marksaleski.com

One way to define a categorical number line of female jazz vocalists would be to put artists like Ella Fitzgerald (full of insistent smolder, fire & brimstone) at one end, and balance that with voices of pure subtlety at the other — Billie Holiday, Shirley Horn, and maybe even Norah Jones. This construct is unsatisfying, partially because nearly every singer has elements taken from either end of the scale. So what to do?

Maybe the answer lies in ignoring concrete answers and letting the music tell its own story.

I’ve been listing to Deeper for several months now. Part of the reason the review has not materialized is that not only can I not decide where Maria Neckam lives on the number line (with perhaps the more important side issue of: Should I care where she lives on that line?), I can’t take an intellectual step back from the music. The truth is, I’ve been having too much fun listening.

OK, let’s get serious here and bring in some of the detail. Maybe some sense will come into focus after that.

Neckam’s voice has a buoyant spark to it that reminds me of Carla Bruni or maybe even a less breathy Jane Birkin. This doesn’t mean that she leans more toward the pop side. Give a listen to “Indestructible Fort,” which contains some lovely melodic lines in the chorus that at first run in unison with the horn, and then serve as a harmonic base to the sax solo. Quite an interesting series of interdependences.

“Happy Song” brings to mind something that Bruce Hornsby might do, opening with vocals doubling the riff. Ah, but when we switch over to the chorus the vamp turns a little more sultry, an almost Sade or Erykah Badu kind of thing. The theme of the song, “When happiness knocks on your door/you should let it in” is one of the many reasons this album is so much fun.

Don’t let all of this pop songstress name-checking lead you to believe that Neckham has limited jazz chops. Check out “Fear,” which starts off with a nice & angular four-note figure, voice and saxophone in unison. The drums and bass drop in to push up the funk a bit before Neckam takes off on the first verse, driven by modifications to that initial setup. It’s really tremendous stuff, showing off not only Neckams’s voice but the power and flexibility of her band. This kind of song construction is also used to great effect on the closing “Learn My Tongue,” though this time the band pushes things just a little bit farther out, with a sparse and funky middle section that spotlights piano player Aaron Goldberg and saxophonists Samir Zarif and Lars Dietrich.

One tune that really stood out to my ears was “Missing You.” For part of it, Neckam takes a forceful lead role, again singing in unison with the horns. As the band lays back, she sings some delicate wordless vocals against the rhythm section. It’s the prettiest moment on Deeper, and provides great contrast to the solos that launch forth before that final return to the main theme.

So forget categories. Forget about what’s “right” or “wrong” in a jazz singer. In Deeper you will hear Maria Neckam and her band having a great time. And sometimes, that’s all that matters.

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First published at Blogcritics magazine

Everybody has their heads down and are grinding away at work. A deadline (one of many) approaches. To burn off a little stress yesterday afternoon, I listened to some Slayer. I’m not even sure if it worked or not, because there was a lot of tension in my back and hands as I walked out the door. Me and the project manager were chatting just before I left and he mentioned that, earlier in day, he had felt compelled to listen to Appetite For Destruction. He hadn’t heard it in years. Hey, he’s under more pressure than me so I hope it did the trick.

Come to think of it, it’s been a long time since I dialed that record up myself. I sure was swept up with the first G ‘n R wave, but that was about it for me. Hmmm, let me start at the beginning.

Appetite came out in 1987. I was just a scant few years out of college, maybe slightly more mature than my early 80’s self, but still not ‘adult’ enough to avoid “The Big Stupid.” (OK, I’m still not. You got me there). At that point, I had probably shelved my Quiet Riot and Twisted Sister records, but was certainly not beyond noise for the sake of noise. Frank Zappa used “The Big Stupid” in a political context. I like to use it to refer to rock records that are, well, not exactly “high art,” if you know what I mean.

So anyway, this record comes out and “Welcome To The Jungle” comes blaring out over the radio and holy crap, it was great. That song had just about everything you’d want in a great rock anthem-type thing: a great guitar riff, a snarling singer, loads of tension & release, an unforgettable chorus. Oh yes, it came on the radio and you just had to turn it up even if it was your hundredth listen.

