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Record Reviews
JUNE 14, 1999:
IBRAHIM FERRER (World Circuit/Nonesuch)
ELIADES OCHOA Sublime Illusion (Higher Octave)
The Buena Vista Social Club recordings of the last two years, featuring some of
Cuba's great, older musicians, have been so well-received that naturally more have
been cut. Top-notch vocalist Ibrahim Ferrer, who was neglected in Cuba during the
Fifties, has finally gotten some props. The 72-year-old Ferrer, a versatile singer,
performs laudably on his self-titled debut, with different types of accompaniment,
including lsh big band charts, two by Generoso "El Tojo" Jimenez, Benny
More's arranger and trombonuist, who came out of retirement at 80 to write and conduct
for his compadre. Ferrer shows he's an excellent, romantic crooner on "Silencio,"
"Aquellos Ojos Verdes," and "Como Fue." He's also an agile improviser,
as demonstrated on "Marietta," where he shares the lead with Teresa Garcia
Caturbe, and "Que Buena Baila Usted," made famous by the great Sonero More,
for whom Ferrer once sang backup vocals. There's some nice instrumental work here
as well; check the sizzling trumpet efforts of Manuel "Guajiro" Mirrabal
and Manuel Golban's shimmering electronic guitar appearances. Ruben Gonzalez also
contributes fine piano work. Compared to some of the Buena Vista guys, 52-year-old
Eliades Ochoa is a spring chicken. His is a more traditional style than guys like
Jimenez and Gonzalez, who were trailblazers in their day and drew from jazz and classical
as well as Afro Cuban sources. Ochoa, backed up by El Cuarteto Patria, sings and
plays tres guitar, drawing his son, guaracha, bolero repertoire
and style from the area around Santiago de Cuba, his hometown. Ochoa's a compelling
vocalist; he has a powerful, earthy baritone and solid time and pitch. His range
is limited, but he doesn't select notes he can't articulate cleanly. He's also an
impressive tres guitarist, an economical, thoughtful improviser who might be described
as artfully artful, i.e., completely unpretentious but very intelligent. He constructs
his solos impeccably and exhibits harmonic daring. It's heartwarming when older musicians
who've been ignored are finally given their props, but I hope that listeners won't
stop with them. Cuban music has evolved healthily since 1960; Gonzalo Rubalcaba and
Chucho Valdez, with and without Irakere and Reynaldo Melian, are wonderful, innovative
musicians who are expanding the horizons of their craft. Check them out, because
now's the time.
(Both) 4 stars -- Harvey Pekar
EL GRAN SILENCIO Libres y Locos (Ark 21)
MANO NEGRA Best Of (Ark 21)
"Mano Negra changed the complexion of European society and music by mixing
together Arab, African, and Punk. Their mixture of musical styles and cultures coupled
with their political stance greatly influenced a variety of artists as well as the
entire Rock En Español movement. This record greatly captures the essence of
the brilliant career that was Mano Negra." None of these statements, the only
biographical information on Mano Negra's purported Best Of, is necessarily
true. At the very least, it neglects to mention that the incendiary eight-piece from
Paris disseminated its wild, madhouse muse in French, Spanish, Arabic, and English,
and were as influenced by hip-hop and ska as they were classic rock and punk. One
also doubts the group, together roughly 1985-95, had much of an effect on European
society, while nearly all the Rock En Español bands were influenced by the Clash.
And one thing is for sure: Best Of does not "greatly" capture the
essence of Mano Negra. Instead, that distinction belongs to the band's sole domestic
release from a decade back, Puta's Fever, represented on Best Of by
six out of 13 tracks. "Indios de Barcelona," common to both albums but
live on Best Of (taken from the import In the Hell of Patchinko), sums
up the band in a song: a 4am, drunken Spanish street party for punks. "Mala
Vida," perhaps the band's best song, is a galloping blast of horns and guitars
driven by calliope organ snaked around singer Manu Chao's tale of a gypsy love curse.
