New Music Review

Jimi Hendrix
Valleys of Neptune
Experience Hendrix/Legacy
CD

If you're anything like me (which is to say that your an aging, somewhat pretentious, overly analytical music snob), then you probably have a different attitude towards classic rock than the average person. You probably grew up with it, embraced it, outgrew it while holding on to some small portion of it, and then coming back to it again at some point. After careful consideration, I've decided that there are a total of five categories that all classic rock acts fall into. Bands are categorized differently by different people, but I think the following covers all of the bases.

Category 1 - Loved it Then/Love it Now. This is the stuff you cut your teeth on and continue to listen to for your whole life. For me, the Stones belong here, as do The Who, The Beatles, The Kinks, Bob Dylan and a handful of others. Pink Floyd and Black Sabbath are on the cusp, if not in; I still *love* both bands, and am not sick of them, per se, but I don't really listen to either voluntarily unless it happens to come on the radio.

Category 2 - Loved it Then/Still Appreciate it Now, but Sick of it. This grouping is for the bands that you adored growing up, but then one day you just woke up and decided they didn't have unlimited replay-ability, and you tire of it. The wrinkle with this category is that you don't really hold anything against the band, and probably would go see them if you had the opportunity. Led Zeppelin is probably the biggest example of a Cat 2 band for me. A lot of people would have them in Category 1, which is fine, but the list of Zeppelin songs that don't get turned off when they come on my car stereo is a very short one. But if they reformed and did a full tour, I would be all over it. I still think they're a fabulous band, I just got sick of hearing it constantly. The Doors are another band that I would classify as Cat 2. Cream probably belongs here for me as well. You would probably find a lot of less celebrated bands like Bad Company here. Again, this will vary by person, but I think you will find a lot of commonality.

Category 3 - Didn't Care for it Then/Dig it Now. This is probably more applicable to college rock than classic rock, but these are the bands you ignored or dismissed the first time around, and then you later realize you like or possibly even love them. For me, I would put The Faces here, because they didn't get much radio play growing up, and I didn't discover them until later. I guess The J. Geils Band belongs here too. I thought they were okay growing up, but I knew them as the top-40 band who did "Centerfold" (which is a fine song, to be fair), and didn't realize they were basically the greatest bar band of all time until much later. Steely Dan is a band who would fall into this category for a lot of people, though not me. I never cared for them.

Category 4 - Liked or Loved it Then/Ashamed to Admit it Now. Ah, the days of misspent youth. I will probably get drummed out of the amateur music critic's union for this, but I really loved The Grateful Dead at one point. I owned multiple Yes albums. I thought that Rush's 2112 was a masterpiece. I believe I've purchased the first Boston album on every format, excepting 8 Track, at least once. Everybody has these, and it's truly one of the things that makes each of us an individual. I think bands like Kansas, Styx, Foreigner, Journey, Jethro Tull, and Aerosmith are what wind up here for most people. Unfortunately, AOR radio still plays the shit out of this stuff, and there's no escaping it. The key to Cat 4 is that at least there is some nostalgic value to most of the bands in it. You may not like the music anymore, but it doesn't make you want to stab yourself in the ear drums with a steak knife. It may take you back to a place in time that you remember fondly, or at least you can laugh about how dreadful your musical taste was when you were younger.

Category 5 - Hated it Then/Hate it Now. Ah, the dreaded Cat 5. This is the music that just flat out sucks, and you hated it from the first time you heard it. Like all the other categories, this varies from person to person, but I think you'll see a lot of the same bands wind up on many people's shit-lists. For me, I think the artists who belong here are REO Speedwagon, Fleetwood Mac, Jackson Browne and Elton John. This category by itself probably merits a 2,000 word piece. I'd love to have some input about others' opinions about which bands belong in this cellar.

In my own estimation, Jimi Hendrix is probably a Category 2 artist, though that shouldn't be held against him. Are You Experienced, Electric Ladyland and Axis Bold as Love are all pretty heavy hitters that stand the test of time. What they don't withstand, unfortunately, is ubiquity. Classic rock radio stations ruined Hendrix for me, and the fact that he only turned out three studio albums is a big reason why. If he would have lived longer, and put out more material, perhaps it would have been more spread out (if the Stones had only released Exile, Sticky Fingers and Let it Bleed, I might have gotten sick of all that - okay, maybe not). For the last 15 or so years of my life, the only Hendrix I've ever been able to listen to is the Band of Gypsies stuff, because that never go airplay. At least that's how it's been until now.

Valleys of Neptune is by no means a complete album; it's just a bunch of stuff that's gone unreleased up until this point. Even still, a lot of it's not a huge departure from things you've heard before. There are alternate versions of Hendrix staples "Stone Free", "Fire" and "Red House", as well as an instrumental version of Cream's "Sunshine of Your Love", of which I've heard multiple live versions Jimi played over the years. If you take those out of the equation, then that leaves a total of eight songs that you can't possibly be sick of yet, and I think that's pretty decent.

The thing I like best about this album is that it's split up about evenly between recordings he made with The Experience (Mitch Mitchell and Noel Redding) and Band of Gypsies (Buddy Miles and Billy Cox). Those are two very different animals, and I really came to enjoy the subtleties associated with each of them. The Experience has more of a straight-forward Rock n Roll feel to it, whereas Band of Gypsies is more free-form and experimental. Because of this split, I think I will come to enjoy this release more than I would an entire album worth of material with either band serving as the accompaniment.

