What's New?: 10.30.2012

I'm so far behind, I had genuinely forgotten about some of these.  Let's get into it. . .

Bert Jansch — L.A. Turnaround (1974)

It's been a long time going that I've not really had any solo Bert Jansch albums in my collection.  Secondhand copies are downright unheard of around here (and yet, for some reason, John Renbourn albums popping up frequently is the status quo).  So, if I'm going to have to resort to getting the albums on reissue, I'm glad the Drag City label is handling them with such care (how else would they handle them, after all?).  This, I guess, was supposed Bert's big venture into the California soft rock scene, but it's only slightly leaning in that direction.  With instrumentals like 'Chambertin', the mildly bluegrassy 'Cluck Old Hen' (featuring the great Klaus Voorman on bass!) and the graceful 'Traveling Man', it's still more British folk than anything.  There are a few songs where there is a full band backing, but it's largely just Bert's voice and some strings of some sort.  Bert's guitar playing throughout is just as good and technically amazing as ever.  The album was produced by Mike Nesmith (of the Monkees), which might seem like the mother of all mismatches, but the sound is intimate and sparse, upping the emotional ante of tunes like 'Of Love and Lullaby' and 'Needle of Death.'  It does have a tone about it of artistic purity and victory, which despite the weight of some of the material, makes for a really special listen.  Only other Bert album I have is A Rare Conundrum and this one edges that one, ever so slightly.  Two for two, Bert.

Van Der Graaf Generator — H To He, Who Am The Only One (1970)

It's proggy, sure.  But there's something about this album that doesn't seem to really fit in with other prog of the time.  I think it has something to do with the unwavering tempos (deadly slow, they are) and the actually catchy vocal melodies.  It's actually very pleasantly reminiscent of Pink Floyd's more contemplative material.  Check out 'House With No Door' for a good idea of what's going on here.  There is a very trippy, spacey tone to this music.  The kind that seems a little cliched to bring up when discussing prog, but it actually does feel like these songs create a mini world of their own sometimes.  Definite headphone music.  For deep thinkers and slow walkers.  Robert Fripp guests on a track.  And hey, they were from Manchester!  Good stuff.

Dexys Midnight Runners — Too-Rye-Ay (1983)

Yeah, this album is unfairly judged.  Where Don't Stand Me Down was an ignored masterpiece, Too-Rye-Ay was enormously popular because. . . well, do I even need to tell you?  Because of this era-defining song and video, that's why.  But honestly, what if I told you 'Come On Eileen' was actually one of the most socially uplifting songs of the 80's?  I, too, thought it was just a song about a guy wanting to score for several years.  But it's not.  It's about taking the crappy hand that you're dealt and telling it to go to hell and taking control of your life.  In the midst of Thatcher-era Britain, Kevin Rowland told synthesizers and drum machines to fuck off, got banjos and accordions into the arrangement and wrote lyrics like this: "These people 'round here / With their beat down eyes sunk in smoke dried faces / They're resigned to what their fate is / But not us / We are far too young and clever"  It's been assigned to novelty one hit wonder status for too long.  I'm officially reclaiming it here and now as one of the greatest successes in pop music history in terms of being obtuse and artsy, while simultaneously being irresistibly catchy.  To say it's a good song seems almost like an insult.  It's a song that should be sang for years to come whenever someone overcomes any sort of odds.  I roundly assert it "Fuck yeah!" status.  What about the rest of the album?  It musically sounds a lot like some of Van Morrison's albums from the early 70's.  And I don't just say this because there's a Van Morrison cover here, but it seems like Kevin Rowland was going for a genuine and convincing melding of the traditional Irish folk melodies he grew up with and the American soul music he romanticized.  The album's leadoff song 'The Celtic Soul Brothers' is pretty damned believable in this respect, while 'Plan B' points the way towards the next album.  Like Don't Stand Me Down after it, Too-Rye-Ay has next to no electric instruments and a banjo or accordion on nearly every song.  It's just striking how unique this band was considering the pop music climate of the time and how they've simultaneously been lumped in with that crowd in retrospect (especially here in America).  They're wonderfully unique though.  More than I had ever imagined.  This CD reissue from the 90's has a wealth of live performances and b-sides as its bonus, all of which properly set the table for the masterwork, Don't Stand Me Down, that was to follow.

