Sightings

I just remembered after posting my review of Hiram Bullock's 1997 album that I actually ran into Hiram at a Will Calhoun Quintet show at the Zinc Bar in NYC several years. Funny that. Outside of Carrasco I have liked most of what I have heard him on, and in person he seems to be a hell of a nice guy.

It falls on the same day I received an email from Scott Moon. As you may recall, I wrote a review of one of the albums his former band made in the late 80s and I had stated I wondered what happened to him and drummer Mike Urbano. On a lark and a google search I found him, emailed him, and lo and behold he emailed back. He seems to be out of the music business largely and is more into publishing and other media as far as I can tell. After trading a few emails I found out he is still in the Sacramento area and even invited me to his July 4th BBQ. Now how cool is that?

Just figured I would throw that out there.

Hiram Bullock

Hiram Bullock Carrasco Fantasy Jazz Records 1997 Hiram is one of the more accomplished studio musicians in New York these days, having played on dozens of albums and endless tours - Sting, David Sanborn, Chaka Khan, Miles Davis, Paul SImon, Clapton, and Pete Townsend among many others. He was also known for many years as the barefoot wild man in the David Letterman band. He has over a half-dozen solo albums to his credit, with high points like World of Collision, and Live at Manny's Car Wash standing out. Carrasco however, is a definite lowpoint. He seems to play down all of his strengths (versatile playing and a chameleon like sense of phrasing) and plays up all his weaknesses (cliche smooth-jazz-isms and inconsistent composing). To his credit, some of his good points are very prominent on this album; his warm yet gritty tone (somewhere between Robert Cray and Larry Coryell) and his bluesy voice still sound solid. His choice of support folk is also good (Brazilian stars like Sergio Brandao and Hugo Fattoruso) and ex-Paul Simon bassist Bakithi Kumalo. Unfortunately, they are sadly underutilized on almost all of the album. The album starts with a smooth but tepid rendition of the soul classic What You Won't Do for Love and from there it goes fairly nowhere for almost half an hour until he finally seems to get some inspiration and covers the Chaka Khan interpretation of Dizzy Gillespie's And the Melody Lingers On (A Night in Tunisia) where the musical interplay actually starts to go somewhere interesting, with good punchy percussion and some inspired phrasing out of Bullock's stratocaster. With great sorrow, it is followed by the albums woirst track, Bean Burrito which was probably meant to be a humourous take on food, but the result is a helping of vacuous tunesmithing. The rest of the album is a series of uninspired Bullock compositions that meander between nap-inducing and irritating. By this point, Hiram sounds like he is simply looking to see how little he has to do to finish...and it shows. This is really a disappointment, as Hiram is more than capable of putting out good (if not occasionally a great) performances. Granted, he is generally considered better live, where his showmanship and interplay skills shine(grab a copy of Marcus Millers last live album for evidence), there was really no reason to put out such a half-hearted attempt. It is as if he took all the worst earmarks of some of his former collaborators (i.e. elevator-jazz snooze-a-thon master David Sanborn, and keyboard slop-meister Bob James) and rode them into a refined state of infinite boredom.

Wayne Shorter - Juju

Wayne Shorter
Juju
Blue Note 1964

Produced by Alfred Lion

Wayne Shorter - tenor sax
McCoy Tyner - piano
Reggie Workman - bass
Elvin Jones - drums

Juju is one of my personal favorites of Wayne Shorter. It was the first album I had purchased led by Shorter, and it was equidistant from the first material I had heard with his involvement (the now beyond legendary second Miles Davis Quintet) and from the mostly abstracted material of today. It is a sweet album, and I mean that in not only the colloquial meaning of that word, but in terms of actual taste. It's sweet. It's like confectionery. It is one of those albums you can enjoy as an engaged listener, finding new things to latch onto with each subsequent spin while your head keeps repeating "that is bad-ass", or can confortably recommend to friends who want to know about jazz beyond the rote boredom of Wynton Marsalis and are sick of his Ken Burn's style music slumming.