The reason why many consider Jimi Hendrix to be the greatest guitar player of all time is because he probably was. Even if you don't agree with that statement, there's no way you could logically put him outside of the top 5, especially considering the era in which he came up. The reason why you're probably sick of his music is because he died too young, and his catalog is small. This is a welcome addition to it, and should at least be a nice refresher course in how much you enjoyed it when you first discovered rock music. If nothing else, it'll serve as yet another reminder of what might have been.

New Music Review

Ted Leo and the Pharmacists
The Brutalist Bricks
Matador Records
CD

I've spent the last week and a half or so listening to the latest Ted Leo effort, The Brutalist Bricks, amazed at how consistent Ted Leo is. I spent roughly the first half of my life obsessed with sports, so I've been trying to recall an athlete to whom I can make a parallel with ol' Teddy. The real "lunch pail" kind of guys. These guys are not super-stars, but they're the reliable players who you know will deliver when you need them to, even if it's done with little fanfare. Joe Dumars was the first player who came to mind. I grew up watching him let guys like Isiah Thomas have the spotlight, even though he was just as instrumental as Zeke in the Pistons back-to-back championships '89 and '90. Alan Trammell is another one: the Tigers' silent leader who kept his mouth shut and just showed up for work every day, earning the '84 World Series MVP award in the process. These were the first guys I could think of, having grown up as a fan of the Detroit teams, but every small to mid-market city had these guys. The unsung local hero who doesn't get the press. While I was racking my brain trying to think of a better example of these critical role players, I realized that I just couldn't come up with one to make a proper analogy. And then it dawned on me: I realized that it was because Ted Leo has so much fucking style, that he really IS a superstar. He just happens to be one in a role player's clothing.

The Brutalist Bricks is another enjoyable effort from Leo. It leads off with the infectious opener "The Mighty Sparrow", it closes with the hook-heavy arena-style rocker "Last Days" and everything in between will keep your full attention. This is classic Ted Leo here; he sticks to the things he's good at (angry-but-somehow-extremely-melodic-punk-influenced-pop if I were forced to label it), but he he switches it up enough that it just doesn't get old. He actually covers a tons of bases on this record. His punk roots shines through on the whole album, particularly on tracks such as "The Stick", "Where Was My Brain?", and "Gimme the Wire", and his folk influences sparkle particularly well on a pair of songs: "Even Heroes Have to Die", and the fabulous "Bottled in Cork". Lyrically, he's the same smart-ass he's always been, but a little older, a little wiser, and a little more clever.

This album, like his previous effort Living with the Living, seems to have more of a political bent to it than his earlier work (which is to say that it has 5 or 6 politically charged tracks instead of 1 or 2), but it seems so natural coming from his angry-young-man-approaching-middle-age persona that I don't see how even the most politically conservative indie rock fans could find it irksome. No, Ted has really given us a gem here. I think this is his best effort since 2003's Hearts of Oak. That's the only possible explanation for the fact that I just cannot stop listening to this thing.

Sure, Ted Leo is doing the same thing he's always done. His songs are predominantly I-IV-IV chord progressions with catchy hooks. That's a pretty standard formula employed by nearly every rocker since the 50's. But when Ted Leo puts his own spin on that tried and true formula is when he differentiates himself from the pack. This is why we give a shit about him now, and will continue to do so. Ted Leo is not an everyman like I originally though. He is a superstar. The problem is that not everybody knows that yet. Shit, maybe he doesn't even know it, but that doesn't make it untrue. He's had the game of a first ballot hall-of-famer since he started playing; he just doesn't get the media attention because indie-labels, even the prominent ones with decent distribution like Matador, are a far cry from Rock n' Roll's version of playing for the Yankees.

New Music Review

Strange Boys
Be Brave
In the Red Records
CD

The new release from Austin garage rockers The Strange Boys is something I've been anxious about hearing for quite some time. I've been looking forward to it with a bizarre mix of optimism and skepticism. You may recall this post in November, in which I detailed their curious lineup changes. Well now, the wait is over. Be Brave was released on CD on 3/2, and is slated for LP release on 3/16. I was tempted to hold off purchasing it until the record came out, but I just couldn't wait that long, so I went ahead and ahead and picked it up. And the initial verdict on the follow-up to the Strange Boys amazing debut ...and Girls Club? Well, to be honest, I was kind of disappointed.

But let's elaborate from there, shall we? Disappointment probably isn't a fair word to use. For one, nearly anything would seem disappointing in comparison to the Strange Boys first album. It's also worth pointing out that this one sounded a lot better on subsequent listenings. Overall, I guess it just wasn't what I was expecting. It sounds a lot more subdued than their debut, and that may have something to do with the fact that they no longer have their original drummer, Matt Hammer, who was a first class basher. There's nothing wrong with a mellow feel. In fact, there are a few fantastic tracks on this release. The titular track stands out the most. It's quite possibly the song of 2010 to this point. It's got a classic Strange Boys groove, and a saxophone solo by new band member Jenna Thornhill deWitt (ex-Mika Miko). Other highlights of the album include the opening track "I See" and "Night Might", both of which serve as reminders of why Strange Boys have been one of my favorite bands since the first time I heard them.

