Lal Meri
Lal Meri / self-titled
(Six Degrees)
First Appeared in The Music Box, July 2009, Volume 16, #7
Written by Douglas Heselgrave
Tue June 7, 2009, 10:30 PM CDT
Over the last few years, San Francisco’s Six Degrees has issued a number of interesting albums. From Cheb i Sabbah’s electronic re-creations of Indian devotional music to Niyaz’s flirtations with Sufi dance tunes, the company fearlessly has allowed its artists to explore the intersection between modern and traditional sounds from all corners of the globe.
At first glance, the self-titled debut from Lal Meri seemed to fit seamlessly into Six Degrees’ mold. For starters, Carmen Rizzo — the group’s primary writer, mixer, and producer — also works with Niyaz. In addition, the band appropriated its name from an ancient Sufi folk song. Finally, there is nothing in the resumés of Lal Meri’s other two members — multi-instrumentalist Ireesh Lal, who previously worked with Hot Sauce Johnson and Animastik, and Nancy Kaye, a jazz singer with two previous releases under her belt — to suggest that their collaborative effort would deviate significantly from Six Degrees’ standard formula. Yet, there is something in the alchemy of how these three creative forces make music together that has resulted in a wonderfully engaging world beat album.
Stylistically, Lal Meri’s songs are somewhat scattered. Somehow, though, they manage to hang together in a compositional sense while maintaining the interest of the listener. This is partly due to the fact that most of the tracks on Lal Meri’s eponymous endeavor are sung in English. To this end, Kaye is a very accomplished and confident vocalist who uses her jazz training to slide seamlessly in and out of Middle Eastern motifs. At times, she sounds a bit like Beth Orton — the British singer/songwriter who sparked a movement in the late 1990s by successfully mixing folk and electronica. At other moments, Kaye’s voice is reminiscent of a cabaret singer from the ’50s who has been trapped in a Turkish border town for so long that her music has started to echo the local Sufis in the corner coffee bar.
Perhaps without intending it, Lal Meri has found the missing link between Western European and Middle Eastern popular song. On every one of the 11 tracks on its debut, listeners can hear stylistic mélanges that never sound forced or feel poorly conceived. On some cuts like More Songs for the Moon, warm, bebop-influenced bass lines encounter ouds and tablas. Elsewhere, as Kaye convincingly sings in a Gazal style, the title tune plays like a lost Bollywood classic. On Give Me Your Light, trumpet phrases that were drawn from Miles Davis’ repertoire intersect with fractured, dub-influenced verses, all of which resolves in gentle, trip-hop grooves.
In the end, none of this deconstruction adequately describes the music that the members of Lal Meri have worked so hard to create. More than most other bands of its type, the group has successfully used its disparate influences to concoct a style of music that is unique and all its own.
This article originally appeared at www.musicbox-online.com
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Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
World Music Roundup June 2009
World Music Round-Up: June 2009
First Appeared in The Music Box, June 2009, Volume 16, #6
Written by Douglas Heselgrave
Mon June 22, 2009, 04:30 AM CDT
The Idan Raichel Project
Within My Walls
(Cumbancha)
Within My Walls, the second album from Israeli keyboard player/composer Idan Raichel, follows the same formula as his groundbreaking, self-titled debut. Once again, Raichel essentially acts as a facilitator. To craft the endeavor, he asked artists from all of the cultural and ethnic regions of his country to join him in the studio to create music that is full of optimism and hope. Reflecting a mélange of styles that ranges from traditional Jewish folk songs to Ethiopian trance music, Raichel’s compositions successfully balance the diverse influences of the gathered musicians to produce songs that succeed on their own terms.
Of course, Raichel’s approach inevitably means that some of the tracks on Within My Walls work better than others. While he must be commended for the inclusiveness of his ego-free style, there also is a tendency on a few of the album’s cuts for his encompassing keyboard melodies to drift into the realm of new-age fare. When Raichel has his mojo working, all the pieces come together. Some of the cuts, such as the brilliant Todas las Palabras (All the Words), are exhilarating.
In the troubled region of the Middle East, Raichel has become an icon whose cultural relevance is at least as important as his musical status. His work represents and demonstrates tolerance, hope, and compassion. If everyone shared Raichel’s global vision, the world would be a much happier place.
Lee "Scratch" Perry
Repentance
(Narnack)
Over the past 40 years, Lee "Scratch" Perry has done a lot to change the sound of modern music. As a result, whenever he releases a new album, it inevitably is judged on the basis of everything else he has accomplished. Repentance, Perry’s latest endeavor, is a collaboration with up-and-coming producer Andrew WK. Unlike many of his recent efforts, which seem to be collections of random thoughts, Repentance feels as if it has been carefully planned. It is absolutely breathtaking how the material on the outing runs the gamut from roots reggae to disco and from soul to techno.
After several prolific decades in the business, Perry stunningly remains capable of conjuring rhythms that are out of this world. He is at the top of his game throughout Repentance, and it’s wonderful to hear him actually give everything he has to his vocals instead of relying solely on the stream-of-consciousness raps that have become his trademark. Repentance demonstrates that it’s too early to count Perry out. After all, how many other septuagenarians not only could sing "Pussy come/Pussy go/Jesus Christ is eternal" with immense passion but also make it work in a song?
Midival Punditz
Hello Hello
(Six Degrees)
Midival Punditz is a New Delhi-based electronica duo that successfully merges aspects of traditional Indian fare with modern techno music to achieve a sound that is increasingly its own. Formed in 1997 by recording engineers Gaurav Raina and Tapan Raj, Midival Punditz initially garnered attention by touring with Bill Laswell and Zakir Hussain’s collaborative project Tabla Beat Science as well as with Karsh Kale. Over the years, the group has refined its jagged, hard-edged persona, making room alongside its synthesized beats and vocals for classical Indian textures, such as bamboo flutes and dhols.
