Why Record Stores Matter

The other day a friendly gentleman approached the counter holding a record and wearing a smile. He held up a Charlie Parker 10” record on the Savoy label and said something to the effect of “this is my record.” According to the gentleman this record, this VERY record was purchased by him when it came out in 1948. Sometime in the ensuing 60 years he sold the record (he thought in California in the 70’s). Now, here in 2010 he is poking around one of the few places in the country it could possibly be, and lo and behold there it is. He points to his name written on the jacket, and a bunch of doodles on the back that he drew. “Yep it’s mine.” He purchased the record and left happily.

Now when this story came to me through an employee and I just about flipped out. This is exactly what I’ve been saying for years. The great tradition of second hand stores in this country act as more than just retail outlets - they are estuaries that collect the cultural castoffs, the flotsam and jetsam of our society, and then like putting a plain rock in a tumbler and having it come out a jewel, these items resurface later as little time capsules that not only still perform their original duties (in this case giving us the genius of Charlie Parker) but they also carry with them the smells, the feel, the secret messages of the life, or lives of those whose hands they passed through. In this case, the record was purchased 62 years ago - think of the worlds the original purchaser has come through since originally plopping down a buck or two for the record. Think of the all the lives that might have touched it since he sold it, and the journey the record itself took to find itself at Twist and Shout in 2010, and then back in its original owners’ hands. Think of all the life that the record was close to. It sat in living rooms while the world changed - it sat there during the Korean War, Vietnam, Woodstock, Watergate, Disco, 9/11, countless financial ups and downs. Not to mention the individual lives of the people who owned and loved it - Marriage? Divorce? Kids? Maybe a kid sold it to us after his father died. Maybe someone learned to play sax by listening to that record over and over. Maybe it was the last record someone listened to before leaving home. 

The image that keeps coming back to me is that of a message in a bottle. Someone throws it into the ocean in hopes that it will travel miles and come ashore to someone’s hands. It might contain a mystery, or a great love affair, or a buried treasure, but it is a romantic notion. That the bottle you throw in the ocean could wash up on shore next to YOU, years later, is almost too much to believe. But there it was, in the hands of the guy who originally bought it, with his original doodles on the back - just amazing. This is why we have and continue to need record stores. Where else could this happen?

--Paul Epstein

I'd Love to Turn You On #3: Screaming Blue Messiahs - Gun-Shy

We spend so much of our time buying, selling and listening to the latest releases that we sometimes forget to plumb the depths. Every one of us here got in to record store thing, at some level, because we have a deep interest and curiosity about all kinds of music. Most of us are collectors to some degree or another, and one of the abiding joys of collecting is to pull out the rare, beautiful, little known or downright obscure album and turn on a friend. Sometimes it's a classic that needs to be shined up and put back on the top shelf. With that in mind we are going to revive a column we used to include in our newsletters called, appropriately enough, I'd Love To Turn You On. This will give our super collectors and musical academicians to wax poetic about their favorite albums (or movie or book for that matter).

Some Rock n Roll bands are a given, a fixture. They are ensconced in your older brother's record collection. They pose, grinning, holding framed gold records. They sport sunglasses on the covers of music magazines. Then there are bands you see coming over the pop culture horizon. They take on familiar shapes, they are musically amiable. Another link in the chain of pop trendiness. But...sometimes a Rock n Roll band comes out of the blue. They jump up fully formed, Athena-like, out of the Rock God's head. The Screaming Blue Messiahs were just such a band.

Of course they came from somewhere. The Messiahs' background was specifically London, circa Pub Rock o'clock. But Gun-Shy was the 1986 debut LP, long out of print, but now reinstated courtesy of the Wounded Bird label. And what a debut! You would be hard pressed to find another first release sporting as much weird wit and power. Gun-Shy is one of those records that simply gets down to business...no hemming nor hawing about.

First track “Wild Blue Yonder” is a pretty good indication of what the group is all about. Bill Carter's guitar sports a nagging, ragged riff, Kenny Harris plays his drums wildly loose-limbed behind Chris Thompson's rumbling bass line. What really grabs your attention, though, is Carter's half menacing, half comic vocal. You can hear similarities to Joe Strummer, but he is definitely one of those Rock front men who are a unique presence, driving the band by force of personality. The Messiahs were a loud, aggressive band, but the stoic, bald Carter dominated all proceedings.

Several Gun-Shy tracks display a rockabilly influence (albeit warped), coupled with Carter's Americana lyrical fixations. On the sole cover, they soak Hank Williams' “You're Gonna Change” in reverb. Raucous tunes “President Kennedy's Mile” and “Twin Cadillac Valentine” invoke a brew of cultural tropes; guns, cars and biblical wrath. Elsewhere, as on “Smash the Market Place,” the Messiahs’ stellar rhythm section make the rock downright danceable, not unlike mid-period Clash. On paper, I fear all these different elements - pop, dance, punk, twang, hard rock - sound of a case of too many cooks in the kitchen. Trust me though, on Gun-Shy (and the equally great subsequent albums Bikini Red and Totally Religious) The Screaming Blue Messiahs created potently exciting Rock music.
-Brian

Preservation-An Album To Benefit Preservation Hall & The Preservation Hall Music Outreach Program

With the attention on the great city of New Orleans that has surfaced since the tragedy of Katrina and now the celebration of the amazing Super Bowl victory of The Saints, the time seems perfect for this release. The music of New Orleans has rightfully been singled out as the city's greatest contribution to culture, and the Preservation Hall Jazz Band are emblematic of one of the more important facets of that music. Their traditional, perfectionist take on brass band jazz sets the standard and keeps the tradition beautifully preserved for future generations. Preservation pairs the band with a variety of contemporary artists to glorious results. The list of artists is varied, drawing from rock, folk, bluegrass and world music to create a whole that shines a light on the joyous feelings the Preservation Hall Jazz Band bring to whatever they are playing.

Kicking off with Andrew Bird and moving to Paolo Nutini (two pretty distinctive modern artists) it is immediately apparent that the guest artists involved will be playing it the Preservation way, not the other way around. With very few exceptions, everyone plays it straight and lets Preservation Hall be the star of the show. Highlights of the modern artists include Yim Yames of My Morning Jacket doing "Louisiana Fairytale," a revved up Ani Difranco's take on "Freight Train" and Steve Earle's appropriate take on "T'aint Nobody's Business." On the more traditional side, Dr. John is perfectly greasy on "Winin' Boy," The Blind Boys Of Alabama raise spirits on "There is a Light," Bluegrass legend Del McCoury fits like hand in glove on "After You've Gone," Pete Seeger and his son Tao Rodriguez-Seeger are warmly familiar on "Blue Skies" and a Louis Armstrong vocal is lifted for a new version of "Rockin' Chair" that couldn't sound more right.

