anearful

Walking In The Reign: Grace Jones at 65

2013-05-19T09:37:00.000-07:00

At the risk of having a TMI moment, I'm going to share the fact that there's a little part of my brain that is dedicated to Grace Jones's version of Use Me, the Bill Withers song. A quick mental flick of the switch and it starts playing. The rhythm section of Sly & Robbie, along with the keys of Wally Badarou, sets the stage, concocting a fantastic groove that's both earthy and mechanical. Then Grace enters, working her slightly stentorian mezzo against the beat: "MY friends/THINK that/It's THEIR appointed duty..." So freaking fabulous. It was actually that song that sealed the deal for me with Grace, standing in Tower Records in 1998, the year the excellent compilation Private Life was released. I had bought the 12" of Pull Up To My Bumper in high school and had put it on countless mix tapes over the years - it is still a guaranteed floor-filler - but had not invested further. Now I was a true convert and have remained so ever since. When she's at her best, there's something about her bravery and strength, not to mention her uniquely rhythmic singing, that moves me.

Private Life covers the three albums she made in Compass Point, Nassau, with the amazing band Island Records head Chris Blackwell hand-picked to work with her. The Caribbean was a homecoming for Grace as she was born in Jamaica, moving to Syracuse, NY at the age of 12. It wasn't too long before she made her escape from that frozen city and she was quickly mixing it up in NYC and Paris as a model, scene-stealing party-goer and, eventually, a singer. It soon became obvious that she was an extension of a through-line that started with Josephine Baker and continued through Eartha Kitt (I'm a big fan) - unconventional vocalists with a strong theatrical bent and personae that freely confront issues of gender, race and sexuality.

Her first three albums made her name in the hardcore disco underground of the Pradise Garage and its ilk, but it wasn't until Blackwell sent her down to Nassau that she began to make wider waves. The story goes that he sent down some of the outrageous photos Jean Paul Goude had made of her as a virtual advance team. Sly, Robbie and the rest of the Compass Point Allstars began work on the album with huge posters of Grace staring at them from all angles, though they still might not have been fully prepared when she showed up in the flesh. Covering songs by The Normal, Iggy Pop, The Police, Chrissie Hynde, Tom Petty and others, she proved to be a genius interpreter of contemporary songwriters. On Living My Life, the third Compass Point album, her own songwriting became richer and more personal. While she was often late and sometimes a no-show at her concerts, the film A One Man Show used videos and live footage to display a riveting and unique performer.

After Living My Life, Grace tried something new, working with producer Trevor Horn on Slave To The Rhythm, which yielded another classic single in the title track. She co-wrote every song on Inside Story in 1986, working with Nile Rodgers to update her sound yet again. Like Slave To The Rhythm, Inside Story has some 80's clatter, but I'm Not Perfect (But I'm Perfect For You) is a strong single and the songs continued to show more nuance. However, Bulletproof Heart, the 1989 album overseen by her then-husband (naturally, she's had a couple), found her either subsumed or unsupported by the production.

There were ups and downs after that point and a long period of quiescence. In 2008 she released Hurricane, a return to form that found her working with Sly & Robbie again and sharing her most personal songs yet. The frankly autobiographical Williams' Blood revealed that her maternal grandfather, Dan Williams, was a musician who had not always behaved himself while on the road with Nat King Cole - a far cry from Jones' preacher-father. The dichotomy between the Jones blood and the Williams blood is likely a source of the tension and emotional depth contained in Grace's finest work.

I had a chance to see her perform in 2009 and she was as spectacular as I had imagined, managing to sing well while wearing incredible costumes. She's a bit eccentric, obviously, and chattered out autobiographical anecdotes from backstage during each costume change. While there hasn't been any new music since Hurricane, she made a recent splash at the Queen's Jubilee concert, singing Slave To The Rhythm while unflappably hula hooping through the whole song. Queen Elizabeth was not in the stadium yet, which is just as well - it might have been confusing to have two queens there at the same time!

Happy 65th birthday to the one, the only, Miss Grace Jones.

No Longer A Big Inner

2013-05-18T10:59:00.001-07:00

I have a not so hard and fast rule about avoiding multiple performances by a band or musician during the same album cycle. This is partly to keep my schedule from quickly spiraling out of control and partly to maintain a freshness in relation to their musical performance. It can be a little disappointing to discover that that spontaneous moment that levitated the audience was actually carefully calibrated. A concert that is less than completely satisfying, however, trumps the rule whenever possible. Back in the day, I saw Siouxsie & The Banshees three times over the course of a year, hoping for a performance as stunning as their records. Never happened, although one show was so stunningly loud that all I heard were overtones. For a week. Somewhere in my ears are some blackened goth hair cells - but that's another story.

White: Big Inner No More

In the case of Matthew E. White, when I saw him at Mercury Lounge last summer, it was one of his first gigs outside his hometown of Richmond,VA, and it showed in the sometimes tentative performance. Granted, White's stunning debut album, Big Inner, features layers of horns, strings and backing vocals, and serving the songs with a more stripped down ensemble took some doing. Percussionist Scott Clark was a canny choice to enrich the sound but he appeared a little out of his depth that night, and the sound mix on his instruments was not always effective. Still, I left the club with a warm glow and the firm expectation that a few months on the road was going to turn this group into a monster.

Stepping Right Along

I'm happy to report that my hopes became reality at the Bowery Ballroom last Tuesday when White and band returned after many dates in Europe and America. As I told him after the show, they did everything right. They stretched out further into the songs, increased the dynamic range, added a cover song (a gritty take on Waylon Jennings' Are You Ready For The Country) and two new songs, and just plain GELLED. Clark and drummer Pinson Chanselle played as one, providing a dense undercurrent of polyrhythms, and bassist Cameron Ralston proved himself the heart of the band, whether providing a deep groove or working the upper notes on the neck of his instrument. White ripped off guitar licks with the expected economy but less reticence than the last time I saw them. His laid-back voice showed a few more gears, although that could have been the steroids talking - White explained that a shot had brought his voice back from the brink. He also apologized for any surly behavior at the merch table caused by the side effects (he needn't have).

The band is filled out by Trey Pollard, who fills in the gaps on pedal steel, piano and guitar, and Gabe Churray, also known as Snow Panda, who adds layers of atmospherics and dubbed out sounds from behind a bank of keyboards and effects boxes. He may have been doing the same stuff last August, but it was only this time around that I thought, "This guy's gear is set on stun."

Snow Panda: Set On Stun

The only thing that didn't add up this time around is that the room wasn't jam packed. I'm expecting that will also be different next time.

The show was opened by Helado Negro, an affable enough guy with some bass-heavy programmed tracks and an okay voice. His sound seemed promising at first, but quickly grew tedious due to the lack of melodic variety. It's always hit or miss with opening acts...

Matthew E. White's tour continues - make sure your aware of when he hits your area.

A Bronx Cheer For RSD

2013-04-27T12:08:00.001-07:00

My approach to Record Store Day is both serendipitous and practical. If I'm going to a favorite store like Other Music, I know there will be many people with more burning desire for particular special releases than I have, so I prefer to see what I see. That way, I feel lucky with whatever I end up buying. In 2011 I picked up an awesome Fela 7" and a limited edition cassette from Numero Group, along with a couple of other goodies. Last year, I had an event at a Knights Of Columbus near Westwood, NJ (all in a day's work) and let my GPS do the driving to Music Merchant, which turned out to be an excellent store run by dedicated fans. I scored a beautiful Lee Perry vinyl box and a number of used albums at great prices.

This year I was seriously pressed for time so I plotted a course to the nearest RSD participating store, which turned out to be Harmony Records in the Parkchester section of the Bronx. My daughter and I headed out there in the morning, planning to arrive when they opened at 10:30. It's a good thing we weren't completely on schedule because it turned out to be more like 11-ish when to owner, Glenn Velger, came and rolled up the gate. Harmony has been operating since 1956 and if it's not the oldest record store in NYC still at its original location, I'd like to know what is. The small narrow space is decorated by accretion, like a cave that has been transformed by millennia of drips, floods and geologic events. Dion's fingerprints are probably somewhere under the grime and accumulated stuff.

Quick observation made it clear that Harmony was not stocking any RSD special editions so I didn't even ask. I asked Glenn how long he'd been there and learned that he bought the store from the original owner in the 90's and that they still talk a couple of times a month. Before giving me the lay of the land, Glenn delivered a practiced spiel about how downloading was ruining the music business, the kids today don't want to pay for records, etc. Moving on...
Besides a few new release CD's, most of the stock at Harmony consists of well worn LP's and 45's, with a strong concentration in soul, disco and hip hop. Some of the inventory has come from DJ's liquidating their collections and it shows in the number of promo copies and white labels. Serious crate diggers might find some long-sought items here, but they best have deep pockets - I discovered that the base price for LP's and 12" singles is $14.99, even in rough condition.
It was entertaining to flip through the albums - my daughter was incredulous that anyone would want to dress like Don Johnson on the cover of the Miami Vice soundtrack - but some other would-be patrons weren't so happy when they found out there were limited editions in stock. One dude, in expensive head to toe black, came in with his phone to his ear saying "I'm building the house mainly for my records," and asked for the McCartney single.

He looked like he was sucking a lemon when Glenn said he didn't carry any of those things, after all who wants a bunch of kids lined up to fight over a copy of something and downloading is ruining the music business and the kids don't want to pay for music... Expensive Black was clearly not interested in debating the contradictions inherent in Glenn's rap and repaired to his car - a BMW so new I've never even seen it before (license plate FAB4LP) - to try to track down the Sir Paul 7". Between the car, the house full of records, and the attire, I had to ask him if he was in the music biz. "Used to be," he replied, telling me he was a DJ in California - but that's all he wanted to say.
After the sticker shock, I ended up making a few token purchases in the spirit of the day. I took a chance on George McCrae's 1976 album Diamond Touch, partly because I've always like the TK sound and partly because he looked so sad on the album cover. He might have been depressed because the record wasn't recorded at TK HQ in Miami, home of Rock Your Baby, Rock The Boat, Rocking' Chair (by George's wife Gwen), and a dozen hits by KC & The Sunshine Band. Diamond Touch was instead made in NYC under the supervision of Gregg Diamond, known for taking More More More by former porn star Andrea True to the top of the charts.

Diamond Touch is a gleaming edifice of high disco style that surely got them on the floor at 54 but leaves little space for George's sweet vocal stylings. I'm sure it will spice up a mix tape or two, once I rip it to digital, as will the frankly amazing Disco Mix of the South Shore Commission's Free Man. It's a Tom Moulton Mix of a Bunny Sigler production - need I say more? Finally, Don't Take My My Kindness For Weakness Is a sentiment I can get behind, and I'm always a sucker for Stax, so I threw the single by The Soul Children on the pile.
I'm glad we made the trip as our little adventure took us to a part of NYC I'd never seen before, although I've lived here all my life. While I may never go back to Harmony it's definitely a spot any record store aficionado should visit at least once, although maybe not on Record Store Day.

The Replacements: Daring For Slim

2013-04-27T10:13:00.001-07:00

In 1984, about three years after their first record, news of The Replacements rippled out from Minneapolis. Let It Be was their third album and I read enough about it somewhere that I was convinced to buy it sound unheard. The magnificent I Will Dare is the first cut and before it was over I was hooked. Let It Be occupied the turntable for a whole semester, only occasionally replaced by This Is Spinal Tap. In fact, my roommate Andy played Let It Be so much when I went on vacation that the vinyl didn't sound right anymore and he had to get me another copy. We had never heard anything like it - shambolic yet delicate, punk yet pretty, perfectly crafted songs alternating with pure chaos. This was diamond in the rough stuff and there were some heavy carats waiting to be exposed for all the world to hear.

With each new record I was ever more convinced that The Replacements were going to be HUGE, like REM big. That never quite happened - excessive drinking tends to get in the way of world domination. Nevertheless, they released many good records before imploding in 1990. Chief songwriter Paul Westerberg has carried on, as iconoclastic as ever and constantly taking a stand against too much roughness being polished away. One of my favorite things by him was from a few years ago and called 49:00 - 49 minutes of cheap cover songs, balls out rockers and beautiful ballads, all running into and over each other in an aural collage. It's a work of art and he sold it on Amazon for 49 cents for about a month.

In February 2012, Slim Dunlap, the lead guitarist from the band's second phase, suffered a massive stroke that left him in need of round the clock care for the rest of his life. So Westerberg did what you do in rock & roll when a situation like this crops up: you get the band back together (sort of) and raise some money. It's a testament to the legendary status of The Replacements that an eBay auction of the initial release from the Songs For Slim project raised over $100,000 for Slim and his family.