Stereolab — Switched On (1991)

Some of the Lab's earliest recordings are found here.  This is striking stuff, when you consider the date.  Because they've become such an institution, it's easy to overlook just how different Stereolab was when they began.  Just turn your brain off and have a listen to the album's first track.  And yeah, they do that for the whole album.  Like all early Lab stuff, it is very much mining one groove for all it's worth.  But nobody sounded like this at the time, so that's okay.  It is kind of noisy, but in that great, warm, buzzing Stereolab sort of way that feels toned down a bit.  Hard not to love, actually.

Stereolab — Aluminum Tunes [Switched On Volume 3] (1994-1997)

As the Switched On series became a regular thing, it got bigger.  This culminated in the two disc third volume.  This one is twenty five songs and two hours of peak period Groop.  The related material and b-sides from Mars Audiac, Emperor and Dots is all here and it's all pretty damn good.  And, for the most part, this is all new material.  Really the only repeat here is the Wagon Christ remix of 'Metronomic Underground', which is so good and unique from the original, it doesn't matter (and hell yeah, that's a Turtles sample in there!).  At this point, Stereolab had become a brand name, so their sound is firmly cemented — that is, loungey noise pop.  And it's almost scary how easily two hours will slip by when you play it.  It does feel a bit more electronic than their albums of the time were, so that alone makes it worth a listen.  Some of it ranks among their trippiest material, as well. 

Arthur Lyman — Taboo Vol. 2 (1960)

This initially came to my attention because David Axelrod was rumored to be the album's producer.  There are not production credits listed, but Axe was an in-house producer for the Hifi Jazz label at the time and he has talked about recording this album in several interviews.  This was, of course, a few years before Axe was an artist in his own right, so it sounds like an Arthur Lyman album, more or less.  Plenty of silly "exotica" overtones and campy flourishes in the arrangements.  Previews available here.  For a dollar at the thrift store, I'm not really mad at this one.  I can cross another record off my David Axelrod checklist. 

John Fahey — The Yellow Princess (1969)

And yeah, John Fahey is just about to consume my soul these days. This album is considered one of his all time classics and it's easy to see why.  Just have a listen to the title track here and. . . uhh, yeah.  That's pretty much what I'm all about these days.  The whole album is that good.  Couple songs have a full band backing (this and that), one song is weird Fahey and the last two songs are multi-movement introspective epics.  Really inspiring that a guy can sit there with six or twelve strings and just. . . create.  I used to have a lot of Fahey albums, but never this one.  'Tis good.

Cal Tjader — Cal Tjader-Stan Getz Sextet (1958)

A part of me does not like Stan Getz.  Just a small part.  But it is feverishly strong.  Why this is, I don't know or understand.  Something to do with his critical comments about Miles Davis.  I don't know, honestly.  Because, everything I hear from his 50's and early 60's stuff is awesome.  Already getting back into Cal Tjader, but this album has made me reevaluate my view of Stan as well.  I mean, this is pretty badass, no matter how you slice it.  The waltz 'Liz Anne' is definitely the highlight because I love the way Cal and Stan play off the time signature.  Might sound corny to say so, but I feel like I can hear them smiling.  Vince Guaraldi and the legend himself, Scott LaFaro, are in the band on this one, along with ace guitarist Eddie Duran.  You can tell everybody was smiling a lot during these sessions.  Just great stuff.

Cal Tjader — At Grace Cathedral (1976)

Funky funky Cal from the 70's. This was actually a last minute stand-in performance by Tjader for his recently deceased friend Vince Guaraldi, who was scheduled to perform. Considering that weighty circumstance, you'd think the program would be a little less lively than it is — but no, Cal knew that the time was right for something invigorating and life-affirming. Side one is just two long workouts: Cal's original 'I Showed Them' and a really groovy version of Milt Jackson's 'Bluesology.' The highlight though, appropriately, is the band's medley of Black Orpheus, which Cal dedicates to Vince. A wonderful rendition of 'Body and Soul' and we're done. This is from Cal's often neglected mid-70's Fantasy period, but the band is completely ace. The lovely, floating melodic leads from Cal on vibes and Lonnie Hewitt on Fender Rhodes electric piano make the album sound like a wash of dreamy improvisation. A really happy and celebratory album.

Jethro Tull — Stand Up (1969)

A grizzly and buzzingly melodic bluesy album from the Tull here.  The first song is the crunchy, cascading waltz 'A New Day Yesterday' which perfectly captures the reflective, unsure mood of the late 60's.  There's definitely a slant towards the folkiness that would become an integral part of their sound here.  The observational narrative 'Jeffrey Goes to Leicester Square' into the Bach meets funk rock of 'Bourée' should be clue enough that this band was kinda sorta all about blowing the walls straight down in these days.  Not everything is a complete success, but it sure as hell is listenable.  And then, of course, there's 'We Used to Know.'  Which is clearly a brilliant song.  There's another song that sounds like it, maybe you've heard it, as well?  They would do great things, shortly.  This is a nice table setter for those things.  If you like Aqualung, you'll like this one too.

