Pratt Songs

Bettye LaVette: The Scene of the Crime

2009-03-10T10:29:00.001-04:00

As a rule, I don't like singers who only perform other people's songs. We don't celebrate authors who simply re-tell other writer's stories, and we don't go to galleries to see paintings by artists who blatantly copy other artists, so why should we praise singers who only sing other people's songs?

Bettye LaVette has made me reconsider the value of my rule. LaVette does magical things to other people's songs. She finds things in the originals that none of us knew were there, and she reinvents the songs based on her discoveries.

Music:
On the surface, this album is similar to LaVette's first release on Anti Records. On closer listen, though, it feels totally different. This album seems darker and more painful than I've Got My Own Hell to Raise. Almost as if LaVette raised her hell, and is now sitting in the aftermath, looking around at how different things have become.

The Scene of the Crime is unquestionably a soul record, but hints of rock and country flow through it. It might be because producer Patterson Hood and most of LaVette's session band are all members of alt-country heavyweights Drive-By Truckers, or it might be because LaVette understands all great music shares a common spirit that transcends categorization. Take a listen to Willie Nelson's "Somebody Pick Up My Pieces" and you'll hear how LaVette found the soul inside a great a country song.

And don't even get me started on her rendition of Elton John's "Talking Old Soldiers". This one gives me chills.

Packaging:
The liner notes follow the same basic theme as LaVette's last album: simple design, minimal use of color, a few stark photos, detailed credits, and an essay. The essay is well-written, and it gives me an appreciation for pretty much every person and place that was involved in the making of this record. On the downside, the photos -- mostly of the vintage studio gear from Muscle Shoals' Fame Studios -- are generic, and the striped back cover doesn't make any sense. I guess it's supposed to represent the stripes on a prison uniform, but it just looks like some kind of random, seizure-inducing optical illusion.

Listen if you like: Tina Turner, Wilson Pickett, Drive-By Truckers

If it were food, it'd be: a late-night shot of whiskey in a lonely Alabama dive bar

Celebration: The Modern Tribe

2009-03-06T06:18:00.001-05:00

Three things about Celebration piqued my interest when I first heard of them: they're tight with TV On The Radio, they're on 4AD records, and they're local.

I was excited to hear TV On The Radio's David Sitek work as a producer instead of a band member; 4AD has one of the best track records of any independent label out there; and even though I'm sadly ignorant about the local Baltimore scene, I know we've got more than our fair share of really good bands.

Needless to say, I was very happy when I spotted The Modern Tribe on the shelf at the EPFL.

Music:
Celebration sits at a point midway between TV On The Radio and The Creatures. It has the relentless creativity and energy that both bands possess, and it combines the unusual-yet-catchy songwriting of the former with the driving percussion and horns of the latter.

The Modern Tribe gets better with each listen. My initial reactions were lukewarm, but I've been listening to the CD for a few weeks now. I put it in my stereo this morning, and I caught myself singing along with every song and getting more and more excited as the disc progressed. It's the same reaction I had to TV On The Radio's Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes, which eventually became one of my very favorite albums of the past decade. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if The Modern Tribe ends up having the same kind of hold on me.

As soon as I'm done writing this, I'm heading over to Sound Garden to pick up a copy of The Modern Tribe. I guess that probably speaks louder than any of the words I've written here, doesn't it?

Packaging:
The cover is bizarre. It looks like some kind of stage set from an awards show or a bad '70s TV variety program. It's got the dancing girls and everything. The text is printed in a metallic gold foil, which is a very nice (and expensive) touch. The thing is, the cover isn't a very good representation of the music. I'm not certain what kind of artwork would best accompany the music, but it's not this. In fact, I almost skipped right over this on the EPFL's shelves, because I assumed it was some sort of dodgy compilation of party tunes.

Listen if you like: TV On The Radio, The Creatures / Siouxsie and the Banshees, PJ Harvey's later albums, Lydia Lunch, Nick Cave

If it were food, it'd be: Stuffed jalapeno peppers

Can: Ege Bamyasi

2009-03-03T05:59:00.000-05:00

If Can's Tago Mago hadn't completely blown me away, I wouldn't have given Ege Bamyasi a second listen. That's how much I hated it the first time I heard it. But I did listen again, and then I gave it a third listen, and a fourth... and I still hated it.

Eventually, I listened on some great headphones. I heard some nice production tricks and experimental ideas buried in the background. Nice production tricks do not make a great album.

After my sixth listen, I gave up and wrote this review. Needless to say, I'm unimpressed.

Music:
Tago Mago is a complicated and challenging album that undeniably rocks. It is one of the best CDs I've checked out from EPFL.

Ege Bamyasi sounds like its dumb little brother.

I'm surprised, because every review I've read says Ege Bamyasi is a great album, 5 stars, perfect introduction to Can, yada yada yada. I don't hear it, though. The band sounds disengaged and uninterested. The songs don't do anything or go anywhere. The improvisation is dull, and the composition is uninspired. It sounds as if Can couldn't decide between being accessible or experimental, so they compromised at some boring point in the middle.

"Sing Swan Song" has the same introspective naval-gazing blandness that characterizes too much of Radiohead's music from the past decade. "One More Night" sounds like a Fela Kuti jam with no fire or passion. "Soup" starts with another dull jam, then inexplicably disintegrates into five minutes of noise that has nothing to do with the first five minutes of the song. (For what it's worth, those five minutes of noise are the most interesting thing on the album, but even they devolve into the kind of generic free-form improvisation that marked the third-rate followers of people like Ornette Coleman and... well... Can.)

The last two songs, "Spoon" and "I'm So Green," are the best on the album. Both are very short and very poppy ("Spoon" was a top 40 hit in Germany), but what's really interesting is hearing how those two songs laid the foundation for the Madchester scene that popped up about 15 years later. It's easy to listen to "I'm So Green" and imagine the Stone Roses or Primal Scream playing it.

Packaging:
Great. Another essay by David Stubbs. This one is filled with gems like, "It was all part of Can's flight from occidental hegemony in rock music." Yeah, man... rock's occidental hegemony really pisses me off.

(For those of you who don't possess a Stubbsian vocabulary, an "occidental hegemony in rock music" basically means that all the rock bands of Europe and America were oppressing the poor, struggling rock bands from the rest of the world. Apparently, when Ege Bamyasi was recorded back in '72, Can was pissed off about the way the IFWR [the International Foundation of Western Rock] was secretly conspiring to crush all of the great Asian, African, and Eastern European rock bands that were on the verge of stripping the evil patriarchal Western Rock Gods of their power.)

Hey Stubbs: how's about I plant my foot in your occidental ass, motherfucker?

Anyway, the liner notes contain Stubbs' essay and a bunch of pictures of the band. The pictures are mildly interesting. The essay isn't. End of story.

Listen if you like: Radiohead's Kid A and/or Amnesiac, early Pink Floyd, Boris, experimental music that's not too experimental.

If it were food, it'd be: canned vegetables

Can: Tago Mago

2009-02-27T05:56:00.000-05:00

Can is one of those bands that always lurked on the periphery of my musical awareness, but never received my undivided focus. I knew they were early innovators of experimental rock music. I knew that bassist Holger Czukay recorded some beautiful instrumental albums with David Sylvian. I knew I should listen to them, but I just never got around to it.

Now that I've checked out Tago Mago from EPFL, I know what I've been missing. This is a difficult album, but it is completely unique and undeniably awesome.

Music:
On first listen, I guessed that Tago Mago came out somewhere in the mid 1970s, when punk innovators like Wire and Television were proving that you didn't need mad technical chops to create vital and relevant musical experimentation.

I was way off. Can's first album came out in '69, and Tago Mago was released in 1971.

I can't even begin to describe what this sounds like. It's rock music, but it embodies the spirit of punk and the spontaneity of jazz. It's adventurous and experimental, even for a time when the musical world was filled with the adventurous experiments of artists like Pink Floyd and Frank Zappa and the Velvet Underground. It's chaotic, but it holds together without ever exploding.

This is punk before punk existed. This is jazz without the stodgy elitism. This is rock without the constraints that normally define rock. This is, quite simply, everything that makes the greatest punk and jazz and rock so damned exciting.

Packaging:
I haven't read much of British rock critic David Stubbs' writing, but if his essay here is typical of his style, he should be banished to the dark recesses of romance novels and open-mic poetry. His words epitomize the pseudo-intellectualism that makes people despise music journalists. For example:

"There's a moment here when, so in synch are the band that the song actually levitates."

No, jackass, the song did not actually levitate. Your inability to use proper punctuation or sentence structure, however, did make my blood pressure rise.

Anyway. Stubbs' commentary on the album is rotten, but the essay by Primal Scream vocalist Bobby Gillespie clearly demonstrates a love for Can's music, and his story about jamming with 2/5 of Can is genuinely exciting. Best of all, he doesn't resort to any Stubbs-isms like "beetling basslines" or "impassioned vocals creating a mist of condensation."

(Here's some obscure music trivia I figured out from reading the liner notes: The name of the band The Mooney Suzuki comes from the surnames of original Can vocalist Malcolm Mooney and his replacement, Damo Suzuki.)

Listen if you like: Kraftwerk, Sonic Youth, Miles Davis' fusion experiments from the late '60s and early '70s, Zappa, Pink Floyd's early records, Wire, Television.

If it were food, it'd be: One of my co-workers turned me on to the fact that Huy Fong's Sriracha hot sauce is delicious with pretty much everything, including pizza, popcorn, veggie dogs, mac & cheese, and even peanut butter sandwiches. Tago Mago is like the unholy combination of Sriracha and peanut butter: it shouldn't make any sense, but it's utterly fantastic.

My Teenage Stride: Ears Like Golden Bats

2009-02-24T06:01:00.000-05:00

It's been awhile since I've praised Baltimore's Enoch Pratt Free Library for their music collection. I haven't been to any other libraries where I can walk in and find dozens of CDs by bands I've never heard (or even heard of), and nearly all of them will at least be decent.

It's not often that I write a really bad review of a CD I get from the EPFL. In fact, very few of the CDs I review end up at the bottom of my rating scale (earning a 1, 1.5, or 2). I wish the music on MySpace or iTunes had that kind of track record!

Music:
My Teenage Stride is Smiths-influenced indie pop, spiced with a splash of '80s one-hit wonders and simmered in a broth of The Beatles. All the songs are short, and like the early Cure records, My Teenage Stride focuses on hooks and melodies without getting bogged down in unnecessary details. Nothing here is in the least bit original, but it's all written, recorded, and performed extremely well.

Packaging:
The multi-colored text on the cover gives a pretty good clue of what the music sounds like, but otherwise, the package is bland. There's nothing except for credits, some nature photos, and a quote that is presumably from one of the songs.

Listen if you like: upbeat indie pop or downcast 80's Manchester new wave. There's enough mope to catch the heart of twee fans, enough joy to please the bespectacled indie rock boys of Brooklyn, and maybe even enough Beatles for fans of Matthew Sweet and the Posies.

If it were food, it'd be: A Hershey's Special Dark bar.

Charles Mingus: Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus

2009-02-20T05:30:00.001-05:00

Everybody from Elton John to Tom Jones has released a remix album, making them as ubiquitous (and unnecessary) as blogs and tattoos.

But what happened back in the days when the innovators of remixing were still crawling around with diapers full of poop?

Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus is one answer to that question. Mingus had proven his musical genius by 1963, so he decided to go back with a new band and revisit some of his earlier ideas.

Music:
I'll be the first to admit I'm biased when it comes to Mingus. There has never been another jazz musician who rocked as hard as Mingus did. The man's music is as energetic and exciting as anything Zeppelin or Sabbath or (enter your favorite rock band here) ever did.

You might ask, "Chuck, why would you say that Mingus -- a man who didn't much care for rock music -- rocked?"

Making music that rocks has nothing to do with making rock music. The latter is a genre, and most of the music within that genre is actually pretty lame. The former is a state of mind that transcends all genres, and occurs when the musicians have completely let go and let their wildness take over.

This music is wild. These ideas were already explored on some of Mingus' greatest albums, but Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus is still unique and original. The band is on fire, the arrangements are amazing, and the music is as adventurous as nearly anything the man recorded.

Packaging:
When I was a kid and was home sick from school one day, my mom brought home a novel called This School Is Driving Me Crazy by Nat Hentoff. I liked the book and read it several times, but it wasn't until I began earnestly exploring jazz that I learned Hentoff was like the Lester Bangs of jazz. The liner notes here are pretty much what I'd expect from Hentoff writing about Mingus: a little overblown and a little melodramatic, but also passionate and enthusiastic and informed and deeply respectful of both Mingus the man and Mingus the musician.

Hentoff wrote, "(Mingus) is one of the most alive men I have ever known, and it is this commitment to living rather than only existing which makes his music so energizing and so insistently provocative." No words could nail the music on this record better than these.

A few more pictures would've been nice; otherwise, this is a strong package.

Listen if you like: powerful music, passionate music, wild music, alive music, music that rocks.

If it were food, it'd be: The first thought that came to mind was "a can of Red Bull," but that analogy captures such a small part of the album's greatness that it's actually a disservice. Really, this album is like a giant meal that encompasses every imaginable flavor, and leaves you excited for more. I've never actually eaten a meal that tastes like this music. Readers? Any ideas?

Daniel Lanois: Acadie

2009-02-17T06:05:00.000-05:00

It must be bizarre to have countless platinum records -- critically acclaimed platinum records, nonetheless -- under your belt, yet be unknown to all but the most die-hard rock fans.

As a producer, Daniel Lanois is at least partially responsible for seminal albums by U2, Peter Gabriel, Bob Dylan, The Neville Brothers, and Dashboard Confessional. (Not often that you see Dashboard Confessional and Dylan on a list together.) But how about on his own? Can he make the same kind of magic when he's in control of every aspect of the music?

Music:
The answer is, "not really." There are a few songs on Acadie that flirt with greatness, there are a few that are almost embarrassingly bad, and there are a bunch that sound like they came from a guy who spent a whole lot of time listening to The Joshua Tree.

Now, in Lanois' defense, he did spend a whole lot of time listening to The Joshua Tree. As the album's co-producer, that was his job. It's hard to say whether his influence had a dramatic impact on U2, or vice versa, but a lot of the songs on Acadie sound like Joshua Tree throwaways.

As for the good songs, I've had the bassline from "The Maker" stuck in my head since 1991 (the year I last heard Acadie), and for nearly 20 years I've been trying to figure out from what song it comes. If that doesn't qualify as a hook, I don't know what does. "White Mustang II" is a simple instrumental track that is solemn yet spooky. "Amazing Grace" is easily the strongest song on the record, and Aaron Neville's vocals make it one of the most interesting and impassioned versions of the gospel standard that I've ever heard.

Packaging:
This is one of the worst packages I've ever seen. The cover sports a cheesy '80s photo of Lanois standing in the snow with hair that looks like a cockatoo with a bad dye job. And the rest of the package is... well, it's nothing. No credits. No lyrics. No photos. No stories. Nothing. Just a note that you can read the credits at Lanois' web site, which is a lie as far as I can tell, because I couldn't find a single thing about who played on this record. If I'd spent $10 or $15 on this CD, I'd be pissed. There is no compelling reason to buy this. If you're interested in the music, just download the songs. (And that's coming from a guy who hates downloading songs.)

Listen if you like: U2 from the mid '80s, Peter Gabriel from the late '80s, Lanois' production style. There's a strong New Orleans sound on several of the songs, so if you like The Neville Brothers, you might enjoy this.

If it were food, it'd be: Gumbo and Guinness

Bettye LaVette: I've Got My Own Hell to Raise

2009-02-13T06:11:00.000-05:00

(I've been away from the blog for awhile, but I'm hopefully back to the regular Tuesday/Friday updates.)

Bettye LaVette is proof that, in some people's careers, everything can go wrong. Bettye LaVette is also proof that sometimes, after everything's gone wrong for a decade or four, the fates finally smile down upon you.

I'm glad the fates smiled on Bettye LaVette. I'm glad because she worked for a long time and deserved a break, but I'm also glad because her voice is incredible and if she hadn't gotten a break, I never would've heard her sing.

Music:
I've Got My Own Hell to Raise opens with a powerful cover of Sinead O'Connor's a capella "I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got." It's a great song and a great start to a very good album.

The second song is when that truth of the album really begins, though. It starts with a guitar that is a little rough and a little sexy and a little raunchy. Then a second guitar kicks in, and it's the kind of guitar that sounds as if it spent a few years wandering the streets before it decided to walk into the studio and be recorded. The drums creep up, and they are as thick and rich as the soil that holds the roots of a mighty tree. Then the bass starts, and it sounds as deep as the desire to discover joy when you're stuck in the roughest parts of a rough place.

Then LaVette starts singing.

The second song on the album, "Joy," is amazing. It is everything that simple music -- rock or soul or country or blues or hip-hop or punk -- can and should be. It is emotional, it is powerful, it is awesome, and it sets the tone for an album that practically overflows with soul.

(If you're wondering why I only gave the album four library-cards after those glowing comments, it's because there's very little range in the song tempos and dynamics. It's a relatively minor complaint, but it makes the album feel somewhat monotonous.)

Packaging:
The package has almost everything a CD jacket should have. There are a handful of photos that fit the mood of the record. There's a little bit of information about each of the songs (all of which are covers). There aren't lyrics, but it's easy to understand every word that LaVette sings. Best of all, though, is the essay by Rob Bowman, in which he tells LaVette's story. It's a good essay, and it makes me grateful that more and more artists are choosing to add more and more words to their liner notes.

Listen if you like: Stories. LaVette's got a fascinating story, and it comes across both in how she sings and the music she performs. Every song on the record is a cover of a song originally performed by a woman; if you like the stories that Fiona Apple, Dolly Parton, Aimee Mann, or Lucinda Williams tell, wait 'til you hear Bettye LaVette tell them.

If it were food, it'd be: a classic and complex wine that's been hiding out in dark rooms for 40 years, just waiting for its delicious flavor to be discovered.

PJ Harvey: White Chalk

2009-01-20T11:44:00.002-05:00

PJ Harvey has reached that difficult-to-achieve level in her career where she could pretty much record herself taking a dump, and critics and fans would praise her courageous experimentalism.

My first reaction to White Chalk was, "Wow, she pretty much recorded herself taking a dump." But given that I've liked most of what she's released over the years (even the stuff that took a while to sink in), I figured I owed her the benefit of the doubt. So I listened again, and then I listened a few more times.

Music:
The only way I can describe Harvey's sound on this record is to call it modern folk, but that conjures images that aren't at all appropriate. Piano is the dominant instrument, but it's a very basic and stripped down piano, the kind you might expect to hear coming from the living room of a ramshackle house somewhere in Kentucky.

Kentucky. That's actually why I had such a hard time with White Chalk. These songs made me think of Mountain Music of Kentucky, a record whose performances are as naked as music can possibly be. Its happiest moments are snapshots of pure joy, and its haunted moments are so powerful that you can hear the ghosts in speakers.

White Chalk doesn't capture any ghosts or snapshots of joy. Not to say Harvey sounds bad, because she doesn't. She sounds like a rock artist who tried something challenging and difficult, and almost pulled it off. I think she wanted to record a completely naked album, though, and these songs are definitely wearing clothes. Maybe nothing more than an old t-shirt and some stained underwear, but that's a far cry from being naked.

Packaging: n/a (Altered by EPFL)
I understand that the good folks at the Enoch Pratt Free Library need to identify their CDs, but it's really annoying when they put big stickers right over the front cover. The picture seems to be Harvey in a typically unflattering portrait, but this one is interesting because she has the uncomfortable stiffness that a rural woman who is posing for her first photo might possess. Otherwise, the EPFL chopped and mangled and destroyed the rest of the package, so I'm not sure what else might've been there.

Listen if you like: As with much of Harvey's later work, fans of Nick Cave will find something here. This record shares some common ground with Isobel Campbell & Mark Lanegan. Anybody who likes traditional American folk might like this.

If it were food, it'd be: beans and cooked greens. Unfortunately, the ingredients all came from cans and bags at the supermarket, rather than from Mason jars filled with last summer's crop.

Black Lips: Good Bad Not Evil

2009-01-16T08:21:00.001-05:00

When I lived in LA back in '91, there was a band called Life Sex Death (Get it? LSD. Clever, clever, clever!) who were supposed to save the quickly dying hair metal scene. The crazy quirk with LSD was the fact that their singer didn't have long, pretty hair! The dude was some filthy guy who was rumored to be homeless. It didn't matter that the band sucked: Seattle was turning heads with all their homeless-looking bands, so LSD was LA's ticket to the future.

I'm certain that Black Lips sound nothing like LSD, but the first couple songs on Good Bad Not Evil sound like my memory of LSD's extremely stupid (but memorable) song, "Jawohl Asshole." Kinda energetic, kinda dirty, kinda funny, kinda catchy, yet ultimately not worth thinking about more than once every couple of decades.

Music:
If Good Bad Not Evil had come out in 1965, it probably would've been mind-blowing. Then again, The Who and The Beatles and The Stones were already blowing people's minds, and Black Lips can't compare to those groups. This is psychedelic garage rock filtered through everything that's happened since the Velvet Underground. To its credit, it's much more raw than most of the garage revivalists of the '00s.

I can't imagine not liking this record if you're into garage or psych. For those of us who aren't, though, there's nothing here worth hearing.

Packaging:
With all the cut-out eyeballs and ironic moustaches and clever nicknames, it's obvious that Black Lips have a sense of humor. The little comments before the lyrics of each song are kind of charming, but I don't understand the point of including only part of each songs' words. The package is entertaining the first time you look at it, but there's not much need to look at it more than once.

Listen if you like: Mudhoney, Thee Headcoats, The Rolling Stones. Ween fans might dig the humor, even though the two bands sound nothing alike.

If it were food, it'd be: a cheap pizza from a take-out joint in a small college town that's filled with pretentious liberal arts students who think they're the most witty and insightful people to ever walk the face of the Earth.

Richard Hawley: Lady's Bridge

2009-01-13T06:14:00.000-05:00

Nick Hornby is one of my favorite writers. I like the way he writes about music by telling stories, and I like the way he tells stories by writing about music. I'll sit down to read his thoughts on a record, and I'll end up reading about how a song changed his life.

In my fantasy world, Nick Hornby is my wise musical friend -- you know, that guy who spends all his free time listening to music, knows every weird band, and always has the perfect musical recommendation for you. In this alternate world, Nick Hornby gives me a call whenever he's passing through Baltimore and turns me on to a bunch of great new music.

Of course that never happens, but if it did, I'm pretty sure Nick would've turned me on to this album.

That's what kind of album this is. This is the kind of album that your wise musical friend says you must hear. So you listen, and as so often happens, your wise musical friend is absolutely right.

Music:
Lady's Bridge is an album to listen to at night, when you're sad and alone. This is also an album that's dangerous to listen to at night, when you're sad and alone, because it knows how you feel and will help you to keep feeling that way. But it will remind you that you're not really alone. At the very least, Richard Hawley is there with you. The two of you can stand on the bridge between the past and the future, and throw stones into the water, and be at peace... for a while... before you move on.

Packaging:
For whatever reason, the cover photo makes me think of Ben Stein, so that's an immediate half-library-card ding. Otherwise, this package is as good as the music. Every photo is gorgeous in its own, understated right, but more importantly, every photo tells a story about loneliness and loss and sadness. I could've lived without the color filters on the pictures, but they don't bother me as much as most cheesy Photoshop tricks. The lyrics are included, and the two quotes about the real Lady's Bridge (a bridge in England) tie the entire package together.

Listen if you like: Roy Orbison, Chris Isaak, Elvis before he became a caricature of himself, Morrissey's Vauxhall & I and Your Arsenal. "The Sun Refused to Shine" could've been on The Cure's Disintegration, and "Tonight the Streets Are Ours" captures the essence of Springsteen without sounding anything like him.

If it were food, it'd be: "I have crossed Lady's Bridge back and forth many times over the years, mainly to get to Kenny's Records on one side (now long gone sadly) or to the Castle Market on the other, both places provided me with food of different sorts." (from Hawley's quote in the liner notes.) If Lady's Bridge were food, it'd be the kind you get on a day when you visit both the grocery store and the record store.

Reckless Kelly: Reckless Kelly's Bulletproof

2009-01-09T06:12:00.000-05:00

Ingredient list to create an album that straddles roots-rock, country-rock, and alt-country:

1. Roads. Lonely and wandering highways are best, but freeways and dark city streets will do in a pinch. Interstates are out, as are tree-lined cul-de-sacs. Dust is always good.

2. Alcohol. Beer and bourbon are ideal, French wine is to be avoided at all costs.

3. Guys named Johnny or Billy. Tommy will do if Johnny and Billy are busy working on other albums.

4. A wild woman with a cheatin' heart. It's best if she's involved with your best friend, a drunk at the bar, or your best friend who's drunk at the bar.

5. A good woman with a golden heart. She must possess angelic qualities, and she's never found real love.

6. Untamed men and/or bad boys who do any combination of the following: run away, steal away, break away, drift away, and occasionally devote themselves wholly to the woman in #5. Being as free as a bird is a definite asset, provided this bird can change. At least for a while.

7. A train. Train tracks will suffice, as long as you're on the wrong side of them.

8. A war. In lieu of a war, a fight will do.

9. A bar. Without this, #2 and #4 are much more difficult to achieve, and Nos. 5 and 6 are virtually impossible since all true love begins in bars.

10. Night. Apparently, when the sun is shining, nobody ever gets their heart broken, travels on a lonely road, meets an angelic woman, or gets drunk.

Music:
If I didn't know these rules, Bulletproof would be pretty good. The band is solid, the songs are decent, and there's a sense of joy that pervades even the darker moments.

Unfortunately, these rules have been around for decades, and I've heard Bulletproof countless times before. I heard it when The Georgia Satellites recorded it, and when the Gear Daddies recorded it, and when Lone Justice recorded it, and when John Mellencamp (née Cougar) recorded it, and when Steve Earle recorded it, and when Uncle Tupelo recorded it, and... yikes, that was just before 1991.

Bulletproof is fine if you've heard all the great albums in this genre, and all the really good ones, and you still can't get enough. Otherwise, skip it.

Packaging:
This cover makes me feel cheated. It has a dude in what appears to be an iron mask, holding two revolvers, surrounded by the caption "DEATH DEFYING SONGS FOR LOOTERS AND THIEVES. FEARLESS & ACTION PACKED." Talk about misleading. Nowhere does the cover say "GENERIC SONGS WITH GENERIC LYRICS PERFORMED IN AN ADEQUATE MANNER." It's a good package though, with lyrics and photos and credits and lots of drawings of the dude in the iron mask... which actually just makes me wish the music lived up to the promises on the cover.

Listen if you like: Any of the artists above. Fans of country guys like Tim McGraw or Dwight Yoakum might like Reckless Kelly's songs, and fans of the Dixie Chicks might like Reckless Kelly's politics. (If you want songs that tell down-on-your-luck stories in a much more original manner, check out their label-mates Marah.)