I did my part to drive up the auction bids but couldn't go the distance and ended up buying it from Amazon. Consisting of five songs, the EP is a bit of a hodgepodge and doesn't quite represent a reconciliation of the surviving and active members of the band. Westerberg appears on four of the songs, along with original bassist Tommy Stinson (who's been all over the map, including a time in Guns N' Roses), while drummer Chris Mars ( now a successful painter) only shows up on a solo track, a cover of one of Slim's own songs.

Overall it's never less then a heartfelt affair and there's a lot of fun to be had. The opening cut, a delightful take on Slim's own Busted Up, is the most fully realized and Westerberg sounds in fine form presiding over the louche Bo Diddley beat. He and Stinson also bash through Gordon Lightfoot's I'm Not Sayin', Leon Payne's Lost Highway (made famous by Hank Williams), and Everything's Coming Up Roses from the musical Gypsy. Slim's Radio Hook Word Hit is catchy and streamlined in Mars's hands and, along with Busted Up, has renewed my interest in Slim's solo work.

The love and affection come through loud and clear and one can only imagine how all this sounded to Slim and his family in his time of need. The project is continuing with further auctions and exclusive recordings - get in on it.

Here's Unsatisfied, a stunner from Let It Be, and Busted Up.

Napoleon's Legion

2013-04-13T10:50:00.001-07:00

I first heard the band Napoleon when they played with Mystical Weapons at Santos's Party House earlier this year. I ended up befriending Julian Anderson (vocals, bass) and Julien O'neill (guitar, vocals) and was eager to hear more of their tight, rhythmically sharp, and impassioned songs, so when they invited me to their show at Legion Bar I made my way out to a gritty end of Williamsburg last Saturday night. Even though Julian had told me they were going on after 11, I was curious about the four other bands on the lineup so I got out there early.

The back room at Legion is about the size of an average living room and it was completely empty when I arrived, with no sign of any music about to be made. I had a fine time waiting with my drink, especially when the bartender put on Let It Be by The Replacements and just let it play. Eventually, I heard something coming out of the other room and headed back there just in time to catch the last song of Rob Karpay's set. That was all I needed to hear of a guy shouting over pre-programmed tracks from his tiny keyboard. I will say that he has guts, and that can go a long way in rock & roll.

The next band was billed as Jizzmoppers, either the best or worst band name of all time, and my expectations were low. I perked up momentarily when I thought the guitarist was Julien from Napoleon, but then I realized it was another guy with perfect lead-guitarist looks. They turned out to have a good (but not slavish) driving psych power-pop sound and well-crafted songs, holding my interest with growing enthusiasm for the length of their set. Speaking of looks, I wouldn't expect a drummer under these circumstances to be wearing headphones - click track? line-in from the PA? - and it gave them a slightly provisional look. Are we witnessing a rehearsal, sound check or demo session? The rhythm section was locked in, though, with the drummer driving everyone on, so whatever works, I suppose. They would do well to fill out their songs with some harmony vocals on the choruses, but they are otherwise well on their way.

They're actually called Spires

Before Jizzmoppers left the stage, the vocalist muttered something about their manager and said they were actually called Spires - much better! Get a free sample of their sound here, and keep an ear out for more.

Spires broke down their equipment, the next band set up, and suddenly the room was packed. "That's our friend," the guy next to me crowed at his girlfriend, gesturing toward Sam Cooper, who was leading the trio. The first song was like three songs in one, but in a jumbled way that didn't appeal to me. I tried one or two more but the focus improved only slightly and his nasal voice failed to become more charming. Since I had been standing for a while, I cut out back to the barroom where I found a full-blown sweaty dance party in progress. There was more joy in that room for me as there is never a bad time to hear Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough. Sam Cooper must have a good network, though, as I saw a group of folks leaving the back room when his set was over.

Visuals

Visuals were up next, a twosome of Marshall Ryan (drums/electronics) and Andrew Fox (guitar/vocals). I had checked out their cool song Levitation in advance and was intrigued. They got off to a rocky start, the perils of no sound check evident in their difficulties in getting the balance of instruments right. Things improved when a helpful member of the audience told the drummer to turn up the electronics - if he hadn't, I would have. Things got better once again when the guitarist broke his cheap instrument, which was tuned only in theory, and borrowed a beautiful axe from Napoleon. The last three songs went off without a hitch, giving a clearer impression of their tense post-punk sonic landscape. No shame if Visuals is more suited to the studio for now, and I'd like to hear what emanates next from their quirky world.

Napoleon had to work fast

Visuals vanished and Napoleon began squeezing their five pieces onto the tiny stage. They worked in a hurry, as it was nearly 12:30 and they only had until 1:00am. Nice guys not only finish last, but they also get the shortest set! Napoleon has bigger stages in their future, but they sounded great in the tiny room, whipping off album-opener Sarafan with polish and passion. Their new keyboard player cut a striking figure, even if they're still figuring out where her instrument figures into the expert two-guitar dialog. Five songs, including at least one new one, and they were done - way too short, but I have no doubt that I'll get to see them again. They packed up so fast you would've thought the wolf was actually at the door.

Napoleon gave their all in their short set

I said my goodbyes and began the long trek back to my bed. It was an invigorating night but I was ready for sleep. The blue and silver exes on the back of my hand would remind me in the morning of all I had heard and seen one long night at Legion.

Wire Not Withered

2013-04-06T08:25:00.001-07:00

A short while ago, I posted a review of Parquet Courts in concert and called it "Buzz Buzz In Your Eardrum," after the Wire song Eardrum Buzz from 1989. Anyone catch the reference? After all, it was (I just learned) their highest charting single and Wire gets a mention in nearly every Parquet Courts review, mainly thanks to the extremely short songs on each band's debut album. However, even after over 35 years of music and their continuously fascinating travels just under the radar, no one really sounds like Wire.

As with Bowie, Dylan, and other artists with legendary careers, when presented with new output I prefer to deal with the matter at hand and avoid delving too deeply into history and comparisons. Suffice it to say, if Wire had never recovered from the spectacular flameout which followed on the heels of being dropped by EMI after the release of their third album, 154, in 1979, they would still be considered one of the most significant bands of the post-punk era.

But the fact is that they did regroup - twice, first in 1985 and again in 1999 - and now show no signs of slowing down. Even the loss of founding guitarist Bruce Gilbert in 2004 was merely a bump in the road for the band, which now consists of Colin Newman (vocals, guitars, keys), Graham Lewis (bass, vocals, most lyrics), Robert Grey (drums), and Matthew Simms (guitars).

Change Becomes Us is their new record and I snapped up on of the 1,000 copies of the special edition, which comes in a book form including essays by the band and Mike Barnes, as well as photos, lyrics and complete credits. It's a beautiful object, though not excessively precious, and is well-served by the band's overall intelligence and awareness of their process. Though it is not required reading, anyone who loves the sounds on the record will find them enhanced by the words in the book - the first sentence of which forces me to break my rule slightly, as it makes clear that their history is deeply intertwined with this new release.

"The first question any knowledgeable Wire fan might ask about Change Becomes Us is whether it's a new album or a 'project,'" theynwrite and the short answer is both. Several of the songs arose out of revisiting material that was essentially unfinished (or at least undercooked) when they first broke up in 1979. So in a way, they are completing a circle, but there's a tail on the circle, a way out and forward, like on the letter Q. An appropriate image as Q must be one of their favorite letters, encompassing such words as quirky, questing, questioning, and querulous, all of which can be used to describe Wire.

Other words often used are chilly, disconnected, cerebral, which are certainly apt as well, but some of the songs on Change Becomes Us have me thinking that they are often describing those states rather than necessarily embodying them - which is a long way of saying that there is emotional content on this album and I connect to it. I think it's always been there, but it's just been getting more and more accessible. That's not due to any kind of softening, as they can still spray chords and drill rhythms like few other bands, but more the result of continuous honing and artistic (and possibly personal) growth. Change becomes them, indeed.

Graham Lewis can be an incisive lyricist or a conceptual one, and sometimes both simultaenously as on one of the album's best songs, Re-Invent Your Second Wheel: "Your outer skin it will not peel," he sings, "Give me a hint of how you feel/Please raise your face, put down your shield/Then re-invent your second wheel." It's hard to imagine a more direct plea for rejuvenating a relationship, but then the chorus, sung in a croon both seductive and arch, is, "VBFC HOQP TMNY JUXD/UASU RYLI VBFC HOQP." You'll want to join in even if you didn't know that "The basis of the refrain is still an attempt to use all the letters in the alphabet and make it sound good. I kept the letters because it reminded me of R&B and Tamla Motown, like the Jackson Five's 'ABC'."

Wire are a music critic's dream and I could go on like that ad infinitum. But I won't. Change Becomes Us is just too good a record and I wouldn't want my prattle to stand in the way of the experience. I will simply say that every song perfectly combines craft and refinement with the energy and immediacy of live performance. You'll catch some of the words, but they are worth reading (and look great on the page), and close listening will reveal the immersive depths of the layers of guitars and keyboards. This is as good as rock music gets in 2013 and the fact that it represents only the latest example of Wire's long tradition of excellence is merely a dewdrop on the petal (I could've said "icing on the cake" but Lewis's lyrics inspired me to reach beyond cliché). Wire will be touring the U.S. extensively in July - I will be catching them at Bowery Ballroom on July 16th.

The Book Of Hook

2013-03-30T12:44:00.001-07:00

Art is often the expression of the ineffable, and no art form is this more true of than music. Why does a chord sequence or a melody have the power to elicit an emotional response? Why does rhythm make our bodies move? Why do the lyrics of often very young people continue to illuminate our lives? You can analyze and deconstruct to your heart's content, but sometimes it's best to let mysteries remain mysteries. Of course, that doesn't stop us writers from finding something to say about anything that catches our attention.
And these days, it doesn't stop musicians from writing books about themselves and their music, exposing the inner workings of that which we fans hold so precious. I have avoided some of these books, either because they seem self-serving or because as I just don't want to know too much.
When I heard about Unknown Pleasures: Inside Joy Division by their bass player Peter Hook, I was going to put it in the category of books to avoid. I still find something fragile in their short career, and in Ian Curtis's short life, for one thing, and for another, Hook sometimes seems to be a right bastard in interviews. On further reflection, it was precisely for the latter reason (and an interview with Hook on WNYC's Soundcheck) that I decided to read it. I figured Hook's ability to be unvarnished and even unflattering about himself meant he could be trusted.
Also, Joy Division's music is so intertwined in my very soul that nothing could change my fundamental relationship with it. I can still remember buying my beautiful ruby red vinyl copy of Closer, which was easier to find than the first album, and being instantly captivated. We all were, and even though Ian Curtis's suicide stopped their career in its tracks, it didn't freeze the music in amber: in the world it continued to grow in stature, and in my own life it has grown with me to become one standard by which all music is judged.
Whether it was wisdom or emotion that led Peter Hook to wait more than 30 years before writing this book, there is no doubt that the distance of time is to its benefit. His point of view is disarmingly clear and his recollections ring true throughout. His love and admiration for Joy Division's musical achievement is never in doubt and there is a sense that even though he was a participant he is not entirely sure how he and his rambunctious friends created it. He can describe it, but he can't unravel it.
While Unknown Pleasures is not overtly literary, it is well organized and does not fall prey to the breathless "and then this, and then that" structure of many "as told to" books. Hook also knows how to build drama and excitement as the scrappy group originally known as Warsaw works their way up the music scene in Manchester, to London and beyond. It was a fecund time and place and he does a great job conveying the sense of possibilities and how he and his compatriots in Joy Division, and at Factory, their label, made it all up as they went along.
Hook never puts Curtis on a pedestal, but he does recognize his extraordinary talent, which went beyond just singing and writing lyrics. In one telling passage, he describes the essential role Curtis played in the songwriting process: "...he had that ear - he thought like a musician. The way it worked was that he'd listen to us jamming, and then direct the song until it was...a song. He stood there like a conductor and picked out the best bits." He is also unhesitating in his praise and respect for the other band members, guitarist and keyboard player Bernard Sumner and drummer Stephen Morris. He never loses sight of their originality and growing musical prowess. Admirably, even though his relations with them are currently at a low ebb, he never indulges in gratuitous character assassination. The fact that Sumner comes off as essentially a cold and self-involved person seems based in fact rather than hurt feelings. Hook, who lists Closer as one of his top five albums, doesn't let personalities stand in the way of the pleasure of the music itself and nor should we.
The structure of the book is well-balanced between the nuts and bolts of the music itself, the work that went into making it and the often-entertaining antics of the players involved. The fact that these were basically kids acting the way most young rock musicians act also takes nothing away from the indomitable quality of Joy Division's music. The timelines and track by track analyses break up the narrative nicely, with the latter especially being worth the price of admission. His recognition of the greatness of Joy Division's music is not bound up in his ego; he recognizes that they were a fast developing but very young band. I am in full agreement with him that Closer is the stronger of their two albums (although not by much) and that there were still opportunities for growth.
As someone who is not a fan of New Order, I will always feel that those opportunities were wasted. I'm probably not alone in that - Hook himself might agree, but we'll have to wait for his book on his second career to find out. Based on the musical erudition, emotional connection and engaging personality on display in Unknown Pleasures: Inside Joy Division, I just might pick up Hook's next volume.