I’ve had this conversation with a friend of mine about Appetite For Destruction, he being of the opinion that it’s one of the best metal albums of all time. (You can leave the word ‘metal’ out of it really, so as to avoid the silly “It’s not really metal” harangue….Hey wait, that rhymes with ‘Kerrang‘! Awesome.) I dunno. After “Jungle” we have the other big hits of “Paradise City” and “Sweet Child ‘O Mine.” I like those tunes, and in fact love the melodic bass part during the latter’s intro, but that’s were it ends for me. I sort of can’t remember any other details from the album.

Thinking back on it, maybe some of Axl’s the band’s hijinx, particularly after the debut record, soured me on their whole thing. I’m not sure about that either. I will say that by the time the Illusion records came out I just didn’t care anymore. Supposed epics like “November Rain” reinforced the notion that they had nothing else to say. And please, don’t even get me started on that horrific cover of Dylan’s “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door.” Some folks got their knickers in a twist over Axl’s misogyny and paranoia. Sure, it’s a nasty record, like that’s so uncommon to the genre. Right.

OK, I’ll say it now…”Where’s Slash?!!!” I have to say that his playing never did much for me. Sorry, just a matter of taste (Yeah, I don’t have any…blar, blar…whatever). The interplay between him and Izzy Stradlin is fun, but maybe not enough to sustain ear parts’ interest over an hour.

It’s sort of too bad that tunes like “Welcome To The Jungle” have become standard issue at NFL football games and the like. Music co-opted for other forms of commerce is never a good time in my book. On the other hand, the shallowness of that aspect of the business can’t deter me from torquing up the volume when the need presents itself.

So let’s see if any of those other missing details show up this morning. I sure could use ‘em. Welcome to the deadline baby, you’re gonna die!!

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First published at Blogcritics magazine

Last week I had a nice visit with an old friend who’s never met me. You read that right. See, Natalie Goldberg’s Long Quiet Highway is my favorite book. Yep, it even beats out On The Road. I try to reread it at least once of year. The story resonated with me so much during the first read that I thought she had written it for me.

Near the end of an almost 10 year marriage that was beyond the help of life support, I happened upon Goldberg’s memoir in a book club catalog. I don’t remember exactly what the blurb said, but the themes of Buddhism and writing appealed to me. Note that at that point, I was neither a writer nor a Buddhist. The book ended up being more than I bargained for. Goldberg told the story of finding her way through life by employing writing as both vocation and therapy. In parallel, she related her journeys through Buddhism and her relationship with her teacher, Dainin Katagiri Roshi.

Goldberg found a physical home in New Mexico and, for a time, a spiritual home in Minnesota. Her story both inspired and depressed me. I felt a certain energy build inside myself while reading of her long-term commitment to the written word. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to be a writer since at the time I really only had vague notions. No, it was more that I sat there in my own endlessly static state reading about a person who seemed to be solving their life. It was actually possible! On the other hand, I found Roshi’s decline and eventual death very difficult to take. Maybe it was my fragile emotional state, or maybe it was just a sympathetic response to my newfound friend’s shattering circumstance — whatever the reason, I remember sitting up very late at night, crying silently as my eyes floated over those words describing that man’s passing.

On subsequent readings of Long Quiet Highway, I found myself rooting for Goldberg. My own life had changed for the better (after getting much worse), so the book was not the reminder of my sad circumstance that it had been. Goldberg’s determination in her writing, and her joyous immersion in the creative world were all the more inspiring. It did indeed feel like we were friends. But still, Roshi always died. I was always sad.

Like a lot of things that happen so slowly that we barely notice, we change too. Certainly our bodies change, and that might be the most obvious marker of the passage of time. A little more subtle — or more hidden — are the changes in how we think. Our perspective on things.

During my most recent reread, there was a new passage that resonated. Natalie’s beloved grandmother was spending her final days in a nursing home. Natalie feels compelled to visit. Though senility has robbed her grandmother of the knowledge of her granddaughter, they share a moment of intimacy that’s almost too much to take. When Natalie was a young girl, she would often ask her grandmother to repeat the story of how she met her grandfather. She would begin by saying “Shall I tell you a story? About a glory? How to begin it? There’s nothing in it.” All of these years later, lying next to her in a nursing home bed:

“Grandma, tell me a story,” I beseeched her.
She answered, “About a glory?”
I said, “How to begin it?”
“There’s nothing in it, she said.