If it were food, it'd be: Cold beer late at night served by a veteran named Johnny in a bar on a lonely road where you meet an angelic woman from the wrong side of the tracks who just might tame your wild streak and mend the heart that your cheatin' woman broke.

The Beatles: Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

2009-01-06T06:18:00.000-05:00

Okay. We all know the deal with Sgt. Pepper's: five-star record, revolutionary recording process, best rock album ever, yada yada yada.

I'm listening to Sgt. Pepper's from start to finish for the first time, which hopefully gives me a somewhat unique perspective on the record. My goal is not to slaughter a sacred cow, nor is it to blindly celebrate an album just because I've been told it's great. I'm merely reviewing Sgt. Pepper's as a guy who loves rock music but is very late in getting around to a really important album.

Music:
Sgt. Pepper's only major flaw is that most of the songs don't rock. The experiments on this record forever changed the face of rock music, but hardly anything here possesses the excitement or energy of the earlier Beatles recordings. This album planted the seeds of great musical creativity, but it also planted seeds that grew into flaccid musical genres like Adult Alternative. For that alone, it's flawed.

With that said, I loved listening to Sgt. Pepper's. I heard new things in songs I've known for years, and I fell in love with songs that are new to me. "A Day in the Life" is amazing, and "Within You Without You" blew me away. "Fixing a Hole" and "She's Leaving Home" are very touching and emotional, and it's hard to believe they came from the mind of a 24-year-old rock star. I'd always dismissed "When I'm Sixty Four" as being just another silly love song, but it's actually a wonderfully poignant sentiment about two people sharing a life together.

On the down side, "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" is stupid, "Lovely Rita" is trite, and "With a Little Help from My Friends" is annoying. The occasional cultural references date the music far more than the production does, and the drug references sprinkled throughout the record reek of cheap rebellion.

Packaging:
The cover of Sgt. Pepper's is almost as influential as the music. It's nice that this CD release includes additional information about how both the record and the jacket were created. For instance, I never knew that this was the first record to include printed lyrics, that Mae West initially refused to be included in a "lonely hearts club," or that John Lennon requested an extremely high-pitched noise be put at the end of "A Day in the Life" to annoy people's dogs. (This last bit of info makes me suspect that Mr. Lennon was a bit of a douchebag.) This was a superb package the first time around, and despite the reduced size of the CD jacket, the additional information makes this a great package on CD also.

Listen if you like: Any music from the past 40 years. It reflects poorly on me that I'm just now listening to this record for the first time.

If it were food, it'd be: water.

The Pratt Songs Best of 2008

2009-01-02T23:04:00.002-05:00

It's time for another list. In 2008, I posted a total of 84 reviews of CDs and/or LPs that are available from Baltimore's library, the Enoch Pratt Free Library. In no particular order, here are 10 of those 84 albums that have stuck with me.

Various Artists: Mountain Music of Kentucky -- I've listened to some difficult music this year, and I think it's fair to say that no CD presented me with more challenges and rewards than this one. This is about as naked as music can possibly be. And by naked, I don't mean supermodel naked, I mean naked the way most of us look without any clothes: completely flawed, yet absolutely beautiful.

Kings of Leon: Aha Shake Heartbreak -- Of every rock album I heard for the first time this year, nothing won my heart the way Aha Shake Heartbreak did. This album possesses nearly everything that makes rock music wonderful.

Lord Invader: Calypso in New York -- This record completely changed my mind about calypso, and began a year-long journey into an incredibly compelling style of music. Anybody who truly loves hip-hop should give this a listen, because the parallels between hip-hop and calypso are fascinating.

Harry Belafonte: Belafonte Returns to Carnegie Hall -- I love it when I'm forced to change my opinion on an artist, and this record forced me to change my opinion about Harry Belafonte. I'd previously dismissed the man as a musical and social lightweight, a provider of fluff for the masses. In truth, the man was incredibly courageous, both musically and socially. No, his calypso doesn't move me the way Lord Invader's does, but Belafonte is truly a heavyweight.

Various Artists: Nicky Siano's Legendary "The Gallery" The Original New York Disco 1973-1977 -- About 10 years ago, I learned about the differences between original underground disco and the corporate swill that was spoon fed to the masses throughout the '70s. It wasn't until I stumbled onto this gem at the EPFL, however, that I discovered Nicky Siano. This is a fantastic CD that captures the original spirit of disco.

Moby: Play -- This CD proves that musical genres are meaningless, and maybe we should spend more time categorizing our music as either "good" or "not so good."

Fela Kuti: The Underground Spiritual Game -- An intriguingly simple summary of Fela's incredibly complex music.

Lead Belly: Keep Your Hands Off Her (a.k.a. Leadbelly Sings Folk Songs) -- It shouldn't have taken me nearly 40 years to find Lead Belly, but I'm thankful I finally got around to listening to him. No single artist commanded more of my attention this year than Lead Belly. This collection is a concise and interesting introduction to a great musician.

Mclusky: The Difference Between You and Me Is that I'm Not on Fire -- I played this CD expecting bad emo. Instead, I got one of the most energetic and exciting albums I heard all year.

Horace Andy: Dance Hall Style -- Dance Hall Style was not only my favorite of the half-dozen reggae albums I reviewed this year, but it's become one of my very favorite reggae albums, period.

There were three albums I reviewed in 2008 that have been on my personal "favorite albums" list for years: U2 Pop, The Postal Service Give Up, and Death Cab for Cutie Plans. Since these albums weren't new to me in 2008, they weren't really candidates for this list. All three, however, are very strong albums that deserve a listen. Particularly the U2 record: it was largely dismissed by critics and fans alike, but the last three tracks on Pop are as good as anything the band ever wrote.

Finally, an honorable mention goes to Goldfrapp Seventh Tree. It's a very dull album, but "A&E" is one of the best songs I heard in 2008.

Thanks for reading. If real life doesn't consume too much of my time and energy, I look forward to hearing and reviewing another 80 or 90 CDs from the EPFL this year!

Jewel: Goodbye Alice in Wonderland

2008-12-05T06:05:00.000-05:00

Not long ago, I reviewed Everything I Touch Runs Wild by Lori Carson. As I listened to Carson, I wondered why she and her peers are celebrated by rock snobs while artists like Jewel are mercilessly mocked.

Well, the day I took that Lori Carson CD back to the EPFL, what did I see on the shelf? That's right, Jewel's Goodbye Alice in Wonderland. Serendipity, right? No matter the pain, I vowed to work my way through this Jewel album and see if I could figure out why people like me love Carson but hate Jewel.

(To be entirely honest, I've always had a soft spot for Jewel. Everytime I hear one of her songs, it inspires an indescribable sense of nostalgia for a past I've never known. Since I haven't ever heard one of her records from start to finish, this gives me an excuse to check out some Jewel without totally losing my right to call myself a man. Just do me a favor and don't tell anyone, okay?)

Music:
Musically, this is a pretty cold album. It sounds as if producer Rob Cavallo mapped every chord change and orchestral swell out in an Excel spreadsheet, ran a formula to calculate the maximum amount of emotion, then hired a bunch of studio mercenaries to play the solution. It's disappointing, because Cavallo has made some pretty incredible records in his time.

Jewel's words and delivery save Goodbye Alice in Wonderland, though. She makes it believable, and that's a mighty good thing since she calls this her musical autobiography. The words are sincere and sentimental, sometimes raw and confessional, and are clever enough that they even made me laugh out loud once or twice.

You know what'd be nice? If she performed all of these songs by herself, just her voice and her acoustic guitar, without a session musician or an Excel spreadsheet anywhere in sight. If she did that, she might give Lori Carson a run for all that critical acclaim.

Packaging:
It's a good package filled with photos and drawings, but the layout of the lyrics is awful. I would expect an artist who released a book of poetry to know better than to cram each song's lyrics into a big block of difficult-to-read text. Most of the photos of Jewel are very flattering, but there's one where she looks like a drunk who got into Tammy Faye's makeup bag. Not a good look for you, honey.

Listen if you like: Sarah McLachlan, James Blunt, Goo Goo Dolls, Alanis Morissette but you've grown up a bit since you bought Jagged Little Pill. The production is probably way too slick to appeal to fans of singers like Lori Carson.

If it were food, it'd be: jalapeno poppers from a chain restaurant. The core ingredients are spicy, but they're cooked up in a way that won't offend consumers with very bland tastes.

Lori Carson: Everything I Touch Runs Wild

2008-12-02T21:27:00.001-05:00

I'm not always certain what the difference is between the Sarah McLachlan / Jewel and the Heidi Berry / Keren Ann artists of the world. Why do critics disparage the former and heap praise upon the latter? Is there really that much difference between the two styles? Is one bereft of integrity while the other overflows with artistic credibility? Or is it simply a matter of popularity? Would music snobs celebrate the entire catalog of Jewel if she'd never sold more than 50,000 copies? Would they berate Keren Ann if she earned a Grammy?

Lori Carson is the kind of artist who makes me ask these questions. On the surface, she falls squarely in the camp of the critically acclaimed and commercially under appreciated singer/songwriter. But her music is so simple and so open that there's no reason it couldn't appeal to millions of lovelorn women who are resigned to curling up in bed with a cat and a Jane Austen novel. A couple of plays on Grey's Anatomy or The OC, and something tells me that Carson would've earned as much love and mockery as Sarah McLachlan and Jewel do.

Music:
The album is easy to dismiss at first, but each listen proves more rewarding than the last. At various moments, Carson's songs make me think of Heidi Berry, Keren Ann, Tanya Donelly, Nick Drake, Kristin Hersh, and even Shawn Smith. The music is simple, and at times it is so simple as to teeter on the edge of cliché. The lyrics have none of the complex poetry of Donelly or Drake, but their simplicity cannot disguise a very warm and real humanity. The only stinker is her cover of "I Saw the Light," a song that plays to the worst elements of Carson's sound. Otherwise, this is a perfect album for dark highways and lonely bedrooms.

Packaging:
The design has some subtle touches, but overall there's nothing particularly special about it. It's a shame the cover looks like an outtake from a Bjork photo shoot, because it completely misrepresents the music inside. The photos are very good, but they say nothing about the mood of the album. The lyrics are included, but the musician credits are either in a miserably tiny font or I need glasses.

Listen if you like: Heidi Berry fans should definitely check this out. Her voice is occasionally similar to Tanya Donelly, but her music sounds more like Kristin Hersh. If you like Counting Crows songs like "Raining in Baltimore," you'll probably find something here that you like. And yes, Sarah McLachlan and Jewel fans might like Carson's music.

If it were food, it'd be: a cup of cocoa on a cold and lonely day.

(I think it's worth noting that, while I've bought copies of several of the CDs that I've reviewed here, this is the first time I ordered multiple albums by an artist while I was writing a review.)

Madvillain: Madvillainy

2008-11-25T08:29:00.000-05:00

Each genre of music has a period of greatness, a time when every unique aspect of the style's past, present, and future melds together in an almost magical way. In jazz, it happened between the late '50s and the late '60s, when Mingus and Monk and Miles and Coleman and Coltrane broke the rules faster than they could make them up. In rock, it was from '66 to about '73, when bands as diverse as The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, and Pink Floyd created previously unimagined sounds that would be emulated and regurgitated for the next four decades. Folk had the period between Joseph McCarthy and Lyndon Johnson, punk had the years between the formation and the dissolution of The Clash, and reggae had the creative explosion in the '70s that resulted in everything from dub to dancehall (and some dude named Bob Marley).

That's not to say that no great artists existed outside these periods of greatness. Duke Ellington and Charlie Parker certainly pre-dated the peak of jazz by several decades, and Jane's Addiction and Metallica arrived long after rock's brightest lights had either burned out or faded away.

Hip-hop reached its creative peak somewhere in the late '80s and early '90s. The music was sophisticated enough that the novelty had worn off, but young enough to freely embrace new ideas. It was a time when aggression, violence, dissent, revolution, love, lust, drugs, intelligence, stupidity, pride, hope, and humor all shared the stage in an uneasy but creative peace. Sampling was still fair game, and young producers and DJs were experimenting with making their own sounds in the studio rather than relying on what other people had made.

I don't love hip-hop enough to search for the rap equivalents to Jane's Addiction or Metallica, the artists who came long after the genre's peak and completely changed the music for the better. Sure, I'll occasionally hear some guys who blow me away, but mostly I hear the hip-hop equivalents to Boston and Smashing Pumpkins and White Stripes: artists who might have an original voice in isolation, but are lacking when compared to the greats within their genre.

Music:
In isolation, Madvillainy is a fairly unique and striking album. Madlib's production is interesting, and Doom's words (or MF DOOM's words, to be technically correct) flow well. In a year (2004) when mediocre records by Beastie Boys and Kanye West were receiving Grammy nominations and rotten records by TI, Nelly and Jay-Z were selling like hotcakes, it's no surprise that Madvillain was almost universally regarded as a breath of fresh air.

The problem is, Madvillainy is only fresh when compared to the worst the genre has to offer. If you hold it up to TI and Nelly, the record is absolutely brilliant. But it's pretty damned lame when you compare it to the creativity that burst forth from people like Gangstarr, De La Soul, NWA, Public Enemy, and countless others a few decades ago. Yeah, there's an accordion sample in "Accordion," but who cares? (A whole bunch of critics, apparently.) I hate to break it to y'all, but accordion has been around for a long time, even in hip-hop!

There are some good moments here, but they're cloaked in so much of the same old dope-smokin', chest-thumpin', money-grubbin', bitch-hatin' crap that you have to search for the true gems. And really, guys, can't you get past how awesome pot is? I mean, didn't everybody figure that out with Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg like, 15 years ago?

Packaging:
The cover on the EPFL's version is different than (and not as strong as) the cover I see at Allmusic, but it's still decent. The overall design is simple, but it has a lot of personality. The lyrics are included, and they're easy to read without being dull to look at. The credits are straightforward, and don't get bogged down with a bunch of unnecessary nonsense. It's tough to balance simplicity with individuality, but designer Jeff Jank did an excellent job.

Listen if you like: the many incarnations of Madlib and/or MF DOOM. If you're one of those people who thinks N.E.R.D. was the most innovative production team this side of George Martin, you'll probably like the tasty grape flavor of the Madvillain Kool-Aid.

If it were food, it'd be: read the previous sentence, please.

RTX: Western Xterminator

2008-11-21T09:19:00.002-05:00

Some album covers are so awesome that you just have to listen to the music. I'd never heard of RTX, but Western Xterminator has a cover that is one part high school notebook cover, one part '70s hard rock, and one part drug-induced insanity. I figured I had a 50/50 chance of getting either some crazy hard rock or some crazy underground hip-hop.

Music:
This is the second-worst album I've checked out in the 18 months I've been reviewing CDs from the EPFL. (This is the worst.)

The opening of the album is deceptive. "Western Xterminator" is a flute-driven song that is low-key and trippy and incredibly promising. Yeah, the album would've gotten boring if everything else had followed in that style, but it would've been better than what's here. Imagine a cross between the most clichéd Heart song and the most clichéd AC/DC song, and you have Western Xterminator. The title track and "Wo-Wo Din" are the only tracks that have an even remotely original sound. The rest of it makes the first few Foreigner albums look like creative masterpieces.

The production sounds like a cheap demo recorded in the studio that some dude's brother's pot dealer built in his garage. It would be forgivable if the production hid something great, but this sounds like the engineer tried to polish a turd with a poopcloth.

And yes, I get the fact that this is, like, totally ironic, man. The thing is, I just don't care. Irony or not, it's rotten.

Packaging:
The album cover totally sucked me in. Really, go take a look at it. Maybe it's just nostalgia for my old notebook covers and hand-drawn band fliers, but there's a whole lot of good imagery on this cover. It's unique and interesting, yet it looks completely DIY. The band photo on the inside is unoriginal but not terrible. The font in the booklet is nearly illegible. That might be OK if it was crazy, hand-drawn text, but this is just a stupid font that someone thought looked cool. Guess what? You were wrong.

Listen if you like: Bad songwriting, bad performances, and bad production.

If it were food, it'd be: Does anyone remember the 29-cent Hamburger Stand, an '80s cheap-ass burger joint that fell somewhere between McDonald's and cardboard? Yeah, that's pretty much Western Xterminator.

(I wrote this review before I read anything online about RTX. In trying to read the stupid, illegible font on the tray card and the jacket, I figured out that RTX is somehow related to the wildly overrated Chicago band Royal Trux. This album reminds me of why I thought all the junkie hipster bands that rose to fame in the '90s were complete asshats. Obviously, being a musical asshat has survived well into the first decade of the '00s.)

Goldfrapp: Seventh Tree

2008-11-18T07:07:00.002-05:00

I have a confession. A nice woman at Mute records sent me Seventh Tree earlier this year, in hopes that I'd review it at one of the other sites where I write. I never reviewed the CD, though. In fact, I never even listened to it. It sat on my desk for months, and I never even took the shrink wrap off of it. That's how much I didn't want to listen to this album.

I don't know why I hate Goldfrapp. Alison Goldfrapp has a perfectly reasonable voice, and Will Gregory, her musical partner in crime, seems to be a talented fellow, even if his hipster hair and hipster beard and hipster glasses make me want to smite him with irony. (Is that wrong of me? If you take the honest-to-goodness sociopaths out of the mix, is there any group of humanity more annoying than hipster musicians? And is there any better way to abuse them than to use their favorite literary device against them?)

Anyway, I digress. I don't like Goldfrapp. The very thought of listening to Goldfrapp makes me feel icky. I dislike Goldfrapp to the degree that if someone tells me he or she likes them, I immediately think a little bit less of that person, the same way I would think less of a person who told me they hate black people or they kick puppies. Because bigotry and cruelty really have so much in common with bad musical taste, you know?

So, when I looked at the New Releases shelf at the EPFL and I saw Alison Goldfrapp in her stupid pirate hat on the cover of Seventh Tree, I knew it was finally time to listen. Here goes. Wish me luck.

Music:
The only way I can honestly review this album is to break it into two sections: all of the songs except "A&E," and "A&E."

The music on Seventh Tree isn't as awful as I expected. In fact, it isn't awful at all. It is dull, though. Listening to Seventh Tree is about as exciting as finding that long lost Carpenters album, Karen and Richard Sit Around and Sing about How Much They Love Ironic Electro-Hipsters. The music is pretty and well-produced, but it's just not that interesting. The words are clever and biting, but they just aren't that good. It's easy to listen to the songs on Seventh Tree, but not a single musical moment from the album sticks with me after the disc ends.

Not a single musical moment except for "A&E," which is absolutely fantastic. The music curves and climbs in a wonderful way, and it supports lyrics about a woman waking up in the emergency room after a lovelorn suicide attempt. (A&E, or Accident & Emergency, is apparently what the Brits call their emergency rooms.) The song is a beautiful juxtaposition of joy and pain. The lyrics are simple but they're remarkably effective: for example, the narrator's "backless dress" -- whether taken on its own or interpreted as a metaphor for a hospital gown -- manages to convey a great deal of imagery with a paltry three syllables.

Packaging:
Owls, pirates, boobies, owls with boobies... the whole thing screams "pretentious." Or maybe "stupid." Or maybe even "crazy." Whatever it is, the photos are well done and the owl costume is pretty impressive, even if it is pretentious/stupid/crazy. It's a shame that the lyrics are printed in muted gold ink on cream paper, but they're not all that good anyway. My petty complaints of legibility aside, the package does have a kind of other-worldly sense to it, like a poster for the Renaissance Faire or something.

Listen if you like: lite dance/pop like Air, and maybe twee nonsense like Belle & Sebastian. Bjork or Kate Bush fans might give it a chance, but it's remarkably tame when compared to either of those two. All those ~~deaf people~~ incredibly insightful people who loved that ~~annoying~~ brilliant mid-'90s tribute to The Carpenters will probably like Goldfrapp. Owl fetishists and/or furries could seriously dig the artwork.

If it were food, it'd be: sugar free cake with extra saccharine and one deliciously out-of-place piece of fresh fruit right in the middle.

Sheryl Crow: The Very Best of Sheryl Crow

2008-11-14T09:33:00.001-05:00

You, dear reader, have no idea how deep my love for you runs. You think it's all fun and games over here at the offices of Pratt Songs, but we suffer for you. (That's offices, plural, mind you. Tonight, for instance, we're working from our office at the window table at the Panera Bread in Rosedale, mostly because our staff feels like shit and really needs some hot soup. And don't even get us started about how we're referring to ourselves in the plural. Just because you don't hear voices in your head doesn't mean you need to spoil our fun.)

Anyway. As I was saying, I suffer. To prove it, I'm listening to The Very Best of Sheryl Crow, a hits package from my third-most-despised artist in the history of rock music. (The list goes something like 1: Steely Dan; 2: Joni Mitchell; 3: Sheryl Crow; 4: Carly Simon; 5: Steely Dan.) But I'm listening, and I'm doing everything in my power to listen objectively, so I can give you the Fair And Balanced™ review that you've come to expect from Pratt Songs.

Music:
There's really nothing wrong with Sheryl Crow. Her songs are all memorable, her bands are made up of top-notch session musicians, and she's not a bad storyteller. The problem is, her music sounds like Los Angeles.

A writer named Michael Ventura wrote the most insightful thing I've ever read about Los Angeles. He wrote that the city has no innate personality. You can move to New York and become loud and obnoxious, or move to New Orleans and listen to jazz, or move to Baltimore and snort heroin while you call everyone "hon." But you can't move to LA with the expectation that the city's personality will supplement what you're lacking.

Every song on this album sounds like Los Angeles. These are songs whose personalities are so vague that you can dump your own experiences into them and let them become your personal soundtrack. These are musicians who can play anything under the sun, but who never succeed at developing their own unique sound. These are stories whose characters and plots are more than willing to step aside and let someone else's life story take over.

My problem is I love songs with personality. I love musicians who put emotion before proficiency. And while I love stories that have a universal appeal, I really love stories that are best told by the person who lived them.

I don't believe that Sheryl Crow lived a single one of the songs on this album. And if I don't believe in the truth of a song, there's nothing it can offer to make up for what it lacks.

Packaging:
This is a good package, particularly considering the lackluster inserts given to most best-of collections. There's an essay that talks about how Sheryl Crow possesses a truly unique and passionate voice (I'd take it more seriously if it weren't written by a guy who lists The Teen Choice Awards 2005 and Christina Aguilera: My Reflection among his TV writing credits) and about 8,000 photos of Crow. There are no lyrics, which is disappointing, but the overall design of the package holds together well and compliments the music.

Listen if you like: The Eagles, Joni Mitchell, Melissa Etheridge, Los Angeles

If it were food, it'd be: A late-night sandwich at "Rock and Roll Denny's" on Sunset and Vista in Hollywood. The place seemed exciting and genuine on the surface, but it was really just bad food and dull people, both claiming to be far greater than they really were. As far as I can tell, the place has closed down, and I can't say I feel one bit of nostalgia for it.

The Chemical Brothers: We Are The Night

2008-11-07T06:59:00.000-05:00

I'm not really sure what it is about these guys that got both critics and music fans in such a tizzy in the late '90s. Yeah, they make energetic dance music that has elements of rock. So what? So do about a hundred other dance/rock hybrids. The Chemical Brothers are a band that mastered the lowest common denominator of both rock and electronica, but never excelled at either genre.

My opinion is not held by many people, though. Since I haven't listened to anything the band has released since Surrender came out in '99, I figure it's time to see if there's a bit more chemistry between my ears and their sound.

Music:
The production is very good, but We Are The Night is dull. The band still knows how to rock, but they don't go in that direction very often. (When they do, they rock in a very safe and commercial way... kind of like the Foo Fighters.) Most of the music is the safe, light, middle-of-the-road electronica that I've come to expect from groups like Air. "Do It Again" is my favorite track on the album, but it sounds like it could've been on pretty much any Felix Da Housecat 12" from the past five years (which has hardly been Mr. Housecat's best period).

Packaging:
Eh. The constellation motif is kind of neat, and the mountain motif is kind of neat, and the hand motif is kind of neat, yet it's all kind of boring. As with the music, there's just not enough here to hold my attention.

Listen if you like: Easy-to-digest dance music like Air. Those of you who miss Pharcyde should like "The Salmon Dance" (which features vocalist Fatlip), but the song sticks out like a sore thumb. Fans of the sound that made The Chemical Brothers famous won't find much here.

If it were food, it'd be: Campbell's soup. Its watered-down taste appeals to the masses but is utterly uninspired.

His Name Is Alive: presents Sweet Earth Flower, a tribute to Marion Brown

2008-11-04T09:16:00.000-05:00

I bought HNIA's debut CD, Livonia, back when I was obsessed with everything that came out on 4AD. It was a wafty and lofty affair that was completely forgettable, even to someone who loved all things wafty and lofty. I watched as HNIA released album after album in the nearly two decades since Livonia came out, but despite a ridiculous amount of critical acclaim, I never felt compelled to listen to them again.

As soon as I saw the cover of Sweet Earth Flower at EPFL, though, I knew I wanted to hear it. Although you can't judge a CD by its cover, Sweet Earth Flower screamed out that it was as different from Livonia as an album could possibly be. Thus, after nearly 20 years apart, I am finally reunited with HNIA.

Music:
Before hearing Sweet Earth Flower, I didn't know Marion Brown from Marion Barry. I had a vague idea that he was a jazz musician, but I couldn't have even told you with any certainty whether he was a he or a she.

Since I haven't heard any of Brown's music, I guess this might be an awful and disrespectful tribute to him. I can't imagine how that's possible, though, because this music is awesome. It's tempered and boundless at the same time. It is wild, yet its restraint is what makes it shine.

Comparisons to Fela Kuti -- particularly the modal arrangements and the relentless energy of the rhythm section -- are completely fitting. The opening track reminds me of Ornette Coleman's "Lonely Woman," and "November Cotton Flower" makes me remember how it felt to sit in a dark room and listen to Pink Floyd's "Shine on You Crazy Diamond."

Packaging:
The package is simple. It contains two stenciled images (presumably of Brown), some very basic credits, and a statement that a portion of sales will be donated to a charity that helps children in Nepal. That's it. The stencils are well-done, and could easily be featured in an awesome book of street art. It's a shame they didn't say anything about Brown, but I guess they figured anyone who cared enough to listen to this would either already know the man or know how to use that fancy Google thingie.

Listen if you like: Sun Ra, Ornette Coleman, Fela Kuti, Pink Floyd, John Zorn, Marion Brown

If it were food, it'd be: an earthy stew with potatoes and legumes and a lot of crazy spices

U2: Zooropa

2008-10-31T15:36:00.001-04:00

I've never seen eye to eye with most record critics on Zooropa. It is generally regarded as one of the better albums in U2's catalog, but no matter how hard I've tried (and believe me, I've tried hard), I cannot hear anything but a lot of good ideas wrapped in half-baked execution.

It's been seven or eight years since I last listened to Zooropa, so when I saw it sitting on the shelf at the EPFL, I knew it was time to try again.

Music:
Sonically, this might be U2's most adventurous album. The band completely reinvented their sound on their previous record, Achtung Baby, and it seems as if that album's success gave them the courage to push their boundaries even farther this time around. The production of this CD is nearly flawless.

