Kate Bush - Withering Sights

Now I have admired Kate Bush as a recording artists since I first heard Running Up That Hill in 1985. It also had an ok video. Later, I saw Cloudbusting, which was a great bit of visual storytelling which featured Kate and a less worn looking Donald Sutherland playing a kind of Wilhelm Reich figure. But while Kate is an impeccable artist with sound, most of her videos are atrocious. As in way bad atrocious.
Like supercalafragilisticexpihellatrocious.

Case in point, these shots are from her first video in 1978, for Wuthering Heights. I did not intentionally pick unflattering shots of the normally attractive Miss Kate. All of the vid makes her look like a damaged street transient in a very clean gown, fresh out of the asylum. Lots of dry ice, cartwheels, and modern interpretive dance, with a little ballet and a lot of cringe-inducing shots. Granted, this was 1978, and budgets were nil and concepts thin. But good grief. She has been often compared to Peter Gabriel, which in many aspects is a fair parallel to draw, but not in terms of video quality.

Thankfully, her earliest material is also her worst. And while she has put out some sophmoric videos since (i.e. Love and Anger) she generally has done better for herself. One has to wonder what she will release with the coming of her first album in a dozen years, Aerial, due out next month.

Everything Sounds like Coldplay Now

It does. Not really, but still.

Youthful Devo-tees

These are the weirdest grade-schoolers...ever. Mark Mothersbaugh would be proud (or frightened).

Goldfrapp on TOTP

So I caught a perfromance on TOTP of Goldfrapp actually playing a live version of Strict Machine. Outside of the mildly hot USO meets bargain airline stewartdess fetish getup of Alison Goldfrapp, this band is not the most interesting to watch, and certainly not a vivacious troop on stage. Frankly, they are dull dull dull. But they did sound good, and given that this is a musical performance, that still counts for something.

The whole show struck me like a bizarre tribute to Blondie by very subdued Britons after finding out ManU lost to AC Milan.

How nigh?

It appears Barbra Streisand is back. Babs the Queen Bee of the self-absorbed and irony-free diva crone set, has recorded another solo album, and one that reunited her with Bee Gee Barry Gibb.

How many seals are left to break before the Apocalypse again?

More fun from the labels:

Avoiding common sense and basic principles of economics (not that it has stopped label heads and their ludicrously reality-impaired goonsquad the RIAA), they have been trying to squeeze money out of anyones pockets they can, no matter how far afield, as long as it had something to do with sound going in your ear. I am amazed they haven't started suing doctors who specialize in Otolaryngology (Ear/Nose/Throat) for a cut.

On that note, I have not read the Joy of Tech in many a month, maybe even a year or two, but this one popped up and was actually quite funny. I met Nitrozac once. Funny gal, very polite and well-mannered. I think it was the first LWCE, so nice gals who were well-mannered (and hygenic) were mostly marketing people for PR firms.

Erik Truffaz - Saloua

Erik Truffaz
Saloua
2005 Blue Note



So I first found out about Mssr. Truffaz when I got a cut-out bin copy of his Blue Note debut, The Mask, several years ago. It was very Miles derivative, but had some imaginative twists, not the least of which being a penchant for cutting edge electronics, textural segues and ethnic flourishes that were not so much window dressing as much as bright strands woven into a more subtle tapestry. He has since been producing a steady stream of such releases, each one showing those same tendencies, but not a boring sameness. He is part of that small clutch of very glaring Miles Davis-inspired trumpeters who also exhibit Miles' tendency towards experimentation and not sitting still. Names like Wallace Roney, Nils Petter Molvaer, Dave Douglas and Tim Hagans come to mind.

Saloua is not quite as good as its predecessor, Walk of the Giant Turtle, and I'm still trying to decide if I dig it more than I think I do. I picked up a promo copy about a month prior to release, and that was in July. I am still taking it in. It has a heavy North African/Arabic element, which generally appeals, particulary since the music evokes a sense of space much like an ascetic desert expanse. Purifying, haunting, from one view desolate, from another liberating. The use of sung vocals in Arabic --on cuts like Ines for example-- is perfect. It is like a call from the minnaret to come to the jazz club. Other vocals, as the english rap on Big Wheel is hopelessly clumsy and preachy, with a backing track that seems pedestrian. However, the spiralling grooves, and trading vocals between the Arabic (by Nya) and the English rhymes (by Mounir Troudi) works on the track Yarbous, although like Big Wheel they are a little bit on the Bono-side of soapbox saccarine. About a third of the tracks have some form of vocals.

His rhytm section is his secret weapon; they are very much in sync, using samples and a broad palette of beat science methods to build grooves and breaks for Truffaz to riff and ride over. Organic jungle swells into a post-bop flush and can eventually lead to lilting passages of laid back swinging psychedelica. This is ably assisted by the often offbeat guitar work; Manu Codija like to mix those tried and true jazz chord vamps with some grating noises, bleats, scratches, and manipulated debris to add a layer of tension that may otherwise not have been there.

Ghost Drummer should have been a 2 minutes segue/interlude track, not a 4+ minutes of slack filler. Spirale is bordering on avant-garde in its self-assembly and dissassembly. Dubophone is as its namesake, prodding a little spacey dub science into a meandering trumpet performance that sounds like someone having a friendly phone conversation with you. There is quite a bit of variety here.

Sherman Irby - Full Circle

Sherman Irby
Full Circle
1997 Blue Note

Produced by Andy Farber

Personnel:
Sherman Irby - Alto Saxophone
James Hurt - Piano
Eric Revis - Bass
Dana Murray, Charlie Persip - Drums

Sherman is a bit of a throwback to very traditional hard-bop, with an oddly wide, warm tone for an alto player. He also has two really excellent qualities balanced together: good chops and a sense of restraint. His playing is casual, unforced, and varied. He also knows how to pick some good sidemen; the tragically underrated James Hurt is the secret centerpiece of his backing unit, and his meticulous attention to nuance and shifting forms gives the material some swagger it would probably lack with someone else in the piano chair. Revis and Murray are a functional, well-matched pair for the beat department, and the guest spot of Charlie Persip on the Tadd Dameron standard Wee is perfect (seeing as Persip had played with Dameron way back in the day y'all, and he also played on some heavy dates with Dolphy, Dizzy, and Roland Kirk).

Most of the tracks are Irby originals, and of them all, Betty the Baptist and Mamma Faye stand out really well. They are set both as a blues with a heavy dose of southern church spirituals. A little bit of sorrow, and a little bit of hope, they play out very good on the ears, with Mamma Faye featuring a rather loose piano break that seems oddly Monkish were it not so busy. The rest of the Irby-penned tracks are certainly good, but do not stand out as future standards, and really fall into similar territory. Irby isn't innovative, but he is an excellent player within a stylistic gamut. He does not suffer from the ofttimes mechanical playing of guys like Wynton Marsalis and Joshua Redman.