Caliente! It crowns Puta's Fever, which is far and away the best of
the band's available catalog, Best Of paling in comparison as a rather random
collection that would have been better served by a chronological and comprehensive
approach; there were great B-sides from Puta's Fever. It does manage, however,
on the acoustic-flavored "Senor Ma Tanza," to link Mano Negra to El Gran
Silencio, whose back inset reads thusly: "Libres y Locos is the US debut from
Mexico's El Gran Silencio. It's an eclectic offering that combines acoustic guitars
and percussion with the driving energy of the Offspring, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and
Clash." Bien, but scratch the Offspring, and modify Mexico with Monterrey,
since the young fivepiece incorporates traditional Norteñoisms like accordion
and cumbias. In fact, it's the band's old-school balladeering on songs such as "Dormir
Soñando" and the romantic "No Sabemos Amar" that often works
better than some of the scratching Ozomatli funk of this promising debut. The violin
on "Creaturas De Luz" is especially evocative. With the hard-roiling Chili
Pepper punch of "Rehilete," El Gran Silencio drive the remainder of Libre
y Locos home in grand style. Manu Chao, who released a fine, acoustically frescoed
debut last year on Ark 21, would be proud.
(Best Of) 2 stars
(Libres y Locos) 2.5 stars -- Raoul Hernandez
SNOOP DOGG No Limit Top Dogg (No Limit)
Guess who's back in the motherfuckin' house? After almost six years and two disappointing
albums, the D-O-double-G has finally recorded a worthy follow-up to his epochal Doggystyle.
And with all due respect to Master P, he did it by goin' back to Cali. Snoop's understated,
sinewy flow was always better suited to the boundless bottom and reconstituted soul
of West Coast G-Funk than the No Limit label's signature bluster & bounce anyway.
Here, he plays to his strengths, digging in the crates for old Earth, Wind &
Fire ("Party With a D.P.G.") and Parliament ("Buss'n Rocks")
tracks to fill the speakers under his cockeyed gangsta narratives. Such luscious
foundations are also perfect for bringing in silky-smooth guest R&B crooners,
as on "Trust Me" (Sylk E. Fine), "Somethin' Bout Yo Bidness"
(Raphael Saadiq), and "Don't Tell" (old buddy Nate Dogg). Even the ubiquitous
in-house No Limit cuts ("Down 4 My Niggas" and "Ghetto Symphony")
score with the hyperventilated vocals of various soldiers, particularly C-Murder,
Mia X, and Mystikal. Two jams stand head and shoulders above the rest of No Limit
Top Dogg: the Ant Banks-produced "Snoopafella," an infectious relocating
of the Brothers Grimm fairy tale to the LBC; and "Bitch Please," a Dr.
Dre-produced Xzibit duet with a palpable Wu vibe. In fact, there's only one thing
missing, here. In over 77 minutes, Snoop only mentions his balls once or twice. He
does, however, say "Eat a dick." Bee-yatch!
3.5 stars -- Christopher Gray
LESTER BOWIE BRASS FANTASY The Odyssey of Funk and Popular Music Vol. 1 (Atlantic)
Long ago conceived as an antithesis to his high-minded and artistic (though equally
playful) work with the Art Ensemble of Chicago, Lester Bowie's high octane horns
have kept an eclectic playbook, often landing far afield from modern jazz's cool
ethic. Their first American recording in some time finds them delving into everything
from Puccini and Notorious B.I.G. to Marilyn Manson and the Spice Girls. Of course,
Brass Fantasy sounds nothing like any of these performers. Thicker than a New Orleans
brass outfit and funkier than a Conservatory house band, Brass Fantasy pumps air
through metal to launch a hard-edged, yet overwhelmingly good-natured sonic attack,
blasting full-throated chords, deep growls, silky lethargic rhythms, and occasional
screaming wails. On the front lines, Bob Stewart's tuba, Gary Valente's trombone,
and Vincent Chancey's French horn work are all superlative. Bowie's trumpet sputters
and slices through the wall of bells like a high beam headlight. Curiously, arrangements
are not credited, and some material adapts more easily than others. Brother Joseph
guests on vocals and trombone, morphing the group into Defunkt for one track. There's
also an aspiring reworking of Harold Melvin's "If You Don't Know Me By Now."
Yet the real standout is, of all things, a pulsing rendition of Cole Porter's "In
the Still of the Night," a bluesy and joyous celebration of popular music that's
at the heart of this group's agenda.
3 stars -- Jeff McCord
THE ROBERT CRAY BAND Take Your Shoes Off (Rykodisc)
Ally McBeal isn't the only one fantasizing about Al Green. Bay Area bluesman Robert
Cray, heretofore known as one of SRV's six-string pals, has shelved the guitar heroics
(mostly) and recorded the best album of pure Memphis soul since Hi Records closed
up shop in the late Seventies. Cray even looks to great MG man Steve Jordan to help
get things started on Willie Mitchell's brooding "Love Gone to Waste."
