Rock
June Carter Cash
By Brian Barney JUNE CARTER CASH Wildwood Flower Dualtone Records The heartbreaking beauty of June Carter Cash’s last record, Wildwood Flower, defies description. The tracks flow in an autobiographical movement, where the purest of instrumentation provides the background for songs that tell the stories of a life based on tradition, and values that escape the trappings of politics and trend. The CD is an obvious final testament to her 2002 visit to her parents’ home in Virginia, where she sat on the back porch, singing family classics with husband Johnny, and her cousins, Janette and Joe Carter. What followed was a two day recording session producing 14 songs, eight of which are heard on Wildwood Flower. Opening track “Keep on the Sunny Side” sets the tone with rich, full bodied, piercingly bright 6-strings that provide accompaniment to her voice which, while somewhat quavering, resonates with as much strength and emotion as the version recorded by her late mother on the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band’s Will The Circle Be Unbroken. The enchantment continues throughout with gut-wrenchers like “Storms Are On The Ocean” with its’ string arrangements so achingly beautiful that…well…let’s just say, it could set a grown man to weepin’. There is also an air of fun and abandon in tracks like “Temptation,” and snippets of conversation between June and family spanning time from early Opry days to the current sessions. Standout tracks featuring flat top at its’ best can be found in “Alcatraz” and “Cannonball Blues,” while gospel meant for hand holding and praise is displayed in classics like “Anchored in Love.” The Carter/Cash coalition has long been considered by many to be the most important and influential contribution to Americana and country music ever, and proof of that is certainly found in this must-have record.
Oct 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
Oh My God
By Brian Barney OH MY GOD Interrogations and Confessions Novo Records www.ohmygodmusic.com Since their reincarnation under their current moniker in 2000, Chicago’s art rock trio, Oh My God has been creating a national buzz, prompting kudos from the likes of VH1 and Rolling Stone Magazine without the support of a major label. Their third full-length release, Interrogations and Confessions, is another step upward in this highly original band’s climb to the top. No guitars needed here, as the keyboard genius of Iguana brings on a Leslie-driven tidal wave that drenches the listener with an erratic, quirky smoothness showing a flip side that has more muscle than any stack of Marshalls can muster. Lead singer/bass player (and Milwaukee native) Billy O’Neill fronts with a theatrical flare and a voice that has Sinatra’s smoothness with the edginess of Bono at his best. Newest addition, Bish, holds things together with a drumming style that leaves the novices awed and experts impressed. The disc is a bit of a departure, with a few tracks that seem to creep toward the fringes of the mainstream. Cuts like “Our Loves” and “Shine,” show radio friendliness, while the driving, almost ballad-like beauty of “February 14” (in this writer’s opinion, the record’s high point) has a flavor that could easily be described as national. For those of you who have come to love the band for its’ eclectic and “artsy” side, don’t despair; songs like “Tom” and “Rat Man’s Confession” along with the bicep flexing drive of “Volatile” and “Get Steady” will leave you with plenty to chew on. In a recent interview, Iguana talked about their struggles on the road. “We played 114 shows last year covering both coasts, and only had a hotel twice. Hard touring has caused us to look inward” he stated. The boys seem to have done just that, coming up with yet another body of work that is as unpredictable as it is accessible. There is no filler on this album. Like all their prior work, OMG’s latest is a work of art.
Oct 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
Warren Zevon
By John Hughes WARREN ZEVON The Wind Artemis Records www.warrenzevon.com Before Warren Zevon died in early September, he assembled an all-star cast of friends to help him craft his own epitaph — a final CD recorded in the aftershock of his fatal diagnosis. A songwriter’s songwriter, he maintained great integrity throughout his career, no matter what the prevailing fashion. May he rest in peace. We are treated to much more than a parting novelty. In The Wind, Zevon takes us on a tour of American music. He sings like Woody Guthrie on the opening cut. From there he tours us through a Springsteen-esque rocker, hyper-charged by Bruce himself; and the Dylan classic “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” done with a touch of gospel. He gives us a blues romp and songs sung like Jackson Browne and Willie Nelson. “Prison Grove,” a standout effort that could have been pulled from the Lomax field recordings songbook, is highlighted by a chain-gang chorus of Springsteen, Browne, Jordan Zevon, Jorge Calderon, T Bone Burnett and Billy Bob Thornton. There are also two sensitive, lovely ballads, written and played straight, sung just like Warren Zevon. He deploys his friends — especially Ry Cooder, Emmylou Harris, Springsteen and Calderon — with maximum efficiency. It all adds up beautifully, for ten songs. But all this is just so much clearing of the throat as Zevon prepares us for song 11, the dramatic finale. In the final song of his life, Zevon blesses us with an extraordinary moment — a dying man bids adieu. He wrote the song for his two children, but sings it for everyone. He taps deep emotion without being maudlin. He stands tall in his deathbed. His last request? “Keep me in your heart for awhile.” Yes, Warren. Will do.