Unfortunately, while the production of Zooropa is as inspired as David Bowie's Berlin trilogy, the songs could be from Bowie's lackluster Never Let Me Down.

Despite a few gems, Zooropa possesses some of the weakest lyrics that Bono has ever written. Musically, these songs flutter around in circles, which is a shame because most of them could have flown if they'd received the nurturing care that U2 typically gives their songs. Tracks like "The First Time" and "Daddy's Gonna Pay for Your Crashed Car" simply revisit great moments in the band's history, while "The Wanderer" makes it hard to believe that either U2 or guest vocalist Johnny Cash had any great moments left. Even the best songs on Zooropa ("Stay (Faraway, So Close!)," "Numb," and "Lemon") sound like b-sides when compared to the band's truly great songs.

Packaging:
The album consists of underdeveloped ideas wrapped in great production. The package consists of great ideas wrapped in bad Photoshop.

Listen if you like: I don't really know. If you love Rattle and Hum, you're probably either open-minded enough or blindly loyal enough to love this album.

If it were food, it'd be: a half-baked cake.

My Chemical Romance: The Black Parade Is Dead!

2008-10-28T06:41:00.001-04:00

Some albums deserve to played live. You hear them, and you fantasize how great it would be to hear them in concert, start to finish, all the way through. Every bit of brilliance would shine as brightly as it does on the studio record, but it would be combined with the spontaneity and excitement than only a live show can provide. Unfortunately, as live performances of albums like The Wall and Operation: Mindcrime have shown, some live albums are much better left to fantasy.

(Yeah, the studio version of Operation: Mindcrime might've been better left to fantasy as well, but I'm trying to make a point here.)

Music:
Frankly, The Black Parade Is Dead! is a lot better than a live rendition of a concept album has any right to be. The band sounds great, the recording quality is excellent, and there's a ton of energy from both the stage and the audience. I just don't really hear any reason why it needed to be released. Does it add anything to The Black Parade? Not really, other than some chanting from the crowd and an occasional breathless moment from vocalist Gerard Way. And that gets to the core problem with live versions of concept records: the originals are so carefully crafted and created and recorded that there is no room for spontaneity, which just might be the greatest part of live shows.

Don't get me wrong: this is a very good live record. I just don't hear anything that makes this as good as The Black Parade, or even a necessary companion for anyone but the most devoted fans.

Packaging:
The package is perfectly fine for a live record, and it probably deserves higher than a 2.5. There are some good photos, and even a few great ones. The cover is a bit cheesy, but once you look at it for a while, it's actually kind of cool.

The problem is, the package for the original album is one of the best I've ever seen. The regular version of the CD is stellar, yet it's nothing compared to the limited edition vinyl release. The packaging for the limited edition record is, hands down, the best I've seen in nearly 30 years of loving rock music.

This just doesn't compare to that. My 2.5 library card ranking may be unfair, but go pick up the vinyl of The Black Parade and you'll understand where I'm coming from.

Listen if you like: My Chemical Romance

If it were food, it'd be: A frozen gourmet dinner. It's good, but it just doesn't compare to the real thing.

Various Artists: Dynamite! Dancehall Style 100%

2008-10-24T06:26:00.000-04:00

When I review CDs, I try very hard to be objective. Sometimes I go into a review hoping to destroy an album, and I end up giving it a ridiculously high rating. Then there are times when I give a record a mediocre score despite the fact that I really want to praise it. I'd like to think that I've listened to enough music -- and a varied enough selection of music -- that I can write a review that transcends my personal likes and dislikes.

When it comes to dancehall, though, I've got no objectivity. I love dancehall. Love it, love it, love it. I probably don't know enough about it to distinguish the good from the bad, because when I hear those basslines rolling behind those sing-song vocals, I just get a big smile on my face and I lose myself in the rhythm. There's some dancehall that I like more than other dancehall, but that's kind of like saying there are some dogs I like more than other dogs.

(As an aside, I'd never heard of Soul Jazz Records, the label that put this out, until Tom in the Sights & Sounds department at the main EPFL location turned me onto the Nicky Siano collection. It's a great label, and I've bought a fair amount of their music in the past six months. Who knows when/if I would've gotten turned on to Soul Jazz if I weren't hanging out at the library, exploring the music, and talking to the librarians. If you live in Baltimore and you haven't gone over to the EPFL on Cathedral St., you're really missing out.)

Music:
This is the best dancehall collection I've ever heard. Unlike so many compilations out there, this disc trusts the listener. It trusts that the listener wants to hear more than another typical collection of hits. There's some challenging music on here, and it's exciting to hear the way different artists have -- both in the present and the distant past -- pushed the boundaries of this reggae offshoot. Dynamite! might not be a good CD for someone who wants an easily digestible collection of dancehall hits, but it's a superb listen for anyone who loves music and/or wants to learn more about dancehall.

Packaging:
The second sentence in the liner notes says, "We love dancehall." I relate. I just wish the author of the three-page essay had gone into a little bit more historical detail than he/she did. More detail on each song, along with more names, dates, and influences would've been nice. Out of nearly two dozen artists, only three had their photos included in the book. I'm not sure why these three got special treatment, but there's nothing particularly special about their photos.

Listen if you like: Shabba Ranks, Shaggy, Buju Banton, or any other mainstream dancehall artists. Anyone who likes reggae and wants a really good overview of one of its evolutionary branches should give this a listen.

If it were food, it'd be: a tasty burrito. As with dancehall and dogs, I've never met a burrito I didn't like (although some I certainly like more than others)

Eric Dolphy: Out to Lunch

2008-10-22T00:02:00.000-04:00

The first time I heard Eric Dolphy was on John Coltrane's Impressions, and he stopped me dead in my tracks. When Dolphy's bass clarinet solo in "India" came through the speakers, I felt as if I'd just been wrapped in a warm blanket on a cold night. Of course, Dolphy was just as much of a musical freak as Coltrane, so the moment of calmness quickly evolves into a beautifully crazy solo. (Impressions doesn't seem to be available from the EPFL, but if you have any stomach for experimental music that pushes limits, I highly recommend it.)

I tried to listen to Dolphy's solo stuff over the years, but everything I heard sounded like the kind of post-bop swill that makes me despise jazz. Ever since I found some used Sun Ra CDs over at Sound Garden a few months ago, though, I've been open to jazz for the first time in over a decade. It didn't take me long to find my way back to Dolphy, in hopes that there was a gem or three in his catalog that I'd overlooked.

Music:
The opening notes of "Hat and Beard" are the kind of mid-'60s jazz that became the touchstone for the clichéd image of the goatee-wearing hipster. This isn't some joke jazz record, though. The music walks between Charles Mingus, Ornette Coleman, and Coltrane. Dolphy's first solo is angular and abstract in all the right ways, and he pushes pretty much every sonic boundary he can find. The entire disc continues in this vein, and despite the fact that I don't normally like most of these musicians, they are phenomenal here. "Something Sweet, Something Tender" might be the greatest moment on the album, because it demonstrates how music can still be soft and beautiful without compromising its experimental edge.

I'll warn you, though, that Dolphy's music is not for the faint of heart. This is tough music that can take a lot of effort to appreciate, but the rewards are huge if you're willing to put in the work.

Packaging:
This might not be the best cover that Blue Note put out, but it's a contender. The design is superb. The photo is simple on the surface, but the image of the clock speaks volumes about the music contained within. I'm sure the four-page essay in the liner notes is fascinating, but honestly, the music is too demanding for me to both read and listen. (I do miss the days when albums came with essays. For those of us who love words as much as we love music, there's nothing better than getting a hefty dose of both in one package.)

Listen if you like: Charles Mingus, Ornette Coleman, John Coltrane. Fans of groups like The Mars Volta or Mr. Bungle have a good chance of liking what's going on here.

If it were food, it'd be: Black coffee.

The Postal Service: Give Up

2008-10-17T06:23:00.000-04:00

This is going to be a tough review to write. I probably haven't listened to another album more frequently in the past four years than I've listened to Give Up. I know pretty much every word, every note, and every moment of silence. It's one of my favorite albums of the 2000s, so it's going to be difficult to listen to it with objective ears and say something other than, "I love this album, so it must be great!"

Music:
The music is consistently solid. The warm and quirky electronics of Jimmy Tamborello (aka Dntel) are the yin to the yang of Ben Gibbard (aka that dude from Death Cab For Cutie). When the two men gel, the music they make together is wonderfully rich and captivating. When they don't gel -- something that only happens a few times and passes quickly when it does -- the music is rich but boring. "This Place Is a Prison" is desperate and creepy, "Sleeping In" is sweet and poignant, and "Brand New Colony" has some of the most creative expressions of devotion that I've ever heard, whether in song, poem, or prose.

Packaging:
The photos are odd and kind of charming, and the typefaces have the same juxtaposition of traditional and modern that the music does. Most of the lyrics are excellent, and I'm glad they're included. Otherwise, though, there's nothing special here.

Listen if you like: Death Cab for Cutie, electronic indie rock, '80s new wave, charming pop songs with excellent lyrics

If it were food, it'd be: a picnic lunch with your ex on a sunny September afternoon

Robyn Hitchcock: Spooked

2008-10-14T06:04:00.001-04:00

There's a place in Arkansas called Crater of Diamonds State Park where, for a small admission fee, you can search for diamonds and keep those that you find. I've never been to the place, but my guess is that most people don't walk away with enough diamonds to make up for the $6.50 they drop to get inside.

Robyn Hitchcock's Spooked is kind of like the Crater of Diamonds State Park. There are some treasures sprinkled throughout the album, but they're few and far between, and you probably won't find enough of them to make up for the time and/or money you spent on the record.

Music:
I bought Robyn Hitchcock's Eye album many years ago, because "Beautiful Girl" is an awesome song, but the CD ended up in a used bin somewhere in Jersey because I needed rent money after the dot-com bust. Listening to Spooked reminds me of all the songs I'd forgotten off of Eye -- awful songs that I'm completely happy to have forgotten.

"Tryin' to Get to Heaven Before They Close the Door" is easily the best song on Spooked, and it's a perfect fit for a sad scene in an indie hipster movie. The rest of the album is lame. "Television" is one corny rhyme away from being an Adam Sandler song, and it's one of the better songs on the disc. Fortunately, there are little diamonds scattered throughout the album. Sometimes they come in the form of a lyrical phrase, and at others they appear as a short series of notes on the guitar or a vocal harmony. They're probably not worth the admission price, but they take away the sting if you've already shelled out your money.

Packaging: n/a
Normally I whine whenever the EPFL destroys a package to fit it into a jewel box, but not this time. I don't know what the deal was with the original packaging; maybe it was too weird to cut up and fit in a box, or maybe it got stolen or destroyed. Whatever the case may be, someone at the EPFL printed/photocopied the front and back covers and stuck them in a jewel box. That's really nice that they went through that much effort, just so I could read song titles while I'm driving.

Listen if you like: Violent Femmes, Leonard Cohen, sitting around and bragging about your eclectic taste in music

If it were food, it'd be: A dry, organic muffin that yields the very occasional treat of a juicy berry

Radiohead: In Rainbows

2008-10-10T06:34:00.001-04:00

Since I've never heard In Rainbows, I'm going to try something: I'm going to listen to this album and pretend I don't know anything about Radiohead. I'm going to imagine that I've never heard OK Computer or The Bends. I'm going to ignore the rather clever marketing strategy that made In Rainbows get write-ups in countless publications when it came out. I'm going to listen to the record as if it's some random CD that I just happened to pick up at the EPFL because the cover looked interesting.

Why am I doing this? Because I want to see if I can separate the music from the mystique. I want to see if the critical acclaim is warranted, or if we're all simply complimenting Emperor Thom on his pretty new clothes.

Music:
The record starts off strong. The 5/4 time signature on "15 Step" is interesting and driving without sounding too much like math- and/or prog-rock. The bassline grooves, the guitar and synths are like shiny threads that wind through the music, and Thom Yorke's voice is strong. It's a promising start, and it makes me excited to hear the rest of the album.

Unfortunately, the rest of the album is disappointing. "Bodysnatchers" sounds like a Smashing Pumpkins throwaway with less energy and smaller hooks. "Nude" is stiffer than a Hopkins engineering student at Club Choices on a Saturday night. (This is a Baltimore blog, people. If you don't get the reference, just move here already.) "All I Need" is like a Blue Nile song without the warmth (and if there are any Blue Nile fans out there, you know that Paul Buchanan's warmth was the only thing that made them special). The lowest point of all, though, has to be the faux-folk "House of Cards," whose lyrics made me laugh out loud the first time I heard the song.

So. The emperor is modeling his fantastic new songs, and his subjects are all praising them. I'm a bit disappointed in myself for being too stupid to hear anything other than third-rate art rock.

Packaging:
The actual package was altered by the EPFL, but it looks like it was nice in its original form. The text is incredibly hard to read, but as with most Radiohead albums, it fits with the overarching aesthetics. I don't know enough about art to say whether these are brilliant paint splotches or generic paint splotches, but it looks to me like there's a lot of energy and movement in the artwork. I particularly like the yellow, fetus-like image on the front of the booklet.

Listen if you like: Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead, or Radiohead. Radiohead fans might find something they like, and anyone who likes Radiohead should certainly give it a listen.

If it were food, it'd be: A gourmet meal from an overhyped chef whose food is wildly inconsistent.

Radiohead: Hail to the Thief

2008-10-07T06:09:00.000-04:00

After hearing Kid A, I was fairly certain that Radiohead had grown incapable of putting out anything other than self-indulgent wanking. Glad to see I was wrong.

Music:
Okay, so Hail to the Thief is self-indulgent, but it's also good. The band has energy, the songs are edgy, and the album is experimental. Most importantly, Radiohead rarely loses site of what made them great in the first place: they're a rock band with a mighty big imagination. Most of the songs are basic pop songs, but the band forces them to do things that are completely unnatural in pop music. Each song possesses layers of sound that reveal new secrets even after repeat plays. The music has a manic desperation that gets better with every listen. To me, this is a record that could accompany the end of the world. My only complaint about the album is it sounds like Son of OK Computer rather than Radiohead Does Something New.

(It's interesting to listen to "A Punchup at a Wedding," then listen to "Chimera Obscura" by The Velvet Teen. It sounds as if The Velvet Teen took a Radiohead idea and ran in a completely different direction with it. Each is a very strong song in its own way.)

Packaging:
I'm not even going to try to describe the meaning behind the painting of words and phrases (most of which seem to come from the lyrics) that makes up the first eight pages of the booklet. I know what it means to me, but I won't pretend to know enough about art or the artist to say I know what it means, period. All I can say is the artwork is strong enough to support a bit of thought and analysis. The lyrics are printed after the map of words, and they are the kind of words that are typical of Radiohead's brightest moments.

Listen if you like: Radiohead's OK Computer, Pink Floyd, Muse, Gorillaz

If it were food, it'd be: The last can of food in a bomb shelter or a lonely man's house

Radiohead: Kid A

2008-10-03T10:39:00.000-04:00

I have an odd little story about Radiohead that has nothing to do with anything, especially Kid A. I was invited to a Capitol Records listening party in maybe 1992, where a bunch of dimwits from the label played their upcoming releases and asked our opinion. The first song they played was "Creep" by Radiohead, and I was floored. Each successive artist got worse and worse, and my comments grew more and more scathing, to the point where I asked the host why the label was even still in business when it was obviously run by a bunch of deaf imbeciles. It was probably six months before "Creep" was released, and the song had taken such mythical proportions in my head that I was certain I'd be disappointed when I heard it again. Nope. It was just as good as I'd remembered.

Music:
This ain't "Creep," baby. I'm a big fan of experimental music, but the downside to experimentation is that every success stems from dozens of failures. These songs sound like the failures. There are one or two songs on Kid A that are pretty good, as long as you don't compare them to good Radiohead songs. There are a few moments where the experiments kinda sorta almost succeed, especially if you're distracted by talking on the phone or beating your thumb with a hammer. And then there's the rest of the album, which is on par with the ambient noodling that every jackass seemed compelled to record in the late '90s.

I wholeheartedly recommend that you skip Kid A and instead pick up OK Computer and Tim Hecker's Harmony in Ultraviolet next time you're at the Pratt Library. Together, these two albums succeed at all of Kid A's failures.

Packaging:
The package is gorgeous, but it's ultimately pointless. The printing is beautiful, and the way every page is a bit different -- some are translucent vellum and some fold out -- makes the booklet feel like a tiny piece of art. But when you look at what's printed on the paper, the images are just as limited and shallow as the music.

Listen if you like: basking in the approval of rock snobs who lack the ability to form their own opinions and cannot recognize the difference between innovation and garbage.

If it were food, it'd be: Grape Kool-Aid

Radiohead: OK Computer

2008-09-30T05:55:00.000-04:00

Like any well-behaved music fan in the '90s, I bought into the OK Computer hype. I basked in the proggy arrangements, I praised Radiohead as the future of rock, and I listened to the album with all the open-mindedness of a newly minted cult member. For some reason, though, I haven't once missed my copy of the record since I sold it in 2000. Why aren't I fondly reminiscing about it? Perhaps the record is overrated, or maybe I simply absorbed its charms so completely that I no longer need to hear the music to experience its greatness. Either way, it's time to check out the EPFL's copy and see how the album holds up, nearly 10 years after my last listen.

Music:
OK Computer is definitely experimental. The band plays with song structures, instrumentation, production, arrangements... really, they took everything that makes up a pop song and messed with it. For the most part, it works well. Some of the lyrics are pretty stupid, but they work in context.

OK Computer is definitely important. The album's influence is vast, and you can find touches of OK Computer in every style of music from reggae to classical. The influence might be most dramatically felt on the generation of post-punk and indie bands who have found moody soundscapes to be just as vital as power chords.

But I can hear something now that I couldn't hear back when OK Computer first came out: the band's brain is trying to dominate its heart. Most great rock has a hefty chunk of smarts in one way or another, but the best rock is special because it comes from the heart. On OK Computer, Radiohead's heart was losing ground to its brain. Fortunately, the band was still favoring passion and excitement over mathematical time signatures and computer-generated bleeps, but the brain was creeping up in an unpleasant manner.

All in all, I'm glad to have rediscovered this album, because it's a solid piece of music. In retrospect, though, it's not quite as perfect as we all made it out to be back in the late '90s.

Packaging:
It's strange how this artwork is completely iconic yet completely anonymous. If you ask the typical Radiohead fan to pick out the cover from a display of 50 record covers across the room, my guess is that most of them would immediately identify OK Computer. But what if you ask the same fan to describe what's on the cover? Is anyone going to mention a highway? Or an airplane's emergency evacuation instructions? Or the words "Lost Child?" My guess is no. It's kind of neat how the overall vibe of the design is so memorable, but the individual elements are almost meaningless. I guess that makes it a perfect accompaniment to the album, which is full of music whose overall vibe is memorable, while the individual instruments are almost meaningless. My only complaint is the lyrics are a pain to read, but given the package, their decision to favor form over function is understandable.

Listen if you like: Pink Floyd, TV on the Radio, Sunny Day Real Estate, The Mars Volta, early Peter Gabriel... really, anything that is remotely experimental but still rocks.

If it were food, it'd be: A ripe, juicy, delicious, genetically modified tomato.

Lou Reed: Transformer

2008-09-26T06:00:00.000-04:00

I'd always blindly accepted that Lou Reed is a legend, and a creative genius, and blah blah blah. But not long ago, I heard "Walk on the Wild Side" and I realized it's a pretty awful song. The melody is memorable, but the music is a trite reworking of '50s rock and roll.

The worst part of the song is the lyrics. They're full of lame rhymes (oooh... he rhymed "away" with "pay." Brilliant!), and they trick you into thinking you've been told a story when you've actually only met the characters. Yeah, Holly's a drag queen... so what? What about her? Who is she? I guess telling her story would actually require talent, and Reed seems a little short in that department.

With this sort of thought in mind, I decided to check out Transformer from the EPFL and listen to the whole album. Maybe I'm being too hard on the guy.

Music:
I don't think I'm wrong about Lou Reed. In fact, he might be one of the most overrated artists out there.

That's not to say I didn't find some good things on the album. "Perfect Day" is a phenomenal song. It highlights one of my biggest complaints about Reed, though: the man wouldn't know subtlety if he tripped over it. One reason "Perfect Day" is great is because it's completely open to interpretation. He didn't beat anybody over the head with his normal, "HEY LOOK AT ME, I'M A FREAKY DRUG ADDICT FREAK WHO HANGS OUT WITH FREAKS" nonsense. He simply sang his song and let the lyrics take the listener where they would.

I almost wonder if people celebrate Lou Reed because he gives 'straight' people (and I don't mean sexually straight, I mean culturally straight) a glimpse of the other side, the dark side, the "wild" side. My problem is, I've spent more than enough time with club kids and tranny hookers and drug addicts and all of the other people Reed sings about. His rose-colored portrayal of the wild side is bullshit. The straight side is dull, but the wild side certainly isn't all it's cracked up to be. Next time you see a transvestite heroin-addict whore, ask her if she'd like to clean up and live a quiet and stable life in a nice house with a kind man who treats her well. In my experience, the answer is almost always yes, even though most of them know they'll die before they beat their demons. Now ask someone who lives a quiet and stable life in a nice house with a kind man who treats her well if she ever fantasizes about giving it all up to become a drug-addicted prostitute.

I could go on and on about this album. The snideness of "New York Telephone Conversation" is pathetic, because the characters that Reed portrays with such love are just as shallow as the antagonists of that vapid phone conversation. He occasionally breaks away from his primitive rock and roll songwriting long enough to offer up a lame imitation of the Beatles' quirkiness, but a turd wrapped in a string section is still a turd. Actually, the arrangements by Mick Ronson are probably the best part of the album, and the bass on "Wild Side" is the only reason I can even get through the song.

Packaging:
The cover art is pretty awesome. It's a rough image of a rough-looking man, and it sets the tone for the subject matter. I only wish the music sounded more like the cover looks. The EPFL has two version of the CD; the one I checked out is a 2002 reissue, and I assume the other is one of the quick hack-job packages that every label slapped on their back catalogs when CDs became huge. The liner notes are interesting, but I only got through a couple of pages before the Lou Reed hero worship turned me off.

Listen if you like: cheesy rhymes, pre-British Invasion rock & roll filtered through '70s pre-punk, pretending drug addicts are fascinating rebels who are living a life of freedom

If it were food, it'd be: Ramen. We eat it when we're poor, then when we can afford something better, we romanticize how great it was.

Angels and Airwaves: We Don't Need to Whisper

2008-09-23T06:39:00.000-04:00

A few months ago, someone sent a postcard to Post Secret that read "Angels and Airwaves renewed my faith in God and love." Needless to say, when I saw We Don't Need to Whisper at the EPFL the week after that secret ran, I had to check it out.

Angels and Airwaves didn't renew my faith in God or love, but they certainly did restore my faith that a big and commercial band could possess nearly everything that makes rock music so incredible.

Music:
This is a perfect album, in the same way that Titanic was a perfect movie. It's not breaking new ground, it's a little simplistic, and all the snobs will dismiss it as commercial crap; but it's well-done, it connects with its audience, and it functions on an incredibly human level. Every single song is well-written and memorable, and the performances contain a good amount of subtle creativity. Most of all, though, despite all the big names and the glamour and the glitz, it's got heart. And heart, my friends, is what makes rock music perfect.

Packaging:
I'm not really sure how a dude floating through space while holding an umbrella relates to WWII fighter jets, and I'm not sure how any of it relates to angels, airwaves, or the combination of the two. Frankly, the artwork smells a bit too much like a Styx cover for my tastes, but hey, it's a mighty good cover if you're into that Styxy (Styxie? Stygian?) kind of thing. The lyrics are included, which is good but probably unnecessary since I was pretty much singing along with every song by my second pass through the album.

Listen if you like: Blink 182 songs like "Down" or "I Miss You" (Blink vocalist Tom DeLonge is the man behind A∓A), U2, Foo Fighters

If it were food, it'd be: A Granny Smith apple: a simple, unique, and tasty snack that is sure to annoy foodies.

Jezzreel: Great Jah Jah

2008-09-19T05:42:00.000-04:00

I haven't written anything lately about how awesome the Enoch Pratt Free Library is. How many libraries in the country have any of the Wackies reissues? How many people have even heard of Jezzreel, let alone have the ability to drive down to their local library and check it out? I don't know the answer to either of those questions, but my guess for both would be "approximately zero, at least outside of Baltimore."

Whether or not you like this particular release, it's proof of the fact that whoever is responsible for buying music for Pratt is doing a great job! He/She/They are the only reason that, more than a year into this blog, I'm still excited every week to visit the EPFL and see what I'll find. (For you Baltimore folks, take a look at the Pratt Library Media blog to see what's new.)

Music:
Great Jah Jah originally came out in 1980 on Lloyd Barnes' Wackies label. It's good stuff if you're a fan of reggae, but there's nothing crucial that a casual listener needs to hear. The vocals are solid but fairly typical for late '70s reggae, although the harmonies between Clive Davis and Christopher Harvey (and, I assume, background vocalist Noel Delahaye) are strong and occasionally haunting. The bass and drums are very good, but some of the bass notes were distorted during the recording, which can be a bit distracting given the instrument's prominence in the mixes. The songs have plenty of room to stretch out and breathe, but I honestly started getting bored by the end of the disc.

Packaging: n/a (Altered by EPFL)
Just read what I wrote about the package for Horace Andy's Dance Hall Style (another Wackies release) because the same exact thing is true here.

Listen if you like: Honestly, I don't know enough about reggae or dub to make really valid comparisons, but I'd think anyone who likes Gregory Isaacs, Trinity, or Sugar Minott should check this out.

If it were food, it'd be: A bottle of Red Stripe. It's great if you're into Red Stripe, otherwise it's just beer. (Hooray, beer!)

U2: Pop

2008-09-16T06:36:00.000-04:00

I would argue that U2 is the only true successor to The Beatles' throne. Sure, U2 isn't as exciting as Zeppelin or as heavy as Sabbath or as yearning as Springsteen or as bald as Phil Collins, but there isn't another band out there (other than The Beatles) who perfectly balance everything that makes rock so incredible. They are one of the very few rock groups to successfully reinvent themselves, and they might be the only band to do it more than once.

Music:
Pop would've been stronger if a song or two had been removed ("The Playboy Mansion" is the worst offender), and it didn't capture the energy of American club culture nearly as well as Achtung Baby captured the excitement of European dance music. With that said, the album is far better than critics make it out to be. Songs like "Mofo," "Gone," and "Miami" have an incredible amount of energy, while "Staring at the Sun" and "Do You Feel Loved" are good pop songs.

The highlight of Pop comes in the last three tracks, though. "If You Wear That Velvet Dress" nails the darkness of temptation, "Please" reeks of desperate prayers for a fragile peace, and "Wake Up Dead Man" is probably the most hopelessly hopeful song I've ever heard. These three songs alone make Pop an essential album for anyone who truly loves rock music.

