What's New?: 10.1.2011

Cat Stevens — Foreigner (1973)

Filling up holes in the old Cat Stevens collection. Like all of his previous albums, this one's good, but not quite as good as the one that came before it. Still love the big budget folk rock production and his undeniably passionate performances throughout. The whole of side one is taken up by the now infamous 'Foreigner Suite' which features four regular old Cat Stevens songs (good ones, too) that are segued by doodly little instrumental half-songs. I love that sort of unnecessarily ambitious crap. The final song has the (now hilarious) little Joe Satriani/Coldplay bit — not an album highlight, but worth a mention for comedy's sake. Side two of the album just carries along in the same manner but it just doesn't sound as interesting without the willfully artsy aspect that side one has. The album closing song '100 I Dream' has got to be one of the single most uplifting songs ever. Take one look at some random lyrics: "Pick up the pieces you see before you, don't let your weaknesses destroy you." A sparse folk rock backing that mirrors his earlier triumphs and a multi-tracked harmony vocal and the deal is sealed. Good stuff.

Dave Brubeck — We're All Together Again for the First Time (1972)

The title is presumably a reference to Dave, Paul Desmond and Gerry Mulligan. It is absolutely top tier post-bop from a time when the stuff was frowned upon and in short supply. I don't know what it is, but Paul Desmond just sounds on fire throughout. Gerry Mulligan's composition 'Unfinished Woman' is a soul jazz rave-up — gosh dang, it's good. The Desmond feature on 'Koto Song' is hauntingly beautiful. Rhythm section of Jack Six on bass and Alan Dawson on drums is completely sympathetic to the dynamite frontline they're backing. There's even a super long rendition of 'Take Five' and Dave finishes the live set (recorded at two different dates in late 1972) with a solo reading of 'Sweet Georgia Brown' — completely appropriate, seeing as how it's very obvious that everyone involved was having a blast. Solid stuff. I need to explore Brubeck properly.

Cal Tjader — Several Shades of Jade (1963)

Really sweet find at a thrift store on this one. I did have this album, years back, on this two-fer CD. Overall, it looks a lot more gimmicky from the outside than it actually is. Because, for the most part, it's just Cal Tjader's group playing what they played, but with augmentation from a tastefully Lalo Schifrin-arranged orchestra. I actually didn't remember much of this album from previously, and that's surprising. Because it's actually really worthwhile. I mean, something like 'Song of the Yellow River' is just about as ahead of its time as something might get. Overall, this is probably one of the Cal Tjader albums most folks might guess is pure cheese — but after properly reassessing, I'd say it's among his best.

Prince — Prince (1979)

Sure, not his most enduring material, but there's a charm to the two early Prince albums. It's a brand of semi-disco R&B/funk that just doesn't really sound like anybody else. Because, while Lakeside and Slave were conceiving songs entirely in the studio, Prince was still writing in his bedroom. Hence, you get introspective seven minute things like 'I Wanna Be Your Lover.' It doesn't have the standouts that his first album had, but it does hang together a little better overall as an album. It has a very dated late-70's vibe to it that I must confess I like. A time when recording studios were a church of sorts and even a lesser Prince work like this one was still treated like a goldmine. Dah well, the record's good, but far from his best.

The Band — Music from Big Pink (1968)

The (other) album that the Basement Tapes begat. There's just something about this album that you feel. I can't really articulate it — but this is powerful music. I think it was George Starostin that said (or at least, he was the first person who proposed the idea as I knew it) that nobody really knows what these guys are talking about, but they are talking about some serious shit. And that comes through in this music. It's an epic collision of old meets new. Old timey ideals and ethics meet a newly discovered rocker interest in folk music and you get music that proposes something completely timeless — rare for rock music. I know it's the hit and the song that everybody knows, but I can still remember the first time I heard 'The Weight.' It is a godlike moment in music and one of my favorite songs of all time. Levon Helm's vocal performance is just about as good as it gets in my book. With my interest in Fleet Foxes reaching its most fervent phase, it's nice to go back and hear the roots. Jesus, this album is good. Makes me feel warmer just thinking about it.

The Zincs — Moth and Marriage (2001)

The Zincs' debut album is a sparser presentation of what they would become. For the most part, it's a dual jangly strummy guitar arrangement of esoteric pop songs. This one is a bit more acoustic-based than the albums that would follow, but despite the sparse presentation, the songs are just as good. There really aren't any standouts —besides Jim Elkington's bizarre lyrics— and that plays to the album's advantage, because it demands a full listen every single time. I guess this ultimately plays up Elkington's slant towards British folk rock because it does have the feeling about it that it's about the greater statement than its individual parts. Hard for a guy like me to dislike such willfully tuneful and strummy music.