I am not surprised that this passage hit me so hard this time around, because things have definitely changed in my life. Things that make this account so much more real. No, the big surprise is how I missed it all of those other times. Was I that different back then. Apparently so.

All of this serves as a confirmation that I have places to go and that time might be short. You just never know. In Mary Chapin Carpenter’s “Late For Your Life,” the chorus brings up the idea that our search can often be full of both right and wrong turns, the point being that we shouldn’t let it stop us: “Call it chance or call it fate/Either one is cause to celebrate/Still the question begs why would you wait/And be late for your life.”

Thank you, old friend. I hope we meet some day.

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First published at Blogcritics magazine

Smaller, more intimate ensembles rule Plate #3. I guess it was my mood, but I listened to a big band recording and just could not get into it. I don’t often reject things out of hand so I waited and tried again. Nothing. For whatever reason, trios and quartets are more to my liking at the moment.

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Tyler Summers Trio - Live At The Cellar Hey, so the trio is actually a quintet. Sort of. In any event, there’s a healthy dose of telepathic interplay on this disc. I particularly like how Summers plays his soprano sax (he plays alto as well) off of David Braid’s piano on “Contemplation.” There are also long-form compositions (”Solitary Candle”) and tracks that build drama with inventive use of unison lines. “Patience” (my favorite track) is such a tune, torquing up the electricity with some exhilarating starts and stops. The back & forth between busted passages and straight ahead swing is a load of fun.

Dan Pratt Organ Quartet - Toe The Line

You just can’t go wrong with the B-3. Saxophonist Dat Pratt might be running the show, but it’s B-3 player Jared Gold who is the secret weapon here. Secret weapon #2 (Wait, is it OK to have two?) is trombonist Alan Berber. Go ahead and check out the snazzy unison play the three of them cook up on “Doppleganger.” This repeated elsewhere including on “Uncle Underpants.” Great song title and gorgeously-delivered composition.

Mike LeDonne - The Groover

Yeah! Again with the B-3, this time with sax, guitar, and drums. From swing (”Bopsolete”) to smokey blues (And what self-respecting organ ensemble would sidestep the blues? Check out “Deep Blue,” killer guitar solo by Peter Bernstein on this one), this group knows how to have a good time. The title track gets in that groove and burns. And speaking of fun, there’s always the swingin’ cover of Michael Jackson’s “Rock With You” that opens the program.

Carolyn Leonhart & Wayne Escoffery - Tides of Yesterday

Normally, I’m not a particularly skeptical person. But when I see things in album credits like “hair,” “makeup,” and “dresses,” it’s tough to not tighten up a little. The good news is that Leonhart and Escoffery can bring it. She has a voice that manages to seem almost crystalline while retaining all sorts of texture. A perfect example of this is “Big Noise, New York,” a bluesy Donald Fagen composition that allows Escoffery to step out early on with a nice solo before Leonhart comes in. The combination of voice and tenor saxophone is very subtle and sensual, something to be expected for a person who worked as a backup singer for Steely Dan for a decade.

Abdullah Ibrahim & WDR Big Band Colgne - Bombella

I am shocked to say that this recording left me cold. Shocked because it’s got Abdullah Ibrahim on it! There certainly are some great moments, such as the solo piano opening track (”Green Kalahari”) and the sprightly “Mandela” — come on, the melody is played on the irresistible piccolo flute! They also generate a serious amount of heat on “I Mean You/For Monk.” Kudos to guitarist Paul Shigihara for a killer solo. And Ibrahim does lay out some pretty inventive ruminations during the solo “For Monk” part. Still, I got to the end and those three bits were the only parts I remembered. Maybe I was just in the mood for something a little smaller that day.

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First published at Blogcritics magazine

From: MartinGillby@wbr.com
To: greatwhitenorthernteam@wbr.com

Subject: Re: Status of Jack White’s Proposed Liner Notes

As you all know, we’re still about two months away from our production deadline with regard to the packaging of this latest White Stripes album. My communications with Jack had been going well enough, but we have hit a worrisome snag. I received an email earlier today containing Jack’s completed liner notes for the record (included below).

I have to say that I’m more than a little perplexed. Jack has always made it perfectly clear that he wants nothing more than to continue working with Meg after she has dealt with her issues. We certainly can’t begrudge Jack his side projects as we have only to gain by keeping our stable of artists fresh. In Jack’s case, this creative priming tilts the odds in our favor for future White Stripes product.

