What I'm Listening To 

© 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009 Theodore Gracyk

For a version of this page with graphics, click here 

Devendra Banhart: Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon (XL Recordings 2007)
This project has a mellow, late 1960s feel to it, but with a bit more humor than I associate with blissed-out hippies. "Shabop Shalom" is the song that really got me into Banhart's peculiar groove. Setting aside the actual lyrics, the opening acoustic music and spoken words strongly recall Donovan's hippie anthem, "Atlantis," but then it suddenly goes to a 1950s doo-wop tune (teasingly quoting "Who Wrote the Book of Love," here identified as the Dead Sea Scrolls), but with a crooning lead vocal borrowed from Bing Crosby. Now that I listen again, "Bad Girl" plays around with a similar dynamic. Banhart is a genius at arranging. And who can resist a good samba, or three?
9/2/08

Richard & Linda Thompson: Shoot Out The Lights (Hannibal 1982)
I listened to this album twice while doing some chores and now the chorus of "Wall of Death" keeps playing in my head. Comparing life choices with a series of carnival attractions, it's one of Richard Thompson's signature songs: a seemingly uplifting melody and rhythm set to lyrics that invite us to celebrate life by contemplating death. Which, more obviously, is the theme of "Did She Jump or Was She Pushed?" From the title song's horrific, building anger to the sweet lull of "Just the Motion," it's about as perfect an album can be. I don't care if it's autobiographical (about their marriage collapsing). I'm just thankful they stayed together long enough to produce it.
9/2/08

Tim Buckley: Blue Afternoon (Straight 1969)
When I was a teenager, this music was too subtle for me. It's certainly blue, but stylistically not exactly the blues. Shopping the other day at a "big box" retail store, I was struck by the huge selection of Jeff Buckley and the complete absence of music by his father, Tim. So much for the judgment of posterity. Yet at the same stage of their (brief) careers, both specialized in a moody anguish and an ability to convey intimacy. Of the two, Tim impresses me more than Jeff. This disc is notable for giving a relatively free hand to Lee Underwood, whose restrained, bluesy guitar gives the whole affair a jazzy flavor.
8/11/08

David Bowie: Heroes (RCA 1977)
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that Bowie hasn't made an album as good as this one 
ever again. Well, maybe one, Scary Monsters. What they share in common, besides Bowie, 
is the presence of Robert Fripp on lead guitar. And one is tempted to say that, because Heroes 
has more Fripp, it's better. Some of the instrumentals on this album used to strike me as dull, 
but now I recognize that their surfaces are boring and their backgrounds are mesmerizing. 
Another odd thing is that all the "rock" songs seem to be piano-based, allowing Fripp to soar, 
swoop, and rumble without concern for holding things together. Bowie's voice has seldom been 
used to greater effect. When he goes into a shrill screech, as in the final verse of the title song, 
it pays off.
7/28/08

John Prine: German Afternoons (Oh Boy 1986)
Easy-going in the extreme, I'm pretty sure that the album title refers to hot summer afternoons 
spent doing nothing much, getting pleasantly buzzed on cold beer. Hence the song "Out of Love," 
in which the loss of love is compared to running out of beer. Prine's gentle croak of a voice makes 
his performances sound unrehearsed and spontaneous, yet he has the uncanny ability to sound 
as if he's either laughing or crying (or both), depending on the mood of the song. All of which masks 
the fact that he may well be one of the best songwriters of the past thirty years. Two examples, on 
this album, both heartbreakers: "Speed of the Sound of Loneliness" and "Paradise." Sure, the latter 
is a remake, but with these bluegrass players, a welcome one.
7/21/08

Carlene Carter: Stronger (Eleven Thirty 2008)
I had no clue, back in the 1970s, that Carlene Carter was the grandchild of one of the founders 
of country music, Maybelle Carter, or that her mother was June Carter, wife of Johnny Cash. In 
1978, she was a New Wave singer associated with Nick Lowe and Graham Parker. (I believe she 
may be the model for the singer in the novel/film High Fidelity.) Three decades on, her debt to her 
grandmother and mother is all too obvious. What I love about this record is that it completely 
undercuts the Romantic ideal of baring one's wounds for art. It's thirteen years since her last 
record, and in the meantime everyone close to her has died. Instead of giving us a diary of her 
suffering, she gives us swagger, sweetness, sass. And her nerve: the third track steals the melody 
of the country classic "Long Black Veil."
6/16/08

Jenny Lewis & the Watson Twins: Rabbit Fur Coat (Team Love 2006)
I had no clue that Jenny Lewis was the founder of the country-folk band Rilo Kiley when I heard 
her version of "Handle With Care." Her cover of that Traveling Wilbury's hit was enough to convince 
me to buy the disc, which is wickedly intelligent and tuneful. The press on Lewis emphasizes her 
debt to singers like Patsy Cline and Loretta Lynn, but that doesn't reflect what I hear. Both her 
singing and songwriting borrow more from Bob Dylan and Elvis Costello, in all the best ways. The 
title song, for example, is a shaggy-dog story along the lines of Dylan's "Ballad of Frankie Lee and 
Judas Priest," and she sings on Costello's 2008 album (which compares unfavorably to hers). The 
Watson Twins supply harmonies, in case you were wondering.
6/16/08

Marti Jones: Unsophisticated Time (A&M 1985)
It's been a cold, overcast spring. Fresh green leaves only appeared on the trees a few days ago. 
Today, however, it's blue skies and a feeling of warmth, so I've been playing a record that matches 
the mood of the day. This LP, her solo debut, was the first in a string of superb albums that 
combine her wonderful voice with great songs, cleverly arranged. None of which sold many 
copies. "Talk To Me" is built on a chassis of the Zombies' "Time of the Season," and "The 
Element Within Her" opens with muted keyboards that mix Chopin and Bach before launching 
into a taunting string of "la la la." It's one of the best covers of an Elvis Costello ever recorded, 
and makes me wish she'd done an LP of his songs.
5/14/08

Cat Power: Jukebox (Matador 2008)
Moody, moody cover versions of an intelligent selection of songs. She's not a great singer 
when measured by vocal chops, but she's developed a soulful and bluesy drawl that lets her 
convey both intimacy and passion. Although she doesn't sound much like Billie Holiday, the 
presence of Holiday's "Don't Explain" suggests one source of her style. "New York, New York" 
is the most surprising transformation, its big band swing replaced with laid-back Memphis groove. 
Bob Dylan's "I Believe in You" has a backing track that sounds like the Rolling Stones in 1972, 
and it's followed by her own song, a devotional confession to Dylan, "Song to Bobby." For me, 
the highlight is "Aretha, Sing One For Me," George Jackson's ode to the healing power of music.
5/7/08

Eroica Trio: Ravel: Piano Trio (EMI 1997)
Last night as we drove to a chamber music recital in falling snow, we debated whether we 
were driving in a blizzard or merely in a storm. Officially, there wasn't enough wind to qualify 
as a blizzard. In any case, the reason to travel in bad weather was a performance of Ravel's 
Trio for piano, cello, and violin. The last two movements are among my favorite compositions. 
There's nothing wrong with the first two movements --they're classic, playful Ravel-- but the slow 
third movement utilizes the pianist's left hand to establish a sense of foreboding, and the fourth 
movement ends things animé, that is, with joyous animation. The Eroica Trio highlights George 
Gershwin's obvious debt to this piece by preceding it with his three preludes. 
4/7/08

Van Morrison: Saint Dominic's Preview (Warner Bros 1972)
The album feels like a thrown-together hodge-podge, with a casual blues number ("I Will Be 
"There") and a two-verse song fragment ("Redwood Tree") interspersed with three of his greatest 
songs ("Jackie Wilson Said," "Listen to the Lion," and "Almost Independence Day"). Which is 
why it's so charming, and so utterly typical of Morrison. The R&B material swings, the arrangements 
are compelling--including some very subtle and intelligent use of early synthesizer--and he's in great 
voice. Arguably, the two long tracks ("Lion" and "Independence Day") are his two greatest studio 
performances. And, for me, "Almost Independence Day" reminds me of the time, on Independence 
Day, when it was on the radio as we drove along the San Francisco Bay, lyric synchronized with 
reality.
3/25/08

Various Artists: A Tribute to Joni Mitchell (Nonesuch 2007)
One "tribute" album leads to another. The cover of this one sets the stage: it's a little too reverential, 
as if she were dead and candidate for sainthood. Luckily, a few of the singers understand that the 
goal is not to sound like the object of veneration, but, rather, to acknowledge inspiration. Thus, I 
recommend the approaches taken by Sufjan Stevens and Björk to "A Free Man in Paris" and 
"The Boho Dance," respectively. Stevens opens with a stirring blast of synthesized horns that's 
more vigorous than anything else on the whole album. And Björk is, well, Björk. These are, not 
coincidentally, the two opening tracks. After that, things get a bit too serious, with everyone 
sticking closely to Mitchell's own arrangements. Not that they're bad ones.
3/13/08

Various Artists: Return of the Grievous Angel (Almo 1999))
This album has a subtitle: "a tribute to Gram Parsons." I love Parsons' music with the Byrds and 
then the Flying Burrito Brothers, but his two solo albums have always struck me as something 
of a mixed bag. This project is another in a parade of acts of remembrance by Emmylou Harris, 
his duet partner on the solo albums. She does not, however, steal the show. In fact, her 
harmonizing with Beck on "Sin CIty" is the weakest thing here -- not because of Emmylou, but 
because Beck doesn't have the vocal chops for it. Otherwise, it's musical bliss. Assuming, of 
course, that country rock is your means to bliss. Dare I say that the Mavericks cover of "Hot 
Burrito #1" is the definitive version?  And Evan Dando is an amazing choice for "$1,000 Wedding."
2/15/08

Trees: On the Shore (Columbia 1970; Sony expanded CD 2007) 
Don't ever, ever judge a record by its cover. The cover of the Trees' second album is gorgeous. 
It's the work of the design team Hipgnosis, who did similar great things for Pink Floyd and Led 
Zeppelin. Unfortunately, cover art is the only reason anyone will ever use the terms "Hipgnosis," 
"Pink Floyd" and "Led Zeppelin" together in a sentence. The music is standard British folk-rock 
of the period, with electric guitar juxtaposed against acoustic elements (think of Zeppelin's 
"Stairway to Heaven"). Celia Humphris has a pleasant voice, but the moment she stops singing, 
tedium sets in. Ten minutes of "Sally Free and Easy" is about seven minutes too many. It's now 
available in an even longer version, the opposite of what's needed.
2/12/08

Amy Winehouse: Back to Black (Republic 2006) 
I find more humor in the "Parental Advisory" label on the cover than in the actual songs. I can't 
imagine anyone young enough to need parental advisement who'd want to hear this second-hand 
R&B. But maybe I'm wrong. For the most part, I'm left cold by her obvious debt to Billie Holiday, a 
comparison that reminds me that Holiday always did interesting things with rhythm and melody. 
Take away Winehouse's occasional way with a lyric and the actual music is extremely dull 
(especially the horn charts). The one delight is "Rehab," where the interplay of piano and horns 
keeps me engaged until we get to the sing-a-long of "They try to make me go to rehab, I say no, 
no, no," which is no longer funny now that she's in rehab.
2/2/08

Booker T & the MGs: McLemore Avenue (Stax 1969) 
Ignore how ugly the cover is and you realize that it's another in a long line of parodies of the 
Beatles' Abbey Road cover. Except that this one's special. It was the first, and with good 
reason: Booker T & the MGs, soul band extraordinaire, play the Abbey Road album more or 
less straight through. Note the year of release: they put out this album within months of the 
Beatles' release. It's almost but not quite an instrumental album, with Booker T's organ as the 
lead instrument. There are a few dull passages, but the overall effect is funkier and more playful 
than the Beatles. I've always thought that stretches of the original album were ruined by inane 
lyrics; without them, there's just the pleasure of the musical flow. One regret: they skip "Her 
Majesty."
1/31/08

David Johansen: Live It Up (Blue Sky 1982, Razor & Tie CD 1992)
Between the sloppy but glorious New York Dolls and the campy slop of alter-ego Buster 
Poindexter, David Johansen tried to carve out a career as a standard rock and roll singer. 
Commercially, it went nowhere. Aesthetically, it was guitar-rich, heart-on-your-sleeve arena rock. 
I enjoy it immensely as I sit in my office and fill out boring paperwork. This live set list offers a 
few Dolls songs, the best stuff from his solo debut, and some very well-chosen covers of major 
1960s AM radio hits. In this format, anyone who doesn't know the sources will have trouble telling 
the difference. "Build Me Up Buttercup" and "Bohemian Love Pad" are the fun throwaways. The 
surprise is the weight he gives to "Is This What I Get For Loving You?" -- but it's hard to go wrong 
with a Goffin-King hit. And who can resist "Frenchette"?
1/17/08

Matthew Sweet & Susanna Hoffs: Under the Covers, Vol. 1 (Shout! Factory 2006)
This belongs to that distinct genre of records known as the covers album. Someone "covers" a 
collection of songs they admire. This one is odd. They've selected a great batch of songs from 
the roughly 1965-1971, yet I don't know that I recommend it. Sweet and Hoffs have distinctive, 
recognizable voices. But half the fun of the genre is to hear the music rearranged, and here the 
arrangements slavishly copy the originals, as if they peeled Nico's voice off the Velvet 
Underground's recording of "Sunday Morning" and then overdubbed Hoffs' voice. And the same 
goes for the Who's "The Kids Are Alright," and so on with the rest. The one exception, and thus 
the one treat, is "Who Knows Where the Time Goes," where they devise delightful, original 
harmony parts.
1/11/08