It was only his second album, before he had fully developed the compositional style he later would become lauded for, and its sound draws some strong similarities to John Coltrane. This makes some sense, considering Coltrane's entire rhythm section of Tyner/Workman/Jones is the band for this set, and the same things that made them great behind Trane works equally well here. There is a delicate fury going through the whole recording. The late Elvin Jones propels and Workman just glides effortlessly through the arrangements, with an approach that acts as an emollient between the other players. Tyner, who is really one of jazz's greatest living pianists, has a light touch but it isn't lightweight. The whole backline is supportive of the compositions -all Shorter originals- and can shuffle between the subtle stylistic shifts between tracks, such as the Sub-Saharan tribal influnec of the title track and the skittish gait of Mahjong (which is also the most Trane-sounding of all the tracks).

Wayne himself alreasy at this early stage evinces some of the early signs of what would become his trademarks; long, intricate lines of thought, and a lyrical phrasing built from a canonical command of the language. Wayne was even at this stage, a burning soloist capable of pummelling technique and endless melodic invention. If you are looking for his tender soprano sax work (suck it down Kenny G, you do not even deserve to hold the instrument) there is none of it here -- it is all tenor, all the time. But Juju is not without its more subdued moments, as most of House of Jade just seems to pass through like clouds. Twelve More Bars to Go is a blues that does not sound even remotely contived.

Ain't no jive here.

You might like this if you like:

John Coltrane - any of his Atlantic releases
Joe Henderson - Live in Tokyo
Branford Marsalis - Crazy People Music

Lazy Sunday Afternoon

So I pretty much gave up on listening to Bono and his self-righteous piffle quite a ways back. While I appreciate the sentiment, the fact that he has turned himself into some kind of wannabe diplomat for a nation of angsty kids as a proxy for a continent that largely has no idea who he is (and would probably wonder why he is so concerned for their welfare when he spends 2 grand on a pair of shades that make him look slightly less ugly than Jeff Goldblum 85 minutes into his role during The Fly and certainly less indignant). When I read this, it gave me a good chortle. BTW, to all you U2 fanatics, everything up to the Unforgettable Fire was completely forgettable, and the last 2 albums have largely been the same track recorded a dozen times over and over again. Get over yourselves.

And in a recent discussion, someone asked me about Bob Dylan, to which I replied "His musicianship never impressed me and certainly his vocals to this day I find godawful, with possibly the only worse candidate being Neil Young, who sounds like fornicating cats with advanced leprosy on a bed of glass."

Thank you and good night.

Ephraim Lewis - Skin

Ephraim Lewis
Skin
Elektra 1992

Produced by K. Bacon and Jonathan Quarmby

Ephraim Lewis - vocals

guitars - Hussein Boon, Mark Sheridan
drums - Ed Hacket, Caroline Bowden, Darren Ford, Trevor Murell
+ a litany of other UK session players.

A decade ago the young life of Ephraim Lewis came to a rather mysterious and unpleasant end. I had only recently really gotten into his sole album, Skin and had felt his death to have been quite saddening. As time has wore on, I have felt that compound, as repeated listens to that album shows the first steps of someone who could have possibly eclipsed people like Marvin Gaye. His debut is a lush and rooted affair that still manages to evoke space and the vastness of the personal. It still remains excellent listening a dozen years since its release.

At initial listen, the easiest way to describe him would be to think of what would happen if Sade and Seal had a child, and made Terence Trent D'Arby the godfather. The album is stacked with dense basslines, taut rhythmic figures, and punchy bits of horns and layered keys. It is distinctly an R&B/Soul record, but does not lend itself to being fully confined to what those names may define it as. There is no pathetic R. Kellyesque posturing or brickheaded plodding of things produced by anyone dating Janet Jackson these days. There are hints and references to people like Miles Davis in the mellifluous trumpet phrases in Drowning in Your Eyes as well as having the kind of songs that would lead the way for neo-soul (an infinitely stupid bloody term, but I use it for those those who are fixated to it) singers like Maxwell, as evidenced by a track such as Rule For Life.