Bowie: Where Is He Now?

2013-03-24T09:06:00.000-07:00

When I was 16 I discovered both David Bowie and Burning Spear. I remember writing to a friend that Spear made me feel grounded, at one with the earth, while Bowie made me feel above it all, a god's-eye view, where troubles and joys had the same value. Spear lives in Queens now, not the loamy hills of Jamaica, but when I saw him in concert a few years ago I still got that rich, natural feeling. And how am I feeling now that Bowie is back? Pretty damned tall.

The story of The Next Day has been told in detail by so many publications that I don't feel the need to go into it here. I will say that I come down on the side that Bowie's comeback was, and continues to be, one of the most remarkable public relations coups of recent years. From the "cone of silence" over the recording sessions themselves, to his own continued silence ("He's letting us do all the work," as bassist and vocalist Gail Ann Dorsey put it), Bowie has proved that he is still a master manipulator of media. Remember, this is the man who created Ziggy, a superstar persona that resulted in actual superstardom, after about a decade of trying.

When the song and video Where Are We Now? burst into the consciousness of the world on his 66th birthday, some commented that Bowie looked and sounded frail. But it was instantly clear to me that he was still the actor, with every blink and swallow carefully enacted. Using only his attenuated face, Bowie gave as precise a performance as his legendary run on Broadway in The Elephant Man. The song itself was gorgeous and witty, a wry and romantic look back at Bowie's Berlin days. Nostalgic, yes, but far from cliched. Admit it: you never heard the word Dschungle in a song before, certainly not sung so casually. Produced by Tony Visconti, the sound was lush yet spare, a small ensemble masterfully employed.

Andre Bazin, the French film theorist, created the idea of doubling, where what we know of a film actor's real life informs their performance of a character that is not them. In Where Are We Now? Bowie makes use of this "Bazinian doubling" to lend depth to our experience of the song. He knows what we know about his time in Berlin and allows us to fill in blanks - but that doesnt mean that it is Bowie himself who is singing the song. Bowie is not a confessional songwriter, after all. The "old Bowie" persona in Where Are We Now? may be one of his canniest creations yet, one which gives us access to the emotions of the song rather than distancing us from them. Then the album arrived, with its brilliant cocked snook of a cover, and it was clear that Bowie would not be wallowing in his past but simply standing on it to get to a new place in his art.

The title track kicks the album off with a dry thwack, snarling guitars matched by Bowie's swaggering sneer. While it has a similar swing to Repetition from Lodger, The Next Day is driving and confident with phantasmagoric lyrics based in Bowie's medieval studies. It's an etching of an execution repurposed by The Starn Twins. Cleverly sung from the POV of the slain ruler, the line (by now much-quoted) "Here am I/Not quite dying'" savagely puts paid to the rumors of Bowie's ill health in true Bazinian fashion.

Dirty Boys, ugly and ungainly like its subjects, comes next and solidifies the sense that Bowie is fully engaged as an artist and unafraid to challenge himself. The spacious sound gives room for the three-guitar knife-fight of Gerry Leonard, Earl Slick and Visconti to compete for dominance. Aided and abetted by Steve Elson's baritone sax, the herky jerky rhythm of Dirty Boys is the perfect lead-in to the sweeping onrush of The Stars (Are Out Tonight).

Instantly in the pantheon of Bowie's greatest songs, with a fascinating video to match, The Stars is a dark look at the relationship between the famous and their fans, but instead of the latter parasitically leaching off the former, the roles are reversed: "They burn you with their radiant smiles/Trap you with their beautiful eyes." Leave it to Bowie to find something original to say about our celebrity-obsessed culture, and to wrap it up in such a seductive package, with David Torn's processed guitar lending depth and atmosphere.

There have been some comments (complaints?) that Visconti is not doing enough as a producer on The Next Day. In some senses, he and Bowie employed an old-fashioned approach by having musicians play together in a studio, shuffling players in and out as each song demanded. It is also true that there is little of Brian Eno-style treatments and everything pretty much sounds like what it is. But listening to Love Is Lost and then checking the credits to see that its grandiose sound is the product of just four musicians, with minimal overdubbing (except for the layered vocals), is to realize that all is not as simple as it seems. One of Visconti's greatest achievements, after all, is the gleaming perfection T.Rex's The Slider, which is more the result of the organization of sound and the deployment of resources than any studio wizardry. The same is true of The Next Day.

Valentine's Day also features a small group sound with a complex vocal arrangement, and is one of Bowie's compassionate portraits of an outcast, this time a high school loser who imagines "...how he'd feel/If all the world were under his heel." Maybe all will be well if he meets the girl with the mousy hair from Life On Mars - but I doubt it. It's no accident that Valentine's Day is followed by the overwhelming power of If You Can See Me, with its prog rhythms and shattering vocals from Gail Ann Dorsey soaring overhead. This is Valentine become "the spirit of greed, a lord of theft," and at the head of an rampaging army, his divided self embodied by Bowie's processed singing. It's the kind of song you can imagine on Buffalo Bill's iPod and it sounds like nothing else in Bowie's catalog.

I'd Rather Be High is a Sixties-infused slice of anti-war greatness, with a chorus of Bowies providing the perfect backdrop for the swooping melodies. It's a fantastic song, informed by Apocalypse Now and Generation Kill, and one that John Lennon himself would likely welcome as the b-side of Rain. Like The Stars, it's a bitter pill with a creamy coating and the pure expression of a genius songwriter at the top of his game. One can only wonder at the renewable font of creativity on display.

Boss Of Me and Dancing Out In Space are probably the weakest songs here, redeemed by sheer pop craft, committed singing and unexpected lyrical twists. Bazin welcomes us to contemplate Bowie and Iman's long and happy marriage while listening to Boss Of Me, and Dancing Out In Space is filled with Torn's glorious soundscapes and perhaps the only reference to Georges Rodenbach, the 19th century Belgian symbolist, in a rock song. Both songs are a little silly, but Bowie seems in on the joke and they'd be easier to dismiss if they weren't so catchy.

How Does The Grass Grow? evokes Europe in the throes of a post-war rebirth fertilized by the blood of young men. In a nod to sampling culture it contains an "interpolation" of Jerry Lordan's Apache (a huge hit for The Shadows in 1960), which although I am unable to tease it out leads to the song being co-credited to Lordan. Perhaps this is Bowie's meta reference to his roots in bombed out pre-Beatles England, or it could be a way for Lordan's heirs to get some income. Coincidentally, Lordan went to Finchley Catholic High School, so maybe he was one of the "dirty boys" who stole a cricket bat at Finchley Fair in the earlier song. Or maybe I'm just on a Wikipedia-fueled tangent while Bowie chuckles in the corner.

I'm no fan of Jack White but I recognize the influence of his fractured riffs in the punky intro and hard-rocking verse of (You Will) Set The World On Fire. It's essentially a song of encouragement, unexpectedly set in the Greenwich Village folk scene of the 60's, with the narrator pledging to do whatever it takes to bring the talents of another to fruition. If you're having trouble accomplishing something, consider programming your alarm clock to wake you each morning with this song's explosive energy.

With its Hearbreak Hotel title and Leonard Cohen melody, You Feel So Lonely You Could Die has the form of another Bowie ballad, but its theme is vengeance: "Oblivion shall own you/Death alone shall love you/I hope you feel so lonely you could die." This is Bob Dylan bleak and a long way from the consolations of Rock'n'Roll Suicide. Like much of The Next Day, the contrast between form and content is enthralling.

Bowie's love and high regard for the music of Scott Walker has been well known at least since he covered Nite Flights on Black Tie White Noise in 1993. But album closer Heat is a much more fitting homage, with a sepulchral vocal and the chilly refrain of "My father ran the prison." One way Bowie is most unlike Walker is that while he likes to appear alienated (and maybe he is), he never wants to alienate. So Heat is still beautiful to listen to, unlike one of the room-clearing tracks from Walker's more recent albums, like 2012's monumental Bish Bosch. Nite Flights was the title track of the last album by The Walker Brothers and contained four songs by Scott Walker, which, along with Harmonia's Deluxe, were the biggest influence on Lodger, so this is a debt well-paid.

Bowie is obviously at a prolific place as the deluxe edition of The Next Day comes with three bonus tracks and, while perhaps not essential, they are worth the extra couple of bucks. So She is a short and twisted pop gem, while Plan is the brittle instrumental heard at the beginning of the video for The Stars (Are Out Tonight). I'll Take You There is a fast-paced rocker in the mold of How Does The Grass Grow, though not as fully realized.

Any time we listen to music, it's filtered through our expectations and experiences. With an artist as legendary as David Bowie these two factors are cranked up nearly to the breaking point. Is it even fair to judge The Next Day next to his nearly flawless RCA years, as great a run of albums as there has been in recorded music? Considering that contemporary critics often misjudged those albums as they were released, I would hesitate to compare The Next Day to one of Bowie's 70's classics. Time will likely be the best judge of that. I think there are better questions to ask: Does this album speak to me and move me today? Has it withstood close listening and scrutiny of the music and lyrics? Does it reveal growth and change in Bowie's artistry?

I can answer all of these queries with a resounding YES. The Next Day is a nearly a complete triumph, and one that is far less dependent on Bowie's artistic capital than his last two albums, Heathen and Reality, which were both quite good. As a singer, songwriter and arranger he shows enough variety of inspiration so as to be almost protean, an astonishing feat for an artist in his 60's. He sounds excited and energized and is an inspiration to those of us who plan to continue believing in rock & roll for the rest of our days. Don't wait until tomorrow: The Next Day is today.

Lee Perry: Black Ark Man at 70

2013-03-20T17:04:00.000-07:00

I lay in bed, 14 or 15, waiting for sleep to come. I switched over to the AM dial and caught the soothing voice of reggae DJ Gil Bailey, whose show on WLIB I had enjoyed before. Even the commercials, often for local businesses in Queens and Brooklyn (such as Paul’s Boutique, immortalized by the Beastie Boys), were entertaining.

Then I heard something hard and beautiful: a brutal drum intro followed by a reedy wavering voice: “Welllll, a wicked man I know will live forever...” What WAS this? Then the chorus: “When Jah Jah come, he make hellfire burn/When Jah Jah come, all Babylon have fe run.” The bass line, even coming out of the mono Radio Shack speaker, cut through me, a sound as serious as your life. That bass had a physical quality, a sculpture in sound, and formed an unstoppable groove with the ticking of the high hat, which had been processed into a gleaming chain of mechanical noises. I was wide awake now. Clearly this was reggae of a different order than the Bob Marley I knew or The Harder They Come. I never wanted the song to end, but I also couldn’t wait to hear Gil Bailey say who it was - I HAD to get that record.

The next day, after school, I was on my way to J&R Music World to buy a record called Scratch and Company: The Upsetters Chapter 1.

This was my introduction to the world of Lee “Scratch” Perry, who had been an apprentice to Sir Coxone Dodd, the founder of the legendary Studio One and one of the creators of the Jamaican recording industry. Perry eventually went on his own, building the Black Ark studio, the source of some of the most fascinating sounds ever committed to tape, and working with nearly every important singer in the roots reggae era. As the avatar of dub reggae, where sounds are manipulated with echo and other effects and instruments and vocals drop in and out of the mix, Perry was a central figure in the “Jamaica-fication” of popular music. Thanks to his innovations, and those of other Jamaican wizards, the producer became preeminent, recording musicians in the studio only the beginning of making a record, and a song can be the subject of endless remixes.

Most of all, however, he made fabulous record after fabulous record, a river of music barely contained by the many discs I have. Any serious collection should have Heart of the Congos, Police & Thieves and at least one collection of Perry's work with Bob Marley. Sometime in 1979, either due to a mental breakdown or in an attempt to extricate himself from punishing business relationships, Perry torched the Black Ark and left Jamaica. For most of the last 30 years, he has been residing in Switzerland, still making the occasional records and guest appearances. In fact, he will be appearing at Le Poisson Rouge with Adrian Sherwood and others on May 30th as part of NYC in Dub.

Whether he’s truly nuts or just crazy like a fox, Perry deserves to rest on his laurels as someone who changed music in seismic ways - the aftershocks are still being felt today. I never go anywhere without 20 or 30 Perry-related songs on my iPod. Thanks to labels like Pressure Sounds, there is inexhaustible stream of new material to absorb.