Prefab Sprout — Steve McQueen (1985)

Known as Two Wheels Good in good ol' merckah (a nation of defensive bitches; let's just be honest), this album was Prefab Sprout's second. As they were pretty much demigods of British jangle at the time —the second wave following the Smiths and Aztec Camera— I have no idea how I've made it this far in my life without hearing such perfect pop gems like 'Bonny' or 'Goodbye Lucille #1.'  Really right there with the best of the British indie of the time.  Just such a timely and appropriate album for me right now.  A bit cheesy at times, but in that great nostalgic way that kind of earns points, actually.  Oh, dear: yeah, it's really good.

~Austin

What's New?: 10.9.2012

The Blue Sky Boys — Bluegrass Mountain Music (1940's/1950's)

It says "bluegrass" on the label, but it sounds more in the line of harmony country to me.  This two record, twenty song set was picked up on the cheap just because of what it is.  Which is to say: a mammoth introductory document of a long-forgotten country music combo.  And first things first here: jeez, these songs are all kinds of inappropriate!  Many tales of murder, debauchery and just plain old not gettin' along are recounted here, many times over.  'Down on the Banks of the Ohio' is about as sociopath as they come.  And that's a recurring theme here: pleasant music until you actually pay attention to the words, which is when you just kind of put your head in your hands and marvel at the dynamics at play.  While, on the other hand, there's a balladry and sense of sheer beauty at play here that isn't completely happy, but seem to be aware of much past the material's inception.  All in all, it doesn't seem to fully compute.  And yet, it works.  Really lovely, rootsy, folky stuff.

Leo Kottke — Ice Water (1974)

This album begins with, and I'm completely honest here, one of the greatest ever side one/track one's of all time.  'Morning is the Long Way Home' is the sort of uber-introspective, faux-Bob Dylan number that Leo's vocal music seemed to propose all along.  He achieved it here.  Whoo boy, did he ever.  It combines Leo's unmatched fretting skills head-on with his whimsically world-weary point of view and the results are just pure magic.  I'm not even kidding when I say it has, this quickly, become one of my favorite songs ever.  The rest of the album is a grab bag of mid-70's guitar virtuoso Leo and mid-70's folk-rocker Leo.  The instrumentals are among his best, the vocal numbers (outside of the first track) are mid-grade.  The ethereal, album closing 'A Child Should be a Fish' is not only a few years ahead of its time in the long run (though right on par with John Martyn's indulgences of the time), it points directly towards his very next move.

Leo Kottke — Dreams and All that Stuff (1974)

An all instrumental album, for the first time in a few years. It's just an odd-sounding piece of work. Have a gander at the cover art. And yeah, it sounds kind of like that. Leo sits alone with just his guitar for the first time in a long time and plenty o'newstuffs hits his cerebral cortex. The songs have multi-movements, float in and out of one another and just generally coexist. Just have a listen to 'When Shrimps Learn to Whistle' to get an idea of what I mean. I too, scoffed at the synths and studio polishings at first. But, when that change up hits, that's just when it becomes clear that he's kind of joking. But, also not. It's such a blurry album of brilliance, it's hard to see where the jokes stop and and the seriousness begins. Is there even a distinction with Leo? Who cares? This album seems to be forgotten. Shame, that.

Kraftwerk — Radio-Activity (1975)

One of the most influential albums of all time, plain and simple. Can you believe that the title track from this album predated the punks?  Not to mention, without its existence, one of my favorite albums of all time wouldn't have come to fruition.  The idea that the word "radioactivity" could be reclaimed as a manifesto for people wanting to use music as form of rebellion against the system that had made "radioactivity" something of notoriety in the first place — well that, my dear friends, is why I like music.  It's conceptual as hell, all the songs bleed into one another, Depeche Mode totally ripped it off too and a lot of its original lyrics were left sung in German.  Through it all, there is something screamingly human about this music.  So, there.  Kraftwerk's best album? 

Cal Tjader — Breeze From the East (1963)

The other of Tjader's "eastern" themed albums in the 60's.  It's just as good as the other one, actually.  A bit funkier overall.  The guitar-accented version of 'Leyte' here is nice, as is the gorgeously floating 'Fuji.'  There's a kind of weird version of 'Poinciana' at the end, too.  Not much else to say, except that it's highly recommended for Tjader fans.  Really have a hard time finding much to dislike about this music.

