Archive for the ‘instrumental’ Category

Album Review: Various Artists — The Birth of Soul Jazz

Monday, May 20th, 2013

Early on into my jazz odyssey* of discovery, I found that although I very much enjoyed bop, swing, free and fusion, the style of jazz that resonated most for me was soul jazz. In my unschooled manner, I tried to articulate what exactly it was about soul jazz that made it work for me in a way that, say, Dixieland (trad jazz) often does not.

Reading a bit about how the various forms developed, I came to an initial conclusion that – while it made some sense to me – was wide of the mark. I characterized soul jazz as what happened when serious jazz players (often in the hard bop or West coast styles) decided they’d had enough of scrounging for gigs, and decided to go pop. They’d scale back the exploratory, improvisatory nature of their pieces in favor of tunes that were, to put it plainly, more accessible.

I’ve learned more since forming that early opinion. While there’s an element of truth to that description, in general the development of soul jazz wasn’t so cynical a phenomenon. In fact, as Charles Waring‘s delightfully concise and detailed liner notes for the new 2cd set The Birth of Soul Jazz explains, in fact the genre is based more on gospel forms. Specifically, the call-and-response nature of African-American “spirituals” and gospel, not the major-chord variety that influenced country and western music. The result of this hybrid adds back in some of the “heart” that some listeners find wanting in the more cerebral styles of jazz. Soul jazz, you can feel.

The heyday of soul jazz was relatively brief, but its influence was long lasting. As Waring explains, “the soul jazz movement lasted just over a decade, beginning in the late 50s and fading away at the dawn of the 70s.” I’d take some issue with the latter part of that thesis: as I’ve mentioned before, a viewing of most any of the (for their time) gritty television crime dramas of the 1970s will yield many examples of soul jazz. When Mannix goes into the smoky, seedy club to apply fisticuffs and extract information, the band isn’t playing rock’n'roll; they’re playing a catchy instrumental jazz. Soul jazz.

In any event, as its title suggests, The Birth of Soul Jazz focuses in on the early days of the phenomenon. Bringing together 23 tracks representing the best of the genre from roughly 1958-1962, this set works both as historical overview and incredibly tasty soundtrack for whatever you’re up to.

Perhaps owing to me more reissue-friendly laws existing in the UK, this set collects all of the giants of soul jazz; it’s difficult to imagine an American label being able to get all of the licensing necessary to compile the hits of the era, appearing as they did on major jazz labels like Blue Note, Prestige and Pacific Jazz.

All the big names are indeed here, and represented by some of their best-loved pieces. Art Blakey & the Jazz Messengers‘ seminal 1968 reading of Bobby Timmons‘ “Moanin’” kicks things off, and the quality rarely falters over the next 157 minutes (yes, these are the full versions of these songs, sometimes ten-plus minutes; no cheesy edits here). Blakey’s splashy, flashy drumming gets things moving in style, and then the set goes on to showcase Horace Silver, The Cannonball Adderley Quintet, Hank Mobley, Lou Donaldson, Jimmy Smith, Les McCann, Herbie Hancock, Red Garland, Grant Green, Jimmy McGriff and a host of others.

Some time ago I created a Cannonball Adderley “station” on Pandora for home listening via my Blu-Ray player. I thumbs-downed any vocal tunes, and quickly ended up with a delightful playlist. Les McCann started popping up more and more often, so I made another station based around his style. That playlist quickly introduced me to nearly all of the artists whose work appears on this new The Birth of Soul Jazz set (I knew about Blakey and Jimmy Smith already). That McCann station is now one of my most oft-played selections when I’m at home (which is often). The thing is, The Birth of Soul Jazz is every bit as exciting, varied and enjoyable as that assortment. So for a collection of soul jazz that you can hold in your hand, The Birth of Soul Jazz simply can’t be beat. Essential for fans of the genre, and perhaps the best, most concise musical overview, it’s ideal for turning your friends onto this style of music.