I am still in touch with that visceral reaction that I had that night, listening in bed. The liner notes on the back of Scratch and Company put it very well (all grammar from the original): “The Emotional Thrust The Burning intensity and the expressive feel in his recording stream; Here is a small drip of what I am talking about...listen in depth and you will hear what I mean and love it."

The Black Ark man turns 70 today. It's more than time to "listen in depth" if you haven't already.

Crossing Into Night: Dinnerstein & Merritt

2013-03-16T13:09:00.001-07:00

Simone Dinnerstein stunned the world of classical music in 2007 when her self-produced recording of Bach's Goldberg Variations shot to the top of the Billboard chart. Wherever her version ultimately ranks on the list of the many, many recordings of these popular pieces, it was immediately obvious that the record introduced an artist with an uncommon ability to communicate. Fortunately,while her playing may have been slightly over-romantic, this was in no way a dumbing down of Bach. Since then, she has continued to seek ways to inject freshness in the music of Bach, Schubert and Beethoven, among others.

Dinnerstein's expressive playing and down to earth approach made her ripe for a full-on classical crossover project like Night, the new album she made with Americana/alt-country singer-songwriter Tift Merritt. Released by Sony Classical on March 19th, Night is a moody and well-programmed collection which includes originals by Merritt, classical selections, traditional songs and songs by Billie Holiday, Brad Meldhau, Patty Griffin, and Johnny Nash.

It is likely that one of the larger contributions to the success of Night is its long gestation. Rather than being thrust into the studio and being forced to create, Merritt and Dinnerstein first met in 2008 and soon found a musical affinity. Working together meant a push out of comfort zones for each of them but their friendship ensured a mutual support system rather than an attempt to defend their own territories as can sometimes happen with such collaborations.

Of course, the pleasures and intentions of the artists are secondary to the experience of actually listening to the music. So what have they delivered on Night? In keeping with the title, this is a dusk-imbued album with a hushed quality that avoids drifting into preciousness. The rich involving sound of the record belies the spare instrumentation, which features only Dinnerstein's piano (played like a zither on at least on song) and Merritt's guitar and harmonica.

Merritt is rare among many current female singers in that she sings without affectation or overt mannerisms. That said, she is well aware of the parameters of her voice and knows when to push and when to restrain. A perfect example of this is the stunning interpretation of When I Am Laid In Earth (here called Dido's Lament), an aria from Henry Purcell's opera Dido and Aeneas. Demonstrating a real flair for theater, Merritt for a few minutes becomes the vanquished queen of Carthage. But this is a Dido shorn of baroque and operatic finery and the rough edges Merritt finds in her voice are electrifying.

Dido's Lament is certainly a standout piece on Night, but not so much that it doesn't fit beautifully between Holiday's Don't Explain and Meldhau's bluesy I Shall Weep At Night, which was written specifically for this album. Besides the Purcell, the other classical contributions are Night and Dreams, a lovely arrangement of Schubert's Nacht und Traum, a short Bach Prelude, and the world-premiere recording of Daniel Felsenfeld's The Cohen Variations, based on Leonard Cohen's iconic Suzanne. The latter two are both instrumentals, and, while I wouldn't mind hearing Merritt sing Cohen, they do a nice job of breaking things up.

Felsenfeld's piece is reflective, like the song it's based on, and avoids capital-V virtuosity, which can be said for Dinnerstein's work overall on Night. Her playing is direct, flexible, and uncluttered, and blends beautifully with Merritt's guitar when they play side by side. The more I listen to Night, the more I am struck by how much of a meeting of musical minds it is. Rather than a shotgun wedding, this is a true collaboration without either hipster self-consciousness or condescending stiffness.

While I was not overly familiar with Merritt's songs before listening to Night, I have enjoyed getting to know them. Based on the four Merritt originals on the album, including two remakes, she is a very solid songwriter, with searching, emotional lyrics and well-shaped melodies. Her songs feel fully realized in the stripped down presentation here, but I'm looking forward to exploring her back catalog in more depth.

Perhaps the only faltering moment on Night is the album closer, which is Dinnerstein and Merritt's own arrangement of Johnny Nash's pop-reggae classic, I Can See Clearly Now. The wistful exuberance of the song is not very well served by the spare arrangement, which sounds distinctly like a demo. While I like the idea of an upbeat ending to this occasionally somber album, what we end up with is betwixt and between and never quite finds its footing. It's not unpleasant, but just doesn't quite hit the sweet spot, unlike the rest of this gorgeous album. Night deserves to gain new fans for both Simone Dinnerstein and Tift Merritt, and to leave those fans looking forward to more from the duo.

Tickets are still available for their appearance at Merkin Concert Hall this Thursday, March 21st. After that they will be appearing around the country, so keep an eye out in your area. Dinnerstein returns to Le Poisson Rouge in NYC on June 9th with the Goldberg Variations.

Buzz Buzz In My Eardrum

2013-03-16T11:53:00.000-07:00

It was the most buzzed about show of the...week? Month? Day? Either way, the buzz for me was only about one of the three bands playing at Bowery Ballroom last Thursday: Parquet Courts. In fact, I had bought the tickets with nearly complete ignorance of the other two bands on the bill, Nude Beach and The Men, the ostensible headliners.

I had fallen hard for Parquet Courts back in January, when What's Yr Rupture reissued their debut album, Light Up Gold. Their songs distill early Pere Ubu, Wire and Velvet Underground, with a little of The Strokes and The Walmen tossed in, into a fresh, driving sound. The accomplishment of the music, with it's tight rhythms, canny guitar interlock and contrasting voices, is nicely contrasted by the slacker aimlessness of some of the lyrics. Many of the songs are short, so Stoned & Starving at 5:11 stands out. At whatever length it would be an instant New York anthem: "I was walking through Ridgewood, Queens/I was flipping through magazines/I was so/Stoned & starving." Just try not to sing along.

Everything pointed to Parquet Courts being a great live band, too, so I put them in my Songkick, hoped for the best, and snapped up the first tickets I could. Before the show, I did my due diligence and listened to Nude Beach and The Men. The former is a shockingly traditional band. Tom Petty is often mentioned, and he is definitely present, along with The Replacements and Stiff-era Elvis Costello. Their second album, II, is not bad at all, with some catchy tunes. The Men I initially found confusing as they've made some whiplash shifts, from wall-of-noise meta-punk on their earlier albums to the sometimes more pastoral sounds on their latest New Moon. The vocals are not very distinctive and I can't say I found any of it terribly convincing but I would at least be walking into Bowery Ballroom with some measure of what to expect - and with open ears.

The show was sold out and, while the room didn't fill up for Parquet Courts, everyone who did get there early enough to see them was devoted. They set up without fuss, with singer/guitarist Andrew Savage and singer/guitarist Austin Brown flanking bassist Sam Yeaton, and drummer Max Savage at the back. The name of the band comes from Yeaton's hometown, where the Celtics play on parquet courts in the famous Boston Garden (who wants to call it TD Garden? Not me), and songs often began with his emphatic bass setting the tone. Andrew Savage is an expert at the Lou Reed single-string + controlled feedback solo and his sinewy lines were consistently engaging, while Brown mostly played chunky rhythm guitar. Max Savage is a great drummer and his attentiveness to his band mates allowed them to shift from one tempo to the next without hesitation.

They doled out the short songs expertly, often creating vertiginous portmanteaus of two songs with one ending on the upbeat and the next starting on the down. The way No Donuts collides with Yr No Stoner on Light Up Gold gives a good idea of what was a thrilling effect in an overall thrilling set. It was a spare 45 minutes, due to them being first on the bill, and could have perhaps used a touch of chaos. I plan to be there when they start headlining and (hopefully) pushing their music to the edge in a much more crowded room.

The three members of Nude Beach took the stage next - Chuck Betz on guitar, Ryan Naideau on bass, and Jimmy Shelton on drums. As promised by their album, they were tight and fun if maybe missing that one standout song and the indelible singing that could separate them from the pack. I found much to admire in Betz's guitar solos - each one told a concise little tale with a beginning, middle and end. I stayed for the whole set and wouldn't be surprised if more exciting stuff comes from them down the pike.

It was coming up on 11:00pm on a school night and I decided to leave it to The Men to convince me to stay later than advisable. I got my coat from the coat check and moved to the back of the room, which was now jammed to capacity. Anticipation was running high in the crowd and while I was not untouched by its contagion, I remained an outsider. The band eventually took the stage, minus their drummer, and started up one of their big noisy intros, with a sax wailing away in the mix. Eventually, the song proper kicked in when the drummer joined them and the audience went nuts. I remained unmoved and when one of the guys went into an ill-fitting amateur-hour monologue about Jimi Hendrix, I gave up and left. I am grateful to The Men for one thing: their utter mediocrity kept from being severely sleep deprived for a very demanding schedule the next day.

Sly Stone: Funky 7-0

2013-03-15T04:33:00.001-07:00

To my mind, there are three overwhelming geniuses of funk in the history of music: James Brown, Sly Stone and George Clinton. All of them are among my favorite artists but I would hazard that Sly is the most misunderstood. The 60's Sly - he of Woodstock and taking you higher - and the 70's Sly - he of blown concerts and "running away to get away" - are almost two different people. The culture embraced the former and, over time, rejected the latter. Perhaps that, more than the tragedy of his addictions, is what drove him into exile.

By the late 70's and early 80's, his later records were out of print and either maligned or forgotten. It was ironic because as his star waned, bands like the Ohio Players and Kool and the Gang had major success serving up an uncomplicated (if wonderful) version of what Sly had pioneered. In the early 90's, a friend sent me a copy of Fresh. I called him in California while it was still playing and asked why no one was talking about this record, why it was out of print (except on pricy and quasi-legal imports) and, most all why wasn't it in the canon? "I don't know, Jeremy, sometimes I think it's because it's just TOO funky." It is hellaciously funky, but after listening a few more times, I decided it was really because it was too personal.

Unlike a lot of funk and soul artists, starting with the masterpiece of There's A Riot Going On, Sly seemed to singing about specific people and situations instead of abstractions. Family Affair used to scare me slightly as a child - it was so real, so human. But as I got deeper into his catalog I just found more to love - and more to be sad about, since (aside from the odd appearance - sometimes very odd) he seems to still be mostly in exile - from us, from his talent and from himself. Whatever his demons, from 1967 to 1980 he produced a remarkable catalog of work.

Fortunately, by now his catalog is in pretty good shape, with expanded versions of almost all of his albums easily available and a new box set on the way. Get it all.

James Brown is the giant, and George Clinton came from the Mothership on high, but Sly was the man who walked among us, dealing with his family, his past, and his worries. He gave of himself in a unique way over some of the most amazing grooves of all time. Here's a few of them to celebrate Sly's 70th birthday.

Excursions & Recursions: Nicholas Cords

2013-03-09T07:23:00.001-08:00

You are standing between two mirrors. You turn to face one and are confronted with infinitely repeating reflections of yourself: this is one kind of recursion. Another type is when there is a picture on the cover a book showing someone holding a book, which has a picture of the same person holding the same book, and on and on, ad infinitum. In math and technology recursions are also related to fractals, in which the part is identical to the whole at any scale. Recursions is also the name of the debut solo album by violist Nicholas Cords.

That's a lot of mental baggage to put into the title of a record. Perhaps it is Cords's way of nudging his listeners to the realization that the music within is, despite spanning centuries and continents, self-similar. His selections certainly make full use of the viola's dark-hued tones and rich timbre. The music is emotional, sometimes almost anguished, and often filled with broad strokes rather than virtuosic details - although the playing is flawless, as you would expect from a member of both groundbreaking string quartet Brooklyn Rider and Yo Yo Ma's globe trotting Silk Road Ensemble. Recursive though it may be, there is nothing repetitive about this album.

The opening track, Heinrich Biber's Passacaglia, has a haunting, almost medieval air, despite being composed in 1676, and leads perfectly into Port Na BPucai (the music of the fairies), a traditional Irish theme arranged by Cords. In barely 14 minutes we have traveled from Baroque Salzburg to a timeless Irish past, finding commonality of feeling between the two. The Biber piece is part of a larger work, the Rosary Sonatas, which details the life of Mary in 15 settings but if there is any irony in setting it beside "fairy music," you won't find it here.

British composer Edmund Rubbra's Meditations on a Byzantine Hymn 'O Quando E Cruces' from 1964 follows, and another theme emerges, that of translations and transcriptions. The Biber work, after all was originally written for violin and the Irish tune is often played on the uilleann pipes. Like Biber, Rubbra draws on the monophony of medievalism before moving into some decidedly un-hymn like dance rhythms, sometimes plucked or strummed in an almost off-kilter fashion. This is no intellectual exercise, however - there is a mood of exploration that carries you through.

