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 August 15, 2007 Catching Up I’ve often noted, here and on SoundStage!, that one of the great things about being a music journalist is that you get to hear a lot of great music. The downside is that you don’t always get to review it. Here’s a small sample of the great music I’ve heard in the last few months.
Joe Rathbone’s last disc, I Can Hear the Windows of Your Heart Breaking (2003), was full of impressively crafted pop, melodic and filled with hooks. Rathbone’s influences were easy to pick out -- Elvis Costello, Tom Petty, maybe a little Marshall Crenshaw -- but the results were unique enough to keep the songs from sounding like pale copies of any of these. With Under the Scorpio Moon, Rathbone comes fully into his own. "Angel," the opening track, is a stomping rocker, with gorgeously multitracked vocals and a wall of flailing guitars. "The World (never gonna be the same)" is a beautifully affecting midtempo ballad with a heartbreaking chorus, while the ballads "Beijing" and "Waiting for the Birds to Fly" are heartfelt without being sappy. Rathbone is aided by a number of skilled musicians here, but Tony Miracle, of the band Venus Hum, sets the tone with his treated keyboards, samples, and loops. Under the Scorpio Moon is more textured and busy than its predecessor, but the songwriting is never overshadowed. It’s probably time to stop comparing Rathbone to other artists. He’s developing his own, singular voice.
On this and his last disc, Chavez Ravine, Ry Cooder has taken it upon himself to revisit America’s recent past to try to pull some lessons from it. On My Name Is Buddy, he re-creates the music and politics of the 1930s and ’40s, when labor unions were gaining strength and working people were fighting the good fight. Cooder has created a narrative about a red cat named Buddy and his friends Left Mouse and the Reverend Tom Toad. Obviously, Cooder is as inspired by John Steinbeck as by the folk and blues musicians whose paths he’s followed. The songs he’s written tell the story of his heroes as they travel America during the Depression years. Cooder’s been here before -- he’s recorded such old protest songs as "How Can a Poor Man Stand Such Times and Live?" and "How Can You Keep on Moving (Unless You Migrate Too)." My Name Is Buddy doesn’t really consider the leftism of the 1930s in all its complexity -- some union organizers and activists were unapologetic Stalinists, for instance -- but Cooder does remind us that many people made great sacrifices to help workers get basic rights. And he does it with great musicians, including Fláco Jimenez, Mike and Pete Seeger, and Stefan Harris. It may take a couple of listens to get over the feeling that you’re studying musical history, but that passes quickly. My Name Is Buddy is great fun.
In the past few years, the Allman Brothers have released, on their own label, five performances from the band’s early days, and they’ve all been gems, including this most recent find. Although the song lineup for all the discs has been largely the same as the one on The Allman Brothers Band at Fillmore East, this band never played a song the same way twice. Even relatively short, tight arrangements, such as "Statesboro Blues" and "Trouble No More," contained fresh, exciting solos that varied significantly with each performance. On tunes where the band stretched out to epic length, guitarists Duane Allman and Dickie Betts always found new things to say, venturing into unfamiliar musical territory each time they approached songs they had played countless times. "You Don’t Love Me," "In Memory of Elizabeth Reed," and "Whipping Post" contain lines that are familiar to anyone who has committed Fillmore East to memory, but there are so many new and thrilling moments on all of these discs that even longtime fans will find themselves surprised at how consistently brilliant the ABB has been from the start. Duane Allman’s admirers can take solace from the fact that these performances have been found in the band’s archives and are now made available to us. The recordings were often made through the soundboard, and accordingly the sound quality can sometimes be rough going, but they’re cleaner than most bootlegs. Go to www.hittinthenote.com/cart/s-24-archival-cds.aspx for a list of available sets.
