Archive for the ‘Americana’ Category

Album Review: Phil Lee – The Fall & Further Decline of the Mighty King of Love

Thursday, February 21st, 2013

I nearly passed this one by. The cover turned me off, and as I’ve mentioned before, with so many CDs for potential review, an off-putting cover image can sometimes be enough to cause me to just move on. Guy with a hat? Check. Acoustic guitar in hand? Check. Female cover model who I find, well, shall we say, non-arousing? Double-check. But for whatever reason, I decided to give this unwieldy-titled album (The Fall & Further Decline of the Mighty King of Love) a spin.

And it’s pretty damn fine. Phil Lee is a weathered, wizened troubadour, and he sounds like the sort of guy you’d cross at your own peril. But his lyrics are strong and paint evocative pictures. And the musicianship and arrangement is a tasty balance of laid-back and tight-as-a-duck’s ass. The songs all sound as if they were cut with all the effects knobs turned to zero: no bullshit studio trickery for this guy. And that approach suits him well, on songs like the NSFW “Blues in Reverse,” which is sexy, sassy and swaggering all at once.

“All You Need” sounds like a much more countrified Neil Young. “I Like Everything” feels like (but doesn’t sound like) zydeco; it’s not a stretch to imagine the likes of Willie Nelson having a lot of fun with this one. “She Don’t Let Love Get in the Way” shows that Lee is adept at mastering whatever style he sets his sights upon; one can imagine him cutting a very effective rock album were he so inclined. “What Your Baby Wants” is country blues, and “Let your Mind Roll On” is a jugband romp. A credits-roll of “She Don’t Let Love Get in the Way” caps things off nicely, and a bootleg-sounding live “It Can’t Hurt” will leave those who’ve already been won over by Lee’s studio stuff anxious for the opportunity to see and hear his engaging presence live onstage.

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Album Review: The Coal Porters – Find the One

Wednesday, February 6th, 2013

I have a friend who possesses a much wider range of musical interest than my own. Unlike me, she rarely concerns herself with such trifling issues as what genre best describes a particular act. And because – at least I tell myself this is why – she doesn’t spend the better part of her free time writing about music, she doesn’t concern herself unduly with questions such as, “Why do I like (or – much less often — dislike) this?”

And while I don’t always share her affinity for certain acts or styles of music, I often respect her opinion. And she sometimes returns that respect by taking me to task for expressing my dislike for some-or-other artist. And that’s fair enough, because if I can’t back up my point of view, I shouldn’t spend a lot of time expressing it in print.

Occasionally, though, I stumble across something that – at first glance – I “shouldn’t” like. When I say shouldn’t here, I mean that the music doesn’t fit into one of the categories or styles I generally enjoy. And when I think about why this is the case (because, unlike that friend I mentioned, I do think about it), I come to one or two conclusions: either (a) the music features large amounts of things to which I can relate (read: elements of rock music) or (b) the music is so wonderful overall that it transcends genre, even for a listener such as myself.

Now, maybe to someone who’s never listened to Sid Griffin‘s 1980s band The Long Ryders, the music of his current band The Coal Porters doesn’t sound especially rock-influenced. And it may well not be in any sort of overt, easily-identifiable way. Clearly, The Long Ryders always had a strong leaning in what might be labeled alt.country or Americana, though neither epithet was in wide usage in those days.

And maybe it’s because I recognize Griffin’s voice from those rocking tunes when I hear songs like “Barefoot on the Courthouse Lawn.” But I think there’s much more to it than that. Griffin (composer or co-composer of nearly all the songs on the new album Find the One) has always been rooted in popular song forms. So even though the instrumentation is firmly in bluegrass/newgrass territory (fiddles, banjos, mandolins) the songs really do transcend whatever limitations those narrowly-defined genres might seek to impose.

Maybe, too, it’s that The Coal Porters are based in the UK; as a result, perhaps they’ve imbibed some of the British folk influences – you know, Bert Jansch, Richard Thompson (the latter of whom guests on the record!) – that inform the kind of rock I like much more than American folk ever did.