Midival Punditz seems to delight in its approach, and this, in turn, lends a joyously playful air to all of the tracks on its latest set Hello Hello. The best song on the album is the band’s enthusiastic, beat-infused cover of Led Zeppelin’s Four Sticks. Here, the faux-Indian melodies that originally were conjured by Robert Plant and Jimmy Page have been carried to their logical conclusion. The results are dizzying. Other standout songs include the gentle, chill-out soundscapes explored in Naina Laagey and Drifting. Tunes like Desolate and Sun Mere Sanam are equally enjoyable because of how well the group bends its style around modern dance music. For certain, Hello Hello is Midival Punditz’s most compelling outing yet
These reviews originally appeared at www.musicbox-online.com
Please support Musicbox by subscribing. Subscriptions are free.
http://www.musicbox-online.com/dh/review/06222009/raichel-perry.html#ixzz0JAqWow5u&D
First Appeared in The Music Box, June 2009, Volume 16, #6
Written by Douglas Heselgrave
Mon June 22, 2009, 04:30 AM CDT
The Idan Raichel Project
Within My Walls
(Cumbancha)
Within My Walls, the second album from Israeli keyboard player/composer Idan Raichel, follows the same formula as his groundbreaking, self-titled debut. Once again, Raichel essentially acts as a facilitator. To craft the endeavor, he asked artists from all of the cultural and ethnic regions of his country to join him in the studio to create music that is full of optimism and hope. Reflecting a mélange of styles that ranges from traditional Jewish folk songs to Ethiopian trance music, Raichel’s compositions successfully balance the diverse influences of the gathered musicians to produce songs that succeed on their own terms.
Of course, Raichel’s approach inevitably means that some of the tracks on Within My Walls work better than others. While he must be commended for the inclusiveness of his ego-free style, there also is a tendency on a few of the album’s cuts for his encompassing keyboard melodies to drift into the realm of new-age fare. When Raichel has his mojo working, all the pieces come together. Some of the cuts, such as the brilliant Todas las Palabras (All the Words), are exhilarating.
In the troubled region of the Middle East, Raichel has become an icon whose cultural relevance is at least as important as his musical status. His work represents and demonstrates tolerance, hope, and compassion. If everyone shared Raichel’s global vision, the world would be a much happier place.
Lee "Scratch" Perry
Repentance
(Narnack)
Over the past 40 years, Lee "Scratch" Perry has done a lot to change the sound of modern music. As a result, whenever he releases a new album, it inevitably is judged on the basis of everything else he has accomplished. Repentance, Perry’s latest endeavor, is a collaboration with up-and-coming producer Andrew WK. Unlike many of his recent efforts, which seem to be collections of random thoughts, Repentance feels as if it has been carefully planned. It is absolutely breathtaking how the material on the outing runs the gamut from roots reggae to disco and from soul to techno.
After several prolific decades in the business, Perry stunningly remains capable of conjuring rhythms that are out of this world. He is at the top of his game throughout Repentance, and it’s wonderful to hear him actually give everything he has to his vocals instead of relying solely on the stream-of-consciousness raps that have become his trademark. Repentance demonstrates that it’s too early to count Perry out. After all, how many other septuagenarians not only could sing "Pussy come/Pussy go/Jesus Christ is eternal" with immense passion but also make it work in a song?
Midival Punditz
Hello Hello
(Six Degrees)
Midival Punditz is a New Delhi-based electronica duo that successfully merges aspects of traditional Indian fare with modern techno music to achieve a sound that is increasingly its own. Formed in 1997 by recording engineers Gaurav Raina and Tapan Raj, Midival Punditz initially garnered attention by touring with Bill Laswell and Zakir Hussain’s collaborative project Tabla Beat Science as well as with Karsh Kale. Over the years, the group has refined its jagged, hard-edged persona, making room alongside its synthesized beats and vocals for classical Indian textures, such as bamboo flutes and dhols.
Midival Punditz seems to delight in its approach, and this, in turn, lends a joyously playful air to all of the tracks on its latest set Hello Hello. The best song on the album is the band’s enthusiastic, beat-infused cover of Led Zeppelin’s Four Sticks. Here, the faux-Indian melodies that originally were conjured by Robert Plant and Jimmy Page have been carried to their logical conclusion. The results are dizzying. Other standout songs include the gentle, chill-out soundscapes explored in Naina Laagey and Drifting. Tunes like Desolate and Sun Mere Sanam are equally enjoyable because of how well the group bends its style around modern dance music. For certain, Hello Hello is Midival Punditz’s most compelling outing yet
These reviews originally appeared at www.musicbox-online.com
Please support Musicbox by subscribing. Subscriptions are free.
http://www.musicbox-online.com/dh/review/06222009/raichel-perry.html#ixzz0JAqWow5u&D
Monday, June 8, 2009
Bare Bones
Madeleine Peyroux
Bare Bones
(Rounder)
First Appeared in The Music Box, June 2009, Volume 16, #6
Written by Douglas Heselgrave
Mon June 8, 2009, 05:30 AM CDT
In many ways, there is very little to distinguish Bare Bones, Madeleine Peyroux’s fourth album, from any of her previous releases. Once again, her instantly recognizable, Billie Holiday-infused vocals have been placed front-and-center, and she also is backed by a sympathetic band that never threatens to upstage her. If one were content simply to listen to Bare Bones in the background, it would be difficult to find anything exceptional within any of the set’s 11 tracks. At times, the whole effort sounds so innocuous that it’s no wonder every Starbucks in the world seems to have it playing constantly.