Packaging:
When you strip the booklet to its barest elements, it's nothing more than lyrics, credits, and photos. But this is U2 at the point in their career where everything they did was larger than life, and the booklet reflects it. The jacket is printed on a silver background (which makes the grey text occasionally difficult to read), and the entire package screams out with loud colors. It's very well-done, but it mimics many of the design elements of electronic dance music of the time, making it less original than it could have been.

Listen if you like: the dancey side of U2, but especially listen if you like the songs that end U2 albums. If you like "Exit" or "Love is Blindness" or "40," the last three tracks on Pop will be right up your alley.

If it were food, it'd be: a fresh fruit smoothie at an after-hours dance club. You might be drinking it because you're dehydrated from drugs or alcohol, or you might be drinking it because it's 6am and you've been sober all night, but either way it's refreshing and revitalizing.

Imogen Heap: Speak for Yourself

2008-09-12T00:07:00.001-04:00

Despite the fact that I despise nearly all of the girly trippy-hoppy dancey singers who followed in the wake of Massive Attack and Portishead, I find Imogen Heap to be oddly compelling.

Perhaps I like her because she is a common-man's Bjork: she has enough talent to back up her bizarre artistic vision, but she disguises it so that her listeners aren't bombarded by her oddness. Then again, maybe I like her because she writes memorable melodies, or because she balances drama and melodrama, or because she never lets cheesy effects (which she uses aplenty) bury her unique ideas.

Whatever the reason, every time I hear her sing "Holding Out for a Hero" (from the Shrek 2 soundtrack) or "Let Go" (from the Garden State soundtrack), I get a huge smile on my face. Then there's her contribution to the bizarre, Old Testament-inspired Plague Songs, on which she uses a lighthearted metaphor of love to mask a plague of locusts.

Hmmm... now that I think of it, any artist who can seamlessly combine trip-hop, ogres, Bonnie Tyler, indie-rock kids from Jersey, and Biblical plagues can't be all bad.

Music:
Speak for Yourself is good, but it gets boring by the end. She created the album almost entirely on her own, and it's hard to not be impressed by her studio trickery. (The rhythm track on one song was created by hitting CD cases against empty carpet tubes.) But like Herbert, Heap sometimes buries her talent too deep within her simple songs. There might be some incredible meaning behind lines like "Why d'ya have to be so cute / It's impossible to ignore you," but I sure can't find it. Fortunately, the songs are all pretty good, and a few of them truly showcase Heap's talent. Still, though... after an hour with Speak for Yourself, I'm ready for something else.

Packaging:
Heap may possess more than her fair share of creative gifts, but none of them are based in graphic design. The photos are contrived at best and are utter crap at worst. The text is virtually illegible, thanks to a terrible, faux-handwritten font. Oh, and the idea to put pink text on a red background was brilliant! The lyrics are included, but you're probably better off going on line and fighting your way through the pop-up ads and viruses.

Listen if you like: Dido, Sarah McLachlan, Jem, Beth Orton, etc. Fans of Herbert or Bjork should give it a shot.

If it were food, it'd be: a vegan pumpkin pie that's tasty enough to mask the fact that you're eating something 'weird.'

Bob Marley and the Wailers: Catch A Fire

2008-09-09T06:48:00.002-04:00

I'm having a hard time with this CD. Maybe it's because I've known too many annoying college kids who smoke up to Bob Marley. Maybe I've heard too many third-rate reggae bands who steal this sound but fail to capture the magic. Or maybe I'm still bitter about the dude from The Wailers who crashed in my living room for a couple of days many years ago. (He made what might be the best stew I've ever tasted, but I've still got a weird feeling about the guy and I have no idea why.)

Whatever the reason, I'm having a hard time. I know Bob Marley is great, and I know Catch A Fire is considered to be one of the greatest Bob Marley albums. Everyone who knows anything about music is supposed to be completely gaga about this, but to me, it sounds like The Eagles.

I know that's not fair, if for no other reason than this album overflows with honest-to-God heart and soul, while The Eagles never cared about much other than scoring coke and screwing girls. But still, this is as slick and polished as an Eagles album. The backup singers, the instrumentation, the melodies, the chords... everything about it is just so... so... so perfect. And when I think of what Marley was singing about, perfect seems like the completely wrong sound.

Music:
I'm giving the album a five-library-card rating, because regardless of my personal biases, it really is a perfect record. The lyrics possess depth and, unlike the dreck that The Eagles spit out, are a call for positive revolution. The guitar solo in "Concrete Jungle" is gorgeous. The bass is fluid and melodic, yet completely rhythmic. The backup singers in "Stir It Up" are reinventing '50s R&B and doo-wop. Peter Tosh's voice is powerful. And Bob Marley rides on top of it all like a ray of sunlight that warms the entire thing and brings it all together. This is an album that nearly anyone should be able to appreciate, regardless of whether they like Black Flag or Barry Manilow.

(Note: The EPFL's version of Catch A Fire contains two tracks that weren't on the original release. There is also a 2CD set that came out a few years ago that includes a whole bunch of extra songs, but I didn't see that one at Pratt.)

Packaging:
The package is pretty straightforward: photos, lyrics, credits. The thing that makes it stand out is the cover photo of Marley smoking a joint. Whether you're pro- or anti-marijuana, it was a pretty courageous move by Island Records -- especially in 1973. I don't know how much controversy it sparked (bad choice of words... sorry!), but Catch A Fire broke reggae to international audiences, so I have to assume that the cover stirred up some trouble.

Listen if you like: The Eagles. KIDDING! This is one to check out if you like pretty much any music from the past 30 years. You can hear its influence on everything from punk to hip-hop to the '70s breeze-rock schlock that Mr. Henley and Co. were writing.

If it were food, it'd be: beans. It's a healthy foundation for countless meals, regardless of whether you're wealthy or flat broke.

Alejandro Escovedo: The Boxing Mirror

2008-09-05T06:37:00.000-04:00

Rock snobs have always had a soft spot for musicians who bring a multi-cultural influence into rock. From The Beatles' foray into Indian music to the African influences of recent critic-darlings Vampire Weekend, a rock musician simply needs to whisper the name of another country in order to gain instant credibility.

With that in mind, it's no wonder that first-generation Mexican-American Alejandro Escovedo is held in such high esteem by rock snobs of every ilk. Now, I'm not saying Escovedo doesn't deserve a good amount of the recognition that he's received, but he's not really doing anything new or unique. Sure, there's a taste of Tejano music and Mexican culture, but at its core, The Boxing Mirror is a pretty generic imitation of guys like Lou Reed and Bruce Springsteen.

Music:
The first comparison that came to mind as I listened to album-opener "Arizona" was Lou Reed. I hate Lou Reed. Then I opened the liner notes and saw that John Cale produced the album. I like John Cale. With Cale's production and Reed's influence, the best and worst of the Velvet Underground are represented on The Boxing Mirror. When Cale's warm experimentation is combined with Escovedo's voice and lyrics, the album reaches quiet heights that are almost worth remembering. When Escovedo starts to rock out, the songs pretty much all sound like third rate Lou Reed ripoffs.

Now that I've aired my complaints, though, there are a few musical moments that I will carry with me for a long time. The accordion in the Tejano-flavored "The Ladder" breathes magic into the song, and when Escovedo sings "I'm so lonesome I could cry" in "Sacramento & Polk," it's like I'm hearing those six words for the very first time.

Packaging:
The paintings on the front cover and the tray card are strong images, but they don't translate well to the confines of a CD jacket. The text is easy to read, and the lyrics are included. It's a simple and effective package, but it's ultimately forgettable.

Listen if you like: If you fantasize about Lou Reed fronting Los Lobos, you'll love this.

If it were food, it'd be: Mexican food in Asbury Park, NJ.

Various Artists: Raw Funk

2008-09-02T07:10:00.001-04:00

I have never heard of Hotpie & Candy Records. I don't know where they were based, when they were releasing music, or who was in their house band. All I know is that Raw Funk is a collection of some mighty fine funk songs that came from this record label.

Music:
This is straightforward instrumental funk. It's not fancy or particularly original, but it's solid from start to finish. There's nothing here that a casual funk fan needs to hear, but there's also no reason why someone who is craving some good funk shouldn't check this out.

Packaging:
Disappointing. Somebody knew enough about this record label, the musicians who recorded there, and the songs they recorded to put out a compilation CD. So why not write at least one paragraph that covers the basic who-what-where-etc.? There are blurbs about each song, but the context is lost unless you have some sense of the history behind Hotpie & Candy. This is one of the worst packages I've ever seen, largely because it had so much potential.

Listen if you like: Booker T. and the MGs, Stax, James Brown.

If it were food, it'd be: Forgive me for being obvious, but I think hot pie and candy is a pretty fitting comparison.

Richard Ashcroft: Keys to the World

2008-08-29T08:39:00.001-04:00

I tried and tried to like Richard Ashcroft's old band, The Verve, but I never got into them. I don't really recall what they sounded like (other than the song "Bittersweet Symphony"), but if they were anything like Keys to the World, it's easy to understand why I didn't like them.

Music:
If I still worked in the music industry and someone sent me this album, it would've lasted about 15 seconds before I took it out of the CD player and threw it in the garbage. The first four songs are the most miserably contrived Rock Songs™ you could ever imagine. This is what happens when mediocre producers hire lame studio musicians to back a generic has-been. Fortunately, the fifth song was almost worth the suffering I endured: "Keys to the World" is a really good song that would've been great if it'd been performed by the Twilight Singers. I'm not sure if the songs on the second half of the album actually got a little better, or if my ears were just so numb that anything would've sounded good.

Packaging:
Look! There's a picture of Richard Ashcroft looking like a cross between Tom Verlaine and Andrew Eldritch! And there's one where he's gazing over the countryside like Nick Drake probably did. And there's one where he's wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket and... wait a second. Is there anything besides generic rock star photos in these liner notes? Oh, look, there on the last page, some tiny text that lists the credits. Brilliant!

Listen if you like: rock music, and you have no ability to tell the good from the lame.

If it were food, it'd be: bland

Jonny Greenwood: There Will Be Blood (Original Soundtrack)

2008-08-26T07:24:00.001-04:00

Bob at Rock and Roll Nonsense came up to me after seeing this movie, and he told me the music blew him away. Then he told me it was a classical score composed by Radiohead guitarist Jonny Greenwood. I went to the Pratt Library the very next day and checked it out, fully expecting to hear something similar to the 28 Days Later soundtrack. I didn't get what I expected, but what I got was pretty good.

Music:
I haven't seen the movie, but the music stands well on its own. At first, I was reminded of Bernard Herrmann's scores for some of Alfred Hitchcock's movies, but the more I listened, the more I thought of the Kronos Quartet. Greenwood's compositions continuously flow between dark romanticism and jarring dissonance, and he demonstrates a surprising ability to write good classical music. Unfortunately, the performances are a bit lackluster. Had this been performed by an ensemble like the Kronos Quartet, the fire in the music would have burned much brighter.

Packaging: n/a (Altered by EPFL)
The staff at the EPFL was kind enough to include the front cover and the majority of the credits, but if there was anything else in the package, it's been lost. Based on what is here, the liner notes look to be fairly typical for a soundtrack.

Listen if you like: Arvo Pärt, Kronos Quartet, Godspeed You! Black Emperor

If it were food, it'd be: A good Bordeaux that accompanies a delicious meal.

Horace Andy: Dance Hall Style

2008-08-21T23:53:00.001-04:00

Like many casual reggae fans who came of age after 1980, I know Horace Andy from his exceptional work with Massive Attack. I picked up a few records over the years in hopes of learning more about him, but his catalog is erratic and I got some real stinkers.

I wish I had picked up Dance Hall Style before I gave up on buying his albums, because this is about as far from being a stinker as a record can get.

Music:
Every song is good, and the record is strong enough (and short enough) to be interesting from start to finish. I'm not sure when Dance Hall Style originally came out, but it's much closer to dub than it is to the dancehall sound that is associated with guys like Buju Banton and Shabba Ranks. The drums are rock solid, but the bass drives the entire recording in an unstoppable way. (Seriously, I can't turn a song off in the middle; when I listen to this in my car, I have to sit in a parking lot and wait for the song to end because the bass is mesmerizing.) Andy's voice is the real magic here, though. It is high pitched and urgent and oddly compelling. His voice is kind of tough to get used to at first, but he definitely has one of the most unique and powerful voices in all of reggae.

Packaging: n/a (Altered by EPFL)
From what I've seen, the packaging on the reissues of the albums from the Wackie's record label are fairly simple and straightforward, but still... all that's left here are the front and back covers. The artwork looks like cheap photocopies, which they probably were, given the time and place of the album's original release.

Listen if you like: Massive Attack, Gregory Isaacs, hypnotic basslines

If it were food, it'd be: Fried plantains. They're unusual at first, but after a few tries, you become addicted to their unique flavor.

Joe Jackson: Rain

2008-08-19T07:00:00.000-04:00

Joe Jackson is probably one of the most underrated songwriters out there. Sure, he's got a loyal following and his career is entering its fourth decade, but his name never seems to come up alongside people like Paul McCartney and Leonard Cohen and Elvis Costello.

Okay, so maybe he's not quite on par with those guys. Perhaps it's because his lyrics are often too focused and/or intellectual to make a universal connection with a broad range of listeners, or maybe it's because nearly everything he touches is peppered with darkness and sarcasm. Whatever the reason, though, the songs on Rain -- like most of Jackson's catalog -- are probably some of the greatest, darkest, most thoughtful songs you've never heard.

Music:
Jackson is more consistent on Rain than he was on his last release, Volume 4, but he's not as wild and unrestrained. He still relies on bassist Graham Maby and drummer Dave Houghton, but guitarist Gary Sanford is absent, leaving only Jackson's piano and voice to fill the melodic and harmonic void. And fill it he does, albeit in an often understated way. Lyrically, the melancholy songs are among the darkest and most powerful he's ever written, and his disdain for pop culture is as cutting as ever. As with most of his albums, there are a handful of throwaway tracks, but the strong songs more than compensate.

Packaging:
Once again, the fine folks at the EPFL have mangled the package to make it fit into a jewel box, but at least the jacket survived. Both of the photos in the booklet are strong, but the cover photo -- of Jackson wearing black and smiling beneath an umbrella on a rainy street -- captures the mood of the music perfectly. The lyrics are included, and the design is decent but uninspired. The EPFL's copy of Rain includes a DVD, which I didn't watch because I'm one of about three people left in the world who doesn't want visual accompaniment to their music.

Listen if you like: Elvis Costello is the most obvious comparison, but fans of REM's lyrics, Tom Waits' stories, or Dresden Dolls' drama might like this one.

If it were food, it'd be: A cup of coffee by yourself at a window table in a downtown coffeeshop late on a rainy Sunday afternoon.

PJ Harvey: Uh Huh Her

2008-08-15T07:48:00.000-04:00

Unlike the other PJ Harvey albums from the EPFL that I've reviewed here, I'd never heard Uh Huh Her until I checked it out with my handy-dandy library card. Just like the other PJ Harvey albums from the EPFL, Uh Huh Her is pretty awesome.

Music:
Apparently, this is Harvey's attempt to do everything on her own. The credits say she wrote, performed, and produced everything on the album (except for the drums and some backup vocals). For the most part, she did a really good job. The music is aggressive, energetic, and raw, yet it still maintains the nuanced layers of sound that Harvey creates so well. There's really only one stinker: "Who the Fuck?" is a musical throwback to PJ Harvey's debut, which would be fine if the lyrics didn't sound as if they were written by a 13-year-old boy with raging hormones and a limited vocabulary. Otherwise, the songs fit together in a cohesive way that makes this an album rather than merely a collection of songs.

Packaging:
Normally I don't like packages that are centered around photos, but Harvey pulled it off. The liner notes contain a bunch of snapshots that seem to mirror her life as both an artist and a person. There are little notes about the recordings taped over the pictures, and though they're not easy to read, they give insight into her mindset as she made this record. I wish there were lyrics, but looking at the liner notes, I completely understand why they weren't included.

Listen if you like: Cat Power, Patti Smith, Nick Cave. Really, though, listen if you like the darkest and rawest moments of PJ Harvey's catalog.

If it were food, it'd be: Alcohol. You know it'll make you feel like crap, but you just can't resist... especially when you're already feeling a little down.

(Note: When I checked this out, someone who checked the disc out before me left a copy of Steely Dan Aja in the case beneath Uh Huh Her. I think Steely Dan is one of the very worst bands in the history of rock, right up there with New Edition and Sheryl Crow. I left the CD in the case, so whoever checks this one out next gets a free Steely Dan CD. Lucky you.)

Various Artists: Dave Godin's Deep Soul Treasures (Taken from the Vaults) Vol. 3

2008-07-25T10:06:00.000-04:00

I recently had to take a day-long road trip. I was certain that Dave Godin's collection of deep soul would be a musical highlight of the drive, so I saved it for last. My plan would've worked perfectly if I hadn't listened to the new Eli "Paperboy" Reed CD first.

Paperboy Reed isn't doing anything amazing. He cherry picked the finest elements of classic soul and recreated them for a modern audience. His album Roll With You is kind of like hearing The Supremes and The Miracles and The Temptations and Wilson Pickett all rolled into one band that is fantastic but ultimately unoriginal.

Deep Soul Treasures is also unoriginal. Unfortunately, there's very little fantastic to balance it out.

Music:
The problem with the music on Deep Soul Treasures is that, in most cases, it's obvious why these songs were left in the vault. The majority of the songs possess one or two fantastic elements but are mired in mediocrity. The James Brown track from 1961, "Lost Someone," has an incredible vocal track, but the band is as flaccid as a gay man at the Hustler Club. Bessie Banks' "It Sounds Like My Baby" is slow and sexy, but the background singers sound like the Mumblin' Motown Rejects.

There are a few shining stars, though. Bobby Womack's voice on "Baby I Can't Stand It" is stellar, and Betty Lavette's "Let Me Down Easy" is a dark soul gem with a vocal performance that is as inspired as the arrangement and the production.

Packaging:
The liner notes have the biased enthusiasm of a fan rather than the objectivity of an historian, but otherwise they're awesome. There are historical tidbits about every artist and song, and the photos are a mixture of headshots and images of the actual labels on records. It's the kind of booklet that's worth reading from front to back, even if you only have a passing interest in obscure soul relics.

Listen if you like: obscure soul from the '60s and '70s; filing away trivia so you can make music snobs feel inferior.

If it were food, it'd be: a bland dish that your grandmother made when you were growing up: it's not all that special unless you were there to enjoy it the first time around and/or you really love grandma.

The Church: Starfish

2008-07-22T22:28:00.002-04:00

I missed The Church the first time around. They hit their peak as I was putting down my pointy bass and taking off my spandex pants for the last time. By the time I discovered the groups who got played on LA's KROQ, Starfish had been out of regular rotation for a year or two.

I can't say I missed a lot, though. Starfish is a good album, but I don't think The Church was doing anything particularly unique. Having heard U2 and The Cure and Peter Murphy and The Mission UK and New Model Army and Midnight Oil and The Waterboys, I pretty much heard everything The Church did. Sure, they had a link to jangly bands like The Byrds, but so did The La's... and The Church certainly never wrote "There She Goes." (Although I have to admit, the guitar intro on "Reptile" is pretty awesome!)

Music:
The Church falls somewhere between Joshua Tree-era U2 and Peter Murphy on the continuum of post-new-wave alternative. The guitar playing is like a less innovative version of The Edge, and the brooding vocals are fairly typical for the not-quite goth bands of the late '80s. The production is dated, but it's not mired in cheap effects and tacky keyboard swells. The lyrics aren't as smart or poetic as they try to be, but that's a forgivable sin in context of some very good songs. The melodies are strong and the performances are solid, albeit a bit dull. "Spark" doesn't fit with the rest of the music, but it's the only major failure on the album. All in all, Starfish is a good but unessential record that holds up remarkably well 20 years after its release.

Packaging:
Eh. The (presumably) handwritten text on the cover is charismatic, but otherwise the package is pretty typical for its era. Grainy black & white photos, lame liner notes, missing lyrics, moody halftone images in the background... been there, done that.

Listen if you like: Any of the bands I mentioned up in the second paragraph. If you love any or all of those bands and you don't know The Church, you really should check this out.

If it were food, it'd be: A seafood dish at a place like Applebee's or TGIFriday's: it's a satisfying but ultimately unoriginal meal.

Various Artists: Mountain Music of Kentucky

2008-07-18T15:16:00.004-04:00

(Note: This is a 1996 Smithsonian Folkways CD re-issue of a 1959 album that documented John Cohen's travels through eastern Kentucky. John Cohen, a musicologist and member of the New Lost City Ramblers, rewrote the liner notes and added more than an hour of music that was not included on the original Folkways release.)

There's a Buddhist concept called the beginner's mind. It basically suggests we approach every moment of our lives as if that moment has never happened before. Which, of course, it hasn't, but we carry our experiences, opinions, and preconceptions with us into each new moment. After we've seen 10,000 sparrows, we tend to miss the wonder, awe, and beauty of sparrow #10,001.

A beginner's mind is incredibly helpful when listening to Mountain Music of Kentucky. If you read a couple of quotes from the liner notes, you might understand why.

"These 1959 recordings present the vigorous music of Kentucky mountain people. They sang and played banjos with a terrific energy that is almost unheard of now. They learned their music in a setting totally different from our contemporary life, in an era before people got their experiences from TV or their music from Nashville, when people plowed with mules, canned beans and tomatoes from their gardens, and reclined on front porches with slatted wooden swings attached to rafters by metal chains. Their musical memories provide us with a glimpse of a pattern which had endured for centuries."

"Back then the musicians were less concerned with audience reception, recording criteria, or stylistic finesse. They sang with an energy that came directly from them. Their voices didn't have to be measured against the standards of the entertainment industry..."

I've listened to a few dozen Smithsonian Folkways releases in the past year, and I've even fallen in love with a few of them. This one was more difficult to get through than any of the others. But the rewards it holds are incredible!

If you're brave enough to find your beginner's mind and forget everything you know about music, you just might find a humanity within this CD that is as deep and beautiful as anything you've ever heard.

Music:
These are field recordings that were made with primitive recording equipment in living rooms and front porches. For lack of a better comparison, listening to Mountain Music of Kentucky is like reading a novel written on tattered scraps of paper that were found in the closet of an old house. This is music created by real people in the places where they lived their lives. Subtle nuances like the bird chirping in the background of "Fair Miss in the Garden" are just one of the countless things that help make this music so special. Yes, this is a difficult album, but its difficulties are a vital part of its perfection.

Packaging:
The booklet deserves a five library card rating for the photos alone. Every one of Cohen's pictures tells a story, and every story is fascinating. But while a picture may be worth a thousand words, a picture cannot substitute for a thousand words. So Cohen's words are here to flesh out the story. When you put the pictures and words together, you end up with a wonderful story. The historical aspect of the notes is great, but my favorite part is Cohen's recollections of the brief time he spent with each of the performers. His words bring even more life to a very lively set of recordings.

An interesting element of Cohen's notes is that, by revisiting these recordings 35 years after they were made, he acknowledges some of the ways he's grown and changed. He writes about why he chose certain songs for the original release, and why he feels he was wrong to overlook other recordings that only saw the light of day on the '96 reissue. It's interesting to see growth and humility in a man who is obviously extremely intelligent and passionate about music.

Listen if you like: Merle Travis, Jean Ritchie, Alan Lomax, Bill Monroe, Ralph Stanley, Pete Seeger. Listen if you like outsider art. Especially listen if you like the idea of normal people sitting around and playing music together.

If it were food, it'd be: home made from scratch

Christopher O'Riley: Home to Oblivion - An Elliott Smith Tribute

2008-07-11T08:27:00.001-04:00

Yikes. It's a solo piano interpretation of Elliott Smith's music by the same guy who did two albums worth of piano versions of Radiohead songs. Unlike Radiohead, though, whose strength comes as much from their instruments as Thom Yorke's voice, Elliott Smith's greatness is defined almost entirely by his lyrics and singing. It's a tough job to capture, on a piano, the things that make Smith special.

Music:
I made a playlist where I listened to O'Riley's version of a song first, then listened to Smith's version immediately afterward. Without fail, I zoned out during the O'Riley tracks, then my attention would snap back as soon as Smith started singing. It's never good when an album does little more than fade into the background.

The arrangements and performances lie somewhere between a piano bar and a concert hall; fortunately, they lean towards the latter. It's obvious that O'Riley cares about Smith's music, because his performances are filled with layered richness and subtle nuances, but there's not a single moment that makes me say, "Wow, I understand Smith's music on a new level." Sadly, there's not even anything here that makes me say, "Wow, I sure am glad I listened to this album."

(As an aside for you Baltimore folks, this is currently classified in the EPFL's catalog under "Smith," not "O'Riley.")

Packaging:
I don't understand the significance of the cover art, but it's a nice design. The gem here is O'Riley's liner notes. If I hadn't read his story behind the album, I would've dismissed this album much more completely than I did. It's a shame, though, that words had to speak where the music didn't.

Listen if you like: Solo piano music. There's enough substance to O'Riley's performances that the album could appeal to fans of guys like Daniel Barenboim, but the music is accessible enough for folks who love players like Richard Clayderman. Unfortunately, I don't think there's much here for the typical Elliott Smith fan.

If it were food, it'd be: Sometimes when you make a gourmet version of something simple and common (like beer), it's delicious. But sometimes, like with mac & cheese, refinement and sophistication strip away the food's most special characteristics. Home to Oblivion is gourmet mac & cheese, and there's not a beer in sight with which to wash it down.

Joe Jackson: Joe Jackson Band Vol. 4

2008-07-08T07:00:00.001-04:00

I hated Joe Jackson until I was dragged to a concert during his Night Music tour. Everything about the show was amazing, and he converted me into a fan that night. I don't love everything he's done, but there are few musicians who possess a more perfect mixture of musical talent, literary wit, sarcastic bite, urbane charm, and artistic integrity. He is one of only a few trained musicians who seems -- even 30 years into his career -- to genuinely understand the subversive and revolutionary mindset of punk. At his worst, he is mediocre; at his best, he is a perfect example of rock music's limitless possibilities.

Music:
Volume 4 contains both great and mediocre moments. The album opens with a punch, but the energy gradually dissipates into an album whose upbeat songs tend to be much more pedestrian than it's quieter moments. "Little Bit Stupid" and "Dirty Martini" could be throwaway tracks from an early Foreigner album, but the lyrics and music of songs like "Love at First Light" demonstrate every bit of Jackson's versatility and talent. Overall, the lyrics aren't amazing, but Jackson's bitter sarcasm is as sharp as ever.

The EPFL's version of Vol. 4 comes with a six-song live EP. From the opening of "One More Time," the EP shows that Jackson is still a formidable live performer who hasn't lost any of the energy, excitement, or creativity that defines his stellar live album, Live 1980/86

Packaging:
The cover image is clever: it shows the volume knob of an old amplifier, with the knob turned to "4." (Get it? The volume is on 4? Volume 4!) Otherwise, the jacket is pretty basic. It contains lyrics, credits, and a decent photo of Jackson and his bandmates, the same group of guys who played with him on his first few albums. Art director Frank Olinsky should've had the sense not to break the lyrics of "Blue Flame" so half of the words are printed before the band photo and half are printed after.