There are two covers; the aforementioned Wee, which is played with a playfulness and shows that Sherm has chops to spare, able to play the fast-turn phrases and the note-cramming that it requires. The other is of Giant Steps, which is ambitious (everyone has to take a stab at Trane I suppose) and Irby certainly does not insult the spirit of it, but he seems to lack something. He does not seem to be also to let loose and flow, and his tone is not quite full enough on it. It is however, a hell of a showcase for Hurt, who dances, cajoles and coerces sheets of notes in spots, without sounding like he is trying to showboat, and comps with wit and charm in others. If anything, he seems to invoke a reverence of Trane more than anyone else on it, largely by being irreverent and daring.

A decent buy in the used bin, and if you like this, his follow up, Big Mama's Biscuits is not a shabby follow up (also on Blue Note).

Bomb - Hate Fed Love

Bomb
Hate Fed Love
1992 Reprise Records

This is one of the very very few records with involvement from Bill Laswell I would categorically never recommend to anyone. While the production quality is above par, the actual music is deplorable and insufferably boring. A half-baked amalgamation of what sounds like a sludgier, slowed down Machines of Loving Grace stripped of most of the electronics and sense of groove, given psychedelics, and singing super-angsty, super-inane drivel by a guy with a vocal delivery lacking control of pitch, key, melody or any other tonal requirement to be singing.

I bought it in a cut out bin at Rasputin records, with a sticker that said non returnable. Now I know why.

OK Go

OK Go
2002 Capitol Records

OK Go is a Chicago band formed in the late 1990s that sound roughly like Hanson meets some pop-punk fetish party where everyone chews speed-laced bubblegum and pogos like a spastic junior-high ritalin victim. I picked up their eponymous debut in a cutout bin for less than 3 bucks on the sole connection that it had some guitarwork by Wendy Melvoin. I was both impressed and disappointed with what I ended up hearing. It has some above par lyrics (even downright sharp) in spots, but in other places comes off like a less glam-happy Caviar circa Tangerine Speedo. Also the musicianship is hit and miss, with some songs standing out in sharp relief against a certain sameness of filler musical backdrops. They somewhat oversimplify when a more daring approach might have served them better, and they brought in some heavy hitters: Melvoin (Prince, Seal, Me'Shell Ndegeocello, Eric Clapton), Josh Freese (A Perfect Circle, Xtra Large), Matt Chamberlin (New Bohemians, Pearl Jam, Critters Buggin), Jon Brion (Fiona Apple) which may or may not have been pushed to their optimal utility.

But this is a good debut. It isn't sloppy, and it isn't stupid. The performances are tight and the content has a giddy if not altogether clever vibe. But its full potential was not reached.

New Releases

1. Number one in every way shape and form this week is the latest monster box set from Columbia: Miles Davis The Cellar Door Sessions 1970 is six cd's of elemental force from 1970. Like all of the box sets Columbia has been releasing, expect pristine packaging, extensive liner notes, ample unreleased and rare material, and impeccable sound quality. The Dark Prince lives on through his music.

2. Blackalicious The Craft has guests like George Clinton and Lyrics Born, so how bad can it be? Given track records, this looks like a winner.

3. Craig Chaquico , whose artistic apex was as a guitarist with neutered AOR band Starship, puts out Holiday, a collection of sonic Sominex. Avoid like sonic bubonic, since his post Starship material has been exclsuively new-age/quiet storm boredom that makes Najee seem like Slayer by contrast.

4. I first heard of Rusty Anderson when he did session work for Animal Logic, and apparently he has maintained a solid session career since. But now he struts out with Undressing Underwater , which features past employers Paul McCartney and Stewart Copeland. I am tentative, since my instincts say it could very well be flat and bland, but I would definately like to find this in a sampling booth at Tower or in the used section of CD Warehouse so I could take a listen before passing prelimianry judgement.

5. DJ Jazzy Jeff proves that he has the musical talent and that Will Smith should stick to acting. The Soul Mixtape continues along the path of his past efforts: funky, slick, and like his Philly co-hort King Britt, exhibits a lighthearted vibe while pushing some heavy groove weight.

6. Thelonious Monk Quartet with John Coltrane Live at Carnegie Hall. Culled from a previously unreleased 1957 performance together, there is only one thing to say here: BUY THIS! Stuff like this explains why Monk and COltrane were not musicians, but beings of transcendental character. Prophets of sound.

7. Wallace Roney - Mystikal appears to be a continuation of last years Prototype, a great release that translated extremely well live (the missus and I caught his performance at Yoshis). While he gets branded as a Miles-clone, as years go on I think it becomes more and more apparent that he is merely informed by Miles's tendencies, rather than a strict mimicry of form and tone. He has really ground the entire Miles canon from the late 60s through the mid 80s into a fine sonic pixie-dust that spices his own repetoire without being the actual meat of it. His own playing is more muscular and less enigmatic, but exhibits the same openness and earthiness.

8. Lafayette Gilchrist puts out his sophomore effort, Toward the Shining Path, which given the understated brilliance of his debut, could be quite promising. He was executive produced by multi-culti muso Vernon Reid, and holds a seat in the equally diverse David Murrays travelling ensemble. His own work also reflects that vagabond approach, with bits of delta blues, DC go-go, and Monkish abandon. His playing is dark and funky, akin to some of the stuff by Marc Cary and James Hurt.

9. Nexterday is the latest from Cars frontman Rik Ocasek. Given that I have not heard any of his solo material since Fireball Zone, I can only speculate, but this album apparently harkens back to his early Cars material and has involvement from Daryl Jenifer from Bad Brains involved, which piques my interest by default.

10. Carmen Rizzo is a longtime studio knob-twiddler for just about everyone in LA and NYC. But after years of being on others albums, he is putting out The Lost Art of the Idle Moment with a long list of great guest talent (including former clients): Esthero, Dierdre Dubois (ex-Ekova), Jamie Muhoberac (Seal, Jon Hassell), Grant Lee Phillips, and Ladybug Mecca (ex-Digable Planets). Looks on paper quite promising, and given his track record --he's worked with everyone from Alanis Morrisette to Wendy & Lisa-- it will at least *sound* good.

11. The Dream Academy has been in the ears of many long forgotten, but it looks like this wayward trios second and third albums are getting re-issued as a single cd package this month. Remembrance Days/A Different Kind of Weather features Lindsay Buckingham (Fleetwood Mac) and David Gilmour (Pink Floyd, who has worked with DA's Nick Laird-Clowes on writing for Pink Floyd's The Division Bell) and some of the most intriguing, albeit inconsistent psychedelic folk-pop of the 80s. It stands up well a decade or two later.

12. A DVD of live Blind Melon from 1995, called Live at the Metro is being released. Why?

John Wetton: The Anthology

So I managed to rent and view John Wetton: The Anthology and came away pretty much of the same opinion as I was prior to watching; John has been part of some of the most brilliant and most dim musical voyages in rock since the 1970s. In the latter category, there is some archival footage of him with Uriah Heep and with later editions of Asia, which produced some of the schlockiest aural contortions of skuzz-rock and bland MOR ever. When I hear cuts like One Way or Another by UH, or the Steve Jones penned Days Like These, I cringe. But then to see it performed by scrap-metal morons in frayed rocker follicle halos, tight leather pants and a kind of Spinal Tap mystique about them, its enough to make you gouge your ears out with olive forks.