Yet, there is more to Bare Bones than meets the ear. It’s true that Peyroux still embraces the faux-bohemian coffeehouse sound of her earlier endeavors. This time, however, she has written or co-written all of the songs. While it’s impossible to compete with Leonard Cohen, Hank Williams, and Bob Dylan — all of whose work she has interpreted in the past — it is to her credit that she has stepped out of their shadows to be judged on her own terms. Thankfully, her compositions are, for the most part, rather good. They not only seem to reflect the genuine experiences of her life, but they also complement the kind of romanticized, fin-de-siecle gloominess that typically has characterized her recordings.
Bare Bones is filled with tales of betrayal and love gone wrong. For the first time, however, Peyroux has stretched beyond her comfort zone. Escaping from the carefully constructed vocal style of her previous efforts, she sings her new material with an air of immediacy. Peyroux sounds as if she has been through a lot, and she often seems to want to set the record straight with her confessional songs that cut close to the bone, even if they are sometimes marred by a clumsy word or phrase.
This emphasis in her material shouldn’t be surprising to anyone who has read the music gossip columns in recent years, where Peyroux has been something of a fixture. She was a teenage busker in Paris, and after Careless Love became a modest hit, she suffered a breakdown that caused her to vanish on the eve of a European tour. She appears to have overcome whatever fear of success she previously had harbored, and with Bare Bones, she clearly declares her intention to be taken seriously as an artist. To this end, she has chosen to work, once again, with Larry Klein, whose low-key production style has been responsible for creating her signature sound. His bass playing establishes a warm bottom-end around which the drum and guitar accompaniments can dance. Tasteful instrumental contributions from pianist Jim Beard and guitarist Walter Becker come together to forge a musical backdrop that is appealing, if not exactly groundbreaking.
The best songs on Bare Bones include the introspective Instead as well as the revealing — and decidedly Cohen-esque — River of Tears. Elsewhere, Our Lady of Pigalle pays tribute to Peyroux’s days in Paris, and it effectively juxtaposes the love of the Virgin Mary with the heat of desire. The bottom line, though, is that Bare Bones is merely a transitional album for Peyroux. She acknowledges the approach that has served her well. Yet, she also has tried to push herself forward by writing her own material. To create a truly memorable recording, however, Peyroux must take more risks and explore a wider sonic range. With any luck, Bare Bones will be the beginning of a journey to express herself more freely.
This article originally appeared at www.musicbox-online.com
Please support MB. Subscriptions are free.
http://www.musicbox-online.com/dh/review/06082009/peyroux-bare-bones.html#ixzz0HqwQqp7Q&D
Bare Bones
(Rounder)
First Appeared in The Music Box, June 2009, Volume 16, #6
Written by Douglas Heselgrave
Mon June 8, 2009, 05:30 AM CDT
In many ways, there is very little to distinguish Bare Bones, Madeleine Peyroux’s fourth album, from any of her previous releases. Once again, her instantly recognizable, Billie Holiday-infused vocals have been placed front-and-center, and she also is backed by a sympathetic band that never threatens to upstage her. If one were content simply to listen to Bare Bones in the background, it would be difficult to find anything exceptional within any of the set’s 11 tracks. At times, the whole effort sounds so innocuous that it’s no wonder every Starbucks in the world seems to have it playing constantly.
Yet, there is more to Bare Bones than meets the ear. It’s true that Peyroux still embraces the faux-bohemian coffeehouse sound of her earlier endeavors. This time, however, she has written or co-written all of the songs. While it’s impossible to compete with Leonard Cohen, Hank Williams, and Bob Dylan — all of whose work she has interpreted in the past — it is to her credit that she has stepped out of their shadows to be judged on her own terms. Thankfully, her compositions are, for the most part, rather good. They not only seem to reflect the genuine experiences of her life, but they also complement the kind of romanticized, fin-de-siecle gloominess that typically has characterized her recordings.
Bare Bones is filled with tales of betrayal and love gone wrong. For the first time, however, Peyroux has stretched beyond her comfort zone. Escaping from the carefully constructed vocal style of her previous efforts, she sings her new material with an air of immediacy. Peyroux sounds as if she has been through a lot, and she often seems to want to set the record straight with her confessional songs that cut close to the bone, even if they are sometimes marred by a clumsy word or phrase.
This emphasis in her material shouldn’t be surprising to anyone who has read the music gossip columns in recent years, where Peyroux has been something of a fixture. She was a teenage busker in Paris, and after Careless Love became a modest hit, she suffered a breakdown that caused her to vanish on the eve of a European tour. She appears to have overcome whatever fear of success she previously had harbored, and with Bare Bones, she clearly declares her intention to be taken seriously as an artist. To this end, she has chosen to work, once again, with Larry Klein, whose low-key production style has been responsible for creating her signature sound. His bass playing establishes a warm bottom-end around which the drum and guitar accompaniments can dance. Tasteful instrumental contributions from pianist Jim Beard and guitarist Walter Becker come together to forge a musical backdrop that is appealing, if not exactly groundbreaking.
The best songs on Bare Bones include the introspective Instead as well as the revealing — and decidedly Cohen-esque — River of Tears. Elsewhere, Our Lady of Pigalle pays tribute to Peyroux’s days in Paris, and it effectively juxtaposes the love of the Virgin Mary with the heat of desire. The bottom line, though, is that Bare Bones is merely a transitional album for Peyroux. She acknowledges the approach that has served her well. Yet, she also has tried to push herself forward by writing her own material. To create a truly memorable recording, however, Peyroux must take more risks and explore a wider sonic range. With any luck, Bare Bones will be the beginning of a journey to express herself more freely.