Or maybe, in the end, I’m just guilty (once again) of overthinking the why and overlooking the what. The what in this case is a lovely collection of straight-ahead melodies that put the vocals and lyrics right out front, and that are fully textured with delightful instrumentation. The fiddle solos on tracks like “Hush U Babe/Burnham Thorpe” are every bit as thrilling in their own way as electric guitar solos. And Griffin and his bandmates aren’t afraid to push in both directions: there’s musical saw (you know, the thing from a toolshed) on “Gospel Shore” (it sounds like a Theremin) and a real sitar on an inventive cover of The Rolling Stones‘ “Paint It, Black.” The Coal Porters seem to find the latter song’s hitherto unknown ska roots, yet they make the song sound as if it had been written to be played the way they play it.

Throughout Find the One, the band’s use of Tali Trow on electric bass – rather than upright “doghouse” bass – helps warm the music for the ears of rock-centric listeners such as myself. Griffin trades (and/or shares) vocal duties with Carly Frey (violin), but all four members sing. And while the songs certainly aren’t comedy numbers, humor is a key ingredient throughout. What would you expect from a band with such a punning name, one who includes a notice on their sleeve notes that “No varmints or critters were harmed in the making of this album.”

It’s difficult to know if Find the One – or anything else by The Coal Porters – will end up serving as my entry point into a deeper appreciation of bluegrass-type music. So far I have largely resisted whatever appeal that genre has, though I live in a town fully immersed in it. But I think I’ll take this opportunity – just this once, mind you – to avoid over-analysis, and instead just enjoy a mighty fine album. My friend will surely like it, too.

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Album Review: Wanda Jackson – The Best of the Classic Capitol Singles

Thursday, January 31st, 2013

If you want a potted history – albeit one from a provocative perspective, and with its own axe to grind – of Wanda Jackson‘s career, I recommend you put your hands on Nick Tosches‘ Unsung Heroes of Rock’n’Roll: The Birth of Rock in the Wild Years Before Elvis. But for the music itself, your go-to item simply must be the new Omnivore Recordings collection, The Best of the Classic Capitol Singles. Wild beyond description, some of the songs on this 29-track set display the high points of a really out-there recording artist.

Jackson’s opening single for the label, “I Gotta Know” veers wildly between rockabilly (or just plain rock) and two-step country. It rocks (so to speak) back and forth, keeping the listener delightfully off balance. Music didn’t often get this adventurous – especially in the Nashville idiom (these tracks were recorded in either Nashville or Hollywood). While the b-sides included here (half of the material, natch) lean in a safer, c&w direction, the a-sides are all over the stylistic map, and in the best way possible.

It’s difficult to imagine just how incendiary this music must have seemed upon initial hearing back in the 50s and 60s. There simply wasn’t a precedent – among white folks, at least – for the sort of unbridled, in-your-face approach that Jackson brought to music. One could almost argue that her sassy approach in songs like “Hot Dog! That Made Him Mad” is something approaching proto-feminist. A neat trick, that: putting forth the image of a strong, assertive woman, and doing it in a way that was sexy to men of that era.

But again, there’s the whiplash of flipping those 45s over and hearing straight-ahead country of “Silver Threads and Golden Needles.” Those tunes are expertly arranged and performed, but they’re not groundbreaking. So listening to The Best of the Classic Capitol Singles straight through remains a jarring experience. Perhaps that’s as it should be: Jackson was never – not then, not now – interested in being boxed into one style, one label.

I saw Wanda Jackson perform a showcase set at last fall’s Americana Music Association Festival & Conference; though she’s now 75 years old, she put on one hell of a show. Backed by a rough-and-tumble rockabilly band, she tore through her songs old and new, and threw lascivious leers and come-hither looks at the men in the audience (including me, in the front row). It was funny stuff, what with her looking like somebody’s grandmother and all, but Jackson balanced a winking I-know-what-I’m-doing-up-here sensibility with a true love and affinity for the music. She’s one of a rare few who seems to have no use for the stylistic boxes musical artists allow themselves to be placed in. Yes, she’s often known as the Queen of Rockabilly, but she’s much more than that, and this new set of a- and b-sides from her classic era show Wanda Jackson at her very best. Essential.

Here’s Wanda Jackson performing her “Fujiyama Mama,” (a hit in Japan in 1957!) at the AMA Festival last year.

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Capsule Reviews: January 2013, Part Two

Wednesday, January 16th, 2013

Here’s another installment in my occasional series of capsule reviews, this time covering new releases by indie/self-released artists. My self-imposed limit for this particular exercise is 150 words on each album.