It offers a lot of variation, and not in the form of intentional eclecticism, but as exploring the spaces that soul can occupy easily; both musically and lyrically, there is a good gamut to be absorbed here. Love, loss, race, celebrity, and the infinitely fragile state of being human are all covered. Lewis has an astonishing range, first evidenced by the original first single, It Can't Be Forever where he smoothly shifts from a deep baritone "speaking" register to a clear tenor and shining falsetto without batting an eye. It just flows. He can open up, as he does in spots from Mortal Seed and Hold On, but Skin as an album eschews vocal gymnastics for expressiveness, and in that regard, Ephraim is a more relaxed, pensive persona.

There are some treasures here, as both Summer Lightning and the melancholy Sad Song could qualify as timeless ballads. The production is stellar; crisp, full, but never overpowering -- you can actually feel that the songs stand on their own rather than needing the embellishment, so the fact that Bacon and Quarmby opt for measured embellishment rather than suffocating over-adorned pabulum speaks volumes. Even the drum programming of It Can't Be Forever, which utilizes the now most overused beat in history (most remembered for being on Madonna's Justify My Love single from way back) still feels appropriate given the time this was initially released. It is really a shame Ephraim never go a chance to follow this up, as even the b-sides of the singles, like Dreams From the Trees showed an artist trying to progress.

This is one of those albums that if you like soul, is an absolute must have. No excuses. Sell your Ashanti and Ciera collection and trade the proceeds to pick this up instead. Ignore BET, MTV, and whatever Clear Channel cordoned-off musical cul-de-sac you happen to have been duped into bothering with.

You might like this if you like:

Sade - Love Deluxe
Seal - Seal I, II
Terence Trent D'Arby - Symphony or Damn
Maxwell - The Urban Hang Suite
Rasahn Patterson - Love in Stereo
D'Angelo - Brown Sugar
Rafael Saadiq - Instant Vintage

Bourgeois Tagg - Yoyo

Bourgeois Tagg
YoYo
Island Records 1987

Produced by Todd Rundgren with Brent Bourgeois and Larry Tagg

Brent Bourgeois - vocals, keyboards
Larry Tagg - bass, vocals
Scott Moon - Synths
Mike Urbano - Drums, Percussion
Lyle Workman - Guitars

In the late 80s, elegant, eloquent pop was in decline. A few stalwarts (XTC, Squeeze, Elvis Costello) kind of kept things afloat, but new blood was hard to come by. Bourgeois Tagg was one of the few promising new acts, and on their way to establish themselves as new scions of post-new wave coolness. Then they broke up. But at least we have their self-titled debut and the follow up, Yoyo as reminders.

BT had some particular strengths, and a chemistry that exploited them, helped along in this case by the infamous Todd Rundgren (who had just come off producing Skylarking for XTC). Lyrics that were thoughtful, articulate and pithy were used against performances that were sincerely delivered and played with more aplomb than one would expect. They had the fortune of Tagg and Urbano as a flexible and unexpectedly funky rhythm side (especially Tagg's supple basswork), and in Workman they lucked out with one of the most versatile and compelling guitarists to come out of that decade (he has since worked with folks like Beck, Kevin Gilbert, Frank Black, and They Might Be Giants). Bourgeois and Tagg were both excellent frontmen and seemed to have a fluid common area where they built ideas from into albums.