As for the songs that don't do all that much for me, I think I might be holding the band to an unfair standard. In some instances, it seems as though singer Ryan Sambol might be trying to bite off more than he can chew as a songwriter. Sometimes he makes attempts at being very poetic. Sometimes he succeeds, other times he doesn't. Even so, the songs that seem to have questionable lyrics, "Laugh at Sex, not Her" and "Da Da" are the first ones that come to mind, the musicianship is so much greater than other bands of the Garage genre that it doesn't really matter. I don't want to blast Sambol for taking chances.

All things considered, this is a pretty damn solid effort. There are a few great tracks, and a few not so great tracks, and all the stuff in the middle is pretty decent. Strange Boys...and Girls Club was my choice as the best album of 2009. Be Brave probably won't be my favorite of 2010, but that doesn't mean there's anything wrong with it, per se. It just doesn't have as many standout tracks as the first one. It bears repeating that most records by most bands don't have as many standout tracks as that one did. So yeah, maybe I am a little disappointed by this record. But the real point that needs to be made here is the fact that I care enough about this band to be disappointed in the first place. This is a good record by a great band and you should buy it.

New Music Review

Lucero
1372 Overton Park
Universal Records
CD










When I call a band, or anything else for that matter, a one-trick pony, a lot of people are quick to assume that I mean it in a disparaging way. I actually think that in most instances, nothing could be farther from the truth. As a matter of fact, I think being a one trick pony can be a fabulous thing, provided the artist in question is really good at whatever that trick happens to be. You can't be any more one-dimensional than the Ramones were, and they will remain one of my favorite bands until the very end. Memphis alt-country-indie-americana-whatever-else-you-want-to-call-them-rockers Lucero are a one trick pony. And while I've never been that big of a fan, I always thought they were pretty decent and appreciated their output. It was never the most original sounding thing that I'd ever heard, but Ben Nichols has a really cool, gruff sounding voice, and the songs were edgy-sounding but still well crafted. I will forever call bullshit on Nichols' insistence that he had never heard Uncle Tupelo when Lucero started playing, but I may be taking that a little too personally because Tupelo is one of my favorite bands. Regardless, I still thought Lucero was pretty decent in their own right, and I was curious to hear what the major label debut would sound like. Unfortunately for Nichols and crew, on 1372 Overton Park, they sound more like an aging hooker turning a trick, than a show pony performing one.

When I first listened to this album, I couldn't put my finger on exactly where it failed. This was probably because it fails nearly everywhere, and I only have 10 digits. The songs are stale and unimaginative; the lyrics are tired and unimaginative, the arrangements are boring and unimaginative. Are you sensing a theme here? There is nothing on here that hasn't been done before, and rarely have I heard it executed this poorly. The entire effort reeks of a cologne I would call 'trying too hard'. I was taken aback by how bad it was, but then I discovered this little nugget of information about the producer, Ted Hutt: He was an original member of Flogging Molly. Then it all started to make sense. If you want to create a drab record that lacks imagination, who better to hire to record it than a band mate of a guy who made a living out of ripping off The Pogues, and then had the audacity to deny that he was influenced by them?

The production on this record is what stands out as the worst thing about it; Hutt did a miserable job. The bands greatest asset, Nichol's voice, sounds too nice and polished and completely goes to waste. Hutt tries to make the overall sound too big and too pretty, and I don't know why any reasonable person would have thought this was a good idea. If anything, it exposes the band's flaws as musicians. Several songs feature horn arrangements that sound completely out of place and artificial. Sure, Lucero is from Memphis, and that probably means listening to Stax stuff played a big role in their musical upbringing. That doesn't mean they should attempt to emulate it. All it does for this record is further take away any edge the band's sound used to have, rendering it completely dull. There is not one song on this album that I care to hear again, and if a different approach had been taken to its recording, it could have been a completely different story. Unfortunately, since this is the band's major label debut and they seem to be getting a push from Universal, it will probably sell fairly well, and they will continue to go in this direction. I remember something similar happening with Drive By Truckers; they were a great band, and then overnight they got really boring and started playing shows packed with dickhead frat boys. Now they've been at that point for so long that I almost forgot how much I liked them the first time I heard Pizza Deliverance. There's still time for Lucero to right the ship; unfortunately, I think they're going to wind up lost at sea.

If there is one positive to take from this album, it's that Ted Hutt could probably introduce Ben Nichols to his former bandmate, Dave King. And then Nichols could tell King about how he's not influenced by Uncle Tupelo, and King can tell Nichols about how he's not influenced by The Pogues, and they're probably the only two people in the world who would actually believe each other. They could be BFFs or perhaps soul mates. In fact, the thought of it is starting to conjure up images of Jon Lovitz and Tom Hanks on SNL in the pathological liars sketches.

Yeah, Lucero is one trick pony. The real bummer is that after listening to 1372 Overton Park, you don't get a picture of how good they can actually be at that trick under the right set of circumstances.

New Music Review

The Avett Brothers
I and Love and You
American Recordings
Double LP









I was very excited on September 29th, when I picked up the new Avett Brothers release, I and Love and You. With the building anticipation, it surely looked like the right band hooking up with the right producer (Rick Rubin) at exactly the right time. To say that indie rock is dominated by folk, or Americana or whatever you want to call it, is an overstatement, but the genre certainly has a high profile these days. It wasn't always that way. Sub Pop Records made their name by putting out nearly all of the seminal Grunge records in the late 80's and early 90's. As of now, there are a few exceptions, such as Pissed Jeans and the Gutter Twins, but for the most part the label has sold it's rock and roll soul to put out limp folksy recordings by bands such as Blitzen Trapper, Fruit Bats, and the shittiest band to ever get popular - Band of Horses.