War Poets – Dulce et Decorum Est
Every so often an act comes along that is – or at least seems to be – less a group and more a collective. New Pornographers, Traveling Wilburys, The Grays…whether these outfits stayed together a long time is less important than the special quality they all possessed: talent and creativity to burn. Now, while those aforementioned acts are made up of names you’d recognize, that quality is not always a necessary ingredient. Case in point is War Poets. This outfit is comprised of no less than six songwriters; they’re even listed as such in the liner notes of Dulce et Decorum Est, rather than, y’know, bandmembers. Don’t be put off by the foreign-sounding title; this is some seriously accessible-yet-varied music, one of the most consistently engaging releases I’ve heard in some time. Moreover, it’s a 2cd set, divided into “Rock Songs” and “Ballads” (guess which disc I prefer.)

The JAC – Faux Pas
I make no apologies: I love powerpop, but I’m not an uncritical fan of the genre. Some of it’s near-transcendent, and some of it feels by-the-numbers. Though The Brittanicas get mostly positive critical notices, they don’t knock me out (don’t get me wrong: I don’t dislike ‘em a bit). But one half of that duo is Australian Joe Algeri, and he’s gone walkabout and crafted a solo set under the moniker The JAC. Faux Pas is a lovely collection of jangly, wheezy-organ, hooky rock pop of the first order. The opening track, “I Play All the Instruments” tells you all you need to know about The JAC, and does so in grinning, catchy style. Algeri has a number of stylistic tricks – bits of Italian lyrics, backward guitar and chiming Ricks – up his sleeve. As, too, is a bonus disc of covers that show the man’s peerless taste.

Ben Levin Group – Invisible Paradise
Subtlety and variation are the watchwords on this release. An unusual suite of songs, Invisible Paradise often leans strongly in an art-pop direction, but there are strong classical (chamber music) tones, some really aggressively hard-rocking passages, and definitely a strong whiff of progressive-rock mentality. But all of those disparate-on-paper elements are woven together into a thrilling joyride of an album. This is music that hits you squarely with a one-two punch, to both the head and heart. The soaring beauty of the arrangements is set against some stomping rock-centric playing. The whole damn thing runs the length of an old-school album (about 38 minutes) and it all tumbles together. If you like your music widescreen and melodramatic without being pretentious, you’ll dig this. Imagine Dixie Dregs crossed with Zappa and Opeth. Invisible Paradise is perhaps the best new thing of its kind in quite awhile. Track it down and enjoy.

Brian Lisik – The Mess that Money Could Buy
Imagine if John Mellecamp (they called him Johnny Cougar back when I saw him open for The Kinks) had a stronger pop sensibility, but held onto his mid-America lyrical vision. If that transformation took place, he might just change his name to Brian Lisik. A good-timin’ bunch of songs that owe as much to The Replacements as anything else, the songs on The Mess that Money Could Buy will appeal to those who like their rock friendly and accessible, full of singalong choruses and head-nodding beat with just the right amount of twang to keep things grounded. Lots of those chiming suspended guitar chords abound, and the rhythm changes up often enough to hold the listener’s interest at a high level through the record’s eleven songs. And – this is important – although it is credited to Brian Lisik, the album feels and sounds like the work of a band.

The Drysdales – Dakota
Who would have ever thought that when in Nashville for last fall’s Americana Music Association Conference and Festival, I’d bump into an online friend at a show (the Big Star tribute). But that’s exactly what happened: though songwriter Patrick Potts wasn’t there specifically for AMA, we met and shared an indeterminate number of beers. But that’s not why I’m here to tell you about Dakota, the new CD from his band The Drysdales. No, I mention it ’cause it’s good. Stonesy rock with a higher emphasis on dual-lead harmony vocals, The Drysdales sound like what Mick and his pals (circa 1972) might sound like if they showed up in your living room and played. Without the smack, of course. If you need more of a recommendation, consider two heavy friends who dropped in to help out on the record: Jon Brant (Cheap Trick) and Brad Elvis (Elvis Brothers / Handcuffs). Yeah.

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Happy Birthday, Van Dyke Parks!

Thursday, January 3rd, 2013

Owing to the distractions of the holiday season, today’s scheduled blog entry isn’t quite ready. So while I finish it, I invite you to celebrate the 70th birthday of acclaimed songwriter / arranger / producer Van Dyke Parks by reading a pair of interviews I did with him. (Parks, of course, is perhaps most well-known — somewhat to his chagrin — as Brian Wilson‘s collaborator on the Great Lost [and found] Album of the 1960s, The Beach Boys‘ SMiLE. But there’s so, so so much more to him than that.)