This is not to imply the album suffers from sameness. It is quite the contrary. Straightahead AOR like 15 Minutes in the Sun follows the Boz Scaggs/Steely Dan style lazy day sounds of Out of My Mind. Waiting for the Worm To Turn is full of creative guitar/bouzouki work and one of the catchiest choruses which play into B+T's harmony vocal style. What's Wrong with This Picture is a melancholic narrative track that may be appealling to folks who liked Joni Mitchell's more jazzy work (it even features fretless bass sounding more Jaco than not). The dark, chilling story of losing one's mind in I Don't Mind At All is a centerpiece of this album (and it's sole charting hit). It is sung against a Beatles-esque backdrop of acoustic guitars, strings, and lush keyboards. The closer, Coma could have come off as an accidentally accessible b-side from Laurie Anderson; disturbed, somber and not ending happily (it is a song about drinking yourself into a coma), it was an autobiographical account of where Bourgeois felt he was heading at the time. It was prescient, as BT folded after the tour supporting this album.

Bourgeois made one stellar solo album, followed by a medicore sophomore effort, and an abyssmal third as he became a born again Christian and gutted every interesting aspect of his songwriting and edgy musical approach with the exception of his clear, expressive vocals. Tagg has done 2 obscure solo discs well worth seeking out (Particualrly to those who like the work of bands like Train or Chantal Kreviazuk). Urbano and the aforementioned Workman have gone on to do lots of session work, with Moon being the lone "where is he now?" candidate.

They really were a thinking man's pop band.

You might like this if you like:

Kino - Picture
XTC - Oranges and Lemons
Todd Rundgren - Nearly Human
Squeeze - Play
Tears For Fears - Sowing the Seeds
Kevin Gilbert - Thud

Waxing nostalgic

Many many years ago I was first exposed to the Broun Fellini's as I heard them playing at the Ajax Lounge; I was at street level and could hear their percolating sound from the open windows Ajax's 2nd story speakeasy location.

The Ajax later put out a newlatter which had a blurb about them and their strange inner universe (which is ceneterd in an absurdist colony on an island called Boohaabia, and whose language seems to mix hip-hop laced allegory and jazz-on-dada visions of a funky utopia). It would be years before I picked up my sole cd of material from them, Aphrokubist Improvisations, Vol. 9 (there were no other 8 volumes), and only managed to cath their live show last year as an opener to Living Colour at the Great American Music Hall. They have since changed line ups several times (the groups cre continues to be saxophone/reeds/occasional verbalist David Boyce) but they continue to play a funky solution of jam-band friendly jazz (think Medeski, Martin and Wood or Soulive) with periodic tangents into more adventurous waters; influences from Eric Dolphy and Sun Ra are apparent. Thrown into the mix is a hip-hop bounce reminiscent of the Native Tongues movement and an almost happy-silly-get-down vibe.

In any event, I went to Rasputin's to look for the new Me'Shell N'degeocello album (look for it folks, as it will be smokin') and ended up finding the Broun Fellinis original cassette-only release, 3 Laughs for $1.95 in a bargin bin. It features -obviously- the original line-up and has some brilliant performances, most notably Clyde the Sprinting Hippo and Botticelli's Roommate

Feeling Frippish

So I recently fell upon an online "book" about musical visionary Robert Fripp, covering his earliest days until roughly 1990. It is a worthwhile read. My first exposure to Fripp -pun intended- was via early King Crimson, which I found ok at the time (I was 13-14 and it was the late 1980s), but would later be attracted to the early 1980s incarnation. It took a good decade before I fully *got* not only Krim, but got fully immersed into Fripp's catalogue (as well as Bruford). I became fond of his work with Brian Eno and Peter Gabriel, and eventually overcame my fickleness over early David Bowie and really enjoyed Heroes. Of note, Mr. Fripp is currently touring solo showcasing his ambient Frippertronic Soundscapesmaterial as the opening act for brooding art-rock act Porcupine Tree throughout the month of June.

On a completely different track I recently found a fellow DA user with a lo-fi sound coming from up north (Canada specifically). Check out Gil Spectrum.


I was thinking this might be useful for propagating some interesting music video sub-cultures. So many unsigned (and some signed even) have found the internet a useful vehicle for transmission of their sound, maybe this will facilitate making concert footage and their own homebrewed videos an easy process as well.