Bob Dylan — Nashville Skyline (1969)

I know it's cool to sing the praises of this album beyond all reasoning, being that Johnny Cash is involved.  And yet, I kinda sorta feel like he ruined 'Girl From the North Country.'  It's still a good song, but Bob's initial version just blows it out of water with such ease, in every aspect.  The rest of the album finds Bob struggling to be himself again.  He went off to Europe, got his head all out of whack and it took him returning to his country roots to get back to being great again.  This was his first step.  'I Threw it all Away' has shades of the Bob that was forthcoming and it's all self-reflecting greatness.  I should say that I've always hated 'Lay Lady Lay' even though it's probably the most well-known tune on this album.  Just don't dig it, whatsoever.  Decent transitional album, though

Fiona Apple — The Idler Wheel. . . (2012)

Is there such a thing as prog-pop?  Has Fiona invented it?  Because, jeez.  What an impenetrable mess this album is.  Just like her past greats.  This one, though, has kept me at bay for some months now.  I mean, I think I get it.  But, just when I think I do, something else will hit me and throw everything back to step one.  Everything about this album is just the work of an absolute master.  The way she polyrhythmically phrases her vocals, the musical twists and turns, the big ideas being passed off as supposed toss-offs of nonsense pop songs — it's all too much.  Does it sound like pure singer songwriter awesomeness?  Yes, absolutely, of course, why wouldn't it?  How silly of you to ask!  But, when you dig into that deeper level, is there a whole 'nother level of something going on here?  Uncomfortably, yeah.  Seriously, how is she still able to sound like her first album?  But way better?  Naivety times infinity.  Is it real?  Is it fake?  Who knows?  For all of the album's memorable lines and singable tunes —exhibit A: "Every single night's alright!", exhibit B: "You you you you", exhibit C: "How can I ask anyone to love me when all I do is beg to be left alone?", exhibit D: "There's nothing wrong when a song ends in a minor key", exhibit E: "If I'm butter, if I'm butter. . .!!!!"— I feel absolutely lost when it's over.  I kind of feel like Fry in that episode of Futurama.  I wake up, all emotionally sticky and confused.  Did I miss something good?  Talk to me about this album again in about five years and I'll have some more tangible thoughts for you.  In the meantime, is she the contemporary Joni Mitchell?  We says yes.

Dexys Midnight Runners — Don't Stand Me Down (1985)

That's a fiver there, buddy. And this is, like, a high five, if such a thing exists.  I can't even say how much I've struggled with this band.  By all accounts, I should have loved them years ago.  And yet, here I am, getting introduced to them through their "difficult" third album and absolutely not understanding why it wasn't an across the board smash to the point of getting tears while listening to it now.  Kevin Rowland was so obsessed with Northern Soul to the point that he felt like the British had come to appreciate those records more than any American ever had. So, in a way, he felt like he should make a proper British Northern Soul album for British people who appreciated Northern Soul records. And, to say that he exceeded would be an understatement. The second half of 'This is What She's Like' is just pure magic and a rare instance of a band leader directing his band simply for the sake of the audience's delight.  There are no synthesizers on this album, no drum machines and next to no electric instruments (some electric bass and amplified guitars here and there and, a good ol'Hammond B-3 — what Northern Soul record would be complete without it, after all?).  But actually, nothing to indicate that this album was made in 1984.  And guess what?  People hated it.  Fuck these whiteboys wanting to sound black.  Sad.  What I hear now is a musician at the top of his game, flailing and wailing out of creative control to the point that he created a piece of music so outside of its time that it was destined to flop.  Channeling Otis Redding as much as Ian Curtis in the resonance of his delivery and his words, Kevin Rowland created one of the best albums that's actually pretty much unheard in the past fifty or so years.  I hate to fuel the seeming cash grab that surrounds second hand copies of this now very out of print album (I paid $20 for this semi-good condition used vinyl copy), but it does deserve to be heard.  I just can't get over how genuine it all sounds.  I love it now.  Can't imagine how good it will sound in five years' time.

Kevin Rowland — The Wanderer (1988)

And yeah, Kevin then tried to go completely contemporary.  Drum machines, synths, the whole deal.  I guess this is another one where it would be best to get back to me in a year or seven.  Because, right now, this sounds like he's ripping off the Style Council when they were the ones that ripped him off —and crapped it up a few notches— in the first place (and don't get me wrong, I love tSC, but sheesh).  Nothing on this album lives up to the idiosyncratic potential of Don't Stand Me Down.  Very disappointing right now.