That being said, the live footage of the early Asia material is decent, and shows that not only was Geoff Downes an able keyboard player far too maligned by the Keith Emerson and Rick Wakeman fanboy set, but that Wetton could sing well, even when feathered hair was at its apex stylistically.

The better celections are either performances of King Crimson material by himself or with a band of younger players, or with UK. While it certainly is not the same without Robert Fripp, Bill Bruford, David Cross and Jamie Muir (frankly his bands in those performances is adequate but hardly worth mention outside of being functional), Wetton can still sing the material and his basswork still has more than a passing semblance of his old low-end growl. Wetton is not the most articulate bassist, but given the right material, he could provide a clobbering, corroded collection of low-frequency destruction during his later years in KC. Of particular note is Red and the solo acoustic versions of Starless and Book of Saturday. The UK tracks are also solid, but not necessarily ones I would have expected; In the Dead of Night was somewhat obvious, but Rendevouz 6:02 was not, as I would have expected/preferred something like Time To Kill.

I don't know if I would recommend buying this, unless you are a diehard Wetton/KC/Asia/UK fan. Other than that, it is worth a rental, and I know Netflix stocks it. There is no interview or other bonus commentary material and it is not as comprehensive as one would probably want.

Prefabescence

Only Paddy McAloon (of Prefab Sprout) could write a ridiculously catchy pop tune about infatuation called The Yearning Loins.

Mark Hollis

Mark Hollis
Mark Hollis
1998 Polydor

Produced/arranged by Mark Hollis & Wayne Livesey with Phil Ramacon, and Dominic Miller

Mark Hollis - guitar and vocals
Dominic Miller, Robbie MacIntosh - guitar
Lawrence Pendrous - paino and harmonium
Martin Ditcham - drums and percussion
+ various others

A long time ago (1982 to be precise) on a Billboard chart far away was a slightly odd new romantic band called Talk Talk. They made an album of fluffy, questionable pop. They then went a produced four more albums in a progression that is all but unheard of in rock. They willfully chose to move from Simmons drum pads and precise, elastic electric bass figures to what has been described as the birth of post-rock or at the very least, a parallel to the developments of other compositional heavyweights as David Sylvian and the less accessible side of Peter Gabriel. A group, led by Mark Hollis, that decided --much to the chagrin of their record company EMI-- that they had music to make. It would be beautiful, it would be personal. It would be brilliant. But it will not pander to anyones marketing plan.

And then they were gone. By 1991 it was over for Talk Talk and Hollis went largely into seclusion. The seven years later he very quietly released a self-titled quiet album which quietly faded into the ether, along with Hollis. He has not been heard from since 1998 musically and barely otherwise.

It starts off with The Colour of Spring, a sparse but structured piano figure and Hollis, that fills the space fully. Elegaic and earnest. The second track, Watershed, has Hollis delving into a melancholy cponversation with no one he is willing to sepcify, but the delicate percussion and woodwinds provide a somber backdrop to a fractured, repeating acoustic guitar. It is loose, informal and by the time the muted trumpet kicks in, staggeringly beautiful to the ears. This feeling is somethingthat will follow you throughout the length of the album, which is painfully brief at under 50 minutes. But maybe that sense of wanting makes the album that much more worthy of its intentions. There is no waste. This is stripped to only the most essential elements. And that purity is a lavish affair for the ears.

It is not coarse sounding, but some of the emotions are quite raw, even when the presentation makes it appear as if one has resigned oneself to their fate and is only reciting the narratives for the record. If anything, the album is so quiet as to make the only real place to listen to it properly is a very still night when you want the appearance of personal serenity but are in fact using the album as a means to plumb the basements of your private self. It isn't dark or even depressive necessarily, just melanchoic to the point of seemingly distilled to that feelings essence. Songs like Westward Bound and Inside Looking Out carry an earthiness and almost pastoral simplicity that bely the complexity in the arrangements. Instruments flit in and out of focus in fragments and meandering phrases. Nothing bombards you; bassoons, cor angalis, clarinets and brass mix with a core of guitars provided by Hollis and Dominic Miller and percussion by Martin Ditcham, all of which sound out of character from what their dayjobs working for people like Sting, Sade, Level 42 and Chris rea would suggest. What they help fill out against the deeply personal, but pithy, subtle lyrical structures Hollis provides is admirable.

This album is so beautiful, so pure, so without any blemish that doesn't belong there.

Find it. Buy it.

A Catch in the Rai

No review really; just wanted to give props to Rachid Taha and his latest album (including a rather tongue in cheek version of the Clash's Rock the Casbah in Arabic) , Tekitoi. His raspy growl rolls all over a clean, serrating mix of electronics, slashing guitars, and stacks of North African percussion and strings. Even if you do not speak Arabic or French, its a fun album. I think there has been a new release of it with a DVD, but oh well. His Made in Medina album --featuring Stanton Moore of Galactic and Garage a Trois on drums-- is also a great find.

Coldfinger - Lefthand

Coldfinger
Lefthand
Nortesul Producoes
2000

Production: Joe Fossard, Cardona, Renoiser, Lisbon City Rockers

Personnel: Cardona - acoustic/electric guitar, programming/synths, moog, rhodes, hammond
Margarido Pinto - vocals, rhodes/keyboards

Additional Personnel:
Joe Fossard - mixing, programming
Francisco Rebelo - Bass
Bhuda+Jaws - programming
DJ Cruzfader - scratches and samples
Alexandre Frazao - drums
Adriano - contrabass

www.valentim.pt
sindikat@esoterica.pt

So, I am cruising through the "world music" section of my favourite Rasputin Records outlet (read: World Music = anything not in English), and I always do the same thing....go to the Portuguese section and be disappointed. Having been born of Azorean/Portuguese stock, speaking the language since birth, and having a general affinity for all things Lusophonic, I am almost always let down when cruising through music stores looking for something interesting; they either do not stock anything at all, or only carry very traditional folk stuff (which is not bad, merely leaves the casual observer with a very limited view) or they carry the same four artists:Mariza, Misia, Madredeus, or Amalia Rodrigues. When you consider the only other Portuguese pop musicians most people have heard are folks people don't even think of as Portuguese (i.e. Nelly Furtado, Steve Perry, Nuno Bettencourt, Jason Kay of Jamiroquai), it can get disheartening, especially in lieu of the recent interest in Latin and Brazilian music (not to mention the barefoot diva from Cabo verde, Cesaria Evora). When I saw Coldfinger in the stack I initially thought it was placed there on mistake. I then re-examined it and found it was in fact, really from there, and I just said "Fuck it...I'll take the risk". I am glad to say this has been the best surprise find of the year.

It is not the most original record, but it is certainly one of the most well performed and recorded. It cuts a wide arc of space that encapsulates acid-jazz, funk, drum & bass, soul, trip-hop and abstract electronica into a lush and vibrant palette of rich sound. It goes from bubbly and driven to spooky and intoxicating, and as a bonus, actually pops a song or two in Portuguese....just to make guys like me feel all ethnic. It is too bad that this album will probably never get as wide an exposure as it deserves - it fits wonderfully in my collection left of Portishead and LTJ Bukem and right of Headhunters and the mellower side ofBill Laswell.