For me, the real winners of this consistently winning set were Tom Waits and Angelique Kidjo. Waits tackles "Tootie Was My Big Fine Thing" and it is absolutely classic Waits. He is truly a genius who can make anything familiar weird, and vice-versa. Angelique Kidjo pairs with New Orleans Trumpeter (and son of Preservation Member Walter Blanchard) Terence Blanchard to deliver a spellbinding version of "La Vie En Rose." Her exotic voice offers the perfect contrast to the rock solid Americana background provided by Preservation.

Two other things worthy of note:
There is a deluxe version that comes with a second disc that contains an additional 6 songs, including another essential Waits contribution "Corinne Died On The Battlefield," and a second Yim Yames contribution-the spooky "St. James Infirmary." Very worth while in my opinion.

On release day - Tuesday we will be celebrating this great release by having two authentic King Cakes shipped up from New Orleans. Come by starting at 3:00 pm, have some King Cake, listen to the album and feel some pride for one of the things that makes America great.
Click Here for more information about King Cakes and Mardi Gras

Paul Epstein

I'd Love to Turn You On #2: Charles Mingus - The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady

We spend so much of our time buying, selling and listening to the latest releases that we sometimes forget to plumb the depths. Every one of us here got in to record store thing, at some level, because we have a deep interest and curiosity about all kinds of music. Most of us are collectors to some degree or another, and one of the abiding joys of collecting is to pull out the rare, beautiful, little known or downright obscure album and turn on a friend. Sometimes it's a classic that needs to be shined up and put back on the top shelf. With that in mind we are going to revive a column we used to include in our newsletters called, appropriately enough, I'd Love To Turn You On. This will give our super collectors and musical academicians to wax poetic about their favorite albums (or movie or book for that matter).

When I was a teenager and started getting into jazz, I was told to check out Charles Mingus. The title The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady stuck out in my mind—it was very evocative, but of what? After a shift at Twist & Shout, where I had just started working, I took a copy to the listening station and put it on. The first track of the album-length composition started off with a repeated drum figure, then the full band came in with some of the most hauntingly beautiful harmonies I'd ever heard. This was all I needed to hear—I bought the disc and went home. Over the next few months, I listened to it repeatedly. I turned my friends onto it. We all sat around listening to this amazing music over and over again. I came to know it so well that I could sing along to all the solos and hear the tape edits. Still, it was mysterious and maintained its power. How was this music created?

That was almost 10 years ago. As my relationship with music has changed and grown, a lot of it that I once loved has lost importance. Mingus music and Black Saint in particular have not. Charlie Mariano's alto saxophone solos still send chills down my spine, even as I understand more how they are constructed. The rhythm section interplay between Mingus and drummer Dannie Richmond seems even richer to me now that I've experienced such interaction first hand. This album is an inexhaustible document. It is music that transcends genre—as Mingus asserts in the liner notes, it “is part of a very old idea that someday all good music will return from its assorted labels which inhibit it with fashions [and] styles...” I feel the reason for this transcendence is its emotional content. It is not an attempt at “making jazz” or merely a cerebral exercise.

Much of the parts that I used to think of as “hooks” are, I can see now, improvised by the musicians. But they are a result of Mingus' compositional choices—selecting a band, rehearsing with them, setting up situations that call out for these sorts of responses. Mingus again: “Charles Mariano knew tears of sound were what was the intended thought in the background and what also was meant to come out of his alto solo. No words or example were needed to convey this idea to Charles Mariano. Only his love of living and knowing life...”

There's not much else to say about this album except, check it out. It was formative and, I suppose, life-changing for me. I've talked to all kinds of people—huge jazz fans and people who barely listen to jazz—who feel the same way.
--Ian Douglas-Moore

Soul Power

How times have changed! While watching this riveting movie one is just overwhelmed by how very different the times were in 1974 when the greatest fighter of all time, Muhammad Ali, went to Zaire to reclaim his heavyweight crown from George Foreman. At the same time a small group of impresarios and investors decided it would be a good idea hold a three-day concert to coincide with the fight. They would bring some of the biggest names in American soul music and mix them together with the cream of African and Latin musicians and bring the ghetto to the jungle as it were. Great idea, right? Well it does turn out to be a very musically rewarding experience, but the best laid plans as they say. The first 45 minutes of the film chronicle the political and financial jockeying to make the concert happen. It becomes clear that the ego of Don King drives things forward, while the poor schnook who represents the investors becomes paler by the minute as the Ali/Foreman fight faces trouble. The concert as it turns out has a life of its own as headliner James Brown is put in front of the press, and Ali does his thing. Ali’s presence looms large throughout the movie as he antagonizes Foreman, the U.S. press corps and anyone else who will listen. He is a marvel of physical perfection and mental acuity. Compared to what he is like today, it is remarkable and sad. He truly was the greatest. If you want to see his whole side of this story check out the excellent film When We Were Kings which is entirely about the fight itself. The main event here though is the music. In a way it feels like the African-American version of Woodstock. The scenes of the artists on the plane over to Africa really convey how meaningful the whole event to them. We see James Brown and Lloyd (Mr. Personality) Price embracing and saying “We’re going home.” The struggle for civil rights was not a distant memory to these men but a recent wound.

The performances are, without exception, breathtaking. The musical portion kicks off with The Spinners who are immaculate as they groove through “One Of A Kind Love Affair.” They are soul personified in their lightning sequined outfits and synchronized dance steps. The artists come fast and furious, and none disappoint. In fact there wasn’t one performance that didn’t make me wish to see the whole set. BB King is at the height of his powers, Bill Withers sends chills with a solo acoustic performance. The Crusaders are one of the real highlights with a very young Larry Carlton being notable as the lone white guy on stage. All the African performers are magnificent. It is a rare and inspiring treat to see a radiant Miriam Makeba defining exotic beauty, or Franco leading his OK Jazz band through a tight workout or Tabu Ley dancing and singing with unbelievable charisma.