Armenian folk tunes are the basis for Alan Hovhaness's Chahagir (1945), one of only two American works on the album. There is no cheap exoticism contained in the piece; rather it is a passionate essay that fully respects the composer's Armenian roots. Cords's playing is fiery, but always in control.

The next piece, Five Migrations, composed by Cords's himself, totals just over seven minutes yet is the heart of the collection, drawing together all the themes and variations contained within. An overview:

Timegate (:51) Multitracking allows Cords to play a spacy melody over his own ostinato.
Stilted Reverie (:48) Combines scrapes, drones and an eastern-tinged tune.
Anachronism (2:07) A subtle glitchy undertone supports a song of shadowed sunshine.
Labyrinth (:56) Fractured plucking and strumming adds up to a neat little machine of sound.
Landing (2:21) The most obviously recursive work here, this is like a folk song in the form of a round and is reminiscent of Penguin Cafe Orchestra.

Five Migrations is an exciting and detailed piece, full of intriguing possibilities. The last section segues naturally into Stravinsky's brief Elegie (1944), which is somber and reflective, providing an apt antechamber for the closing piece, Paul Hindemith's Sonata for solo viola, Op 11, #5 from 1923. Astringent, sometimes almost angry, Hindemith's music here seems to be pointing out something that is glaringly obvious to him but unseen by the rest of us. There is some very dense writing in the sonata, with the occasional flashy run, and Cords dispatches the many challenges with bite and flair. This is a fairly early work by Hindemith, composed before he was 30, but Cords finds a through-line and a maturity of conception that other recordings seem to have missed. It's not an immediately welcoming composition, but repeated listening reveals much to engage with.

Hindemith's final movement is called In Form und Zeitmass einer Passacaglia, which loosly translates as "in the form and correct timing of a passacaglia." Not only is this yet another instance of a composer drawing on and translating from another time and place, it also snaps us right back to where we started, with that earlier Germanic passacaglia.

The word "passacaglia" derives from Spanish words meaning "to walk the street," but what Nicholas Cords has given us on Recursions is no mere stroll but a full-on excursion through times, time, and places. Book your ticket.

Recursions is released March 12, 2013 on In A Circle Records. Catch Nicholas Cords and Brooklyn Rider in a free concert on May 5th.

Tommy Tucker: A Hi Heel Birthday

2013-03-05T09:28:00.001-08:00

There are two kinds of stupid in popular music. There's the Black Eyed Peas and Maroon 5 stupid, where you feel your IQ diminishing, your will to live draining away, and you begin questioning whether evolution was really worth it. Then there's the Tommy Tucker stupid, where you feel more alive, your body wants to move, and the cares of the world slip away gloriously.

"Tommy who?" you say? This is the guy who wrote (under his real name, Robert Higinbotham) and recorded Hi Heel Sneakers, one of the greatest songs of all time. Since he put it on wax in 1964, it's been recorded or performed by literally hundreds of other artists, including The Beatles, Elvis, The Rolling Stones, Stevie Wonder, The Faces, Chuck Berry, Ike & Tina, etc., etc. - even Rhasaan Roland Kirk! Man, what must it feel like to come up with something like that?

This little song about putting on a red dress, a wig hat, and the titular footwear for a night on the town, somehow taps into a rich seam of humanity, rendering it timeless. It just makes you feel GOOD and that's the kind of stupid I like.

Tommy Tucker died in 1982 but his song will outlive us all. Check out the original and Elvis's joyous cover below or go all in with a lightly edited Spotify playlist. Whatever you do, put on some hi heel sneakers today and dance in honor of Tommy Tucker's 80th birthday!

Do The Cut & Paste

2013-03-03T18:23:00.000-08:00

It all starts with Edgard Varese. In a 1997 interview, producer Teo Macero claimed Varese as a "second father," specifically citing his Poeme Electronique (1958) as the inspiration for the radical studio manipulations Macero introduced to the work of Miles Davis in the late 60's. Watching Varese assemble the pieces of his remarkable Poeme must have triggered something in Macero's mind: recorded music (and sound) is plastic, in the original meaning of the word. Today, the idea of jamming with musicians and then looping, editing and adding to that material to manipulate it into a composition is just one tool in the record-making arsenal, and a common one at that. But when Miles Davis's In A Silent Way was released in 1969 the idea of taking whole sections of recorded music, copying them and splicing them to other sections, essentially composing in the studio, was a rare thing indeed.

So that makes Varese the spiritual father of so much of today's music, including Atoms For Peace, the extra-curricular project of Radiohead's Thom Yorke, which has just released its long-awaited debut album, Amok. The all-star group was originally formed to do live shows of material from The Eraser, Yorke's solo album from 2006. Including Radiohead's producer Nigel Godrich, Flea from Red Hot Chili Peppers on bass, studio maven Joey Waronker (Beck, etc.) on drums and Marco Refosco on percussion, the band put in studio time over the past few years, creating a wealth of material for Yorke and Godrich to work with.

Since I find Red Hot Chili Peppers loathsome, I will admit to some anxiety around Flea's involvement with Atoms For Peace. I needn't have worried, however, as he avoids the dreaded thumb and seems to take more inspiration from Jah Wobble than attempting Larry Graham, blending perfectly with the other musicians. The end result is a consistently fascinating assemblage of Afro-pop guitars, deep bass, chattering percussion and rich electronic sounds, from chordal washes to astringent jabs of sound, all with Yorke's feather-light voice, often in falsetto, floating above. Amok is a great headphones album, with layers of sound buried in the mix, waiting to be teased out with repeated listens.

There are no songwriting credits per se, but it is safe to assume that York's melodic and lyrical interests were the strongest influence on how the songs finally shaped up. In both cases it follows close on the heels of Radiohead's The King of Limbs, which contained similarly ambiguous harmonies, circular melodies and, in the words, a general sense of anomie and bruised disillusionment. On the whole, however, it's a more satisfying album than TKOL, feeling more complete and less like a blueprint for endless remixes, although I'm sure there will plenty of those to come.

For anyone familiar with Radiohead, there is nothing intrinsically surprising about Amok, but working with some new collaborators has definitely introduced more dynamics and rhythmic flexibility into what we've come to expect from records featuring Thom Yorke. As wonderful as Amok is, it should be said that it seems to continue a retreat from the more soulful and direct communication represented by In Rainbows, which is sounding more and more like a culmination of sorts with each passing year.

In the same interview, Teo Macero also illuminated the process that led to such towering achievements as Bitches Brew, A Tribute to Jack Johnson and other classics from Miles Davis's first electric period: "His stuff was mostly written down. I mean it was worked out in the studio. But I would record from the time he got there...until he left. And then...I would edit everything."

But before Miles and his musicians entered the studio, the music was also worked out on the road. We have ample evidence of that part of the process on an extraordinary new set, Live In Europe 1969: The Bootleg Series Vol. 2, which features four concerts from the fertile period in 1969, between In A Silent Way and Bitches Brew. The band here, featuring Wayne Shorter on sax, Chick Corea on (mostly electric) piano, Dave Holland on bass, and Jack DeJohnette on drums, was famously short-lived although each member was part of the expanded ensemble that made Bitches Brew. Versions of moody masterpiece Miles Runs The Voodoo Down recorded in Antibes a month before the Bitches Brew sessions, as well as Wayne Shorter's Sanctuary, which appeared on the same album in a very different form, provide a feast for the analytic mind when comparing them to their well-known studio takes.

But analysis is mostly shunted aside by the spectacular and fiery attack of this group, which played without pause each night, blasting through a varied set of old and new material. Miles was in a period of transition and this collection showcases one fulcrum point in his legendary career, with two concerts before the Bitches Brew sessions and two after. One thing that is immediately clear is that he was in top form, playing with power and blasting off 16th note runs with impunity, applying a style he perfected in his previous period to the new electric context. As he got deeper into rock and funk, his trumpet playing included more atmospheric textures, rhythmic wah wah excursions, and he began a deepening involvement with playing the organ. Some of that was due to the poor health (from drug use and other factors) that led to his retirement in 1975. But not here - he leads the band with command and control, taking classic tunes like Nefertiti to new and more dynamic heights and presenting new material with an assured swagger.

The fourth disc in the set is a DVD, featuring a concert in November 1969 in Berlin filmed in living color. It's well-edited and makes for illuminating viewing - Miles and the band were completely engaged and listening carefully to each other. The concert, like all the shows presented is brilliant, full of complex interplay, melodic invention and occasionally touching on the outskirts of free jazz. Though there is nothing tentative about these concerts, Miles and his players were still finding their way in the new world they were creating. Some of that future included Teo Macero in the editing room, cutting and pasting, but Live In Europe 1969 is a glorious reminder of the potency of live, uncut performances, and is now an essential part of the story of Miles Davis.

Classicism: Possibilities and Pitfalls

2013-02-24T10:55:00.000-08:00

The Free Dictionary defines classicism as "a term that, when applied generally, means clearness, elegance, symmetry, and repose produced by attention to traditional forms." Just as in other art forms, some musicians are classicists, steeping themselves in the music of the past and using it to fuel new adventures. Three new releases exemplify this idea, two of them with great success.

Amor De Dias - The House At Sea When the first album by this collaboration between Alasdair MacLean of The Clientele and Lupe Nunez-Fernandez of Pipas came out in 2011, it had the feel of an extra-curricular one-off. Though it took three years to make, it went by like a breeze, with sun-kissed pop abutting tender songs redolent of British folk and bossa nova. It was an addictive combination ended up on my top ten for 2011. However, there was always a little part of me waiting for the next album from The Clientele. Now that we have The House At Sea, I'm not so sure. If MacLean is anything, he's a classicist, with a deep engagement in 1960's rock from The Beatles and (early) Pink Floyd, to The Zombies to The Monkees. One of the problems with classicism is that it can become a cul de sac, leading to art that turns in and in on itself until there's no room for it to breathe. This is a pitfall that The Clientele flirted but never succumbed to as their albums grew progressively more refined.

It may be that with Amor De Dias, MacLean has found the perfect exit from that particular conundrum. By collaborating with Nunez-Fernandez, he's able to cut ties to the band format and freely employ the settings that best serve the songs, and they are beautiful songs. While all the compositions are credited to Amor De Dias, it seems safe to assume that Voice in the Rose, the title track, and especially Jean's Waving, are essentially MacLean songs - in fact, they feature The Clientele's rhythm section and wouldn't sound out of place on one of their albums. But there is a lightness that was not always easy to access on some of those Clientele records, delightful as they are. Also, Nunez-Fernandez contributions are stronger this time, setting off MacLean's work perfectly.

The House At Sea is an exquisite album, it's rich sound and detailed arrangements belying the nine-day recording cycle and small number of players. As with all of MacLean's work, the influence of slightly lysergic surrealism introduces a welcome element of darkness. There are definitely shadows in the sunlight. The final track, Maureen, is one such piece, a haunting Morricone-esque beauty that may hint at another direction for MacLean, another way out should he find himself in one more cul de sac: soundtrack work. Wherever he goes, and with whom, I'll be sure to follow.

P.S. I'll be following Amor De Dias to Hoboken when they play at Maxwell's on March 21st. They'll also be at The Knitting Factory on March 22nd, before hitting Philly and then the west coast.

Jenny O. - Automechanic I first encountered the former Ms. Ognibene when she opened for Jonathan Wilson last May. She performed solo and I was immediately struck by the craft behind her intriguing yet sturdy songs, a few of which were instantly memorable. Her voice was high, a little pinched, and could seem slight, except when she startled me with remarkable breath control, perfect phrasing or unexpected range. That night, when she mentioned she was working on an album with Wilson, my hopes were high.
Now Automechanic is here and it has met, and sometimes exceeded, those expectations.

The songs are as well made as I remembered, with propulsive verses, catchy choruses and lyrics that can be tough and gimlet-eyed or sunny and positive. You get the sense of a young woman proud of her self sufficiency ("Made all my own tools/Yeah I can machine," she sings on the title track), but longing for connection ("Good company is hard to find," she allows on the jokey, Ringo-esque Hey Neighbor), while being knocked off balance by the demands of relationships ("I flipped my lid off/went to far," she confesses on Opposite Island). This all adds up to a winning, engaging and very human presence, a person you can imagine getting to know.

Wilson, who has done superb work as a producer on his own Gentle Spirit and on Father John Misty's Fear Fun, sets each song like a little gem. Though he's known for embodying the sound of Laurel Canyon and California in general, he's not locked into any one sound. The hooks on Come Get Me, for example, come courtesy tuned tom toms, a fat synth, and perfectly placed tambourines. The solo section on the same song features a few licks from an electric sitar followed a spray of space rock from Benji Lysaght's guitar. None of this detail is gimmicky, however, just in service of the songs. Other songs touch on funk and southern rock swagger (I can imagine Good Love showing up on the soundtrack of Justified).