Cocteau Twins — Four-Calendar Café (1993)

It sounds absolutely fine now, but I can only imagine how disappointing this must have been coming after Heaven or Las Vegas. In retrospect, it can be looked at as a very cliched stock Cocteaus sound. That sounds great these days because the band has been defunct for so long, but at the time, it must have bruised a few longtime fans' hearts. Still, Cocteaus doing "Cocteaus" is better than nothing. This album is notoriously subdued and lowkey in its production, but that actually plays to the success of mellower songs like 'Oil of Angels', 'My Truth' and the especially vintage-sounding number 'Essence.' Overall, not their best, but still a darn fine album.

Cocteau Twins — Head Over Heels/Sunburst and Snowblind (1983)

And straight back into the classics and my Cocteaus collection is complete. You can't fault albums like this. Sure, the band did better songs, but does this not hang together like a total masterpiece? 'Sugar Hiccup' is one of Robin Guthrie's most inspired moments, while 'Musette and Drums' creates the sort of building quality that most bands can only dream of. Yeesh, I mean, sure they were totally onto something new here —and would arguably repeat themselves for the rest of the 80's— but who cares when they were doing it this well? When you're in the zone, you want to stay there. And this is where theirs started.

Mojave 3 — Spoon & Rafter (2003)

After digesting —and really liking— Ask Me Tomorrow, I decided one was not enough, so I found this album used. I purposely went for this one because the first song is 'Bluebird of Happiness'. It's the only Mojave 3 song I've heard that's as good as —or, indeed, better than— Slowdive. A nine minute epic that channels Neil Young via-shoegaze, it's one of Neil Halstead's best songs ever. I just wish all of Mojave 3 was as good. The rest of the album does follow suit, in a matter of speaking. There are some twangy little ditties that toe the line between sleepy country rock and dreamy folk, but none of them have that insanely realized balance of emotion, intensity and restraint that that first track has (as the only sane person in the room asks, "What does?"). It's a lovely little album after the initial shock up front. But, I have to admit, without that first track, I would have scored the album significantly lower.

~Austin

What's New?: 9.23.2011

Really unassuming batch of greatness this go 'round. . .



Cocteau Twins — Blue Bell Knoll (1988)

Nothing special at all for the Cocteaus, but solid as hell regardless. By this point, the Cocteaus had become very influential, so I can understand the backlash of them doing an album that sounds exactly like them three years previous. And yet, nobody else managed to do it as well. Just listen to the dreamy fantastigasm™ on songs like 'Cico Buff' (this would have been a standout on any of their previous albums, too). The title track is dark and dreamy, while the last two tracks ('A Kissed Out Red Floatboat' and 'Ella Megalast Burls Forever') point the way towards Heaven or Las Vegas. I understand how somebody could overlook this album, but I don't understand how you could not count it among the band's peak material after hearing it. I think I might also like it so much simply because of the unfamiliarity of the material, as most of this album has not been compiled elsewhere. Top stuff from a band in top form.

Cocteau Twins — Victorialand (1986)

Very dreamy, even for this band. Most of the songs are awash with acoustic guitars, tons of delay (seemingly more than usual) and minimal percussion. The very first track ('Lazy Calm' — a perfect title) wins me over instantly. It's arguably the most Cocteau-ish song the band ever did. It's very calm, even for them and sits right next to the Moon and the Melodies very nicely. I actually really like that the band is mostly digging into calmer, less percussive territory here. I hesitate to call it the closest thing to a straight acoustic album that they ever did, but there you have it. It lends itself much better to Durutti Column comparisons than it does My Bloody Valentine. If nothing else, the relative sparseness of the material highlights Robin Guthrie more than usual and he's definitely playing in a 'more bang for your buck' mode here as he just hits these chord patterns over and over and just lets them float. Like a mofo'ing boss, I'd say. Play this for anyone who thinks that the Cocteaus didn't have diversity on their side. And I will say this again: 'Lazy Calm' is just absolute magic. One of their best songs, I reckon.

Brian Eno — Another Green World (1975)

'Tis a replacement copy. Let it be known, here and now, that I did give a (very) positive review to something that Phil Collins was involved with. Although I would imagine that ol'Phil had very little to do with the songcraft on these here selections and was only brought in to lend his drumming to the party, there you have it. For anyone wanting to know why Brian Eno is so revered, don't even play them this entire album —because it is most definitely a slow burning grower of an experience— just play them the song 'Sombre Reptiles.' That is, in essence, what Brian Eno has contributed to modern music. Just a few simple chords. But arranged in a loping, thoughtful way that makes two minutes and some change seem like the greatest piece of ambient music you've ever heard. Melodically lyrical and completely thoughtful, it is Eno's masterpiece. I could listen to it on repeat for hours. The rest of the album is darn fine, as well. Not quite as willfully weird as Taking Tiger Mountain —it's a bit calmer overall, with the entirety of side two having no drums whatsoever— it's still got that artsy quality to it, but mixed with Eno's ambient philosophies, making it a completely appealing, and convincing, mix of ambient soundscapes and pop sensibilities. He released better material as a collaborative contributor to other things after this, but he never released anything better under his own name. Defying time and trends, it is purely magnificent; and absolutely a classic album.