Am I mad at Sub Pop about this? Of course not. Who can blame them? They found a niche and a bunch of dumbass American consumers. It's damned hard running an indie label (although Warner Bros. now owns a substantial stake) and you can't fault them for finding a way to sell records. In the immortal words of H.L. Mencken: "Nobody ever went broke underestimating the taste of the American public."

Whenever something like this happens, when a typically tame musical genre becomes popular, there are certain advantages. I can think of two of them off the top of my head. The first is that it tends to start a revolution. Punk rock was a revolt against prog rock and arena rock. Grunge was a revolt against the hair bands. The other advantage is that it paves the way for the bands of the genre that are actually good at writing songs and playing the music. The Avett Brothers to be one of the few bright stars of this genre today.

The first thing about I and Love and You that stands out to me is the production. Rick Rubin is a tremendous producer, especially when working with artists like this, and this record is no exception. The sound on it is impeccable. When this album needs to sound raw, it sounds raw. When it needs to sound big, it sounds big. When it needs to sound pretty, it sounds pretty. Kudos to Rubin for another job well done.

The second thing about this record that stands out are the songs, and make no mistake, there are some damn good ones. The titular track is a beautiful piano-driven ballad that should absolutely become a hit. The other highlights include the catchy "And it Spread", and another piano-driven number, this time upbeat, "It Goes On and On". There are two fabulous Violent Femmes-ish rockers on here: "Slight Figure of Speech" and "Kick Drum Heart", both of which contain power-pop hooks that would make the fellows from The Nerves stand up and applaud. The band is extraordinarily tight, the melodies sweet, and the harmonies are dead on. The brothers also display a knack for being clever lyricists on this record, most notably on the song "Tin Man".

The third thing about I and Love and You that stands out, unfortunately, is that I don't really think it's going to stand out enough to make a splash. The songs are good, and the sound is good, but after listening to it, I walk away wondering why it wasn't better. It may be that the filler songs are unremarkable, or too similar to the better songs. I definitely don't feel like there are enough rockers, but that's a matter of personal preference, and I say that about almost everything. Don't get me wrong, there will be hit songs on this record, it will bring new fans to the band, and they will play bigger shows to larger crowds. But I don't foresee this being the springboard to (relative) superstardom that I thought it might.

I and Love and You is a very good record, and a step in the right direction. My hope is that they keep at it with Rick Rubin behind the boards, and that the next one is a excellent record. I look forward to seeing how the live arrangements of these songs work. While this album didn't meet my significant hopes for it, The Avett Brothers are definitely a band on the way up.

New Music Review

Paul Westerberg
PW & The Ghost Gloves Cat Wing Joy Boys
Digital Download EP










Back in July of 2008, Paul Westerberg surprised and excited his longtime fans by coming out with download-only album (or song, depending on your perspective) called 49:00 of your life. In my opinion, it was excellent, although a bit off the beaten path. If nothing else, it gave lots of hope to us die-hards that there would be more new material coming. And for a minute, there was. He released a companion piece called "5:05" to supplement 49:00, and then sporadically released a couple songs here and there for the duration of the year, including three songs released right around Christmas. This was the first real burst of creativity we had seen out of Paul since he badly injured his fretting hand in late 2006. We were optimistic that there would be more stuff on the horizons; albums (digital download or otherwise), shows, tv appearances, whatever.

We got nothing. There has been no news on the Westerberg front in all of 2009. Until now. Finally.

When I got wind that Westerberg had released a download-only EP through Amazon at the low, low price of $3.89, I immediately purchased it. PW & the Ghost Glove Cat Wing Joy Boys is a six song EP that most fans would probably describe as something that sounds a lot like the stuff he's released under the moniker of Grandpaboy. It's pretty lo-fi, rough, raw, and as usual, it's rather good. All six songs on this release are worth listening to. The best song on it, "Drop them Gloves" is a classic Stones/Faces-style blues rocker, and Paul has always been able to do that better than most. The worst song on it is the piano-driven "Love on the Wing", and even when that starts to get boring, the lyrics are too clever to make you want to hit the skip button. The other four songs are somewhere in between; mostly a cross between the later Grandpaboy sounds of Dead Man Shake and some of the better stuff of of Folker. I'm really glad to be in possession of a new Westerberg release. It's about fuckin' time.

One could only hope that Paul starts working on a new album soon and then go on tour to support it. One could also hope that this album would be released through conventional methods. Furthermore, one could really hope that Paul hires a band to back him in the studio, or at the very least hire a real drummer, because playing the drums is something that Paul does not do well, and you can generally count on that being the downside of these DIY basement recordings he puts out. One could hope. If that's not in the cards, I'll take all the stuff like this I can get. Ultimately, however, this just leaves me wanting more and wondering what if...

New Music Review

The Avett Brothers
"Slight Figure of Speech" b/w "More of You
7" Single
American Recordings









This has been a huge week for music releases, and it's going to take me a few days to really absorb everything. I've been on the go quite a bit lately, so I'm fortunate that this week's stuff isn't all vinyl, or it would take me forever to get caught up. We've already covered the new Kris Kristofferson release, and the reason why I was able to get to that one first was because it's on CD, and I can listen to it at work or in the car. If Criminal had stocked the vinyl, there's no way I would have it finished. I downloaded the new download-only Paul Westerberg EP from Amazon, but I haven't fully absorbed it yet (I definitely love it, though). Hopefully I can have that sorted out by tomorrow.