* with apologies to Derek Smalls aka Harry Shearer.

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Album Review: Oscar Pettiford — Baden-Baden 1958/1959

Monday, May 13th, 2013

Not for the first time, Music Hound: Jazz has let me down. Jazz novitiate that I am, I was unfamiliar with the name Oscar Pettiford. So to that weighty tome I went, in hopes of gathering a bit of background to assist in my understanding of another in Jazzhaus‘ Lost Tapes series, Baden-Baden 1958/1959. Seeing as it’s jazz with which we’re concerning ourselves here, an old-school approach (turning to a reference book rather than an online resource) seemed appropriate. But there is no entry for Pettiford. (There’s no listing for Jutta Hipp in Music Hound: Jazz, either.)

Allmusic.com was far more helpful; while also mentioning Charles Mingus, its bio calls Pettiford the “top bassist of the 1945-1960 period.” Okay, good enough for me to explore further. Not counting compilations, there are some twenty albums by the bassist with his various combos and orchestras. Ulli Pfau‘s succinct bio of Pettiford graces the back cover of the LP version of Baden-Baden 1958/1959 (and the booklet accompanying the CD version).

Joined by some of his regular musicians plus a number of German players who turn up on other Jazzhaus archival recordings (among these tenor saxophonist Hans Koller), the bassist runs through an assortment of standards, originals and numbers from his accompanists. The standards include George Gershwin‘s “But Not for Me,” Duke Ellington‘s “Sophisticated Lady,” and Hoagy Carmichael‘s” The Nearness of You.” These studio recordings – taken from four dates Pettiford did in Germany, each with a different lineup – are rendered in flawless audio quality and show the facility with which Pettiford could lead his ensembles. From close-miked trios to scaled-down arrangements of big band numbers (most notably Helmut Brandt‘s “Atlantic”), the set is a delight.

One of the earliest musicians to introduce the cello into jazz, Pettiford brings that instrument out for “My Little Cello.” This number is available on a handful of other recordings, but all date from the months surrounding this particular Baden-Baden studio date of February 24, 1959.

Pettiford’s recording career under his own name began in 1954, but by the time of these recordings he had relocated to Europe, settling in Copenhagen. By 1960 he was dead, from injuries sustained in an auto accident. Though there are many other Pettiford albums, most of the songs cut on the Baden-Baden dates are tunes he never recorded elsewhere. (The CD version includes six tracks not on the LP version, including two live cuts that often figured into his live sets: the Pettiford original “All the Things You Are,” and Jerome Kern‘s “Blues in the Closet.”)

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Album Review: Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective

Monday, March 25th, 2013

Seven CDs represents quite a lot of music. And all of the music on Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective was recorded in the space of six and half year years. The earliest tracks date from spring 1965, and the latest cuts were recorded in fall 1971. But the 129 tracks span an impressively wide stylistic range, making the case (if such a case really needed making) that Duane Allman was one of the great guitarists of his generation. As a band leader, jam/collaborator and/or session player, Allman never failed to bring a fresh and unique approach to the song at hand.

While Allman developed a signature style – especially on slide guitar – he was adept and bending his style in the direction other artists’s projects needed. The result (as showcased mostly on discs 2-5) was that Duane Allman seemed always to improve a session, but he could do so in a way that didn’t necessarily call attention to him. It’s dangerous to project ideas of personalty upon an artist who’s no longer with us, but there’s plenty of evidence on Skydog that Allman was not an egocentric player.

On some of the tracks, Allman’s just there doing his part, and he’s sometimes buried in the mix. But if one listens closely, there’s always something interesting to hear coming out of the man’s guitar.