This article originally appeared at www.musicbox-online.com
Please support MB. Subscriptions are free.
http://www.musicbox-online.com/dh/review/06082009/peyroux-bare-bones.html#ixzz0HqwQqp7Q&D
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Tchamantche by Rokia Traore
Rokia Traore
Tchamantche
(Nonesuch)
First Appeared in The Music Box, June 2009, Volume 16, #6
Written by Douglas Heselgrave
Wed June 3, 2009, 04:30 AM CDT
Rokia Traore is one of the most underappreciated singers in the realm of African music. This, however, should change for the better in the wake of her excellent new album Tchamantche. Although she originally is from Mali, Traore has an international perspective. This stems from her father’s service as a diplomat, which forced her family to move from locale to locale around the globe. Consequently, the palette from which she draws is more diverse than the one used by her West African counterparts.
In addition to working on Tchamantche, Traore also has written a musical based upon the life of Mozart, and she has participated in a traveling revue devoted to exploring Billie Holiday’s canon. Not surprisingly, then, she often conducts stylistic experiments by inserting jazz and classical motifs into her compositions. Traore also plays the guitar, an instrument that is not usually deemed suitable for an African woman to play. These unusual career choices undoubtedly account for the fact that she has not received the acclaim that she long has deserved.
Unlike Traore’s other endeavors, which have featured her either accompanying herself on an acoustic guitar or backed by a traditional African ensemble, Tchamantche is an exercise in electric minimalism. Filled with her fuzzy-sounding, Gretsch-guitar tones, the songs on Tchamantche often evoke John Lee Hooker’s folk-blues recordings from the 1950s. A luxurious sense of space emanates from the recording, and each note that Traore delivers resonates with warmth, while hanging poignantly in the air. This maximizes the emotional impact she makes.
Backed by a European rhythm section — which thankfully doesn’t fall into the trap of trying to sound like a Malian outfit — Traore offers a very tasty collection of stripped-down, minor-key blues songs, which gain momentum and complexity as Tchamantche progresses. Likewise, the rhythms become more seductive and uplifting. Tchamantche begins with a hushed invitation to intimacy, but by its final track, it has evolved into a full-fledged celebration of life in all of its glory and sorrow.
It is impossible not to admire Traore’s audacity as she seems to delight in inverting formulas. For example, she uses a classical harp instead of a traditional kora to generate a wash of string sounds. Like most artists from Mali, Traore sings primarily in French and her local dialect, but the inclusion of her cover of George and Ira Gershwin’s The Man I Love — a tune that typically is associated with Holiday — demonstrates just how creative and innovative she has become. Traore’s take on this oft-recorded standard is bizarre, insightful, and beautiful beyond words.
Without a doubt, Traore is an artist to watch. With Tchamantche, she has proven that she thoroughly understands and honors her own traditions. Yet, she also has seen beyond them to create her own style and means of expression. Exciting and innovative, Tchamantche is a slow-burning album that reveals itself gradually through repeated exposure
This article originally appeared at www.musicbox-online.
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Read more: http://www.musicbox-online.com/dh/review/06032009/traore-tchamantche.html#ixzz0HNgCpF73&B
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
My Walking Stick
My Walking Stick
By Jim Byrnes
There aren’t many albums like My Walking Stick being recorded today. Then again, there aren’t many singers like Jim Byrnes around anymore either. Originally from St. Louis, Missouri, Byrnes has had a long career as an actor and voice over performer in his adopted home in Vancouver, Canada, but regardless of what else he’s had to do to make ends meet, his real love has always been singing the blues.
As anyone who’s followed the music knows, it’s not an easy thing to make a living as a blues performer these days. The music has been so diluted and distorted over the years that it’s been all but submerged under the weight of its own clichés. In fact, it’s sometimes difficult to remember that the blues was once a vital and contemporary art form that did not only appeal to a specialist niche market as it does today. The blues originated in the rural south at the turn of the twentieth century as African American musicians wrote and performed songs that reflected the hard luck stories and cultural values of their community. The genre’s scope gradually expanded and maintained its credibility as the subject matter of the songs began to express the reality of urban black people. Unfortunately, by the early nineteen sixties, the blues began to diminish in popularity among its original audience as the more contemporary sounds of rhythm and blues and soul music captured the imaginations of a younger generation.
Around this time the blues torch was passed to a younger generation of British artists like John Mayall and Eric Clapton who were attracted to the gritty quality of music performed by artists like Robert Johnson and Muddy Waters. They created their own original songs based on the structures of these founding artists and introduced a whole new generation of mostly white music fans to the sounds of the blues. For this generation, the blues universe populated by back door men, good time girls and tales of cold blooded murder was like music from another world, and aging first generation performers like Mississippi John Hurt and Howlin’ Wolf revitalized their careers as they played before new audiences in North America and Europe. But, by the end of the sixties as groups like Cream and the Allman Brothers morphed blues themes into a heavy rock context, the genre had just about played itself out for the second time. In the eighties, artists like Bonnie Raitt and Robert Cray tried to revitalize the blues by bringing it into the mainstream and writing songs that more accurately reflected the concerns of a modern cosmopolitan world. As honourable as their intentions were and as necessary as these innovations may have been, the music created by blues artists during this time was often all but bloodless. As a result, the art form began to die as performers divided into two camps – the blues preservationists who still played like it was Mississippi in 1935 and the blues apologists who tried to fit a square peg into a round hole by making their songs radio friendly.
For most of his career, Jim Byrnes’ music has shifted uneasily between these two extremes. As a younger performer, he recorded albums that had their foundation in the blues, but the purity of the music he wrote was often compromised by the desire to sell records and have a presence on the radio. As a result, many of the songs that were captivating to hear in a live setting had their rough edges smoothed away in the recording studio in order to satisfy the dictates of the pop music industry. In an effort to be radio friendly, much of what was appealing about Byrnes was lost and for many years his essence was never successfully captured on tape. Like many other artists, Byrnes became a singer whose magic could only be truly experienced live in a club or concert hall.