The thing I really can't wait to do this week, however, is to put the new Avett Brothers 2-disc, 180 gram vinyl album I and Love and You on my turntable and give it a spin. I'm hell bent on doing this all in one sitting, and not one side at a time. Unfortunately for me, I haven't had that kind of time this week. Fortunately for me, when I purchased this double long player at Criminal on Tuesday, they also had a limited edition 7" for sale featuring "Slight Figure of Speech" from the record, and a non-album b-side called "More of You". I have been able to listen to this, and all it's doing is making me even antsier to listen to the LP.

I've heard two cuts from the LP on the radio over the last six weeks or so. One of them is the title track, and I can't recall the name of the other off the top of my head. They were both very nice, melodic tunes immaculately produced by Rick Rubin that prominently displayed their folksy musical heritage. That's all well and good, but I was terribly of afraid that the new release would perhaps turn its back on the other half of the Avetts roots, which is knee deep in punk rock. After listening to this 7", I fear this no more.

When they're at their best, the Avetts will make anyone turn his/her head. Their slower and softer numbers are filled with tight musicianship, extraordinarily catchy pop hooks, and structure that requires an impressive degree of musical literacy to compose. Their harder edged songs combine the best elements of No Depression-era Uncle Tupelo, and the first Violent Femmes album. These are all things that separate the Avetts from the AMERICAN'TA acts polluting the airwaves today (read: just about all of the limp-dick folk acts on Sub Pop).

"Slight Figure of Speech" sounds very much like the first songs I ever heard from this band that got my attention. It's upbeat, it's catchy and pleasing to the senses. At the same time, it's played hard and fast and aggressive, albeit in an acoustic guitar/upright bass kind of way. "More of You" is a slower number, and I defy you to listen to it three or four times and not have it stuck in your head for the rest of the day. If the reason why this song didn't make the final cut for I and Love and You is because it wasn't good enough, then let's just say I can't wait to hear the rest of it.

I'm at the point where I just cannot wait to hear this LP. The Avett Brothers seem to be a band on the verge of a major breakthrough, and Rick Rubin was undoubtedly the right producer to put them in such a position. I'd be failing if I didn't mention that we're at a point where we desperately need it. With stale folk-influenced bands from the Pacific Northwest like Fruit Bats, Blitzen Trapper, and especially Band of Horses increasing in popularity, the average consumers of American indie-rock have turned into mindless sheep. Sheep that apparently favor music that has no heart, no soul, no brains, and sure as shit doesn't have any balls.

If this single is any indicator, the Avett Brothers are still making music with balls. And not a moment too soon. This may be a sorely needed heart transplant for the dying musical genre that is Americana. If nothing else, it'll at least increase the amount of testosterone in the room and prove that you don't have to be a flailing little pussy to play folk music.

New Music Review

Kris Kristofferson

Closer to the Bone
New West Records

CD (Deluxe Edition)

It was only a couple weeks ago that I got wind of a new Kris Kristofferson album. As a matter of fact, I was completely oblivious to the fact the he put out an album called This Old Road in 2006. To be perfectly honest, I hadn't really given much thought to the man in quite some time. I thought of him as a legendary singer-songwriter who was essentially retired, but still acts in movies sometimes. That changed one afternoon when I was listening to WMLB on my ride home. I heard a song that for the first time in a while made me wonder: "this is great; what the fuck is it?" I was rather surprised to hear that it was new material from Mr. Kristofferson. Ever since that moment, I had been anxiously awaiting this release until yesterday afternoon, when I was finally able to pick it up.

And it didn't disappoint.

Closer to the Bone is, in many ways, a tremendous piece of work by an old master of his craft. Kris Kristofferson is one of the most prolific songwriters of all time, and he's only released new material sporadically for the last couple of decades. I don't know if this has been because he's lacked inspiration, if he felt a desire to self-edit, or he was just too busy making Blade movies. He hasn't made anything this good in quite a long time.

Ever since Rick Rubin struck gold with Johnny Cash in the 90's, it seems like every producer out there has been trying to do a stripped down record with an aging Country star. It's a classic example of throwing a bunch of stuff at the wall to see what sticks. Don Was isn't going to see anywhere near the record sales or critical acclaim that Rubin had with the man in black, but when this year is in the books, he may have been the man behind the board for the best album of 2009. He made one that sticks to the wall, and he played the bass on it, to boot.

Closer to the Bone opens with a titular track, and it's one of the best cuts on the disc. It features backing vocals by Stephen Bruton, longtime Kristofferson guitarist who passed away not long after recording finished, and multiple media outlets mistook it for an uncredited Bob Dylan. "Closer to the Bone" does a great job of setting the tone for the album that bears its name. It's raw, it's personal, it's musically minimalistic, and lyrically it's better than 99 per cent of recording artists could ever dream of being.

This record contains songs about love ("From Here to Forever", "The Wonder", "Starlight and Stone), songs about loss ("Hall of Angels", "Love Don't Live Here Anymore"), songs about friends ("Good Morning John", "Let the Walls Come Down") and a very well written song about Sinead O'Connor ("Sister Sinead") of all people. My favorite on this record is "Tell Me One More Time"; a bluesy number with a hint of gospel influence to it and the best lyrics on the whole album:

Girl I guess I've been forgiven

I've acquired a taste for living

Just when I was close to giving up the ghost

That pretty much sums the whole record up. In many ways, this is an album about growing old, written by a man who's growing old. The only downside to this record, if it has one at all, is that there is only so much you can do with a 73 year old man's voice. Maybe the music and the melodies are simple because they needed to be. Whether or not that was the case, it seems to work just fine on this record, at least for my tastes.