Some of the earliest material Allman recorded has circulated among collectors, and some has seen official release before. But The Escorts (one of his earliest bands) are shown to be a pretty tight little unit. The Allman Joys leaned heavily in a Yardbirds-centric direction, but they did it convincingly: somehow the band manages to sound like they wrote the songs, as opposed to coming off like one of those awful “not the original artist” acts on so many cheap compilation LPs of the era. And the Hour Glass tracks show that Allman’s band belongs on any list of important Nuggets-era garage/psych bands.

As Allman moved into session work – he was a regular and popular fixture at the Muscle Shoals studios – his playing ability advanced, and the sheer breadth of his stylistic palette expanded in many directions. His work on covers (Clarence Carter‘s reading of The Doors‘ “Light My Fire,” Wilson Pickett‘s “Hey Jude” and Aretha Franklin‘s “The Weight” to name but three of many ace cuts) shows that be brought his sensibility to bear on these unique interpretations of well-known songs.

Equally at home on soulful blues numbers (Otis Rush, King Curtis), odd, near-novelty tunes (“Hand Jive” by The Duck and the Bear) and art-pop (Laura Nyro‘s “Beads of Sweat”), Allman was a man for all seasons.

Skydog isn’t a cheap set: it lists for well over $100. But for anyone who has more than a passing interest in Allman’s music and musicianship, there are countless reasons to justify the purchase. There’s a healthy amount of previously-unreleased material here. And because Duane played on so many disparate sessions, the odds are good that you won’t have large chunks of this material in your collection already. Moreover, there’s a minimum of crushingly-obvious selections here, even though somes song simply had to be included (Derek & the Dominos‘ “Layla,” Boz Scaggs‘ epic barnburner “Loan Me a Dime”). There’s also less Allman Brothers Band music than one might expect (less than twenty songs), and when it is there, it’s especially tasty.

And the packaging is nothing short of stunning. Housed in a sturdy box made to look like a guitar case (right down to the furry gold lining inside), the package uses no plastic (except the discs themselves, of course), instead protecting the CDs in printed paper sleeves. A lovely booklet (color covers, duotones inside) is filled with discographical information, photos and thoughtful essays. A “Skydog” decal and commemorative guitar pick are also nice little touches. But none of that would matter if the music wasn’t wonderful. And it most certainly is. After working one’s way through the exhaustive musical history that is Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective, listeners will surely come away with a couple of enduring thoughts. One, Allman sure did a lot of good work in the space of a short six years or so. And two, had he not lost his life, he doubtless would have gone on to do even more of similarly enduring quality.

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Album Review: Jutta Hipp – The German Recordings 1952-1955

Monday, March 11th, 2013

Had the life and career of Jutta Hipp not happened, pop culture might have had to fabricate them. Hers is such a unique, compelling, mystifying and ultimately frustrating story that it begs for a Hollywood treatment (one wonders why this hasn’t happened). In the 1950s, there were precious few female jazz pianists. Even fewer of them were from Germany, of all places. But Jutta Hipp fit those descriptions, and seemed ready-made for success: not only could she play, but the red-haired beauty was quite nice to look at as well.

Her recorded output, however, was quite slim: four albums on Blue Note, all released within the space of less than two years, plus the A-side of a 1955 album on MGM. Shortly thereafter (as in, within a year) she emigrated to New York City, and by 1958 she had left music altogether, and effectively disappeared from the music world, never to return. She died in 2003.

Yet Jazzhaus – the new label curating rare jazz recording made in Germany – has found an album’s worth of unreleased material, and some of it predates her Blue Note work by as much as three years. Variously recorded live and in the studio, the three sessions on The German Recordings 1952-1955 easily earn Jazzhaus’ “Lost Tapes” designation.