The musical highlights just build as The Fania Allstars featuring Celia Cruz and Hector Lavoe completely tear it up. The full stadium of Africans erupts in joy as Cruz proves why she is one of the most explosive performers the world has ever known. The musical and emotional peak has to be Soul Brother Number One, James Brown, who is such a commanding presence it almost seems impossible. His performance of “The Big Payback” is as good as it gets. He has put on a little weight since his 60’s heyday but his dancing is clearly where Michael Jackson got much of his inspiration and his singing is unearthly. One can’t even fathom where Brown’s style came from - it is so unique and personal. He is truly unlike any other singer - ever. Brown is given the last 15 minutes of the movie, which is appropriate because obviously his image and music made a great impression on the African audience. In fact throughout the movie, everyone - Ali, the other Musicians, the investors, everyone - seems to be in awe of James Brown. As the movie ends you just yearn to see more of the footage of James Brown and each of these amazing musicians in this once-in-a-lifetime gathering.
Paul Epstein

I’d Love To Turn You On #1: The Orb - Adventures Beyond The Ultraworld

We spend so much of our time buying, selling and listening to the latest releases that we sometimes forget to plumb the depths. Every one of us here got in to record store thing, at some level, because we have a deep interest and curiosity about all kinds of music. Most of us are collectors to some degree or another, and one of the abiding joys of collecting is to pull out the rare, beautiful, little known or downright obscure album and turn on a friend. Sometimes it's a classic that needs to be shined up and put back on the top shelf. With that in mind we are going to revive a column we used to include in our newsletters called, appropriately enough, I'd Love To Turn You On. This will give our super collectors and musical academicians to wax poetic about their favorite albums (or movie or book for that matter).

In 1991 when this album was released the dance music revolution was in its infancy. It was just staring to break out of basements and tiny clubs and explode into what, for better or worse would become “the rave scene.” With the gelling of the scene the music started to adhere to rules, and fit specific needs - mainly to keep the dance floor throbbing until everyone stopped rolling. In 1991 the music was still wide open and somewhat unclassifiable. Adventures Beyond The Ultraworld is the realization of the promise that this music held. The Orb’s first album was experimental, highly ambitious and free from any genre restrictions. In many ways, because of its success it paved the way for a far less interesting form of music, but what pioneering album cannot be accused of that? If every droney, out of key, noisy rock band was laid at the Velvet Underground’s feet, they would need much bigger shoes. Doing it first often means doing it best, and Adventures Beyond The Ultraworld proves that notion as neatly as The Velvet Underground and Nico does for its era.

Opening with the single that would become their most identifiable song, “Little Fluffy Clouds” remains one of the most irresistible and unforgettable songs of the era. The title is derived from the primary sample: a clip of Rickie Lee Jones describing what the skies looked like when she was growing up in Arizona. Orb mastermind Alex Paterson builds a luscious soundscape around this sample that burbles and whooshes with interesting embellishment but never drops the beat for a moment. It achieves the seemingly impossible - it is the embodiment of intelligent dance music. I guess you could drop the “dance” and say it is just intelligent music. The fact that you can dance to it is icing. As the tracks unfold on disc one, one realizes that this music has as much to do with Tangerine Dream, Pink Floyd, Negativland or Mike Oldfield as it does with Paul Oakenfold or The Chemical Brothers. It is part of a long tradition of willfully avant-garde music informed equally by minimalist classical, popular rock and early experiments in electronics or what the French termed Musique Concrete. Each song on Adventures opens up a new world of sonic collage with a different beat structure beneath it. In fact, some songs have no beats whatsoever and are more akin to ambient experiments bringing together sweeping landscapes with a fascinating array of musical and spoken word samples. Much of the sampling on this album relates to human exploration of outer space, and the choice of subject matter is completely sympathetic with its surroundings. It almost feels like one is exploring uncharted territory while listening to this album. How many albums can you say that about? Amazingly, much of it still sounds pretty groundbreaking all these years later.

Much of the success of Adventures is based on Alex Paterson’s deft use of samples. Unlike much modern music, his samples never dictate what the melodic or rhythmic structure of the song will be. They act as poetic devices that give the songs depth - the music is created by Paterson, and he uses the samples as lyrical as opposed to technical inspiration. One never feels like he is just riffing off of someone else’s musical innovation. That is the big problem with sampling in a lot of modern music; it takes the place of a genuine idea. Not so with The Orb; there is clearly an artistic mind behind the music that is brimming with ideas of its own.

Adventures Beyond The Ultraworld closes a couple of hours later with the Orb’s second most renowned song; “A huge ever growing pulsating brain that rules from the centre of the ultraworld.” A seductive, snaky rhythm pushes its way through a barrage of cosmic synth waves lapping on the inside of your skull and gives way to a sample of 70’s songbird Minnie Riperton’s otherworldly voice singing her signature song “Loving You.” Instead of using Riperton’s song to inform the melody of his own work, Paterson just lifts her voice singing and it floats above The Orb like some angelic choir looking down approvingly. The song then shifts off into worlds that are alternately meditative and energizing. There are single mixes of this song that stretch to over 20 minutes, but the version on the album comes to a halt after about 18. The song did revive interest in Riperton, who died at a tragically young age, and it’s hard to imagine it would not have met with her approval. As the album ends the listener is left in a state of exhausted bliss, having figuratively traveled to other worlds. Not for the faint of heart by any means, Adventures Beyond The Ultraworld is a big glorious slice of dayglow pie that will fill you up to the brim with musical ideas and big beats. This album is neither a poppy dance confection, nor is it a mere vehicle for special effects, it is, rather, a serious attempt to take the listener on a voyage. The fact that Alex Paterson and company actually achieved this goal is monumental, the fact that it is such a good and enduring album almost 20 years later is miraculous. -- Paul Epstein

Magnetic Fields - Realism

The Magnetic Fields continue their playful love-hate relationship with pop music with Realism, a new album full of love songs, un-love songs, plus the sort of absurd humor that the band's always enjoyed putting across - the new title "The Dada Polka" might serve as an overall header for these types of songs. And Realism spends its time equally bouncing between songs that, if not actually sincere reports from songwriter Stephin Merritt's own heart, could at least be applied to real-life situations and the sort of humorous and/or precious little ditties that they relish. So if he sounds genuinely tongue-tied with infatuation on the Brian Wilson-ish melody of the lovely "I Don't Know What to Say" or if Claudia's vocal on "Always Already Gone" reflects the weariness of a relationship that hasn't worked for so long that she can't remember how it went sour it's sure that he'll pull the focus back quickly to the dainty "The Dolls' Tea Party" or precede it with "We Are Having A Hootenanny." By my count, he's reporting on love and meaning it about half the time - six cuts out of thirteen - and this is where he's invested not just his emotion, but usually his melancholy as well. It's a given that he's put his gift for melody there too, and he doesn't spare it on the remaining seven cuts, which split the time between the precious and the simply humorous, songs which oftentimes still manage to slip in something to say, as when "The Dada Polka" - surely what should be the most ridiculous song here, right? - offers this advice to listeners: "Do something / Anything / Do something out of character / It won't kill you." Basically, it's the new Magnetic Fields album, full of the type of clever, well-crafted songwriting we've come to expect from them, but with unexpected flashes of the genuine. And like all its predecessors, this one cultivates its own sonic identity. Merritt has stuck with his "no synth" creed and instead made acoustic instruments sound like synths, but here instead of faking synth-pop as on i or dressing the band up as the Jesus & Mary Chain as on Distortion they've chosen to explore "folk." It's a dangerous concept to put across one of the most sincere forms of music in the hands of a committed ironist, but between his gift for simple melodies and his unusually sincere-sounding approach to some of these lyrics, I think he manages to nail it.