Kris Kristofferson proved on this record that he's still better than most as a songwriter. And he may not have a youthful set of vocal pipes anymore, but he can still sing well enough to get the job done; that's probably because, unlike most singer-songwriters, he actually has something significant to say. If he wants to call it quits and never put anything else out, I would understand and respect that. But Closer to the Bone is definitely a record that has left me wanting more, and moments like that are hard to come by these days. I think we need all of the Kristofferson we can get, and we need it in the form of new albums of original material, not Blade sequels.

P.S. - I would highly recommend the Deluxe Edition of this CD, if you're able to get your hands on it. It comes with a bonus disc of a live concert from Dublin that occurred in 2008. It has a great rendition of "Sunday Mornin' Comin Down".

New Music Review

Manic Street Preachers
Journal for Plague Lovers
Columbia Records
MP3 Album download









When I got up this morning, I decided that come hell or high water, I was going to purchase some new music this afternoon, listen to it, and then write about it tonight. Being that it's Tuesday, I headed over to Criminal Records on my lunch hour to see what they had available. I looked at the list of today's releases, and the only thing that really piqued my interest was the latest release by The Dynamites. Alas, Criminal had yet to receive that particular shipment, so that was not meant to be. I perused their selection of newer vinyl and decided that Dinosaur Jr.'s latest effort wasn't new enough, and that Yo La Tengo's new one, although still pretty new at one week old, would probably bore the shit out of me. Although the prospect of giving them a shitty review was fairly enticing, the fact that it would have cost me roughly 20 bucks for an LP I would never listen to again was the dealbreaker. I left Criminal Records empty-handed this afternoon, and let me tell you that does not happen very often.

I got back to the office and decided that I was still going to listen to some new music today and write about it later this evening. I got on Amazon, and started looking at their list of MP3 albums that went on sale today. Digital downloads really aren't my bag, but I was a man on a mission, so I wasn't about to let medium preference dissuade me. There was very little that struck my fancy, but I did see that the latest album by Manic Street Preachers, Journal for Plague Lovers, was now on sale. My uncle Bob (from the U.K.) was the first person to turn me on to these guys; that would have been around 1992, if memory serves. If you're not familiar with this band, it's another one of those situations that eerily mirrors part of the plotline from the film Eddie and the Cruisers. Basically, the guitar player and primary lyricist for the Preachers, Richey Edwards, mysteriously vanished on February 1, 1995 and never resurfaced. He was declared 'presumed deceased' late last year. The reason why you probably haven't heard about this before is because these guys are from Wales, thus nobody in the U.S. gives a shit.

I read a brief description of the album and saw that this album consisted entirely of songs built around lyrics that Edwards had given to bassist Nicky Wire shortly before his disappearance. That sounded interesting enough, so I went ahead and pulled the trigger. Shortly after doing so, I realized that the album was actually released in May, and it was the digital version that saw it's release today.

Goddammit.

Okay, I don't care if it's brand new or not, I'm still reviewing it tonight.

Though I've never considered myself that big of a fan, I've always had some appreciation for Manic Street Preachers. The story is fascinating, and a lot of the music is good. They definitely sound like guys who all grew up listening to Slade, and I can dig that. The lyrics were always good, in particular the songs written by Edwards. Though never achieving much mainstream success, they did receive acclaim from many critics, and established something of a cult following.

Journal for Plague Lovers is a decent album. Primarily produced (or recorded, rather) by Steve Albini, it's starts off very strong with three good rockers: "Peeled Apples", "Jackie Collins Existential Question Time" and "Me and Stephen Hawking". This is classic Preachers, lots of crunchy hooks that remind me of Stiff Little Fingers, and really fucking bizarre lyrics. Unfortunately, it falls kind of flat after that. There are some boring ballads, namely "This Joke Sport Severed" and the hyper-strange "Facing Page: Top Left". James Dean Bradfield is an excellent hard rock singer, but his unmistakably Welsh accent doesn't lend itself very well to most ballads. In these instances, he sounds like Vince Neil being jabbed repeatedly with a number 2 pencil.

This record also includes some tracks that employ drum machines and other qualities from Electronic music, just enough that it's worth mentioning, but not enough that you can classify it as Electronica. This isn't new territory for the Preachers, but I never cared for it when they did it before. It works okay on one track, "Marlon J.D.", but it's the heavy part of that song that makes it go, and it probably would have been better without the drum machine. The rest of the album consists mostly of not great, but not offensive filler material, and closes out with the very good "William's Last Words", which sounds awfully like the suicide note of a very poetic man who desperately needed some help.

All in all, this is a pretty solid effort, and kudos to Albini (a guy whose work I have a love/hate relationship with) for doing a great job with the sound on it. It's a must have for fans, and a worthwhile purchase for people that like hard rock, and can't find anything new to listen to. Allmusic.com gave it 4 1/2 stars out of a potential 5. That's too high. Richdork gave it 7.8 out of 10. That is also too high, in my opinion, but I'm not a big believer in numerical rating or alphabetic grading systems for rock and roll records. What's the fucking point? If you're still around 20 years after you reviewed it the first time, you're going to re-review it when the 'anniversary remaster' version comes out, and it's going to get a different score.