The November 1952 tracks are a performance in front a live audience. Hipp’s effectrively-solo “Blues After Hours” (the rhythm section is nearly inaudible) finds her sounding quite stiff: while she plays well – her right hand work is as dexterous as her left-hand is steady and solid – her performance is overly-mannered, as if she’s terrified at playing in front of the crowd. As her band mates come in, she seems to loosen up a bit; by the end of the track, she has audibly warmed up. The difference in delivery on “Erroll’s Bounce” is staggering: with the band providing more audible support, Hipp lets loose, and the sprightly emotion pours forth as the band swings. As the remaining tracks unfold, Hans Koller adds his tenor sax to the mix, and the performances lean toward smooth and romantic (“You Go to My Head”) and contemplative (a reading of Cole Porter‘s “What is This Thing Called Love”). Overall the audio fidelity is passable for a live date, and its rarity makes it essential.

Side Two (this album is not available on CD, instead only on 180-gram vinyl plus an MP3 download card) features a pair of studio dates. The first ates from six months after the Jazztime performance, and is the artifact of a shellac recording made for the Brunswick label. Those two numbers – an Albert Mangelsdorff original called “Sound-Koller” and “Come Back to Sorrento” showcase a much more self-assured Hipp and much improved production and fidelity. Hipp displays subtlety, poise and inventiveness here, and shares the spotlight with her band (including Mangelsdorff on trombone).

Two years later Hipp was back in the studio to cut four more numbers; the upgrade in audio quality here is stunning, and finally worthy of the 180-gram treatment Jazzhaus gives it on this new release. With a band that now includes the lyrical interplay between guitarist Attila Zoller (her then-fiancee, though they never married), Mangelsdorff and Joki Freund on sax, Hipp truly comes into her own; these tracks, especially “Daily Double” sound little like her work of a mere thirty months earlier. Hipp’s playing is at once assured and lyrical; her commanding right-hand work on “Indian Summer” is a delight. She takes it soft and sensitive on “Everything Happens to Me,” during which she carries the melody on piano through the entire song. Her final recording in Germany – she abruptly left for New York mere weeks after this date, never to return – is a spirited reading of Freund’s “Serpentine,” during which each player takes his/her turn in the spotlight.

Up to now, Jutta Hipp’s entire recorded output totaled four and half LPs worth of material; with this new release – likely clearing the unreleased archives for good – an important addition to both her catalog and that of jazz in general has been made.

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Capsule Reviews: March 2013, Part 1

Friday, March 8th, 2013

Here’s another in my occasional series of capsule reviews; once again I had a huge stack of CDs deserving of review, but time doesn’t allow for full-length reviews of everything, and these were in danger of gathering dust. They deserve better. My self-imposed limit for this particular exercise is 150 words on each album.

Deni Bonet – It’s All Good
Typically, I’m not drawn to folky female fiddlers. That’s what I wrongly assumed Deni Bonet was; her music’s much harder to pin down than that. Sure, her violin playing is up front, but her tunes are exuberant, highly catchy pop songs. Imagine Nurds-era Roches with an even more playful side, and a more rock-centric approach. It certainly helps that Bonet is aided in her musical goals by co-writer (on some tracks) and producer Richard Barone, a legendary talent in his own right. Bonet has a clear, appealing voice, and her songs stick in your mind long after the CD’s done spinning. Steve Holley (of late-period Wings) plays drums on several tracks, and Bonet’s violin often serves the sonic role normally assigned to electric guitar. And when there is lead guitar, Bonet’s fiddle engages in lively sparring. REM‘s Peter Buck lends massive guitar overdubbage support on “Safety Date.” Fun stuff.


Thorcraft Cobra – Count It In
The first few seconds of the opening track are a red herring: Autotune/Vocoder-treated vocals chirp “You can count me out,” and for a second, I shared that sentiment. But then a muffled laugh gave way to a power-chording rocker much more in tune with my musical sensibilities. Taking a page from such his-n-her acts as Captain and Tennille and Sonny & Cher (okay, not really), Thorcraft Cobra‘s Billy Zimmer (guitar) and Tammy Glover (drums; both sing) actually have little in common with those acts. Nor, thank goodness, are they yet another White Stripes retread. Instead they ply their trade in the punky powerpop end of the pool, and enlist help from kindred spirits Steve McDonald (of punky powerpop legends Redd Kross) and Russ Mael of those prototypical bent art rockers, Sparks. The augmented duo amps things up to Cheap Trick levels, with a sly wit recalling Fountains of Wayne.


