a future of grand success and acceptance. Otis lives right now.

http://www.otistaylor.com/

Friday, February 13, 2009

Valentine's Day recommendations from Twist and Shout!


Alf
My sweetheart already has everything. All that's lacking is something to tote everything around in. Preferably something with pigs on it. Pigs making pancakes would be ideal.








Adam R.This Valentine's Day, all you need is love...and Philip Norman's acclaimed new biography of John Lennon. We all shine on.









Extra Kool
The best thing to give your loved one for Valentine's Day is a nice case of Chlamydia, or Gonorrhea... well, maybe not. But the cuddly stuffed toys made by Giant Microbes of chlamydia or gonorrhea are a sure win. What girlfriend doesn't want to tell her friends that she got an STD for Valentine's Day? Or at least a stuffed one...



Natasha
Not that I HAVE a sweetheart, but if I did- I would buy them music!!!You would have to love music to be MY sweetheart! I would give them one of my favorite local bands like Bela Karoli, Ian Cooke, Roger Green or Porlolo. What could say I love you more than an album filled with beautiful songs! Luckily Bela Karoli and Ian Cooke will be playing the Hi-Dive for Valentines Day, so maybe I will see all you music lahvahs there!



Ben S.
ROBYN HITCHCOCK - I WANNA GO BACKWARDS 8 LP set --
I knew my wife was the one for me, when she was able to sing the SYD BARRETT's unreleased masterpiece "Vegetable Man" from memory. Of course, she knew it from THE SOFT BOYS' version, but that's cool too. Her taste for quirky English guys is self evident.




Doug
For my Valentine's Day recommendation I would have to say, if you haven't already picked it up, the new Raphael Saadiq record, The Way I See It, is a good gift. It has songs that are fun, catchy, romantic, but not too syrupy sweet (yuck!). On CD, vinyl, and limited edition 45's of the entire album.







Pat
My sweetheart enjoys all things Pekkle. That's the adorable little Sanrio duck character. And when is a bad time to get a nice pen? You should always have a pen on hand.









Paulie
The perfect new Valentine's litmus test: If she don't dig Burroughs, run.

Mark Farina in-store Saturday the 14th (St. Valentine's Day) at 5PM!

Just a last minute heads-up in case you didn't already know - DJ Mark Farina, one of the gods of downtempo music (and house music, and electronica...) in the United States, will be performing a short DJ set and signing autographs at our store starting at 5PM on Saturday, February 14th.

He visited us a year and a half ago on 7/7/7 and spun for a couple hours, to the enjoyment of many. Tomorrow he's more limited on time but it's sure to be an action packed set. And be sure to make it to his nighttime show at Cervantes, where you'll get a heapin' helpin' of what you'll only have a taste of here.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

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.

Friday, February 6, 2009

Two films by Luis Buñuel

Luis Buñuel was a Spanish-born director who made less than five films in his native country, creating the bulk of his work in France and Mexico, which is where he filmed the latest two offerings from the Criterion Collection, The Exterminating Angel and Simon of the Desert. As a member of the Parisian surrealist group in the 1920’s, Buñuel liked to deal in imagery at once confusing and sometimes shocking – at least two of his films were banned in several countries for their scandalous content.

One of the key goals of the surrealists was not just to shock (though it was a favorite tactic) but to liberate thinking from what they perceived as the shackles that bound people to conventional thought. Buñuel was fond of attacking those institutions – social, governmental, and especially religious – that he felt were particularly responsible for providing and reinforcing those barriers to a freer mode of thinking and expression, of living. So it’s no surprise that many of his films circle around themes of frustration, wherein the protagonists find themselves unable for whatever reasons to satisfy even the simplest desires.