Please read the enclosed materials. I will schedule a meeting near week’s end. We have to determine the best course of action. Obviously, we don’t want to anger Jack and endanger a reliable revenue stream. Given the notes’ content, that may very well be out of our hands anyway. Can we just run with these notes? That seems risky as well. WalMart will also be an issue.

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Icky Thump was a turning point for us. We were very happy with that collection of songs. It made us stretch a little. Always a good thing. Yeah sure, I like makin’ a blasphemous noise with the guitar and Meg loves adding to the bluster, but it was cool to take on songs like “Conquest.” Yep, we have Son House in our blood, but that ain’t all. People sometimes have a hard time believing that. Hell, even after we did “Jolene.” C’mon, that’s not a damned novelty tune, it’s a great song!The tour really started out to be something special. Canada feels like a second home to me. When I was a kid we went on a few vacations over in Toronto. I was always amazed when that station wagon made it the whole distance. I’m not sure what attracted my parents to that place. Hell, they had to drag all of us kids with them. I didn’t care. It got me out of altar boy duty for two Sundays.Anyway, one of the best ideas we ever had was to play these secret shows at each town. Bowling alleys, metro transit buses, bars. The fans went crazy. We loved doing it for them.

Something weird started happening in the middle of the tour. Meg started to become more distant. I couldn’t figure it out. She was playing great and was really into it but then we’d be talking about things and I’d realize that she wasn’t really listening. I brought up the idea of covering “Grinnin’ In Your Face” and she said “Uhm, sure…” but kept looking down and tapping on that damned Blackberry.

The last straw came when we hit a place called the Arva Flour Mill in London, Ontario. Meg had gone off to find the bathroom before we got started and left her Blackberry sitting on her throne. I got sort of curious and picked it up. It was open to a review of Icky Thump. That’s when I lost it.

I don’t know how many of you out there might have stumbled onto this review but it was certainly an eye-opener. Apparently, our dear Meg had been shackin’ up with some dude from Maine. Son…of…a…bitch! I couldn’t believe it. Well, she was on her way back from the bathroom and we had to play our show so I had to put this horrendous revelation in my back pocket.

Later on that night, I asked to borrow her Blackberry so I could check for used record shops in Ottawa. A quick scan of her email revealed a whole trail of letter-writing that was just dripping with humping and oral sex and a whole bunch of other stuff that frankly I’d rather not think about. You know what might be worse? He’s got her listening to all of this avant-garde jazz crap! Can you believe it? That stuff’s lame.

What? You fell for that “used to be married” thing? Or the “big sister” ruse? Don’t believe a word. I thought we were still together. Me and her. Forever.

Now it’s all ruined. I’m sorry to say that you are holding the last White Stripes record in your hands. I’m sorry for you, but not for Meg. She can go to hell. Her and those pre-show freakouts and that anxiety medication and that slimy little bastard from Portland, Maine.

-Jack White

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First published at Blogcritics magazine

I can’t exactly remember either the song or the awards show I saw her perform it on. It had to be either Roy Orbison’s “Crying” or maybe “Constant Craving.” I also want to say that it was on the Grammy awards. Now that I think about it, I remember running out to buy Absolute Torch and Twang the next day so that drops “Constant Craving” from the running.

Anyway, at that point I had read an article or two about k.d. lang, but hadn’t heard a note. There was certainly a buzz going on in the press, and that television performance proved that the buzz was well-founded. This woman could sing!

It’s easy to look at the early history of lang’s career and see it as another case of Nashville not knowing what to do with a major talent, one that didn’t quite fit in. In retrospect, it hardly matters. The transition that saw lang’s work with The Reclines morph into the adult pop of Ingénue serves as a history of her career in microcosm. To that high lonesome sound of a Roy Orbison and the melodic range of a Patsy Cline (both of whom lang admired greatly), lang added both tremendous power and sensitivity. If an artist as great as Tony Bennett can refer to her as the best singer since Judy Garland, well…you know she’s got something special going on. There’s surely the way I felt when I first heard her.

The weird thing is that Ingénue was the last record of hers that I bought. It might be that was right around the time my JazzSnob™ phase kicked in. Too bad, because Recollection has opened my ears to what I’ve been missing.