So, first lets talk about the vocals (since we're already kind of in that area)...Margarida Pinto is absolutely amazing. Able to teleport from a Beth Gibbons-style distraught drone to a seductive and sultry Shirley Bassey-esque growl that seems to have caused the elastic in my underwear to melt (it helps that what few photos I've been able to find -all headshots- seem to indicate that Margarida in definately within the hottie range of the feminine spectrum). She can seem distant and so close as to be seeping under you skin at the same time. I was really surprised not only at the expressiveness of her vocals, but that she seems to sing equally well in English as she does Portugues - all the tracks but 2 are in English.

I cannot tell where her Fender Rhodes playing ends and Cardona's begins, but the both seem to have been listening to a lot of Herbie Hancock circa the Sextant/Thrust period. I would like to note, this is a good thing. All of the various keyboard sounds are not overbearing - layered, but sparse so as to fill up the sound without hampering its movement under its own weight. Complimenting this is the regular contributions by bassist Francisco Rebelo, who has a very warm, organic bottom-end to weave through the synths and samples. Cardona does a more than adequate job on guitars, opting for textures and sound sculpturing a la Stuart Mattewman of Sade and Maxwell fame, rather than funking too heavily or resorting to wah-wah pedal wankery. The beats -whether helped along by trap-kit man Alexandre Frazao, or drum-programmed by several folks- is minimalist and narcotic. You will not be pummelled by backbeats or bludgeoned with hyperactive breaks; just addictive rhythm and stealth.

The opening track, Para Um Poema is a great start - slow, brooding and luxurious. It sets the mood through the next few songs (Beauty of You, CBlues, and DFuse Line) until Lucky Star kicks in with some high-bpm drum & bass goodness...frenetic, punchy, and full of the requisite underwater ping sounds and stop-start beat splicing that is indicative of many practicioners of the genre, although this time replete with upright bass that anchors the groove well. Liquid sounds like its title, but it is also a very dark and claustrophobic track that uses Margarida's menacing vocals and symphonic string samples to force it's hard beat science on you. It, along with Crimes is very reminiscient of much of the work of UK techno-demigods Leftfield, minus the heavy dub influence. Mondo is sung in a scat style over a sneaky brush-beat and periodic hip-hop assistance via DJ Cruzfader (who I think has also been listening to Herbie Hancock - mostly Future Shock I would guess, since it almost seems likes he's copping licks from Rockit). B.Comi comes off a little contrived and lacking direction; it sounds too much like Portishead played at double speed. Mood Turb is a bluesy, bubbly track with hammond organ and a jazzy feel that's obscured by smoke and alcohol and makes you think you've been airdropped into a Cool-Jazz joint run by Lenny White and A Tribe Called Quest, a mood that is revisited on the album close, The Tree and The Bird. Duke Interlude and Trans Interlude are interesting half-baked ideas that would have been better off either fleshed out further or left off the album, but aren't too distracting thankfully.

So as I write this I have had the cd on a continuous loop...it just keeps getting better with each listen. It never second guesses, it starts you off casually, builds you up, let's you glide comfortably, gives you a nudge here and there - and never lets it's deep embrace constrict or diffuse. All in all one of the best offerings of its kind (in any language).

Muito prazer Coldfinger.

New Releases

Agent Sparks Not So Merry is produced by Mike Einziger of Incubus, and that is the only interesting fact I can find on these guys. But hope springs eternal.

Anthrax releases both Alive2 & Anthrology: No Hit Wonders - from one of the NYCs finest noisemakers. I can't say I enjoyed the return of Belladonna to the vocal spot (he isn't James LaBrie, but he still is annoying and I was much ahppier with John Bush as a frontman)

Bif Naked is a Superbeautifulmonster ,which also happens to be her latest - Probably more of the same from Bif, but that is generally a good thing.

Yngwie Malmsteen Concerto Suite for Electric Guitar and Orchestra. Yngwie is the most brain damaged moron to ever make guitar painful to listen to. Brickheaded pretension set to strings. Can't some Scandanavian death metal band just seek and destroy this insult to sound?

Mr. Oizo puts out their sophomore full length Moustache. One has to wonder if they'll keep the spastic sock puppet as a mascot.

Astralwerks is doing some reissues, including both Ha!, Revelations, and What's This For! from Killing Joke. Good on them.

The Bad Plus have a new album, Suspicious Activity? which continues in their semi-out, semi-off jazz experiements. Having heard their first two releases and seen them live (opening for Jason Moran 2 years ago) I can say they are somewhat overrated. I think they have drawn a lot of attention for their offbeat band persona and use of whacked out rock covers to draw attention, but otherwise they are just a competant jazz trio. For a real challenge, go see Jason Moran (which will probably make you understand why he was a headliner and they were opening).

Dave Douglas, who puts out albums at a pretty rapid clip, has Keystone out this month. If past albums are any indication, it will be at worst very derivative of something Miles has done, and that isn't a bad thing necessarily. I actually like Dave in general, sinec he does like to take risks and has no problem shifting gears from album to album and playing with different approaches and bases of material.

Earth, Wind & Fire are still going, and one has to sometimes wonder why. Illumination is the newest and I know next to nada about it other than it features some big hip-hop heavy hitters like Big Boi from Outkast and will.i.am from BEP. EWF albums as of late have veered a little too close to pop-jazz or watered down R&B (with better vocals) with only a couple songs on each release having a real fire. I am hoping that with the resurgence of interest in the past few years have rejuvenated Maurice White to take the reins and ride the groove hard again. While I doubt they will produce another Powerlight or Thats The Way of the World, but I can hope they do better than 2003s The Promise.

Jay Kay leads Jamiroquai to new heights with Dynamite, and thankfully this finally gets a US domestic release, after already being out in Europe and Asia for months. Featuring one of the best funk jams of 2005, the feral Feels Just Like it Should as a lead off single, this will most likely be ignored here in the states, which is a shame, since we could use more Jamiroquai and less of almost everything else on radio these days.

The Very Best of the Skids

The Skids
The Very Best of...
2003 EMI Records

Released shortly after the rather tragic passing of Stuart Adamson, this collection marks a fitting catalog of best bits from one of the most underappreciated rock bands Dunfermline, Scotland produced. Co-led by Adamson and Richard Jobson, the Skids have often been seen by outsiders as the band Adamson was in before founding Big Country (a band Adamson would lead for decades, up to its dissolution at his death), but the Skids stood well on their own. Many of the trademarks of the anthemic Big Country sound were there in a more punked out form: punchy and infectious melodies, often using big, epic guitar riffs with a more than passing sense of being inherently Scottish by design. Those riffs are really apparent in cuts like the opener, Charles and in Goodbye Civilian and Working for The Yankee Dollar (from the Bill Nelson produced Days in Europa). Most of the first half of this collection strikes a good note.

Not all of their material flies as well as those, such as their rather pedestrian...well, no...more like lazy or sloppy rendition of the Lou Reed standard Walk on the Wild Side. It comes off like a b-side for an early Joan Jett album. Much of the second half of their existence gets inconsistent, particularly the post-Adamson material, which lacks the bright dynamics of the early days, and lyrics that seem that more pretentious than anything else. In some cases, songs like Fields, resembe second hand prototypes of Big Country's Fields of Fire. But even in cases like that, songs like the arty Masquerade and the melancholic and experimental Snakes and Ladders (a real departure) show you what was coming in New Wave/Post-punk, and how a band could expand their palette without totally losing sense of purpose.