I'll sum it up by saying this: it's a pretty good record by a pretty good band. In the pantheon of Cock Rock bands from the U.K., Manic Street Preachers are quite a bit better than Primal Scream, but not nearly as good as The Cult. Make no mistake, these guys are Cock Rock. They were lyrically superior to these bands, for sure, but if getting a political agenda across was the whole point, then playing cock rock was the wrong canvas for that painting. It's a cold harsh reality, but the reality nonetheless. The thought of Bon Scott doing Woody Guthrie is going to give me nightmares. But these guys are still pretty decent.

New Music Review

Son Volt
American Central Dust
Rounder Records
CD
















I never make any excuses or apologies about my affection for Jay Farrar's music. The entire Uncle Tupelo discography, particularly No Depression and Anodyne, and Son Volt's debut album, Trace, are all phenomenal, timeless recordings. Call it Americana, or Alt-Country, or Roots-Rock, or anything you please. Whatever you want to call it, there's one thing you cannot deny: Jay Farrar got in on the ground floor of that shit. Nearly 20 years after Uncle Tupelo's first record, people are still trying to do what Jay was doing.

And in my opinion, nobody has been able to do it half as well.

One big reason for this is Jay's unparalelled vocal stylings. Not only is he a great singer, but he has a defining voice for his genre. He just needs to be singing this kind of music, like Hank Williams needed to be singing Country, Sam Cooke needed to be singing soul, and Muddy Waters needed to be singing the blues. No matter what's coming out of his mouth, the natural desperation in Farrar's voice conjures up imagery of the great depression, the dust bowl, or any rural tragedy you can think of. I sometimes wonder if the reason why Wilco decided to ditch Alt-Country in favor of a more experimental pop sound was because Jeff Tweedy knew he could never do this better than Jay. Obviously, Jeff found his niche, and he's much bigger than Farrar will ever be, but I sometimes wonder. Trace blows A.M. out of the water, and none of the rootsy songs on Being There sound as good as any of the early Son Volt stuff.

Unfortunately, such a blessing can sometimes be a curse. Often times, when you do one thing really well, the tendency can be to get complacent. Why take chances on something new when you have a reliable formula that works, and also makes you decent money? American Central Dust is the third Son Volt release since Farrar reformed the band in 2005. The first two are both solid records. But they both sound like attempts to recreate the magic of Trace. And that isn't necessarily a bad thing, but at least for me it makes me less enthusiastic about both them, because I would really rather just listen to Trace than an attempt to rehash it. I don't want to be overly critical about this; Jay has earned a pass from me for his previous greatness, and the live show is still great, so I don't want to imply that any of this is bad. It's just kind of boring. With its latest release, however, it appears that American Central Dust is a great step forward for Son Volt 2.0.

Instead of attempting a big studio sound, American Central Dust has a stripped down feel that makes perfect sense and accentuates the bands strengths. Jay's voice is the dominant instrument on this album, and that's the way it needs to be. The band is tight and tasteful, and each member does a great job with the space allotted to him. Lead guitarist Chris Masterson has a look straight from Look at this Fucking Hipster!, but he sounds like he was born to play country guitar, and although I never thought I would say this, is a better fit for this band than former Backslider Brad Rice was. Andrew DuPlantis (bass guitar) and Dave Bryson (drums) prove to be a dead-on rhythm section, and Mark Spencer chips in on keyboards, lap steel and pedal steel.

Where it hits:

All over the place. "Dynamite" is the leadoff track, and it's classic Farrar with what sounds like an accordion accompaniment. "Cocaine and Ashes" is a piano-driven ballad that sounds like it's probably written from the perspective of Keith Richards, and it's fantastic. "Dust of Daylight" is so catchy and earthy it may as well have been written by Gram Parsons himself. "Pushed too Far" is a slow number about genuine midwestern desperation that John Mellencamp wishes he could have written, and the closing track, "Jukebox of Steel" sounds just like some of the best country numbers from Uncle Tupelo's later years. The best song on this record is "When the Wheels Don't Move", which is percussive, haunting, and crunchy. Farrar sings lyric about lost jobs and lost hope like nobody else can, while a distorted steel guitar plays along. Somehow it sounds like a cross between folk and shoegazer. I know that probably sounds awful, but believe me, it works like a charm.

Where it misses:

There's only one bad song on this effort. The piano and violin driven "Sultana" recalls the tale of the steamboat disaster of the same name. It's bad. I mean really bad. My advice to Jay is to leave songs about maritime disasters to Gordon Lightfoot.


Overall, this is not only a great sounding effort from Son Volt, but it's one that leaves me optimistic about the band's future. I get the feeling that they can deviate from the norm enough to keep it fresh, while still retaining their best qualities and doing what they do best. Well done, Mr. Farrar.

Son Volt plays the Variety Playhouse next Friday, September 11th. I'm going to go and you should too. Hope to see you there.

New Music Review

Vetiver
"Wishing Well" b/w "Pay No Mind"
7" Single
Sub Pop Records









Here's the thing about folky pop music: it's really safe and on its surface kind of hard to screw up. If you're playing in this genre and don't have something to differentiate yourself from the rest of the crowd, you're going to come off like a jerk. Dylan had, and still has for that matter, the lyrical ability of a poet laureate. But he bailed on folk pretty early. His debut album came out in '62, and by the end of '65 he was using blues and roots rock as the canvas for his words. Jay Farrar has a golden voice and can sing whatever he pleases and make it sound authentic. But, I get more excited about Son Volt's harder edged stuff, and when I see him play live I have to admit that I'd probably just prefer it if he did an entire set of Uncle Tupelo rockers. Gordon Lightfoot employed the haunting quality of a 12 string guitar as well as anyone ever has, and his compositions are really complex when stacked up against the rest of the genre. So what about the artists that can't write lyrics like Bob, or sing like Jay, or who have never even heard of the dorian mode?

