David Sylvian: Everything and Nothing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.