Thus Continues the Top 25 for 2010 Countdown! (with No. 19)

Welcome to the top 25 for 2010 Countdown! Each day we'll countdown, today we continue with number 19, culminating with our (okay, my) numero uno album of the year. When they're handy I'll borrow my earlier reviews from the KC Free Press, as I have in this case. In the event one of my top 25 selections isn't something I've reviewed previously I'll dash off a new review.

I welcome all comments, criticisms, questions and dialog in general.

25. Jon Langford - Old Devils (Bloodshot)
24. Vaselines - Sex with an X (Sub Pop)
23. Drive-By Truckers - The Big To-Do (ATO)
22. Magnetic Fields - Realism (Nonesuch)
21. Dum Dum Girls - I Will Be (Sub Pop)
20. Peter Case - Wig! (Yep Roc)

19. Bettye Lavette - Interpretations: The British Rock Songbook (Anti-Epitaph)

 "Pasty Faced Brit-rockers get taken to Soul School"

Bettye Lavette deserves a brief biological account, but it’s been done so much over the past five years of her resurgent, renewed career that I’ll spare you all but the broadest outline. For a more thorough grounding, go to http://www.bettyelavette.com/biography.html and get caught up.

Lavette’s is the story of a brilliant singer who was more often than not in the wrong place at the wrong time, who soldiered on despite a lack of chart action or record deals, and who has now made the most of her opportunities (this is her third release on Anti-Epitaph).

Beloved by a handful of record collecting soul and funk freaks, Bettye Lavette never had a breakthrough hit or sustained success, despite recording several choice sides in the Sixties and Seventies. Lavette had an aborted tenure with Atlantic Records (a label that should have found a home for her). For Atlantic, she recorded an album with the Muscles Shoals crew at Fame studios that sat on the shelf for almost 30 years. After that, she recorded less frequently, enjoying one disco era club hit “Doin’ the Best That I Can.” She kept working, though, never leaving the rhythm n’blues clubs that gave her a living, and working on Broadway for six years alongside the great Cab Calloway in Bubbling Brown Sugar. It was the release in 2000, by French fan Gilles Petard, of those long shelved Atlantic sessions under the title of Souvenirs (originally slated as Child of the Seventies) that helped jump-start her recording career.

A brief listen to her scattered discography makes one thing clear. Lavette was a classic song stylist trapped in a raspy soul-stirrer’s voice. She treated the contemporary musical landscape much as Frank Sinatra or Sarah Vaughan did in their prime; she didn’t care where a song came from or even if it initially spoke to her. Her interest was transformative. Songs were for her to own, not just to interpret. But by the Seventies, Lavette found herself in a singer-songwriter obsessed climate that valued, whether it was Joni Mitchell or Stevie Wonder, apparently autobiographical, even confessional qualities and made small allowance for the interpreter. You know, wrong place, wrong time.

Upon signing with Anti Records (an Epitaph Records imprint), label head Andy Kaulkin paired Lavette with producer Joe Henry. Henry had produced an ace set for Solomon Burke called Don’t You Give Up on Me that concentrated on songs from contemporary singer-songwriters. His approach with Lavette was similar, and similarly winning. Her sometime radical re-interpretations of songs by John Hiatt, Joan Armatrading, Lucinda Williams and Dolly Parton (among others) introduced Lavette to a new generation of fans. Kaulkin’s next idea, to combine Lavette with Patterson Hood (his dad is Roger Hood, Muscle Shoals bassist and a contributor to Lavette’s long lost Atlantic sessions) and his band the Drive-by Truckers, was even better.

The aptly titled Scene of the Crime brought Lavette back to Fame studio, this time with a hard rocking Southern band. She fell right into the Truckers’ swampy hybrid of the Rolling Stones, Crazy Horse and Southern soul. The fiery Scene of the Crime’s emotional peak was “Before the Money Came (The Battle of Bettye Lavette)” - proof that Lavette could step to the plate as a writer - a scarred, soar, but defiantly triumphant testimony to her power and resilience. It was the kind of searing soul that you almost thought no one made anymore.

Interpretations: The British Rock Songbook sounds like a dubious proposition at first. The catalyst for these sessions was her wrenching take on the Who’s “Love Reign O’er Me,” first delivered at the Kennedy Center Honors 2008 segment devoted to the Who. If you’ve ever seen this performance you were knocked or you’re dead. YouTube this sucker — you can see Daltrey’s and Townshend’s jaws drop as she puts new life into their Quadrophenia warhorse.