Amchitka - The 1970 concert that launched Greenpeace

This 2 CD set completely came out of left field. A show that was largely unknown to collectors that signified an event (the birth of Greenpeace) that has also not been given the historical gravitas it deserves. The artists represented (Joni Mitchell, James Taylor and Phil Ochs) also run the gamut from more famous than they’ve ever been (Taylor) to not given their correct historical due (Mitchell) to largely forgotten (Ochs). The resulting musical experience ranges from interesting and poignant (Ochs) to thoroughly enjoyable (Taylor) to sublime (Mitchell). Ochs’ set, while politically bracing and well-played sounds like the voice of a man whose time had come and gone. And that, unfortunately is exactly what it was. Ochs always toiled in the shadow of Bob Dylan, and as the 70’s dawned his political righteousness seemed hidden beneath the blanket of Watergate and the close of the Viet Nam debacle. As the realities of American life crumbled around this modern day Paul Revere, the general reaction of the public seemed to be “yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” James Taylor, on the other hand is the consummate workman. What his shows lack in spark and inspiration are compensated for with always-to-be-counted-on guitar playing, his consistently pleasing voice and a grip of better-than-average songs. He performances rarely rise to a boiling point - he is terminally mellow, but he never fails to offer a pleasant evening of music. The sweet 7 song set he offers up is heavy on the “Sweet Baby James” material, so how bad could it be?

The real main event here is Joni Mitchell’s mind-blowing performance. Her voice is one of the real gifts of Rock and Roll and her easy manner with the audience is charming throughout. Her 10 song set is full of great songs and big surprises. The first surprise comes during her first song (“Big Yellow Taxi”) when it magically, almost accidentally, drops into “Bony Moronie.” Mitchell claims it as a song she remembers from teenage dances in her hometown of Saskatoon. It is a charming and totally unexpected moment. She follows with a great selection of tunes from her best albums performed with superb guitar and dulcimer accompaniment. There is a previously unreleased song “The Hunter” (an outtake from “Blue”) and then toward the end she busts out another revelatory surprise when she takes her song “Carey” directly into Dylan’s “Mr. Tambourine Man” again as if by accident. She then slows it down and invites Taylor onstage to duet with her. They sing it with different phrasing and step on each other a little bit, but the overall effect is pure magic. One can’t help but be amazed that this great performance has sat on a shelf all these years.

The package also contains a lovely booklet with great photos of the event, and the profits from this release help fund Greenpeace (one of the few vestiges of the hippie era that still carries some serious political and moral resonance), so one can feel extra good about this purchase. Do yourself a big favor and pick this one up.
Paul Epstein

It Might Get Loud

On the surface this might seem like a vanity project designed to make some already famous rock stars look even cooler than they already are, and at some level that is exactly what this is, but when one digs deeper this turns out to be one of the best movies ever made about the creative process, the intricacies of stardom and the abiding love affair rock music has had with the electric guitar. The premise is simple enough: put three huge rock stars from three different eras in a room together and let them talk about and show off their electric guitars. When the stars are Jimmy Page (Led Zeppelin) The Edge (U2) and Jack White (The White Stripes) it seems obvious that this will be no ordinary jam session, and it most certainly isn’t. In fact, very little jamming really goes on at all. The majority of this fascinating film is taken up with each of the guys talking about their love of and mastery of their instrument. It quickly becomes clear that each of these guys; Page the elder statesmen, Edge, the mysterious, reserved technician, and White the hot-shit, brash new kid all have an uncommon relationship with their instruments. Their accomplishments as songwriters, rock stars and humanitarians are put in the back seat so that they can show us how much they love their axes.

The film really has two components. The first is the time they spent together on the soundstage rapping with each other and showing off licks. For instance in one scene (actually found in the bonus material) White teaches the other two one of his signature licks. It is totally simple, but both Page and Edge mutter “brilliant” as they try to play it along with White, who looks like it is not lost on him that he is teaching Jimmy Page and The Edge one of HIS songs, and they are hanging on his every word. The second component follows each guitarist individually as they retrace the steps of their own development as musicians. These moments hold the greatest treats as Page air-guitars to a Link Wray single in his very own man-cave, or The Edge shows us the bulletin board in his high school where U2 drummer Adam Clayton put up a notice for “bandmates wanted” or when Jack White, with the aid of a young actor, teaches himself at 9 years old what the blues are all about. Through deft editing and unprecedented access to the musicians, we get a view of some very famous people as they have never been seen before. They appear, for all the world, to be exactly the same kind of fanboys that those of us who love them actually are. The thrill of seeing Jimmy Page teach the riff from “Kashmir” to two other rock stars is really cool, but to see him as a vulnerable teenager talking about his love for skiffle music and hopes to one day be a medical researcher really opens your eyes to how human these guys are. Yes, Page is the wizard, the most devilish man in rock history, but really, he’s just a kid with a handful of 45’s and a dream to play guitar, and that makes this an incredibly insightful film for people who like their Gods to have feet of clay. I have not enjoyed a movie about rock music as much as this one - maybe ever.
Paul Epstein

King Crimson - In The Court Of The Crimson King and Red 40th anniversary editions

King Crimson occupies an interesting place in rock history. They have no hits, very little legacy of mind-blowing live shows and little penetration of the general public’s consciousness, yet, like The Velvet Underground or The Thirteenth Floor Elevators they are shrouded in mystery and the reputation of being one of the great bands that people “in the know” know about. The truth is somewhat more complex than that. King Crimson was not and are still not a flash in the pan or part of some arcane drug-related movement. More similar to Frank Zappa, they have had a long, prolific career that has been marked by supreme musicianship and the unwavering professional seriousness of leader Robert Fripp. Fripp is one of the great auteur nuts of rock music. He is the only member who has been in every iteration of King Crimson and it has been his precision, psych, buzzsaw guitar playing and angular, heady compositional style that have been their consistent features. For the 40th anniversary of this important band, Fripp has enlisted Porcupine Tree mainman Steve Wilson and embarked upon creating the definitive versions of his landmark albums. Appropriately enough they have begun with the first, and most beloved Crimson album In The Court Of The Crimson King from 1969 and their 1974 masterpiece Red which marked the end of the first major era of King Crimson.

Aside from having one of the most recognizable and iconic album covers in rock history Court is possibly the quintessential “Art-Rock” statement. Jazzy, experimental and often startlingly noisy it is miles ahead of its time and sounds willfully avant by even today’s standards. It hearkens back to a time when musicians were trying to stretch the limits of popular music to include all their interests and emotions and move away from formulaic love songs. Unlike so many bands, King Crimson succeeded in creating a one-of-a-kind work of art that is as satisfying musically and conceptually now as it was then.