Backhouse Lily – Discoma
When the drum-n-bass subgenre came on the scene in the 90s, I didn’t pay much attention. It didn’t move me. But clearly some very interesting things can be done with a rhythm section if the players are good enough, and if the inspiration is there. Back in the 90s Ben Folds Five‘s Robert Sledge showed that electric bass could credibly be used as a lead instrument without being overly gimmicky. But Backhouse Lily turns both of those aforementioned concepts on their heads: yes, they’re drum-n-bass, but their approach is a sort of instrumental progressive rock, not miles away from Russian Circles but with a much more commercial flavor. Like the work of no wave auteur Glenn Branca, Backhouse Lily’s music often suggests the presence of instruments that simply aren’t there. What is there is bass-led music that’s a helluva lot more fun (and miles smarter) than, say, Primus. Highly recommended.


Secret Friend – Time Machine
Australia has an uncanny knack for turning out some of the sunniest, catchiest, friendly (but not lightweight) pop music. Sure, it’s a really big country, and generalizations are hard to make, but there’s no way to explain away the finely-wrought and seemingly effortless kind of music that Secret Friend presents on this album. Reminiscent in places of The Milk and Honey Band, Secret Friend (Steven Fox and Linus of Hollywood plus assorted friends) crafts breezy songs that are impossibly appealing. Keen listeners will hear all sorts of influences, as the songs aren’t all built around a fixed set of instruments, but Fox doesn’t lean too much in any one direction. The result is a sound that’s all his own. Sometimes vocalist Willie Wisely sounds a bit like Justin Hayward fronting, say, Haircut 100. His female foil is the honey-voiced Kelly Jones. Time Machine is MUST-hear for fans of infectious pop.

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Album Review: Huw Lloyd-Langton – Rare & Unreleased Anthology 1971-2012

Friday, February 22nd, 2013

You could be forgiven if, upon seeing the cover of Rare & Unreleased Anthology 1971-2012 for the first time, you chuckled and thought it sported a photo of Spinal Tap‘s Nigel Tufnel. Huw Lloyd-Langton‘s golden tresses may well have served as the inspiration for Christopher Guest‘s immortal character. But this compilation – actually in the works before Lloyd-Langton’s untimely death on December 6, 2012 – is a nice survey of best-of and gap-filling material from the former Hawkwind guitarist.

The first disc includes twenty-one cuts, many of which feature Lloyd-Langton on solo acoustic guitar (with a bit of electric guitar overdub). These are clearly demos; there’s little in the way of sonic variation, and it’s likely that all the tracks were cut at a single seating in 1971. But there’s a homespun charm that gives the tracks a feeling quite similar to the demos Badfinger‘s Pete Ham cut around the same time. “Sleep” sounds like the sort of thing Pink Floyd might have cut for the Zabriskie Point soundtrack; pastoral textures were all the rage for hard rockers in those days.

The 1973 cuts from the band Magill rock a good bit harder, but feature some very mannered warbling that sounds halfway between David Bowie at his most strident and, say, Uriah Heep‘s David Byron. A country-flavored “Feed Your Friends With a Long Handled Spoon” feels like bandwagon jumping, but it’s fun nonetheless.

Five cuts from a band called Jawa (1979) show a band reasonably in step with the prevailing late-period boogie-rock sounds of the era, but the fidelity is pretty poor, suggesting these were cut to cassette. It’s a “Damn Shame,” since these rank among the most interesting songs on the collection. The first disc wraps up with a 1999 track from The Lloyd-Langton Group (clever name, eh?) recorded – but not used – for a Hawkwind tribute album. Honestly, the desultory, anemic performance answers the question as to why it went unused.