Though the overall sound is cut from the same cloth that propelled Rev. Al to fame
and fortune, shades of Sam & Dave and Sam Cooke also surface, mostly on "Pardon,"
"That Wasn't Me," and "What About Me." The full-bodied tones
of Jim Pugh's keyboards and Karl Sevareid's bass are on display throughout, especially
on the snappier cuts "24-7 Man" (by "Mustang Sally" man Sir Mack
Rice) and "It's All Gone." And thank God for the Memphis Horns, who deserve
their own Tennessee state holiday. "Won't You Give Him (One More Chance)"
has an odd Hollies feel, but after the solid soul of "Living Proof" and
"What About Me," Cray revisits the blues for a mesmerizing version of Willie
Dixon's "Tollin' Bells," a perfect coda for an album that deserves to be
on KUT's Twine Time even though it was cut in 1999 instead of 1974. (The
Robert Cray Band plays Stubb's outdoor stage, Saturday, June 12.)
3.5 stars -- Christopher Gray
THE BLUE RAGS Eat at Joe's (Sub Pop)
The current roots rock movement is plagued with poseurs who jump on any passing
hay-covered bandwagon, abandoning punk bands and electric guitars for a steady diet
of cheap weed, public domain recordings, and sloppily played acoustic instruments.
The ones who do it upright and wholeheartedly, however, usually stumble onto something.
Take the Blue Rags, for instance, who with their wide-eyed and exuberant if slightly
sloppy debut Rag and Roll brought ragtime, traditional New Orleans jazz, and
sped-up Southern blues to the kids with a freewheeling rock sensibility. On Eat
at Joe's, their second effort for Sub Pop, there are a number of tracks like
"Movin' On," "Jet Set," "Hard Times," and "Baby
Back" reaching out of the nebulous, ill-defined hippie-grass-jam formula of
their debut and establishing the band in terms of its own songs -- still making good
use of ragtime and New Orleans inspirations, but more honestly acknowledging of the
group's rock roots. Every song here is an original, as opposed to a debut defined
by covers from Leadbelly, King Oliver, and George Gershwin. They've backed off the
tempo a bit, perhaps to let the songs sink in more, and the effect is a marked advance.
It's all still a little sloppy, but good enough to know that The Blue Rags are driving
their own wagon now.
3 stars -- Christopher Hess
FRED EAGLESMITH 50-Odd Dollars (Razor & Tie)
In a time when not only is rock & roll dead, but folk music has been run over
so many times by boring singer-songwriters it barely has a pulse, Fred Eaglesmith
manages to combine both types of music with enough energy and inventiveness to give
us all hope. A departure from his decidedly acoustic past, 50-Odd Dollars
rustles up a variety of styles and sounds that make the album hard to pigeonhole
while remaining refreshing and entertaining. Like Robert Earl Keen or Tom Waits,
Eaglesmith has some great stories to tell, and interesting musical settings in which
to depict them, jumping from the electro-Celtic "Blue Tick Hound" to the
guitar-driven anthem "Rodeo Boy" to the off-kilter honky-tonk of "Crazier"
and rockabilly twang of "Alternator" (Fred just loves cars) to the quiet
moments of "Carter," a tribute to bluegrass great Carter Stanley. Eaglesmith's
capacity for bringing his characters to life with an economy of words that speak
volumes unites the songs into a collective whole, his sense of humor shining through
on "Mighty Big Car" (Fred really likes cars), which contains the
line, "Elvis had one, so did Hank. They don't look like money, they look like
the bank." Even though Eaglesmith calls Ontario, Canada, home, he shares a kinship
with some of Texas' best songwriters. Fans of such well-crafted songs are sure to
find 50-Odd Dollars a thrill.
4 stars --Jim Caligiuri
TERRI HENDRIX Live (Tycoon Cowgirl)
Terri Hendrix's local debut, Wilory Farm, covered a wide range of popular
styles with a dexterous competency in performance and production that made for a
full realization of the young singer-songwriter's ambitious vision. Since Hendrix's
reputation, one that has only become bigger and brighter in the year since, has been
built on the consistent quality of her captivating live performances, it's a smart
move to release a live CD as a follow up -- especially one like this. Recorded in
March of 99, Live incorporates five tunes from Wilory Farm and adds
a few well-chosen new originals and covers. It's not perfect -- "Clicker"
and "Dana Blues" are tunes that might have otherwise remained live-only
selections, while "Take Me Places" is one of those you-had-to-be-there
moments -- but for the most part, it's really good. "Sister's Song" is touching
as ever, as is Hendrix's cover of "Fisherman's Blues," and from the opening
ringing strings, "Wallet" has the sound and feel of a time-tested hit.