Nick Lowe: At My Age (Yep Roc Records 2007)
I've always resisted compiling a "10-best" list for the year as it ends. But if I did construct one 
for 2007, I'd likely put this album on my list. Lowe had the nerve to call his first solo album 
Jesus of Cool (a title that didn't survive the Atlantic crossing). If anything has become cool, 
it's the music itself. The arrangements favor touches of country music (the piano and guitar 
of the opening track, "A Better Man," the shuffle of "Long Limbed Girl"), but it's all been mixed 
smooth in a blender with the mariachi horns (on "The Club" -- think "Ring of Fire" by Johnny 
Cash) and cool jazz ("Other Side of the Coin"). The songwriting is stellar. Best of all is the 
faked misogyny of "I Trained Her to Love Me," which has the bite of the best Randy Newman 
songs.
1/2/08

The Pogues: Fairytale of New York (1988, CD single 2005)
The composing of Christmas songs seems to be a lost art. This duet between Shane MacGowan 
and Kirsty MacColl is now twenty years old, just old enough to have stood the test of time. 
As the yearning of the opening verse gives way to the exuberant chorus ("the bells were 
ringing out on Christmas day"), someone who doesn't understand English might be forgiven 
for thinking that it's a another saccharine ode to the holiday season. With the way that MacGown 
mangles his words, a lot of Americans can't follow the song. But the bleak lyrics ("you're an old 
slut on junk," he sings to her) reflects the tensions between our hopes and our reality. And then 
there's the homesickness: the boys in the NYPD choir were singing "Galway Bay," indeed. Plus, 
I love the tin whistle.
12/24/07

The Byrds: The Notorious Byrd Brothers (Columbia 1968; expanded digital remaster, 1997)
The blaring brass on the opening track announces that the group intends to mess with our 
expectations. Sure enough, there's not a Bob Dylan song to be found. Instead, a group that 
was in the process of breaking up --notice that the window on the right has a horse where 
founding member David Crosby ought to be-- produced its strongest album by mirroring the 
nation's fragmentation. Some people can't deal with the wild juxtapositions: the Brill Building 
pop of "Goin' Back," the anti-war agony of "Draft Morning," the hippie-dippie sentiments of 
Crosby's "Tribal Gathering." Call it postmodern. Call it psychedelic. But notice the stunning 
guitar solo of "Change is Now" and grant that Roger McGuinn is under-appreciated. With 8 
outtakes, most worth hearing.
12/18/07

Joe Ely: Honky Tonk Masquerade (MCA 1978))
This record was Ely's second album. I never grow tired of its combination of backbeat, accordion, 
and whining steel guitar. When it was released, country music still sounded very different from 
"rock" music. (Unlike today, when most "country" music sounds a lot like recycled rock music.) 
In retrospect, I'm impressed at how Ely exploited the honky tonk tradition to subvert stylistic expectations, making an album that straddles the country and rock categories. There's a Hank 
Williams cover, some Jerry Lee Lewis-style rock and roll ("Fingernails"), and amazing songs 
from Butch Hancock (the title track) and Jimmy Dale Gilmore. It's criminal that the wonderful 
follow-up, Down on the Drag, is out of print.
12/06/07

Bruce Springsteen: Magic (Columbia 2007)
Three years into his professional career, Bob Dylan informed an audience, "It's just Halloween. 
I have my Bob Dylan mask on." Here's an album that sounds as if Springsteen got up one day 
and said, "It's time to put my Bruce Springsteen mask on." Again and again and again, this 
record sounds like it was created by listening to a half dozen earlier Springsteen albums, then 
assembling a set of songs that superficially imitate them. I've played it repeatedly at high volume, 
but after the first three songs, it all feels utterly recycled. Worse, the "magic" of the E Street Band 
isn't the saxophone. It's the rich interplay of keyboards and guitars. Where's Roy Bittan's piano? 
Mostly missing in action.
10/31/07

Terry Reid: Superlungs (Astralwerks 2005)
Recorded in 1968 and 1969 by the man who turned down Jimmy Page's invitation to become 
Led Zeppelin's vocalist (and who then suggested to Page that he hire Robert Plant), these 
tracks are a tantalizing reminder of what Led Zeppelin might have sounded like. But Reid had 
his own power trio (drums, organ, and his own guitar) and had an American tour lined up, so it 
was not to be. Then bad management put his career on hold. But if you can set all that 
baggage aside, this is an extraordinary mixture of British blues, rock, and pop music by the 
singer who was, for good reason, Page's first choice for vocalist. And Reid could write, too: 
"Without Expression," "Silver White Light" and "Rich Kid Blues" keep me playing this disc.
10/08/07

Los Lobos: The Town and The City (Hollywood 2006)
I'm not the first to say that new material from Los Lobos often sounds familiar. You wouldn't 
call them derivative, because what's most familiar in their sound is true of a thousand other bands. 
It's just that they do it all so effortlessly that they sound like "classic rock" even when there's 
no obvious source. This time, peel away the vocals and "Little Things" calls to mind Procul 
Harum's "A Whiter Shade of Pale" (pay attention to the keyboards). The combination of 
percussion and guitar gives "The City" and "No Puedo Mas" the feel of classic Santana (by 
which I mean the early group, not Carlos solo). Overall, this outing has a bluesy, relaxed feel 
that masks the bitter social observation of some of the lyrics. Like the guitar playing, the 
themes are tough and accomplished without calling attention to themselves.
9/14/07

Cassandra Wilson: Blue Light til Dawn (Blue Note 1993)
Except for an interlude of African percussion, none of this rises above the level of a quiet 
murmur. Even the "fast" songs are taken at the tempo of a funeral march. The unifying 
concept is to take "pop" and "rock" songs and to treat them the way that an earlier generation 
of jazz singers treated Broadway show tunes. That is, to treat them as if every word matters. 
From this perspective, a good Joni Mitchell song ("Black Crow") is exactly like a good 
Robert Johnson song ("Come On In My Kitchen"). Her husky voice turns everything into a 
smoldering blues. Best of all are the last two tracks, both of them "pop" songs: Van Morrison's 
"Tupelo Honey" and Ann Peebles' "I Can't Stand the Rain."
8/27/07

Dan Hicks: The Most of Dan Hicks & His Hot Licks (Sony 2001)
This is an expanded version of an LP originally released in 1969 ("Original Recordings"). It's the 
bulk of that delightful album plus seven songs recorded for an aborted follow-up. It kicks off with 
three winners: "How Can I Miss You (When You Won't Go Away)," "Waiting for the 103," and 
"I Scare Myself (Thinking About You)." Notice how the parenthetical clarifications twist the knife. 
There are also two great morality tales, "Canned Music," about how listening to live music will 
improve your love life, and "He Don't Care," about the apathy of drug users. As for the sound, I 
never understood why the music of Django Reinhardt & Stephane Grappelli sounded so natural 
to me the first time I encountered it. It's because I already knew Hicks's music, which apes their 
style (but adds the charming Lickettes on backing vocals).
8/20/07

Billy Strayhorn: Lush Life (Blue Note 2007)
Somehow, this one didn't quite live up to my expectations. Dedicated to showcasing 
Strayhorn's songwriting, and featuring two of my favorite singers (Dianne Reeves and Elvis 
Costello), it comes across as solid yet generic jazz. Don't get me wrong. Pianists Hank Jones 
and Bill Charlap are both splendid in Duke Ellington's seat on the pieces that Strayhorn co-wrote 
with Ellington, and they do a great duet together on "Tonk." Reeves offers a killer version of the 
title track. However, the four tracks dominated by Joe Lovano's tenor sax could be on any of 
Lovano's own albums. With vocals on fewer than half the tracks, the album is dominated by 
improvisations on familiar changes, so much of the time it's nothing particularly Strayhorn-esque. 
I guess I really wanted to purchase Reeves Sings Strayhorn, and got part of it.
8/8/07

Gear Daddies, Let's Go Scare Al (Polydor 1990)
Although all music is in some sense regional, some music never catches on beyond its 
place of origin. In that sense, the Gear Daddies were a regional band. They were huge in 
Minneapolis and on the bar circuit within an easy drive of their home base --they paid homage 
to their fan base with a fabulous country-and-western version of Prince's "Little Red Corvette" 
-- but unless you've heard their ode to driving a Zamboni machine, you might not have heard of 
them. On this, their debut album in a too-short career, they pour their hearts out with ten songs 
about life in small Midwestern towns where men abuse women ("Boys Will Be Boys"), marry 
women and then restrict them to numbing routines ("She's Happy"), and make life miserable 
for any male who dares to be different ("Heavy Metal Boyz!").
7/25/07

Love, Forever Changes (Elektra 1967/Rhino Remaster 2001)
The sound of the "summer of love" in the canyons above Los Angeles. Aside from the bass 
and two electric guitar solos, Love went "unplugged" for its third album. The addition of strings 
and horns has often been described as Baroque, but that's not quite right. Like the Beatles' 
"Eleanor Rigby," it's chamber music, and like that song, gorgeous melodies are the setting 
for bleak meditations on life and death. Listen past the Flamenco touches and wistful melodies. 
Aside from the little girl in the pigtails at the ice cream truck, these songs are about death, 
the specter of war, and social isolation. Then among the bonus tracks we get to hear their 
painful struggle to get it all perfect.
6/25/07

The Zombies, Greatest Hits (DCC 1990)
I guess that these tracks have now been remastered for improved sound, but mid-1960s 
"British Invasion" recordings were mixed for radio, not high-fidelity. The Zombies were 
relatively short-lived, and the cover of this collection makes it perfectly clear why you're 
buying it. You want " She's Not There" (a giddy rush that's reminiscent of the Beatles at 
their mop-top best), "Tell Her No" (more Rolling Stones than Beatles in sound and attitude), 
and "Time of the Season." Comparable only to some of Van Morrison's work with Them, 
"Time of the Season" has both a jazzy-yet-soulful vibe and an intriguing arrangement of 
voices and instruments. Colin Blunstone's vocals are a constant delight, so there's much 
more here than the three hit songs.
6/11/07

Arthur Rubinstein, Chopin: 19 Nocturnes (RCA 2000)
Recorded in the 1960s, these performances of the bulk of Chopin's nocturnes are among my 
three or four favorite recordings of solo piano music. The singing quality of the melodies is 
highlighted by Rubinstein's measured pacing; he emphasizes their melodic quality and lets 
the emotional expression take care of itself. The over-arching mood of reflective tranquility 
makes it the perfect accompaniment for reading philosophy. The music has a sense of forward 
motion and logical inevitability that supports heavy reading. Then, when I pause and try to clear 
my head in the middle of a piece of dense, turgid prose, the musical lines have a pristine clarity 
that never fails to revive my mind.
6/11/07

Pretenders, Sire 1980 (Expanded remaster: Sire/Rhino 2006)
In 1980, the British magazine Melody Maker named this album one of its ten-best of the year. 
In retrospect, it blows away many of the other "winners" (Adam & the Ants, Madness, the 
Clash's Sandinista). It's also worth noting that it's the only album on the list with a female 
vocalist. A surprise is in store for anyone who only knows their big American hit, "Brass in Pocket" 
and its catchy chorus ("I'm special"). That song and the other two radio-friendly tracks are shoved 
to the second half of the album, after six swaggering slabs of foul-mouthed aggression. Okay, one 
of the six is an instrumental, but it still feels foul-mouthed. Then track seven is one of the sweetest 
gender-benders in rock and roll: the euphoric "Stop Your Sobbing."
5/21/07

John Fahey, The Transfiguration of Blind Joe Death, Takoma 1965
Let's start with the philosophical in-joke: the title makes me think of Arthur Danto. Then there's 
the subjective association: the second piece is called "Orinda-Moraga," which is a place in 
California. I used to live there, and the rolling sound of this sunny instrumental is a lovely 
evocation of rolling hills and oak trees. Putting that aside, these 15 acoustic instrumental 
performances feature a stellar guitarist at the top of his game. The opening is deceptive, with 
a loose interplay of guitar and banjo that sounds like two old codgers playing on the front porch. 
Later on, when the dog starts to bark, you suspect that a young codger really is playing on the 
his front porch.
5/17/07

Lucinda Williams, West, Lost Highway 2007
On the one hand, I'm grateful that she makes music. She's one of the most intelligent and 
insightful songwriters in America, and her delivery of those songs is almost always riveting. 
On the other hand, she's settled into a groove in which every new song sounds remarkably 
like an earlier song -- it's as if she's forgotten how to create new melodies. And while it's gutsy 
to start an album with a slow, repetitive song like "Are You Alright?", it's self-indulgent to follow 
it with five more slow, repetitive songs. The violin is a nice addition to her standard sound, and 
Bill Frisell is always welcome on guitar. But "Wrap My Head Around That" is just dreadful, and 
repeated listening --out of loyalty-- hasn't helped.
5/1/07

T-Bone Burnett, Dot Records 1986
Burnett has achieved fame as a record producer (most notably with the soundtrack for the film 
O Brother, Where Art Thou?). Generally, his solo records betray too much thought and too 
much effort, and they tend to come across as clever but not heartfelt. Here's the big exception. 
This thirty minutes of acoustic music, recorded live without overdubbing, is about as perfect as 
a record can be. In retrospect, I see that it's a purer form of the more calculated "folk" construction 
of O Brother and another Burnett production, Gillian Welch's Revival. Burnett wrote the two 
strongest songs, "River of Love" and "I Remember," which is saying something about an album 
that includes an outstanding performance of Tom Wait's "Time." 
4/4/07