Oct 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
Elvis Costello
By Jon M. Gilbertson ELVIS COSTELLO North Deutsche Grammophon www.elviscostello.com As he grows older and perhaps wiser, Elvis Costello increasingly resembles another former enfant terrible from the UK: writer Martin Amis. Both sons of notable practitioners of their respective arts, both more famous than their fathers, they are almost embarrassingly skillful and variegated: Amis the novelist, reviewer, journalist; Costello the explorer of New Wave, Tin Pan Alley, country & western, rhythm & blues. Costello’s latest album, North, finds him meditating in the gorgeously melancholy shadows once inhabited by Cole Porter, the Gershwins et al. He’s been there before, but never so deeply. His facility with the forms – particularly the alternately lush and spare arrangements, which include a horn nonet, the classically trained Brodsky Quartet, and Attractions keyboardist Steve Nieve — recalls the clarion blurb on Amis’ last paperback, 2002’s The War Against Cliché: Essays and Reviews 1971-2000: “Is there anything Martin Amis can’t write about?” Indeed. Is there any musical style Elvis Costello can’t master? More to the point, does a creative chameleon eventually forget or lose sight of what he’s best at? The most devoted Costello fan, asked to define the man’s essence, would reach for the early work, its electric guitars and tumbling wordplay. Yet North deserves better than polite applause. Even more than Painted From Memory, Costello’s much-lauded collaboration with Burt Bacharach, these 11 songs weep with the admission of a romanticism usually thwarted by irony or buried in anger. From the desperation of “You Left Me in the Dark” to the serenity of “I’m in the Mood Again,” North is about passionately careful artistry. It is about Elvis Costello’s cracked but strong baritone register. It is about grace in the teeth of love. Above all, North is about hopes: betrayed, dashed, renewed, fulfilled. The album represents the outpouring of a beating heart, not another notch in an artist’s impressive catalog.
Oct 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
Nappy Roots
By John Hughes NAPPY ROOTS Wooden Leather Atlantic www.nappyroots.com Nappy Roots are the best musicians to come out of Kentucky since Joan Osborne, and a lot more fun. On this CD, like a champion racehorse at the Kentucky Derby, they burst out of the gate, grab an early lead, hold the pace despite some stumbles, and surge to a win. I am a 46-year-old white male, on whom the charm of hip-hop is often lost, and I can’t get enough of Nappy Roots. They have an infectious groove on 15 of these 18 songs; if you’re at all well they’ll get you on your feet, shaking it and clapping. The glorification of violence and misogyny so prevalent in much of rap is absent here. These gentlemen obviously have been listening to country blues, traditional soul gospel, Caribbean rhythms and Philadelphia soul, as well as hip-hop. But they are not at all derivative. They carry their forbearers in their hearts while living in the present, and create a vibe of joy and freedom. Nappy Roots are deeply proud of their rural background, and consequently remind me of the defunct, lamented, Arrested Development. But these ambassadors of the Bluegrass State are more lovable than Speech and Company, because Nappy Roots deploy funny vocal stylings, and avoid prophetic pretension. It’s just a rhythm party from start to finish, marred by a few bad songs, but ultimately ready for the Winner’s Circle. Yea, Kentucky!
Oct 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
Marj Hahne
By Russ Bickerstaff MARJ HAHNE notspeak When the instruments and singing voices are left out of audio, all that remains is the music of spoken ideas. In her poetry CD notspeak, Marj Hahne presents a gently flowing symphony of ideas almost completely devoid of music. What little music there is serves more as a segue to the next track than an accompaniment. The tracks add up to 39 minutes of audio, but there is far more here than a pleasant half hour. The CD contains 21 tracks that serve as doorways into a microcosm of familiar worlds that grow richer in depth with repeated listenings. Hahne’s childhood Barbies wore only go-go boots, and she describes them in the same tone and rhythms she uses when evoking a bug splattering on a windshield. One track honors New York with the words, “minus the twins.” It is one of the few points in the CD where Hahne’s cadence picks up a bit. She has a dreamy precision, hypnotic in its stark simplicity. Concrete pastel words form linguistic landscapes spoken in a voice lost somewhere near the horizon of its own distant rhythm. This is the kind of relaxing experience that can electrify when the last track ends, the dream lifts and the senses return. Interested in obtaining notspeak?Contact Marj Hahne at: marjhahne@earthlink.net.