Big Country — Steeltown / Where the Rose is Sown 12" (1984)

You know, I've known their first album for a few years now —a successful bargain bin chance taken— and it's slowly become one of those great albums that everybody has seen and knows about but that has sadly not endured past its initial popularity.  So, when they released another album that was basically a redux of the first one the very next year, it left a bitter taste in a lot people's mouths and, in the long run, folks just plain old lost interest.  Here's a secret though: Steeltown is actually the better album of the band's initial run.  Seriously, the power, the continuity and the seamlessness of the whole thing are just better than on the Crossing.  It's still Big Country doing big echoey riffs, big hooks and seriously impassioned vocals.  But it's just a lot better on this album.  There is a bit more of a heavy-heartedness to the material here, so even the big triumphant single 'Where the Rose is Sown' has that singular melancholy vibe to it.  For all the fist-pumping and comforting "everyman"-edness at play here, this is not exactly tons of fun as far as the subject matter is concerned.  Just have a listener to the album closer 'Just a Shadow' for a moment of unsure brilliance.  Also scooped the 12" single for 'Where the Rose is Sown' (featuring the ace extended mix in full 45rpm beauty).  Couple of b-sides to be found, and all's well.  Seriously good stuff; right there with what the Chameleons, u2 and the Sound were doing at around the same time.

Lou Reed — Rock 'n' Roll Animal (1974)

Ahahahahaha, this album actually sucks. The Velvet Underground was not a glam band, Lou. So guess what happens when you try to make that material into glam songs? They're pretty boring and downright suck! Jeez. All the rockist views about this being good. I've read those for years. Six bucks, wasted. Just awful. The antithesis of what many of these songs initially stood for. Man, fuck this album.

~Austin

What's New?: 8.14.2012

Falling behind again. . .

Andrew Bird — Anonanimal / See the Enemy single (2009)

'Anonanimal' on Noble Beast proper, has long been one of my favorite sleeper Andrew Bird songs.  It's buried way too deep in the album's running order for anyone, other than the devoted, to really see it's brilliance.  So, gathering up the stray Andrew Bird stuff at my availability, I jumped on this 45 quickly.  And. . . it's okay.  The re-recording of the a-side doesn't differ much from the album version and 'See the Enemy' is kind of like a dub version of the song.  After this year's 'Crown Salesman / So Much Wine' single was such a nice addition to his current repertoire, my hopes were higher.  Still, good song and good mixtape fodder.

William Ackerman — Past Light (1983)

Will settles into a more stock, stereotypical Windham Hill sound on this album (his fifth overall).  Is it cheesy?  Yeah, a little bit.  There's no swingin', post-bluegrass pickin' to be found and there's only one song where Will is playing unaccompanied.  The opener 'Visiting' is pretty darn cheesy, if you ask me.  But the very next tune 'Garden' is a collaborative effort between Will and the Kronos Quartet and it's actually up there with Will's best tunes.  The one solo tune 'Pacific II' is a sparse number and also definitely a highlight.  But then, immediately following, you get 'Synopsis,' which features Mark Isham playing one of the worst synthesizer tones I've ever heard.  So, yeah.  It's up and down.  Side two is mostly a wash, drowning in cheese, but the trio performance of 'Threes' with Michael Manring and Michael Hedges is worthwhile (as is the other Michael Hedges appearance on the brief closer 'Night Slip').  The good stuff is reminiscent of Will's best past work.  The rest is pretty boring. 

William Ackerman — Conferring With the Moon (1986)

No more or less "stock" in its overall sound, but there's a slight change for the more sparse here that I really dig.  Thematically, it reminds me a lot of the Cocteau's Victorialand (coincidentally released the same year) in that it's polishing and stripping back of the essence of Will's main idea with his music.  It's calm and mostly just meditates on themes, but there's something to the tunes this time out that tells me that there was something important happening behind the music that inspired its creation.  An astute awareness of sparseness and a grasp on the importance of space is fully realized here.  A listen to Will's solo performance of the title track (which closes out the album) and I'm pretty much sold (a more arranged quartet version opens the album).  'Improv 2' (sparse twelve string loveliness) and 'Singing Crocodile' (awesomely reminiscent of Archer Prewitt's 'The Bay') are definitely in the top tier of Will's compositions.  'Lago de Montañas (Mountain Lake)' finds Will playing the charango like the boss that he is, while 'The Last Day at the Beach' is a study in odd, well thought-out chord progressions.  He should have been doing duets with Vini Reilly at this point.  Probably his calmest album, but also easily his strongest outside of his first three. 