The second disc is a thoroughly different affair. Focusing on Lloyd-Langton’s skills as a guitarist (as a singer, he’s only adequate), half of the disc is a survey of instrumental tracks from his various albums in the 1980s onward. “Alien Jiggers” is a full rock ensemble piece from 1985, and it’s tuneful, rocking, accessible stuff some might find reminiscent of Camel at their least progressive. Some of the 80s stuff suffers from gated-reverb drums and other period trappings, but Lloyd-Langton’s guitar work often raises the level enough to forgive such transgressions. His polished acoustic work here (as opposed to the demos on the first disc) is also lovely. The disc concludes with a half dozen “new” acoustic guitar instrumentals (again, sometimes with electric overdubs), likely intended as demos or basic tracks for a project that, sadly, Lloyd-Langton would not live to finish. Here – especially on “Fragile Journey” – he sometimes sounds like Jimmy Page circa Led Zeppelin III; these tracks are highly recommended.

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Album Review: Bobbi Humphrey – Dig This!

Wednesday, February 13th, 2013

Some jazz purists might look down their noses and sniff at the style known as soul jazz. And wile I don’t share their point of view, I understand where they’re coming from. Often as not, soul jazz is (or was, during its late 60s -to-early 70s heyday) a case of ace jazz cats making music acceptable enough for the masses who find regular jazz to inaccessible, too out-there. And with its folding in influences of rock, rhythm & blues and even disco, soul jazz can seem – in the eyes and ears of its detractors, at least – as the worst of all possible worlds, a sellout.

But I tend to look past that, and in return find some really fun music that evokes a time and place in pop culture. The best soul jazz – really just jazz with more conventional melodic forms – can move the listener in a way that the more cerebral stuff might not.

At the tender age of 21, flautist Bobbi Humphrey had already secured a contract with the highly esteemed Blue Note label, and cut Dig This! as her followup to her debut of the previous year, Flute In. While Humphrey’s lyrical flute work is always out front, able backing provides her songs with the texture they need. Humphrey’s strength lay not in compositional skills: all eight pieces on Dig This! are covers or written by others. But this music is – thanks in large part to the deft, expanisive arrangements – the kind of thing that movies get made around. “Smiling Faces Sometimes” focuses more on the underlying riff than the signature melody, and some way-funky clavinet and electric guitar make this nearly the equal of the original. When Humphrey spars with guitarist David Spinozza near the song’s end, it’s a thrill; Wade Marcus‘ sympathetic string arrangement only heightens the vibe.

“Virtue” is an abstract piece, closer in some ways to Miles DavisBitches Brew than any sort of soul jazz. Davis sideman Ron Carter is the bassist throughout Dig This!, by the way. “I Love Every Little Thing About you” sounds like the theme to a film of TV show of the era, with its bright and catchy melody, shuffling proto-disco drums and more of those funky bass and clavinet breaks.

Taken as a whole, the music on Dig This! can reward close listening, revealing some exciting playing and arrangement. Or it can serve as pleasant, uptempo background music of the sort that doesn’t insist upon total attention. It’s the rare album that succeeds on both levels. Long unavailable in any form, Dig This! got a well-deserved re-release – its fist ever in digital format – by Real Gone Music in very late 2012.

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Album Review: Duke Ellington Orchestra – Big Bands Live

Friday, February 8th, 2013

Duke Ellington is one of the most important figures in American music, let alone within the jazz idiom. Bandleader, arranger, pianist, composer, popularizer of jazz…Ellington’s influence is incalculable. His vast catalog of work is filled with essential gems. My own first conscious/intentional exposure to his work was via a used vinyl copy of Ellington at Newport, the legendary 1956 LP that documented the near-riotous (an I mean literally) festival concert. A fuller version of that concert – a fascinating sort of “stereo” mix made from two separate mixes of the live performance — came out on a multi-CD set in 199. Both are simply essential.