Listen if you like: Anyone who likes the early Joe Jackson records should give this a listen, and there's a lot here for fans of Elvis Costello and Paul McCartney. People who like Madness or the English Beat should enjoy tracks like "Thugz 'R' Us," as should any Baltimore citizens who are annoyed by the stupid white kids from Howard County who emulate the dealers and bangers who drag this city down into an abyss of violence and poverty. I'd also suggest that anyone who loves Vince Guaraldi's "Linus and Lucy" might like the piano in "Take It Like a Man."

If it were food, it'd be: Dark chocolate. Its complex richness depends entirely upon the bitterness and beauty of its core ingredient.

Air: Pocket Symphony

2008-07-04T10:15:00.000-04:00

The scenester pretentiousness of Air's early albums has been replaced with something a bit quieter and a bit warmer, and that's a huge step in a very good direction. The problem is, there's still no depth to either the music or the words. While their older albums, like Moon Safari, always reminded me of the self-important jackasses who frequent trendy parties, Pocket Symphony reminds me of being stuck listening to the shallow confessions of the same jackasses after the parties had faded into the light of day.

Music:
At its best, the music is reminiscent of cheesy synthpop ballads by mopey guys with silly hair; at its worst, it's like melodramatic new age compositions by overwrought men with silly moustaches. The lyrics possess the depth and wisdom of a hungover hipster who is filled with half-formed regrets. When Air actually tackles a pop song, it's like hearing a dumber version of James Taylor or Dan Fogelberg. Even guest spots by Jarvis Cocker (Pulp), Neil Hannon (The Divine Comedy), and Tony Allen (Fela Kuti, The Good The Bad The Queen) can't breathe life into this dud.

Packaging:
The idea of having translucent action figures created of JB Dunckel and Nicolas Godin was pretty cool, and it's worth reading the write-up on the cover art at Sleevage. With that said, the fact that the band is represented as a couple of clear plastic toys is remarkably appropriate.

Listen if you like: Soft rock of the '70s mixed with soft new age of the '80s.

If it were food, it'd be: white bread with margarine.

Kings of Leon: Aha Shake Heartbreak

2008-07-01T07:00:00.001-04:00

As I started listening to Aha Shake Heartbreak, I was fairly certain it was going to be little more than another post-Built To Spill indie rock album. Sure, there were some interesting influences here and there, but there wasn't enough happening in those first few tracks to get me excited.

But the farther I got into the CD, the more excited I got. It wasn't just that the music was subtly painted with a palette of eclectic influences. That was cool, but what really hooked me was the way the band sounds as if they decided to ignore the rules and celebrate everything they love about rock music.

Musically, I don't know what these guys are into, but any album that can make me think of The Who, Joe Cocker and The Police over the course of a single song is doing something pretty good.

Music:
Aha Shake Heartbreak feels completely coherent, yet it sounds like it's constantly on the verge of falling apart. The performances are energetic and exciting, yet they sound exhausted. It's a good kind of exhaustion, though, as if the band had been awake for days on end but just had to pull one more song out of themselves before they collapsed. The songs aren't memorable in the traditional pop-song kind of way, but I was singing along with a few of them (especially "Day Old Blues") the first time I played the CD. Aha Shake Heartbreak puts a big smile on my face that keeps coming back every time I play the album.

Packaging:
Normally, I'd make fun of a band for putting such a blatantly obvious sexual metaphor on the cover, but this is a mighty fine bit of cover art. Yeah, Georgia O'Keefe pretty much killed the whole "flower-as-vagina" symbolism decades before these guys were born, but the cover photo is interesting and beautiful and... well, it's sexy. The liner notes are clean and open, the lyrics are easy to read, and the use of color ties the whole package together. Hiding the photo of the band as children (Kings of Leon are three brothers and a cousin) beneath the CD tray was a nice touch.

Listen if you like: any straightforward yet completely unique rock band from the past 40 years, be it The Who, Lynyrd Skynyrd, or Modest Mouse.

If it were food, it'd be: A simple burger, grilled outdoors, with a secret spice that makes it wonderful.

Animal Collective: Sung Tongs

2008-06-27T09:00:00.000-04:00

Although rock music seems to find fewer and fewer outlets as metal and punk and hip-hop have all been subverted (or unsubverted as the case may be) by commercial interests, we are still firmly entrenched in the rock era with but a few glimpses of where we might go next. But a closer look (or listen) reveals a possibility. Post-rock (or post-anything for that matter) can be a catch-all term for anything that steps outside of the established confines of its genre, but there are a few bands that seem to be taking the lead in what will perhaps be the next thing. Animal Collective is one of those bands. The question is whether this is a new avenue for rock music or an altogether different genre. The structure is different, the instruments are different, but yet there's something...something very rock about it.

Music:
Odd, repetitive rhythms and an almost complete absence of hooks makes Sung Tongs a tough listen. Rock's vocal-guitar-bass-drums approach is no more present than its verse-chorus-verse songs structure. Animal Collective walks off into the future as they see it and they seem to do so with a childlike naivité. Whether this movement is the future or demise of rock music (or just a blip on the pop music radar) remains to be seen, but this particular album is a little too quiet to be the one.

Is this more than just random experimentation? I think so. Granted, they don't boil things down into three minute pop songs. Instead, these are serious mood pieces that work together more like a movie, just without the visuals. It is experimental without a doubt, but there is a point if you're willing to change how you listen.

Packaging:
Frankly, the package does nothing for me. It has kind of a Day of the Dead feel to it and I guess it's clever that they have happy faces, but the music requires too much effort to try to figure out the artwork as well.

Listen if you like: Sigur Ros, TV on the Radio, Brian Eno, Ornette Coleman, the future...

If it were food, it'd be: The food of the future. Not that pill that turned into a meal on the Jetsons, but a real meal that we just don't quite know about yet. Maybe they'll eventually serve it at McDonald's and maybe they won't.

De La Soul: 3 Feet High and Rising

2008-06-13T12:03:00.002-04:00

I have a lot of history with 3 Feet High and Rising. The first time I heard it was in 1989, when I was shaking off the shackles of the rotten hair metal that had bound me throughout my teen years. Since I'd never owned a rap album and this one was getting rave reviews, I decided to give it a shot. I played it once, hated it, and sold it.

Ten years later, a friend of mine played it in his car, and I was floored. I couldn't believe I'd hated it, because it was awesome! My friend bought me a copy for my birthday, I played it once, and then promptly filed it away on the shelf until I sold all of my CDs in a fit of post dot-com desperation.

Nearly 10 more years have gone by, and 3 Feet High and Rising has found its way into my ears once again. My life has taken some unexpected turns since I last heard De La Soul, and I'm glad to have the album back. I think the third time may be the charm. Indeed, three is the magic number.

Music:
The album's not perfect. The skits are annoying, the game show theme is stupid, and a few of the songs are weak. The rest of it, though? Wow. It's amazing. The fun stuff is genuinely fun, the serious stuff has some real depth, and there is an intelligence that is always present but never obnoxious.

I think what's most interesting about the album is how it shatters certain false perceptions about the late '80s. There seems to be some kind of cultural revisionist history that portrays a certain happiness and innocence during the Reagan and early Bush I years. Everyone wore day-glo colors and had funny hair, we listened to kitschy songs by new wave bands with silly names, and black people were simply modern Stepin Fetchits who hadn't yet corrupted white youth with the horrors of gangsta rap.

It's complete bullshit, of course. The '80s were marred by the threat of the Cold War and Reaganomics on a national level and the realities of AIDS and crack on the local level. White flight had peaked, well-paying blue-collar jobs were growing more scarce by the day, and countless communities throughout Baltimore (and every other major American city) had become ravaged by the one-two punch of crack and ass-backwards social policies.

What's interesting about 3 Feet High and Rising is that in between all the sexy things that "Jenifa Taught Me" and the positivity of the "D.A.I.S.Y. Age," there are some harsh statements about the realities of life in the worst parts of the worst cities in America. There is wisdom on this album, and it is just as meaningful today as it was 20 years ago.

(The EPFL version of this CD comes with a bonus CD that has B-sides and alternate versions and such.)

Packaging:
The packaging was too unique and identifiable. The culture of 1989 couldn't handle the contradictions of De La Soul, so they were pigeonholed as some kind of neo-hippie, peace-loving beatniks who were all style and no substance. It's not a flaw on the packaging as much as it's a flaw of our culture, but it still limited the group in a way they shouldn't have been limited. Of course, it also pushed them to do De La Soul Is Dead, so maybe the packaging should get an extra half-library-card for that.

Listen if you like: Hip-hop that thinks more than it postures.

If it were food, it'd be: A cold bottle of grape soda on a hot summer day in the city.

Neko Case: Blacklisted

2008-06-10T11:21:00.001-04:00

Without Neko Case's voice, Blacklisted would be better-than-average alt-country. With Case's voice, it is moody and haunting and exciting and dark and sexy and scary and powerful and invigorating and... well, just take a listen and add your own adjectives.

Music:
The musicians play together like old friends sitting around the living room in the wee hours of the morning, and Case's voice wraps everything together like a fireplace and a bottle of cider. Every time I listen, I find a new second-favorite song. ("Pretty Girls" is always my favorite, for it is the moment when everything and everyone on the record gel together perfectly.)

Packaging:
There's a beauty and desperation in the cover that accurately reflects the music. Case lies seductively on the pavement behind an old van filled with someone's possessions, highlighted in a bright flash that darkens the warm oranges of a cloudy sunset. The text that forms Case's name wraps off of the booklet, which is a really nice touch that you don't really notice until you're holding the booklet. The inside of the jacket is typical indie rock fare. There are no lyrics, which is a shame because I'd much rather read Case's words than look at trite mirror-images of old guitars.

Listen if you like: Jesse Sykes and the Sweet Hereafter, k.d. lang, Shelby Lynne, Wilco, The Sadies

If it were food, it'd be: That bottle of cider I mentioned a few paragraphs back.

Harry Belafonte: Belafonte Returns to Carnegie Hall

2008-05-30T10:33:00.001-04:00

As I learn more about calypso music, I dismissed Harry Belafonte as a lightweight whose greatest contributions was a whitewashed version of an old calypso song. But a wise man at Smithsonian Folkways suggested that I take another look at Belafonte, so I checked out Belafonte Returns to Carnegie Hall, the only Harry Belafonte recording available from the EPFL. My goal was not simply to listen, but also to learn more about the man.

Apparently, Harry Belafonte is the kind of man who makes people happy, but isn't afraid to take a stand for his beliefs. While there's not a lot of blatant evidence of that mindset on this live recording from 1960, it's not difficult to find proof of the man's integrity in this concert.

The most obvious thing that Belafonte does at this show is something that's easy to overlook: he gives up the stage to other artists. Whether it's "first lady of the folk song" Odetta, then-newcomer Miriam Makeba, the lighthearted Chad Mitchell Trio, or even his own backing band, nearly half of this Belafonte concert is handed over to other artists. It takes a courageous performer to shine the spotlight on other musicians, especially when those other musicians are talented enough to outshine the main artist.

This recording doesn't contain the aggression that I found so refreshing in Lord Invader's calypso, nor does it contain the overt politics of folk artists like Woody Guthrie or Pete Seeger. Belafonte was hardly a lightweight, though, and I was wrong to dismiss him as such. As for Belafonte Returns to Carnegie Hall, it's a fun and entertaining album by some very talented musicians, and it's a good reminder that sometimes we can accomplish more by giving up the spotlight than by hogging it.

Music:
This is light folk that branches into world music, gospel, and easy listening. There is a sense of playfulness throughout the album, and even when the songs get a bit serious, there's always a quip from the stage to bring everything back into the realm of fun. The album proves that Belafonte was an excellent entertainer, and it's hard to imagine any ghosts from that Carnegie Hall audience who don't still smile at the memory of this show. With that said, this isn't for people who are seeking "serious" folk and/or calypso.

Packaging:
Someone spilled water all over the liner notes, rendering them nearly unreadable. Fortunately, there are enough intact pages to convey a lot of information about this performance and these songs. Some more photos would have been nice, but all in all, this is a pretty good booklet.

Listen if you like: Kingston Trio, The Weavers, Odetta, Miriam Makeba, Harry Connick Jr.

If it were food, it'd be: a banana. It's light, it's healthy, it's got substance, and it gets even better when you add other things to it.

Josephine Baker: Breezin' Along

2008-05-27T10:07:00.000-04:00

This is a collection of English-language Josephine Baker recordings from the 1920s. As a historical artifact, it's interesting. As an introduction to Baker's voice, it's not bad. As pleasurable listening, it leaves me completely cold.

Music:
I'm sure this is great for people who love 1920s dance bands, but I'm not a fan of pop recordings from the '20s. I find most of the big band arrangements from this period to be just as contrived and soulless as any given Wednesday's American Idol. Baker saves these songs, though. Her voice is an oddly captivating study in contradictions: it's simultaneously girlish and womanly, innocent and sultry, playful and serious. If you can get past the recording quality and the run-of-the-mill arrangements, her voice is absolutely worth hearing. In fact, this album makes me realize that I absolutely need to track down some of her later French recordings.

Packaging: n/a (altered by EPFL)
The cover photo captures the innocence and seductiveness that lives in Baker's voice. Unfortunately, the rest of the package is missing. Why does the EPFL do this? They're a library, right? And aren't libraries supposed to respect the integrity of their catalog? It'd almost be like ripping a chapter out of the middle of a book because it takes up too much space on the shelf. (For what it's worth, I've been patronizing the EPFL since 2002, and this is my only complaint. Believe me, I like to complain, so I guess they're not doing all that bad. But still... STOP DESTROYING THE COVERS OF THE CDs ALREADY!!!)

Listen if you like: Vaudeville, Paul Whiteman, Lena Horne, Marlene Dietrich

If it were food, it'd be: Ginger snaps made by your grandmother. They're kind of quaint and bland on the surface, but if you pay close attention, you might notice the hint of a flavor that could only come from life experiences you never imagined your grandmother having.

Johnny Cash: American V: A Hundred Highways

2008-05-23T07:20:00.000-04:00

(This is my 100th review of a CD that's available from the Pratt Library in Baltimore. It's kind of fitting, then, that this review relates back to my first visit to Charm City.)

I still remember the first book I bought in Baltimore. It was a sunny summer afternoon in 2000, and we were waiting for an Orioles game to start at Camden Yards. We had a few hours, so we wandered over to the Inner Harbor. Of course, I didn't know the difference between the Pratt Library and Pratt Street at the time, but I was immediately smitten by the gentrified charms of the Barnes & Noble that sits in an old power plant on the water. I walked up to the second floor and, as light streamed in one of the giant windows, I saw a book titled Japanese Death Poems, which happened to be a collection of farewell poems written by ancient Japanese monks just before they died.

A Hundred Highways is Johnny Cash's death poem. It would be hard to imagine a better farewell from one of modern music's greatest artists.

Music:
This probably wouldn't get a five-library-card rating if it hadn't been Johnny Cash's last record, but it's a perfect way to close the circle of his musical career. Interestingly (and fittingly), this is the only album in the American series that is almost entirely rooted in country. Yeah, there's a Springsteen song on there, but Cash and producer Rick Rubin had the wisdom to see that "Further on Up the Road" is actually a mighty fine country song at its core. A few of the songs kind of fade into the background, but there's not a bad moment on the album.

Packaging:
The cover contains a photo of Johnny Cash singing. Otherwise, the liner notes are black, and contain only credits and a powerful eulogy by Rick Rubin.

Listen if you like: life, love, and/or death

If it were food, it'd be: A last meal

AFI: Decemberunderground

2008-05-20T10:09:00.002-04:00

A while back, I wrote a review where I compared My Chemical Romance to Mötley Crüe. If that's true, then AFI is the Dokken of the dark-and-scary punk/emo scene.

There's nothing wrong with Dokken, as long as you like '80s Southern California hair metal with tight pants and big guitar solos. Likewise, there's nothing wrong with AFI, as long as you like '00s Northern California goth punk with dyed hair and big angst.

If dyed hair and big angst aren't your thing, there's absolutely no reason to listen to Decemberunderground.

Music:
AFI may be emotional and they may be genuine, but nothing about Decemberunderground is unique. Every song follows a tried-and-true formula, a formula that exists solely to separate frustrated and angry teenagers from their hard-earned money. This is to punk what Saw IV is to horror movies: It's the cream of the crop of the lowest common denominator.

Packaging:
Oh, look. Bare trees. What a clever metaphor for the anger and loneliness that pervades these songs.

Clichés aside, the package is pretty awesome. The printing is absolutely gorgeous. Several of the photos were staged in a gallery and photographed (or they were Photoshopped by someone with some serious experience behind the mouse), which is a subtle but superb touch. The words are presented in a way that is legible but still creative, and reading the lyrics is a bit unsettling (in a way that compliments the music). Most of the band photos are pretty typical, but the photos of bassist Hunter Burgan are striking.

Listen if you like: Angels and Airwaves, Underoath, Taking Back Sunday, The Used

If it were food, it'd be: A burger from TGIFriday's. It's a commodity, not a creation.

Death Cab for Cutie: Plans

2008-05-16T10:21:00.002-04:00

It's hard to describe why I consider Death Cab for Cutie to be one of the greatest rock bands of the past decade, especially when I look at the strikes against them: Their musicianship is competent but hardly exciting, their attitude is whiny, and their unoffensive blend of indie rock and adult alternative is destined for the grocery stores and elevators of the future.

Despite all of that, though, their songs are like a late night with an old friend.

The thing that makes Death Cab a great band in my eyes are Ben Gibbard's lyrics. The man has a gift for words. He describes scenes and feelings in a way that lets his listeners layer their own experiences on top of the songs. I wouldn't necessarily describe his words as brilliant poetry, but they are absolutely lyrical, in the truest sense of the word.

Music:
Plans isn't quite as powerful as Death Cab's previous release, Transatlanticism, but it's close. This is an album that crosses borders. I know goth kids who love it, punk fans who love it, metalheads who love it, and Barry Manilow lovers who love it. Nearly every song could've been a radio hit, but there aren't as many musical risks as there were on the band's other records. There are so many strong lyrics on the album that I'm hard pressed to focus on one song, but the hospital waiting room in "What Sarah Said" is a great example of Gibbard's gift with words.

Packaging:
Not to over-analyze the jacket, but the band seems to be playing with the idea of tiny bits of light (life) shining through the darkness (death). Abstract lighted windows and buildings pepper the liner notes, and the whole thing is printed on a glossy black paper that reflects light back at the listener. The plain black tray card keeps with this theme, and not only reflects the ambient room light but also the listener's face and surroundings; again, it's another way that Death Cab lets the listener become part of the album. The lyrics are included, but the decision to print them in a middle grey makes them a bit difficult to read. Of course, if I'm correct about the theme of the package, printing them in a more legible way would have destroyed the aesthetics, so the band probably made the right decision to slightly favor form over function.

Listen if you like: This is one of the few bands I'd recommend to almost anyone. It may not be your thing, but if you give it a chance, you might find something special nestled inside of it.

If it were food, it'd be: A warm mug of cocoa with someone you love who probably won't be in your world much longer.

The Killers: Sawdust

2008-05-13T00:08:00.003-04:00

I felt sorry for The Killers when I listened to their third album, Sawdust. They had a wildly successful debut with Hot Fuss, but they got no love from "serious" music fans or critics. On Sam's Town, they tried to show how sophisticated and capital-m Mature they were, which left them somewhere between a second-rate Springsteen and a third-rate Queen. So when everything on Sawdust sounded like an attempt to recreate one of those two albums, I sighed a sad sigh and accepted the fact that The Killers were pretty much dead.

But then I read the liner notes, and I understood. These are songs that, for one reason or another, didn't make it onto either of the previous albums. These are the red-headed stepchildren. These are the remnants. Sawdust is, simply put, the sawdust.

Sawdust doesn't serve much purpose, but it does smell pretty good when you're sweeping it up off the floor. Sawdust doesn't serve much purpose either, but these songs sound pretty good for a bunch of rejects that were swept up off the recording studio floor.

Music:
This album is for fans. This is for people who love The Killers no matter what they do, and want more more MORE! Most of the songs aren't particularly noteworthy, and a few of them have some glaring flaws, but they're all perfectly listenable. There are a couple of tracks that stand out: the cover of Mel Tillis' "Ruby, Don't Take Your Love to Town" is a bit awkward but very enjoyable, and the alternate version of "Sam's Town" is better than the original.

Packaging:
I'm guessing the band had enough money to hire a real honest-to-God sculptor to create the log/arm on the cover, but something about the staging makes it look like cheesy Photoshop. The liner notes are generic, and contain nothing but basic song info, cute photos of the band, and a statement that "this album is dedicated to our fans." That's nice and all, but if The Killers really loved their fans, they wouldn't charge full price for a bunch of ~~rare~~ rejected songs.

Listen if you like: both of the previous Killers albums.

If it were food, it'd be: leftovers

David Sylvian: Everything and Nothing

2008-05-09T10:42:00.001-04:00

I could try to review Everything and Nothing as an objective listener, or I could review it as a fan. I'm an objective listener in that I've never heard this anthology and many of the hard-to-find songs on it, but I'm a biased fan in that I believe David Sylvian to be one of the greatest undiscovered musical treasures of the past 30 years.

I probably wouldn't be a Sylvian fan if I hadn't been forced to listen to his album Secrets of a Beehive over and over and over again when I worked in a Los Angeles record store in 1990. The first few times, I dismissed it as light jazz drivel; but the more I listened, the more depth and beauty I heard in the music.

Sylvian's lyrics are often cryptic but nearly always poetic, a trait that is easy to overlook with one or two casual listens. He is also an experimenter who, as this collection shows, is never satisfied to recreate his past accomplishments. He's worked with some of modern music's great innovators, including Robert Fripp, Marc Ribot, Ryuichi Sakamoto, Talvin Singh, and Hector Zazou.

Music:
This is an excellent overview of David Sylvian's catalog, especially since it includes some rarities like "Pop Song" (originally released only as a single) and "Buoy" (originally on Mick Karn's "Dreams of Reason Produce Monsters"). Any collection like this is going to irritate one or two fans because this or that song was left off, but one obvious omission was the song "Forbidden Colours," a collaboration with Sakamoto from the film Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence.

As good as this collection is, I'm not certain it's a great starting point for people who don't know David Sylvian's work. It touches on the different sounds Sylvian has explored, but its diversity prevents the listener from being immersed in a single mood. For new listeners with leanings towards experimental and progressive music (yeah, I'm talking to you, Mad Hatter), The First Day is an excellent introduction, while people who prefer acoustic instruments and strong lyrics might prefer Secrets of the Beehive.

Packaging:
Every David Sylvian package has fallen somewhere between very good and astounding, and this one is down towards the "very good" end of the scale. It's a simple package whose primary contents are details about each song (including who played the instruments, and where and when it was originally released) and photographs. As with the music, the photos span more than 20 years of Sylvian's career, and it's kind of neat to see how he's changed over the years.

Listen if you like: This is tricky, because it's the kind of music that could appeal to everyone and no one. King Crimson fans should give it a listen (for the experimental qualities), but so should Dylan fans (for the poetry) and Peter Murphy fans (for the voice). Bowie and Bryan Ferry fans might find something they like.

If it were food, it'd be: Dark chocolate. It's an acquired taste, but it's irresistibly delicious once you acquire the taste.

Fela Kuti: The Underground Spiritual Game

2008-05-07T10:00:00.001-04:00

I said this last time I reviewed a Fela Kuti album, and I'll say it again: If you love music and haven't heard Fela Kuti, you should check this out.

Fela Kuti isn't widely known, but he had an immense influence on pretty much every style of music created in the past few decades, be it jazz or funk or hip-hop or rock.

The Underground Spiritual Game is Fela Kuti as mixed by Chief Xcel from Blackalicious. Xcel obviously cares about Fela's music, and everything from the song selection to the sound quality makes it obvious that this album was a serious labor of love.

Music:
These aren't remixes in the sense that most of us think of the word "remix." There are no breakbeats or house vocals or James Brown samples. Instead, Chief Xcel picked a diverse set of Fela songs, pulled out the integral parts of each, and put them together in a continuous mix. It's a really neat way to hear Fela for a few reasons: First, the song selections are far more varied and obscure than they'd be for a best-of collection; second, the songs blend together in unexpected ways that highlight the similarities and differences of each track; third, Xcel must've worked some kind of sonic magic, because these recordings have a clarity that I've never heard in Fela's music. This is a good set for either seasoned Fela fans or for newbies who want to discover the richness of the man's music.

Packaging: n/a (altered by EPFL)
All that's left from the original package are the front and back covers and what might be the back of the jacket. The design is nice but ultimately forgettable. I wish the liner notes were here, because I'd love to know if Chief Xcel wrote about how and why he reworked these songs.

Listen if you like: Honestly, if you like any real music from the past 50 years, you should check this out. It doesn't really matter if you're a rock fan, a hip-hop fan, or a jazz fan because it was all influenced by Fela Kuti.

If it were food, it'd be: I've got to step outside of Baltimore for this one. There used to be a Nigerian restaurant in Oakland called the Museum Kitchen, where you could get all sorts of veggie and meaty foods. Like the mixture of Fela Kuti and Chief Xcel, it was a mixture of Nigeria and America. Alas, like Fela, it's no longer with us.

PJ Harvey: To Bring You My Love

2008-05-02T11:17:00.000-04:00

By the time To Bring You My Love came out, I'd begun to overcome my fear of PJ Harvey. Because of that, checking this one out from the EPFL isn't so much hearing a good album for the first time as it is rediscovering an old friend. And this album is a friend; granted, it's the kind of friend that is angry and scary and drinks too much and makes your loved ones wonder what you see in it, but it's still a friend.

Music:
This album is dark. It's dark in the way that Tom Waits and Nick Cave are dark. Sometimes it's dark in a punk way, sometimes it's dark in a bluesy way, and sometimes it's dark in an almost cabaret way. There's not a lot of joy here. Actually, that's not true, because there is a sense that Harvey enjoys being dark. She sounds like she enjoys both pushing her own boundaries and pushing other people's buttons. One or two of the songs aren't great, but most of them are incredibly strong. Some are creepy, some are dark and some are aggressive, but nearly all of them are powerful.

Packaging:
This cover is especially striking when it's compared to Rid of Me. A dressed and made-up Harvey lies in a pool of water on the cover as if she's dead. On the back of the jacket, she poses in the same gown and make-up. What's interesting is how out-of-place she looks. While I don't know the story behind these pictures, it almost appears as if the record label told her, "Polly, we let you do the ugly pictures on the last album, now you have to give us some diva shots." So she did, but she's so ill-suited to be a diva that these pictures are a giant "screw you" to an industry that says only pretty girls sell records. There's still very little in the way of content, but at least the jacket has some sense of design.