Red represents a much different King Crimson and a much different musical approach. The original Crimson line-up with Greg Lake, Ian McDonald and Michael Giles had been replaced by extraordinary drummer Bill Bruford and prog-rock legend to be John Wetton on bass and vocals and the album shines with intricate songwriting and powerful musical arrangements that bring together the best of jazz and rock. This is what FM radio was all about in the early 70’s and songs like “Fallen Angel,” “One More Red Nightmare” and “Starless” are the kind of onanistic science fiction fodder that completely lit my imagination at 15.

The real point of this review however, is not how great these two albums are, but how amazing these new editions of the albums sound. Each one is housed in a slipcase that holds a CD with the original album remixed in a definitive fashion and then a handful of bonus tracks. The second disc is a DVD that contains multiple versions of each album in all kinds of souped up audio quality with surround versions and alternate takes galore. They also each contain pieces of video that show the band at the appropriate time. I have been following the progress of sound and especially 5.1 and high-fidelity versions and I must proclaim these releases the ultimate in audiophile satisfaction. The clarity and detail is breathtaking and to hear the delicacy of “I Talk To The Wind” or the crushing finale of “Fallen Angel” in full surround, ear-bleeding mode was pretty damn exciting. In direct opposition to the movement toward more and more condensed music and storage capability trumping sound quality, these releases stick a finger in the face of the iPod and say “you wanna hear what music can really sound like?”

For those who are completely mad there is the awe-inspiring import version of In The Court Of The Crimson King which stretches the package to 5 CDs and a DVD and adds rare promo versions, alternates, different mixes of the album and two live shows from 1969. It might seem like overkill, but I can’t say I was less than riveted the entire time I listened to it. It is one of the most original and haunting albums in rock history and actually deserves this kind of treatment.
Paul Epstein

Neil Young - Dreamin’ Man Live ‘92

A couple of years ago when Neil played at the Wells Fargo Theatre downtown I got to go back stage and talk to him for a minute. We talked about the archive series and I asked him what else they were going to do. He said “next is ‘Over The Rainbow.’” I asked him if he meant the Rainbow Theatre in London on the Tonight’s The Night tour. He smiled and said yes. That tour is largely unheard in the public, and in collecting circles it is the most sought after stuff of all – kind of a holy grail search for the heart of Neil. On that tour he regularly performed drunk and went on long rambling raps in the middle of the song “Tonight’s The Night.” Some versions would last 45 minutes and some nights he would play the song three times in the same set. There are really no high quality versions of these shows out there so I was quite excited for the prospect. Then the next release to come out was The Canterbury House and it was so good that I forgot about the Rainbow release. Then “Dreamin’ Man” got announced and I thought; “what happened to the Rainbow? So, I went into this release with a somewhat bad attitude. When I got a copy I put it on and was almost immediately transported. It is one of those things that Neil and only a few other performers I have seen can do; completely engross the audience as a solo act. Very hard to do. From the first note of this CD it is clear Neil is playing these songs (the entire Harvest Moon album before it was out) with an uncommon urgency. He is in beautiful voice and his solid, accompaniment is wondrous in its simplicity and natural perfection. He is what every dorm-room wannabe wants ta be. Like the earlier Massey Hall release the effect is transcendent. The concert ends (Dreamin’ Man is actually taken from a series of concerts) and you realize you have shared an intimate experience, not just listened to a record. The material stands up pretty well too. Harvest Moon is sort of the sequel to the classic Harvest and it showcases the loving, homebody Neil as opposed to the tortured rock warrior. His love songs resonate in the heart as profoundly as his electric guitar playing stings in the ears. This is another bullseye for the archive series.

Paul Epstein

One Hundred Eleven and Counting

OK, so by now you know that Deutsche Grammophon is 111 years old. That's pretty old, even for a record company. And to help celebrate, the fine folks over at DG have put together a wee 6-CD collection of highlights and gems from the last century.

The earliest recording on this lovely set is a Meyerbeer aria sung by the opera titan Enrico Caruso in 1907. That's a little like having a box set called “45 years of the Rolling Stones” and not including anything until Sticky Fingers, isn't it? Or perhaps I'm the only person who wants to hear tragically Lo-Fi 19th century opera recordings. Or perhaps that's the earliest thing they could find. Still, that's a minor gripe as this set is pretty impressive by any standards.

The tracks are offered up here alphabetically, by performer - from Abbado to Zimerman, taking in legends like Bohm, Domingo, Furtwangler, Heifetz, Karajan, Oistrakh, Rostropovich and Segovia along the way. Because of this there is no flow or theme on the discs but rather a continuously shifting mood that never gets boring.

I recognized much of the music on this set but there were nice surprises also - the wonderful “Boogie Woogie Etude” by Morton Gould sounds exactly like the title, and Golijov's "Ayre," sung by Dawn Upshaw (with the the Andalucian Dogs!) is fabulous too. The fact that such an array of composers is represented here (not just Bach and Beethoven) turns this collection into a treasure trove of discoveries. My only regret is that the pioneering work of Kagel, Stockhausen, Nono and Maderna (which DG thankfully supported in the 60s and 70s) is only marginally represented here. Perhaps we'll get an Avant-garde box set next year, guys?

The appeal of DG goes beyond music. Like the wildly different labels Blue Note and 4AD, the presentation and feel of the records was part of the package. DG is a design icon with an instantly recognizable brand and aesthetic; perhaps the first label to achieve that. So, good on ya, chaps! Thanks for the music and here's to another 111.

- Ben Sumner

The Cranberries Gothic Theatre 12.1.2009

The Cranberries
Gothic Theatre
12.1.2009

For the first time in 7 years, the original members of the Cranberries have reunited, and stopped by the Gothic to play an amazing set this last Tuesday.

When the night started out, I honestly didn't know what to expect. The crowd that showed up was a mix of contrasting archetypes. For the most part, it was a bunch of people who don't get out very often, and were obviously used to assigned seating at the Pepsi Center. Once we found a place to stand and enjoy the show, a lady behind us (who looked like a miniature Enya with bright red lipstick), who was leaning on the rail when we got there, got up and passively nudged us with her purse. After several ignored nudges, she finally asked us if we'd planned on staying there all night, because now she couldn't see. We offered to switch her places, as we were taller, but she acted as if she were afraid of us and declined our offer. This is, for the most part, the kind of people that were in the crowd. The same people that made flashes of cameras and iPhones light the house up like wildfire! It was as if no one understood their devices well enough to turn off the flash for a performance. It was ridiculous enough to get some people histerically laughing, including myself. However, there were some livelier, happier people sprinkled among us, and most everyone warmed up towards the end of the night anyway. Even the group of 40-something year-old wallflowers that decided to stand around unmoving the whole night, blocking the crowd with their huge hair seemed to lighten up by the time the Cranberries were in the middle of their set.