All of this began to change in 2004 when Byrnes met Steve Dawson, a young Vancouver roots performer and producer who understood how to create music that sounded fresh and contemporary while still evoking the timeless feel of the blues. The two men hit it off right away and set to work on what became ‘Fresh Horses - an acoustically driven rootsy blues album that played to all of Byrnes’ considerable strengths. On it, Byrnes played a mixture of originals as well as nailing down versions of songs by artists ranging from Bob Dylan to the Mississippi Sheiks. With ‘Fresh Horses’, the sound that had long eluded Byrnes in the studio gelled, and after decades in the music business, his recorded output began to walk in step with his natural talent. The two men followed up with ‘House of Refuge’ in 2006, an even stronger album that paid tribute to the connections between blues and gospel and gave Byrnes a chance to really flex the soul embedded in his voice.
‘My Walking Stick’ doesn’t stray very much from the formula established by Byrnes and Dawson’s last two outings; rather it extends their working relationship into deeper territory to create what may be the best sounding album in Byrnes’ career. Like T Bone Burnett’s work with BB King and Bruce Cockburn, Dawson’s production style is instantly recognizable, yet unlike other distinctive producers such as Daniel Lanois, he has the ability to surround a veteran artist with rich and full sonic textures that complement rather than distract from the songs. The sound Byrnes and Dawson created for this album is deep and textured, yet the music resonates with roots music integrity. Every instrument is crisp, clear and carefully placed within the mix. There is nothing superfluous in any of the songs with treatments and effects kept to a minimum. Where the aforementioned Lanois often has a tendency to over-produce and create music that is swampy and thick, Dawson supports Byrnes with a sound that is sculptural, yet loose and nimble at the same time. This is a collection of songs that never forgets to put on its dancing shoes.
It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to assert that My Walking Stick provides a blueprint of how to make a blues album for the twenty first century. The vibe that Dawson creates forms the perfect bedrock for Byrnes’ songs as he conjures sounds that evoke the ambience of old dirty blues 78’s and 1950’s Chess Records singles. Using state of the art recording techniques that somehow maintain the warmth of an analogue recording, My Walking Stick sounds vintage and contemporary at the same time in much the same way Dylan’s most recent albums do.
Byrnes accompanies himself on acoustic guitar throughout the album, and the musicians that support him sound completely at home playing his music. Though Dawson has enlisted the help of some of the best west coast studio musicians to bring the project to life, they never sound like hired guns. They play with an ease and authority that sounds as if they’re a band that’s been playing together for years. The rhythm section consisting of Matt Chamberlain and Steve Hodges on drums with Keith Lowe bringing up the bottom end on bass, create a propulsive rumble that is just perfect for the textured acoustic sounds that swirl around Byrnes’ voice. Add to that the funky sounds of Chris Gestrin’s organ and keyboards and the multitude of strings – dobros, crunching guitars and galloping country blues picking – played by Steve Dawson and it’s hard to remember hearing a better sounding blues album.
Of course, the whole album is grounded by Byrnes’ smooth, easy and confident vocal delivery. His supreme naturalness always makes the lyrics sound true as he carefully chooses songs that are easy for him to inhabit emotionally. He sounds perfectly at home singing gospel-tinged numbers like ‘What are they doing in Heaven today?’ On this track and several others such as ‘Looking for a Love’ Byrnes is reunited with the Sojourners – a gospel trio whose thrilling back up vocals made ‘House of Refuge’ such a powerful album a few years back. Together, they continue to gloriously explore all of the places where the blues and gospel intersect. To hear Byrnes and the Sojourners sing together is almost enough to divert the crustiest of old heathens off of the wicked path of sin and onto the path of righteousness. Other highlights include ‘My Walking Stick’, the bizarre title track which Byrnes manages to pull off without the slightest touch of camp or irony. It’s often difficult to choose the best track on an album, but for my money, the slow burning version of ‘Ophelia’ is a strong contender. On it, Byrnes unearths layers of erotic despair embedded in the song that the Band only hinted at.
As I remarked at the beginning, it’s hard to make a credible blues album in today’s musical environment. Yet, with ‘My Walking Stick’ Byrnes has crafted a collection of songs that can stand up anywhere. It is an instantly likeable album full of musical integrity and dynamic performances. After more than four decades in the music business, it sounds as if Byrnes is just hitting his stride.
By Jim Byrnes
There aren’t many albums like My Walking Stick being recorded today. Then again, there aren’t many singers like Jim Byrnes around anymore either. Originally from St. Louis, Missouri, Byrnes has had a long career as an actor and voice over performer in his adopted home in Vancouver, Canada, but regardless of what else he’s had to do to make ends meet, his real love has always been singing the blues.
As anyone who’s followed the music knows, it’s not an easy thing to make a living as a blues performer these days. The music has been so diluted and distorted over the years that it’s been all but submerged under the weight of its own clichés. In fact, it’s sometimes difficult to remember that the blues was once a vital and contemporary art form that did not only appeal to a specialist niche market as it does today. The blues originated in the rural south at the turn of the twentieth century as African American musicians wrote and performed songs that reflected the hard luck stories and cultural values of their community. The genre’s scope gradually expanded and maintained its credibility as the subject matter of the songs began to express the reality of urban black people. Unfortunately, by the early nineteen sixties, the blues began to diminish in popularity among its original audience as the more contemporary sounds of rhythm and blues and soul music captured the imaginations of a younger generation.