Some of the songs are quite short, and the album as a whole goes by quickly, but that should be an invitation to slow down and pay closer attention. There's a lot of emotional and musical detail packed in on Automechanic and not a lot a wasted space. Jenny O. has done her homework well grafting DNA from Lennon, McCartney, Stills, Nash, Nicks and other "classic rockers" into her own distinctive style. I think we'll be hearing more from Jenny O, but right now I'm just looking forward to seeing her perform these terrific songs with a full band. While there are no dates in my area yet, others have plenty of opportunity.

Listen to Come Get Me
Come Get Me

Johnny Marr - The Messenger Thanks to the many, many interviews Marr has done to promote this album, we have more details on the classicist impulses of his first band, The Smiths. From emulating the sound of The Shangri-Las, to having definite ideas about the color of the label on their first single, Marr and co-conspirator Morrissey turned a decade of in-depth study of their forbears into what became the finest English rock band of the 80's, and one of the best of all time.

As endlessly stunning and inventive as Marr's work is on those Smiths records, I have found his latter career quite underwhelming. Yes, there have been a few terrific gun-for-hire moments like The Right Stuff, his co-write with Bryan Ferry. Before giving The Messenger another full listen, I spent the day listening to Electronic, his band with New Order's perpetually weedy Bernard Sumner (embarrassing stuff), the album he did with Modest Mouse (Isaac Brock is awful and Marr makes little impression), Talk Talk's Mind Bomb (aiding and abetting Matt Johnson's pretentious twaddle), and the album he did with The Cribs (pretty good, but they also do fine without him).

Unfortunately, after all the publicity, The Messenger turns out to be a highly mediocre effort that too often cranks up the energy levels to obscure the colorless production, characterless singing and sophomoric lyrics. There are some nifty guitar sounds and arrangements, but nothing that surprises or tantalizes like How Soon Is Now, or entrances like Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now or Ask. On the whole, The Messenger sounds like the work of someone hung up on his own hype, and stuck in the past. Not only has he turned his classicist tendencies toward less interesting source material than he used in The Smiths, but those tendencies seem to have gotten the best of him on this airless album.

I would say it sounds like it could been have made 10 years ago, but the fact is Marr made a better record 10 years ago. Though The Messenger is being touted as his first solo album, in 2003 he released Boomslang (terrible title, I know) under the name Johnny Marr & the Healers. He sings more naturally on Boomslang, there's more variety to the production, the rhythm section (including Zak Starkey) feels more flexible and the songs are more dynamic. He also does a nice job of incorporating other influences from the past, including a warm psychedelia that's unexpected. It's in no way a classic, but looking back, it pointed toward a future that had the potential to be more interesting than what has actually happened in Marr's career. Message received: As good a guitarist (and interviewee) as he is, Marr's album is a dud.

More to come - I have pre-orders of Atoms for Peace and Wire in the works, and just received an advance of the new album from Nicholas Cords of Brooklyn Rider.

How's 2013 shaping up for you so far?

Richard Wagner: Tod und Hassliebe

2013-02-13T19:08:00.002-08:00

"As a human being he was frightening. Amoral, hedonistic, selfish, virulently racist, arrogant, filled with gospels of the superman (the superman naturally being Wagner) and the superiority of the German race, he stands for all that is unpleasant in human character." (Harold C. Schonberg, The Lives of the Great Composers, 3rd Ed.)

Like it or not, we live in Wagner's future.

His ideas about how to delineate characters through musical themes is the foundation of film scoring since the silent era. Also, his vision of opera as a "gesamtkunstwerk" (unified artwork) encompassing music, visuals, narrative, dance and staging has had a tremendous influence on all performance-based endeavors. His scholarly work on mythologies preserved some of the central motifs of human storytelling for posterity.

In addition, he is an inspiration to all artists for his belief in himself and how incredibly hard he worked to become the composer he wanted to be. "His early works showed no talent," says Schonberg, and Wagner's family was not shy about letting him know that. But he persevered through poverty and humiliation, and succeeded completely, becoming the most famous composer in the world and immensely wealthy. He built Bayreuth, a temple to himself and a hall custom-designed solely to perform his works. In a final expression of his self-belief - and arrogance - performances of his final opera, Parsifal, were restricted to Bayreuth for 30 years after its premiere in 1882 (although the Metropolitan Opera only waited until 1903). Bayreuth continues to present solely Wagner's operas 130 years after his death.

None of this would matter if he had not created some of the most sheerly beautiful music ever written, and some of the most exciting stage stories as well. Perhaps because he presented himself as godlike, yet likely knew that inside he was all too human, his ability to get in the heads of the gods and goddesses of the Ring cycle transformed a tale that could have been mere swords and sorcery. All of his characters, in fact, are simultaneously iconic and down to earth, which may be the dramatic key to the endurance of his works in the opera house.

But it all comes back to those endless melodies and mesmerizing harmonies, creating a framework for spectacular singing and marvelous orchestral sounds. The question about the relationship of the art and the artist is age-old and not going anywhere. In his time Wagner promoted some truly despicable philosophies, which made it all too easy for the Nazis, 50 years after his death, to co-opt his music for their own nefarious purposes. Wagner challenges us to look beyond his pathetic human frailties and to see the splendor of his art.

How beautifully appropriate that the man responsible for the indelible Liebestod, which tells of a love that can only be consummated in death, breathed his last on the day before we celebrate Valentine's Day. As you sink your teeth into chocolates tomorrow, why not immerse yourself in Wagner's glorious and complex sound world.

Joseph Byrd: Coop Flown

2013-02-12T19:05:00.000-08:00

Joseph Byrd is my kind of people. Born in 1937, he studied first at the University of Arizona, where he showed promise as a musician. He moved on to Stanford, where he met up with folks like Steve Reich, La Monte Young and Terry Riley. In 1960, he came to NYC and fell in with the likes of Yoko Ono, John Cage, Morton Feldman and Virgil Thomson. He was only in NY for three years before moving back west, where he became a professor of ethno-musicology, founded two psychedelic rock bands (one released two albums on Columbia), and worked with synthesizer pioneer Tom Oberheim. Somewhere along the way he produced Ry Cooder and Linda Ronstadt, helped Mattel with electronic sounds and wrote the theme music for the CBS Evening News. He is now a professor of music at the College of the Redwoods.

He's my kind of people because he pursues his passions without concern for making his output fit into a proscribed notion of what a career should look like. The only detriment to his quicksilver shifts is that he didn't leave as much of an impression as his work deserved - we know that now thanks to the American Contemporary Music Ensemble (ACME) and their terrific new album, Joseph Byrd - NYC 1960-1963.

Everything on the record receives its premiere commercial recording and the selections create a kaleidoscopic view of Byrd's compositions during his New York Sojourn. Animals, the opening track exists at the intersection of Reich and Harry Partch, all woody sounds, precise tickings and unexpected drama. The concision of the piece is an indication of Byrd's discipline as a composer, and his mastery of form and structure.

But he was not wedded to those ideals. His work with Cage and Feldman gave him leave to loosen his grip and employ indeterminacy as a compositional tool in several of the pieces on the collection. For example, Loops and Sequences gives a pianist and a cellist each a series of notated loops. They can play them in any order, as long as they play each loop only once. For the listener, the result is the sound of two individuals seeking commonality, and finding it only in the end result: a contemplative miniature.

Over the course of the album there are a variety of settings, from solo prepared piano to string trios, from quintets to solo voices, and from electronics to balloons. The last are used in the Prelude to "The Mystery Cheese Ball," a chamber opera composed in 1961 and performed at Ono's loft. Consisting entirely of the sound of air leaving the balloons at different pitches, the result is the definition of whimsy - unless you're too sensitive to high-pitched sounds.

Byrd's music is challenging, but never inaccessible, thanks to his compositional chops and the ACME's committed and engaged performances. The standout for me is the longest piece on the record, Water Music for percussion solo and electronic tape. This involving work gives the percussionist latitude in how he or she relates to the fixed sounds on the tape, which was created in the multi-track studios of Capitol records where Byrd was on staff for a minute. The tape is a lush tapestry and Byrd cannily chose percussion instruments that echo rather than contrast the electronic sounds. Water Music is a rich experience that would not be out of place among the classic Varese and Wuorinen works on Nonesuch's 1968 Percussion Music collection.

Part of the joy of listening to Joseph Byrd's work here, so lovingly presented by ACME, is the window it affords on the fecundity of the scene in NYC in those years. Not too long after Byrd left the Big Apple, Lou Reed met John Cale and the city's avant garde was primed to take quite a different turn.

Getting Mystical at Santos

2013-02-07T17:20:00.000-08:00

After working for over 10 years in the non-profit world, one of the wisest pieces of advice I ever got about fundraising was "It's always a bit of a mess." Fortunately, I was also given a corollary to help me maintain my optimistic outlook: "It always works out in the end." These aphorisms were borne out on Thursday, January 31st, at Feed The Kids Art, the America Mambouka foundation's launch event at Santos Party House. The headliner was Sean Lennon and Greg Saunier's Mystical Weapons and, having missed their last show, I made it my business to get there. In the weeks leading up to the gig, I also became acquainted with Napoleon. Not the exiled French emperor, but rather an up-and-coming psych-rock/pop band - the best in NYC according to the readers of The Deli.

So that's how I ended up on Lafayette street below Canal, one frigid night after a quick bite of squid at Excellent Dumpling House. Here's the report as it happened...

My first time to Santos and, having been slightly spoiled by the tight ship of shows run by Bowery Presents, I'm slightly taken aback by the disorganization. Even after trying to be fashionably late, I'm still early. Whatever - after waiting in the cold for a bit, and then again at the box office, I'm finally shown downstairs. I open the door and...it's going to be a long night. The room is nearly empty, although the fog shot through with colored pin spots is creating more than enough atmosphere. One of the young DJ's featured in the America Mambouka calendar is spinning and the groove sounds good so I order a drink and settle in.

The room was atmospheric but empty when I arrived.

Sean Lennon is by the bar so I say hi. We met years ago, at Mike D.'s infamous scavenger hunt birthday - "The best ever!" declares Sean. I also mention the concert by his band, The Ghost of a Saber Tooth Tiger, that I took my daughter to at South Street Seaport a couple of years ago. He is gratified to hear that we still talk about it. "Oh yeah, I felt good about that one," Sean says. When I ask if they might tour again, he says "So much work with that band. This (Mystical Weapons) is easy - we just improvise." Easy, maybe, but only after you've spent years becoming master musicians like Lennon and Saunier.

Eventually the amusingly named Sarah Tone In takes the stage and thanks us all for coming. True to her word, she and her DJ Alanna Raven play one track - serrated electronic beats over which she raps rhymes about a misfit. The line about not taking advice from Bobby Brown garners some knowing cheers before the song ends with a convincing a cappella.

Santos has invested well in their sound system and the Missy Elliott song that drops next sounds fantastic. Timbaland's vintage but still futuristic beats also feature in Alanna Raven's solid and funky DJ set.

Kenley Collins of Project Runway welcomes us in a slightly more formal fashion before inviting Sarah Tone In back for another song. She's a trouper, gamely rapping to the small crowd and not taking indifference for an answer. Truth be told, she has serious potential and its good to hear a female rapper immune to that Gucci Gucci Kesha Kitty Pryde bullshit.

The rhythms take a slightly different turn when the organization's founder Devi Mambouka herself spins for a few minutes, edging into DJ/Rupture territory, before Bijoux's turn on stage. Bijoux comes with a rock edge thanks to her pink hair, 4/4 beats and anthemic choruses. Fat Tony inserts a lighthearted rap and their genuine chemistry is obvious. They're one and done and Mambouka starts rocking her laptop again. She's the real deal and may very well be one of NYC's best kept secrets - at least to me.

I can't lie - the nonprofit professional in me cringes slightly when a live auction of original artwork is sprung on the sparse crowd. Fortunately, the auctioneer is unflappable and it's over quickly. Mambouka is next to the stage and she and her brother give a little background on the mission of the foundation, which is rooted in their experiences as artistically inclined immigrants from Gabon being raised in the Bronx. The funds raised tonight, and through their IndieGogo campaign, will provide after-school art and music programming to the kids at the West Harlem Residence. Good people, good intentions, and I'm sure they'll do good things.

Speeches done, the five members of Napoleon fill the small stage and launch into their set. Having only listened to their album once, I am immediately struck by how many songs I recognize. The bright, dense treble of Julien O'neill's Gibson SG meshes nicely with the sparser sound of Jared Walker's hollow body guitar while Julian Anderson's taut, spacious bass lines keep things moving. Harrison Keithline's drums are locked in tight and the sound is filled out by their new keyboard player who makes the biggest impression on the last song, a new one they plan to record next week.