Old & in the Way, Round Records 1973
This might be the first bluegrass album that I ever heard. A side project of Grateful Dead guitarist 
Jerry Garcia, Garcia is the least interesting thing about it. It's a showcase for Peter Rowan 
(formerly a sideman for bluegrass giant Bill Monroe), David Grisman (formerly a sideman for 
bluegrass great Red Allen), and Vassar Clements (also ex-Monroe). They do justice to traditional 
material (e.g., "Pig in a Pen"), but it's the newer material that makes it interesting. Rowan's hippie 
anthem "Panama Red" is loads of fun (and even more fun if you gasp the drug reference of the title) 
and their version of the Rolling Stones' "Wild Horses" is stirring. Too bad this disc doesn't include 
"Lonesome L.A. Cowboy." For that, you need another of their albums.
3/20/07

Susan Tedeschi, Hope and Desire, Verve 2005
If I didn't know the year  it was released, I'd swear that it was from the 1970s. It sounds like 
Bonnie Bramlett or early Bonnie Raitt. In other words, it's a singer's showcase: a set of great 
songs from a wide range of songwriters, held together by a blues & gospel vibe. None of that 
excessive melisma that passes for soulfulness in this age of American Idol and Christina 
Aguilera-copycats. Derek Trucks offers the intelligent guitar support that Duane Allman used to 
supply as a session musician and the Hammond B-3 organ provides the contrasting "church" 
feel that used to dominate this kind of music. Best of all, it opens with a perfect cover of "You
Got the Silver," the Rolling Stones' best Robert Johnson song that they wrote themselves.
3/13/07

Arcade Fire, Neon Bible, Mercury 2007
There hasn't been music this earnest-sounding since early U2 and Big Country. The overall 
impression is a batch of big sweeping melodic lines pumped up with big, grandiose walls of 
sound. Glockenspiel and pipe organ have that effect. After a few listens, the ballads start to 
emerge, then you notice the twitching, new-wave sound of "The Well and the Lighthouse." Ditto 
for "Antichrist Television Blues," which hides its punk roots in a big chorus and a largely acoustic 
arrangement. In fact, isn't it basically a rewrite of the Violent Femmes' "Add it Up"? "Windowsill" 
takes us into Springsteen-land, just like the (great) pair of songs that mention cars in their titles.
And they remind me of The Triffids.
3/10/07

Jamie Saft Trio, Trouble, Tzadick 2006
I got this last year and finally got around to playing it. It's jazz. Jamie Saft plays piano and 
Hammond organ. There's a pair of guest vocalists. The trio plays a melody and then they 
improvise on it for five or six minutes. You know, standard jazz. Sometimes they get a little 
atonal, but nothing terribly weird happens. Unless, that is, you think it's weird to replace 
Gershwin tunes with eight Bob Dylan songs as your featured material. I could do without Mike 
Patton's vocal overkill on "Ballad of a Thin Man," but otherwise it's fabulous. What it shows, 
overall, is how varied the blues can be.
2/25/07

The Triffids, Born Sandy Devotional,  Hot Records 1986
They don't sound anything like Nick Drake, but it's a safe bet that if you respond to Nick 
Drake, you'll respond to The Triffids. There's a similar combination of darkness, musical 
intelligence, and sensitivity. These songs are about coming of age in the isolation and 
emptiness of rural Australia (it doesn't occur to you to write a song called "Chicken Killer" 
if you grow up in the big city). There's a roots-rock sound, with yearning pedal steel guitar, 
but it's softened and the emotional sweep expanded by a sophisticated use of synthesizers 
and string arrangements. David McComb wrote and sang most of it, but he lets Jill Birt handle 
the suicide song, "Tarrilup Bridge," revealing the influence of the Velvet Underground (Lou 
Reed knew when to let Moe Tucker sing).
2/13/07

Kate & Anna McGarrigle, Warner Bros. 1976 
n today's market, no major record label would release the debut album of the McGarrigle 
sisters. They'd have no clue how to market it. Back then, it was named album of the 
year by Stereo Review. With ten original songs and two quirky covers (one is "Swimming 
Song'), this album betrays no sense of a specific decade, place, or even nationality. ("Blues 
in D," to take one example, features a clarinet. Who else since Benny Goodman arranges a 
blues with prominent clarinet?) Behind their gorgeous voices, the dominant sounds are piano, 
accordion, and banjo. I suppose that two or three of these songs are my two or three favorite 
songs of all time. By the way, they're Canadian, which explains the one song in French. 
1/18/07

Flying Burrito Brothers, The Gilded Palace of Sin, A&M 1969 
Sneaky Pete Kleinow died last week. That's him in the front, with a pterodactyl on the front of 
his fancy suit. Like the music, the clothes were simultaneously a homage and an insult to their 
country-music sources. On most of the album, Sneaky Pete's pedal steel is distorted with fuzz 
tone, creating a sound that was as inviting as it was unique. The Eagles took what was com-
mercial from the Burrito Brothers and made a fortune, but the Eagles could only dream of vocals 
as sweet and pure as those of Gram Parsons and Chris Hillman, who formed this group after they 
left the Byrds. "Wheels" should be the official anthem of America's freeways, and their take on 
"Dark End of the Street" is stellar.
1/18/07

B.B. King, The Ultimate Collection, Geffen 2005 
By coincidence, this disc was sitting it in my CD player when I read that B.B. King was n
amed as one of this month's recipients of a Presidential Medal of Freedom. Since King 
hasn't done anything remarkable for national security or world peace, I guess he won it for 
his cultural contributions to America. Okay, that works for me. King's various record labels 
have issued scores of compilations; this one is noteworthy for putting his entire career on 
one disc. The first eleven tracks take us from 1951 to 1970, from "Three O'clock Blues" to 
"The Thrill is Gone." Song for song, few careers can match him. Then the remainder of 
this generous selection chronicles the craftsmanship of a bluesman who's outlived his 
cultural sources.
12/18/06

Paul McCartney, Run Devil Run, Capitol 1999 
Recorded shortly after the death of Sir Paul's first wife, Linda, the title is now a bit prophetic 
about his impending divorce from the second Mrs. McCartney. Putting that aside, McCartney 
sings twelve of his favorite rock and roll songs plus three new songs in that style. But there's 
absolutely no sense of nostalgia. I don't know who assembled the musicians, McCartney 
and/or co-producer Chris Thomas, but it's a batch of seasoned professionals who cut loose 
with gleeful abandon. The biggest surprise is Pink Floyd guitarist David Gilmour -- not the sort 
of guy one associates with the Chuck Berry riff of "Brown Eyed Handsome Man." Different 
listeners are likely to pick different songs as favorites. Right now, mine are "Honey Hush" and 
"Shake a Hand."
12/17/06

Dion DiMucci, King of the New York Streets, Capitol 2000 
Three discs, 65 songs. Dion was blessed with one the greatest voices of rock and roll. Track 
for track, I'd rather hear his 20 best than a comparable collection by Elvis or Chuck Berry. But 
if you don't care for doo wop, stay away until he emerges, in the wake of Dylan, as a 
"singer-songwriter" (which he already was). Dion's version of Dylan's "Baby, I'm in the Mood 
for You" is definitive. The same goes for Leiber and Stoller's "Ruby Baby" and Tom Waits' 
"Lookin' for the Heart of Saturday Night." I wish Dion would do a whole album of Waits' songs. 
Dion's own "My Girl in the Month of May" is one of rock and roll's greatest love songs, and 
"Daddy Rollin' in Your Arms" is either a great song about sex, or drug addiction, or both.
12/1/06

Robert Fripp, Exposure, E.G. 1979 ; Discipline 2006 (Expanded version) 
There's an old cliché about an iron fist in a velvet glove. As this album demonstrates, Fripp 
prefers to pull the fist out of the glove and display them by side by side. King Crimson fans 
will be comfortable with the results, but who else? Jagged guitar riffs and grinding chord 
sequences sit beside ambient electronic creations, and standard pop songs are either stripped 
bare (Peter Gabriel singing "Here Comes the Flood") or hypercharged (Daryl Hall, of Hall and 
Oates, rips into "You Burn Me Up I'm a Cigarette"). The reissue adds a second disc --allowing 
us to hear the album Fripp wanted to release but couldn't, due to management interference-- 
and Hall's vocal chops provide unity amidst the diversity.
11/19/06

Rolling Stones, Goat's Head Soup, Rolling Stones Records 1973
The Stones once released a compilation disc called Sucking in the Seventies, but it covers 
the second half of the decade. In light of what came next, I'm irrationally fond of this LP. 
"Angie," the hit, is my least favorite track. It goes nowhere. Another ballad, "Winter," is 
splendid. The remaining tracks range from great ("Doo Doo Doo Doo Heartbreaker") to merely 
serviceable ("Silver Train"), but even the weak ones have some stellar guitar interplay between 
Mick Taylor and Keith Richards. Many arrangements are built up over a bed of boogie piano 
-- is Richards even present on "Hide Your Love"? But what I really like about this record is 
Charlie Watts' drumming, which is beautifully recorded.
10/24/06

Johnny Winter, Second Winter, Columbia 1969 
Buy the CD and the liner notes won't make much sense unless you know that the vinyl pressing 
of the two disc set had a blank fourth side. With his brother Edgar on saxophone and keyboards 
(including electric harpsichord), Johnny poses a musical question: How many different ways can 
we arrange and stretch the blues? Eleven tracks make for eleven ways. The five originals are all 
good, but the covers are brilliantly chosen and arranged, taking overly familiar songs and 
exploring their basic blues underpinnings. By comparison, Dylan's original recording of "Highway 
61 Revisited" is prissy, and Little Richard's "Miss Ann" is stiff. And "Johnny B. Goode" rocks 
hard enough not to bore me.
10/23/06

Elvis Costello, Costello & Nieve, Warner Bros. 1996
This limited edition box set of five discs chronicles Costello's 1996 tour (with one disc per show). 
It was a stripped-down tour and he sings for all he's worth. On most songs, there's only his 
voice and Steve Nieve's piano, complete with grandiose flourishes that repudiate the whole 
idea of punk/new wave. On some, it's just Costello and acoustic guitar. Here and there, Pete 
Thomas joins on drums. With each disc at about 25 minutes, the whole thing would fit on two 
discs. That aside, most of these 27 performances are my favorite versions of the songs that are 
featured, particularly "Black Sails in the Sunset" and "Just a Memory." "Alison" becomes a R&B 
medley. Some of the between-song monologues are hilarious, perhaps better than the songs 
themselves. 
10/9/06

Gerry Mulligan/Thelonious Monk, Mulligan Meets Monk, Riverside 1957; Expanded 2003
From the order of the names you can tell who was the bigger star in 1957. Today, we'd reverse 
them. Mulligan's smooth baritone sax and Monk's piano high jinks are an interesting pairing. The 
best description might be food. It's like sweet-and-sour chicken (Mulligan is the sweet part, and 
Monk's dissonances are the sour). Then after a few bites you can feel some heat building up in 
your mouth. The original album has one standard ("Sweet and Lovely"), one Mulligan composition, 
and four Monk compositions. The expanded version adds four alternate takes. Two great takes on 
Monk's "Straight, No Chaser" and a haunting performance of "Round Midnight."
10/2/06

Bob Dylan, Modern Times, Sony 2006
Aside from my aesthetic reaction to the music on this disc, I keep wondering who else is 
listening to it (or at least buying it) in order to send it to the number one position in the popular 
music charts. Assembled from fragments of obscure Americana, the final three songs are 
fabulous. "Nettie Moore" expands a fragment of an American parlor song from 1857. A moving
love song, it uses whimsical verses to set up a haunting chorus. It also contains my favorite line 
of the album, "I'm in a cowboy band." Without mentioning New Orleans, "The Levee's Gonna 
Break" extends the blues tradition of allusive political commentary. Then it closes with "Ain't 
Talkin'," a slow meander through "this weary world of woe." If you find Dylan boring, this one 
will really bore you. But not me.
9/8/06

The Byrds, Live at the Fillmore February 1969, Epic/Legacy 2000
This is so sad. The only reason to release this album is that it represents the best recorded 
documentation of the Byrds at this time. However, it's not a particularly inspired performance. 
If you can locate one, there are several shows from 1970 in circulation. They're glorious, and prove 
that the Byrds were by no means washed-up in their last years together. The long version of "Eight 
Miles High" on 1970's Untitled gives an idea of what this quartet could do, but its guitar interplay is 
tepid compared to some of what's circulating. Guitarist Clarence White could play psychedelic 
music with the best of them.
8/14/06

Electric Light Orchestra, Eldorado, Jet 1974 (Expanded Reissue Sony 2001)
Sonic cheesecake. Jeff Lynne, in love with the Beatles, creates a studio extravaganza that is 
equal parts A Hard Day's Night and Magical Mystery Tour. (Okay, more the latter, but then 
he throws in some Chuck Berry for good measure.) Lynne sings like a more nasal John Lennon; 
suddenly, he soars like Roy Orbison. The orchestra is too loud in some spots, but its integration 
with synthesizers and a rock and roll quartet is generally successful. As was fashionable at the 
time, the vocals are slightly buried in the tidal wave of sound -- you have to strain to catch most of 
the words to "Boy Blue." Get the reissue, on which the eight-minute medley makes for a great 
conclusion.
8/13/06