The first feature/interview is from late 2011 and took place over coffee here in Asheville NC. The second was a “20 Questions” format piece done in 2012 for Shindig! Magazine. Parks is one of my favorite interview subjects; he’s endlessly quotable, quite a raconteur, and possessed of some of the drollest wit since Mark Twain. I mean, just look at his calling card (pictured above), for goodness’ sake.

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45rpm Roundup

Wednesday, October 31st, 2012

The 45rpm vinyl format isn’t dead. In fact, I see more of those little seven-inchers in my mailbox these days than I did even a couple of years ago. Here I take a look at four recent submissions. None is at all musically like the others, and seven out of the eight songs are highly recommended.

D A W N S – “So Help Me God” b/w “Camouflage”
Reading about this one, I was expecting some sort of Americana-oriented sounds. In fact the press sheet sent along with the disc (actually a 33rpm record) notes that the “touring band is an eclectic six-piece outfit with upright bass, cello, lap steel, bow saw and percussion…” But that’s not the vibe they conjure on ”So Help Me God.” They stomp through the song, sounding like a more melody-oriented Arcade Fire with better songwriting and a singer whose voice doesn’t grate on me. The flip, “Camouflage,” does present a slightly more acoustic-flavored approach; the haunted and breathy vocals, shimmering guitars and sparse, echoey production recall Big Star‘s Third. How can that not be great? And the direction the tune takes in its final minute is an unexpected treat. Plenty of shade and light on this record; if it’s a teaser to a forthcoming long-player, I’m all ears. White vinyl.

Rick Berlin w/the Nickel & Dime Band – Always On Insane (“Summer Roof” b/w “I’m Jes’ Sayin’”)
Ska in 2012? Well, okay. Sounding like some bizarre cross between Warren Zevon and Mental As Anything, “Summer Roof” features peppy horns and a fun, shouted chorus. But the song detours into a lovely midsection that’s as far from bluebeat as one can get – it’s singer/songwriter-ish, even – before launching back into an exuberant yakety-sax solo. Loads of fun, this one. The flip “I’m Jes’ Sayin’” has a relaxed, jazzy vibe with some soulful vocals backed by some lovely, creamy oohs. As the song unfolds, it’s reminiscent of Pete Yorn‘s work circa Nightcrawler. This song could easily be the work of a different band, but since it’s not, I’m left to think that Berlin has an impressively wide stylistic palette.

Smash Fashion – “Blame It On the Brandy” b/w “Marionette”
Calling to mind the fun, sleazy and swaggering era that brought us Sweet, Alice Cooper and Suzi Quatro, “Blame it On the Brandy” makes no concessions to modernity: it’s timeless in its approach. Handclaps, a straightforward earworm riff (albeit one that owes more than a little to “Bony Maronie”) and plenty of power chords all come together to remind you that – Gary Glitter be damned – glam rock was a helluva lot of mindless fun. Some dual lead guitar work on the outro is a not-so-subtle hat-tip to Thin Lizzy. The flip, “Marionette” is every bit as good, sounding as it does like a lost prime-era Elton John track without the piano. Some Queen-like guitar heroics are icing on this glammy cake. Woo-hoo indeed. Full album, please…stat.

Dr. Manhattan – “Hot Sauce” b/w Dormlife – “Weak Sauce”
A lo-fi vibe and a slightly dorky campfire feel provide the basis for Dr. Manhattan’s song that seems to be mostly about smokin’ that shit. With a musical approach that’s a little bit like Violent Femmes, it’s fun in a rickety-jalopy sort of way. I can’t help picturing these guys in vests and fedoras, smirking their way through this barrelhouse romp, but it’s fun enough for what it is, in a modest sort of way. The flip from Dormlife is much stronger: it features tight’n'lovely vocal harmonies, a jittery stop/start melody, taut drum work, some aggressive acoustic guitar strumming and bursts of rubbery bass. Hard to pin down stylistically, it’s a sort of tuneful rethink of Red Hot Chili Peppers. Or something. Something good. Verdict: the “hot” song is relatively weak while the “weak” one is tasty stuff indeed. Clear red vinyl.

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