They weren't the Pistols, or The Clash, but they were a decent band that probably deserved better recognition than they got at the time, and certainly should be enjoyed on their own merits and not just as a macabre footnote for Stuart Adamson.

New Nine Horses and a girl named Kate

Well, its new because it is a debut, but its a debut of people who are largely not new (nor equine).

Nine Horses is the name of the new outfit comprised of brothers David Sylvian and Steve Jansen, along with guests like Ryuichi Sakamoto in tow. The album is Snow Borne Sorrow, and looks to like like all other Sylvian/Jansen projects. Interesting and unique.

In related news, Mick Karn (who is a longtime collaborator with Jansen and off and on with Sylvian) plays on the new Kate Bush album. Yes I said Kate Bush. It only took her a decade to get it done. She is more and more like Peter Gabriel with cleavage. The album is Aerial and is due in early November, with the leadoff single King of the Mountain is due nest month. Mick also has a new EP out called Love's Glove.

Good News for Blentwell

It would appear that Blentwell is back in action with fresh aggregation of great mixes and sessions from all corners. Go say hi to the nice audiobloggers.

Material - Hallucination Engine

Bill Laswell is known both as a studio wizard producer and a sonic chameleon. On this, his third under the Material moniker, he assembles a vast array of varied talents to create one of his better recordings of the past decade. This review was initially written in 2002 for Intune.

Artist: Bill Laswell/Material
Album: Hallucination Engine
1994
Axiom/Island Records

Bill Laswell is prolific to say the least; usually putting out anywhere from 2 to 5 recordings a year (as producer, multi-instrumentalist, remixologist, arranger, or many times all of the above at once), and never the same one twice. From the avant punk-jazz with Peter Brotzmann to funk, world beat and trance hybrids and full remix albums of Bob Marley, Santana, Miles Davis and Trojan Records. There is very little this low-key New Yorker will not try, and the running army of prime time talent that consisently works with him in various seemingly incongruent settings is testimony to this.

Hallucination Engine is no exception, as it features an armada of a band: Wayne Shorter (Miles Davis, Weather Report), Bernie Worrell (P-Funk, Mos Def), Bootsy Collins (P-Funk), Shankar, Sly Dunbar (Sly & Robbie), Jonas Hellborg (Tony Williams, John McLaughlin), and Trilok Gurtu, not to mention several other percussionists and guitarists and a special stopover by William S. Burroughs.

Now, such a group could easily turn into a sloppy cacophony or a simple, dumb parade of 'names' , but Bill creates an album full of fluid motion and excellent arrangements of space.

The album starts with Black Light a Laswell/Shorter composition that is -compositionally- fairly reminiscent of Shorter during his tenure with Miles' quintet during the late 50s-early 60s; lyrical, spacious, and flowing soprano sax over a liquid drum loop, and complimeneted by solid basswork from Laswell (who occasionally sounds like Jah Wobble, and vice versa). Over the rest of the cd, one can hear various long-form (outside of Words of Advice all tracks clock between 7:30 and 13:00 minutes in length) travels across a worldly landscape that mixes dub with Sino inflences, spine-crushing funk with tablas and atmospheric synth washes. Electric Sitars and congas mix with fretless bass, B-3 Organs, and various beats and samples massaged into a firm but smooth sound. However, it never gets messy or seems forced. The whole album flows at a leisurely pace - not too fast on the run, and not so slow as to induce narcolepsy.

A great highlight is The Hidden Agenda/Naima which starts as a sparse percusion track, and quickly builds violin, Arabic vocals, and several guitars with a Bootsy bass burst hither and yon, turning the song inside out through several twists before reaching a stride covering the great jazz standard about John Coltrane's wife. The one track with narraration by Naked Lunch author William Burroughs in interesting, but somewhat detracts from the overall pace of the album, and its too bad it is set in the middle of the album.

Overall Hallucination Engine is an exceptionally coherent sonic sculpture with a well produced and mixed sound that is neither pretentious or underdeveloped. Considering the calibre of the talent, the performances are understated and well framed, instead of flashy, with the mixed set of elements never conflicting and is a lush offering from one of modern musics true iconoclasts.

Esthero - Wikked Lil Grrrlz

The album could qualify as a bridge between spaces like Gwen Stefani's L.A.M.B, Frou Frou's Details and various bits from places as far afield as early Bjork, Me'shell N'degeocello and Beyonce.

I bought this ages ago and do not have time to really write a fiull review yet, but wanted gto plug it because its good aural eats.

Talking Heads - Sp eak in gi n To ngu es

Talking Heads
Sp eak in gi n To ngu es
1983 Sire/Warner Bros. Records

Produced by Talking Heads

Personnel:
David Byrne, Jerry Harrison, Chris Frantz, Tina Weymouth

Additional Personnel:
Bernie Worrell, Wally Badarou, Nona Hendryx, Dolette Macdonald, Shankar, others

This was the first major mainstream success for Talking Heads; a veritable smash with Burning Down the House (their first top 10 hit) and the album rock radio staples Girlfriend is Better and Slippery People. They had worked with Brian Eno on their early efforts but this was a more internal affair, with mixing handled by the late Alex Sadkin (Simply Red, Grace Jones, Duran Duran), whose sound is evident here.

Full of Byrnes lyrical nonlinearity and a bouncy delivery that was part white-soul preacherman in revelatory ecstasy and part propellerhead nerdy outbursts. Making ample use of swampy blues figures and bubbly world beat offsets --a little African Highlife here, some Caribbean accents there-- sets the album as a sparse, funky effort with strident pop sensibility. The dub on I Get Wild/Wild Gravity and warped disco of Moon Rocks do not feel out of place in an album with the Delta blues informed Swamp and the very very New Wave of This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody). The use of versatile instrumentalists and vocalists like Bernie Worrell (Parliament-Funkadelic) and Dolette Macdonald (Sting, Joni Mitchell) are the spices that really make this weird musical gumbo stay consistently fun and interesting. Everything sounds like it belongs, but no two songs sound alike.

At their heart, Talking Heads were reformed post-punks with ridiculously Catholic tastes and the ambition to experiment without any hesitation, and almost always ending in successful results. That speaks loud and clear.

Awarding the Oblivious with the Obvious

So apparently, in a fit of stating what is so clear that it does not bear statement (but because the awardees are so daft that even clarity of this strength cannot make it past their daft-dermal layer), Skanky Spice and her hubbie the Braindead Footballer have been awarded the status of Most Pointless Celebrities in the UK (although I am sure their global rankings are quite high).

Having heard Vikkie Beckham's solo output and realized that she was in fact the most stupid and the most musically bereft of skill (even compared to that tone deaf barfly Geri "I'm Due for a Scandal of Some Sort to Revive my Career" Halliwell) of the entire Spice rack.

Wayback Machine: Concret Blonde at the GAMH

Originally written for Intune in Feb 2002.