Interpretations doesn’t work at every turn. When Lavette sings “sometimes I’m so carefree” in “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood (here associated with the Animals, but I bet Lavette may be as familiar with Nina Simone’s take) it’s not believable, and the uplift in the chorus when Burdon sings is missing. “Isn’t It a Pity” is drenched in soul, but lacks the centered grace of the George Harrison original.

Lavette’s soul-stew, method actor’s approach to singing really scores on several of these songs. The depths she reveals in Zeppelin’s “All My Love” make Robert Plant sound like a crooning bobby soxer. Lavette’s transformation of the soulful, but youthful, trippy sentiments of Traffic’s “No Time to Live” makes them sound like the last words of Ray Charles. Thinking of her old friends Marvin Gaye and David Ruffin, Lavette transforms Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” (a forlorn missive to a mind-gone Syd Barrett) into an even deeper message to the dearly departed.

Producer, arranger, multi-instrumentalist Rob Mathes keeps it real and soulful, but amuses himself and astute listeners with subtle references. “Wish You Were Here” quotes cleverly from Warren Zevon’s “Desperadoes Under the Eaves” and the version here of Ringo Starr’s “It Don’t Come Easy” borrows the opening feel of the Allman’s “Midnight Rider.” The whole cast of accompanists is stellar, but Charley Drayton on drums stands out. He gives these songs everything they need, appreciating that sometimes they don’t need much.

Lavette’s swampy-pop take on Ringo is another highlight of this set. She covers Paul and John too; McCartney’s “Maybe I’m Amazed” is spot-on and among the more straight-ahead renditions on Interpretations. The album kicks off with her transportation of John Lennon’s “The Word” to a land of funk located in the exact geographic point between Memphis and New Orleans. It’s tempting to compare her to Tina Turner on cuts like this, but it’s been a long time since Tina has been this invested or this good. Lavette recalls Ray Charles sometimes and Etta James, but her comfort zone with material is a lot bigger than Etta’s.

Lavette’s genius is clear on her blindingly confident version of the Stones’ “Salt of the Earth.” She manages to strip the song of its detached ironies while retaining the distance central to the bridge by re-imagining the masses (“they don’t look real to me; in fact, they look so strange”) as the absurd, condescending version of working class reality depicted in ‘Reality’ television (yes, she changes the line “strange beauty shows” to “reality shows”). Lavette also updates references like the one from polio to HIV. By the end of this performance she owns the song.

And that’s what great interpreters do. They make a song their own. The reservoirs of guts, smarts and soul that it takes to do this successfully is partly responsible for the diminished number of singers who are good at it, compared to the pre-rock, pre singer-songwriter eras that routinely coupled great composers with able singers. Lavette is in a class of her own. She’s a great soul singer, and more – she’s more of an artist than ninety-nine percent of the deluded knuckleheads who insist of writing all of their own bad material.

The song that started this set in motion is included here in its original live version from the Kennedy Center Honors. “Love Reign O’er Me” still blows you away. The utter confidence, investment and authority she brings to this song are staggering. And if Interpretations doesn’t succeed at every turn, it’s deep, soulful and brilliant enough to make another fine chapter in Bettye Lavette's emerging success story.

Reverberating: 8.5 (original), upgraded to 8.7

Thus Continues the Top 25 for 2010 Countdown! (with No. 20)

Welcome to the top 25 for 2010 Countdown! Each day we'll countdown, today we continue with number 20, culminating with our (okay, my) numero uno album of the year. When they're handy I'll borrow my earlier reviews from the KC Free Press, as I have in this case. In the event one of my top 25 selections isn't something I've reviewed previously I'll dash off a new review.

I welcome all comments, criticisms, questions and dialog in general.

25. Jon Langford - Old Devils (Bloodshot)
24. Vaselines - Sex with an X (Sub Pop)
23. Drive-By Truckers - The Big To-Do (ATO)
22. Magnetic Fields - Realism (Nonesuch)
21. Dum Dum Girls - I Will Be (Sub Pop) 

20. Peter Case - Wig! (Yep Roc)

“Blues-rockin’ session from a (still) underrated talent"

Peter Case has been there and done that. His deep catalog has constructed a sturdy cult audience and inspired recognition among his peers. In the Plimsouls he rocked hard and flirted with pop stardom. As a soloist he’s gravitated to folk and blues derived material that puts him in the company of Steve Earle and Lucinda Williams. 