By the time of Newport, Ellington’s recording career was entering its fourth decade. And he’d continue onward, leading exciting bands well into his later year. In 1967 – a time by which the big band era had long since receded into history – the Duke Ellington Orchestra gave a concert on March 6 at Germany’s Liederhalle Stuttgart. And luckily for posterity, that concert was recorded in stereo high fidelity. The archivists at the Jazzhaus label have brought this late-period Ellington show to modern-day listeners with the previously unreeleased recrding, lart of the label’s Big Bands Live series.

With a band that featured tenor saxophonist Paul Gonsalves (the man largely responsible for inciting the aforementioned Newport near-riot), Ellington himself on piano and thirteen others, this truly was a big band. With a set list that kicked off with an perfunctory (under a minute!) run-through of “Take the ‘A’ Train,” Ellington and his band seemed to want to get onto the more challenging stuff. They tore through thirteen songs, drawing mostly from Ellington originals and pieces by longtime collaborator Billy Strayhorn. With little or nothing left to prove, Ellington led the band through works such as “La Plus Belle Africaine” and “A Chromatic Love Affair.” A few standard-type songs are tossed into the mix, but overall this is a more serious outing for the band.

Staggeringly prolific, Ellington released a vast number of albums. The liner notes for Big Bands Live note that Ellington “released around 35 albums between 1960 and 1967 alone, including adaptations of classical works, the ‘Far East Suite’ and the ‘Sacred Concerts.’” With so much material, it’s nearly impossible – and largely fruitless – to recommend one over another, but this Big Bands Live release nonetheless remains a welcome addition to the Ellington canon. Presented in peerless sound quality, it’s a thrilling document of a band that defiantly refuses to accept that the time for their style of music has come and gone. They play accordingly, and modern-day listeners are rewarded with this wonderful audio treasure.

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Capsule Reviews: January 2013, Part 4

Tuesday, January 22nd, 2013

Here’s still another installment in my occasional series of capsule reviews; today I cover rock, prog, industrial/EDM and…you decide. I had a huge stack of CDs deserving of review, but time doesn’t allow for full-length reviews of everything, and these were beginning to gather dust. They deserve better. My self-imposed limit for this particular exercise is 150 words on each album.

Tangerine Dream – Under Cover
When you think of Tangerine Dream, chances are good that the sort of music which comes to mind is a sort of analog synthesizer-based style, one that at worst straddles the gap between ambient and prog. Sort of a Pink Floyd meets Brian Eno. And while the German group has never been afraid to branch out – some of their earliest material used electric guitar, and they’ve employed vocals before – at first glance (and listen!), their approach on Under Cover seems odd. The concept here is to take the works of other artists and create new arrangements filtered through the distinctive Tangerine Dream sensibility. As lofty a goal as that might seem, in practice all it really means is cutting an album of cover tunes. What exactly David Bowie‘s “Heroes” has to do with – gasp! – The Eagles‘ “Hotel California,” I don’t even want to know.

Zweiton – Form
Touch guitar is an instrument used primarily in progressive rock and related avant-garde settings; you won’t hear it on the latest Britney Spears comeback. A mightily expressive instrument that’s tapped rather than strummed (think Eddie Van Halen but add an exponential amount of creativity and take away the booze), it allows for the creation of some music that sounds like the work of several guitarists at once. The touch guitar isn’t far-removed from the Chapman Stick in that way. The instrumental album that is Form combines a variety of influences – prog-metal, dance music and more – to create something that is somehow more accessible and musical than any of those styles. Form is in turns graceful, aggressive, rocking and beautifully lyrical; sometimes it’s all those at once. With its polyrhythms and knotty guitar lines, “Treibwerk” recalls Discipline-era King Crimson. Recommended for adventurous fans who still dig a beat.