Around this time the blues torch was passed to a younger generation of British artists like John Mayall and Eric Clapton who were attracted to the gritty quality of music performed by artists like Robert Johnson and Muddy Waters. They created their own original songs based on the structures of these founding artists and introduced a whole new generation of mostly white music fans to the sounds of the blues. For this generation, the blues universe populated by back door men, good time girls and tales of cold blooded murder was like music from another world, and aging first generation performers like Mississippi John Hurt and Howlin’ Wolf revitalized their careers as they played before new audiences in North America and Europe. But, by the end of the sixties as groups like Cream and the Allman Brothers morphed blues themes into a heavy rock context, the genre had just about played itself out for the second time. In the eighties, artists like Bonnie Raitt and Robert Cray tried to revitalize the blues by bringing it into the mainstream and writing songs that more accurately reflected the concerns of a modern cosmopolitan world. As honourable as their intentions were and as necessary as these innovations may have been, the music created by blues artists during this time was often all but bloodless. As a result, the art form began to die as performers divided into two camps – the blues preservationists who still played like it was Mississippi in 1935 and the blues apologists who tried to fit a square peg into a round hole by making their songs radio friendly.
For most of his career, Jim Byrnes’ music has shifted uneasily between these two extremes. As a younger performer, he recorded albums that had their foundation in the blues, but the purity of the music he wrote was often compromised by the desire to sell records and have a presence on the radio. As a result, many of the songs that were captivating to hear in a live setting had their rough edges smoothed away in the recording studio in order to satisfy the dictates of the pop music industry. In an effort to be radio friendly, much of what was appealing about Byrnes was lost and for many years his essence was never successfully captured on tape. Like many other artists, Byrnes became a singer whose magic could only be truly experienced live in a club or concert hall.
All of this began to change in 2004 when Byrnes met Steve Dawson, a young Vancouver roots performer and producer who understood how to create music that sounded fresh and contemporary while still evoking the timeless feel of the blues. The two men hit it off right away and set to work on what became ‘Fresh Horses - an acoustically driven rootsy blues album that played to all of Byrnes’ considerable strengths. On it, Byrnes played a mixture of originals as well as nailing down versions of songs by artists ranging from Bob Dylan to the Mississippi Sheiks. With ‘Fresh Horses’, the sound that had long eluded Byrnes in the studio gelled, and after decades in the music business, his recorded output began to walk in step with his natural talent. The two men followed up with ‘House of Refuge’ in 2006, an even stronger album that paid tribute to the connections between blues and gospel and gave Byrnes a chance to really flex the soul embedded in his voice.
‘My Walking Stick’ doesn’t stray very much from the formula established by Byrnes and Dawson’s last two outings; rather it extends their working relationship into deeper territory to create what may be the best sounding album in Byrnes’ career. Like T Bone Burnett’s work with BB King and Bruce Cockburn, Dawson’s production style is instantly recognizable, yet unlike other distinctive producers such as Daniel Lanois, he has the ability to surround a veteran artist with rich and full sonic textures that complement rather than distract from the songs. The sound Byrnes and Dawson created for this album is deep and textured, yet the music resonates with roots music integrity. Every instrument is crisp, clear and carefully placed within the mix. There is nothing superfluous in any of the songs with treatments and effects kept to a minimum. Where the aforementioned Lanois often has a tendency to over-produce and create music that is swampy and thick, Dawson supports Byrnes with a sound that is sculptural, yet loose and nimble at the same time. This is a collection of songs that never forgets to put on its dancing shoes.
It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to assert that My Walking Stick provides a blueprint of how to make a blues album for the twenty first century. The vibe that Dawson creates forms the perfect bedrock for Byrnes’ songs as he conjures sounds that evoke the ambience of old dirty blues 78’s and 1950’s Chess Records singles. Using state of the art recording techniques that somehow maintain the warmth of an analogue recording, My Walking Stick sounds vintage and contemporary at the same time in much the same way Dylan’s most recent albums do.
Byrnes accompanies himself on acoustic guitar throughout the album, and the musicians that support him sound completely at home playing his music. Though Dawson has enlisted the help of some of the best west coast studio musicians to bring the project to life, they never sound like hired guns. They play with an ease and authority that sounds as if they’re a band that’s been playing together for years. The rhythm section consisting of Matt Chamberlain and Steve Hodges on drums with Keith Lowe bringing up the bottom end on bass, create a propulsive rumble that is just perfect for the textured acoustic sounds that swirl around Byrnes’ voice. Add to that the funky sounds of Chris Gestrin’s organ and keyboards and the multitude of strings – dobros, crunching guitars and galloping country blues picking – played by Steve Dawson and it’s hard to remember hearing a better sounding blues album.
Of course, the whole album is grounded by Byrnes’ smooth, easy and confident vocal delivery. His supreme naturalness always makes the lyrics sound true as he carefully chooses songs that are easy for him to inhabit emotionally. He sounds perfectly at home singing gospel-tinged numbers like ‘What are they doing in Heaven today?’ On this track and several others such as ‘Looking for a Love’ Byrnes is reunited with the Sojourners – a gospel trio whose thrilling back up vocals made ‘House of Refuge’ such a powerful album a few years back. Together, they continue to gloriously explore all of the places where the blues and gospel intersect. To hear Byrnes and the Sojourners sing together is almost enough to divert the crustiest of old heathens off of the wicked path of sin and onto the path of righteousness. Other highlights include ‘My Walking Stick’, the bizarre title track which Byrnes manages to pull off without the slightest touch of camp or irony. It’s often difficult to choose the best track on an album, but for my money, the slow burning version of ‘Ophelia’ is a strong contender. On it, Byrnes unearths layers of erotic despair embedded in the song that the Band only hinted at.
As I remarked at the beginning, it’s hard to make a credible blues album in today’s musical environment. Yet, with ‘My Walking Stick’ Byrnes has crafted a collection of songs that can stand up anywhere. It is an instantly likeable album full of musical integrity and dynamic performances. After more than four decades in the music business, it sounds as if Byrnes is just hitting his stride.