After almost eight years out of the spotlight, Johnette Napolitano reforms Concrete Blonde for a solid night in San Francisco.

Next door to the world's most famous skin-club,the O'Farrell Theatre, (aka Mitchell Bros - a place that among other things, once boasted Hunter S. Thompson as its doorman, as well as the scandal around the murder of one of the Mitchell Brothers by the other) is the Great American Music Hall, a sumptuous edifice of balcony seating and open floor space decorated in a era long gone by (probably because its from that era) and in a similar vein to places like the Warfield and the Fillmore. It is a warm place, organic, womb-like, and exudes a dark, sensual character at the door. An ideal place for the emotionally rich and raw performance of CB.

CB was formed in the early 1980s and was originally very much in the same realm as X, Stan Ridgeway, and any number of other acts on Miles Copeland's I.R.S. label (yes, Miles, is the brother to Stewart). After early efforts produced a growing cult following, their third release Bloodletting produced a certified Top 10 hit in the depressingly poignant Joey. From there they produced two more albums before calling it quits. 2002 marks their return with a new album called Group Therapy and a live show with sufficient kick to make going out in winter on a weeknight worthwhile (ok, I live in California so that only means so much, but you get the idea).

The night began with a flamenco-flavoured act called Mojacan (a guitarist, a percussionist and a dancer)...musically fairly engaging, but the dancer was less then attractive and the contortions she made wwith her face made the dance seem like it was more torture than a form of beautiful experssion...too bad. Johnette actually joined them for a song or two and it was certainly a good act to warm up the audience. But after 30 minutes, the real reason we were all there was about to begin...

Johnette Napolitano (bass, keys, vocals) looks healthier than she has in a while. Happier too. She led Jim Mankey (guitar, bass on one song) and Harry Rushakoff (drums) through a riotous set of new and old material that shot out and kept rolling with no abatement for over an hour. They sounded clear, with Mankey's jangly 6-stringery and Rushakoff's post-pop-punk stomp keeping things lively with Johnette holding the low end down and the vocals soaring. Unlike many of her contemporaries, Johnette actually doesn't scream, she sings....impressively at that. She belts like a pissed off punk-diva invoking the spirit of Janis Joplin fueled by the memory of her own excesses and driven by the need to survive. It is pretty powerful mojo that goes on. I dared not get too close.

She covered some favorites, including a blasting God is a Bullet, Someday, and of course Joey (a song I never had much liking for, but took a whole new stance in a live setting). The only real downer for me were that two of my fave tracks from the CB oeuvre were not done...Ghost of a Texas Ladies Man and the exquisite Mexican Moon. It's ok, I still have the albums. The new material is great as well, and seems to keep going right from where they left off in 1995 - and that does not mean it sounds dated, it means it sounds like a natural progression rather than a jerky cut ahead.

The band was well received and gave of themselves freely, with Johnette speaking frankly and joking with the audience. All in all a worthwhile show from a band that had been gone way too bloody damn long.

Cindy Blackman - Someday...

Cindy Blackman
Someday...
2001 Highnote Records

Produced by Cindy Blackman

Personnel:
Cindy Blackman - drums
J.D. Allen - tenor sax
Carlton Holmes - piano, Fender Rhodes, keyboards
George Mitchell - bass

Cindy Blackman lives in two worlds. The more constrained one is where she dons a massive afro halo wig and bashes away as the live drummer for Lenny Kravitz or sessions for Joss Stone. The other is arguably her true calling and one she is infinitely suited for -- a jazz drummer and bandleader of great skill and aplomb.

I won't get into the "she's really good for a girl" shtick. It is a bloody stupid premise. Cindy Blackman is really, really good. Period. The fact is that she is probably one of the best drummers actively gigging today goes without saying, since she appears to be quite in demand and not short on offers. But while playing support for big name pop stars may bring in some good coin for the mortgage, its her own solo outings where you see the passion and the heat rise. Someday is a good example of that.

This release sits very well alongside the rest of her Highnote catalog (she has also done extensive recording with the Muse label, although much of the earlier material there leans more towards an M-Base style avant-funk bop), and this is a good thing. This is the second album with relative newcomers Allen/Holmes/Mitchell, but the results are just as coherent --albeit not always as dynamic-- as her albums with players of such repute as Gary Bartz, Ron Carter, Kenny Barron and Ravi Coltrane. It's neo-bop that fans of the Young Lions camp (the Marsalis clan, Joshua Redman) can not feel insulted by, but is not beholden to the rather staid principles it adheres to.

This is a clean, earthy record. Cuts like Glass Slippers and Heaven Sent sound like small stories set to a delicate shuffling beat. There are nods to Miles here, in both standards Someday My Prince Will Come and Walkin'. Even the Rogers and Hart classic My Funny Valentine seems performed with a leaning towards the way Miles would have played it way back when. Those tracks have Blackman operating in a very Tony Williams mode, which works incredibly well, and while Allen is no Wayne Shorter, his overall playing style bears a mild resemblance in his admirable use of space in lieu of cramming notes wherever possible. Holmes does a more than competant job on piano, but his Rhodes playing sounds a bit thin in spots (such as his Walkin' solo), and Holmes plays off of Blackman in a refined way, making his bass a concrete reference point for all the players to come back to.

In general, Blackman plays in a style that is fiery but not obnoxious. She has always exhibited a certain anxious power behind the kit, like a juggernaut aware that it could easily overwhelm, so chooses instead a consciously more subdued approach. She has a solid confidence in her playing and composing that seems to reflect a knowledge and lack of needing to prove anything that have made her solo outings consistently sounding mature and developed, even in the early years. About the only thing this album lacks is some of the real thermonuclear solos of her albums Telepathy and the Oracle. But that is somewhat unfair, as those albums were different sessions, with a different ambience to them. Someday is more about keeping things at a constant simmering rather than bursts of searing heat, and it works on this set.

You might like this if you like:

Greg Osby - Channel Three
Herbie Hancock - Empyrean Isles
Wayne Shorter - Adams Apple
Tony Williams - The Story of Neptune
Wynton Marsalis - Levee Low Moan

Me On...

...Emo:

Instrumentation-wise, the genre is fine with me. The problem I have had with it (outside of a fanbase with a desperate tendency for contrarian jibberish that vacillates between seeking legitimation and damning the same as a form of expressing faux rebellion), is largely the vocal style, which teeters on utterly pathetic.

The bulk of the vocals are tinny, whiny and so unmusical as to sound like a really petulant 6 year old having an amplified temper tantrum because his favorite underoos shrank in all the wrong places.

New Releases

Some new listens and a musing on one of todays popular genres:

1. I would normally not mention Tracy Chapman, as she hasn't really been worth mentioning since her sophomore release Crossroads, but the latest, called Where You Live, is produced by Tchad Blake, which automatically raises at least one eyebrow. Tchad is responsible for some of the better efforts from many artists: Wendy & Lisa, Soul Coughing, Tom Waits, Los Lobos, Suzanne Vega and Pearl Jam. His recording style is a heterodoxy of stripped down rock aesthetics with weirded out studio wizardry.