Lester Young with the Oscar Peterson Trio, Verve 1952 (Reissue 1997)
For weeks now, watching events unfold in the Middle East on live television has been an exercise 
in masochism. Then I was struck by the resemblance between the black shapes in this cover 
and those of Robert Motherwell's abstract "Elegy" series (reflections on another war). The music 
is anything but dark. "On the Sunny Side of the Street" is the shot of optimism that I need when 
I think about the world. Oscar Peterson's light touch on the piano perfectly supports the singing 
quality of Young's tenor saxophone. And then there's the added joy of Barney Kessel's guitar.
7/28/06

Lyle Lovett, Curb 1986
I find it hard to believe that this album is now 20 years old. It's Lovett's recording debut, and I 
originally thought of it as the promising first step of a singer-songwriter with enormous potential. 
In a funny way, I still think of it that way. Although he's done work that's just as good, it's not 
clear he's presented a subsequent set of songs that are better than these. And how to categorize 
it? Is it country music, or some kind of twisted Americana? Among the many highlights, I always 
return to this album for two songs. Musical merits aside, "God Will" is simultaneously funny and 
theologically deep. "This Old Porch" rattles off an astounding string of metaphors before it 
culminates in a mild but shocking moment of bitterness.
7/18/06

Grin, 1 + 1, Spindizzy 1971
At the same time that he was working with Neil Young and Crazy Horse, Nils Lofgren fronted a 
wonderful trio, Grin. (The other two musicians are on the album's back cover.) Their second 
album has a puzzling title unless one notices that the two LP sides are labeled "Rockin' Side" 
and "Dreamy Side," breaking the album into up tempo and slow songs, respectively. "White Lies," 
the opening song, is about as perfect as pop can be. There are multiple hooks and there's a 
delicate balance between acoustic and electric elements. "Moon Tears" is nearly as good. The 
slow ones are so over-the-top with emotion that I overlook their silliness ("Lost a Number") and 
sexism. Graham Nash is on hand for backing vocals, and I like the accordion.
7/07/06

Moby Grape, 20 Granite Creek, Reprise 1971
Loading up the CD changer with blues and boogie for a July 4th barbecue, this album was the 
wild card in a predictable deck. It got more favorable response than anything else. So I was 
surprised to notice that there's neither a description nor rating of it in the All Music Guide. The 
lead track, "Gypsy Wedding," got radio airplay when the album was new, and "Goin' Down to 
Texas" and "Ode to the Man at the End of the Bar" are pretty terrific, too. The arrangements lack 
the lovely harmonies and vocal interplay of their debut album, but vocalists Lewis, Miller, and 
Mosley shine on their respective songs. Skip Spence is back with the band for one track. The 
closing song, Lewis' "Horse Out in the Rain," is as wonderful as it is depressing.
7/05/06

Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Rodgers and Hart Songbook, Polygram 1997 (Remastered ~ Original 
release 1956) Sitting here with a calculator, crunching the numbers for the semester grades I'll 
assign to students, I want (for their sake, not mine) music that puts me in an amiable mood. This 
is just the ticket: Ella Fitzgerald's crystalline singing wed to the pop sophistication of Rodgers 
and Hart. The first time I heard this, I was surprised at how many of these songs I knew. Unless 
you've lived in a cave, you might, too. Floating along with these melodies, even heartbreak carries 
the message that everything will be all right. My only complaints are that pianist Paul Smith is 
too low in the mix and guitarist Barney Kessel has limited solo space.
5/15/06

Patti Smith, Horses: Legacy Edition, Arista, 2005
To celebrate the thirtieth anniversary of the release of Horses, her debut album, Patti Smith 
performed the eight songs together in concert. This two disc set presents the original album and 
that concert. I always thought "Free Money" was a little anemic on the original. The live version 
has the rock and roll punch that it needs. "Kimberly" has more swagger, and "Elegy" has gained 
a muted trumpet and a litany of departed love ones. Flea (of the Red Hot Chili Peppers) duplicates 
John Entwistle's bass lines on the encore, "My Generation." The passing years have given depth 
to a lot of this material, but those years have also robbed Smith's voice of the girl-group vocal 
swoops that complicated the original performances.
5/3/06

David Thomas Broughton, Complete Guide to Insufficiency, Birdwar/Plug Research, 2005
Every now and then my older brother sends me a few industry promo discs. Quite often, I've 
never heard of the singers. Sometimes I turn it off after one song. Sometimes I play it over and 
over. Here's one that I've been playing all week. Broughton's deep, morose voice is muffled, as if 
at the far end of the room, and it hovers over an acoustic guitar, recorded with greater clarity 
than his voice. Broughton occasionally thickens the vocal by adding his own voice a second 
time. Bits of percussion wander into the mix, then vanish. In short, it's "folk" music made by 
a very self-conscious artist. Five songs, forty minutes. At nearly nine minutes, "Unmarked Grave" 
is as depressing as anything by Richard Thompson. That's an endorsement.
4/26/06

The Greatest Hits of Eric Burden and the Animals, MGM 1969
Not "The Animals," mind you, but the psychedelic group that followed. I regret the absence of 
"Good Times," a cheerful song about squandering life, but unless you're my age, there's a good 
chance you've never heard any of these performances. Yet as the war casualties mount, "Sky 
Pilot" could find a home on the radio again. (And when was the last time you heard a song that 
features both flutes and bagpipes?) On the rest of it, Burden is so sincere about the wonders of 
late-1960s California that one can only marvel at the rococo arrangements and whacked-out 
enthusiasm. Songs associated with Johnny Cash, the Bee Gees, the Rolling Stones, and Tina 
Turner add to the fun.
4/3/06

Leonard Cohen, Dear Heather, Columbia 2004
Where before his singing was half-croaked, it's now a tuneful talking, so that the melodic 
weight is usually carried by supporting female vocalists (Sharon Robinson, in particular). Some 
of the time, Cohen just whispers lyrics into the microphone. The sound is either cool jazz 
("Undertow") or chamber-music with a backbeat, with strong hints of Kurt Weill and Roman 
Catholic liturgical music, sometimes all in the same song ("Morning Glory"). No one else could 
put a jaw's harp on the song "On the Day," a song fragment about "the day they wounded New 
York," and make it work. Then he undercuts his own pretensions by closing with a stirring 
performance of "Tennessee Waltz," the country music standard.
3/20/06

Brian Eno, Another Day on Earth, Opal 2005
Casting doubt on the theory that Brian Eno is some kind of lonely genius, the liner notes list 
more "listeners and commentators" than participating musicians. For those who lost track of him, 
this is a strong return to the approach of his stellar 1970s albums, Another Green World and 
Before and After Science. In other words, he wrote songs. This album is the most understated 
of the trio. Some songs are almost lullabies over rhythm loops. Robert Fripp is on here somewhere, 
but not so you'd notice. Eno's vocals are characteristically deadpan, and Aylie Cooke supplies a 
compelling spoken vocal to the closer, "Bone Bomb."
3/12/06

Lucinda Williams, Live @ The Fillmore, Lost Highway 2005
Cherry-picked from a run of three shows in 2003, this double album is a stellar showcase for 
Williams' songwriting. She wrote all 22 songs, and there's not a dud here. On the other hand, 
aside from some guitar solos, the live versions are not very different from the studio versions. 
So if you want a "best of," this is what you want. But if you already have the studio albums that 
built her reputation, this album is superfluous. There's room on these discs for a few more songs, 
so why not a surprise or two? How about one of those ZZ Top songs she praises here? Or one of 
the Dylan or Hank Williams songs she's been know to cover? Or one of the many hard-core blues 
in her repertoire, like "Hard Time Killing Floor"?
2/9/06

Pixies, Doolittle, Elektra 1989
Sonically, the Pixies were the blueprint for a great deal of 1990s "alternative rock" (Nirvana, 
in particular). This album always reminds me how one-dimensional all of the imitators were. A 
strange mixture of strangled vocals, clichéd guitar riffs, and goofy back-up vocals, the Pixies make 
it clear that serious ideas don't require dour, look-at-me-suffering music. "Monkey Gone to Heaven," 
for example, has both a catchy pop refrain and, if I understand it all, one of the most apocalyptic 
lyrics ever written. "La La Love You" simultaneously skewers bubble-gum pop songs and celebrates 
the giddy rush of love. In fact, it's like a 1960s pop album --only two of the fifteen songs are more 
than 3 minutes long-- that's been warped almost beyond recognition.
1/22/06

The Blue Nile, High, Sanctuary 2004
Eight years since the last album; only four albums in twenty years. Paul Buchanan's vocal 
technique is deceptive. He sounds like he's the guy sitting at the next table in the coffee house, 
talking to himself. If his voice grabs you, great, but if it doesn't, you're unlikely to be patient 
enough to get into the music. After a few listens, melodies emerge. Beautiful ones, most of them 
tracing a slow arc over relatively static beds of piano, synthesizer, and percussion. "Because of 
Toledo" is both typical and outstanding: over a slow tempo, a narrator offers glimpses of an 
unhinged life. He's thankful he's off the drugs, but life still isn't' much better.
1/20/06

Neil Young, Prairie Wind, Reprise 2005
I live on the edge of the prairie, just a few hours south of Winnipeg, where Neil Young once lived. 
I suppose that life in Winnipeg inspired the title of this album. I wish I liked it. I like the cover 
much better than the music, which makes me yawn. The pre-release hype suggested that it 
would be another Harvest Moon. Perhaps it's time for old Neil to write a set of songs about 
something that will inspire him. Trains, perhaps.
12/28/05

Ersel Hickey, The Rockin' Bluebird, Collectibles 2001
The title of this compilation makes no sense unless you know that his biggest hit was 
"Bluebirds Over the Mountains," and even that was only a minor hit in 1958. Why didn't he 
ever score a big hit? "Shame on Me" is one of the best rockabilly songs I'd never heard. Was 
it simply that his style of rockabilly was already becoming old-fashioned? Was it the pompadour? Listening to these twenty tracks today, it's remarkable how much he sounds like Buddy Holly. 
And his version of the show tune "Some Enchanted Evening" is so weird that it borders on the 
avant-garde.
12/18/05

Adam Green, Gemstones, Rough Trade 2005
Remember the comic strip, Calvin and Hobbes? I imagine that, were Calvin to grow up and 
become a musician, this is how his music would sound. By the way, that's a compliment. 
Brash, questioning, sometimes annoying. Simultaneously in-your-face and charming. And smart. 
Very smart. Remember how Calvin used to build corpses instead of snowmen? As a lyricist, 
Green is in similar company--which vulgarity will catch you off guard or, repeated as a chorus, 
will provoke and amuse? The music is off-kilter, too. Broadway show tunes collide with snatches 
of folk and rock'n'roll. The result is much closer to Phil Ochs than Jonathan Richman.
11/18/05

Jimmy Reed, The Very Best of Jimmy Reed, Rhino 2000
Pure groove. Reed isn't that great a vocalist (he's no Muddy Waters). He isn't a great guitarist 
(he's no B.B. King). A number of his songs are well known -- I'm sure I know a half dozen cover 
versions of "Baby What You Want Me to Do" -- yet most of them sound just like all the rest. 
But every performance has the same relaxed, mid-tempo propulsive groove, like traveling down 
the freeway on cruise control on a summer day.
11/15/05

Sly & The Family Stone, There's a Riot Goin' On, Epic 1971
A remastered CD is finally available. Be sure to avoid the older ones, which lack the "American 
flag" cover photo and which sound dreadful. I realized that for four months now, I have played this 
album more times than any other that I own. The sound of the record is unique. The music is all 
groove and pulse, and even the "fast" tracks are relatively slow. All of the instruments sound
muffled and distant. In sharp contrast, Sly's vocals are out front, in vivid close-up, and they
often sound like a man huddled under a blanket, muttering to himself. "Thank You For Talkin'
To Me Africa" is astounding -- Sly's old hit, "Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)," but this
time, with malice.
10/19/05

Chad VanGaalen, Infiniheart, Sub Pop 2005
He sits in his bedroom in Calgary and records immaculate songs of heartbreak. Winter 
conditions in Calgary encourage this sort of thing (and Chad's photo on the back of the CD 
shows him outside in the dead of winter, in a setting that could be down the street from my house). 
Most of the songs employ very simple acoustic guitar and light washes of synthesizer, with his 
angelic voice floating on top. Some of the lyrics try too hard to be deep. Some are simply absurd: 
"I'd like to build us a home in a tree." Much of it recalls Neil Young, the Neil of "I Am A Child." 
Case in point: "I Miss You Like I Miss You."
10/3/05

David Ackles, American Gothic, Elektra 1972
Today it suddenly feels like autumn, so I put on this, a decidedly autumnal album. By turns 
restrained and then theatrical, the sound is piano, light orchestration, Ackles' meaty voice, 
and occasional supporting voices. It's as if Rodgers and Hart created a musical adaptation of 
Winesburg, Ohio (Sherwood Anderson's 1919 short story collection), or Edgar Lee Masters' 
1916 poetry collection, Spoon River Anthology. If those references mean nothing to you, think 
Randy Newman with more empathy and less irony. The tale of Billy Whitecloud could be a 
century old, or a contemporary news story.
9/23/05

Patti Smith, trampin', Columbia/Sony 2004
The new songs are strong and her singing is better than ever. Her quintet plays with confidence 
and Jay Dee Daugherty remains one of my favorite drummers. "Gandhi" evokes passages from 
his earliest albums, particularly the title tracks of both Horses and Easter. But a problem confronts 
me every time I get to this album's closing song, "trampin'," the melody of which strongly recalls 
the hymn "Bringing in the Sheaves." The simple piano accompaniment is perfect for Smith's voice. 
But it calls attention to the empty hole in the sonic middle range of the rest of her music, a space 
previously filled by the piano of Richard Sohl.
9/19/05

Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Will the Circle Be Unbroken, EMI 1972/Expanded edition 2002
"Take it, Vassar," says a voice, and a flurry of violin jump-starts a tune. Vassar Clemens died 
a few days ago. In the era before compact discs and digital downloads, these three vinyl discs 
were my initiation into "country" music. Vassar Clemens played with all the flash and fire that 
I associated with rock music. Listening to him here, I got my introduction to Maybelle Carter, 
Earl Scruggs, Doc Watson, and other great musicians representing three generations of 
quintessentially American music. My favorite moment is when Vassar drops a few bars of 
the "Dragnet" TV theme into "Orange Blossom Special."
8/25/05

John Cale, HoboSapiens, Or Music/EMI 2003 
The title refers to the overall theme of geographic and cultural displacement. "Things" is not so 
interesting that it merits its appearance in two versions, but otherwise Cale offers a baker's 
dozen of drum loops, electronic samples, found sounds, and his dour voice, which has deepened 
slightly with age. The songs are often built up from musical fragments, with numerous 
well-integrated incorporations of "world music" (the supporting vocals on "Reading My Mind," 
the nagging acoustic guitars of "Letters From Abroad"). Best of all is "Magritte," about the 
transforming power of art. How can the world remain the same "after we saw Magritte"?
8/22/05

Woody Guthrie, Dust Bowl Ballads, RCA Victor 1940, Buddha Records expanded edition 2000
I bought a Woody Guthrie album when I was a college freshman. I hated it. This famous 
collection of ballads ("ballad" in the old sense of the term, meaning a song that tells a story) 
has the same rudimentary guitar and rough vocals. So I can understand it when others prefer 
to admire the legend while listening to something else, such as Springsteen's recent 
Devils and Dust. But now I prefer the sources over the derivations. As with Walker Evans's 
or Dorothea Lange's photographs of the same time and place, what is emotionally gripping 
need be neither pretty nor easy.
8/12/05

Joan Baez, Any Day Now, Vanguard 1968
Consisting of 16 songs written by Bob Dylan, this album is hard to find on compact disc. 
That's because Vanguard prefers to push the 20-song compilation Vanguard Sessions: 
Baez Sings Dylan, which cuts two songs from this album and adds five from other albums. 
Any Day Now is superior, both because there is a consistency of sound --Baez recorded it 
in Nashville, using many of the same musicians that Dylan used on his three great Nashville 
albums-- and it features her version of "Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands," on which Ken 
Buttrey's drumming is transplendent.
8/3/05

Olivier Messiaen, Quatuor Pour La Fin Du Temps, Deutsche Grammophon 2000 
I purchased this recording after reading an account of the music's composition in a German 
camp, Stalag VIII A, during World War II. I played this "Quartet for the End of Time" quite a 
lot in late September, 2001. I pulled it out and played it again following the terrorist bombings 
of London earlier this month. All good music suspends time by enveloping the listener in a time 
of its own. This music suspends time musically, and Messiaen thus asks us to meditate on 
the end of time. For fifty minutes, the most abstract of arts presents an abstract idea: the 
heavenly stillness after life.
7/19/05

k. d. lang, Hymns of the 49th Parallel,  Nonesuch 2004 
Although I own most of her albums, I am hardly a k.d. lang fan. Too much of her recording 
career is strongly derivative of singers she admires, and/or sung with a knowing wink of 
condescension. Yet I adore this quiet album of "cover" versions of songs by Canadians. 
A few of them are a bit too obvious (Neil Young's "After the Gold Rush"), but she consistently 
wins me over with the beauty and intelligence of her singing. My only criticism is that there 
are only eleven songs. Ron Sexsmith deserves at least another song, and something more 
obscure by Leonard Cohen would be welcome.
7/04/05

Neil Young, Time Fades Away,  Reprise 1973
The cover photograph was recreated as a passing moment in Almost Famous, a film set in 
the days when these live recordings were released. Following Young's Harvest album, these
performances were once thought raw, ugly, and noncommercial. I've been playing it in the car 
for the last two weeks. So far, no one has objected. In fact, the lack of polish invites everyone to 
sing along, off-key. Listen beyond Young's raw guitar and you'll hear Young's interplay with 
Ben Keith's piercing pedal steel guitar and Jack Nitzsche's rolling piano. 
6/28/05

Free, Best of Free,  A&M 1973
The Blues, 1970's British style, which means it's pronounced "De Blooze," and which also 
means that I ignored it for more than twenty years. I was only familiar with the hit, "All Right 
Now," which is far more aggressive than anything else here. Avoiding cover versions, Free 
specialized in rambling, intense songs and tasteful musicianship that's refreshing for its refusal 
to pander. Seldom in a hurry, the basic quartet played with silence as well as sound. Another 
"best of" collection has replaced this one in the marketplace, but this one has "The Hunter."
6/13/05

Nina Simone, Gifted and Black, Canyon 1970 
Deeply soulful. Available on compact disc in various budget reissues (I got my copy for 50 
cents), this live concert impresses me more than anything else I've heard this year. "To Be 
Young, Gifted and Black" and "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" feature sparse arrangements 
that put her voice out front, making her sound equally powerful and intimate. I've always thought 
of her as a jazz singer, but that simply calls attention to the inadequacy of our categories. If 
she has a category, she shares it with Aretha Franklin, not Ella Fitzgerald.

6/6/05

Sonny Rollins, The Quartet featuring Jim Hall, RCA/Bluebird 1986 
I know, I know, he's a mercurial bop virtuoso. But there's so much more. I pulled this out to hear 
while reading Stanley Crouch's recent profile of Rollins in The New Yorker. It's the sessions for 
his famous 1962 album, The Bridge, together with the rest of his studio work from 1962-1964. 
What struck me was his evident delight in rhythm and melody. What struck me even more was 
the guitar of Jim Hall, whom Rollins plucked from obscurity to accompany his comeback after a 
long sabbatical. Like most musicians, Rollins thrives when he has a musical foil.

6/6/05

Mark Vidler, GoHomeProductions, Online mp3 downloads  
When Jacques Attali predicted the future of music, he predicted that the over-supply 
("stockpiling") of commercial music would be the starting point for a new music. This new 
activity would overturn the specialized roles (composer, performer, audience) that dominated 
all previous music. Well, here it is: the mash-up. The music of one record is stripped of its 
vocal, the vocal of another is stripped of its music, and one is laid atop the other. Sometimes 
silly, sometimes scary. Christina Aguilera and the Velvet Underground! It's as if Nico were still
 there for Loaded. http://www.gohomeproductions.co.uk/mp3.html
1/20/05

Leonard Cohen, Death of a Ladies' Man,  Warner Bros. 1977
One Phil Spector production leads to another. Spector co-wrote these nine songs with Cohen, 
assembled the band, and produced the album. Cohen evidently hates it so much that none of 
it appears on The Essential Leonard Cohen. Yet it remains a crucial album in Cohen's 
development, moving him from the sparse, "folk" settings of the early albums to the more 
adventuresome musical arrangements of all his subsequent work. What's more, Cohen's 
singing is better on this album than on anything else he's released. Wrongly dismissed as 
a Cohen album best left to Cohen fanatics, musically it is the richest of any of his albums.
12/29/04

Phil Spector, A Christmas Gift For You,  Philies 1963/Rhino 1987
(Also re-released as Phil Spector's Christmas Album)
Girl-group heaven. I know of no Christmas music that captures the kitsch of the season half so 
well as this album. Spector's "wall of sound" and inventive arrangements harness classic rock 
and roll to a batch of familiar songs like "White Christmas." I can't think of better versions of 
"I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus," "Frosty the Snowman," and "Christmas (Baby Please 
Come Home)." But program your CD player to skip the last track, in which Spector talks over 
"Silent Night."
12/17/04

The Nashville Acoustic Sessions,  CMH 2004
Although he gives himself equal billing with three Nashville studio pros, this is really Raul Malo's 
second solo album. Malo is vocalist for one of the best groups in contemporary country music, 
The Mavericks, and this disc features eleven covers of songs by eleven composers who've 
influenced him. There's Roy Orbison (to whom Malo is often compared), Bob Dylan, Hank 
Williams, Gram Parsons, and Van Morrison. Parsons' "Hot Burrito #1" has never been more 
passionate ("I'm your toy.." indeed). I was surprised at how it fits so nicely beside a song I'd 
never cared for, Henry Mancini and Johnny Mercer's "Moon River." Great singing is often the art 
of great juxtapositions.
12/10/04

Paul Simon, One Trick Pony,  Warner Bros. 1980 (Remastered and Expanded 2004)
It kicks off with the infectious rhythms of "Late in the Evening." With the addition of "Stranded 
in a Limousine," this soundtrack of a vanity film project is dominated by the blues, not something 
one thinks of as Paul Simon's strength. So when Randy Newman wanted to make fun of white 
guys singing the blues, Newman got Simon to sing "The Blues." Yet most of this album features 
low-key, jazz-tinged arrangements of Simon's blues-iest set of songs. They work because Simon 
makes no claim to authenticity. "That's Why God Made the Movies" and "How the Heart 
Approaches What It Yearns" are great songs among a half dozen other good ones.
11/25/04

Marshall Crenshaw, Marshall Crenshaw,  Warner Bros. 1982
As retro as the table and coffee cup in the cover photograph, Crenshaw's first LP offers twelve 
deceptively simple rock and roll songs. He's made any number of fine albums since, but he's 
never written another verse to match this one: 
     Well I hate TV 
     There's gotta be somebody other than me 
     Who's ready to write it off immediately 
     I'm lookin' for a cynical girl.
And who else has offered, as a convincing reason to love New York City, that it's a reliable 
cure for ennui? And does it in an "aw-shucks" manner that blocks any hint of pretension?
11/19/04

Pere Ubu, Terminal Tower,  Twin Tone 1985
It's Armistice Day, or is that Veteran's Day? Time to listen to "Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo," 
one of Pere Ubu's most majestic and horrific songs. This collection of singles dating from 1975 
to 1980 is the most accessible album of their "early" years (before they disbanded, then 
regrouped with a more conventional sound). In other words, these tracks are generally less 
experimental and willfully weird than the Pere Ubu albums that followed. Nonetheless, the guitar 
and synthesizer parts are refreshing diversions from standard rock music.  The vinyl album sold 
fewer than 11,000 copies before going out of print. But it's available on CD.
11/11/04

Brian Wilson, Smile,  Nonesuch 2004
I cannot recall the last time that I went out of my way NOT to hear something, as I did this album. 
The Beach Boys aborted the album Smile in the 1960s and let their cultural moment pass. My 
original response to the news that Brian Wilson had returned to the project was something 
between horror and sadness. Having heard it, my response is gratitude. Lush, flowing, silly, and 
pretentious, it may mean nothing to the pop audiences of today. Unless, perhaps, they're already 
hip to what made the Beach Boys so wonderful.
10/22/04

20/20, 20/20,  CBS 1979
I'm a sucker for this kind of thing: solid 4/4 drumming, snotty vocals, sharp hooks, lyrics full of 
mundane details about adolescent life, girlfriends addressed as "baby,"  the little cries of "HEY!" 
as they move from verse to chorus. I bought this several years ago for a buck, set it aside, and 
forgot that I had it. Then I came across it again and finally played it. I cannot remember the last 
time that I got such pleasure from one dollar. Should-have-been-a-hit: "Yellow Pills." Runner-up: 
almost everything here.
10/22/04

Fountains of Wayne, Welcome Interstate Managers,  S-Curve 2003
Somebody else on the Internet posted this about this band: "To say the FoW is that best band 
in the world would be untrue; to say that FoW plays for themselves would be trite; however, to 
say that Fountains of Wayne is talented is an understatement." Absolutely right! "Stacy's Mom" 
is their second hit, so they're no longer one-hit wonders. The rest of the album reminds me of early 
Steely Dan, minus the jazz pretensions (including the percussion on "Hey Julie," which reminds 
me of the Dan's "Do It Again").
10/10/04

The Replacements, Pleased to Meet Me,  Warner Bros. 1987
In the 2004 film Saved!, a parent complains to Pastor Skip that Christian bands sound too 
much like regular rock bands. This comment sets up one of the film's most subtle jokes. When 
we later see a "Christian" rock band perform, their set consists of nothing but Replacements songs,
including the stellar ballad from this album, "Skyway." In fact, the rock band in the film is doing 
nothing but lip-synching to the Replacements' original recordings.
10/10/04

Canned Heat, Living the Blues,  1968
What many attribute to karmic forces, I attribute to the sheer luck of serendipity. While writing an 
academic paper on authenticity in music, I threw this album on the boom box. There I had it: white 
boys claiming that they were "living the blues," playing Charlie Patton songs that were already five 
decades old. What could be less authentic? Does that make the Jimmie Rodgers song more 
authentic? But then again, didn't one of these guys teach Son House how to play his own songs? 
And what could be more authentically 1960s than the graphics of this album cover? Dr. John 
contributes piano to one track and John Fahey contributes guitar to another. For my money, it's 
as authentically expressive as anything the Sex Pistols ever did.
9/20/04

Buffalo Springfield, Last Time Around, Atco 1968
The cover captures it: in a group of five, Neil Young looks the other way. Decades later, Young
apparently held up the Buffalo Springfield box set until it was sequenced in a way that denies the 
existence of this album. Why? Because Neil didn't approve of some of the songs, because 
bassist Bruce Palmer had been deported and was replaced by Jim Messina, or because they 
used Richie Furay as lead vocalist on one of Neil's song? Most of the music is beautiful 
country-rock, with occasional Latin rhythms. It's the most charming of their three albums.
8/20/04