Take for example his 1963 masterpiece The Exterminating Angel. In it, a group of upper class citizens return from the opera to their host’s home for dinner. After dinner, they retire to the drawing room for some entertainment before going home. But no one leaves. Nothing physical prevents them from exiting the drawing room; they find that they simply can’t leave. At first it’s an annoying state of affairs, but as it continues for hours, days, weeks (perhaps months? It’s never made clear exactly how long it goes on) and things become more desperate all their well-bred social graces slowly fall away. They argue and fight, they covet neighbors’ wives, they panic, they commit suicide and attack one another – anything they can think of to survive in the room in which they’re trapped. Buñuel of course never clarifies or explains matters – this is simply a situation that exists and how these people respond in the resulting pressure cooker is what’s interesting, milked for black comedy as much as possible and laced throughout with satiric barbs. It’s possibly the finest realization of satirical wit married to more obscure surrealist free expression out of all of his 36 films.


A close second might be his short film Simon of the Desert that, in only 45 minutes, takes an equally humorous and scathing approach in its satire on religious piety, echoing The Exterminating Angel’s attack on bourgeois morals and manner. When Buñuel’s producer ran out of money halfway through production, the film was done. But the structure of his films, in which a central idea runs through like an endless railroad track on which any number of scenes can appear – getting off at an earlier station than originally intended still leaves us with the satisfaction of the journey we wanted. Here, a saint (Simon, played to pious perfection by Claudio Brook) sits atop a pillar in the desert to bring himself closer to God but true to Buñuel’s satiric form, this sort of strict adherence to dogma has no place in the real world. He performs miracles rated by onlookers as so-so, restores a thief’s severed hands only to have the thief’s first act with his new hands turn out to be the slapping of a boisterous child. While these scenes smack of the sort of disrespect bordering on blasphemy that gave his earlier works Viridiana and L'Age D'or such notoriety, it’s Buñuel’s clinical and intellectual (and secular) interest in the subject that also allows him to dryly and humorously explore the theological end of things. Simon is not merely there as an object to poke fun at for his inability to transform earthly matters, he’s also repeatedly tempted by Satan (in the form of actress Silvia Pinal), who appears and reappears in various guises, bringing us back to Buñuel’s interest in desire and frustration (in this case, self-inflicted). The point of all this is that Simon has bound himself to something that – like the class-bound diners of Angel – prevents him from experiencing his own life, from feeling the full range of his being by cutting himself off with his ascetic existence. When the devil finally takes him in the abrupt finale to a rock and roll club Simon doesn’t seem to be in hell, he merely seems disappointed in how mundane the real world can be, removed from the saintly struggles that gave him a sense of purpose.

Both of these films are high water marks for Buñuel and surrealist cinema in general. Both are being released by the Criterion Collection on Tuesday February 10th and are loaded with extras, including interviews on both DVDs with actress Silvia Pinal, interviews with Luis Buñuel from the 1970’s, critical essays, and more.

Friday, January 30, 2009

My adventure with Burning Spear in Jamaica

About three years ago I was sitting in my office doing what I do-ordering CDs etc.- when an employee's voice came over my intercom: “Paul there is a Sonia Rodney from Burning Spear on the line.” Luckily I knew that Burning Spear was actually a man named Winston Rodney, and I said “send her through.” On the other end of the line was what I might have called a caricature of a positive, upful Jamaican Woman addressing me as though we had known each other our whole lives. “Paul, oh my, it’s Sonia, Spear’s wife…you want any CDs?” I was flabbergasted. I knew immediately, I was, indeed speaking to the wife of one of my heroes. Winston Rodney, also known as Burning Spear is, in my opinion, the greatest living Reggae singer. He comes from the same generation as Marley, Tosh, Bunny, Scratch, you name it. He is part of the group of Reggae stars who, to me and many people of my generation, represent the essence of what this life-affirming genre of music has meant. Spear is the guy. Over the course of countless albums and thousands of life-changing concerts he has stayed true to the cause-musically, lyrically, spiritually, visually, Spear is the true Rastaman with a once-in-a-lifetime voice, an ineffable sense of rhythm and melody and an intellect informed by both the modern and the eternal. If you love and believe in Reggae, Spear is the beacon of truth.