Of course, unless you’re a superstar, being a musician typically means that you live on the margins, often without such amenities as health insurance. After heart surgery last year many of his musical friends and fans came to his aid. Wig, his first album since the illness, is the sound of a relieved man intent on blowing out the cobs. Recent Case releases, while still chock-a-block with fine tunes and exquisite performances, found the artist in a bit of an Americana rut. For someone who once powered the Plimsouls through songs like “A Million Miles Away” it was easy for the more rock inclined fan to ask: where’s the energy, Pete?

Well, here it is. The songs on Wig are all built on blues idioms. Don’t look for the melodic nuance that went into material like “Entella Hotel” or “Moves Me Deeply.” But Wig gives Case the chance to blast through some joint rockin’ originals (plus a Leadbelly cover), all of them approached with a raw urgency somewhere between Dylan’s blues-based material and R.L. Burnside. 

Case is ably supported on drum by X’s D.J. Bonebrake and Ron Franklin on lead and slide guitar. Bonebrake has always played with ferocity that combines swing and precision, both of which he brings in spades to Wig. Ron Franklin, whose excellent, self-titled, second album sounded like Buddy Holly with the Memphis blues again, is perfectly in tune with this repertoire.

Case is in fine voice. He’s one of the few rock singers to reference both John Lennon’s loving and lacerating sides and do so with distinction. You can hear it on “Ain’t Got No Dough,” which amusingly, affectionately and appropriately borrows the piano part from Barrett Strong’s “Money” (famously covered by the Beatles).“New Old Blue Car” re-energizes a fine track from Case’s very first solo recording. 

“The Words in Red” features some “You Want to Be a Rock and Roll Star” twelve-string, reconciling Byrds/Searchers jangle with a gospel-folk theme. “House Rent Party” tackles the traditional poor man’s blues theme acoustically while its electric cousin “House Rent Jump” rocks hard, both cuts built on John Lee Hooker’s “House Rent Boogie” theme.

Played for pleasure, deeply felt, and drawn from experience, Wig is the sound of a veteran having a gas of a time with two musical brothers. When the blues is rocked this hard it never gets old. Peter Case makes a great case for everything old being new again on Wig.

Reverberating: 8.4 (original), upgraded to 8.7

Thus Continues the Top 25 for 2010 Countdown (with No. 21)

Welcome to the top 25 for 2010 Countdown! Each day we'll countdown, today we continue with number 21, culminating with our (okay, my) numero uno album of the year. When they're handy I'll borrow my earlier reviews from the KC Free Press, as I have in this case. In the event one of my top 25 selections isn't something I've reviewed previously I'll dash off a new review.

I welcome all comments, criticisms, questions and dialog in general.

25. Jon Langford - Old Devils (Bloodshot)
24. Vaselines - Sex with an X (Sub Pop)
23. Drive-By Truckers - The Big To-Do (ATO)
22. Magnetic Fields - Realism (Nonesuch)

21. Dum Dum Girls - I Will Be (Sub Pop)

The Dum Dum Girls’ (the name is an homage to the Vaselines and Iggy Pop) I Will Be reconfigures a Sixties Girl Group ethos with a post-modern distortion palette that’s initially reminiscent of bands like the Jesus and Mary Chain. But the sound that Dee Dee (real name: Kristen Gundred) and fabled producer Richard Gottehrer go for here is an abstractly distortion-driven sound. The loud, fuzzy guitars are not out front in the mix like a typical punk-rock record — instead they hover like ghosts around the edges of Dee Dee’s out-front, heavily reverbed vocals. The effect is as unsettling as it is seductive.

None of this production talk would matter a whit if Dee Dee’s songs didn’t measure up. They do. Her melodies stick with you, and lyrically she ranges from the addled Breeders-meet-Ramones delivery of “Bhang, Bhang, I’m a Burnout” to the Shangri-Las styled narrative of “Jail La La,” and the sweet history-of-our-love confessions of “Yours Alone” (featuring the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s Nick Zinner on guitar). Her duet with boy-pal Brandon Welchez from the Crocodiles, ”Blank Girl,” has a charm reminiscent of the Mary Chain’s offshoot Sister Vanilla. You get the feeling that the late Ellie Greenwich would dig Dee Dee’s songs. Greenwich was a Brill Building student, but her confident girl power anthems were rebel songs of a kind. The Dum Dum Girls walk the line between sweet submission and self-assertion keenly.