William Ackerman — Imaginary Roads (1988)

And while Will's last album of the 80's isn't amazing, it's got a very nice "soundtracky" quality that, despite some cheesy flourishes in the production, makes for a pretty decent album.  I do kind of get the feeling that Will is playing to his audience here, but the actual themes of the tunes are darn nice.  'A Region of Clouds' (one of two solo pieces) is so reminiscent of the Durutti Column, I really don't have any other choice but to love it.  There are some intrusive synth moments, but for the most part, this is just a really nice, warm album where I don't feel like the classification of "background music" is a bad thing at all.  Closer listens may reveal the flaws, but there's only a few.  Will's liner note that begins with the sentence "I drink beer." is completely hilarious and worthwhile, as well.

Joe Pass — Virtuoso #2 (1976)

A solo jazz guitar album.  I was mainly on the hunt for this one because album opener 'Giant Steps' has been written into the sample bible by this point.  The whole rendition of the tune is good, but that ten or so seconds of looped up goodness is just pure bliss.  The rest of the album definitely lives up to its namesake, as Joe gets more out of those six strings than seems imaginable.  Considering he plays the head, comps along for himself and takes solos, all without overdubs, it's pretty technically impressive stuff.  His tone is warm and lovely throughout and the selection of tunes is pure class.  He does go off fairly often, making this more of a dedicated music nerd piece overall.  Though not without its across the board excellent moments, it will take a concerted effort to get the most out of it.

Keith Jarrett — Solo Concerts (1973)

This beautiful three record box set on the ECM label is a testament to Keith Jarrett's unwavering creativity.  While he may be too intellectual sometimes, the simple idea of him sitting down to just play what he's feeling at that particular moment, in front of a crowd of onlookers, was completely radical and brave at the time.  It's hard to think that Keith had so many ideas just flowing out his brain, but here it all is.  He will create these themes and just build on them, throwing in little flourishes and nuances.  I mean, really, there's six sides of vinyl here to be explored.  Hard to sum it up quickly here, but I'll just say that he convincingly plays pretty much every established piano style.  Music to get lost in.  There's over two hours of it here, after all.  And I've seen him in person myself.  He can hold a packed hall completely captive just on the anticipation of what he will play next.

Cal Tjader — Soul Sauce (1964)

More Tjader to re-add to my library.  Cal's getting deep into a rhythmic Latin vibe here.  The title track nearly invents salsa music before your very ears, while the follow up tune is an irreproachably strong rendition of 'Afro Blue.'  So, yeah.  As usual, Cal's out to prove he can play just as authentically as anybody.  The ballads kick butt and take names here.  'Somewhere in the Night' (spotify link) and 'Leyte' (also spotify; also a sample favorite) are so good, it'll completely blow your mind how I could have ever given this album up in the first place.  Through and through, Tjader in the 60's was just about as consistent as they come.  Is this his best one?  Well, I'll just have to reacquire the rest of them to properly decide.  But it's in the running, that's for sure. 

~Austin

What's New?: 2.25.2012 Part One

Let the birthday record bonanza continue to continue!  Yes, more finds from last week's haul at Grassroots' 25 cent vinyl sale.

Alice Coltrane — Eternity (1976)

I think Alice Coltrane's discography is actually pretty underrated.  She's abhorred by folks who blame her for turning John's later albums into a "mess" (you will acknowledge the quotes there, please).  But, she's also celebrated by the folks who were able to look past her connection, the faux "mysticism" and judge her own music as its own entity.  I am one of the latter.  And, like most of us, I'm continually impressed by her impeccable sense of melody amidst seeming chaos.  This album (her last for a major label for nearly thirty years) showcases her more accessible side.  But it is a bit uneven, as this is a case of ambition exceeding execution (how can any album with a rendition of Stravinsky and an eleven minute salsa workout really be cohesive, honestly?).  It's all over the place, as it finds Alice doing the extended small combo funk workouts  ('Los Caballos'), fully orchestrated pieces ('Spiritual Eternity' and a selection from 'Rites of Spring') or her trademark introspective-tinged quasi-religious chant jams (the downright incredible 'Om Supreme').  But still, I really love when she just plays harp unaccompanied on 'Wisdom Eye.'  Just has that really warm feeling to it.  Overall, yeah, she has better albums, but I'm definitely happy to finally have this one in my collection.  And, mixed bag or no, I highly recommend it to Alice fans.