2. Trauma is the newest from DJ Quik, but whether it proves the assumption that rap is a young mans game is up for grabs. The last time I heard Quik do anything really ear grabbing was a decade ago guesting on a Toni Tone Tony record, so what he has to offer may be past its sell-by date. There are quite a few guest spots on this one; some good (Ludacris), some lame (Chingy), but I'd at least give it a test spin.

3. The debut by H.I.M. is being re-released for US markets. Why? Aren't the 15 minutes for this ridiculously bad, hamfisted, lovechild parody of the Sisters of Mercy and 5 Hanoi Rocks fans in gothic drag up yet?

4. Meanwhile, on the list of albums actually worth listening to, Jazzanova has released an album of remixes from the Bluenote Records vaults. It needs no explanation. It is simply by design a good thing. The cuts they select to work with are from some of Bluenotes finest: Herbie Hancock, James Moody, Horace Silver, Freddie Hubbard, Kenny Dorham, and Bobby Hutcherson are all there with quite a few others. Get tripped.

5. I did not even know that Gavin Rossdale (aka Mr. Gwen Stefani) dissolved Bush and started a new band, Institute. While that in and of itself would not really make much news for me, the fact that their debut is produced by Helmet's Page Hamilton does. This may be very worth looking into. Rossdale has an interesting voice, but most of the material of his days in Bush was derivative and uninspired to these ears. Hamilton's penchant for stripped down, full throttle, spineshanking aural crushing may be the jolt needed. The album is Distort Yourself.

6. In the please retire department, we have Paul McCartney making yet another hackneyed attempt at something relevant with Chaos and Creation in the Backyard. The man has not been able to muster an album worth stomaching for ages, and the last one of any real merit was 1989's Flowers in the Dirt (which had the benefit of Elvis Costello helping in the songwriting department). I have zero hope for this record, as Macca's triteness has gone from an occasional softheaded moment to the standard operating procedure for his output. Shut up Paul. P.S. it's Lennon/McCartney, not the other way around.

7. Queen return with vocalist Paul Rodgers (ex-Bad Company, the Firm). I have not heard anything about this one way or the other, but I admit I am quite curious as to what such a pairing would produce. Return of the Champions may be a cheeky title, but I actually hope a marriage of this kind actually works.

8. Soulive are one of the best things to happen to the b3 organ in many a year. Their latest funky affair, Breakout, moves further away from their instrumental organ trio roots, and finds them using numerous vocalists. Their previous studio album had Dave Matthews and Amel Larrieux, and this one has Chaka Khan, Corey Glover, and the funky New Orleans growl of Ivan Neville. Definitely a looker. Apparently they also guest on a forthcoming release from Dar Williams, which strikes me as odd, but potentially fun.

9. Santi White first gained some attention for her solid writing contributions to the debut by Res, but her own tendencies are more towards a stripped down punk, funk and garage rock style with her band Stiffed. Their newest, Burned Again, is produced by Bad Brains low end maintenance man, Daryl Jenifer. It is a damn fine collection of sharp music.

10. There is a DVD of Stéphane Sednaoui's videos out in the wild. You know him for his work with The Red Hot Chili Peppers and Bjork, but he has done a wide array of videos by a wider array of lesser-knowns, all of which are worth eyeballing.

Billy Cobham: Culturemix, The Paris Concert

I have seen Billy Cobham live twice. On the first occasion I sat no further than 3 feet from his trap kit and the second less than 20, so I know close up what to expect from a BC show.

This dvd concert is not a good BC show. It's dreck. Bland, tepidly played and unfocused smooth-jazz with extra chops. Marcos Ubeda is a boring, boring, boring (thats 3) keyboardist and the excessive use of steel drums by percussionist Junior Gill made some of the performances seem more appropriate to be played at a caribbean restaurant buffet than anything else. Per Gade and Stefan Rademacher on guitar and bass respectively, are a little more interesting, but just barely. Per is a deft soloist, but seems to operate almost in a vacuum and can't decide if he wants to be Pat Metheny or not. Rademacher keeps a solid groove with Cobham, but often seems drowned out in the mix. Billy himself plays admirably, and on a few sections even shows some real fire, but is otherwise very restrained. Restraint is not what you go to see at a BC show. You go to see tasty grooves, pummelling funkiness and intricate interplay.

Even the extra material offered little more than soundcheck inanities.

This one gets voted off the entertainment center island post haste.

I want that at my Nuptuals

A little rumor went about that sometime earlier this year Roxy Music's Phil Manzanera got hitched, and at his reception he played on stage with RM bandmate Andy MacKay, as well as Mike Rutherford (Genesis, Mike + The Mechanics), Bill Bruford (Yes, King Crimson, Earthworks), Kenny Jones (Small Faces, the Who) and David Gilmour (Pink Floyd).

Beats another DJ blaring Play That Funky Music White Boy.

Obsessive Morons

So I recently made the mistake of responding to a spastic Mariah fan in a music forum about how I do not find her to be " the legend, godess, diva, veteran, hero(no pun intended), genious, etc"

This was a mistake (we are all entitled to make them), because the 21 year old woman who responded back was a nutcase obsessive (by her own admission) that seemed about as untethered from the ground as can be. I loved music compulsively. But artists, even great ones, can do wrong. Sometimes often, sometimes as a one-off. And even if I love what they record, it does not mean I find them as people necessarily without blemish (nor do I think it really matters).

This one fixated on the "genious" aspect, to the point of making statements like Jessica Simpson has a 160 IQ (I doubt it) and that you have to be bright to do well in the industry for so long. Ozzy, Britney and Beyonce proves that incorrect right up front. If these people did not have good managers they would be rocking in North London pubs punch drunk, working at Hooters, or in Vegas on some Tina Turner tribute show.

She claimed Mariah was like a female Elvis and was comperable to the Beatles. I about laughed out of my chair. Both the Pelvic One and the Fab Four eclipse her sales figures by a wide margin, and certainly in terms of overall influence leave her to mostly inspire young pageant girls and camp bar acts across the universe.

The menatl half-pint then proceeded to start a tack where I must be berating Mariah because she is a woman. Outside of patent stupidity, I couldn't think of why the gender card was played, but desperation makes for strange tactics.

Mariah can sing respectably, and actually sounds decent when she isn't resorting to all the melismatic whoops and octave dives that the last generation of post-Whitney larynx contortionists have often done (Xtina and Whitney and Mariah are the worst offenders of almost pretentiously showcasing their range, even when the material suffers for it). Having a concept of restraint has taken her some years to grasp (Mahalia Jackson she ain't) but it's to her benefit.

She, like Madonna is smart enough to work with decent production staff, which makes her otherwise indistinct material considerably fuller sounding. R&B music in general in the US has been suffering from a cyclical malaise. Flat, recycled motifs have been beaten to death, buried and exhumed for re-beating. Occasionally you will get mainstream standouts like some of Janet Jackson's recent albums or you will see a left turn like the rise of more Jamaican dancehall styles (i.e. Rihanna)*, but otherwise the bulk of interesting soul music has been largely underground or off-MTV, usually relegated to the neo-soul camp or even further removed (i.e. Res, Esthero, Me'Shell Ndegeocello, Beady Belle, or Cassandra Wilson). Some of them have astonishing range, but most often the technical strength of the voice is secondary to its expressiveness, and the ingenuity comes out in the material.