Oct 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
Frank Black and the Catholics
Frank Black and the Catholics Show Me Your Tears spinART www.spinartrecords.com/bands_frankblack.html The standard spiel about Frank Black could apply to any other seminal rock ‘n’ roll figure (Bob Mould, say) who presaged the alternative-rock insurrection but neither profited heavily from it nor died conveniently young. The line goes like this: “He hasn’t done anything great since he was in [insert band name here].” This cuts deeply in Black’s case because, more than anyone else, the Pixies — his band back when he was Black Francis — defined the edgy dynamics that Nirvana used to sell millions of records, inject electricity back into radio, destroy metal temporarily, etc. And after the Pixies disintegrated, Black formed a new band, the Catholics, with whom he’s cranked out rock ‘n’ roll that has been frequently good, sometimes better than good, but never quite so scintillating as the earlier flashes of fire. Show Me Your Tears is Black’s latest. Like most of his work in the last few years, it sounds as if he’s decided to reduce not merely his own expectations but those of everyone else as well. It’s just 13 songs ranging from the dark, stalking rockabilly of “Nadine” to the airy brooding roots-rock of “Manitoba,” with influences like Tex-Mex and spaghetti Westerns in between. None of the songs qualifies as a genuine waste of time, but Black’s voice — mostly low grit with the occasional leavening of melody or falsetto — lacks tension. The elastic snap that would propel the music past its own fleeting pleasures simply doesn’t happen. Show Me Your Tears, the title says, but Black gives out mere traces of tears, blood and sweat: the bodily fluids of art.
Sep 1st, 2003 by Jon Gilbertson
Fountains of Wayne
By Brian Barney Fountains of Wayne Welcome Interstate Managers S-Curve Records www.fountainsofwayne.com With their third release to date, Welcome Interstate Managers, New York’s Fountains of Wayne has cemented their standing as one of the great all-time pop acts of recent years. Song writing duo Adam Schlesinger and Chris Collingwood, along with former Posie Judy Porter and drummer Brian Young, have crafted yet another collection of songs that take the best of the timeless catchiness reminiscent of groups ranging from The Monkees to The Knack. Polished with style is the flavor of the day in hit-worthy tracks like “Stacey’s Mom” and “Little Red Light” where hard-edged guitars meet melody lines that remain stuck in the brain from the first listen. The jangly, slightly overdriven layering of vintage guitars through vox amplification resounds throughout in tunes such as “No Better Place.” Although the subject matter of cell phones and late appointments may wax redundant, the volley between electric and down right pretty acoustic in tracks like “Valley Winter Song” keeps things fresh and interesting. A precious gem lies hidden under this vast mountain of pop in the country snippet “Hung Up On You,” which features a guest appearance by steel pedal master Robert Randolph. With equal doses of pop, twang, rock and 60s psychedelica, FOW’s latest has covered all the bases with something for everyone.