Fairport Convention, What We Did On Our Holidays, Hannibal, 1969
Once, for a short time, there was a style of music called folk-rock. It's two most distinctive 
features were vocal harmonies (think of Simon and Garfunkel) and cover versions of Bob Dylan 
songs (think of the Byrds). This album offers flawless executions of both. There's a Joni Mitchell 
song, too. But it's also the first fully realized work by both Sandy Denny and Richard Thompson. 
Gentle and soothing, its depths are trauma, sin, and despair. There's also the soaring sing-a-long 
of "Meet On the Ledge." It's their signature song, and one of my favorites, yet I have no idea 
what the phrase means. Why would we meet on a ledge?
8/04/04

That's The Way I Feel Now: A Tribute to Thelonious Monk, A&M, 1984
The first time that I heard a recording of Thelonious Monk was so memorable that I can tell 
you where I was sitting and who I was with. Hal Willner's tribute album offers fresh arrangements
of 23 Monk compositions. The obvious choices are all here, with especially evocative renditions
of "Misterioso" (by Carla Bley) and "'Round Midnight" (by Joe Jackson). The two tracks with 
Dr. John emphasize the stride piano underpinnings of the music, while Chris Spedding and Peter
Frampton ingeniously arrange "Work" for two guitars. Unfortunately, several performers assume 
that Monk's strangeness is best conveyed through ugliness, so I don't have much use for the 
contributions of John Zorn or Shockabilly. Monk's music is about humor and unconventional 
beauty, not shock and ugliness.
7/21/04

Scott Joplin (Composer), The Easy Winners, Angel, 1975
Ten ragtime classics written a century ago, perfect for the Fourth of July or for any other 
American holiday you care to celebrate. Or the perfect background for a mint julep. These 
versions are a little different, since violinist Itzhak Perlman has arranged them for piano and
violin. But that treatment is perfectly in keeping with the conventions of ragtime -- Joplin 
himself helped his publisher create scores for different combinations of instruments. André 
Previn plays the piano parts, but it's the violin that provides the sweet voice of the melody.
7/01/04

Emmylou Harris, Blue Kentucky Girl, Warner Bros., 1979 (Rhino expanded cd, 2004)
I had a low opinion of "country" music until I was seduced by the voice of Emmylou Harris. 
(The Byrds led me to Gram Parsons, who led me to Emmylou.) And where did she find all 
these great songs? Then I noticed the musicianship of the players she worked with. Then I 
realized that I liked country music just fine. This album was the beginning of Harris' solid 
streak of "traditional" country albums. In retrospect, I realize that the harmonies on most of 
these songs are central to their power.  Now it's been reissued with two bonus tracks, and 
they fit perfectly.
6/24/04

Steely Dan, Everything Must Go, Reprise, 2003
"We're going out of business," they sing on the title track. I sure hope not. Their come-back 
disc in 2000 was such a treat that this one was initially a disappointment. None of the songs 
are particularly catchy and most of the them employ the same mid-tempo snare-on-the-backbeat. 
Now I appreciate it for what is: a solid groove as a platform for relaxed soloing. It sounds like 
the music of a summer afternoon.
6/21/04

Ray Charles, Definitive, WEA, 2001
For a few minutes, the cable news networks stopped talking about the death of Ronald Reagan.
Sadly, they told us of the passing of Brother Ray. By some strange quirk, I was listening to one 
of his "best of" collections the previous evening. It doesn't matter which collection you  choose.
They're all great. But I'm particularly fond of his cover versions of country-and-western classics. 
And I'm willing to bet Ray Charles never voted for the so-called "great communicator."
6/21/04

Loretta Lynn, Van Lear Rose, Interscope, 2004
I saw her in live performance once, the only show I've ever snuck into without a ticket. She's 
70 now, but sounds almost exactly the same as she did on her big hits. White Stripe fans already
know that Jack White produced this disc. While the fast ones tend equate "authentic feeling" 
with sloppiness, there's considerable power in the combination of White's rock leanings and 
Lynn's voice and predictable melodies. On first listen, the obvious highlight is the vocal duet on 
"Portland Oregon." The other gems are all at the end, particularly "Miss Being Mrs," the one 
track whose musical arrangement is pictured in the cover photo.
6/10/04

Steve Forbert, Streets of This Town, Geffen, 1988
Forbert is a singer-songwriter with a nasal voice, which cursed him with a "new Dylan" label 
when his first album was released in 1978. Like Dylan, he knows how to cram unexpected 
syllables into a line of verse. Although Forbert never became a household name, after a decade 
of recording he teamed up with Garry Tallent (Bruce Springsteen's bass player). The result is 
his most consistent album. I found it in the "remainders" bin at a major retailer for two bucks. 
"I Blinked Once" is a moving ballad, and the choruses of "Perfect Stranger" and "Wait a Little 
Longer" are as refreshing as the first cup of coffee in the morning.
5/26/04

Elvis Costello, Trust, Columbia, 1981 (2 disc edition, Rhino, 2003) 
Extremely intelligent yet nasty lyrics are yoked to perky sing-alongs, some barked out in
a hoarse shout, some delivered in a jazzy croon. The original album had 14 songs but no
discernable center of gravity. Rhino's disc of 17 bonus tracks is what I keep coming back 
to. There's considerable redundancy in the song selection, but the unreleased tracks are 
generally harsher and more forceful. The cover version of "Slow Down" is one of his best
rock-and-roll performances.
5/25/04

Sparks, Kimono My House, Island, 1974
Extremely intelligent yet nasty lyrics are yoked to perky, chirpy sing-alongs, delivered in a 
mock-operatic voice. Sparks had two big British hits with this LP, exposure to which results 
in their repeating themselves endlessly in your brain. They are, naturally, the opening songs: 
"This Town Ain't Big Enough for Both of Us" and "Amateur Hour." But "Talent is an Asset" 
has the same effect. Two or three years later and minus the bed of keyboards, Cheap Trick 
would score their first hits with a similar sound. But their imitation was never as musically 
clever as the final track, "Equator," and its when-will-this-ever-end a cappella coda.
5/19/04

Chris Cacavas, Chris Cacavas and Junk Yard Love, Heyday, 1988
As war atrocities fill the headlines, I find myself drawn to side one of this record, which sat in 
among my LPs untouched since the 1980s. I wanted to hear one song, but it took me a long 
time to find it, because I couldn't even remember who sang it. Here it is, the second song; 
"Truth," with backing vocals by Johnette Napolitano (of Concrete Blonde). If you don't know 
who's singing, you'd swear it's Neil Young and Crazy Horse. "After the bombs fall/After the 
Berlin Wall," begins one verse, and the song is twice punctuated by a soaring, unexpected 
bridge: "Some take the long way around," he sings, and then a solo guitar enters, courtesy 
of the Byrds. 
5/14/04

Jim Carroll, Catholic Boy, Atco, 1980
A student asked me why I don't have any rap in my list of what I'm listening to. The obvious 
answer would be that I'm not listening to it. Or does this album count as rap?  It is, in the same 
way that Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues" is rap. Except that most of Carroll's work 
has even less melody. The songs "Catholic Boy" and "People Who Died" are awesomely raw. 
Then you notice how carefully worked the language is, and you see how it's raw like David 
Lynch and Goya, not raw like Jack Kerouac and Willem de Kooning. In other words, it takes 
a professional poet to sound this honest, with every word calculated for effect. The music is 
forceful, too.
5/03/04

Carlene Carter, Musical Shapes, Warner Brothers, 1980
That's Carter as in The Carter Family. Carlene made this album (her third and best) during her 
marriage to Nick Lowe, who brought in the rest of the group Rockpile. The sound is tight but 
never slick. It was a complete and total commercial bomb. But if you could copyright style and 
attitude, she'd be rich, because today, every other woman singing on "country" radio sounds like 
Carlene Carter on this album. But nothing on the radio is as much fun as her duet with Dave 
Edmunds, "Baby Ride Easy." Oh, and she does "Ring of Fire" because it was written by her 
mother, June Carter Cash. Some of her own songs are not unlike it..
4/29/04

Various Artists, Rainy Day, 1984
So whatever happened to Karl Precoda? His guitar goes berserk on the title song, the Jimi 
Hendrix number from Electric Ladyland. Unlike that track, the rest of these cover versions of 
1960s songs are "folk" rather than "rock," which is another way of saying that this is a "roots" 
collection. But what's really at work here is that a bunch of California kids, facing adult life, look 
back to their record collections and pretend that they're the rock stars they most admire. For a 
moment, they succeed. When I think of the song "I'll Be Your Mirror," this version is the one 
that plays in my head. 
4/09/04

Joan Armatrading, Lovers Speak, 2003
This album was released a year ago, but I didn't know that it existed until quite recently. Born 
on the Caribbean island of St. Kitts and a pop star in Britain, she doesn't fit any of the 
stereotypes that are used to market non-white singers in the U.S.A., so her career is all but 
invisible. Overdubbing herself on everything except percussion, Armatrading delivers 14 new 
songs, half of them the equal of her strongest work. Given that her best songs rank with best 
of the last twenty years, one could do worse. The millions plunking down their dollars for 
Norah Jones might want to make this their next purchase. 
3/31/04

The Folk Years, Time-Life Collection, 2003
Eight discs loaded with 120 songs, and after a few listens, that's 80 tracks I never want to hear 
again. But there are many that I haven't hear since I was a child. Among them, the Sandpipers' 
"Come Saturday Morning" and Tom Paxton's "The Last Thing on my Mind" are forgotten gems. 
Some of the best material is by artists who aren't "folk," no matter how far you stretch the 
category (e.g., The Band, The Mamas and the Papas, the Lovin' Spoonful, Otis Redding). As for 
the rest, six artists more or less exhaust what's really special here. You can almost guess which 
ones in advance of listening: Dylan, The Byrds, Joan Baez, Judy Collins, Pete Seeger, and 
Johnny Cash. 
3/22/04

The Pogues, Rum, Sodomy & the Lash, MCA, 1985
Wednesday was St. Patrick's Day, offering an excuse to have a few friends over, load the CD 
changer with Irish music, and crack open a bottle. As if we need an excuse! We just call this 
album "that drunken Irish music." The actual title is a phrase attributed to Winston Churchill, 
describing the traditions of the British Royal Navy. But the subject of the album as a whole is 
post-colonialism and the end of the empire. If Rudyard Kipling had written songs, one of them 
would be on here, with expletives added. The traditional American "Jesse James" is included, 
just in case you think songs about Ireland and Australia are quaint regionalisms.
3/17/04

Brinsley Schwartz, Despite It All, Capitol, 1970 
"Well, the sun shone down," begins one song,  and this album is a sunny day in the country, just 
like the cover image. More than the sum of  its influences (Crosby Stills & Nash, the Band, 
Van Morrison, the Byrds), they mix saxophone  and pedal steel guitar and refuse to 
acknowledge that there's any stylistic contradiction. If you've never heard of them, don't 
blame yourself, but note that lead vocalist Nick Lowe contributed "(What's So Funny 'Bout) 
Peace Love and Understanding" to their final LP, four years later.  (Bill Murray sings it in the 
film Lost in Translation.) Some of these songs are nearly as  wonderful. "Love Song," for 
starters.
3/5/04

Phil Ochs, Chords of Fame, A&M 1976
My kids loved the films This is Spinal Tap and Best in Show, but were less impressed by 
A Mighty Wind. Who doesn't get jokes about heavy metal bands and dog shows? But unless 
your hair is graying, it's unlikely you've ever heard any of the music spoofed in A Mighty Wind.
Next to Dylan, Ochs was the sixties' greatest topical singer-songwriter. Unfortunately, most 
topical songs have an expiration date somewhere between milk and cold cuts. Most of these 
are no exception. But there are gems here, among them "There But for Fortune." And one 
topical number, "Here's to the State of Richard Nixon," is now a commentary on how little 
things have changed
2/17/04

Dave Edmunds Get It, Swan Song 1977
I remember when rock music was fun. So does Dave Edmunds, and his nostalgia for it would 
be mere nostalgia if he didn't have the voice and guitar chops to make something of it. Signed 
to Led Zeppelin's custom label, Edmunds delivered the definitive performance of "I Knew the 
Bride (When She Used to Rock and Roll)," a track I still hear at wedding receptions. It usually 
gets everyone out on the dance floor. So would the two tracks that follow it here, one by 
Graham Parker and one that Edmunds co-wrote with Nick Lowe. I might even prefer this 
version of "Hey, Good Lookin" to the original.
2/8/04

Soundtrack Album, Twin Peaks, Warner Bros. 1990
Music's uncanny ability to summon up the past is one of the reasons we listen. If you've never 
seen the TV series for which Angelo Badalamente composed this music, you might classify it with 
the lounge music revival. But for those who saw the show when it was something fresh, well, I 
can only report that as I was playing it, my partner came in and asked what the creepy music 
was. Fourteen years later, the creepiness depends on having formed the right associations, 
adding depth to these otherwise tranquil surfaces.
1/25/04

Harry Nilsson, Nilsson Sings Newman, RCA 1969
The opening track of Parks' Song Cycle is Randy Newman's "Vine Street," a reminiscence of 
being "third guitar" in a rock band. It's also the opening track here, which led me from one to the 
other. Where Parks is grandiose, Nilsson's song cycle is minimalist. Much of the time it's just
Nilsson's voice and Randy Newman's piano. Newman wrote all the songs, and these perfect
renditions are frequently stronger than Newman's own versions. Nilsson's sweet vocals on
songs like "Love Story" and "So Long Dad" initially disguise their brutal messages, generating 
a delicious irony over and above the irony Newman builds into the lyrics.
1/15/04