America — View From the Ground (1982)

Yeah, this one isn't too good.  It mostly gets the score it does because of the song 'Never Be Lonely.'  That's a darn fine little jangly, vintage America number.  The rest of the album, though.  Yikes.  Otherwise, you're treated to the purely cheesy "delights" like the hit single 'You Can Do Magic.'  Their best work was behind them at this point.  Oh, dear.


Cal Tjader — Plays the Contemporary Music of Mexico and Brazil (1962)

Reacquisition.  I had this one on CD years ago (along with most of the Tjader catalogue), but ditched it in favor of who knows what.  Slowly getting all this Tjader stuff back, as I find it.  This one was secretly one of my favorites.  It's a little early to be among his sample and breakbeat favorites, but it's just outside of his Fantasy years, so there's a bit of that "looking out and beyond"-edness at play that makes for a really wonderful affair that isn't quite technical enough to be considered among the jazz elite of the time, but is also too sophisticated to be assigned into the easy listening bin, either.  There's slightly Latin overtones to the music (like with most of Cal's 60's output) and a really tuneful aspect going on that is just downright likable.  Have a listen to the multi-movement closer 'Chôro e Batuque' (featuring the great Laurindo Almeida on guitar) and dig it.


Tom Rush — Wrong End of the Rainbow (1970)

Another good one from Tom's Columbia years.  The title track is definitely a nice one, featuring one of the most underrated breaks and redemptive key changes I can recall.  'Merrimack County' showcases the great melding of Tom's folky past with the more MOR stance of this era.  'Riding on a Railroad' is an updated train song that possesses a great building quality that the best songs from this string of Tom's albums have.  Overproduced, maybe, but it always works in the best interest of the songs.  'Starlight' is the highlight here, as it exemplifies how Tom was able to achieve this incredible soulfulness during these years.  Really strong stuff and to have it end with the gospel-tinged 'Gnostic Serenade' is just completely appropriate.  More excellent work from a guy that just seemed unable to fail at this point.

More coming.

~Austin

What's New?: 2.21.2012

Let the birthday record bonanza begin!  I should say that a good chunk of this haul was courtesy of the 25¢ record sale over at Grassroots.  Yes, they have gems of this calibre all the time.

Leo Kottke — Mudlark (1971)

Wow, why did I skip the Leo Kottke for so long, again?  It's like this wonderful conglomeration of John Fahey-inspired acoustic instrumental music meets the more whimsical aspects of British folk rock.  When that first track, 'Cripple Creek' kicks in with the drums, it's an eyebrow-raising moment.  The tunefulness, the speed of his playing. . . just, wow.  The extra folky rendition of 'Eight Miles High' as a follow up just seals the deal: badassery of the highest order.  I've read a lot of criticisms of Leo's vocals, but I honestly don't mind Leo the singer (and I should say that, after digesting this initial batch of introductory albums, I do prefer his guitar playing to his singing).  I don't quite know what to consider Leo after getting into his music.  Is he folk?  Is he rock?  Is he jazz?  I have no idea.  'Hear the Wind Howl' is the highlight off of this album.  

Leo Kottke — Greenhouse (1972)

Wow, 'Tiny Island' is an excellent song, isn't it?  Wow.  That thing is just an introspective masterpiece, isn't it?  I have to be honest: I never anticipated such an emotionally weighty song from a Leo Kottke album.  Seriously, I don't know how he does it.  The album starts off with the jumpy solo guitar instrumental 'Bean Time' and then launches into 'Tiny Island' like nothing special at all.  The rest of the album contains pretty much a repeat of the formula for what made Mudlark so great: solo instrumental tune here, quirky vocal number there, excellent execution all around.

Leo Kottke — My Feet Are Smiling (1973)

A live recording.  And it's clear right up front that Leo is an earnest dude.  After a great little slide intro, he stops suddenly and blurts out, "Boy, I blew that!" and then launches into 'Hear the Wind Howl' amidst audience laughter.  The slower, more meditative pieces 'Easter' and 'The Fisherman' are uniformly excellent and, as a live album is supposed to do, it paints the picture of the artist as the people's champ, unafraid to appear venerable.  Really hard to not get on board with that.

Cal Tjader — San Francisco Moods (1958)

Pure class from Cal's Fantasy years.  When he's not playing piano (a first for Cal on this album; and he's actually a rather decent player), the harmony is filled out by Eddie Duran on guitar.  Always a sucker for ballads and headier material, I prefer the more thought provoking numbers like 'Coit Tower' and the multi-movement seven minute album closer 'Grant Avenue Suite.'  Rare to hear an entire album these days inspired by a specific locale (needless to say, one that the listener can easily acquaint themselves with).  And, furthermore, to hear that locale rendered such a great (and beautiful) audio tribute, even though it's seriously in contrast with my own impression of the place, is a really impressive feat.  I guess it helps to adjust your mind to 1950's San Francisco in order to appreciate the album (though, that's not really necessary, as the music is self-evidently good).  