Napoleon

I like Napoleon's approach, which is slightly reminiscent of The Walkmen with a healthy dose of new wave and a sprinkle of psychedelia, ska and reggae. They have several strong songs and, like The Walkmen, are not afraid to wear their hearts on their sleeves. I'm looking forward to more from them.

I step into the foyer to try to get a better cell signal and chat with the two Julian and Julien for a while - nice guys - and when I walk back in I am confronted by a topless woman on stage. She's singing in a monotone over programmed tracks reminiscent of Suicide. This must be No Bra. While her music is not entirely uninteresting, the complete lack of humor - or any kind of emotional modulation - quickly grows wearying.

She finally finishes and another young DJ takes over, laying down a devastating mix that includes noise rock, Led Zeppelin, Tame Impala, and The Slits. It's refreshing and brings me back to a night over 30 years ago on Laight street, just a few blocks from Santos, when I first danced to I Heard It Though The Grapevine.

Now, Sean Lennon may think Mystical Weapons is an easy gig, but it's anything but easy for his roadie who takes quite some time getting everything in order. Saunier's kit is basic, but Lennon's rig includes a couple of guitars, a bass, some keyboards and a mind-boggling array of effects pedals and other electronics. There is no ado - they get on stage and begin. Unlike their terrific album, there are few moments of space or contemplation: the music goes from fury to rage, the volume from loud to louder. Lennon is all over the stage, expertly making use of all that stuff, and the roadie proves to be an honorary third member as he remains completely available to Sean, whether to tune the bass, hand over a guitar, or keep the stage relatively clear so Lennon doesn't trip over something.

Minutes into the set, the slightly larger audience is mostly pressed up against the stage, soaking up the glorious noise. I go into tunnel vision, my focus becoming absolute on Lennon and Saunier's hairpin turns and juddering stops and starts. My hyper-attentiveness is completely rewarded, and while I acknowledge Martha Colburn's visuals on the small screen, the real movie is in my mind. Saunier is likely one of the best drummers in America right now and his ability to make everything groove is one of the elements that make Mystical Weapons work so well. He can pursue abstraction but is rarely far from finding the backbeat or funk in whatever Lennon throws at him - which is a lot. From motorik loops to screaming wah wah and feedback drenched solos, and from grungy bass lines to swooping electronic washes, Lennon is blissfully all over the map.

Sean Lennon

Greg Saunier and that hard-working roadie

They play continuously for about 40 minutes before doing an encore of sorts by switching positions, Sean at the drums, but we're all pretty much spent. Whether Mystical Weapons is an ongoing project or just another byway in Lennon's fascinating career, I'm very glad to have had a chance to witness one his and Saunier's brilliant excursions.

More power to Devi Mambouka and the America Mambouka foundation. Yes, it was a bit of a mess, but it all worked out in the end. As I hail a cab on nearly-deserted Canal Street, I'm thinking that when word gets out about the kind of party they throw, it's highly unlikely that there will be many more half-empty rooms in their future.

Bob Marley

2013-02-06T10:37:00.001-08:00

It seems fashionable in some hipster circles to dismiss Bob Marley, as if he didn't make REAL reggae, like Augustus Pablo or Linval Thompson or Burning Spear or Junior Murvin. I can sort of see why some people might feel that way. He wasn't the most innovative of the reggae greats and, while he could sing sweetly, he didn't have the deliciously light touch of Gregory Isaacs or Dennis Brown.

None of that matters, however, because by the time he died, Bob no longer belonged to reggae, he belonged to the world. Through his incredible songwriting and otherworldly personal magnetism he became a global superstar, some even said a prophet.

Even that doesn't matter to me, though, because I have my own personal relationship with his music. Rarely have I taken such deep pleasure and succor from an artist. When I was 16 I got the Exodus album and listened to it every day for the summer. Since only the lyrics to the title track were printed, I painstakingly wrote the rest out. Through that process, I learned about Marcus Garvey and Paul Bogle, and was led to an in-depth study of Jamaican history and culture, which continues to this day.

Years later, a song from Exodus got me through one of the hardest nights of my life, when my son was in post-surgical pain and I sang him to sleep with Three Little Birds. The song came unbidden to my lips and worked like a charm.

Exodus was followed by the somewhat underwhelming Kaya, and then by Survival, which I've always felt was underrated. I downloaded it after not listening to it for a few years and when So Much Trouble In The World spilled into my headphones I thought "The world needs Bob Marley" - and I still feel that way. My daughter and I listen to Survival every morning on the way to the ski area and I can see that Marley has become part of her soul, too.

I have my own hipster moments when I think the weirder, rawer stuff he recorded with Lee Perry is his best work, but I love it all. I was lucky enough to see him (it was quite a night) at his second-to-last NYC concert and he was beyond charismatic, neither his singing nor his dancing humbled by his fatal illness. Think what he could have accomplished if he had lived for another 36 years - at the very least. Happy 68th birthday, Robert Nesta Marley.

Anxiety of Influence

2013-01-30T15:28:00.002-08:00

A website with the URL www.influentialalbums.com has been making the rounds, asking folks to take a survey of how many of the 100 listed albums they own. The taunting tag line is: "Very few people own 70 or more. How many have you got?" When this cropped up in my Facebook newsfeed, my first thought was: "Influential? Sez who?" So I did a Whois look up on the domain name but came up dry - the owner's name is privacy protected. Based on how quickly the quiz has spread, and my knowledge of how much social media integration can cost, I figure it has to be a company with some marketing dollars behind it.

Update: In comments that he later deleted, the creator of the list had this to say: "This is hilarious! "I figure it has to be a company with some marketing dollars behind it". The rest of it is quite accurate. I didn't really put a great deal of thought into it. I didn't foresee this thing getting as big as it has. I just wanted to have a go at a Facebook app. It is really a 'best albums' thing compiles from other lists and some of my record collection. I couldn't find a decent domain name so stuck with 'influential'. Nice article/blog, though." See below for more of his thoughts.

While I certainly think a discussion of influential albums is a good idea, if only to carve out some space for music that distinguishes itself by something other than sales, one has to ask what the agenda behind this list is. Upon even a cursory look, it definitely has a "rockist" bent, some might even say a white bent. Of the 100 albums listed, only four are what might be called black music: What's Going On, Innervisions, It Takes A Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back and Blue Lines. If I wanted to be generous and include bands led by African-Americans, the number would increase to six, with the inclusion of Axis: Bold As Love and Forever Changes. But that's a stretch.

Whoever put this list together should be ashamed on that count alone. Where is the Robert Johnson, Little Richard, Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, Ray Charles, Ike & Tina, The Isley Brothers, James Brown, Smokey Robinson, Marvelettes, Aretha Franklin, Otis Redding, Albert King, Sly Stone, P-Funk, Bob Marley, Michael Jackson, Lee Perry, Isaac Hayes, Curtis Mayfield, The Meters, Chic, Donna Summer, Prince, Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five, Run DMC, Tupac Shakur, Notorious B.I.G., OutKast, Mobb Deep, Missy Elliott, 50 Cent, R. Kelly, Dr. Dre, D'Angelo, Jay-Z, Kanye West - I have to stop now because I'm just getting angry. Do these people even listen to music?

Also completely ignored is the world of Jamaican music, which, between the production innovations of dub and the idea of "toasting" over music, has transformed the world of popular music over the course of the last 40 years. Jazz is pitifully represented by a single album, Take Five by the Dave Brubeck Quartet. Good thing Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Charlie Parker, Billie Holliday, Charles Mingus, Thelonious Monk, John Coltrane, and, oh yeah, Miles Davis have good old Dave's cocktail hour classic to represent their 100 year tradition of innovation and syncopation. Classical music is not on the radar either, even though Terry Riley's In C, Steve Reich's Come Out, and Phillip Glass's Glassworks, not to mention the 1,000 years of music from Hildegard von Bingen to Gyorgy Ligeti, are in the DNA of much that followed.

Some of these sins of omission are due to the myopic time frame of the list. The oldest record on there is Bert Jansch's self-titled debut from 1964.That brings up a host of issues as it disinherits such minor characters as Elvis Presley and Buddy Holly, not to mention Jerry Lee Lewis. The blues and early country music, widely recognized as the very foundations of rock music, are also absent.

One thing they get sort of right is the idea that an album doesn't have to sell a lot to be influential. To some who have commented on the list, I would say that just because you haven't heard of it doesn't mean it's not influential. Perhaps the list will do some good by turning people onto some things they were unaware of. Remember, the classic line on influential music is that only 100 people bought The Velvet Underground's first album but each one of them started a band. Naturally, the "Influential Albums" people screw that one up by including the third VU album instead of the first. And that's not the only time they make an error like that, either. Including Donovan is debatable, but I think you could make a better case for Sunshine Superman over A Gift From A Flower To A Garden - and I could go on.

Seeing Gerry Rafferty's City To City on the list caused a passing thought that I was being punked.

Finally, as much as I applaud their effort to include more recent music (Radiohead, The Strokes, Arcade Fire and Bon Iver certainly deserve to be there), that it comes at the expense of hugely important artists like the ones listed above - not to mention The Yardbirds, The Who, The Doors, Black Sabbath, Elvis Costello, The Specials, Metallica - is NOT OK. But then little about this cheesy list is OK. Back to the drawing board, people!

Now, did I take the quiz? Of course I did, I'm as much a sucker for these things as anyone else. I clocked in at 48 out of 100. Out of the 52 that I don't have, there are some where I have another record by the same artist, some that I need to get, and many more that I have no interest in owning. Frankly, I thought 48 was a solid number - if you have many more than half, I might start to wonder how discerning your taste is, or if you ever pay for music. But that's a rant for a different day.

More thoughts from the creator of the list:

“If I'd called it 'my record collection and a few more that some other people might like' then I don't think it would've succeeded as much."

"Maybe it has got so big because of the controversy surrounding the 'influential' tagline. I think if I do something like this again, I'll think a bit more about what I should I call it."

"The reason the domain name is hidden is because it was bought from namecheap.com and they give you a free thing to hide your domain information. I wouldn't have bothered if it didn't come free with it. I could reveal my identity but I'm not sure that would be a good idea now. I think I've pissed off a lot of people with this thing."

Based on what he says, I'd hire him for social media consulting!

Best of the Rest of 12: Out of the Past

2013-01-27T10:11:00.001-08:00

Each year, while I spend most of my time trying to tame the tsunami of new music coming my way, I also can't ignore the flood of reissues and other older sounds. Here are a few that caught my ear.

High Temperature Soul

The Real Gone label has done something on the order of a public service with their Little Willie John collection, Complete Hit Singles: A's & B's. First of all, until now, no one except for John, the musicians, and the engineers have heard his songs sound so good. These are definitive remasters, crystal clear enough to hear the air in the horns, but still with the warmth of feeling that John infused into all his music. John ruled the charts and the Chitlin Circuit from 1955-1961 with such songs as All Around The World, the original recording of Fever, Talk To Me, Talk To Me and Sleep. His style was controlled and articulate, descending from Nat "King" Cole and Charles Brown, but with an injection of rawness that was very new. His persona was equal parts swagger and vulnerability - in his songs he was often controlled by his desire for the female object of desire and begging for relief or release. While some of the arrangements are made slightly cheesy by the overuse of backing singers, most of these songs are fresh and completely engaging.

John was a complex character, devoted to his family but also enamored of proving his toughness and manhood. This latter behavior got him in deep trouble and he died in prison at the age of 30. In his short career he charted 14 times and provided crucial inspiration to James Brown, who commemorated him on a 1968 album. Thanks to Stevie Wonder, who has worked with John's son Keith for years, he was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 1996. As much as I dislike Jack White, I give him a nod for covering I'm Shaking, hopefully leading some listeners back to the original. This is an essential collection that pays due respect to an American original. If you want to know more, Grab the excellent book Fever: Little Willie John; A Fast Life, Mysterious Death and the Birth of Soul by Susan Whitall with Kevin John.

I'm now eagerly awaiting Real Gone's reissue of Freddie King's complete King and Federal singles.

Still Celebrating

I went off on this when it was released, but I'm now even more convinced that Celebration Day by Led Zeppelin is firmly deserving of a place in their legendary canon, alongside other the other posthumous releases How The West Was Won and BBC Sessions. In the world of classical music, we're used to multiple interpretations of pieces, often many years removed from their composition. In a way Zeppelin bring that idea to classic rock, presenting the songs with all the passion and brilliance we expect but without nostalgia, demonstrating the continuing relevance of their work. In this way, I suspect it is unique in the history of rock music and will likely remain so for quite a while.