Vetiver is a San Francisco based group on Sub Pop Records, fronted by singer-songwrite Andy Cabic. This effort was their release for record store day (okay, it's 4 months old, but I haven't heard it before, and you probably haven't either, so I would say it still qualifies as 'new'). The A-side, "Wishing Well", is a very decent song. It's not great, but it's above average. If this is representative of the rest of his work, I'd say Cabic's best asset is the ability to come up with some decent pop hooks. This is a very good thing, unless you want your finished product to sound like Dan Fogelberg. The composition is relatively simple, but by no means is it vanilla. This is also a very good thing, unless you want your finished product to sound like every other asshole out there playing folk music.

"Pay No Mind" is the b-side of this single. To be painfully honest, it's kind of a boring tune. But to find the silver lining of that cloud, even when this band sounds boring they're totally unoffensive. And somehow I think the possession of such a quality is an art form in and of itself. This type of stuff would make a fine soundtrack for cleaning the house or doing your taxes. That's totally fine; not everything is supposed to rock your face off.

Would I buy a full length CD or LP by this band? Probably not. Would I listen to it if someone burned me a copy? Absolutely. Would I go see them play a show in Atlanta if it costs 7 or 8 bucks. Most likely. As I stated early, it's above average. In short, Vetiver is an indie folk-pop band that makes music that sounds pretty good, although it won't blow your mind. Ah, fuck it. Let's just say that it's quite a bit better than Dan Fogelberg and be done with it.

New Music Review

Hank Williams
The Unreleased Recordings
LP
Time Life Records








This past Tuesday, a condensed version of last year's 3 CD anthology of Hank Williams' previously unreleased material was released on one LP, marking the first time that these recordings have been released on vinyl. This record serves as a compilation of the best stuff Hank and the Drifting Cowboys did while recording a weekly show that aired on the radio station WSM in Nashville. The show's sponsor was Mother's Best, a company that made flour, cornmeal and livestock feed. Instead of drawing from his own vast catalog for this show, Hank would cover the songs of other people, or he would take a traditional song and put his always unique twist on it. There are no Hank Williams compositions on this album; every song was written by someone else. But even after one listen, there is one thing that is obvious to anyone with at least one functional ear: When Hank Williams sang a song, it didn't matter whose song it was, it became a Hank Williams song.

I don't know all the details about this period in Hank's life and career, but he's clearly a legend on the decline. This program was aired throughout 1951; whenever Hank was home, he would head to the studio and record a few weeks worth of the show to be aired while he was out on the road. He died on New Years Day of 1953, so he was nearing the end. It would have been around this time that the Grand Ole Opry had given him the boot, and he was relegated to performing in the minor leagues: The Louisiana Hayride. His addiction to morphine and alcohol was worsening, and his marriage was falling apart. Listening to him talk to the show's host, Cousin Louie Buck, you can hear in his speaking voice that he sounded like a beaten down man. He sounds tired and old, even though he was only 27 or 28. But when he sings, it's the same magic as always. This long player includes two songs originally recorded by Roy Acuff: "The Prodigal Son" and "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain", and a version of Scotty Wiseman's "Have I Told You Lately that I Love You". These are three songs that have been covered by numerous artists throughout the years. What is it that all three of these songs have in common? The absolute best version of all three of these songs that you'll ever hear are on this record.

The two best things on this record are both reworked traditional songs: "When the Saints Go Marching In" and "On Top of Old Smokey". Hank's version of 'Saints' is unlike any version of the song I've ever heard. After spending my whole life hearing it performed by every Dixieland jazz band to ever pick up some brass, it's easy to forget that this was originally a folky gospel song. Hank takes this song on with the passion of a fire-and-brimstone preacher, and it's hard to believe this is the same song made most famous by Louis Armstrong. "On Top of Old Smokey" is absolutely brilliant. I'm 34 years old. I have no recollection of this as a pop song. It was a million seller for a group called The Weavers in 1951. I, like most people, remember this song as one of the most popular targets for childish parody songs. When I first think of this song, I think of the parody "On Top of Spaghetti", which I probably found amusing between the ages of 4 and 6. In fact, forget the previous statement 'When I first think of this song', because I don't think about this song. I haven't thought about this song in nearly 30 years. Not until now anyways. I was able to find a clip of this very recording on Youtube. The sound quality isn't all that spectacular, but check this out anyways:



Amazing. I'm convinced that Hank could have probably done a cover of "Ice Ice Baby" and it would have made me want to cry after he was done with it. Sometimes I wonder how anyone was ever this great of a singer. He's truly one of the few that no matter what he sings, you believe it. The pain and sincerity in his voice is something that just cannot be faked. That's Hank Williams. The man was a god.

I strongly recommend this LP. This is some truly unique stuff from a legend that you've probably never heard. I think this one's going to be in the regular rotation for a while around here. Now I'm gonna run. God told me I needed to buy some Mother's Best cornmeal, and I don't want to go against his wishes.