Richard Gottehrer, the man who wrote “I Want Candy” and “My Boyfriend’s Back,” and who’s produced artists like Blondie, the Go-Gos and Richard Hell, has the perfect ears for the Dum Dum Girls’ vision. Having produced the Raveonettes, who thrive on somewhat similar inspirations, it would have been easy for him to replicate their sound here. Instead, he went for something more dense and ethereal.
Since this recording, Dee Dee, who plays and sings everything on I Will Be except for contributions from three guest guitarists, has assembled a band to take on the road. It will be interesting to see if they can approach the dense, spectral sound achieved on this record. The only song on I Will Be exceeding three minutes is a masterfully dark cover of Sonny Bono’s "Baby Don’t Go,” so they will probably be playing pretty short sets.

I was intrigued by the DDG before I heard a note, having seen the album’s cover photo reproduced for a poster. It’s a 1972 Polaroid of Dee Dee’s mom glancing back as her picture is being taken. She has a pretty, every-girl look of surprise — slack-jawed, but wise to the game. It’s knowing, evocative and suggests the alluring mix of confidence and vulnerability that I Will Be exudes.

Reverberating: 8.2 (original), upgraded to 8.7

Goodnight, Sleep Tight.

A few December 8th thoughts.

Lennon, Lennon everywhere.

He’s on every television news show.
He’s all over satellite radio.
His solo works were recently re-released in re-mastered versions.

And everywhere that song.

“Imagine” became what the “I Have a Dream” speech was to Martin Luther King, Jr. – a glory and an albatross. In each case the provocative depth of the message is undermined by reduction and repetition. And of course both men’s darker, more pressing statements are ignored. Jesus is always easier to tidy up than Marx, I suppose.

And here he is – bigger than Jesus. Okay, maybe not. But anyone watching the endless television coverage of the anniversary of John Lennon’s slaying could be forgiven for thinking so. A December killing, with its proximity to the savior’s birthday (or at least its date of agreed upon sale-a-bration), lends itself to new frontiers in martyr marketing. Would it be better if this wretched event went unobserved? No, the absence would pain those of us who loved his music. Still, much of what passes for the commemoration of his brutal departure chafes.

I can’t presume to think what the man himself would have thought. My guess is that it would bring out his fine sarcasm. So I’d hope. He’d notice that war was not, in fact, over. And maybe he’d have to change the line about ‘imagine no possessions’ to ‘imagine no corporations.’ Who knows?

Ultimately, I just know that the man’s work, image and statements changed how I see the world. Those of us in love with the public Lennon must, no matter how we study his music and manner, accept that this day belongs, in all its loss and horror, to those who truly knew and loved him. So, for Yoko, Sean, Cynthia, Julian, Paul, Ringo, and others this is a day that brings back many memories, some beautiful, some maybe not so beautiful, but certainly vivid, real, personal.

John Lennon understood intuitively that life was about the reconciliation of opposites. All of his flirtations with absolutes, with answers, came gratifyingly to naught. Like all great artists he contained multitudes – peace and aggression, love and indifference, Eros and Thanatos. And his work was the mostly courageous record of his confrontations with this conflicted existence.

My friend Marty and I were watching Monday Night Football and learned of Lennon’s killing from Howard Cossell. Strange, really – we watched television, and sports especially, very rarely in those days. But there we were, instantly devastated and gutted.
A few minutes later my friend James called, looking for a companion in commiseration.
We closed one of our favorite watering holes trying in vain to make sense of it all.

We didn’t. I never have. And I never will.


But the impact of the man and his music - that was about the life force, driving like a son of a bitch through the straitjacket of American Sixties existence. And things were never the same. Thank God.

When my son was born in 1996 my wife Nancy and I selected Lennon as his middle name. Eddie Wilson could be a punk, a hustler. Edward Lennon Wilson could be a poet laureate. We wanted his name to reflect the range of life’s rich possibilities. John Lennon’s life did.

I remain grateful for his life, his work, and its place in this man’s life.


Thus Continues the Top 25 for 2010 Countdown (with No. 22)

Welcome to the top 25 for 2010 Countdown! Each day we'll countdown, today we continue with number 22, culminating with our (okay, my) numero uno album of the year. When they're handy I'll borrow my earlier reviews from the KC Free Press, as I have in this case. In the event one of my top 25 selections isn't something I've reviewed previously I'll dash off a new review.

I welcome all comments, criticisms, questions and dialog in general.

25. Jon Langford - Old Devils (Bloodshot)
24. Vaselines - Sex with an X (Sub Pop)
23. Drive-By Truckers - The Big To-Do (ATO) 

22. Magnetic Fields - Realism (Nonesuch)

"Merritt(orious) work from prolific songsmith and his ensemble"

By my count, “Realism” is the ninth record from the Magnetic Fields, an ensemble that’s essentially a vehicle for the songwriter Stephin Merritt. Merritt is a busy guy, sitting around in gay bars writing songs all day. Hey, that’s what he says. He sure is prolific. Between Magnetic Fields, The Gothic Archies, the 6ths, and Future Bible Heroes, heck, he barely has time to eat, although he is fond of Scandinavian dairy products. But I digress.