Throughout, Hendrix shines in the company of veteran local musicians Glenn Fukunaga
on bass and Paul Pearcy on drums, not to mention the precision of Lloyd Maines on
mandolin, guitar, dobro, and steel, turning in a performance that was well worth
capturing.
3.5 stars -- Christopher Hess
JACK LOGAN Buzz Me In (Capricorn)
What we may have on our hands here is rock & roll's first truly content songwriter.
Since Logan released 1994's acclaimed Bulk, culled from over 600 demos he
had been working on since the late Seventies, the line has formed to determine what
makes this middle-aged Georgian pump mechanic tick. Bulk and its sometimes-rushed
successors have delved into dark corners, but from a storyteller's vantage, there's
no judgment or affections. Better still, in the Southern tradition of Flannery O'Connor
-- or even the old joke "does your dog bite?" -- only so much information
is given. Logan claims not to labor over his writing, and while he lacks the depth
of some that do, his simplicity is key to his appeal. Buzz Me In is Logan's
first real album, with a producer, realized arrangements, even guest stars. By filling
in the blanks, his hip cachet may dwindle; the album's a work of striking conventionalism.
It's also one of the more intriguing and enjoyable collections of songs to be heard
in some time. There's sadness and elation in these songs -- an almost casual lineup
of foibles paraded with skill and compassion. Logan is serious about his hobby; he's
been writing songs all his adult life, yet he has the smarts not to take himself
too seriously. Without a gimmick to market Buzz Me In, it's doubtful this
deserving album will find a large audience in the fickle rock world. It's even more
doubtful Logan's the least bit concerned.
4 stars -- Jeff McCord
THE ROCK-A-TEENS Golden Time (Merge)
When rock music tackles romance, it's usually sanitized with an airy, saccharine
gloss that effectively negates the nervous, awkward truth. Not so with Georgia's
Rock-A-Teens. The quartet's pimply, plaintive warbles reek of first-time desperation
deep in the heart of unrequited crushville. Golden Time walks us through one
such saga in a twang-laden stupor that just might come off like a Teenage Symphony
to God if you've had enough liquor. The album's lasting hallmark is a poor man's
wall of sound that underscores the sweet sadness of looking back on a once-raging
love. "Black Metal Stars" is an erstwhile waltz that stumbles out of the
gate in a cacophonous bluster as Chris Lopez's voice groans and cracks with the strain
of never being able to satisfy a girl's rock star fixation. The despondence thickens
in "The Woods of Hemlock Park," a melancholy esteem-crusher that burrows
deep into your head with an unforgettable piano melody. Similarly, "The Wreck
in Front of Your House" thrives on a distorted miasma of violin, guitar, and
keyboards, and is almost embarrassing in its heartsickness. You don't listen to this
dramatic debunker of the fun-fun-fun rubric -- you wallow in it.
3.5 stars -- Greg Beets
THE LONESOME ORGANIST Caravan (Thrill Jockey)
Imagine you're at a professional baseball game that's stuck in the 27th inning,
tied (it's happened). Ignore the utter exhaustion of the players, the sheer frustration
of the fans, and listen to the organist. He's been consuming those huge buckets of
ballgame beer throughout, thinking he'd be safely home hours ago. What he's resorted
to is what you're hearing now, Caravan, the music of the Lonesome Organist.
Flecks of various ethnic musics pepper tunes otherwise assembled for use on carousels
and ice cream trucks, recalling a time when such unique instrumental visions actually
filled the record racks. Those were the days of Esquivel, Martin Denny, Les Baxter,
et al., and there's good reason those albums are now labeled "Extremely Strange
Music," though most is merely odd. A number of younger artists have attempted
to recreate the charm of those old LPs, but most go for goofiness over authenticity,
or blend them with newer elements like techno. The Lonesome Organist, on the other
hand, is a truer son of those flawed visionaries of years past, playing a zillion
different instruments, sometimes adding distant, echo-y vocals or oddball sound effects
(one song is called "Boing!" -- you figure it out) without either going
too far to the wacky side or drifting too far into macabre Residents territory. That
might make the Lonesome Organist "middle of the road" in some sense, but
be assured: It's a road that only the Incredibly Strange will find safe to travel.