So I start talking to Sonia. We connected immediately. I wanted nothing from her but to listen and help-she wanted nothing but to further her husband’s career. I told her I thought her husband’s work was amongst the most important in the history of modern music-similar to Dylan, Fela, The Beatles etc. and that she had a legacy to protect and promote that was both artistically and commercially unimpeachable. She told me they owned the rights to almost all of Burning Spear’s modern music and were trying to figure out what to do with it. I’m not sure why, but she mistook me for someone with power. We had hosted Burning Spear for a memorable instore performance back on Alameda Ave., but I barely got to speak to him then and assumed I was long forgotten. She did, however stumble upon a true and loyal fan. I had gotten turned on to Spear at the beginning of his career and had followed him with a private fervor that matched my love of any musician. I immediately purchased a little bit of everything she had and started trying to advise her about the modern music distribution network as I understood it. I encouraged her to keep control of her copyrights and don’t let the modern industry remove the soul and profit from her husband’s legacy. Obviously, she was way ahead of me-she knew what she had, yet was still interested in everything I said. I told her about a group of independent record stores that Twist and Shout is a member of called CIMS (Coalition of Independent Music Stores http://www.cimsmusic.com/) and that we had started our own distribution network that might offer her a short-term solution for the distribution of Burning Spear’s music. I gave her the appropriate contacts and she went on her way. I was three feet off the ground for the next couple of weeks-“I spoke to Burning Spear’s wife and she was awesome!

After a month or so I forgot about the encounter, but then was surprised when CIMS announced a distribution deal with Burning Spear. I was floored. After years of following an artist I had, in some small way, contributed to the evolution of his career. Wow!

Fast forward to October of 2008. The world is in turmoil. Business is unbelievably bad, and it seems that all is darkness. Out of the blue an email comes from Sonia Rodney. “Paul, you want to come to Jamaica?” I respond in a typically suspicious way; “Well sure, what are the details?” “You come, you’ll be Spear’s guest.” It went back and forth this way for some time, before I fully grasped what she was saying. She was inviting a few people who had helped her along the way to Jamaica in January, and Jill and myself were among the lucky. I continued to protest that I was broke and really couldn’t afford it, but she kept insisting, “everything paid for.” The next day, sure enough she sends plane confirmations. Also, she sends reservations for a place called The Caves. We looked up The Caves on the internet and it appeared to be one of the most unique and beautiful all-inclusive resorts in the world. I really couldn’t believe this was happening, but I filed it away and went forward with the Christmas of our discontent. It was a rough season for everyone in this country and in spite of the mild weather it seemed colder than any season in memory.

As the time approached, the enormity of the gift was starting to become clear to us. There was no agenda, no sales presentation, no nothing, just “come down and enjoy The Caves with your loved ones." Finally the day arrives and we take off for Jamaica. This has been a dream of mine since the early 70’s. I’ve loved Reggae music and have been fascinated with this small Island country with the big sound.

After a couple of long flights we landed in Montego Bay and were met by Spear’s personal driver, a ray of sunshine named Donald Pantry. Danny as we called him took us an hour away to the West end of the island and we entered The Caves. I can’t express adequately how beautiful and tranquil a place The Caves is. It is a series of beautifully appointed yet rustic cabins that sit on cliff above a bunch of caves created by the constant lapping of the crystal blue Caribbean waves. Within minutes we are in our shorts, drinking a rum drink and soaking up the incredible vibes.

That night around dinner time I hear a voice floating over the breeze. It is a loud joyous laughing voice and it could be nobody but Sonia Rodney. Finally we get to meet our benefactor. We see her approaching our small group and behind her there is the man himself-Burning Spear. Sonia embraces us warmly. She is a beautiful charismatic woman-bigger than life with dreads literally down to the ground. She is full of hugs and stories and interest in the music business. She is an amalgam of homespun Rasta warmth and New York chattiness. We learn she grew up in New York City and as a teenager caught the eye of Mr. Rodney who nurtured a loving relationship over many years, taking her children as his own and growing an admirable family that he has held as his emotional and business center. Sonia took over the business of Burning Spear in the early 80’s, turning a liability - “He would come home from tour more tired and more broke every year” - into a smartly run business that keeps the music and the message front and center. She was savvy and smart and conveyed her love with every laugh that seemed to come from a place deep down in her soul.