Glad to be unhappy (Rodgers-Hart reference – Merritt would like that), Mr. Merritt lives in a world of melody and wit. And by golly if you relish such qualities Magnetic Fields is for you. Having made his masterpiece, the sprawling “69 Love Songs” in 1999, Merritt amuses himself with varying the sonic textures of his work — he's completely abandoned the synth-pop that established his work. The Magnetic Fields' last record, “Distortion,” lived up to its name, avowedly something of a tribute to the Jesus and Mary Chain (although Merritt is capable of the glibly facetious), the song craft was still pure Merritt. “Realism” dials back the decibels, eschewing electric instrumentation almost entirely and employing diverse instrumentation (how about flugelhorn, Cajon, accordion, banjo, etc.) well beyond the usual folkie palette. Both, the volume dial-back and the acoustic instrumentation are perfect for these hurt, bitter, but oddly blithe songs.

One could spend the day quoting from Merritt’s dour, witty songs. I shan’t. Vaguely comparable: Stuart Murdoch’s writing for Belle & Sebastian and God Help the Girl, although Murdoch is a sad humanist and Merritt is a borderline misanthrope — albeit a lovable one. Neil Hannon’s work with the Divine Comedy has a kinship with Merritt’s, but Hannon is a morally ambivalent European flatterer while Merritt is something of a New England scold for all his love of personal liberty. What else can you call the author of a jolly, but scathing putdown like “You Must Be Out of Your Mind?” It’s hard to imagine any other contemporary songwriter producing a Rudy Valli-like, Twenties homage/parody with the nod and a wink ambivalence of “Seduced and Abandoned” — Randy Newman, maybe?

Finally, Stephin Merritt is a post-rock Stephen Sondheim in search of a new Broadway, perhaps a Broadway for smarter people, indeed smarter people than those who typically support Broadway. Such is his dilemma. He’s too blisteringly direct for the polite set. And he’s too literate for ninety-percent of, well, college rockers. The gentleman sure has a way with words and tunes, though, and a lovely, refined recital like “Realism” makes a fine case for his art.

Reverberating: 8.6 (original), upgraded to 8.7

Thus continues the Top 25 for 2010 Countdown!

Welcome to the top 25 for 2010 Countdown! Each day we'll countdown, today we continue with number 23, culminating with our (okay, my) numero uno album of the year. When they're handy I'll borrow my earlier reviews from the KC Free Press, as I have in this case. In the event one of my top 25 selections isn't something I've reviewed previously I'll dash off a new review.

I welcome all comments, criticisms, questions and dialog in general.

25. Jon Langford - Old Devils (Bloodshot)
24. Vaselines - Sex with an X (Sub Pop)
23. Drive-By Truckers - The Big To-Do (ATO)

"Southern-rock to the bone, minus embarrassment"

Twelve years and eight studio records into a substantial career, the Drive-By Truckers are exemplars of smart, swaggering Southern rock. On The Big To-Do Patterson Hood and Mike Cooley’s tales of underclass tragedy — some reportorial, some skeptical, and some empathetic — are sharply rendered. Hood and Cooley are North Alabamans who migrated to the college music Mecca of Athens. That migration is telling; if this is southern rock, it’s southern rock that has more in common with Flannery O’Conner or Missouri’s Daniel Woodrell than the Allman Brothers first-person blues drones. And as pocket-deep as the rhythm section plays, guitarists Cooley and Jeff Neff interpret Johnny Thunders through the gospel of Warner Hodges (Jason and the Nashville Scorchers) and mimic Neil Young more than they do Garry Rossington or Dickey Betts.

Patterson Hood, son of Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section stalwart bassist David Hood, whose strained tenor and Paul Westerberg crosses the Mason-Dixon line sensibilities have come to define the band’s character, is the de facto band leader here with songwriting credits on eight of the albums' thirteen songs. Hood’s solo record Murdering Oscar was one of my 2009 faves. On Murdering Oscar, his guitar arrangements were sparer, evoking Mike Campbell or Richard Thompson. The Drive-By Truckers is a more lumbering beast, but even with the occasional sludge that the three guitars trip creates, for the most part the band is a formidable outfit, firing on all six cylinders like a heavier Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers or a Hold Steady covered in kudzu.