Griffin House was the opener. I honestly have nothing slightly positive to say about this guy. I wish I had shown up later and missed this guys performance, which was a cheesey, obvious and overstated attempt at a niche market to make the white man's burden fade away by lyrically stating that no one is really white. He seems a lot like a marketer with a guitar, singing something that is more similar to contrived Hollywood Country, then something that should be before a Cranberries performance. I'm admittedly no music expert, and I realize he respectably has fans, but it's my personal opinion that Griffin House seems less of an artist and more of a trust-funder with a marketing degree and a guitar.

Now on to the good part of the show; the whole reason we were all there; the Cranberries. What an amazing performance! Their sound was full of energy and the same old dark melodic pop with a Celtic twist. Dolores O'Riordan's vocals were just as good, if not better live than recorded. The 38 year-old mother of two bounced and danced on stage with energy that, at times, put the crowd to shame. While she kept most of her talking to a minimum, she modestly still announced the title to every song before performing it, as if she needed to. Her stage presence was so positive and on key that it seemed to make the whole place change for the better. Noel & Mike Hogan (Guitar & Bass) and Fergal Lawler (Drums) were, as to be expected, just as awesome. Fergal, Noel and Mike drew out great ending renditions to “Dreaming my Dreams” and “I Still Do.” They catered to the crowd well and performed a ton of their classics like “Free to Decide,” “Linger,” and, of course, “Zombie.” Seeing these guys perform all of their hits live for the first time is comparable to having fresh Cranberry juice for the first time, instead of from concentrate. While they have been around for almost 19 years, the Cranberries have not gone bad. They remain fresh, full of energy, and maintain their amazing, inspiring sound. They are set to release an album of live recordings in 2010, and I can't wait to get more of what I got from them at the Gothic that night!

-Chris Berstler

Grateful Dead - Road Trips Vol. 3 No. 1 12-28-79

This is the second full show from this run of New Year's shows to be officially released. Not quite the powerhouse that the other show is, this one still has many highlights to recommend it. Starting with a completely soaring “Sugaree” the band is clearly psyched. Other first set highlights include a hypnotic “Row Jimmy” and a beautiful version of the rare “High Time.” The fireworks really start in the second set where a “Terrapin” for the ages gives way to a “Playin’ In The Band” for the ages - spacey and exploratory, they don’t rush it at all. The bonus disc also has a remarkable sequence of songs with “Scarlet Begonias” and “Fire On The Mountain” slipping seductively into a letter perfect “Let It Grow.” This period of The Dead is characterized by the high-energy addition of keyboardist/vocalist Brent Mydland and the large amounts of time the band was putting into rehearsing with him. They play with a speedy precision that they would never recapture again. In particular, the three guitarists are playing with chattering intensity and seemed more tuned into each other than at any time since the late 60’s. It is not long, languorous jams but bright, to the point virtuosity that drives this show - exhilarating.

Paul Epstein

The Cost Of Convenience

Yesterday being a holiday, and my house being filled with people (14 people, representing 4 generations) I was forced to ponder some heavy stuff. It always happens that way, when all the trappings of “normal” and “traditional” surround me my mind goes to other places. This time, as I was spending the entire day in food preparation I started to think about what change our society has undergone in terms of food gathering and consumption. Somewhere in the mid-20th century we became a society that stopped making food and started having it prepared for us. We become more and more used to the concept of “Fast Food” and as a result more than one generation of Americans has had their health destroyed. Diabetes, obesity, heart disease, and the calamitous results of factory farming on our environment have changed the world for the worse. Of course, when one starts examining this problem, it becomes clear that the race for convenience has affected all parts of our life. Television, while offering the most convenient form of information gathering and entertainment by bringing it right to us, has had a ruinous effect on our ability to focus on anything important whatsoever. It seems like a never-ending parade of pernicious influence, over-hyped bad news (mainly the morbid killing and sexual abuse of children), and inaccurate weather predictions designed to keep us inflamed and at perpetual orange alert - whatever the hell that is. Now, of course the Internet has made TV seem like child’s play. With no regulations or editorial oversight, it truly is the Wild West of misinformation, pornography and advertising. This is truly a golden age for an ideological vacuum.

Obviously, my mind had to turn to music and how the convenience factor has affected it. The 500-pound gorilla in the room was the five-ounce Ipod staring at me from my dresser. I purchased it a few months ago because I started to really feel bad about the little toxic pellets I was planting in the earth every time I threw out another set of batteries from my Discman. I loved my portable CD player for exercising and traveling, but those batteries were making me feel guilty. So I broke down and bought the Ipod, loaded up all my mix CDs that I use for exercising and went running. As promised, the Ipod is an incredible storage device that organizes or un-organizes your collection with minimal fuss and maximal speed. It didn’t skip, and best of all the battery could be recharged very easily and the charge lasts for a good long time. So where’s the big butt you say? It was there from the first second I opened the package. Steve Jobs is an evil genius. He designed the thing to be completely useless without the interface of the internet. It reinvents the hapless consumer’s way of thinking completely, by subverting the need for all physical manifestations of the art itself. There is the little silver box and that is all. It is the fast food of music. It is the ultimate of convenience, and the ability to do it is so simple a child can master it in seconds, and the tools are all free. Wow, I’m blown away by the clarity of Jobs’ vision of how to rethink everything. Is it comparable to other forms of music? Most of the people I deal with here at Twist and Shout actually care about music as art. The individual parts that make it up are important to them, specifically the integrity of the artistic vision and the quality of the sound. Artistically, the cover art becomes unimportant and the playing order is also irrelevant. Most disturbing to me, the sound SUCKS. I’m sorry, I’ve heard this that and the other guy tell me this that and the other thing, but I have to trust my own senses on this one. I have spent the better portion of my life listening to and thinking about music and I know the difference between good and bad sound. The IPOD produces a shrill, compressed, annoying chirp whether you play it through the ubiquitous white headphones or dock it to your stereo, and under no circumstances does it compare to the quality of sound one achieves through a well-produced CD or certainly an LP. These are major changes and compromises for the consumer to make, and yet millions have made the leap pretty quickly. The aforementioned news media is constantly writing the obituary of the music industry, and yet 80 percent of music sold is still sold the old-fashioned way. It is the public perception that has been altered. People are being sold a bill of goods and, lemmings that we are, are buying right in to it. The very real fact is that with each leap of convenience we collectively take there is often a demonstrable diminution of objective quality. Fast food is less healthy than home cooking, no matter what the executives from McDonalds say.