Listen if you like: Nick Cave, Tom Waits

If it were food, it'd be: A piece of fried chicken and a large black coffee at a hole-in-the-wall diner in the middle of the night on a long and tiring car ride through the South in the summertime.

PJ Harvey: Rid of Me

2008-04-29T12:11:00.001-04:00

When Rid of Me came out, I hated it. I liked my female vocalists to possess angelic voices that were sad and mopey. A dash of sexy didn't hurt, as long as there wasn't too much sexy. The sexy couldn't outweigh the sad, if you know what I'm saying.

Needless to say, Polly Harvey freaked me out back then. She didn't sound sad, and she certainly wasn't angelic. Honestly, her moaning and her groaning was kinda scary. She didn't weep about doomed relationships, she wailed about them. She didn't quietly celebrate her soft femininity, she raged about it. All the while, the band was way too busy kicking ass to waste time strumming guitars over pretty piano chords.

I've grown up a bit since then, so when I checked out Rid of Me from the EPFL, I was ready to tackle it with ears that weren't afraid of raw emotion. It's a good thing, because there's a lot of raw emotion on this album. Coupled with the raw production, it makes for a pretty raw album.

And that's good. The rawness here is the kind of rawness that the musical world needs. I wish there were more of this kind of rawness in music. It's the kind of thing that grabs you by the throat (or by the ears, I guess), shakes you, and says, "Hey, motherfucker, I'm alive and I'm feeling some shit, and you're gonna hear me out."

Music:
Rid of Me may not be as good as it's been made out to be over the years, but it's still pretty awesome. Steve Albini's production captures the band's raw energy without making them sound small or sloppy. The dynamics are excellent, and of all the quiet/loud/quiet bands that sprouted during the early '90s (including Nirvana), none of them captured musical extremes as well as PJ Harvey did on the song "Rid of Me." The album is somewhat repetitive, and they probably could've ditched tracks 2-5. The opening song is incredible, though, and the second half of the album is so unstoppable that I'm disappointed when it ends.

Packaging:
There's nothing pretty about the photos of Polly Harvey. I hated them 15 years ago, but I love them today. The lighting and shading are completely unflattering, and remind me of the American Apparel ad campaigns. (Why does a clothing company market their wares (wears?) in a way that is, at least in my opinion, completely unsexy? Obviously they understand something I don't, because I bet they make way more money with their "unsexy" ad campaigns than I make with my library blog. Anyway.) If the jacket contained more than song titles and credits -- or at least if they were presented in a remotely interesting way -- the packaging would've gotten a higher score.

Listen if you like: Nirvana, The Kills, The Pixies, Cat Power, Patti Smith

If it were food, it'd be: A shot of tequila, straight up with no lime or salt or any of that other nonsense that people do to ruin the sweet bite of tequila.

Spank Rock: YoYoYoYoYo

2008-04-25T10:08:00.001-04:00

I want to hate this album. It's stupid, it's misogynistic, it's ignorant, and it's arrogant. Spank Rock's (Naeem Juwan) lyrics are the typical, sex-obsessed drivel that always seems to pop up in pop music, regardless of whether it's from Little Richard or Lords of Acid.

I want to hate this album, and for the most part I do. But the music is really well-produced and really good. Producer XXXchange (Alex Epton) obviously appreciates many facets of dance music and hip-hop from the past few decades. There's more than a nod to Miami bass, but there's an equally large respect for innovators like DJ Shadow and Herbert.

There's absolutely no reason why Spank Rock couldn't become immensely popular. It's crap, but it's better than most of the crap that spills from the speakers of cheesy dance clubs and tricked-out Hondas throughout the country. The beats are good, the production is excellent, and the lyrics are as catchy as they are imbecilic. As stupid as the words are, however, they can't hide the fact that Juwan and/or Epton are relatively intelligent.

And hell, it's local. I suppose we have to stand by it to some degree. I mean, we take pride in the fact that our murder rate is higher than almost everyone else's (curse you, Detroit) and our politicians are among the most inept douchebags outside of DC. If we're willing to wear those badges of honor, surely we can dab some of Spank Rock's stupidly sexy perfume behind our ears before we go out dancing.

Music:
It's excellent for what it is, but what it is is a far cry from excellent. The music falls somewhere between 2 Live Crew, Isaac Hayes, DJ Shadow, Massive Attack, and The DFA. The lyrics fall somewhere between 2 Live Crew, Isaac Hayes, Missy Elliott, Ice-T, and the disease-ridden crotch of one of the girls working over on S. Carey.

Packaging:
It's gold and black, with big bold typefaces, scantily-clad women, and gold chains. Despite some strong design elements, it's a bit clichéd on its own, but it is absolutely perfect in context of the music. (Sleevage has an excellent write-up on the artwork.)

Listen if you like: Any of the groups mentioned above. If you're one of those idiotic kids who loves to shock his parents / neighbors / friends with raunchy music, this is right up your alley. If you have a deep appreciation for good dance music and a high tolerance for stupid lyrics, give it a shot.

If it were food, it'd be: An overpriced bottle of Cristal in the champagne room of Sherrie's. Oh, wait... do they have a champagne room at Sherrie's?

Various Artists: The Rough Guide to Calypso and Soca

2008-04-22T09:18:00.001-04:00

After reviewing Lord Invader's Calypso in New York, I was excited to dig deeper into the genre of Calypso. Not the party music that is played in beach-themed bars and Tim Burton movies, but the music that Lord Pretender calls "true true calypso."

Needless to say, I was a bit disappointed when Lord Pretender's "Never Ever Worry" sets the tone for an album that parties a lot and worries very little.

One reason Lord Invader was so exciting to me was his acknowledgment that sometimes we need to worry about things. As an American whose exposure to calypso has been limited to the feelgood escapism of island fantasies, I want to hear about the 11 months of the year when Trinidad & Tobago aren't celebrating Carnival. Do people work? Do they get into fights? Do their parents die? Do they run out of money and beat up their wives and abandon their children? Lord Invader sang about those things, but only a few of the artists on The Rough Guide to Calypso and Soca follow his lead.

But maybe that's the point of Pretender's statement, "wherever you turn, somebody suffering more than you." Maybe calypso, and the more modern offshoots of soca and rapso, are the way that Trinidadians deal with the harsh realities of their day-to-day lives. Maybe they cope with their worries by throwing a party. It's not such a bad thing to do.

Music:
This is fun music that will liven up a party. The songs blend into an optimistic sheen of background noise, but there are a few standouts: "Cyar Take Dat" by Brother Resistance (a key innovator in the style of music called rapso) is a dark and socially conscious track that seems heavily influenced by both roots reggae and dancehall; "Jouvert" by Hunter & Laventille Rhythm Section reminds me of Fela Kuti; and "Mud Madness" by 3 Canal is filled with the kind of excitement that can inspire people to go crazy in the streets.

Given that calypso seems to be a male-dominated genre, it's a shame that the three female-fronted tracks are the most generic and flawed songs on this collection. Sharlene Boodram's "Joe Le Taxi" is the kind of third-rate dance-pop that mediocre record labels try to foist upon unsuspecting listeners every summer. Square One's "Controller/Feelin De Vibes" is clearly influenced by house and dancehall, but it fails to capture the very things that make those genres so special. Singing Sandra's contribution is by far the best of the three, but "Voices from the Ghetto" is as melodramatic and overwrought as Kanye West's "Diamonds from Sierra Leone." Of course, being melodramatic and overwrought doesn't necessarily lessen the social statement, and sometimes the only way to get listeners to pay attention is to beat them over the head with your message.

Packaging:
One of the best things about compilations that come from labels like Smithsonian Folkways or Rounder is the care and knowledge that go into the liner notes. If the booklet in Calypso & Soca is typical of Rough Guide releases, I'm not going out of my way to get any more of them. There's a half-page overview of the musical genre, followed by a paragraph on each artist (all of which sound like they were written by a publicist rather than a music lover), followed by the name of the album from which each song came, followed by five pages of advertisements. I read the entire booklet, and I learned nothing of value.

Listen if you like: World music, island-themed parties, island-themed parties where people play world music.

If it were food, it'd be: rum and Coke at a Friday night party.

Lord Invader: Calypso in New York

2008-04-15T10:27:00.001-04:00

I thought I hated calypso. I've heard Harry Belafonte's "Day-O" and The Beach Boys' "Sloop John B." and John Denver's "Calypso," and I don't like any of them.

But now that I've heard Lord Invader (aka Rupert Grant), I realize that disliking calypso because of those songs would be like disliking rock because of "Yakety Yak."

Lord Invader was amazing. His music was powerful and political, literate and lyrical. His music was funny and sexy and spiritual and violent and sad and proud and... and it was alive.

All of this, and every song is a story. Some are fun and silly, others are dark and troubling, but they all make for fascinating listening.

There are a lot of similarities between Lord Invader and the best hip-hop from the past 25 years. First of all, there's the same sense of oneupmanship. The album is filled with Lord Invader's boasts of superiority: In "Ten Thousand to Bar Me One," Invader equates singing to stick-fighting, and he tells his rivals, "Duke of Iron must surrender, Houdini it is fire and slaughter ... tomorrow is blood in the gutter, I mean to commit manslaughter." It's violent imagery, and it's a powerful metaphor for his musical superiority.

Big egos and boasting cannot make a vital album, though, as any hip-hop fan can tell you. There has to be some substance. At various moments throughout Calypso in New York, Lord Invader is political, spiritual, social, commercial, sexual, comical, and even humble (Invader loses singing battles in "Sly Mongoose" and "My Intention is War," while "My Experience on the Reperbahn" portrays his surprise at a German whore with some unexpected... uh... parts).

Music:
The music on Calypso in New York is definitely calypso. There are lots of steel drums and Caribbean rhythms, but don't let that scare you away. This is much closer to early reggae and ska than it is to the whitewashed, sterile garbage that has been presented to American audiences for the past 50 years. Most of the music sounds festive and joyous on the surface, but a good amount of the subject matter is very serious. There are only a few songs on the disc that leave me completely cold, and they are grossly outweighed by the tracks that are filled with passion and fire.

One thing that is especially notable is the richness of the lyrics. "My Intention Is War" is a (presumably improvised) lyrical battle between Lord Invader and Mighty Dictator. Invader busts out with lines like, "Dictator, you insolent boobie, delirious mule, audacious slum monger you're out of rule ... you gabilous squabbler illiterate ape, now you are in a terrible scrape." At the end of the song, after Invader has lost (which I don't understand, because his opening verse is awesome), Dictator offers a gracious, "Now Invader, you too are really great, and my statement no one can adjudicate, put your hand in mine, let our friendship remain sublime." This is great stuff, both musically and lyrically.

Packaging:
It's pretty much a given that anything from Smithsonian Folkways will have fantastic liner notes, and this is no exception. Prior to checking this out from EPFL, I knew nothing about calypso. Now, I know the names of a handful of the genre's greatest artists, I have a high-level understanding of its history, and I've got a half-dozen CDs on order from Ebay. There are only two flaws in the packaging that I can spot: 1) Not enough photos, and 2) The song title "Auf Wiedersehen" is misspelled, but that may be how the song is copyrighted, so I think I can forgive them for the typo. Anyway, the song more than makes up for the typo with the line "Hear them jivin' meine lieber, das ist screamer, which mean that I'm a good love-maker."

Listen if you like: reggae, hip-hop, or folk music. It's a must-hear if you like steel drums.

If it were food, it'd be: A plate of curry chicken, a bowl of callaloo, some plantains, and a few sugar cookies. And a rum and Pepsi-Cola of course.

Sunset Rubdown: Shut Up I Am Dreaming

2008-04-11T09:31:00.003-04:00

Imagine spinning the crank on a jack-in-the-box. You listen to the creepy music and you wait... and wait... and wait for the release, but it just doesn't come. And you sit there, anxiously spinning and waiting and spinning and waiting. That's kind of what Shut Up I Am Dreaming is like.

Music:
There's a lot of tension on this album, but it's constrained within some decent pop songs that are almost memorable. The music is loose and sloppy and relatively simple, but it stays together well. Neither the music nor lyrics are particularly notable, and at times it sounds like the band is trying way too hard to be clever and quirky. The album is cohesive, though, and it comes together in a way that is disturbingly satisfying. (For you Baltimoreans out there, track 9 on the EPFL copy is dead, so be prepared if you decide to check this out.)

Packaging: n/a (Altered by EPFL)
EPFL cut up the original package to fit into a jewel box, so there's nothing here except the front and back covers. There are some interesting themes (bodies being thrown into bonfires, stabbings, and lone figures praying), but without the context of the rest of the package, the artwork is dull. (Of course, the artwork may also be dull even in context of the rest of the package.)

Listen if you like: Bowie and/or Tin Machine, TV on the Radio, Kurt Weill, Wolf Parade (Sunset Rubdown's main guy, Spencer Krug, is from Wolf Parade).

If it were food, it'd be: A tasty but uninspiring meal at a hip restaurant where you're having a first date with someone who is quirky and smart and unsettled and noisy and definitely off their meds.

Burning Spear: Man in the Hills / Dry and Heavy

2008-04-08T09:11:00.001-04:00

Reggae isn't really my thing, but I know that Burning Spear -- a.k.a. Winston Rodney -- is an artist who deserves to be heard. This CD contains two early Burning Spear albums, and it's easy to understand why they are both said to be great reggae records.

The opening track, "Man in the Hills," is about a family working together, each member doing what he or she can for the greater good. The overall mood is not one of exhaustion or complaints, but one of harmony and love and joy. As the albums progress, this harmonious hope is layered atop political awareness and pleas for peace among warring groups. There is an overarching sense of black pride, but it is inclusive and tolerant rather than exclusive and racist.

Frankly, as a citizen of Baltimore at a time when women routinely raise their children alone, parents cycle between addiction and incarceration, and young people identify with music that celebrates violence and hatred, Burning Spear's message is shocking. It's shocking to hear about a family working together in the name of love. It's shocking to hear a musician praise responsibility and community. It's shocking to hear a story about a dad who didn't leave the family to pursue his love for drugs or violence or good times. It's shocking to hear music that is hopeful and positive, yet still powerful and revolutionary.

Music:
Even if you don't love reggae, this is worth a listen. Yes, it can be monotonous to those of us who don't have a deep passion for reggae, but when I listen on headphones and pay attention to the words and music, each track takes on a life of its own. The performances are flawless, and the band has a great groove. Rodney's voice is smooth but powerful, and he brings a richness to the music that makes it clear why Burning Spear is considered to be one of the most important artists in the history of reggae.

Packaging:
The artwork and liner notes are very good. So many "two albums on one disc" packages include nothing more than the covers and track listings from the original albums, but that's not the case here. The original notes from Man in the Hills are included (notes for Dry and Heavy are absent, making me wonder whether or not any were included on the original release), as are full musician credits for each album. Best of all, there's a three-page essay that talks about the history of Burning Spear, the making of these two albums, and each of the songs. The color scheme, photos, and paper stock all contribute to a package that is almost perfect. The only thing that could have been better was the typeface for the essay, which is hard to read due to the small text and the brown-on-tan palette.

Listen if you like: Bob Marley and the Wailers, and you want to learn more about what reggae is about; music that is optimistic without being spineless; being black, or listening to music about being black.

If it were food, it'd be: a home-cooked meal with your family after a hard day of working together in a beautiful but imperfect world.

Various Artists: Nicky Siano's Legendary "The Gallery" The Original New York Disco 1973-1977

2008-04-04T09:26:00.001-04:00

Before it got screwed up by greedy record labels and clueless club owners, disco was actually pretty awesome. The music was about freedom and love, and the original disco DJs would play anything (as long as it was good, sounded strong through the speakers, and fit the mood of the dance floor). Rock, soul, jazz, gospel, blues, even world music... it was all fair game for the great disco DJs.

Nicky Siano was (and is) a great disco DJ. When you listen to the music he put together on this disc, it's obvious that Siano cares about connecting with his crowd. It's obvious that he uses music as a way to reach out to every single person in the room. It's obvious that he understands how music can make us feel alive. This music is powerful and exciting, it's filled with truth and tolerance, and it makes you want to stand up and celebrate.

Really, if you think you hate disco, try this out. Chances are, the only reason you hate disco is because you've never heard disco. Pick this CD up, put on some headphones or crank it up in the car, and give your body up to the music.

Music:
There's not a bad song on here. Future house diva Loleatta Holloway demonstrates that disco, at its finest, was music of love, spirit, and power. The Pointer Sisters were an exciting and unique band at one point in time, as "Yes We Can Can" proves. "Exuma, The Obeah Man" by Exuma sounds like The Rolling Stones' "Sympathy for the Devil" mixed with Ladysmith Black Mambazo. There are classic Motown artists like The Temptations and The Supremes and soul stalwarts like Bill Withers and The Isley Brothers. If the album doesn't make you at least tap your foot, you might want to check your pulse.

Packaging:
The booklet is as good as the liner notes in a Smithsonian Folkways CD, but it's way more fun. It's like a guided tour through the disco that no one knows, but everyone -- at least everyone who loves music -- should know. The pictures alone have a great historical value, but the "essays" from Siano and dance music historian Tim Lawrence are what makes this package shine. Again, if you think you don't like disco, give this a shot; at least you'll start to understand what it is that you think you hate.

Listen if you like: house, electronica, R&B, civil rights, gay rights, music that makes you want to get up and dance.

If it were food, it'd be: An organic fruit smoothie from one of the handful of post-disco parties that still happen today.

Pinback: Autumn of the Seraphs

2008-04-01T01:00:00.000-04:00

Sometimes an album is just good enough to make you realize it's not very good. Autumn of the Seraphs is one of those albums. Pinback has some genuinely interesting ideas, but they're mired in mediocre songwriting, weak lyrics, and bad production.

Autumn of the Seraphs reminds me of early Death Cab for Cutie. Sure, there were some good ideas on those first few Death Cab CDs, but they were mired in mediocre songwriting, weak lyrics, and bad production. Things clicked for DCfC somewhere around their third album. Pinback has already released more than three albums, but something tells me this is as "clicked" as they're going to get. It's a shame, because they come close to making some special music. They just never figure out how to get past the mediocrity and let the greatness shine.

Music:
Not to harp on Death Cab comparisons, but Pinback reminds me of a half-baked Postal Service. While Jimmy Tamborello's electronic layers bring a warmth and humanity to the Postal Service, Zach Smith and Rob Crow's synths and drum machines are as cold as the worst 80s new wave bands. It's not the kind of coldness that Kraftwerk or Depeche Mode mastered, for both of those bands succeeded in finding the hearts that lived within the machine; no, Pinback's music is cold in the way Human League was cold -- they're cold because they're not good enough to be anything else. The best thing I can say about Autumn of the Seraphs -- and it truly is a good thing -- is that the layers of instrumentation and vocals occasionally create some wonderful melodies and counter-melodies.

Packaging:
Like the music, the artwork is a one-dimensional portrayal of a scene that should have some depth. The cover art reminds me of Narnia, if it had been created by a writer who lacked the humanity to find the warmth hidden amidst its frigid landscapes.

Listen if you like: early Death Cab for Cutie, Matt Pond PA, slightly better-than-average indie rock. If you liked the jaggedness of the first few Police albums but find the warmth and soul of that band offputting, this should be right up your alley.

If it were food, it'd be: A processed milkshake from a fast-food joint.

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals: This Is Somewhere

2008-03-28T09:19:00.001-04:00

This is the kind of album that excites rock critics and college radio DJs and in-the-know music fans for two or three months, until the next album that excites rock critics and college radio DJs and in-the-know music fans comes along. This is the kind of album that keeps us occupied while we're waiting for something that blows our minds. And that's totally OK. This Is Somewhere is honest, it sounds heartfelt, and it's good. There are much worse ways to spend a few months than listening to this album.

Music:
The musicianship is competent, the songs are well-written, and the hooks almost get stuck in your head. The lyrics are occasionally thought-provoking and occasionally kind of generic. (For what it's worth, "Ah Mary" is one of the most clever, charming, and subtle political songs I've heard in a long time.) It's a good album that does its thing really well, but it doesn't break any new ground.

Packaging:
The cover photo is strong, and I'm annoyed that the good people at EPFL stuck a sticker right on top of it. The image is a little bit abstract, it shows the band without fully showing the band (I assume it's the band on the cover but I can't tell for certain, thanks to that annoying sticker), and it subconsciously conveys the band's roots-rock sound by using props like an old Chevy truck. The inside photos are simple portraits with a great deal of personality. It would've been nice if designer Lawrence Azerrad hadn't skipped class on the day his art school professors discussed how serif typefaces break up at very small sizes.

Listen if you like: Any rootsy American female singer from the past 40 years: Janis Joplin, Bonnie Raitt, Maria McKee, Melissa Etheridge, Sheryl Crow.

If it were food, it'd be: A bag of frozen strawberries on a cold March morning when you're desperately waiting for spring.

Josh Ritter: Golden Age of Radio

2008-03-25T10:21:00.001-04:00

There are lots of small moments in Golden Age of Radio that could be used to build a case for Josh Ritter's talent, but one subtle thing about the song "Harrisburg" speaks volumes.

As Ritter's story of a railroad car and a man named Romero builds, the tempo of the song gradually increases. The art of letting a song's tempo ebb and flow has been largely neglected during an era when drummers are judged by their abilities to record with click tracks and songs are so precisely structured that they could be graphed in Excel.

Ritter knows that good stories need to breathe, and one of the many ways he brings his songs to life is by letting them breathe.

Music:
Ritter has gotten better since this album came out, but this album is still better than what most musicians will ever record. Golden Age of Radio sounds as if Ritter had one foot confidently planted in his own style, while the other stood tentatively in the pool of his influences. ("You've Got the Moon" could end a mix CD that opens with "Pink Moon;" it's a pretty great compliment even if it does point out a lack of originality.) Unlike his more recent albums, Golden Age of Radio is pretty good with moments of greatness, rather than great with moments of pretty goodness.

As an aside, the tray card of the EPFL's version of Golden Age of Radio mentions a bonus disc. Unfortunately, there is no bonus disc to be found. Hey, EPFL... what's the deal?

Packaging:
It's a typical indie release: artsy snapshots, uninteresting fonts, and generic design. Fortunately, the designer(s) had the sense to layout the lyrics in simple columns with lots of white space. There's nothing terribly wrong with the package, but there's nothing special about it, either.

Listen if you like: Nick Drake, Ryan Adams, simple words that pack a punch.

If it were food, it'd be: a promising meal at a new restaurant where things aren't quite perfect yet.

Various Artists: Elizabethtown - Music from the Motion Picture

2008-03-21T00:14:00.000-04:00

As a collection of music, Elizabethtown stands tall. The lyrics generally deal with falling apart, picking up the pieces, and moving forward -- a theme that also plays a major role in the movie. Because of this, the music is tied together in a way that is uncommon in even the best soundtracks.

As a soundtrack, however, this CD is lacking. Some key songs from the movie are missing, and they're replaced by music that was buried in the film's background. (A second volume of soundtrack songs and a score were released, neither of which is currently available from EPFL.)

These facts make this album both a sub-par and superb soundtrack. A casual fan who wants to relive the movie will be disappointed, but this is a good record that honors the film's spirit. It's obvious that director Cameron Crowe -- a former Rolling Stone writer who is a music nut in his own right -- put a lot of thought and heart into choosing these songs.

Music:
While some songs are absent from the Elizabethtown soundtrack (notably The Temptations' "I Can't Get Next to You," Fleetwood Mac's "Big Love," and the live performance of "Freebird"), the CD focuses on others that I never noticed while watching the movie. "It'll All Work Out" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, "Don't I Hold You" by Wheat, "Hard Times" by eastmountainsouth, and "Shut Us Down" by Lindsey Buckingham are strong songs that deserve a serious listen or three.

Packaging:
The package is designed to look like the box of music that Claire (Kirsten Dunst) gives to Drew (Orlando Bloom). The theme fits, but the package lacks substance. With the exception of the inside-back cover (a quote by J. Bebe and R. Hammond, two members of the fictitious band Stillwater from Crowe's Almost Famous), the booklet doesn't contain anything worth reading or even looking at twice. Considering the importance Crowe places on the music in his films, this is a disappointing package.

Listen if you like: American roots rock like Tom Petty or Patty Griffin, Cameron Crowe movies, discovering that sometimes bad things happen in our lives so we can make room for what we really need.

If it were food, it'd be: a casserole your neighbor sends over after a loved one dies. It may not be what you want or what you were expecting, but when you're racked with grief because your whole world just fell apart, it fills you up the way few meals possibly could.

Danielson: Ships

2008-03-18T12:33:00.005-04:00

I'm glad Danielson exists, and I'm glad they're trying to push the limits of quirky underground music. It gives isolated, twenty-something indie fans something to feel smug about ("Who am I listening to on my iPod? Oh, it's a band you wouldn't know.") without forcing them to take on the challenges of truly difficult music like Mahavishnu Orchestra or Captain Beefheart. I only hope that either Daniel C. Smith's (the Daniel behind Danielson) talent catches up with his ambitions, or another group of musicians hears Ships and is inspired to do the same thing. But better. Much, much better.

Music:
The music is ambitious. The lyrics are intelligent and clever. The performers are a hipster's who's-who (Sufjan Stevens, members of Ladytron and Deerhoof, Steve Albini, etc). The performances are somewhat energetic. And the songs are boring. They sound as if Smith had a bunch of wacky ideas, but couldn't turn them into cohesive musical creations.

On a Baltimore note, "Bloodbook on the Halfshell" reminds me of how I felt the first time I stepped into the Book Thing. "These lovely bloody books, arms full of lovely books, freely collecting books, we're getting funny looks, while we are stacking organizing filing piling way up high and rising Dewey dusty decimalizing sorting tracking systemizing, can't believe we found this vintage, we now have such great advantage, great they'll look in our library." The song made me smile, but I was smiling because of my own life and my own memories. Without those, this song would have been as empty for me as the rest of the album.

Packaging:
The booklet is aesthetically beautiful. Unfortunately, it's functionally useless. On one side of the insert, the lyrics are printed down the length of the full six pages, which looks neat but is annoying to read. The other side is filled with words that end with "-ship," and is even more annoying to read. Perhaps the worst example of form over function is the album credits: the names of everyone who worked on the album are written in tiny and nearly illegible print along the masts of the sailboat on the cover. Smith obviously loves words, but his booklet doesn't give them the respect they deserve.

Listen if you like: Flaming Lips, Sufjan Stevens, quirky and overhyped underground rock that's big on presentation on short on substance.

If it were food, it'd be: Tomatoes from an urban community garden where flavorless vegetables are grown by hipsters in soil rich with smug self-righteousness.

Okkervil River: Black Sheep Boy

2008-03-14T00:00:00.000-04:00

I've known about Okkervil River for awhile, but until now, I've been unable to listen to them. It's not because I hate their politics, or because they were playing when my girlfriend dumped me, or because the singer kicked my dog. No, it's because... well, it's because their name looks like it should have umlauts in it. Something like Ökkervil Rïver, maybe.