Hood’s songs are drunkard’s laments (“The Fourth Night of My Drinking”), stories of the sexual mania underlying religious conservatism (the preacher’s wife kills the reprobate rev in "The Wig He Made Her Wear"), and tales of downward mobility (he’s a southern Springsteen in “This Fucking Job”), and a host of other real-life scenarios. Cooley’s “Birthday Boy” is told from the point of view of a stripper/hooker named Trixie (get it?) and “Get Downtown” concerns a deadbeat boyfriends’ remonstrations that his girlfriend find work instead of his working for her dad. Bassist Shonna Tucker’s simple love (lorn) ditties provide a little generic relief; the simple, but effective “You Got Another” is especially appealing with its Gillian Welch/David Rawlings harmonies on the refrain.

Paternity must be on the minds of Hood and Cooley. The album opens with “Daddy Learned to Fly,” a son’s lament for his departed (dead?) father, ingeniously dressed up in a southern “Space Oddity” motif, and closes with Cooley’s “Eyes Like Glue,” a bittersweet recognition of fatherhood’s role modeling obligations.

They write smart, homespun songs. They play the hell out of them. Their humor is infectious, poetic, and sometimes profound. There’s plenty to love about the Drive-By Truckers. The Big To-Do is an inspired testimony to their musical chemistry.

Reverberating: 8.4 (original), upgraded to 8.7

Thus continues the Top 25 for 2010 Countdown!

Welcome to the top 25 for 2010 Countdown! Each day we'll countdown, today we continue with number 24, culminating with our (okay, my) numero uno album of the year. When they're handy I'll borrow my earlier reviews from the KC Free Press, as I have in this case. In the event one of my top 25 selections isn't something I've reviewed previously I'll dash off a new review.

I welcome all comments, criticisms, questions and dialog in general.

25. Jon Langford - Old Devils (Bloodshot)
24. Vaselines - Sex with an X (Sub Pop)

“They’re back; they’re still Scots, still clever, still charming”

Kurt Cobain loved the Vaselines. I think Cobain coveted their cheeky innocence and melodic ease, qualities denied to him in the River’s Edge-flannel, sourpuss machismo of the Seattle scene circa 1988-1993. Songs like “Molly’s Lips,” and “Rory Ride Me Raw” gave him the nerve to dash off ditties like “Sliver.”

Eugene Kelly and Frances McKee wrote songs with the off the cuff charm of the sing-a-long, hootenanny folk era, only the their tunes were smutty-sweet anthems to young libido and infatuation – a liberation of a sort, but not one anticipated by the Pete Seeger set. Their brief non-career is best surveyed on the excellent Sub Pop retrospective Enter the Vaselines. Nirvana covers of “Molly’s Lips,” “Son of a Gun,” and “Jesus Wants Me For a Sunbeam” probably helped pay the bills over the ensuing two decades as Kelly fronted Eugenius and McKee casually pursued a solo career.

The Vaselines reformation has picked up steam since a first reunion in 2006. This year finds them selected by fellow Glaswegians Belle and Sebastian for this year’s All Tomorrow’s Parties fest. They won’t be sticking to their lovely catalog; they’ll have a new release, to promote. Fortunately, it’s a corker that stands confidently next to their old material. This time their lineup is a bit more of a straight up rocking outfit, but their songs, singing and collaborative charm are unchanged.

“Ruined” is 2:10 of churning anti-star (dom) polemics. The title song opines “it feels so good it must be bad for me; let’s do it, do it again,” Kelly and McKee tipping their hat to their Calvinist baggage and giving it the finger at the same time. “The Devil’s Inside Me” is “Sex with an X’s” darker cousin (“made me push you against the wall”) and has a brooding intensity that begs certain Vaselines/Nirvana and chicken or the egg questions.

“Overweight but Over You” is as catchy as a “Chinnichap” number (Mike Chapman and Nicky Chinn produced hard pop hits for the likes of Sweet and Suzy Quatro back in the Seventies) and manages to connect erotic depression and food abuse. The Vaselines’ Kinks-love is evidenced on tracks like “Such a Fool,” and “Poison Pen,” the latter borrowing heavily from Muswell Hill’s finest (“Tired of Waiting”). “I Hate the 80’s” is dead funny and a bit more ambivalent than the title suggests. As Kelly and McKee observe “it wasn’t all Duran Duran.” And while they hedge their bets in memory of fellow travelers like the Pastels and Orange Juice, the Vaselines finally conclude the decade “was shit.”