Bert Jansch — A Rare Conundrum (1977)

I've delved plenty into the John Renbourn discography over the years, mainly out of convenience, and I've always said that I would scoop up a Bert album with Superman quickness if I ever saw one.  That day finally came and I made good on my promise to myself.  To be up front about the whole thing: I expected nothing more and nothing from a Bert Jansch album than what I got here.  'The Curragh of Kildare' sums things up just about as good as anything could.  A number than runs through many acoustic shadings and paints the picture of our storyteller as a traditionalist who has been preserved for about the previous fifty or sixty years.  Just love that sound.  Instrumentals or full-on folk rock tunes; doesn't matter.  Everything is excellent.  The whole thing is tuneful as hell and when it hit the introspective monster 'Looking for a Home' I knew I had hit paydirt.  Just, man. . .  everything I hoped for from a Bert album.

Lindisfarne — Back and Fourth (1978)

I have a couple other Lindisfarne albums from the early 70's and I like them just fine.  They were actually considered pretty new and hip at one point from what I understand.  I guess, from reading up on them,  this was their "comeback" album, as the group had been dormant for a few years previous.  To me, it sounds quite a bit removed their initial folk pop and more in tune with the soft rock scene of the time.  It's not especially good nor bad, but it is nicely presented — and maybe that was the point.  'King's Cross Blues' is the most reminiscent of their earlier albums, but I actually don't mind the softer rock direction that this album takes on.  I mean, it's strummy and kind of faceless, but it's certainly not gimmicky or poorly played.  Yeah, the earlier albums were better, but this is hardly an album to be skipped if you liked those records.

Poco — DeLIVErin' (1970)

"Let's here it for the good guys!" is the introduction of the band on this live album.  I've had the first few Poco albums for some time now, but I've gone back to them recently because of current interests.  As much fun as this album makes them sound, it's essentially just a live album (and, while you will probably enjoy it eventually, you're much better served by the studio albums).  That being said, the rendition of 'Kind Woman' is probably closer to what Richie Furay had initially intended than what Buffalo Springfield did with it (even though their initial version is good too).  Overall, I can't say this isn't an essential album for Richie Furay fans — the medley at the end of side one is a crowd-pleaser of the highest order and worth it on its own.

The Pentangle — Open the Door (1985)

I saw this in the rack and didn't recognize the cover, so I figured it must be a compilation.  Looking at the back, I didn't recognize a single song title, so I investigated the liner notes.  Yes, it's a reunion album, of sorts (everyone except John Renbourn is on board — his replacement is the more than competent Mike Piggott).  When I saw this, I was skeptical and just figured it would be a collection completer of an album.  When it kicks off with 'Open the Door' I thought it must be a fluke.  By the time it hit 'Child of the Winter', I knew I had been wrong all along.  That has quickly, and fairly easily, become in my top five songs the band ever did.  They follow it with appropriately Durutti Column-esque instrumental 'The Dolphin' and I'm sold.  Even though John's not around, the whole album is done in the same vein as the band's classic run in the late 60's and early 70's.  Really had no idea a seemingly second tier album by these guys could be just as good as anything from their prime.

Tom Rush — The Best of Tom Rush (early 70's)

This should be titled "The Best of the Columbia Years" because it ignores Tom Rush's output up until 1970.  No complaints otherwise, though, as this is a fine introduction to his now completely (and unjustly) forgotten 70's work.  He is not very folk on these recordings.  Instead, his output from this era kind of uses the middle period Bob Dylan albums as a jumping off point for a sort of folk-informed soft rock.  At its best, it reaches these absolutely sublime mellow moments that sound pretty darn good to me these days.  I already had an album of his prior to this find, but this collection really laid it out there just how much I was missing.

Tom Rush — Tom Rush (1965)

And, like I said, that collection doesn't paint the whole picture.  This is a straight acoustic folk album, with a serious blues overtone.  There's no original tunes here, but the arrangements on tunes like 'Long John', 'The Cuckoo' and 'I'd Like to Know' are informative and fresh at the same time.  However, the winner here is eight minute epic rendition of Bukka White's 'Panama Limited.'  The tune is enjoyable as hell anyway, but Tom's guitar playing is absolutely stellar through the whole thing.  This just seems like music from another world to me right now.  Completely enthralling music.

~Austin