Mariah is not bleeding edge, or even particularly retro, but she does for the most part know the craft aspect of recording and performance, and in that regard her albums are technical marvels. Clean, well-mixed (if to the point of sterility at times, especially in the early recordings) and otherwise inoffensive to even the most dull ear.

I can't gush obsessively over any artist really (even those who I have a near completist attitude towards), and I find Mariah to largely be a waste. She is perfectly capable of singing less dogmatically and working with better material, but chooses the LCD soft-jam pop-soul that just sells units and is otherwise largely disposable. You can still love the stuff (hey, I like Kylie Minogue's more recent material, and it's so fluffy I'm surprised the cds don't float in the air) but I can't take it for more than it is -- pleasant, pop pabulum.

* The upsurge of which I attribute to the growth of dub and dancehall in the UK club scene, with folks like Lady Saw, Sizzla, and Lady Sovereign.

Natural Disaster Relief from an Unnatural Musical Disaster

Whacko Jacko, having given up Neverland Ranch for the Sultanate of Bahrain, will be recording a benefit single for Katrina relief. While I applaud any action that gets help to the victims of that disaster, the whole Michael Jackson angle strikes me as some insidious PR move and really unsettling. Apparently it will be released on a label owned by the crown prince of Bahrain, which somewhat adds to the weird vibe.

Can we be Phranc?

15+ years ago there was this rootsy lesbian Jewish folksinger who had friends like El Vez (playing together in a punk band apparently). Her name was Phranc Gottleib and she made a couple of albums which never impressed me much but made some indie waves back in the day. Now apparently she looks just as she did in her heyday (like a 50s diner wait staff/Buddy Holly roadie-refugee) and sells Tupperware.

I have no punchline for this (other than what is intrinsically there) so I take a small bow and ponder more Where are They Now possibilities.

Headfakery

So the busiest beat-section in music these days, Will Calhoun and Doug Wimbish, will be delivering their debut album under the Head>>fake name in what looks to be October/November 2005, with guests spots from Shara Nelson (ex-Massive Attack), Skip McDonald & Keith LeBlanc (Little Axe), and a few surprises. It looks to be a major mix of electronica, funk, and experiheavymental excursions that have become the hallmark of this rhythm section.

They recently opened for Garbage at the Montreux Festival, and over the past few years had used Head>>fake between other session work (i.e. Dhafer Youssef, Herb Alpert, David Garza) along with their other commitments; both are in Living Colour , Jungle Funk (with Vinx) and Black Jack Johnson (with Mos Def, Bernie Worrell and Dr. Know). Will also has a jazz quintet and Doug remains a critical component of the On-U Sound/Tack>>Head massive.

Look out for it.

Where's Gilles?

Gilles Peterson is the greatest DJ to have ever walked the Earth. And walked it he has, most notably of late in Africa and Brazil. He could have retired after founding the Acid Jazz label and secured a place in history, but he up and starts a second great label, Talkin' Loud. Then he proceeds to add some much needed soul to BBC Radio One (IMO, he is only bested by John Peel in terms of impact).

The GP in Africa collection is just a great collection. Not a bum pick in the set.

Porcupine Tree - Deadwing

Porcupine Tree
Deadwing
Lava/Atlantic 2005

Porcupine Tree are odd. Really odd. In a good way mostly. Started by frontman and guitarist Steve Wilson as a sideproject (his main focus initially being his duet with Tim Bowness known as no-Man), it eventually morphed into his most high profile gig. Maybe rightfully so.

PT is lumped into the resurrected prog-rock camp, and by all accounts this is not an incorrect label. The fact that while there are certain tendencies --concept albums, long tracks, technically intricate musicianship-- put them squarely in that realm, they also lack the self-absorbed pretension and megalomaniacal elitism so endemic to the prog and prog-metal camps. They just kind of do their own thing. Rightfully so.

Deadwing marks a bit of a return to some of the pastoral tendencies of their earlier works, and marries it to the metal-tinged bombast of their major label debut In Absentia. Deadwing is their most well crafted release to date. And while it is arguably their best musically since Lightbulb Sun, lyrically it is quite patchy, with the title track being a particular lowpoint in the bands entire catalog. It is the first album where I think we finally get to hear the full contributions of keyboardist Richard Barbieri (yes, the Richard Barbieri, formerly of new romantics Japan)* whose use of analog synths exclusively makes for an ethereal, warm fullness atypical and seemingly at odds with the norm and is the lynchpin to the lushness in tracks like Halo and throughout various segues in the 12 minute opus Arriving Somewhere But Not Here. Gavin Harrison provides some of the most visceral drumming of his career, and certainly removed from his work with Incognito, and Level 42. It bears a striking resemblance to some of the artier collabrations he has done with Jakko Jaczysyk, only heavier and noisier. This is particularly evident on Glass Arm Shattering and Open Car. There is also some guest stunt guitar by Adrian Belew (King Crimson, Zappa, Talking Heads), which is always welcome.

Wilson himself provides both the strongest and weakest aspects upfront. His compositional tendencies and arrangements musically are impeccable, and his guitar playing is in fine form (his time spent producing Opeth seems to have left a strong influence on his own playing) but a few times seems to fall into nu-metal riffland. His vocals, which are functional if not overly distinct, are singing sometimes dreadful lyrics. He is capable of crafting better (and his back catalog proves this out) and didn't, and is only saved by the fact that the melodies are still interesting and inventive, and the surrounding sonic backdrop works. In the end though, the weaknesses do not kill off the strengths, and we have an album that mixes psychedelic space rock with metal, art-pop, folk and anything offbeat and inventive left in the kitchen sink into a quirky patchwork quilt of sound. It works. Rightfully so.

* Japan, outside of being a country in Asia, was also the name of one of the UK's greatest early 80s bands. It's four members (Barbieri, David Sylvian, Mick Karn, Steve Jansen) would go on to do a slew of avant-pop and fusion experiments in various configurations, a well as work with Robert Fripp, Holger Czukay, David Torn, Terry Bozzio, Ryuichi Sakamoto, Pete Townsend, Kate Bush, h (of Marillion), and many others.

Bloomberg has his priorities straight

In what is quite possibly the most intelligent move he has ever done (financially or politically), Bloomberg backs CBGB's.

Cool on Clarinets

The clarinet family is a tough instrument to play, and certainly has had a tough time in the sexiness department. Some players use it sparingly to great effect (notably bassists Mick Karn and Marcus Miller both use bass clarinets to create moody atmospherics, but its use is relegated to support status). Don Byron on the other hand, makes the clarinet a great lead instrument. Not since Eric Dolphy has anyone really made the instrument shine as a lead. Byron has worked across the gamut: post-bop crossed with cerebral blaxploitation themes, klezmer voyages, avant-fusion (with Vernon Reid's Masque), and now he has released a great album of largely Lester Young infomed material, called Ivey-Divey. He has a rather solidly edited electronic press kit (in this case a .mov file) that showcases the core bandmembers --piano star Jason Moran and true veteran demi-deity Jack DeJohnette-- as well as animated interview footage.

Go take a peek.