“Whitechapel” resembles the Raveonettes a bit, saluting a “wonderful night,” but not without an undercurrent of foreboding. The Vaselines’ funny take on religious certitude “My God’s Bigger Than Your God” is representative of the band’s wit and charmed pop naiveté. “Exit the Vaselines” puns on their recent retrospective and remains cryptic about the band’s future. Whatever that future may hold, Sex with an X is testimony to the Vaselines’ unique and enduring charms.

Reverberating: 8.5 (original), upgraded to 8.7

Thus begins the Top 25 for 2010 Countdown!

Welcome to the top 25 for 2010 Countdown! Each day we'll countdown, starting with (yup, you guessed it!) number 25 and culminating with our (okay, my) numero uno album of the year. When they're handy I'll borrow my earlier reviews from the KC Free Press, as I have in this case. In the event one of my top 25 selections isn't something I've reviewed previously I'll dash off a new review.

I welcome all comments, criticisms, questions and dialog in general.

25.
Jon Langford and Skull Orchard – Old Devils (Bloodshot)
“Jon Langford has quietly put together one of rock’s great resumes”

Jon Langford’s thirty year plus career has produced upward of forty records between his solo work and his various bands. A founding member of one of the most enduring groups of the last three decades, the Mekons, Langford also records as or with the Pine Valley Cosmonauts, the Three Johns and the Waco Brothers.


His output is consistently satisfying, sometimes stunning. Langford’s painting and visual art production is also striking and prolific. His new record may be called Old Devils, but it’s clear that Langford’s hands are rarely idle.

The Mekons began life as a punk band, but by 1985’s Fear and Whiskey they began to incorporate American country influences into their sound. As fellow Mekon Tom Greenhalgh put it “the difference between the three chords of country and the three chords of punk became blurred.” Thus a gang of Brits who met in Leeds became seminal figures in the American alt-country movement. Among several brilliant recordings the Mekons’ 1989 release Rock n’ Roll is especially commanding.

Old Devils, recorded with Skull Orchard, which includes some of Langford’s Waco Bros. sidekicks, shows that Langford isn’t loosing any steam. Its’ combination of busker punk and country licks is fresh throughout. Like Billy Bragg, Langford is modest and vernacular as a singer, but like Bragg he’s dauntless with his material. Imagine a Welsh Johnny Cash who’s digested the critical theory of Terry Eagleton and the historical works of E.P. Thompson. Langford’s learned, but he’s not pretentious. His analytical eye is sharp and he keeps his emotions in his hip pocket. Like a true artist he invites you to perceive things from his perspective; he doesn’t tell you what to think.

“1234 Ever” establishes Langford’s distinct combination of styles. While country is at play, here the sound is closer to the sagebrush exoticism of Giant Sand and Thin White Rope than Jason and the Scorchers. “Book of Your Life” is for Langford a straightforward lament (“wish it was me in the book of your life”), but his intellectual proclivities are never far behind (“laws of physics abandoned to produce a happy ending”). Here his singing reminds at once of Joe Strummer and Procol Harum’s Gary Brooker. “Getting Used to Uselessness” is a catchy Social Distortion goes to college number, climaxed by Jim Elkington’s searching guitar solo.

“Pieces of the Past” is just your average rock ditty about slavery and man’s inhumanity. Prefaced by Andre William’s leering recitative (“Captain Henry Morgan was a very, very bad man”), Langford describes Bristol’s streets “paved in gold and blood;” it’s a chilling, evocative song that suggests and approaches Dylan’s “Blind Willie McTell.” “Haunted” vibrates with self-recognition – the New Orleans horns complementing Langford’s delivery, oddly suggesting the Libertine’s Carl Barat. The title track, perhaps loosely inspired by Kingsley Amis’s novel of the same name,” finds Langford confessing “I believe without reason there’s nothing to belief in anymore” as strings redolent of Van Morrison’s Caledonia Soul period provide counterpoint.

Old Devils is quintessential Jon Langford. Literate, sharply observed lyrics of both a personal and sociological nature paired with his seamless blend of punk, country and other idioms. If you’re not already a fan, Old Devils is a really fine record and not a bad place to start getting acquainted with Langford’s work.
Reverberating: 8.7

J. Roddy Walston and the Business Rock!

J. Roddy Walston and the Business - s/t (Vagrant)

"Boys from Baltimore rock like their lives depend on it, and they probably do."


How to describe J. Roddy Walston and the Business?