Okkervil River is not the kind of band that puts unnecessary umlauts in their name. As far as I can tell, the singer doesn't wear assless leather chaps and they haven't written any songs with titles like "Stick It To Ya" or "Sweet Teezer."

Unfortunately, they've almost gone too far in the opposite direction. The songs are sweet and sad and smart and clever and charming and well-produced, just like a sensitive guy who wears black turtlenecks and quotes Dostoevsky at parties. Frankly, Okkervil River could benefit from feeling a breeze blow across their exposed butt cheeks. Okkervil River could maybe use an umlaut or two.

Music:
At its best, Black Sheep Boy sounds like Bright Eyes; at its worst, it sounds like Robert Smith doing a guest spot with Bright Eyes. Overall, the lyrics are well-written, and they possess a sense of rhythm and rhyme that most lyricists never achieve. Songwriter Will Sheff's intelligence and/or thesaurus occasionally cloud his better judgment, though, and he sneaks in words like abecedarian and oubliette -- something that will charm overwrought English Lit students and annoy the rest of us.

Packaging:
William Schaff and Darius Van Arman did a superb job on the artwork and design, respectively. The images are intriguing, and they're an important part of a comprehensive package. The text is easy to read, and the layout clearly conveys that these aren't just random words. From a practical perspective, the contrast between the text and the paper makes the booklet a bit difficult to read, but from an aesthetic perspective, it's obvious why Van Arman choose these colors. It was a wise decision not to clutter up the package with a bunch of band photos.

Listen if you like: Bright Eyes fans should definitely check this out, because it's playing the same game without being completely derivative.

If it were food, it'd be: A lonely beer late at night with tears of sweat trickling down its sides that reflect the streaks that bleed beneath your watery eyes as you realize she will never be here to share this lonely beer.

Jacqueline du Pré: A Lasting Impression

2008-03-11T00:32:00.000-04:00

I don't know much about classical music, but I can hear that cellist Jacqueline du Pré was different. She was kind of like Jimmy Page. She could play all the notes and make them sound pretty, but she understood that sometimes, when you were feeling the music in your blood and your bile and your sex and your soul, it didn't matter whether or not the notes all sounded pretty. She understood that sometimes, the notes are the least important part of music.

In my book, that means Jacqueline du Pré understood what it means to rock. And in my book, that makes her worth listening to.

Music:
The first track (Dvorák's "Cello Concerto in B minor") and the last track (Franck's "Sonata in A") are good starting points. The symphonic Dvorák piece is big and dark and dramatic, and du Pré's cello solo is fiery and passionate. The Franck piece is just her and her husband, pianist Daniel Barenboim. It sounds like a journey through a difficult relationship, and the performances make me wonder what went on in the private lives of these two very talented people.

Oh, and when you're listening to this, listen loud. Forget about that mentality that says classical music should be in the background of some hoity-toity bookstore or café. No, turn the volume up on this one, turn it as high as you can handle it, and immerse yourself in the music. Then and only then should you decide whether or not this is any good.

Packaging:
The liner notes prove that there was at least one completely incompetent graphic designer working at EMI in 1996. If you can get past the ugly colors, difficult typefaces, and useless layout, you'll be rewarded with a minuscule bit of substance.

Listen if you like: Jimmy Page, but are open-minded enough to appreciate something different; classical music, but aren't married to the notion that technical proficiency equates soul.

If it were food, it'd be: I used to eat at this fancy little restaurant in New York. The guy who ran it was a world-renowned chef, but he also happened to be a hard-drinking biker who would scare the living bejeezus out of anyone who mouthed off to his waitresses. du Pré's music reminds me of his food; it's beautiful, but its heart and soul and bicep are never afraid to make an unannounced appearance.

Various Artists: That's Why We're Marching - World War II and the American Folk Song Movement

2008-03-07T08:11:00.001-05:00

Good compilation albums tell a story. It's not a story that can be told by any single song on the compilation, but a story that recognizes each song as a vital part of something larger. Good compilation albums find a big truth within the voices of small songs.

That's Why We're Marching finds the big truth within 25 small songs. The individual songs might be about political hypocrisy, racial inequality, unions, war, or Fascism, but the big picture is about love. Each of these songs is about a powerful love for the poor people and the tortured people and the neglected people and the black people and the Russian people and the Jewish people and the people who worked in factories and the people who joined unions and the people who bought war bonds and the people who enlisted and the people who fought and the people who buried their children and the people who sacrificed their own lives in order to help save the lives of strangers who were being slaughtered on the other side of some mighty big oceans. These are songs of love for all of those people and countless others.

The songs on That's Why We're Marching might be about politics and race and war and fighting and dying and working. The album, though, is simply a collection of great love songs.

Music:
I can't imagine how this collection of songs could be any better. Everything on here is good, even the stuff that's kind of tough to get through. What might be the best song on the album isn't even a song, it's a story by Jimmy Longhi about being with Woody Guthrie and Cisco Houston on a ship that was under attack. When the story ends and "When the Yanks Go Marching In" begins, it is a joyous musical moment that literally gave me a chill.

Packaging:
Like virtually everything from Smithsonian Folkways, the booklet in That's Why We're Marching is superb. It's 28 pages long, with two columns of small print on each page. There's an extraordinary amount of detail, even by Smithsonian Folkways standards, and it's fascinating to read. There are a couple of minor typos and factual mistakes, though, and for a CD that acts as a historical document, errors like that can bring its credibility into question. In the EPFL's version, there is a hand-written correction on the first page of the booklet, which means that someone checked out the CD and cared enough to fix a mistake. That's the kind of thing that can only happen with CDs from the library, and that's the kind of thing that makes the EPFL so wonderful.

Listen if you like: folk artists like Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie, and Lead Belly; folk revivalists like Billy Bragg and Wilco; protest songs; love.

If it were food, it'd be: the kind of homemade stew that simmers on the stove all day long and contains pretty much everything that's leftover in the fridge and the pantry, and it tastes like all of those things but it tastes like something more... perhaps it tastes just a little bit like love.

The Velvet Underground: The Velvet Underground and Nico

2008-03-04T02:31:00.002-05:00

Admission #1: To the best of my knowledge, I have never heard a single song by The Velvet Underground. Until today.

Admission #2: When I checked out The Velvet Underground and Nico from the EPFL, I really wanted to trash it. I hate VU followers like The Pixies, and I think Lou Reed's "Walk on the Wild Side" is one of the lamest rock songs ever.

Admission #3: I think this album is amazing

You don't need me to rehash what's been said a thousand times about The Velvet Underground and Nico. Is it melodramatic and scarier-than-thou? Yes. Is it nihilistic and self-absorbed? Yes. Is it caught up in some ignorant and short-sighted viewpoints about life? Yes. Does it push boundaries? Absolutely. Do Lou Reed and Nico have annoying voices? Yes, but they're the right voices for the music. Is it difficult to listen to? At times, but in a good way. Is it unlike anything that came before it? No, but it changed everything that came after it.

Music:
The album possesses a timelessness that eluded most bands from the late '60s. Sure, a few of the songs are dated: "Run Run Run" sounds like a Stones throwaway, and the backup vocals in "There She Goes Again" are generic trippy drivel. As a whole, though, this could've been recorded at any point in the past four decades. I understand why it's received so much praise over the years.

My favorite moments are when the band sinks into an almost abstract sonic assault, like on "European Son." They weren't relying on mounds of guitar effects, impenetrable layers of electronic samples, or overdeveloped technical prowess to create a dense wall of noise; they were simply taking what they had and wrecking shop with it. Hearing this song makes me realize that I was correct in dismissing Boris as a bunch of wankers.

Packaging:
The cover, Banana by Andy Warhol, is pretty awesome, even if you're not a Warhol fan (which I'm not). It's simple, it's unique, it's eye-catching, it's immediately recognizable, and it's impossible to imitate. It has to be one of the greatest album covers in the history of rock. The inside of the CD jacket isn't nearly as impressive, though. Some of the photos are dark portraits of forboding characters staring at the camera, while others are dark portraits of forboding characters staring at the camera with cheesy lighting effects on their faces. It was probably cool at the time, but now it just looks corny.

Listen if you like: art rock, punk, indie, goth, noise, doom metal, experimental music, drug music, psych... really, I guess you should just listen if you like any rock music from the past 40 years.

If it were food, it'd be: A Twinkie. It's as fresh today as it was 40 years ago.

Mclusky: The Difference Between You and Me Is that I'm Not on Fire

2008-02-29T00:15:00.002-05:00

Based on the album title and the song title and the photos, I was expecting to be greeted by distorto guitars layered beneath some screaming emo singer who was distraught because his life in suburbia is, like, totally meaningless. What I got was something that sounds like the bastard child of John Lydon and Tom Morello.

And I love it.

Nothing here is amazing, but it all comes together to create something greater than its parts. The production is thin and spacious; there's no "wall of sound," but there is definitely a wall of energy. What the band lacks in chops and skill, they more than make up for with creativity and heart. (Don't get me wrong; they have chops, just not the kind they can show off by playing "Stairway to Heaven" in the local guitar shop.) There's something very dark happening in the music, but there's also an undeniable sense of fun. These guys sound as if they want, need, and love to make music together.

Wow. I just re-read that paragraph, and I realized that I wrote the recipe for a great rock album. The Difference Between You and Me Is that I'm Not on Fire may not be great, but it's certainly knocking at the door.

Music:
I don't know if it's the production, the performances, or the songwriting, but The Difference reminds me a bit of early P.J. Harvey. (Like Mclusky, P.J. Harvey has been produced by Steve Albini.) The music is sloppy and chaotic, but it moves like a freight train. On the first listen, I got a bit bored by the second half of the album, but it got better and better each time I played it. The weakest part of the album is probably the lyrics; they're either gibberish or genius, and they have the same kind of curious appeal as Soul Coughing's words.

Packaging:
The cover photo is striking, but other than establishing a black & white color scheme, I'm not certain how it relates to the album. Every photo in the booklet is strong in its own way, and they all fit the music well. The live photos of the group reflect performers who seem totally engaged with their music, and the silly photos manage to inject some lightness without making the band look like a bunch of clowns. The lyrics are fairly easy to read, although artist Victoria Collier could have bumped up the font-size without compromising the design.

Listen if you like: Public Image Ltd., P.J. Harvey, Flipper, Deftones, Rage Against the Machine

If it were food, it'd be: Wasabi. It surprises and hurts at first, but you're excited to get some more as soon as it fades away.

The New Pornographers: Twin Cinema

2008-02-26T08:13:00.002-05:00

Twin Cinema confuses me. The performances are energetic, the music is interesting, the lyrics are decent, and I find the album utterly boring.

Maybe it's the whole power-pop/indie-rock thing. I don't much care for Beatles and/or Kinks fans who wear their literary intellects and their love for smarmy '70s pop on their ironic sleeves.

Or maybe it's the fact that I've never liked a band on Matador Records. Not that I've heard their whole catalog or anything, but very few Matador bands do more than bore me. Yo La Tengo? More like No La Tengo. Cat Power? Sounds like Cat Pooper. Neko Case?

Well, now I'm confused again. Neko Case is one of the strongest singers I've heard in the past decade. It's as if her voice is in harmony with my very soul, and when she sings, my spirit vibrates. But not here. It doesn't matter whether she or A.C. Newman is singing; it leaves me completely cold.

I've listened and listened and listened to Twin Cinema. I actually started listening when it came out in 2005, but then I got bored and gave away my copy of the CD. So I tried listening again when I saw Twin Cinema at the EPFL, and I'm still bored. Maybe their name should be The New Borenographers.

Music:
Twin Cinema is filled with well-constructed songs that are played by reasonably talented musicians who work together to create some decent energy, but the music is about as exciting as a third-rate '80s arena rock band like 38 Special. It's missing that certain je ne sais qua that the greatest rock albums possess. The brightest point on the album is the refrain on "The Bleeding Heart Show," which sounds like a reworked version of "Life in a Northern Town" by The Dream Academy. I can't really fault Twin Cinema, but I would be lying if I called it anything more than mildly interesting.

Packaging:
The cover suffers from the same shortcomings as the music. It's good and it conveys a mood, but it doesn't matter. Pictures of vintage gear in run down rehearsal spaces are almost as clichéd as skull tattoos. The idea of using a portable screen for the album's credits was brilliant, but the execution is as uninspired as the rest of the package. The words should have been projected on the screen in each photo, not pasted on top by some hack who knows nothing about Photoshop except for how to center text. Sure, it would have been more difficult; it also would have been good.

Listen if you like: Indie rock/pop like Yo La Tengo or Pavement. I wouldn't even consider recommending this to Neko Case fans, as I think her performances here are a disservice to her talent.

If it were food, it'd be: The last few years I lived in New York, Belgian fries became popular with the cool kids. Twin Cinema reminds me of Belgian fries: no matter how fabulous the indie rock hipsters say they are, they make for a boring and unhealthy meal.

Israel Kamakawiwo'ole: Facing Future

2008-02-22T10:30:00.002-05:00

It's not often that I feel completely unqualified to review an album. My knowledge of Hawaiian music begins and ends with Don Ho, and to me, Facing Future mostly sounds like the kind of schmaltzy crap that you'd hear while buying low-fat piña colada yogurt at Santoni's. But I can hear something distinctly foreign in the music, something that doesn't meld with the dirty streets and cold, winter air of Baltimore. I can hear warmth, and sunlight, and calmness, and friendly people, and water. I can hear the smile of someone who makes peaceful music because he is peaceful, not because he is selling the commodity of Inner Peace™. I can hear joy.

But what do I know? I'm a guy who lives in a place where we kill each other over orange peels on the sidewalk. I'm a guy who lives in a place where the mayor rides around on a garbage truck but doesn't show up to rallies protesting the murder rate. I'm a guy who lives in a place where, when the snow melts, the alleys are filled with thawing rat corpses.

Guys like me, we're cynical about joyous music. If anybody wants to fly me and the EPFL's copy of Facing Future out to Hawaii for a few weeks, I'll give it a fresh listen, and I'll tell you how it sounds from Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's old stomping grounds. Until then, I think I'm going to put on something that sounds better against the police sirens and junkies who harmonize outside my bedroom window.

Music:
Unless you haven't seen any movies or been to any weddings in the past 10 years, you've probably heard Kamakawiwo'ole's version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow / What a Wonderful World." And that's good, because his take on those two songs is absolutely wonderful. Really, it's worth checking this out just for that track, and that track is the only reason this CD scores as high as it does. His version of "Take Me Home Country Road" is kind of fun, because he turns the song into an ode to Hawaii. "Hawaii '78" captures the thing I like best about Facing Future, though, which is that Kamakawiwo'ole sounds like a man who was delighted to be alive, despite the fact that life is far from perfect. That's a sentiment that us Baltimoreans could use a lot more of.

Packaging:
Israel Kamakawiwo'ole was a big man. I don't know if he was proud of it or just at peace with it, but he certainly didn't try to disguise it. The cover is refreshing in a world where entertainers are judged as much on how good they look in a bathing suit as they are on their talent. Other than that, there's nothing particularly special about the graphic design. Lyrics might've been nice, but if he was only going to include words to one song, his choice to include "Hawaii '78" was the right choice.

Listen if you like: World music, Hawaiian music, joyous music

If it were food, it'd be: something I don't think we get much of in Baltimore, like eating a fresh papaya as the sounds of a ukulele struggle against the roar of the ocean.

Cincinnati's University Singers: The Hand That Holds the Bread: Songs of Progress and Protest in the Gilded Age 1865-1893

2008-02-19T10:09:00.002-05:00

The title is so promising. American protest songs from the 19th century. This is the era of railroads and steel, the beginnings of the enormous migration that brought former slaves to the mid-Atlantic region so they could participate in the burgeoning industry of the Chesapeake. These are the seeds of Upton Sinclair's The Jungle and unionization and all the wonderful fights against the Corporate America that was joyously sucking our ancestors' lives dry in the name of making a few more bucks. This is the music that the workers sang while they were slowly dying in the hot sun, while they were struggling to feed their kids on a disgustingly low salary, while they were sitting around at night trying to figure out how to make their lives suck just a little bit less.

And this recording captures absolutely none of that.

These singers wouldn't know "folk" if it came up and broke their kneecaps. This is an insult to the music and to the people who sang it. This is everything that is wrong with high culture and academia. People get so isolated in their ivory towers that they forget what's really going on outside those sacred walls. Except for the liner notes, this is absolutely worthless.

This could have been an amazing recording. As it stands, it should be an embarrassment to every single person who was involved in making this album. Shame on you.

Music:
It pains me to give this a 1, but everyone can sing. A couple of voices even stand out as being strong. The problem is, they don't understand what they're singing, and no competent musician would let that happen. If they were trying to recreate the singing parties that happened in the parlors of people like JP Morgan and Johns Hopkins, they'd get a 5 out of 5. But they're trying to celebrate music of the working class, and they fail as badly as they possibly could.

Packaging:
The cover and design aren't special, but the liner notes are exceptional. It's worth checking out the CD just for the liner notes. Seriously. The information contained here is really interesting (albeit a bit dry). Just don't listen to the music.

Listen if you like: Choral interpretations of revisionist history.

If it were food, it'd be: Sent back to the kitchen with a nasty letter to the chef.

The Dresden Dolls: Yes, Virginia...

2008-02-15T08:19:00.001-05:00

I've heard great things about The Dresden Dolls. They're like a rock version of Kurt Weill. They're crazier than Tom Waits. They're better than sliced bread.

My expectations were high, and Yes, Virginia... almost lives up to them.

The Dresden Dolls is the duo of Amanda Palmer (piano/vocals) and Brian Viglione (drums). They make an incredible amount of noise for a two-piece, and their songwriting is edgy but sophisticated.

My biggest problem with Yes, Virginia... is the lyrics. Lines like "there are some school kids / yelling and running / I barely notice / that I am cumming," aren't good enough for either Penthouse Forum or a second-rate poetry magazine, but somehow they made it onto the album. It's a shame, because the loneliness and isolation of "First Orgasm" could've been incredibly moving with the right words.

At times, however, the lyrics shine. The suffering and denial in "Mrs. O" is captivating, and "Delilah" offers a sad picture of a girl who screws her way to the bottom. But the album's star is "Sing," a bright song that brought up an interesting dilemma for me.

I love swearing, but in lyrics, I believe it's most effective when no other words will suffice. When I first heard the closing refrain of "Sing" ("You motherfuckers, you'll sing someday"), I thought Palmer sounded like a 14-year-old who was trying to shock people. But after a few listens, I realized she was correct in her choice of words. She's angry because she loves the world and all the motherfuckers in it, and she wants us to sing -- for ourselves, for each other, for the good and the bad and the ugly and the stupid. And those of us who won't sing... well, she still wants us to sing, because we're the motherfuckers who need it most of all.

Music:
The Dresden Dolls have their own style. They don't always succeed, but they try something adventurous and, for the most part, they pull it off. At times, I do wish the songs were bigger. Palmer is a talented pianist, but her loud parts often sound as if she's simply banging on the keys instead of reaching into her piano and ripping out its innards. Fortunately, Viglione's drumming is strong and dynamic, and he adds power to the music without overshadowing its soul.

Packaging: (Altered by EPFL.)
The Dresden Dolls got a bunch of different artists to create pieces that were displayed in a destroyed theatre. I don't have a good enough eye to know what (if anything) was Photoshopped and what was set up in the old building, but it's all incredibly striking. The images remind me of a bizarre mix of Hiroshi Sugimoto's theatre photos and Urban Atrophy.

Listen if you like: Rock music that forces you to pay attention. To me, The Dresden Dolls sound like a mix of Rasputina's quirky chamber goth, Joe Jackson's Broadway-tinged new wave, and Sinead O'Connor's The Lion and the Cobra. Fans of Kurt Weill, Marlene Dietrich, and other German cabaret artists should give this a shot.

If it were food, it'd be: Soup. It's a weird soup, because it's got New England clam chowder and sauerkraut and even a bit of ratatouille in it, but it tastes pretty good. Yeah, sometimes you get a mouthful that's nasty, but don't be too quick to spit it out: if you roll it around on your tongue a bit, you might find that it's the best spoonful from the entire bowl.

The Sleepy Jackson: Lovers

2008-02-12T00:34:00.000-05:00

Some artists are all over the musical map. They take a bit from The Beatles and the Stones and Bowie and Prince and Robyn Hitchcock and the Flaming Lips and Uncle Tupelo, and they mix it all together with something special and unique that could only come from them.

The Sleepy Jackson is like that, but without the special and unique part.

The songs on Lovers are all over the place. Normally, diversity is an exciting thing, but this sounds as if the band decided to make one song that sounds like the Stones, and one song that sounds like old Bowie, and a couple of alt-country songs. This is kind of like musical name-dropping. The Sleepy Jackson makes up for its own lack of personality by telling you how many cool bands they know.

Music:
The sad and charming "Morning Bird" is the highlight of Lovers, even if it is a bit sappy. Otherwise, the production is thin, the performances are dull, and the writing is largely devoid of personality. "Come to This" is like a bad Dylan impersonation, "Miniskirt" is like a bad Uncle Tupelo impersonation, and "Fill Me with Apples" is like Bender from Futurama doing a bad Leonard Cohen impersonation. What's weird is the songs are all decent. It's like a musical cubic zirconia.

Packaging:
The cover is intriguing. There is a man holding some sort of fuzzy animal that desperately needs to be groomed, while a couple of sexy women hang on to him as they fade into a line drawing. The liner notes are nearly impossible to read; prioritizing form over function is fine if there's a visually compelling reason, but this has "mediocre graphic designer" written all over it. A guilt-ridden dedication to Michael takes a quarter of the space, and is heartfelt but ultimately pointless.

The worst thing, though, is the blurb on the tray card. Please remember that this recording and artwork are protected by copyright law. Since you don't own the copyright, it's not yours to distribute. Please don't use Internet services that yada yada yada, applicable laws provide blah blah blah, to find legal downloads visit the web site of a record company that is panicking in the face of change. Or something like that. Yes, stealing music is wrong, and if I believed for a moment that buying this CD directly supported The Sleepy Jackson rather than the expense account of some coke-sniffing A&R guy, I would fully endorse this statement. As it is, it's as derivative as everything else on the album.

Listen if you like: The Sleepy Jackson were 'inspired' by so many people, there's something here for everyone.

If it were food, it'd be: an ice cooler filled with generic soda, like "Mr. Peppy" and "Barker's Root Beer" and "Cola."

Moby: Play

2008-02-08T01:01:00.000-05:00

When Play came out in 1999, I gained a lot of respect for the way Moby dug into traditional American music and connected it to modern electronica. Of course, I didn't much care for traditional American music at the time, so I was bored silly by the actual album.

Boy, was I wrong.

Listening to it nine years later, with the sounds of Alan Lomax's Popular Songbook still ringing in my ears, I realize that Play is superb. (Several songs that Moby sampled for Play are included on Popular Songbook.) Moby reached back to a vital part of American history, and he brought forgotten songs to a modern audience. He made the music his own, while nourishing the roots from which it grew. And, best of all, he filled his album with heart, emotion, and passion.

Music:
Moby adds unique dancefloor production to the songs on Play without losing the essence of the original music. I never realized how stunning "Honey" was until I heard Bessie Jones' original a capella track, "Sometimes". On that song, as with most on the album, Moby took a great foundation and built something completely new. Not everything is about the past, though. "South Side" is unmistakably a late-'90s dance track, while the ambient/trip-hop leanings of the last seven songs are perfect for a car ride home late at night. If there's any flaw, it's that the last third of the CD doesn't seem to fit with the rest of the music.

Packaging:
I'm not sure if Moby did a good or bad thing by not writing about the songs he sampled for Play; he trusted us to hear the music and dig deeper, but he could have at least given us a starting point. Otherwise, the liner notes are unique and interesting. The booklet is filled with essays by and photos of Moby. I particularly like his closing comment that the essays and music aren't really related, and a person might like one while despising the other. It's a simple message that speaks of tolerance, and reminds us that the world is not polarized between "us" and "them."

Listen if you like: Fans of blues, folk, and/or gospel should absolutely give this a listen, if only to hear one interpretation of how old and new can be successfully married. The end of the album should appeal to fans of Massive Attack, Craig Armstrong, or Alpha, while the rest of the music is along the lines of Fatboy Slim or the Chemical Brothers.

If it were food, it'd be: Vegetarian chicken soup; a new take on a traditional recipe.

Alan Lomax: Popular Songbook

2008-02-05T00:17:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, an album is too good. We listen to what's there, because it is deep and it is vast and it teaches us things we want to learn. But after a while, we start thinking about all the stuff that isn't there. We begin looking at other albums with envy, and before long, we are shamelessly partaking in their delights. It's just a matter of time until we leave that first album behind with a sad smile and a sincere "thank you."

Popular Songbook is the kind of album we eventually leave behind. It is an exploration of 22 popular songs from the past few decades, and the traditional folk and blues songs from which they were born. It covers a variety of artists, from the Grateful Dead to Moby. Some of the songs here are obscure, while others have been recorded hundreds of times before.

After a month of digging into this record, though, my attention is wandering. Popular Songbook rarely gets to snuggle up in my warm CD player anymore. Now, I find myself digging up old Son House and Blind Willie Johnson recordings of "John the Revelator" and comparing them to the versions by Depeche Mode and Nick Cave.

Which, unfortunately, means I'm not listening to Popular Songbook. Even though it is wonderful, I want more than what it can offer.

Music:
It's a shame that Rounder Records couldn't include a second CD with the modern interpretations of these songs. Regardless, for people like me -- rock fans with an interest in other genres -- this album is brilliant. It was released in 2003, and it is influenced by the success of Moby's Play and the soundtrack to O Brother Where Art Thou?. Its scope is far greater than those two albums, though, and it presents early versions of songs like Eric Clapton's "Motherless Child" and The Beach Boys' "Sloop John B." Alas, for people who are already well-versed in traditional American music, this CD has little to offer.

Packaging:
Alan Lomax was a musicologist and an anthropologist who recorded thousands of songs by thousands of people. If the booklet contained only the introduction and the song notes, it would probably still deserve a 5. Lomax's introductory quote ("I'm sticking up for rock and roll because even though some of it is destructive and crude, it is essentially a creative American impulse. It's made by young people for young people. It's a rebellion against the Puritan ethic which has decreed from the beginning of our society that Americans are not allowed to have pleasure.") is wonderful, and the song notes are informative. But the meat of this package comes in Gideon D'Arcangelo's essay, "Alan Lomax and the Big Story of Song." After reading it, I understand that everyone who has loved a song in the past 75 years owes a little bit of thanks to Alan Lomax.

Listen if you like: Rock music (and I use the term to include virtually all styles of pop music of the past 50 years), and you want to learn more about its roots; folk and blues music, and you want to learn more about where it led.

If it were food, it'd be: baby food. It's the beginning of a wondrous journey.