Deer in the Night
Po' Girl
Deer in the Night
(Po' Girl)
First Appeared in The Music Box, May 2009, Volume 16, #5
Written by Douglas Heselgrave
Wed May 27, 2009, 06:30 AM CDT
Po’ Girl has undergone its share of changes in the last few years, but rather than sinking the outfit, they have spurred its growth and made it stronger. The band originally started as a side project that united The Be Good Tanyas’ Trish Klein and Fear of Drinking’s Allison Russell. Assuming a life of its own, Po’ Girl not only has managed to outlast both of its predecessors, but it also has become one of the most interesting and diverse roots-oriented outfits touring and recording today.
Longtime fans of Po’ Girl quickly will identify the most obvious difference between Deer in the Night and the group’s trio of earlier endeavors: Both Klein and multi-instrumentalist Diona Davies have left the band, which leaves Russell as the only founding member to remain. The good news is that Klein and Davies’ replacements — vocalist/guitarist Awna Teixeira and virtuoso string player Benny Sidelinger — fit beautifully into the ethos of Po’ Girl’s genre-hopping minstrel-show, which unequivocally makes Deer in the Night the ensemble’s best album yet.
Po’ Girl’s influences typically have run the gamut from hip-hop to vaudeville. Not surprisingly, its approach has been so wide-sweeping in scope that it occasionally has threatened to derail the band’s melodies. Teixeira and Sidelinger, however, have the vocal and instrumental chops that are necessary for smoothly traversing this terrain. Consequently, they evenhandedly carry the songs across a broad range of musical ideas.
Lyrically, Po’ Girl’s songs have never been stronger. The group now sounds as if it has blossomed to the point where it credibly can deliver the hard-luck narratives that it has been sculpting since the release of its self-titled debut in 2003. The material on Deer in the Night exudes degrees of authority and authenticity that sometimes have eluded the outfit in the past. This time around, there’s something ineffable in Russell’s vocal delivery, and it allows her to convey the kind of understanding of her subject matter that can only be provided by the experiences of life. As a result, the characters who inhabit her songs have more depth, and the stories that Russell fashions around them ultimately become three-dimensional. Tracks like No Shame, a harrowing tale of sexual abuse, come across as developed, mature, and masterful.
Like Klein, Teixeira adds country-imbued dimensions to Po’ Girl’s style. Otherwise, the similarities between the musicians end there. While Klein had a lovely sense of melody as well as a pleasant voice, she largely remained in the background. In contrast, Teixeira’s contributions are placed front-and-center throughout Deer in the Night. She is a powerful yet nuanced vocalist whose contributions, such as Gandy Dancer and Dig Me a Hole, are among the best tracks on the effort.
Po’ Girl arose amidst the popular, alt-country scene at the turn of the millennium. Where many of the group’s peers either have altered their focus or faded away, Po’ Girl has proven itself to be remarkably resilient. Transitions can be difficult, of course, and frequently, they have sounded the death knell for fledgling outfits. Yet, Po’ Girl has managed the difficult task of retaining everything that was compelling and beautiful about its original lineup. At the same time, it also has made the sorts of decisions that will assure its continued artistic growth. In other words, with Deer in the Night, Po’ Girl has proven that it has what it takes to survive for the long haul.
This article originally appeared at www.musicbox-online.com at http://www.musicbox-online.com/dh/review/05272009/po-girl-deer.html
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Read more: http://www.musicbox-online.com/dh/review/05272009/po-girl-deer.html#ixzz0GikSoby9&B
Friday, May 15, 2009
Neil finds a fork in the road
Neil Young
Fork in the Road
(Reprise)
First Appeared in The Music Box, May 2009, Volume 16, #5
Written by Douglas Heselgrave
Fri May 15, 2009, 03:30 AM CDT
Fork in the Road is so deliberately noncommercial that it immediately recalls the efforts over which Geffen Records sued Neil Young in the 1980s. Of course, the act of putting together a sequence of music that is designed for a niche market isn’t inherently a bad thing. A lot of the best albums that have ever been created initially struggled to be heard in a sympathetic light when they hit the market. In some cases, artists have been so far ahead of the times that it has taken years for the public to appreciate what was being offered.
Young has grappled with this dynamic for much of his professional life. Tonight’s the Night now is considered to be among the best endeavors in his canon, but when it first was issued in 1975, it was all but eviscerated by hostile critics. Unfortunately, Fork in the Road will not meet the same fate as Tonight’s the Night. There is no hint in the album’s 10 tracks that could be considered groundbreaking or even particularly worth hearing. Even worse, while the other minor efforts in Young’s considerable canon — such as Trans, Everybody’s Rocking, and This Note’s for You — contain at least a few moments of brilliance, it is hard to imagine Fork in the Road having any lasting value.
In the past, Young’s albums have appeared to be fatally flawed, only to gain resonance at a later date. Mirror Ball, his sloppy collaboration with Pearl Jam, for example, has since shed its grating textures to become something epic and vigorous. Likewise, the Booker T.-fed doo-wop that flows through many of the songs on Are You Passionate? now gives the album a presence that is uplifting and life-affirming. Therefore, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that opinions about Young’s work will shift over time.
Perhaps the biggest obstacle that Young faces these days is the notion that he has a core audience that will buy whatever he releases. With Fork in the Road, he’s really testing his fans. The album sounds as rushed as Living with War, but it lacks a sense of urgency. None of the anger and passion that made Living with War so compelling is in evidence on Fork in the Road. Punctuated by odd, interesting solos and witty lyrical phrases, these songs about cars and the environment offer, at best, an annoying harangue from rock’s favorite curmudgeon.
Could Fork in the Road have been saved by more time, effort, and attention? Probably not. Young is infamous for being a perfectionist. It isn’t unusual for him to delay the release of his work. At times, he even has bought the entire pressed stock of an album at his own expense to keep it from going public before he was satisfied. Of course, one needs to look no further than his on-again, off-again Archives set to realize what a harshly individualistic path he has hewn over the course of his career. Young obviously does whatever he wants to do.