They do play some rock ‘n’ roll. Big ol’ rock ‘n’ roll, too, damn it. It’s too crazed and punk-tinged to be “classic rock,” and it’s insufficiently parochial to qualify under the current definitions of garage-rock; too much retro-garage stuff is either too nice (mannered) or too naughty (crappy playing and recording=authenticity).

This music has roots, but it sounds like it blew right out of the barroom – fresh and ready. Frankly, Walston and the Business sound like a train wreck. Jerry Lee Lewis could be the engineer. Slade, AC/DC and T. Rex are drunk in the dining car. Led Zeppelin is high and staring down the tracks from the observation deck at the back of the train. They don’t see the crash coming, an approaching head-on featuring two cars, careening in opposite directions – one’s filled with members of the Replacements and the Stones (rock critic approved); the other is driven by Kid Rock, and Black Oak Arkansas are partying in the back seat. Yup, this Southern rock dynamo is not a straight line Pitchfork cinch. Hipster alert – if you’re scared of beautiful, vulgar rock ‘n’ roll music beware: Scurry home to your Bon Iver and Animal Collective records, now!

Emerging from this glorious train wreck, J. Roddy and his gang sound like kids who ran from the Baptist church, but still full of fervor they are ready to blow the roof off any dump they play.

I can’t tell what the hell J. Roddy is on about all of the time. It’s down to the bone stuff – living, loving, and drinking. He dances on the proverbial edge (“Brave Man’s Death”), and parties (“Don’t Break the Needle” with its dirty double entendre) to be sure. On “Don’t Get Old” Walston implores his ladylove to (not) do exactly that. Next, he launches into a roadhouse stomper called “I Don’t Want to Hear” which mixes the band’s Zeppelin II stomp with ‘c’mon everybody’ vocals straight outta Springsteen and his love for Gary U.S. Bonds. Throughout, Walston pounds the ivories (a genuine piano) like a man possessed. Logan Davis (bass) and Steve Colmus (drums) approximate the Jones-Bonham tandem beautifully, while guitarist Billy Gordon lets fly like Ariel Bender in Mott the Hoople.

J. Roddy Walston and his boys practically defy criticism. This is music for driving too fast in your death-to-the-environment mobile. Not that they sound like Kings of Leon, but they provide a lot (rather than a little) of what those preacher’s boys promised on their first album, way back when they sounded like avatars of a new suck-free Southern rock, before they started dating models and dreaming of U2. That promise was that the rough beast that blew out of the American south ecstatic and guilty, black and white, sacred and sexy would never die. If J. Roddy Walston and the Business are any indication, that great beast still roars.

Reverberating: 9.0

Aloe Blacc - Good Things

(Stones Throw)









Panamanian born Aloe Blacc brings the skills he developed as a rapper
(a decade in the hip-hop duo Emanon) to his second record as a neo/retro
soul singer on the Stones Throw label, and the results are splendid. His
vocal influences range from Marvin Gaye to Gil Scott-Heron, but over the
course of Good Things Blacc asserts his own soul vision. He may not have
the chops of Marvin, but he’s a soulful, supple singer whose hip-hop informed
phrasing gives him a clear identity.

The production by the Stones Throw crew evokes old school, Seventies soul
music, but it’s fresh enough to sound totally contemporary. Leon
Michels, on keys, guitar and sax, knows his Curtis Mayfield, Marvin Gaye
(What’s Goin’ On), and Charles Wright and the 103rd Street Rhythm band -
bringing the funk and enhancing the songs. Nick Movshon’s bass playing is an
encyclopedia of soul and funk bass, endlessly inventive, moving the songs,
sometimes stealing the show by not trying to steal the show.

Blacc’s songs honor his heritage while extending it. If the catchy, arresting
capitalist critique ‘I Need a Dollar’ isn’t an anthem for these times, I don’t
know what is. And “Life So Hard,” with its There’s a Riot Goin’ On vibe isn’t
far behind. Blacc shows his stylistic range with a knowing, nuanced take on
Lou Reed’s ‘Femme Fatale.’ His ‘Mama Hold My Hand’ echoes both Bill Withers and 2Pac, while standing confidently in their esteemed company.

There’s a not so quiet revolution going on in contemporary rhythm ‘n’ blues.
Singers as diverse as Raphael Saadiq and Eli ‘Paperboy’ Reed, or Mayer
Hawthorne and John Legend are going to the well of classic soul and drawing
waters of melody, invention and humanity that are bringing a genre thirsting for real human emotion back to life. Good Things absolutely lives up to its name; it’s a fresh, original collection of songs from a singer-songwriter who understands that modern black music has to look back in order to move ahead.

Reverberating: 9.0