My younger relatives and employees assure me this is classic “old-fart” behavior; railing against the newfangled in the face of modern innovation, but I would like to return to my initial point, and that is that in each step we take towards becoming a culture of convenience, we lose something. There are always movements to recognize the loss, and regain some of the value - think of the slow food movement, story-telling societies, or the interest in knitting. Initially the practitioners of the old ways are considered “ologists” or “ophiles,” and as time continues to move forward they become crackpots and weirdos - the guy who still wears a straw hat and suspenders. I guess this is inevitable, but I know for myself, popular culture is the reverse barometer of those things that are actually of value, and those that will give me comfort and meaning in my daily existence. I, for one am not willing to trade convenience for the finer things in life. Now please, another piece of that homemade pecan pie.

Candy Beats 2

Gothic Theatre
11.21.2009
Triad Dragons & Floorbangers

While massive raves and underground parties always have their appeal, I've always dug the smaller, concert-esque electronic shows too and Candy Beats 2 proved to be one of the better ones this year.

All the openers did their thing without a hitch and sounded great. The crowd started to gather around and start bouncing when John Debo hit the stage. It was hard not to bob your head and get lost in his great electro-house set. He dropped some good bass, and was great at getting the crowd fired up for the next set.

I have to say, Rank1 exceeded my expectations greatly! I was expecting something more along the lines of progressive trance from these Netherlands superstars, but was delighted with an amazing, hard hitting electro-house set that made everyone in the place bounce and move! Their set was bass heavy in the appropriate places, and also touched on their personal style by being classy and thoughtful in their breakdowns and build ups. As to be expected with most Djs, the live set is almost always different then their recorded pieces, giving the artist a sense of artistic depth. If this is the case with Rank1, then their artistic depth is much deeper than a lot electro-music artists. I look forward to having them back.

Filo & Peri never disappoint! The crowd was screaming before these guys were even on stage, because they knew what they were in for. Their energy and attitude were so positive and excellent as always and they blew the house up. Their set was such hard hitting electro house, that it bordered on being hard dance, and reminded me of Anne Savage's sets, but with more pop and funk influence. The go-go girls at this point were actually enjoying their jobs and did a great job getting the crowd hyped up. Filo & Peri were awesome, as to be expected, these guys make great headliners.

Despite their success with massives and nightclubs, it's great to see that Triad Dragons has not lost the ability to throw great small shows for people who want to hear the music, and not deal with crazy lines or terrible security. The lighting, the sound and the stage design were all amazing for such a show as well! This show was absolutely fun, and if you dig this type of music and weren't there, you missed out. Can't wait for CB3!

Chris Berstler.

Beatles in Mono

To be totally honest, I have not spent that much time with the newly remastered Beatles albums in MONO, until recently. When they first came in I listened to them all once through and filed them before they got damaged in any way (ah, the life of a collector). Also, I have been so enthralled with the stereo versions that I haven’t been able to get them out of my player. But now that we have another batch of the Mono box for sale I decided to really listen to them carefully. It has been an ear-opening experience. The early albums sound the way I like to remember - bright, loud little pop punches in the eye. It’s just like they are coming out of the one speaker in your car on your way to school in 1964. They really get revelatory as the years pass. Revolver and Rubber Soul are tapestries of guitar sounds - Rubber Soul lush with acoustic instruments and sculpted three part harmonies, Revolver abuzz with wiry electric guitar sounds. When we reach Sgt. Pepper, the point that The Beatles really started reaching for the stars, the Mono version is startling. The album is like a sonic tower, with the vocals teetering at the top-right in your face, and then all those baroque flourishes and layers of sound and effects are glued ornamentally to the sides like some crazy, cosmic X-mas tree. It is a completely different feel than listening to the stereo version. There are also differences in the mix itself. For instance, between “Within You Without You” and “When I’m Sixty-Four” there is a bit of Lennon audio horseplay that is either not on the stereo mix, or is buried in there so deeply I never noticed it before. Again, at the end of “Good Morning Good Morning” where the chicken miraculously becomes a guitar, there is a completely different mix that effectively neuters that little chicken. And that, ultimately is the point, these are tiny details that would be laughable to the average music fan, but to the diehard Beatles fan, this is the stuff of heaven - minutia of the smallest order. It gives one the ability to dig deep into the catalog that has inspired our love of music and come up with something new and unheard. What more could you ask for?
Paul Epstein

GWAR November 11th, 2009 - Gothic Theatre

GWAR has been kicking ass, saving earth, and spewing gallons of extra terrestrial bodily fluids on metal heads nightly for over 25 years now! Their 25th anniversary tour stopped by Denver's Gothic Theatre on the 11th of November to a crowd eager to have alien juices stain their clothes and to see Oderus Urungus literally rock out with his cock out.

The two opening acts were the Red Chord and Job for a Cowboy. The Red Chord started the night out pretty decently with great cookie monster vocals (Guy Kozowyk), a good accompanying bass and tons of drums. However, the crowd really started to act up when Job for a Cowboy started their set. Their sound was more refined, heavier, and the guitar (Ravi Bhadriraju) and vocals (Jonny Davy) were clear, fast and had a sense of mystery, without losing their great metal edge. They were a great choice to get the crowd bouncing around and to get the moshers warmed up for GWAR.

While the openers did their thing, the crowd was able to buy a $20 program, and use that as a backstage pass to meet GWAR. This was one part of the band's 25th anniversary program called “Meat and Beat,” which also included a $1 raffle for Oderus' mask.

GWAR kicked so much ass! They played a mix of old and new, but most of their set was from their newest studio album, Lust in Space. While I'm sure many people wanted to hear older stuff, it didn't matter because it rocked just as hard. By the last quarter of their performance President Obama was nice enough to come out on stage and personally thank GWAR for repeatedly saving the earth from other sexual alien threats. He was shortly thereafter decapitated by a gigantic alien robot and after splattering the crowd with gobs of blood and frantically running around, casually walked off stage. The robot was dismembered in an epic battle that ended with Oderus raping an alien baby with a sword and spraying the crowd with its bile. The Gothic was covered in plastic, and filled wall to wall with fans dressed in white when GWAR took stage; but when GWAR left the Gothic was covered in alien blood, bile and gore, and the fans were red, green, brown and had a lot of new bruises, but all were smiling or laughing.

Once you see them live, it's immediately clear why GWAR has been such a big name in metal for over 25 years, and I hope they get 25 more! Happy 25th GWAR!!!