Throughout our hour long get–acquainted session Spear himself held back. He flashed the charismatic smile and kind of waved, but he was more comfortable talking to Danny and the people who worked at The Caves. As we wound down our conversation we all hugged and Spear came over and talked a little, encouraging us to enjoy The Caves and thanking us for being involved in his music. Then they were gone. We all (there were 7 of us) looked at each other and scratched our heads. It really seemed like they just wanted us to have a little vacation on them. We went about having a magical and relaxing time-eating the delicious Jamaican food, drinking the rum, sampling the local horticulture, etc. Jill told me on the second day that this was the most relaxed she had seen me in years, and it was true. We were actually able to forget about the horrendous economic conditions back home for a brief few days and enjoy. Throughout, I spent a lot of time listening to Burning Spear’s music and staring at the ocean. A very healing practice indeed. Spear’s music rivals any for a consistent, positive and morally righteous tone. It is not pop music, but a large and serious body of work that can be appreciated on many different levels. Just the short exposure to the man and the background of his music infused the trip with a magical air, yet I can’t say I wasn’t a little disappointed that I didn’t get any face time with Spear.

On our last full day we were sitting on the veranda of our cabin talking lazily about
nothing in particular when I see Winston Rodney walking toward us. What happened next seemed like a dream. Burning Spear walked up to our sitting area and sat down. He looked over at our bowl of ganj picked up a paper and rolled himself a neat little spliff and started to talk. It was a free-flowing hour of wide-ranging discussion. He quickly realized we were somewhat knowledgeable about the history of Jamaican music and his important part in that history and thus dispensed with any formality. He talked expansively about his early days and experiences with music men Jack Ruby and Chris Blackwell (who owns The Caves by the way). Unlike many of his contemporaries he had nothing but positive things to say about Mr. Blackwell, understanding the pivotal role Blackwell played in his career and in the development of Reggae music. He seemed to look at all of his history with a gently beneficent eye. There was no trace of bitterness or anger in anything he said. He spoke of his relationships with other musicians of his era. Hearing a tale of Marley growing his own “He was cultivatin’ mon” or the serious-minded Tosh or the architect of sound Scratch Perry or the early days at Studio One was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to gather a living history from one of the guys who made it happen. He knew these guys as peers and friends, not as legends or myths. They were his pals.

As the conversation moved lazily to his philosophy of life, Spear became more serious, leaning forward and fixing us with his gaze. He spoke of his motivations being history, teaching and art- not money. He was so clear about that. Money could not be the motivation for anything in his life. His art was propelled by the desire to leave a good example for future generations. He is a teacher, not a businessman. I think it is fair to say we were transfixed. During this part of the conversation he started talking about health. He is 64 and the only thing that tells you that is the grey in his beard. He is in remarkable physical shape. He runs and lifts weights almost every day. He always has a soccer ball in the car with him just in case. He says when he was younger he was an “exercise freak.” It shows. He has the body and demeanor of a man half his age. He made it clear that he rarely smoked any more, but at the same time he made some comments about the ganj that proved he was once a true herbsman. Like many great artists he had a manner and speech that was totally his own.

As our time together came to a close he pulled out his camera bag and withdrew a movie camera. “With you gentlemen’s permission, I would like to take a picture.” He wanted our picture? We joined our wives who had been convulsed with uproarious laughter with Sonia and we all stood in the Jamaican sunset and let Burning Spear take our pictures. The whole thing was so natural we barely remembered to take pictures of him. As quickly as it started it was over. They were gone, getting ready to go to their house in the same town Spear grew up in, and we were left with a wonderful feeling.