Adrian Benavides – Same Time, Next Life
The one-sheet for this release describes the record thusly: “…sounds and feels like a contemporary heavy version of Sylvian/Fripp‘s The First Day. There certainly is a Crimson connection here: Markus Reuter and Pat Mastelotto join Adrian Benavides for this swirling maelstrom of sound. This music leans in a very aggressive direction – think Nine Inch Nails but with a much more prog spin – appropriate with its (not strictly autobiographical but inspired by actual and related personal experience) subject matter, the “story of a grieving father from shock to acceptance after the death of his daughter.” Not a fun subject to be sure, but the music does convey a wide range of emotions. Whether you’re in the mood for such a trip, however, is up to you. My tastes run toward the more contemplative tracks (“Reflection II,” “Reflection III”) but the whole trip is one worth making.

Fischer’s Flicker – Katmandon’t!
I get tons of CDs in the mail. And don’t get me wrong: I’m grateful that people (recording artists, publicists, label reps) think enough of my work to bother with the postage. Some of these are unsolicited, and some fall into the “well okay, you can send it, but no promises” category. So when they show up, they go in a big pile. I do give them all a (partial or more) listen, but I’ll admit that cover art plays a role in developing preconceptions. This one has a goofy cover image, and when it comes to self-released works, that often is Strike One. Luckily I got past that and listened to Katmandon’t!, which really sounds like a contemporary version of The Band, with a bit of Leon Russell and maybe Wilco thrown in. Scott Fischer has an endearingly Rick Danko styled voice, and a strong sense of melody.

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Album Review: Various Artists – Surf Age Nuggets

Friday, December 14th, 2012

Across many traditions, December is the height of the gift-giving season. I’m here to tell you that for the music lover in your life – at least one who appreciates off-the-beaten-path music of days gone by – the perfect gift is now available. It’s called Surf Age Nuggets: Trash & Twang Instrumentals 1959-1966, and title tells you nearly everything you need to know. More than hundred instro-rockers are collected on four CDs, and unless you’re the hardest of hardcore surf-rock aficionados, you won’t know more than a very small handful of these tracks.

Seemingly the choice of what to include on Surf Age Nuggets gave equal weight to two factors: performance/arrangement (though not sonic) quality and relative obscurity. How else to explain that these tracks – most of which were from 45rpm singles and never appeared on any long-player of any sort – are so incredibly obscure. Think of Surf Age Nuggets as the Pebbles of surf-rock. All manner of goofily clichéd band names are here: The Tradewinds, The Sting Rays, The Newport Nomads, The Elite UFO – and the relatively lo-fi production aesthetic (no Phil Spector vibe here) is generally a bit harsh on the ears.

But as a document of stuff-you’ve-never-heard, Surf Age Nuggets is a real gem. While modern-day exponents of the genre (most notably Los Straitjackets, and, briefly The Sadies) do an admirable and invaluable job of keeping the style alive, these kids (and they were most often just that: kids:) twang their Fenders without a trace of irony. Riff-rockers awash in reverb are the order of the day across some five hours of instro-rock on Surf Age Nuggets. If you like this kind of thing, you’ll love this. If you don’t like surf-rock, you’ll have a headache fifteen minutes into the first CD.

If the music were all there was on Surf Age Nuggets, it would be enough. But no: the packaging is amazing. While Rhino pretty well set the standard for lovely compilation packages with its Love is the Song We Sing: San Francisco Nuggets 1965-1970 and Where the Action Is! Los Angeles Nuggets: 1965-1968, they have since surrendered to what they see as the handwriting on the wall, largely abandoning the lavish packaging format. But Rock Beat has picked up the baton with Surf Age Nuggets. The heavy hardcover book format houses the discs in a user-friendly manner, and the splashy pages inside are a treasure, filled with vintage photography, ads of the era, and liner notes that make the most out of what undoubtedly was generally very spotty historical/discographical information about this delightfully motley collection of no-hit wonders.

Come to think of it, go buy this set for yourself, and tell your friends to get their own.

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