Sep 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
Eliet Brookes
By Brian Barney Eliet BrookesThe Miles Left Over Recorded poetry and spoken word do not get commercially released as often as they should. Look for it in a store and you’ll be sauntering through the same ghetto aisle that has been set aside for “comedy.” Luckily for those of us who wade through Adam Sandler, Weird Al and the Jerky Boys, there exists poetry CDs like Eliet Brookes’ The Miles Left Over — eleven tracks of sheer pleasure. Settle into a pleasant moment, fire-up the CD player, cuddle up with Brookes’ beautiful voice and don’t forget the cocktail party at the bar on the fifth track. Exquisitely produced by Brew City musician Paul Setser, each track features musical accompaniment ranging from the talents of acoustic guitarist Richard Pinney to Paul Lawson to the Aimless Blades to Setser himself. Never obtrusive, the music adds to the substance of Brookes’ voice at every turn. Brookes works from a variety of moods quite successfully. Overall, there is a sense of incredibly tranquil peace, even in the bittersweet moments of the second track, “annie from broken street.” Somewhere halfway through that fifth track, Brookes says, “of course, none of this is true.” Somehow she manages to make even something this haunting sound very reassuring. Remarkably dark moments are traveled through with great grace. Brookes’ voice is not the only one on the CD. The fifth track features cameos by poet Lisa Mahan, musicians/poets Tank Staggers, Voot Warnings Rustle of Luv and several more. And then there’s the seventh track. Eamonn O’Neill manages to make Brookes’ contemporary poetics sound vaguely like Middle English. The journey ends on an intriguingly Asian-sounding “usyoumewei, (eliet’s mantra),” as performed by singer/songwriter Mariah Myerson. Can’t find the CD? Eliet Brookes can be reached at: herontree@ecoisp.com. It is also available at Woodland Pattern. See Eliet: Sept 8: Thai Joes Sept 18: Zodiac Luxury Lounge Sept. 24: Y-Not II Sept 26: Bremen Café
Sep 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
Annie Lennox
By Brian Barney Annie Lennox Bare J Records www.alennox.net Just when it would seem that Her Grace Annie Lennox had pretty much done it all as a ground breaking artist and diva, she opens yet another door to a room of musical treasure. Introspective and engaging lyrical content cuts straight to the heart early on in “Pavement Cracks,” where the loveliness of her voice is used as an instrument with tones as full and rich as any string or woodwind can boast. Things pick up in tracks like “Bitter Pill,” where her reverence for Motown shines through with glorious background vocals (all performed by Lennox) and foot stomping rhythm. Stand out tracks like “Honestly” and “Loveliness” are Annie at her best, showing the fullness and power that has grown as the years have passed. As always, Lennox writes from the heart and soul, displaying in tunes like “Twisted” and “A Thousand Beautiful Things,” the sort of depth and emotion few artists can grasp as wholly as she. Closing track, “Oh God,” serves as the perfect point of decrescendo with haunting melody and breathy lilt. It’s been twelve releases since Annie’s gone solo, and she shows no sign of slowing. This CD is a MUST have.
Sep 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
Josh Rouse
Josh Rouse 1972 Rykodisc www.joshrouse.com Mosh Rouse slides away from easy comparisons today’s demographic culture requires. He manifests some of the shyness of Nick Drake; he sings with some of the grainy charm of Paul Westerberg; he can move with the quiet heard in late-period Yo La Tengo; and he reveals his romantic side in the shy, sly manner of many other modern singer/songwriters. Yet everything he’s done since his 1998 debut Dressed Up Like Nebraska has stepped around facile similarities, and with his fourth full-length album the step turns into a confident stride. 1972, the year Rouse was born, and the year he constantly evokes here, as if he remembered and assimilated everything he heard on the radio while he was learning to speak and walk. Instead of merely regurgitating those memories—not hard to do, as demonstrated by every guitar-toting hustler who owns a couple Beck records—Rouse frames them in the current century. The flute, the backing vocals, the walking bass line of “Comeback (Light Therapy)” or the soul strings of “James” should carry the mustiness of leisure suits left too long in storage, but Rouse wields the old signifiers with respect instead of reverence. The signifiers respond openly and fully, so that songs like the blushing, lovesexy “Under Your Charms” and the carnival-ride “Slaveship” come as new messages from a past with which no one is finished. Least of all Rouse, who once again manages a kind of individuality within the swirl of the tantalizingly familiar.
Sep 1st, 2003 by Jon Gilbertson
Inn
By Brian Barney Inn Inn Io Records With a sound the band itself describes as “tronic groove”, Milwaukee’s Inn has used calculative strategy and loose jam to create a truly unique sound. Their self titled debut release waffles between coffee house techno and an almost 80s club style, where Depeche Mode-like beats and a Pearl Jam approach toward electric guitar are held together with spatial keyboard. Track after track, the hypnotic mood continues, mimicking a movie soundtrack that features serious scenes taking place in seedy bars. Opening track “Nirvana” sets the tone, melodic and weaving to a perfect fade. The music seems to hold its’ own at a predictable clip up to track 7, entitled “Low Resolution.” Here the feel seems to modulate towards ambient, and structure is abandoned in track 8, “Gibbous (Beta),” a thirty second musical interlude that could easily be mistaken for the theme from Shaft. The “stand out” track (last on the record), “Trek,” features trippy guitar and bass lines winding around grinding saturated vocals for the heaviest, yet most accessible offering overall. The strength of the disc most definitely lies in its’ diversity. Middle Eastern influenced lead lines, off kilter melody with catchy, often spooky counter melodies blend with what can be described as fantastic rhythm trackings in a creditable attempt in originality. Step into Inn’s Inn for a freshman effort well worth sampling.
Sep 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