This is, of course, one of the most endearing things about Young’s artistic outlook. His absolute indifference to what anyone thinks about his work is a perfect balm to the cynical, financially driven perspective that currently dominates the music industry. At this stage of the game, Young simply releases whatever appeals to him at the moment. He may never play any of these songs live after his current tour is over, or they may appear out of the blue at one of his concerts down the road. The Greendale songs that once filled his performances, for example, have completely disappeared from his shows. He is over them, and he has shifted his attention to his next project.
For fans of his amplified fare, there are lots of echoes of Young’s best, white-noise shredding a la Cortez the Killer contained within Fork in the Road. In addition, Young passionately sings about electric cars, government corruption, and bank bailouts. Most of the country is with him as he demands to know where the money has gone. In fact, it’s easy to sympathize with his anger over everything. Young is frustrated not only with how out of control the world has become but also with how human beings seem incapable of changing anything until they’re facing the abyss. Young is trying to awaken the masses in order to stave off oblivion. Fork in the Road is broadsheet music, and in this way, it is Young, the topical folk singer, that has crafted the endeavor.
Fork in the Road is a down-and-dirty, hot-off-the-presses journal that is filled with songs that reflect today’s headlines. Consequently, it is destined to live and die in the moment in which it was created. There’s nothing wrong with this, per se. In fact, Young’s unflinching idealism is a welcome relief to the soul. Nevertheless, Fork in the Road hardly could be considered among his better endeavors.
This article originally appeared at www.musicbox-online.
Support Musicbox. Subscriptions are free.
Read more: Neil Young - Fork in the Road (Album Review) - http://www.musicbox-online.com/dh/review/05152009/neil-young-fork.html
#ixzz0FaeJ3J3R
Fork in the Road
(Reprise)
First Appeared in The Music Box, May 2009, Volume 16, #5
Written by Douglas Heselgrave
Fri May 15, 2009, 03:30 AM CDT
Fork in the Road is so deliberately noncommercial that it immediately recalls the efforts over which Geffen Records sued Neil Young in the 1980s. Of course, the act of putting together a sequence of music that is designed for a niche market isn’t inherently a bad thing. A lot of the best albums that have ever been created initially struggled to be heard in a sympathetic light when they hit the market. In some cases, artists have been so far ahead of the times that it has taken years for the public to appreciate what was being offered.
Young has grappled with this dynamic for much of his professional life. Tonight’s the Night now is considered to be among the best endeavors in his canon, but when it first was issued in 1975, it was all but eviscerated by hostile critics. Unfortunately, Fork in the Road will not meet the same fate as Tonight’s the Night. There is no hint in the album’s 10 tracks that could be considered groundbreaking or even particularly worth hearing. Even worse, while the other minor efforts in Young’s considerable canon — such as Trans, Everybody’s Rocking, and This Note’s for You — contain at least a few moments of brilliance, it is hard to imagine Fork in the Road having any lasting value.
In the past, Young’s albums have appeared to be fatally flawed, only to gain resonance at a later date. Mirror Ball, his sloppy collaboration with Pearl Jam, for example, has since shed its grating textures to become something epic and vigorous. Likewise, the Booker T.-fed doo-wop that flows through many of the songs on Are You Passionate? now gives the album a presence that is uplifting and life-affirming. Therefore, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that opinions about Young’s work will shift over time.
Perhaps the biggest obstacle that Young faces these days is the notion that he has a core audience that will buy whatever he releases. With Fork in the Road, he’s really testing his fans. The album sounds as rushed as Living with War, but it lacks a sense of urgency. None of the anger and passion that made Living with War so compelling is in evidence on Fork in the Road. Punctuated by odd, interesting solos and witty lyrical phrases, these songs about cars and the environment offer, at best, an annoying harangue from rock’s favorite curmudgeon.
Could Fork in the Road have been saved by more time, effort, and attention? Probably not. Young is infamous for being a perfectionist. It isn’t unusual for him to delay the release of his work. At times, he even has bought the entire pressed stock of an album at his own expense to keep it from going public before he was satisfied. Of course, one needs to look no further than his on-again, off-again Archives set to realize what a harshly individualistic path he has hewn over the course of his career. Young obviously does whatever he wants to do.
This is, of course, one of the most endearing things about Young’s artistic outlook. His absolute indifference to what anyone thinks about his work is a perfect balm to the cynical, financially driven perspective that currently dominates the music industry. At this stage of the game, Young simply releases whatever appeals to him at the moment. He may never play any of these songs live after his current tour is over, or they may appear out of the blue at one of his concerts down the road. The Greendale songs that once filled his performances, for example, have completely disappeared from his shows. He is over them, and he has shifted his attention to his next project.
For fans of his amplified fare, there are lots of echoes of Young’s best, white-noise shredding a la Cortez the Killer contained within Fork in the Road. In addition, Young passionately sings about electric cars, government corruption, and bank bailouts. Most of the country is with him as he demands to know where the money has gone. In fact, it’s easy to sympathize with his anger over everything. Young is frustrated not only with how out of control the world has become but also with how human beings seem incapable of changing anything until they’re facing the abyss. Young is trying to awaken the masses in order to stave off oblivion. Fork in the Road is broadsheet music, and in this way, it is Young, the topical folk singer, that has crafted the endeavor.
Fork in the Road is a down-and-dirty, hot-off-the-presses journal that is filled with songs that reflect today’s headlines. Consequently, it is destined to live and die in the moment in which it was created. There’s nothing wrong with this, per se. In fact, Young’s unflinching idealism is a welcome relief to the soul. Nevertheless, Fork in the Road hardly could be considered among his better endeavors.
This article originally appeared at www.musicbox-online.
Support Musicbox. Subscriptions are free.
Read more: Neil Young - Fork in the Road (Album Review) - http://www.musicbox-online.com/dh/review/05152009/neil-young-fork.html
#ixzz0FaeJ3J3R
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