The Zincs — Black Pompadour (2007)

Saw these guys open for the Sea and Cake in San Francisco on the Everybody tour. At the time, I knew little of what to make if their esoteric jangle sound, but I actually really liked their set and thought they deserved to be playing higher on the bill. Definitely should have played after the Robbers on High Street — who were actually terrible, honestly, as their between song banter actually included a narrative from the singer about a waitress who "hilariously" misheard the band name as "Robbers on Ice Cream' — how hilariously pretentious to actually recollect before an audience of onlookers, you fake Macy Gray idiot (seriously, the skinny fucker sounded like Macy Gray. God, I wanted to punch him). Much in contrast to the Zincs' between song banter (the one comment I remember, besides song title introductions from Jim Elkington, was, "We drove down from Portland yesterday — that's really far! I loved it though!" — and then launched into a tune from Dimmer). I remember wanting to buy the band's albums right then and there (I was working on a budget at the merch stand), but, over the years, I've admittedly just forgotten. I have fond memories of the band playing 'The Mogul's Wives' and being pretty darned impressed as far as seeing a bunch of guys I had never heard of before recreating these wonderful Television-style dual jangle interplay guitars while Jim did this funny little dance while he was playing. The band honestly didn't seem to care that there was maybe fifty people paying attention. This album kicks butt. It's like the more jangly Sea and Cake material (appropriate, as it was recorded by John McEntire at his own SOMA studio; and helped out on various instruments), but with a bit of weary midwestern twang and seriously weird lyrics. Think Wilco, but more fun. It all makes very little sense when you consider that Jim Elkington is British and had only been living in America for a few years at this point. Really unique music and just a shame that they didn't get some notoriety off this material (in one of the bitchiest of bitch moves they've ever done —and probably a contributing factor as to why the album didn't get more notice— Pitchfork gave the album a mediocre score amidst one of the most worthless reviews I've ever read — case in point of the website trying to outcool their subject matter by pointlessly one-upping it). Freakin' lovely music, man. Smart — but not smarty pants. And just awesome how it straddles 'pop' and 'art' so seamlessly.

The Zincs — Dimmer. (2005)

One of the most complete jangle albums of the last decade, honestly. I'm sorry I waited so long. I distinctly remember three songs that the Zincs played when they opened for Sea and Cake off this album: 'Moment is Now!' (because they opened with it), 'Passengers' (because Jim Elkington played harmonica) and 'Beautiful Lawyers' (because it was so reminiscent of the Sea and Cake's jangly perfection). Things build and build in a very pleasantly jangly tone for the bulk of the album until they hit the ballad 'Sunday Night' and it just feels like one of those Neil Young-esque, late night, moment of clarity occurrences that pop up every so often with good music scholars. Overall, I have listened to this album several times over the past few days and I have to say that the band, as played to me on that spring night several years ago, is just as captivating on record as I remember they were in person. Again: I'm sorry I waited so long. I've really missed out.

Mojave 3 — Ask Me Tomorrow (1996)

I received Puzzles Like You as a promo when I worked at Tower Records and I remember being really excited to be properly introduced what is essentially Slowdive v.2. I hated it. For years ever since, I've written off the band as "shitty Slowdive with twang." A friend recently introduced me to a version of 'Bluebird of Happiness' that made me re-think things. I know I've heard this album in passing before, but I just can't say where. And sure, going in after Pygmalion (and its subsequent deluxe edition), it's just not as good. But, leave all that baggage at the door and this is a darn fine little whispery dreamy folk rock album. Reminds me a lot of Neil Young's Harvest Moon, in fact (add some reverb and you're there). Think Mazzy Star, but less "trippy man" (not that being "trippy man" isn't good). Hearing it from where I am now, 'Love Songs on the Radio' is a downright classic in my book. The boozy twang of 'Tomorrow's Taken' is as comforting as the most relatable of classic country, but with a fantastically surreal vibe to it that only former-shoegazers could pull off. Overall, it's Neil Young for dream pop fans. No wonder I like it. Again, I'm sorry I waited so long.

~Austin