Van Dyke Parks, Song Cycle, Warner Bros. 1968
I grant you that this stuff is a tad precious, and Parks' nasal tenor is his weakest asset. When
this was new, I suspect that listeners thought of it as psychedelic, like certain Beach Boys 
tracks that Parks co-wrote with Brian Wilson. Now we might call it postmodern: jarring 
juxtapositions of styles and moods (some tracks are under a minute) collide with nostalgia, 
word-play, and social commentary. He's tried to incorporate the history of American popular 
music into one LP, and he's nearly succeeded. Think Charles Ives. Think whimsy. Think too 
smart for his own good. And did I mention how tuneful it all is?
1/10/04

Charlie Haden and Hank Jones, Steal Away, Verve 1995
It's that horrible time of year, time to grade final examinations. Grading student essays requires 
just the right sort of music, and this album fits the bill. It's merely bass and piano. It's melodic 
without being dull, and the music is familiar (mostly spirituals and folk songs) but played 
inventively. "We Shall Overcome" takes on new meaning when you're only halfway through 
a stack of essays.
12/18/03

Iggy Pop, The Idiot, RCA 1977
The stereotype is that rock and roll is fast, fun and stupid. All of which was more or less true 
of the first Stooges LP. So I guess this is where Iggy starts to make art music, because it's 
mostly midtempo, depressing, and smart. (And the cover is arty black-and-white, just like 
Elvis Costello for his first Deutsche Grammophon album). Of Iggy's two styles, it's tough to 
say which is more decadent. As Tolstoy said of Baudelaire, "the feelings which the poet 
transmits are evil and very low ones." As if that's a bad thing.
12/12/03

Elvis Costello, North, Deutsche Grammophon 2003
It's new, so I bought it.. I used to buy all his albums the week they were issued. I saw him on 
David Letterman, singing a song from this album. It sounded good. What I didn't know was 
that all eleven songs sound pretty much alike. I would not have imagined that he could make 
an album this dull, but here it is. I couldn't get the "free bonus track" to download from the 
internet, either. Music reviewer Stephen Thomas Erlewine calls it "subtle." It's now in my pile of 
stuff to sell to a pawn shop.
12/07/03

Television, Adventure, Elektra 1978/Rhino Expanded Edition 2003
Their debut got raves, and deservedly so. Adventure is their sophomore album and it is 
generally dismissed as a disappointing hodge-podge. Yet it's one of the best records released
in 1978. The debut was generally tense; this one's generally hopeful. "Glory," "Days" (not the 
Kinks song), and "Carried Away" are three of my favorite rock songs.
11/20/03

Robin Holcomb, Rockabye, Nonesuch 1992
I was playing this and was asked, "Is this Nanci Griffith?" Then a few dissonant piano chords 
clouded the landscape, and it was evident that it wasn't Nanci Griffith. Holcomb's music is 
sterner stuff, parlor music that's never too sentimental, reminding me of the songs of Charles 
Ives. Holcolm makes art music, but not so you'd notice.
11/07/03

Bob Dylan, John Wesley Harding, Columbia 1968, SACD 2003 
My favorite Dylan album. I'm not saying it's his best. I'm just saying that I play it more than 
any other. 12 songs, 11 of them great. If it didn't have "The Ballad Of Frankie Lee And 
Judas Priest," I might like it even better. (I prefer "Clothes Line Saga," its model.) Neil Young 
liked this album so much, he made his own version of it and called it Harvest. Neil even hired 
Kenny Buttrey on drums. Too bad Neil didn't write this many great songs. 
11/05/03

The Flatlanders, More a Legend Than a Band,  Plantation 1973, various reissues
Look at that cover photo. Lubbock really is that flat. Like Buddy Holly before them, these 
west Texas existentialists escaped in their musical imaginations long before they got a chance to 
hit the road and escape for real. Some people don't like musical saw and won't give this twisted 
C&W a fair chance. Last week I saw three of the Flatlanders on stage together at an outdoor 
festival. Immediately after Jimmie Dale Gilmore started to sing "Tonight I Think I'm Gonna Go 
Downtown," four twenty-somethings sitting nearby left in disgust, offering me a better view 
of the stage. I'm sometimes thankful for small minds.
10/07/03

Jennifer Warnes, Famous Blue Raincoat,  Private Music 1987
You might be able to convince me that Judy Collins and Tori Amos give equally fine 
interpretations of the title song, and you might persuade me that R.E.M. has a more convincing 
take on "First We Take Manhattan." Nonetheless, when Warnes dies, I predict that the Vatican 
will immediately announce her beatification on the basis of two tracks on this album: "Song of
Bernadette" and "Joan of Arc." Leonard Cohen's fascination with blending Roman Catholicism 
and eroticism has seldom been so convincing.
09/26/03

The Best of Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes,  Epic/Legacy 1992
I don't think I have ever heard any of these tracks on the radio. The Jukes were ignored even 
when they were popular. Part of the tradition of honkies trying to sound just like their
African-American models but in reality doing something else, these forgotten tracks were 
deeply nostalgic when they new (1976-1981). Now that their sources are a fading memory, 
the nostalgia factor is reduced and they're simply great tunes from a great band. A whole lot of 
this was written by Bruce Springsteen. Too bad the track with Ronnie Spector is the live 
version, not the studio single.
09/17/03

Bob Marley and the Wailers, Live at the Roxy,  Island 2003
Marley sells much better now than in his lifetime. I don't know that I prefer this to the great 
1975 live album (Live!), but it's good to have a complete show from 1976. It gives me a 
new excuse to listen to most of the same Marley songs as always. At this point Marley and 
the Wailers had been playing this same set of songs over and over and over, yet once again 
they make it sound both inspirational and spontaneous. The gem here is the 24 minute encore 
of "Get Up Stand Up"  into "No More Trouble" into "War." 
09/17/03

Uncle Tupelo, 89/93: Anthology,  Columbia/Legacy 2002
The problem with "country-rock" isn't the music, but rather with the critical response. Folks 
who rave about Uncle Tupelo's merger of country and punk sensibilities must not listen to 
much honky tonk, nor to Johnny Cash. Uncle Tupelo's "I Got Drunk" could have been lifted 
from Lefty Frizzell.. Their compelling reading of "Moonshiner" owes everything to Bob Dylan's 
arrangement. Questions of originality aside, this is damn fine roots music, provided your roots 
include Iggy and the Stooges.
08/11/03

Charles Lloyd in Europe,  Atlantic 1968
My older brother listened frequently to John Coltrane records. I never really paid attention, but 
now I find that this mode of mid-60s jazz feels like going home. The Lloyd quartet featured Keith 
Jarrett on piano, and the album opens with a strange, sitar-like sound that's really Jarrett playing 
the interior of the piano. Jack DeJohnette provides spectacular percussion. I'm surprised to find 
that my favorite track is the shortest, the closing "Hej Da!", a sprightly dance of piano and flute
in which joy wins out over jamming.
08/11/03

The Clash, Combat Rock,  Epic 1982 (Remastered CD on Columbia/Legacy 2000)

Most "new wave" now sounds very, very dated, including at least half of this, the last genuine 
Clash album. But I have mentioned to my family that they might play "Straight to Hell" at my 
funeral.
08/01/03

Jesse Winchester, Jesse Winchester,  Ampex 1970
With 11 perfect songs in about 30 minutes, this debut album is probably the most perfect
embodiment of the genre of singer-songwriter. Too much is made of Winchester's personal 
history (a Tennessee draft-dodger who'd fled to Canada). It is no surprise that the album features
 Levon Helm and Robbie Robertson of the Band, for their musical and geographical roots 
precisely reflect Winchester's merger of country and rock. But it's not country-rock. Think 
James Taylor, only deeper.
07/20/03

The White Stripes, Elephant,  V2 2003
This album was recommended to me by all sorts of people whose opinions I trust. They were 
right. It's fun, fun, fun, without being the least bit nice. Meg White's pioneer dress and Jack 
White's fringed cowboy shirt to the contrary, this duo is a blues band on overdrive. They 
kept reminding me of someone, but it took some time to register: they're the new Kinks! 
Like the Kinks, they merit bonus kudos for fashion sense and graphic design.
05/29/03

Various Artists, I'm Your Fan: The Songs of Leonard Cohen, Atlantic 1991
Leonard Cohen writes the best Bob Dylan songs (circa 1967) this side of Bob Dylan. But 
Cohen's own arrangements often drag, so that I find more than twenty minutes of his singing to 
be about five minutes too many.  This album solves that problem, with 18 performers 
covering their favorite Cohen tunes. Three of these tracks are simply superb: R.E.M.'s 
gleeful assault on "First We Take Manhattan," the Pixies paranoid take on "I Can't Forget," 
and, best of all, John Cale's simple piano arrangement of "Hallelujah."
05/26/03

Lou Reed, Live: Take No Prisoners, Arista 1978
Does this album intentionally have the aesthetically most displeasing cover art of the rock 
era? Except for some stray tracks on Street Hassle (1978) and Lou's obligatory box set, 
this is the only official documentation of a superb band in live action: the sound is dense and
frequently brutal but tinged with jazz and melodicism. It's a mess but it rewards rehearing if 
you edit it, as I did, removing all of  "Walk on the Wild Side" (a mean, mean tease in which 
the band vamps for sixteen minutes while Reed avoids singing the song), chop the long 
monologue out of the middle of "Sweet Jane," and eliminate most of the in-between-song 
rambling. What's left is 65 minutes of strong performance. This is where editing software 
earns its keep.
05/22/03

Linda Ronstadt, Simple Dreams, Asylum 1977
In 1977, I was listening to a lot more Patti Smith than Linda Ronstadt. Twenty-five years 
later, I still listen to Smith, but find that all of her albums are seriously flawed. Ronstadt 
dominated the radio in her prime years, and this album doesn't have a weak cut on it. 
Covered by a singer at the height of her career, Warren Zevon's "Poor Poor Pitiful Me" 
is really rather witty. A year later she was singing support on Zevon's Excitable Boy.
05/12/03

Love, Love Revisited, Elektra 1970
Bringing together key tracks from 1966 to 1969, this is the original "Best of" collection 
for this largely forgotten group. Eleven originals, two brilliant cover versions; think of 
the Byrds without any country influences. Over the course of three albums, they were 
simply wonderful. Then the drugs took hold (just listen to the downer classic, "Signed 
D.C.") and their moment was gone. 
04/22/03

Steely Dan, Citizen Steely Dan,  MCA 1993
With 66 tracks of sonic bliss, these four discs assemble the first seven Steely Dan albums 
into one package. The concept: two cynical college boys who loved jazz front a rock band. 
College textbooks on rock will tell you that punk was more important. Those college 
textbooks won't tell you that Becker and Fagen had exactly the same world-view as the 
Sex Pistols. But Becker and Fagen didn't regard noise as necessary to the expression of 
their cynicism.
04/21/03

Lotte Lenya, Lenya Sings Weill: The American Theatre Songs, Sony Classical 
1999
Both the title and the release date are apt to misinform, since this collection includes 
songs written before Kurt Weill came to America, and it was all recorded (and originally 
released) over forty years ago. But done right, decadence and sentimentality both age 
well. And these were done right. The bitter songs make the sweet ones all the sweeter, 
while the sweet make the bitter all the more pungent. "Lost in the Stars" is the emotional 
(and philosophical) high point.
04/12/03

The Kinks, Face to Face, Reprise 1966 
Although a shade less sophisticated than the Beatles at the same time (and never as 
well-recorded), the Kinks quickly moved beyond bashing out simple R&B riffs to these 
carefully arranged pop songs. "You Really Got Me" may be more fun than anything here, 
but as portraits of the challenges of modern life these songs have barely dated: strong melodies,
strong singing, and subtle humor. And just like the Jam's Setting Sons some thirteen years 
later, it opens with sound of a ringing telephone.
03/31/03

The Jam, Setting Sons, Polydor 1979 
As troops advance on Baghdad, how could I resist a concept album about an imperial 
power suffering a sharp economic downturn, resorting to military exploits to counter its 
creeping malaise? Which just demonstrates that when it succeeds, music has the power 
to speak in unforeseen circumstances. A big deal in Britain in their day but never popular 
in the U.S.A., the Jam rival the Clash for great tunes and a social conscience. And their 
guitar riffs stick in my head for days every time I play them.
03/2403

Talking Heads, The Name of This Band is Talking Heads, Sire 1982
One of the most intelligently assembled live albums ever, these two vinyl discs document 
the progressive expansion of the Talking Heads from a quirky quartet to a polyrhythmic 
juggernaut. For both its scope and its performances, I prefer it to the live album they've 
kept in print, "Stop Making Sense." If this had that other album's recording of the song 
"Heaven," it might be all the Talking Heads you'd ever need.
03/10/03

Shudder to Think, First Love, Last Rites, Sony 1998
Technically, this a movie soundtrack. Sonically, it is a sampler of rock music styles drawn 
from the last 40 years. Conceptually, it's something more: all the songs are written by 
the band Shudder to Think, who perform the music behind an array of very different 
vocalists (e.g., Jeff Buckley, John Doe, Liz Phair, Billy Corgan). There's Stax-style soul 
music, a Velvet Underground ballad, 1960s pop music. It's like a wonderful radio station 
from back in the days when radio was good.
02/021/03