I have been lucky enough to meet quite a few of my heroes, and even had lengthy conversations with many of them, but this was the most special of all. Meeting a man like Burning Spear and having him live up to my incredibly high expectations was the greatest. I have always tried to separate the artist from the art and not place my own needs and desires on the artist. There was no need to make this separation with Winston Rodney. He has set the highest standard of musical excellence, and lyrical righteousness and he has lived a life that matches his artistic vision. I can say honestly, he was everything I hoped he’d be and so much more.

We left the idyllic setting of Jamaica and returned to 10 degree weather and equally chilly economic realities at home. Unlike other trips which are over the moment I step on the plane to go home, this one has provided a reservoir of healing spirit that I have been able to access as I need it. Thank you Spear! Thank You Sonia! Thank You Jamaica!

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.

Friday, January 23, 2009

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.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Animal Collective-Merryweather Post Pavillion


Animal Collective-Merryweather Post Pavillion

A couple of Tuesdays ago we experienced a weird phenomenon; weird not because it has never happened, but weird because it has not happened for such a long time. When we opened at 10:00 a.m. as usual, a rush of excited customers came in. They raced back to the vinyl section and pantingly grabbed the new double vinyl of Animal Collective. The CD was not coming out for a few weeks, and the vinyl came with a download code for the entire album. We sold out of our initial shipment in the first 30 minutes of being open. This has not happened for a vinyl release in years. It took us by surprise, but it really shouldn’t have, with each new release Animal Collective have proven themselves to be on an unpredictable and extremely ambitious artistic path. Their albums have been consistently hard to categorize, yet their fanbase grows by leaps and bounds with each new release. They have traditionally made little to no concessions to commercial viability, and their fame seems to be entirely fan and word-of-mouth driven. They have received some critical notice but it is always far away from the mainstream.
With Merriweather Post Pavilion they seemed poised to take their career to bigger places, although there is no whiff of sell-out.

Starting with the album cover we know we are in for a strange ride. It is one of those optical illusions that through the juxtaposition of shape, color and pattern gives the viewer the impression of movement. So, the record is almost literally crawling out of its sleeve to get at you. It is very cool.

Once the record is playing, the listener is taken on a voyage to beautiful, woozy, uneasy places. Animal Collective use some conventional instruments, but if you are looking for ripping guitar solos or virtuoso instrumental breaks-look elsewhere. The thing they do is create multi-layered clouds of sound. Lots of keyboards, samplers, pedals and electronic effects stack upon each other, teetering on top of lovely melodies and goofily insightful lyrics to create a very singular effect. It is like 100 foot day-glow daisies swaying lazily in the breeze It is almost impossible to listen to this band without becoming emotionally involved in the musicians’ particular state of mind. This is not background music-it is forebrain music. The album also has a kaleidoscopic effect on me as well. That is to say, every time I listen to it, it feels like the first time. It is vaguely familiar, but at the same time there is always a sense of discovery and freshness to it. This is a tall order for any album. To always sound new and interesting. How many records can you say that about these days.

Trying to describe Animal Collective’s music is not so easy. As I listen to them they paradoxically seem to have no antecedent and yet be achingly familiar at the same time. There are wisps of Beach Boys, Olivia Tremor Control, Erik Satie, My Bloody Valentine and every other unlikely, hipster juxtaposition you can think of. Unlike their other albums, however, Merriweather Post Pavilion never veers off into harsh territory. They never lose their ineffable sense of melody and beauty on this album. It is a hypnotic, pleasing experience throughout. As I listen to it I clearly have the sense of listening to something exciting and important, the kind of album that might light the imagination of a new generation of listeners.

For us, one of the most exciting parts is that these consumers actually seem to get the value of holding something physical in your hands. That simple fact that having “something” is inherently different and perhaps better than having “nothing” that costs as much as “something” is not lost on this group of fans.

--Paul Epstein

Friday, January 16, 2009

What Are You Listening to Lately (Part 8)?

Ornette ColemanTo 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.

Saturday, December 27, 2008

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.