3 stars -- Ken Lieck
CIBO MATTO Stereotype A (Warner Bros.)
After Cibo Matto's popular food-themed debut found inside-joke charm in everyday
refrigerator contents, its follow-up slides smoothly across the room to revel in
everything but the kitchen sink, turning funk, pop, bossa nova, metal, hip-hop, and
New Wave upside down into a shiny new melting pot. The result is a ambitiously eclectic,
not-a-bad-track-in-the-bunch kind of affair, where sonic oddities, resourceful samples,
Yuka Honda's whipsmart arrangements, and Miho Hatori's vastly improved singing seem
to constantly yell "fun," all the while whispering "maturity."
And therein lies Stereotype A's success: Cibo Matto have gone anti-concept,
shedding their one-trick-pony baggage without ever coming off forced, contrived,
or pretentious. After all, how seriously are we supposed to take a band that uses
a title like "Sci-Fi Wasubi" as an excuse to rhyme "stromboli,"
"Moby," and "Obi-Wan Kenobi"? Okay, maybe they're not entirely
out of the kitchen yet, but with "Sci-Fi Wasubi" and 10 tracks like it
being so undeniably goofy, freewheeling, and yet fully realized, Stereotype A
isn't just a great party album, it's like the Beastie Boys' Paul's Boutique
or Beck's Odelay in the same way those seminal releases came off as entertaining
first and "important" later. The only real difference is that Stereotype
A feels like both -- right here, right now. More please.
3.5 stars -- Andy Langer
FANTASTIC PLASTIC MACHINE Luxury (Emperor Norton)
Tomoyuki Tanaka's library of vinyl is legendary, and not just within the Tokyo
Shibuya Kei club scene the spawned him. His recent SXSW showcase at Bob Popular saw
the rotund DJ spinning a looney amalgam of bossa nova-inspired lounge fare heavily
interspersed with spy movie samples and shaken-not-stirred retro chic. That's a pretty
fair description of Luxury as well, which like Tanaka's previous releases
mines everything from Sixties eclectica to Brazilian world-beat. Like labelmates
Pizzicato Five, Tanaka's playful sense of humor infuses his music like cotton candy
lodged in a wino's beard, making him a strong contender for the Silliest DJ award.
Tracks like "Bossa for Jackie (Dedicated to Mrs. Kennedy)" and "You
Must Learn All Night Long" are sugary slices of pure pop giddiness, the former
relying on a big beat background, the latter so uncynically avant-Sixties that you
can practically hear the Vespas percolating in the background. A groovy cover of
Eurythmics "There Must Be an Angel (Playing With My Heart)" only adds to
Tanaka's explosion of grinning Nippon lunacy. Shagadelic, indeed.
3 stars -- Marc Savlov
CHEAP TRICK Music for Hangovers (Cheap Trick Unlimited)
With three Top 10 singles under their belts, Cheap Trick could simply be phoning
it in on the fairground, casino, and nudist festival circuits. The lasting exuberance
of their music is certainly a factor in helping them escape this fate, but the main
reason Cheap Trick can strut into Chicago's Metro and play four of their albums straight
through on four consecutive sold-out nights is combat-tested live prowess. Music
for Hangovers doesn't have anything approaching the adolescent hysteria of At
Budokan, yet the band still manages to convey the atmosphere of a big, can't-miss
rock event. Most of the songs come from the band's first three albums, which are
generally regarded as their best works. "Taxman, Mr. Thief" stews and finally
boils over on the strength of one of guitarist Rick Nielsen's most memorable (yet
under-recognized) hooks, while the Richard Speck-inspired "The Ballad of T.V.
Violence" emphasizes Cheap Trick's seedier side in a manner that would horrify
those who only know the band from "The Flame." In addition to their earlier
work, the band treats us to prime performances of "I Can't Take It" and
"If You Want My Love," two power pop gems from the years without bassist
Tom Petersson. Of course, the evening wouldn't be complete without being able to
sing along to "Surrender," "I Want You To Want Me," and "Dream
Police," but you knew that already.
3.5 stars -- Greg Beets
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