Led Zeppelin: How the West Was Won

2008-02-01T09:28:00.000-05:00

Finally, Zeppelin fans don't have to rely on crappy bootleg recordings or the underwhelming The Song Remains the Same to get a sense of what it was like to see the band in concert. This is a stellar document of two 1972 concerts by one of the most amazing bands in the history of rock music. The recording quality is crystal clear, the performances are inspired, and the energy leaps out of the speakers. This is everything a live album should be.

Unfortunately, it is also -- at times -- self-indulgent, overblown, and downright dull.

The first disc is incredible. The band stretches out and rocks in a way that they never could on a studio album. They don't worry about playing note-for-note renditions of their songs; instead, they fill nearly every song with unexpected twists and turns that breathe new life into the music. Every track on disc one is a gem.

The second disc is where it starts to fall apart. Jimmy Page's interminable guitar wankery on "Dazed and Confused" goes on and on and on, which would be fine if he actually played something worth hearing. But he doesn't. He just noodles. And noodles some more. And then noodles some more. At least John Bonham's never-ending solo on "Moby Dick" is musical, even to those of us who don't play drums. Things get back on track with the third disc, but it never regains the full excitement of disc one.

Music:
There are moments on How the West Was Won where the band's ego overshadowed their immense talent, but the majority of the music here has an incredible amount of spirit, sex, and soul. It could've been cut down to two discs without alienating anybody but the most devoted fans, but at least there is finally a live album that is worthy of the Led Zeppelin name.

Packaging: n/a (Altered by EPFL)
All that's included on the EPFL's version is the front and back cover. Frankly, the front cover is a perfect example of why people should be required to get an operator's license prior to buying Photoshop.

Listen if you like: rock music.

If it were food, it'd be: salt. You won't die if you don't have it, but no kitchen should be without it.

Iron & Wine: Our Endless Numbered Days

2008-01-29T07:59:00.000-05:00

There are moments of greatness on Our Endless Numbered Days. The opening track, "On Your Wings," begins with a slide guitar that coils around whispery words. The feel is tense, and the minimal percussion only adds to the anxiety. The tension finally breaks near the end, and proves that you don't have to play loud to be loud.

Yes, there are moments of greatness on Our Endless Numbered Days, but they are overshadowed by plainness. Quietly disturbing pieces like "On Your Wings" alternate with singer/songwriter fare like "Naked As We Came," a happy-sad little ditty that is nice but absolutely unoriginal. The album's gentle touches are often lost in a pool of lite folk-rock drivel, and after a while, this collection begins to feel more like a bunch of endless numbered songs.

Music:
Our Endless Numbered Days is like Simon & Garfunkel with too much Garfunkel. At its best, this is a record with subtly beautiful songs that can fill the quiet moments of your life. At its worst, it is reminiscent of over-emotional wimpsters like James Taylor or David Gray. Of course, some people will like Iron & Wine for just that reason, and if you're one of those people, you should rush right over to the EPFL and check this out. God willing, I will never get stuck on a long car ride with you.

Packaging:
The design is very good, and the booklet is a perfect companion piece to the music. The cover art is simple, and reflects the songs well. The lyrics have lots of space, and although the size of the typeface is a bit too small, it is easy to read. The handwriting in the booklet is actual script, not some crappy font that attempts (and fails) to imitate the warmth of the written word. The paper stock has a nice texture, and the grain in the paper adds to the overall effect of the package.

Listen if you like: Crosby Stills and Nash, David Gray, Sufjan Stevens, Garfunkel and Simon

If it were food, it'd be: A warm loaf of freshly baked white bread.

Woody Guthrie: Woody Guthrie Sings Folk Songs with Leadbelly, Cisco Houston, Sonny Terry, Bess Hawes

2008-01-25T01:08:00.000-05:00

In honor of Lead Belly's birthday, I'm devoting this week's posts on Pratt Songs to his music. Today's review is a vinyl copy of Woody Guthrie Sings Folk Songs.... (You can get the same recording on CD from Smithsonian Folkways.) Last Tuesday's post was a review of the only Lead Belly recording in the EPFL catalog, a vinyl copy of Keep Your Hands Off Her. Hopefully, the good people over at Pratt will order some Lead Belly CDs soon!

Lead Belly only plays on one song on this album, but it's a great example of why he was so awesome. His rough voice on "We Shall Be Free" stands out in stark contrast against the other singers. All of the musicians are warm, but there's a rich earthiness in Lead Belly's voice that the other musicians don't possess. That quality makes this song shine in a way that nothing else on the album does.

That's not to say the other 13 tracks are bad. I've been in awe of Sonny Terry's harmonica playing since I first heard On My Journey: Paul Robeson's Independent Recordings. Cisco Houston's fine playing is all over the album, but his voice is mostly relegated to a supporting role. Bess Hawes has a lovely backup voice, and she is yet another of the many Smithsonian Folkways artists whose music I need to explore. Unfortunately, most of Woody Guthrie's performances here don't really grab me. The notable exceptions are "Hard Travelin'," "The Rising Sun Blues," and "Nine Hundred Miles," the latter of which has some great fiddle playing by Guthrie.

Music:
Take my rating lightly on this one, because my goal was to hear Lead Belly, not Woody Guthrie. With that said, I'm not entirely sure why this album is considered to be such a classic. Apparently, Guthrie and his friends recorded these songs in Moses Asch's studio in New York during the '40s, but Asch didn't release them on his Folkways label until 1962. That doesn't surprise me, because these sound like the kinds of songs that would sit on the shelf at the record label for a decade or two before getting released. The album is worth hearing, but it's not as inspired as some of Guthrie's other recordings.

And frankly, I wish there were more collaborations between Guthrie and Lead Belly. Their voices are completely different, yet they complement each other beautifully. There's a playful energy on "We Shall Be Free" that isn't on any of the other songs. I would've been really irritated if I'd bought this album based on the title, and then discovered that a more accurate name would've been Woody Guthrie sings Folk Song with Leadbelly.

Packaging:
Like many covers, the EPFL has gutted and repackaged this one. I normally kind of resent their efforts, but the fact that this album has remained in circulation for over 30 years proves they're doing something right. There's something wonderful about seeing the scrawls and stamps on the sleeve: "Spots, Side 1, Feb 20 1974, Officially Noted. Scratches, Both Sides, Officially Noted, Feb 24 1975." The original pocket for a check-out card is still stuck onto the sleeve, and some lazy clerk put a sticker with due dates right on the front cover about 10 years ago.

As for the actual packaging, the cover is a shadowy black & white photo that beautifully captures a certain aspect of Guthrie's music. An insert that came with the original album is taped to the back of the EPFL package, and it contains lyrics, an introduction by Pete Seeger, and sheet music for every song. Sheet music was an important source of entertainment for families before TV and the Internet, and it's easy to overlook the fact that Folkways Records adamantly encouraged their listeners to actively participate with the music instead of passively listening to it.

Listen if you like: Any of the artists on the album, classic folk music, Billy Bragg and Wilco's Mermaid Avenue albums.

If it were food, it'd be: A stew, the kind that contains lots of random stuff that was leftover in the fridge. Every once in a while you get one bite with the perfect mix of ingredients, but for the most part, it has a bit too much of this and not quite enough of that.

Lead Belly: Keep Your Hands Off Her

2008-01-22T09:23:00.000-05:00

In honor of Lead Belly's birthday, I'm devoting this week's posts on Pratt Songs to his music. Today, I reviewed the only Lead Belly recording in the EPFL catalog, a vinyl copy of Keep Your Hands Off Her. (You can buy the same songs on a CD titled Leadbelly Sings Folk Songs from Smithsonian Folkways.) On Friday, I'll review a vinyl copy of Woody Guthrie Sings Folksongs, which includes one song with Lead Belly. Hopefully, the good people over at Pratt will order some Lead Belly CDs soon!

I've known Lead Belly's name for years, but I never bothered to listen to his music. It didn't matter that nearly every great rock band -- from Led Zeppelin to Nirvana -- has praised Huddie Ledbetter (aka Lead Belly), I just never cared enough to listen. But then I checked out Classic Railroad Songs from Smithsonian Folkways from the EPFL. When I heard his recording of "Linin' Track," I was floored.

Lead Belly was amazing. I don't even know how to describe his voice, other than by saying it was real. It's not trained, it's not refined, and it's not pretty. It's hard and flawed, and it's completely compelling. Apparently, Lead Belly held audiences captive when he performed. When you hear his voice, it's easy to understand why; something about the man was magnetic.

Music:
There are probably better introductions to Lead Belly, but to my ears, Keep Your Hands Off Her is a perfect place to start. The a capella "Good-Good-Good (Talking, Preaching)" is one of the most delightful portrayals of heaven that I've ever heard, and "Linin' Track" proves there's far more to good rhythm than playing in perfect time to a metronome. "Corn Bread Rough" demonstrates his skill on the accordion, and if it doesn't make you want to get up and dance, you might want to check your pulse. "Stewball" and "The Blood Done Sign My Name (Ain't You Glad)" have been stuck in my brain with a tenacity that is usually reserved for cheesy pop songs like Hanson's "MMMBop."

It's worth noting that the EPFL's copy of this record sounds fine on speakers, but it's virtually unlistenable on headphones due to some kind of imbalance between the left and right channels. The $15 you'd spend on buying this CD from Smithsonian Folkways is absolutely worthwhile, though, and I highly recommend it.

Packaging:
I like this cover art a lot. It's a painting of a woman provocatively posed in a red dress, and it makes me want to listen to the album and see exactly who she is and why I need to keep my hands off her. Otherwise, the package is disappointing. There's no gatefold, and the inner sleeve is plain. There's a Woody Guthrie excerpt on the back, titled "Leadbelly is a hard name," that's interesting, but is far too short to provide any meaningful information. The cover of the CD release is just a black & white photo of Lead Belly. It's a good photo, but the late '50s / early '60s design of the vinyl release is more interesting to me. The CD includes the same essay by Guthrie.

Listen if you like: music that is memorable and catchy, performed by musicians who sing in a straightforward and honest way. But also, listen if you like bands who were directly influenced by Lead Belly, like Nirvana or Zeppelin.

If it were food, it'd be: flapjacks in heaven

Jem: Finally Woken

2008-01-18T10:25:00.000-05:00

The first four bars of Finally Woken shimmer with exciting possibilities. Then the beats kick in, and the excitement vanishes in a flash of lite dancefloor rhythms and basic boombastic basslines.

There's nothing wrong with Finally Woken, as long as you don't mind the wave of unassuming female vocalists who took the music of artists like Portishead and watered it down for bored housewives and doe-eyed college girls. The beats are good, the production is big and clear, the melodies are somewhat memorable, and the vocal performances are as impassioned as a trip to the mall for a sale at Abercrombie & Fitch.

Music:
Jem's music is perfectly listenable, but the same thing has been done dozens of times before. Her lyrics are peppered with predictability, and the lite-dance production hurts her. "Come on Closer" is typical of the album's failures: the juxtaposition of sweet lyrics over sinister music doesn't work, because there's nothing even remotely creepy about either her words or delivery. In fact, Jem sounds like a loving woman who is taking great satisfaction in making her partner very, very happy. Had the song been sung a capella, it could have inspired serious shivers of delight, but the arrangement makes it a forgettable album track on a record full of forgettable album tracks.

Packaging:
The artwork is just like the music: competent but dull. On the cover, an attractive young woman is lost in the throes of a really sad day. The photos inside the jacket are less melancholy, and portray Jem as a thoughtful lyricist (her carefully placed dictionary and blurry midriff prove her intelligent sensuality) with a free spirit (she peers out of the passenger side window as a rush of fresh air blows through her dark hair). The photos remind me of the two-dimensional girl I wanted to meet when I was a 16-year-old boy who didn't understand that women are real, honest-to-God human beings who laugh and cry and learn and love and sweat and stink and piss and shit and grow old and die. Nope, the girls I wanted to meet were the ones who lay in bed reading dictionaries and looking cute. Bah. What a bore.

Listen if you like: Dido, Imogen Heap, Beth Orton

If it were food, it'd be: A spicy and exciting meal that will be corrupted for the dull taste buds of mass-market consumers at family restaurants where the servers wear cheery suspenders and the walls are decorated with "antique" knick-knacks that were manufactured by child laborers in Malaysia.

Bruce Springsteen: Born to Run

2008-01-15T09:40:00.000-05:00

I don't know Bruce Springsteen. I never owned one of his albums, I never saw him in concert, and I certainly wasn't listening to him when I lost my virginity or left to see the big world beyond my parents' backyard. So when I saw Born to Run at the EPFL, I got a little excited. Finally, I was going to listen to a great Springsteen album from front to back. Finally, I was going to immerse myself in the musical world of working-class New Jersey. Finally, I was going to understand.

But I don't. I don't understand at all.

Springsteen himself is good. His voice is urgent, and his words are filled with the bitter longing that inspires young men's dreams and middle-aged men's crises.

The band, however, is kind of awful. I mean, they can all play their instruments, but they have no soul. Which is pretty rough, considering the music is mostly a rockified interpretation of classic soul. Clarence Clemens wouldn't know a tasteful sax solo if it came up and bit him. The Brecker brothers, those mercenaries of soulless '70s studio work, are as boring and predictable as ever. Roy Bittan's keyboard performances work reasonably well, as long as you like that overblown Billy Joel style of piano playing. Max Weinberg and Little Steven are the only people who keep the E Street Band from turning into a giant sinkhole.

Music:
The music is young and hopeful, in the way that only people who don't have much hope can be hopeful. The vocals are pretty awesome, even if (or maybe because) they border on melodramatic. The individual musicians leave a lot to be desired, but they can't destroy Springsteen's energy. "Meeting Across the River" is the best example of the album's interwoven strengths and weaknesses; the musical performances are terrible, but you can picture a young Bruce nervously riding through the Holland Tunnel and wondering what waits on the other side.

Packaging: n/a (Altered by EPFL)
The original cover is superb, but it's not included here. It was nice of someone at the EPFL to photocopy the front and back, so at least we have a track listing. The version that I checked out comes with two DVDs that I didn't watch. The booklet that accompanies the CD (it's behind the counter, so you have to ask for it) contains the original (boring) liner notes from the album plus a bunch of photos. Big whoop.

Listen if you like: R&B influenced rock like old J. Geils Band, dramatic classic rock like Billy Joel, melodramatic rock like Meat Loaf, or Springsteen-influenced rock like Marah. You may be like me and not care for Born to Run, but it's ridiculous that I've been a rock fan for so long and I've never heard the whole album. Learn from my mistake. Just listen.

If it were food, it'd be: There used to be a pizza place in Jersey that everyone always talked about. They had big slices for cheap, they were open late, and they always won lots of local awards. When I finally tried a slice, the pie was decent, but the crust was limp and the sauce was kind of bland. Its reputation was definitely better than its actual flavor.

The Killers: Sam's Town

2008-01-11T17:47:00.001-05:00

The Killers aimed for Bruce Springsteen and Queen on Sam's Town, but their arrows landed just this side of Meat Loaf.

There's a fine line between passion and melodrama. Springsteen owned his brand of working-class desperation before it became a rock stereotype, and Queen always sounded like a rock band whether they were playing arena anthems or operatic ballads. But it wasn't cheesy metaphors or layered harmonies that made The Boss and Queen so great; they were great in spite of those things. Like Meat Loaf, The Killers don't understand that.

Music:
When The Killers try to be Springsteen, their lyrical shallowness becomes obvious, and when they try to conjure Queen, their musicianship falls flat. The greatest moments on the album come when The Killers are just ripping into a simple, upbeat pop song. In other words, the greatest moments come when The Killers sound like The Killers.

Packaging:
Let's see. On the cover, we have an anonymous beauty queen whose inner ugliness is just begging to be set free, a run down trailer, and a big horn sheep. I imagine that fading beauty queens and crappy trailers are a dime a dozen in the lower-class squalor that radiates out from the Las Vegas strip (Vegas is The Killers' hometown), but the big horn sheep is the piece de resistance. When I think of Vegas desperation, the first thing that comes to mind is a big horn sheep. Not a meth lab or a pit bull or an old Monte Carlo with rusty, dented fenders, but a sheep. I actually feel kind of bad for Anton Corbijn, who had to take this ridiculous concept to fruition. His photos are gorgeous, but the context is pretty stupid.

Listen if you like: Remember when Duran Duran tried to be all serious and grown up on Notorious? If you liked that, you'll absolutely love this. Otherwise, this is good for fans of Interpol, Kaiser Chiefs, Hot Hot Heat, Metric, and all of the other new wave revivalists. Springsteen and Queen fans are better off checking out Marah and My Chemical Romance, respectively.

If it were food, it'd be: Campbell's condensed clam chowder. It's trying so hard to be serious that it almost loses it's simplistic appeal.

Brandi Carlile: The Story

2008-01-08T02:01:00.000-05:00

In Songbook, Nick Hornby writes about a moment in Rufus Wainwright's "One Man Guy" when God makes a little cameo in the song. He (as in Hornby, not the capital-h He) is not sure if He (as in God, not the capital-h Hornby) pays a visit because maybe He hears the music from afar and wants to listen in, or because He understands what they're trying to do and wants to give them a little help; whatever the reason, God is in the song for just a moment.

When Brandi Carlile sang "All of these lines across my face tell you the story of who I am" in the last verse of the title song from The Story, I'm pretty sure that the Big Guy was in the studio with her. And while T Bone Burnett's production of The Story is superb, that must've been a humbling moment for him; somehow, winning Grammys for O Brother, Where Art Thou? doesn't seem quite as impressive when compared against, say, creating the universe.

Music:
Brandi Carlile's first album made me wish that she and the Hanseroth twins (her musical partners in crime) would let go of their reservations and take some real musical risks. While The Story still doesn't fully deliver on their potential, it's a big step in right the direction. This is the kind of album that you can sit down and listen to from front to back, and when the last note of the hidden track fades away, you feel like you maybe know a tiny bit more about life than you did before you pressed play. And isn't that what great rock and encounters with God are all about?

Packaging: (Altered by EPFL.)
The cover is designed to look like the cover of a weathered photo album or scrapbook, and it's a fitting (albeit overused) theme. The photos abandon the teen-popstar feel of Carlile's debut, and instead portray a sensitive yet possibly troublesome group of characters. The booklet focuses on words, but the space is effectively broken up by small woodcuts, fonts that alternate between black and maroon, and different typefaces for each song title.

Listen if you like: Jeff Buckley, Concrete Blonde, Elton John, the music on Smithsonian Folkways but you wish it were performed by rock bands.

If it were food, it'd be: fresh baked biscuits and gravy. It's a simple and honest meal that is hard to perfect. You're never quite the same after your first plate of good biscuits and gravy.

Sly and Robbie: The Dub Revolutionaries: Sly & Robbie Meet The Mad Professor Featuring Dean Fraser

2008-01-04T09:05:00.001-05:00

There is only one thing keeping this from being an excellent dub album. It's not Mad Professor's production, which is full and thick and has none of the eardrum-shattering high end that is so often found on even the best dub records. It's not Sly's drumming, because this is some of his finest work in the past 30 years, and the decision to favor drums over drum machines was a wise one. It's not Robbie's bass, which is the epitome of sexy.

No, the only thing that drags down The Dub Revolutionaries is Dean Fraser's awful sax playing.

Now, that's not entirely fair. When Fraser plays as part of the band, like he does on "Finger on the Pulse," his decades of experience in the world of reggae shine like the sun. But as soon as his sax moves into the forefront, his lite-jazz noodling kills almost every bit of soul. (Almost. There is too much soul here for one man to kill it all.) The two songs he wrote, "Dean's Version" and "Dean's Mood," could be titled "David Sanborn's lame Version" and "Kenny G's even lamer Mood, if that's at all possible."

Music:
Why is it that mediocre musicians always want the solos? There's no bass solo on here, and Robbie Shakespeare has more spirit in two fingers than Dean Fraser has in his whole body. As producer, Mad Professor should've recognized the problem, but he didn't. Fortunately, most of the album is devoid of Fraser's wanking. And when the musicians (including Fraser) come together under Mad Professor's watchful ear, they bond like the blood the flows through our bodies.

Packaging:
The design is generic and the text is difficult to read, but the three pages of interviews and history are great. Without that, the package probably would have gotten a 2.

Listen if you like: Lee Scratch Perry, King Tubby, Massive Attack's No Protection

If it were food, it'd be: Fried plantains that are partially covered by the aspartame-laden glory of sugar free cherry Jell-O.

Harry Smith: Anthology of American Folk Music

2008-01-01T08:38:00.000-05:00

How in the world am I supposed to summarize six amazing CDs in one blog post?

Pretty much everything that has happened in American music is here in one form or another. If you're a musician or a history buff or an anthropologist, or if you simply love music, you should check this out from the EPFL. (Make sure you get the booklet from behind the desk, too.)

Checking it out won't be enough, though. I've already renewed it once, and I've barely scratched the surface. Don't check it out unless you've got 80 bucks to spare, because there's a good chance you'll end up wanting to buy it. And really, this is something that no serious music collection should be without.

It's amazing. Really. Trust me on this one.

Music:
The music on here has, directly or indirectly, influenced pretty much every modern musician. If Harry Smith hadn't put together this collection of mostly forgotten recordings and released it in 1955, pop music as we know it today would not exist. Period. That's how important this is. James Brown and Bob Dylan and Led Zeppelin and Johnny Cash and Tom Waits and Beck and pretty much everyone else would have all become bankers or shopkeepers or haberdashers or something.

Packaging:
Harry Smith's original notes summarized each song with a single sentence, which resulted in garish headlines like "Wife's Logic Fails to Explain Strange Bedfellow to Drunkard." The notes that accompany this 1997 CD reissue aren't quite as much fun, but they are as thick as a book and fascinating to read. Best of all, they list recent versions of each song in a number of genres, so you can really dig in and learn about every piece of music on here. Again, this isn't something that can be digested in the three weeks that the EPFL gives you. Don't check this out if you're not willing to take the risk that you'll want to buy it.

Listen if you like: music and/or people

If it were food, it'd be: Water. The source of all food, and all life.

The Pratt Songs Best of 2007

2007-12-27T18:21:00.000-05:00

It's time for a list. My favorite CDs from the Enoch Pratt Free Library, in no particular order. I only started this site in June, so I picked ten albums that stand out against the 50-something I've reviewed so far.

Of course, it's not that tough to figure out what I like and don't like, but being a bona fide music dork, I'm a sucker for a nice list.

Tim Hecker: Harmony in Ultraviolet -- Out of everything I've heard from the library's collection, I don't think there's any other album that I come back to more than this one. As I said in my original review, it's a tough listen that won't sit well with most people, but if you open up and give it a chance, you might be pleasantly surprised.

Classic Railroad Songs from Smithsonian Folkways -- There is a wealth of incredible music and history waiting out there, and I've just begun to discover it. This, like most albums from Smithsonian Folkways, is a must-hear for anyone who deeply cares about music.

Blackalicious: The Craft -- It's a great album, in every sense of the word. I've been listening to it since 2005, and I'm still not tired of it.

Josh Ritter: Hello Starling -- This little blog is actually teaching me to listen to music in a new way. Sure, a clever bassline that snakes through some self-loathing Britpop gem still gets my heart all a'flutter, but I notice simple songs with brilliant lyrics more than I used to. And lyrically, Josh Ritter is about as good as gets for this year's crop of EPFL checkouts.

Teitur: Stay Under the Stars -- I only gave this one a 3 out of 5, but the first song and his cover of "Great Balls of Fire" refuse to leave my mind. He found something dark and lonely in "Great Balls of Fire," something that most of us never knew was there.

Marah: 20,000 Streets Under the Sky -- It reminds me of why I started my other blog, and why it's such a shame that I've been neglecting it. It's one of the best albums I've ever heard about city life.

Brandi Carlile: Brandi Carlile -- I only gave her debut album 3.5 library cards, but I don't know if there's another artist I heard this year who has more potential than Brandi Carlile. I'm excited to watch and listen as her career unfolds.

My Chemical Romance: The Black Parade -- It's nice when a good but unexceptional band stretches themselves in all the right ways. I don't think anyone who heard MCR's previous albums could have predicted The Black Parade. It's an excellent album that proves these guys are far more talented than any of their peers.

Mika: Life in Cartoon Motion -- I understand that the album is pop fluff, but it's charming and infectuous pop fluff that's made from some substantial stuff. Mika seems to have a genuine talent and love for music.

Tanya Donnely: This Hungry Life -- "Little Wing" just might be the best song I heard all year.

Here are a few other year-end lists that you might want to check out:
Rock and Roll Meandering Nonsense
Layla's Classic Rock
Imagine Echoes
Bill and Dave from Rock of Ages

Eagles of Death Metal: Death by Sexy

2007-12-25T01:56:00.000-05:00

If I didn't know anything about Eagles of Death Metal (which I don't, since I have no Internet access as I write this*), I would guess they're from Texas. They've got that crazy energy that seems to be synonymous with so many Texan bands: The crazy, oversexed fun of ZZ Top; the crazy, anything-goes attitude of Butthole Surfers; and even a bit of the crazy joy of The Polyphonic Spree.

Okay, so EoDM sound nothing like The Polyphonic Spree, but there's more than a passing similarity to the rawer moments of ZZ Top. In fact, Death by Sexy is a nearly perfect blend of stoner rock and basic '70s rock.

If sex-filled fun isn't your bag, don't even bother with Death by Sexy. EoDM mostly stays on the fun side of sexy, and the band only occasionally wanders into moronic misogyny. It's refreshing that "I Gotta Feeling (Just Nineteen)" celebrates the joys of getting it on with a lovely young woman of legal getting-it-on age, instead of the typical underage girls who have fueled rock fantasies since its earliest days.

(* The first thing I did after getting my Internet connection back was to read about Eagles of Death Metal. Apparently, Josh Homme from Queens of the Stone Age is half the band, and he helped inspire vocalist Jesse Hughes to start EoDM. Hughes and Homme are both from Palm Desert, CA, which must have been founded by a bunch of Texan immigrants or something.)

Music:
If Death by Sexy had been cut down to 10 songs, it might have been a perfect rock album. "I Want You So Hard (Boy's Bad News)" pulled me right in, and I didn't come up for air until things slowed down a bit on the fourth and fifth songs. "Don't Speak (I Came to Make a Bang)" kicks in with all the authority of a perfect side-2-track-1, and the energy doesn't subside until the final howl of the psychobilly influenced "Chase the Devil." And that's where the album should've ended. The last three songs would've made excellent B-sides or online giveaways, but they don't stand up to the rest of the material on Death by Sexy.

Packaging:
Like the music, the design is lighthearted. A sense of humor pervades the entire booklet, but the words are incredibly annoying to read. It's a shame because Eagles of Death Metal knows how to thank people. (Thanks to James Brown? And England, and ODB, and Memphis, and The Donnas, and boogie pirates everywhere, and babygirls and honeybabies and sweet babies and honey girls and sweet lil' rock'n'rollas? That's how thank yous should be written!)

Listen if you like: It's a perfect blend of ZZ Top, Ted Nugent, and Queens of the Stone Age

If it were food, it'd be: A Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, but with Texas rock instead of peanut butter and stoner rock in place of the chocolate.