-Chris Berstler

Tom Waits - Glitter and Doom Live

Take a moment to ponder Tom Waits' career. From his beginnings as a cult star performing an almost burlesque interpretation of modern beat poetry, he has slowly and ineffably moved to a consistently more artful, personal and modern sound, all the while refining (with the help of his writing partner, Wife, Kathleen Brennan) his songwriting away from tales of a drunken carny-like existence on the edges of hipster society to the thoughtful insights of a dedicated and caring family man and artist. His music is groundbreaking on so many levels. He is one of the few artists I can think of whose work not only defies time and categorization, but continues to define the forward movement of modern sound. He is alone in his previous accomplishments and equally alone in his ability to invent the future. I have not met an artist, musician or generally cool person who doesn’t like Tom Waits. At the same time, I have met very few non-music nuts who even know who he is. He has not penetrated modern consciousness except as a catalyst or seed for others to grow from, offering up a model for the artistic ideal. Because of this, new releases by Waits are greeted with an increasing fervor by those in the know. One can always be assured an unexpected and gratifying experience.

His latest is sure to be no exception. The musical soundscape is stunning throughout this document of Waits’ latest tour which focused almost exclusively on his last four or five releases. Shifting from sly jazzy shuffles to industrial skrapes and explosions and back again at the drop of a hat, the sonic ground beneath Waits’ feet never gathers moss. Much of the sound is seemingly new. How in this wide wide world of copycats and sampling does someone come up with something that sounds like it has never been done before? Partially by using found instruments and an array of electronic vocal treatments, but also by shrugging off the conventional strictures of all popular music and just creating. Lots of artists “just create” freely in what has been called The Avant Garde, unfortunately most of it comes out sounding like cacophonous shit instead of the poetry of Tom Waits.

Vocally, Waits has taken what might have been thought of as a liability-his gargling with barbed-wire and rat poison rasp of a voice- and turned it into the most interesting part of the show. He inhabits several distinctive personae during the course of a performance, alternately barking like some deranged street corner preacher, to roaring like an electronic beast from a Orwellian nightmare, to the pained croon of some injured beast in the distance. Each is also matched by a physical manifestation. I saw Waits early in his career when his act basically consisted of him sitting at the piano and winning the audience over with the strength of his imagery. Somewhere along the line, he developed into an unbelievably physical performer, presenting an onstage demeanor that falls between circus barker and Tourette’s victim. A Tom Waits concert is unlike any other experience, and it is one of the few generally interesting and exciting shows left to see.

As a bonus this album comes with a second disc called “Tom Tales” that will be instantly recognizable and welcomed by anyone who has seen Waits perform. Between songs he tends to launch into dissertations and rambling speeches about the things that occupy his mind. Often little known facts from the back pages of obscure referentiania, these observations are always entertaining, and sometimes quite enlightening. It is another facet of the man, the artist, the enigma: Tom Waits. -- Paul Epstein

Jerry Garcia Band with Nicky Hopkins- Let It Rock

With the possible exception of his work with David Grisman, this first iteration of The Jerry Garcia Band was totally unique because it is the only time he had a musical foil who matched his own peerless skill; That person was Nicky Hopkins. Garcia, like all stars, tended to play with people less accomplished than himself. This is not by design, but rather the natural reality that few were as good as him. In Nicky Hopkins he found another world-class player with whom to share the burden of soloing. Hopkins proved to be a short-lived (less than a year in the band) but potent dueling partner for Garcia. The shows Jerry did with Nicky Hopkins don’t sound like any other in his career due to the slow, baroque deliberateness of Hopkins’ playing. On each song Garcia generously opens the door widely for Hopkins to solo. Like Garcia’s own playing, Hopkins shows a wealth of influences and stylistic ability that at times is hilariously anglophile in comparison with Jerry’s more Americana leanings. The result is a concert where the musician’s sheer enjoyment of each other’s playing is clearly audible. For his part, Garcia is in fine voice, singing sweet and high on songs like “It’s Too Late,” a gorgeous “I’ll Take A Melody” and an extended “Ain’t No Use.” The highlight is the 19 minute version of The Rolling Stones' “Let’s Spend The Night Together” that takes a bunch of detours before landing and giving way to Hopkins' signature song “Edward The Mad Shirt Grinder” which he originally recorded as a member of Quicksilver Messenger Service. As Garcia plays a slide guitar part that is totally unlike his usual style, one can hear not only why this pairing was so interesting, but why it was doomed as well. There just wasn’t enough room for two stars of such definitive yet divergent styles of playing. -- Paul Epstein

The Doors - Live In New York

Through their reissue company “Bright Midnight” The Doors have been pretty aggressive about releasing concert recordings. Many of them have come from the 1970 tour, which was recorded in its entirety for the album that would eventually be released as Absolutely Live. In the last few years they have released three or four of the shows from this tour in their seperately, and what it has revealed about this most misunderstood of bands is that they were both unpredictable, and capable of reaching the highest heights in concert. Each show on the tour is very different from the others and the greatness of the show was usually determined by Jim Morrison’s general level of sobriety. His drunkenness did not guarantee either a great or a terrible show, it just guaranteed that the focus of the show would be Jim’s state of mind. Like some Rock and Roll Rorschach , the Doors reflected the times and the seething angst of their audience on a nightly basis. Sometimes it was brilliant, sometimes drunken foolery, but it was always interesting. On this 6 CD release the four shows the Doors played at The Felt Forum in NYC are presented in their entirety. Each night feels very different as the band runs through various covers- “Little Red Rooster,” ‘Money,” “Crawling King Snake,” “Back Door Man” and even “Gloria” and mix it with their artiest material-“The End,” When The Music’s Over,” Celebaration Of The Lizard,” “Ship Of Fools” etc. and present the audience with something memorable every night. If you are already a Doors fan this will be a most welcome batch of new experiences, and if you are not, you may find yourself understanding why Rock concerts used to be considered scary, revolutionary experiences.
Paul Epstein

Molina and Johnson - Molina and Johnson

Two indie superstars (Magnolia Electric Co. and Songs:Ohia) join forces to prove the adage that the sum is greater than the individual parts. Both of these gentlemen have proven themselves to be superb songwriters, singers and makers of memorable albums. Most recently, Magnolia Electric Company’s Josephine has turned a lot of heads and ears towards Jason Molina’s skewed and specific view of American music. Molina & Johnson is a mixture of both of these artists’ strengths, presenting a slightly weirder setting for Molina’s touching songs and beautiful voice, and lightening up Johnson’s avant tendencies and more eccentric singing style. Musically things remain pretty spare and stripped down allowing plenty of room to reflect on the lyrical content and heartfelt performances. It is clear that these guys have a great deal of respect for each other’s work, precisely because they give each other so much sonic room, and embellish each other’s songs with such care and precision. There is no musical show-offery here, just two guys sharing their best and letting the tape roll. The result is a wonderful album of folky, artsy compositions that is sure to please fans of either of these talented men.


Paul Epstein