Their Mission, Your Trance

A recent feature in Mojo Magazine made it quite clear that even Jim Kerr and his fellow Simple Minds realize that their best material is contained on their first five albums. Or maybe they just wanted to sell a few more copies of X5, which puts all those records, with extensive bonus tracks, into to a nice (and nicely priced) little package. Combining a tough rhythm section with atmospheric keyboards and guitars and Kerr's warm but stentorian baritone, the music on these albums defines the sound of the post-punk and new wave eras and is free of the arena-ready posturing that mars much of their later work.

Uncanned and Uncanny

The amazing thing about The Lost Tapes, the staggering three CD set of previously unreleased music from Can's peak years (1968-74) is that the ratio of jaw-droppingly great tracks to frustrating and self-indulgent ones is exactly the same as it is on their classic albums. Do not hesitate.

Manchester Movement

Not many people know that Factory Records, known for such exemplars of post punk and dance music as Joy Division, New Order and Happy Mondays, was also briefly the home to a reggae band. X-O-Dus only released one 12" but it's a doozy, containing two long tracks, masterfully produced by dub specialist Dennis Bovell. The long-awaited English Black Boys collection beautifully presents those two songs as well as tracks from an unreleased follow-up album, most of which are excellent. They were developing into a band that could come hard with politically-minded cuts like the two on the 12" and also bring a deliciously light lover's rock touch to songs like If You Need My Lovin. It seems like the band atomized around the same time Factory lost interest in releasing any more reggae! but we can enjoy it now - except for the last three songs, which are real scraps and should have remained on the factory floor.

Versions of Versions

Another year and another great Lee Perry compilation from Pressure Sounds. The Sound Doctor holds 24 killer cuts, direct from dub plates and 12" singles. The sound is dense, hissy and addictive. Perhaps some of the vocalists are not the best Perry worked with, but this is in no way the bottom of any barrel. Also, thanks to Other Music, who also tipped me to the X-O-Dus reissue, I recently learned of two other Perry-related releases that demand investigation: Disco Devil and Presents Candy McKenzie, both on Trojan. The first collects 12" mixes from 1977 and the second is an unreleased album, also from 1977. Perhaps Trojan rejected it at the time because their attention was taken up by deathless masterpieces like Heart of the Congos and Police and Thieves, which Perry also recorded in that annus mirabilis.

2012 also saw fascinating collections focusing on groundbreaking work by Laurie Spiegel, whose severe electronic music was memorably featured in The Hunger Games, and Leslie Winer, one of those uncategorizable denizens of the NYC scene. However, I'll merely point you in their direction as I haven't had a chance to digest them. Besides, with the end of January on the horizon it's time to throw myself fully into the 2013 and the wonderful year of music ahead.

Best of the Rest of 12: Legacy Acts

2013-01-26T07:24:00.000-08:00

These are all acts with histories, boldly forging ahead in their own idiosyncratic ways.

Steely Gaze

Sunken Condos, the latest from Donald Fagen, has him once again turning his acerbic eye on contemporary society. Although it's his first album made without using the big production values that we've come to expect from the Steely Dan camp, it sounds absolutely fantastic, with a rich bass and gleaming keys. His voice is also a delight, demonstrating a mastery of phrasing that can only come from singing for decades. The songs are far more energetic than his last solo effort, the disappointing Morph The Cat, and overall Sunken Condos is a great listen. While a few of the tracks are just too familiar to allow it in the pantheon, his mind-blowing cover of the Isaac Hayes obscurity Out Of The Ghetto shows that Fagen still has a few surprises up his sleeve.

The Family That Destroys Angels Together

How To Destroy Angels, Trent Reznor's latest project, featuring his his wife, Mariqueen Maandig, along with frequent collaborators Atticus Ross and Rob Sheridan, has been quietly establishing themselves over the last couple of years. On their second EP, An Omen, Maandig's feather-light voice seems to have inspired some new approaches. This is especially evident on the gorgeous song Ice Age, which features an interlocking arrangement of acoustic sounds that could be a cross between a Swiss watch and a Harry Partch composition. All five songs are strong and demonstrate Reznor's masterful production skills. The album is slated for March 5th, 2013.

Empire Of The Sean

Sean Lennon has pursued his career at what looks like a relaxed pace, but in 2012 I noticed an increased level of activity at Chimera Music, his label. It's all rather intertwined - his side projects have side projects - but I have been keeping a closer eye on the goings on. The Chimera MusicSampler goes off in a number of directions with the general flavor of arty ear candy for fans of Cornelius and Cibo Matto. I was also glad to see a full-length electric album by The Ghost of a Saber Tooth Tiger, his band with girlfriend Charlotte Kemp Muhl. For some odd reason it was only available on their 2010 tour until now. Grab it.

Kemp Muhl first began making music with her childhood friend, Eden Rice, when they were in elementary school. After the disruption of Kemp's international modeling career, they got back together as Kemp & Eden. From what I understand, some of the songs on their debut Black Hole Lace are from their teenage years - and it shows. The lyrics are often cringingly sophomoric. However, their harmonic chemistry, gorgeous voices and versatile instrumental skills carry the day and promise great things. Sparrow features a haunting melody that does not dissipate until long after the song has ended. With The GOSTT seemingly on hiatus as Lennon pursues his Mystical Weapons project with Greg Saunier, perhaps Kemp & Eden will turn out some new songs where everything comes together.

Eno Deluxe
I had a wonderful experience at a listening event for Brian Eno's Lux, his first new ambient work in some years. It was further proof that he is master of that particular domain and has become more assured as a composer since his groundbreaking ambient albums of the 1970's. It's acceptable to put it on in the background, but taking the time to slow down and just listen will be richly rewarding.

Best of the Rest of 12: Dub Inflected

2013-01-25T16:03:00.000-08:00

Here's a few that draw on the world of dub, proving that reggae's influence continues unabated.

Frk Out
Other Music, my favorite record store in Manhattan, sends out terrific monthly updates with both passionate and knowledgeable reviews of new releases. I admit to sometimes skimming them due to time constraints. However, I wish I had seen their original mention of Icon Give Thank, which ended up on their best of 2012 list and might have been on mine had I heard it earlier. This beautifully bizarre record, volume nine in the FRKWYS series, is a collaboration between two west coast experimentalists, Sun Araw and M. Geddes Gengras, with reggae legends The Congos. It goes down like a dub dream with the still-heavenly voices of The Congos weaving in and out through the colorful soundscapes created by the two younger musicians. It's the best record of this kind since Ethiopian great Mulatu Astatke met The Heliocentrics back in 2008.

Black Ark Wisconsin
Wisconsin's own dub architects, Peaking Lights, released Lucifer in 2012 and it's their strongest record yet. Continuing their project to meld Black Ark era dub with atmospheric melodies reminiscent of Krautrock, Cocteau Twins and Perfume Tree, musician-producer Aaron Coyes and singer Indra Dunis weave a hypnotic spell. The spell can be extended with, yes, Lucifer In Dub, which is enjoyably redundant. If you're on Spotify, take a trip through Coyes's brain by seeking out his playlist.

Make-Believe Master
Santigold is a frustrating artist. She's undeniably talented but from this side of the headphones at least, often seems to be trying too hard. However, if she keeps coming up with heady, perfect songs like Disparate Youth, there's a hell of a greatest hits collection in her future - and ours.

Dancehall Daze
Rub-A-Dub Style: The Roots of Modern Dancehall is an essential and fascinating book by Beth Lesser, who is practically an honorary Jamaican at this point. She's spent a lot of time down there and has spoken to nearly everyone alive who can talk about the rise of reggae and dancehall culture. For a reggae fan, it's pure joy. She takes fantastic pictures, too!

Best of the Rest of 12: Composed & Contemporary

2013-01-24T10:04:00.000-08:00

The world of composed, orchestral, instrumental and avant garde music is a wonderful rabbit hole to explore - and explore I did in 2012.

Go Jonny Go
Even with Radiohead on a massive and brilliant world tour, guitarist and composer Jonny Greenwood somehow managed to put out two records in 2012. The first, a collaboration with his lifelong hero, Polish composer Krzysztof Penderecki, features a kind of call and response between the two musicians. Penderecki's Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima is a signature work of the 60's and inspired Greenwood's Popcorn Superhet Receiver, which was also used in his score for There Will Be Blood. 48 Responses to Polymorphia takes off from Penderecki's Polymorphia, which was based on the brainwaves of people listening to the Threnody.

While it is certainly gratifying to see Greenwood realizing his ambition to work with his inspiration, as someone who is deeply engaged with musical modernism and the avant garde, I don't think Penderecki necessarily represents the best of the 20th Century. While Kubrick's use of his music in both 2001: A Space Odyssey and the Shining was highly effective, that may actually be a result of something lacking in the music when listened to on its own. That said, everything on the Penderecki/Greenwood album is expertly and passionately presented and is certainly worth a listen.

I have no such reservations regarding Greenwood's score for The Master, the latest Oscar bait from Paul Thomas Anderson. Greenwood shows his greatest command of instrumentation and texture yet on pieces that have spontaneously inspired my own emotional narrative to accompany them. He also slots in period songs seamlessly, such as the impossibly lush Ella Fitzgerald recording of Get Thee Behind Me Satan. It's Greenwood's most satisfying and accomplished soundtrack and he seems poised to join the greats of cinematic music. It's disappointing that he will once again go unrecognized at the Oscars. Like Mahler, his time will come.

New Music Cavalcade

Old favorites Brooklyn Rider, crowdsourced the production of their latest album, Seven Steps, and I was happy to pledge my support. It featured two great new compositions, the group-composed title track, and Christopher Tignor's wonderful Together Into This Unknowable Night, contrasted with Beethoven's String Quartet in C-sharp Minor, Op. 131. I'm no purist, but despite my early enthusiasm, in the end I remained unconvinced by their rendition of the latter. It seemed somehow less than the sum of its parts, although there were some fascinating parts. However, the new pieces make Seven Steps a worthy addition to their catalogue.

I discovered the fascinating Line Imprint on a trip to DC and picked up one of of their limited edition releases, Seth Cluett's Objects Of Memory. Like a lot of their releases, Cluett's work exists at the intersection of ambient music, minimalism, and sound art. This means that you sometimes can barely hear anything - but you want to. Further investigation required.

Over the summer, my daughter and I were lucky to attend Missy Mazzoli's River To River concert, which featured two pieces from her opera, Song From The Uproar. While the recording can't quite match the primal power of seeing Abigail Fischer sing the lead role in concert accompanied by Stephen Taylor's haunting projections, it's still an absorbing, dramatic listen, and shows further evolution in the work of this exciting young composer.

Mazzoli's work also featured prominently in Maya Beiser's "CelloOpera" Elsewhere, which premiered at BAM last fall. While not a complete success, it was a further demonstration of Beiser's outsized talents as a performer. Her playing is also flawless on her latest album, Time Loops, anchored by Michael Harrison's Just Ancient Loops, an absorbing and emotional new composition. The takes on the Bach/Gounod Ave Maria and Arvo Pärt's Spiegel Im Spiegel do not do much for me, but the album ends strongly with Harrison's Raga Prelude and Francisco Nunez's substantial and varied Hijaz, featuring the Young People's Chorus of New York City. Here's hoping Beiser's next recording is Salt, the Mazzoli section of Elsewhere, with Helga Davis, the astonishing vocalist who sang the premiere.

2012 saw the death of Elliott Carter, who was still composing as he neared his 104th birthday. Alisa Weilerstein released her take on his concise and explosive cello concerto just days before Carter died and, with the able assistance of Daniel Barenboim on the podium, this is likely a definitive recording. In pairing it with the Elgar concerto and Bruch's Kol Nidre, both of which have been recorded dozens of times, Decca seemed to be more concerned with business matters than musical ones, however. Here's a tip: because the movements are short, you can download just the Carter from Amazon for under $7.

For All Seasons
Vivaldi's The Four Seasons is a warhorse if there ever was one - but it's given new life in Max Richter's "recomposition," featuring the stylish violin playing of Daniel Hope. It received a rapturous reception when performed late in 2012 at Le Poisson Rouge, and rightfully so. Encompassing minimalism, ambience, and paying homage to the dance rhythms of the original, Richter's piece more than stands on it's own.

Transcending FatCat
The estimable FatCat label (Breton, etc.) initiated a new subsidiary last year, 130701, to focus on "post-classical" music and as a first shot across the bow released the excellent Transcendentalism EP. Featuring gorgeous and adventurous new music from Dustin O'Halloran, Hauschka, and Johann Johannsson, it's an exciting introduction to their aim to bridge the gap between post-rock and contemporary classical.

Sax Stories
Matthew Silberman seems to see "jazz" not just as an opportunity for blowing his horn but as a method to creating a mood and telling stories through sound. His debut album, Questionable Creatures, features an unusual two-guitar line-up and fulfills that mission to a tee. Special mention to Tommy Crane, bringing the heat on drums.