The Eels, Electro-Shock Blues, Dream Works 1998
I' m often asked what "new" material I'm listening to.  For me, something released five 
years ago is new. I just got a copy of this and was surprised by how accessible it is, given 
that it's an album about mortality and mental illness. The fourth track on this album is "My 
Descent into Madness," and that title just about sums up the dominant subject matter. What 
you can't guess from the depressing song titles is how contemplative and exuberant the 
music is.
02/015/03

Washington Phillips, I Am Born to Preach the Gospel, Yazoo 2003
Recorded from 1927 to 1929, these performances are an otherwordly combination of 
country blues, Christian preaching, brief snatches of scat falsetto, and the sound of the 
dolceola (which sounds like a toy piano but is really a sort of zither). "I am born to 
preach the gospel and I sure do love my job" it begins, and he sure does. Fire and 
brimstone never sounded so sweet.
02/02/03

Bob Dylan and the Hawks, Tales of a Mexican Painter (bootleg) 
A complete concert from 1966. For several years it was available free for downloading 
from the official website of The Band (who were, in '66, still the Hawks). Not such a revelation in
the wake of  Dylan's release of the Manchester tapes from the same year, but of interest for 
the direct evidence that not every audience hissed and shouted rude remarks. This Australian 
crowd is pretty damn respectful. And then there's the amazing little story of the Mexican Painter 
that introduces "Just Like Tom Thumb Blues."
01/26/03

Neil Young, Hawks & Doves, Warner Bros. 1980 
Is this even available on compact disc? I burned it to CD from vinyl a few days ago and it 
demonstrates that the most significant thing about the vinyl long player was the pause 
created by the act of flipping it over, a silence that decisively divided the record into two 
distinct parts. Neil takes full advantage of that fact here. Side one has the feel of Young's
Comes a Time, and side two is jaunty fake-country. I had to add a minute of silence so 
that "Stayin' Power" doesn't destroy the mood left by "Captain Kennedy." But the true 
highlight is the opening track, the solo performance of the delicate "Little Wing" (no, it's 
not the Jimi Hendrix song).
01/014/03

Warren Zevon, Excitable Boy, Asylum 1978 
An uneven album, with a highly produced sheen, this is the music that announced Zevon's 
cracked sensibility to the larger world, via the radio hit ""Werewolves of London." The 
centerpiece is "Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner" (which Zevon recently performed 
with real gusto on David Letterman). Three superb ballads give the album some depth, 
balancing out the jokes. But the real highlight remains "Lawyers, Guns, and Money," a plea 
for escape where the dilemma is never specified.
01/06/03

Funkadelic, One Nation Under a Groove, Warner Brothers 1978 
By some unplanned serendipity, I see that Warren Zevon's Excitable Boy also dates 
from 1978. Where that album has the polished sound of Los Angeles prior to the punk 
explosion, Funkadelic is the sound of a major funk machine that wasn't yet swamped by the 
emerging backlash against disco. As with James Brown, sampling means that you'll 
know these grooves even if you don't know the songs. As songs, toilet humor remains 
a weakness, reminding me that the words are there only because the audience needs 
something to chant along with. With the long, slow burn of a live recording of "Maggot 
Brain," the band demonstrates how superfluous those lyrics really are.
01/06/03

Duke Ellington, The OKeh Ellington, Columbia 1991; recorded 1927-1930 
Living on an academic time table, at my house it's time to grade final exams. 
Since that seemingly endless task inspires misanthropy, I need an antidote. Lucky 
for me that Duke Ellington existed. Do I really need three versions of "East St. 
Louis Toodle-oo"? You bet! 
12/20/02

John Cale, Vintage Violence, Columbia 1970 
As Monty Python used to say, "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!" Well, 
nobody could have expected this exquisite pop album as his initial project after 
Lou Reed tossed him out of the Velvet Underground when Reed wanted the Velvets 
to make more conventional music. On his own, Cale showed just who had the knack 
for it (hint: not Reed, at least not yet). "Big White Cloud" and "Amsterdam" are two 
of the finest songs and performances from a career studded with neglected gems.
 12/12/02

The Chieftans, Bells of Dublin, RCA 1991 
This album is a staple of our Christmas season. It's holiday music, sure, but not so that 
you'd notice. Reels and hornpipes mingle with traditional holiday fare such as " God Rest 
Ye Merry Gentlemen" and "O Holy Night." Nothing sanctimonious, and with recovering 
junkie Marianne Faithful singing "I Saw Three Ships a Sailing," it offers the hope of 
redemption for every one of us. Actually, there's a whole pack of famous guests on 
vocals, but they're not pictured on the cover, because they're not the reason to listen.
 12/09/0

Tom Waits, Used Songs (1973-1980), Rhino 2001 
None of his early albums were consistent enough for me to replace my vinyl with 
digital copies, so this recent anthology fills a nice gap in my collection. He used to 
seem so Bohemian: a self-conscious throwback to the 1950s beat poets and their love 
of jazz. Now he just sounds like a classic songwriter whose sweet voice (on "Ol' 55") 
gradually gave way to hoarse croak. And "Looking for the Heart of Saturday Night" 
just sounds better the more you play it.
12/02/02

Hot Tuna, Hot Tuna, RCA 1970 (expanded CD reissue, 1996)
Last Tuesday night was election day in the U.S.A. Looking around for something suitable, 
this one's red-white-and-blue cover turns out to be oddly symbolic, as does the opening 
sequence of  "Hesitation Blues," "How Long Blues," and "Uncle Sam Blues." It turns out 
that the Nixon era shows us how sneakily subversive pop music can be. And I find it utterly
charming that Jorma Kaukonen always sings as if he has a sinus problem: the technical 
virtuosity is always in the guitar, not to mention Jack Casady's bass.
 11/08/02

Flatt and Scruggs, Songs of the Famous Carter Family, Columbia 1961
When they got together for this relaxed session with Mother Maybelle Carter, they 
did not know that they were about to become very, very famous with "Ballad of Jed 
Clampett" (the TV theme for the Beverly Hillbillies). With that fame and fortune, Columbia 
would pair them with a hot producer and a pile of contemporary pop songs that would 
eventually spur the defection of  Lester Flatt. This album was the (purist) calm before the 
(sellout) storm. It includes a resplendent rendition of " You Are My Flower." A better 
twenty-nine minutes of traditional American song is hard to find.
10/30/02

Jimmy Eat World, Clarity, Capitol 1999
How could I resist an album with a song called "Your New Aesthetic"? And is that cover 
image an allusion to the four ancient elements of earth, air, fire, and water? In other words, 
a quartet of brainy, back-to-basics rock and rollers bashing out heavenly little pop songs. 
Or so it goes for twelve tracks (the perfect number for a pop album). Track thirteen is a 
strange coda: over 16 minutes, its tape loops and feel of Simon-and-Garfunkel-on-acid 
took a bit of accommodation on my part. Now I hum along.
10/08/02

Mott the Hoople, Mott, Columbia 1973
I hear "All the Young Dudes" perhaps twice a year on the radio. Otherwise, these pioneers 
of glam rock are undeservedly forgotten (unless you count lead singer Ian Hunter's song 
"Cleveland Rocks," picked up on the Drew Carey Show). But Martin Scorsese knows a 
good thing when he hears it, and he opened Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore with a 
blast  of  the album's opener, "All the Way From Memphis." This album influenced the 
Clash and its over-the-top production underlies Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody." These 
guys knew how to be  brutal ("Violence") and melodic (but never saccharine). After leaving 
Mott to form Bad Company, guitarist Mick Ralphs would never again do anything 
this interesting.
 9/26/02

Sarah Vaughan, Sarah Vaughan with Clifford Brown, Verve 1954

Reissued on CD with one bonus track, her voice alternatively smoky 
and sweet, it sounds as if she's right there in the room with you. Maybe 
it's the time of year, but this version of "September Song" keeps pulling 
me back. It perfectly captures the twilight mood of summer on the cusp 
of autumn. Clifford Brown's trumpet deserves second billing (recording 
1954, Brown matches anything Miles Davis produced that year), but the 
surprise on many tracks is Herbie Mann's flute.
 9/13/02

King Sunny Adé, Ju Ju Music, Mango, 1982

I've been listening to this one, on and off, for twenty years. It never 
gets old, which is another way of saying that it's timeless. Despite 
up to 20 musicians going at once, it's layered but never cluttered. 
Talking drums are the cushion, the women's voices are on top, and 
in between there are guitars, guitars, and more guitars. Pedal steel 
guitar might sound like a postmodern joke, but the African sensibility 
is to recognize that it's the perfect way to bend pitch, perfectly 
complementing the talking drums. Oh, and King Sunny sings. 
9/6/02 

Linda Thompson, Fashionably Late, Rounder 2002

The title is cute, alluding to the 17 years since her last album. It 
could have been called Fashionably Morose,  because I don't 
know when I've heard a set of songs more infused with death, 
misogyny, and general misery. Actually, I do know: Harry Smith's 
Anthology of American Folk Music (1952). This isn't actual folk 
music, but an amazing simulation. With Nick Drake's string arranger, 
and Van Dyke Parks playing a mean accordion. 
8/19/02

Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, Live in New York City, 
Columbia 2001

20 tracks on 2 discs, but unless you're a true believer, this 
live album (his 3rd) has only one clear reason to exist. That's 
the song "American Skin (41 Shots)." Now if a studio 
version of that song had been included on Springsteen's most 
recent album, The Rising would have gained some genuine 
complexity, contrasting the heroism of New York City's finest 
with one their more questionable moments. Here, it's interesting 
to note the "41 Shots" is followed by "Lost in the Flood," an 
early Springsteen tale of urban life in which the cops also blow 
someone away.    
8/9/02

Ryan Adams, Gold,  Lost Highway 2001

Although I admired his earlier recordings with the band 
Whiskeytown, I was avoiding this album because of its 
strong associations with September 11. (The video for 
"New York, New York" simply annoys me.) But 
"Firecracker" has an undeniable hook and, melody aside, 
the slide guitar colorings are the real pleasure of  the slow 
ones. Who, exactly, is sideman Ethan Johns? He generally 
outshines bandleader Adams.
7/9/02

Bill Frisell, Blues Dream,  Elektra/Asylum 2001

True mood music for postmoderns? Technically, I suppose 
Frisell is a jazz guitarist. And jazz is supposed to be rooted 
in the blues. Here, Frisell addresses a question that few have 
bothered to ask: what does a genuine hybrid of jazz and 
country music sound like? As with any good jazz, it's evocative, 
haunting, and delightfully inventive. One regrets that Chet Atkins 
and Miles Davis never got together to make a different kind of 
fusion music.
7/1/02

The Concert for Bangladesh,  Apple 1972; CD 1991

Bob Dylan is coming to town soon and I'm listening to 
highlights of the back catalogue. On vinyl, Dylan's five 
songs occupy one side of this set of concert highlights. 
On compact disc, Dylan dominates disc two. Arguably, 
these are the strongest 25 minutes of live Dylan available 
anywhere. If you don't "get" the attraction of Dylan, start 
here. If you still don't get it, quit.
 6/28/02

Squeeze, Greatest Hits, A&M 1996

Why such an unimaginative title? After all, very few of
these were actually HITS. Instead, how about More
Songs about Dating and Infidelity? Or, drawing on
their one huge hit, Tempted by the Fruit of Another?
Drawing about equally from each of Squeeze's initial nine studio
albums, I bet I could play this at home, tell my teenage
kids that it's the Beatles, and they'd believe me. In fact,
as soon as one of them gets tired of their Beatles'
compilation CDs and asks me, "Dad, what does
Rubber Soul sound like?", I'll just put this on. 
5/28/02

Bob Marley, Exodus, Tuff Gong 1977; Expanded
CD remaster 2001

I owned this when it was new, and promptly sold it at a
used record store without ever listening to side two,
where Marley stuck the love songs that made him a
genuine superstar. I never got that far because side
one, the "rasta" side, seemed bland in comparison with
early albums like Catch a Fire and Burnin'. Now I
appreciate the idea that the groove may be more
important than the words. With a second disc of live
material and the once rare single "Punky Reggae
Party," the two Curtis Mayfield tracks emphasize that
reggae had surprisingly deep roots in the U.S.A. 
5/5/02

Galactic, We Love Em Tonight: Live at Tipitina's  Volcano 2001

Dominated by an unrelenting New Orleans groove, this live album 
serves up a dense gumbo of sound. Dominated by the funk grooves 
of the Crescent City's own Meters, there are also strong hints of 
both Tower of Power and Little Feat. Vocalist Theryl DeClouet is 
the band's weakest link, but vocals are almost beside the point here.   
 4/26/02

Etta James, Tell Mama: The Complete Muscle Shoals Sessions,  
MCA/Chess 1968; expanded CD MCA 2001

In the late 1960s, Muscle Shoals Alabama was music heaven, 
and Etta James was one of its angels. Rivaling Aretha Franklin for 
soulfullness, even "I Got You Babe" (yes, the Sonny and Cher tune) 
is completely believable.
 4/18/02

The Cocteau Twins, Blue Bell Knoll,  Capitol 1988

I've played this dozens of times in my office while I'm working. 
It never intrudes. After it's over, I cannot recall a single element of it.
This is wallpaper music par excellence.  4/4/02

Chappaquiddick Skyline, Sub Pop 1999

I suppose that this album answers the question of
what it sounds like when you combine a
country-roots sensibility with a Master's degree
in creative writing. A whisper of a voice floats
over subtle arrangements that recall the hushed
calm of the Velvet Underground's "Pale Blue
Eyes" and "Jesus." The opening song keeps
repeating "I hate my life." It should be
depressing, but here it's presented as a fact, as
something to move beyond. 3/15/02