Tinariwen, formed in 1982 in Mali, is led by Ibrahim Ag Alhabib, whose story makes the average gangsta rapper’s sound like a charmed life. The members of Tinariwen are Touareg, a Berber ethnic group indigenous to the Sahara region in Africa. The Touareg have struggled for many years for independence for their traditional homeland, located in areas of Niger and Mali, and Ibrahim Ag Alhabib lost his family in the early 1960s, when the Malian army killed his father for supporting Touareg rebels. They then massacred the rest of his family and their livestock. Ibrahim Ag Alhabib and his grandmother escaped to Algeria, and young Ibrahim wandered the region, became apprenticed to a carpenter, and did some stints in jail. When he was a boy, he began playing music on a guitar he’d made himself. Over time, his skills as a guitarist improved and he met other musicians in the region, with whom he started a band. Aman Iman: Water Is Life is Tinariwen’s third disc, and while I’m tempted to say it isn’t like anything you’ve heard before, I don’t want to create the impression that Tinariwen’s music is difficult, or that you have to prepare yourself in order to understand it. The bandmembers cite Led Zeppelin and Santana among their influences, so it’s ironic that Tinariwen’s music contains echoes of older blues players, such as John Lee Hooker or, going back even further, Skip James. The songs follow a call-and-response format built on repetitive chords that seem to grow in complexity and emotional intensity. The lyrics are sung in Touareg, yet the conviction and spiritual depth of the music come through. Justin Adams, Robert Plant’s guitarist, produced Aman Iman: Water Is Life, and the sound is clear and pure. It’s one of the best discs I’ve heard this year.
Italian saxophonist Pietro Tonolo is joined here by three stalwart American players: pianist Gil Goldstein, bassist Steve Swallow, and drummer Paul Motian. Swallow and Motian have gained the right to coast after all their years of great music, but they don’t, not even for a moment. Goldstein is a sensitive, imaginative player with a mischievous streak -- he likes to throw in an occasional odd note or chord to throw things off balance. But this music needs the occasional curve ball to keep it from veering into smooth jazz -- Elton John’s tunes don’t really lend themselves to jazz interpretation, though these players try to give them some teeth. Tonolo sometimes approaches the songs with too much reverence. When he does pick apart a tune for new ideas, as he does with "Tiny Dancer," it makes you wish he’d do it more often. He has a warm tone and a pleasing attack, but he should have let himself take more advantage of the ideas presented by his sidemen. Some of the best moments are provided by Goldstein’s solos on accordion, which give a tune like "Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word" a distinctly European feel. Worth hearing for the three sidemen, and for the hints of things to come from Tonolo.
Organist Sam Yahel has played on albums by Norah Jones and Madeline Peyroux, and has recorded three previous discs as a leader. On Truth and Beauty (the title is from Keats) he’s joined by tenor saxophonist Joshua Redman and drummer Brian Blade, both of whom have played with him often. The chemistry and intuitive musical understanding among the three is immediately apparent, and it allows them to tackle difficult tunes, such as Ornette Coleman’s "Check Up," without showing any strain. Yahel’s own compositions are memorable and challenging, with a strong but unpredictable melodic flow. Blade is an exceptionally responsive drummer, with a solid feel for time and a subtle understanding of how to accent and underscore Redman and Yahel. Yahel avoids the soul-jazz clichés one associates with the Hammond B3 in much the way another innovative young organist, Gary Versace, does. That’s not to say that Yahel’s playing lacks exuberance or that he doesn’t swing -- he plays with a sense of joy and release, but he’s clearly looking for fresh ways to use the B3 in jazz, and his playing contains a constant sense of discovery. Redman’s playing is tough, smart, and full of feeling. He and Yahel blend well, trading great ideas and pushing each other along while offering firm support. Truth and beauty, indeed.
American Catapult is a Southern California band with two full-length CDs and two EPs to their credit. Their newest, Trees of Mystery, isn’t groundbreaking, but it does offer something that’s rare these days: straightforward, unadorned rock’n’roll. Drummer Shawn Winters hits the drums hard, and guitarists Tom Townsend and Mike Bock set the volume on their amps high enough to make sure the sound is overdriven and dirty. The vocals have a bit of country twang to them, so comparisons with Son Volt and other alt-country bands are probably inevitable, but American Catapult isn’t that predictable. Townsend, who writes most of the songs, likes unusual chord changes and ringing guitar chords that bring to mind the Rolling Stones and early R.E.M., but the guitars have their own bite. Trees of Mystery has plenty of hooks, and it’s loose and danceable. The mix could be a lot cleaner, and the opening of "Avarice" sounds like an amateur recording, but I kept hitting Repeat for most of this album’s tracks. If these guys were about ten years younger, they’d be the next big thing. …Joseph Taylor
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Joe Rathbone: Under the Scorpio
Moon
Ry Cooder: My Name Is Buddy
The Allman Brothers Band: Boston
Common 8-17-71
Tinariwen: Aman Iman: Water Is
Life
Pietro Tonolo: Your Songs: The
Music of Elton John
Sam Yahel Trio: Truth and
Beauty
American Catapult: Trees of
Mystery