Drawing from 25 years of music making, the first two discs comprise the best of k.d. lang. 22 songs that include material from Absolute Torch and Twang (”Trail of Broken Hearts”) all the way through “I Dream Of Spring” from 2008’s Watershed. The first disc concentrates on material from lang’s ‘regular’ releases while disc 2 showcases all of the songs she has contributed to other records and film soundtracks. While I was apparently not paying attention, lang has recorded: with Jane Siberry for the film Until the End of the World, “Help Me” (A Tribute to Joni Mitchell), “Love For Sale” (The Black Dahlia), and Cole Porter’s “So In Love” for the Red, Hot & Blue compilation.

On the rarities disc, which contains such gems as “I’m Sitting on Top of the World” (from the film The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio) and a string-drenched take on “Skylark,” the fan is in for a real treat with a suite of live songs recorded at a 2008 appearance on radio station KCRW. Dang, the version of “Smoke Rings” manages to be both romantic and funny. And while the live version of “Wash Me Clean” is just stunning, my ears say that the high point comes early with lang’s interpretation of Neil Young’s “Helpless.” It’s just gorgeous.

Recollection ends with a DVD of videos that go all the way back to Ingénue (including “Constant Craving,” “The Mind of Love,” and the campy “Miss Chatelaine”) and as far forward as 2004’s Hymns of the 49th Parallel, ending with versions of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” and Young’s “Helpless,” performed at the 2005 Juno Awards.

There’s a moving moment that comes just after lang has finished “Hallelujah.” She is moved to tears at the magnitude of the crowd’s appreciation. It’s a genuine connection between audience and performer, one that takes me all the way back to when I first heard her sing “Crying.” When an event is so good that you can hardly contain your emotions, you know something special has just happened.

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First published at Blogcritics magazine

OK, lemme tells some stories. There were not one but two actual lies in the pack of six.

1. About 15 years ago, I made it a habit of driving from southern New Hampshire up to Bar Harbor, Maine for a case of beer…all in one day.

True! Back then, despite being in the middle of my homebrewing years, I still had a craving for Cadillac Mountain Stout. You could only get it in Bar Harbor. So me and a few friends would get up very early on a Saturday in January and drive up there. It was about 6 hours one way. It’s kind of interesting to see the place you associate with summer right in the middle of a dark & windy, below zero January day. Still worth it for the case of beer.

2. About 10 years ago, I was lucky enough to meet Tori Amos. She called me an ‘audiophile’! I put my right arm around her during the photo op and have not washed it since.

True! A friend of mine won tickets over the radio to see Tori play at the University of New Hampshire, with a meet & great beforehand. My gawd, I was so nervous. She asked me and Eric how we’d met and we sheepishly related the story of how Eric had received my copy of Stereophile magazine in his mailbox, and called me up to tell me. We became friends after that but didn’t really want to tell Tori about the audiophile thing. Her response was “That’s OK, my husband’s one too!!”

And yeah, I’ve washed my arm since.

3. Even though I consider myself something of a foodie, one of my favorite foods is smelts.

FALSE! Yuck. I’ve only been close enough to smelts to eat them once. When I was in high school, me and the folks used to eat dinner at the Pine Tree Restaurant in Skowhegan, Maine. My mom was notorious for making bad food choices when she was out at dinner. The special that night was smelts and she ordered them despite my dad saying “You’d better not!” Well, that plate showed up, full of the little fish and mom was having none of it. Dad was a good sport and switched plates with her. I just laughed. We got a lot of mileage out of that story.

4. I attended two Kiss shows, on two consecutive nights, during the Dynasty tour.

True! In Cleveland, Ohio at the Richfield Coliseum. First night was so good we drove downtown the next morning to get tickets at the May Company. I saw quite of few shows at that old arena, including Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band and The Tubes.

5. Most embarrassing show I’ve ever attended: Shania Twain.

FALSE! I am in no way embarrassed by having gone to that show. Up With People, on the other hand…

6. I have an uncle who is a member of the Polka Music Hall of Fame.

True! Stanley E. Saleski is a member of the Polka Hall of Fame. He had a radio show, the “Silver City Polka Party”, for years in Meriden, Connecticut on AM station WMMW.

“It’s a major award!! (Bonus points if can remember what movie that quote comes from).

Good friend and fellow writer-type person Connie Phillips and all of her writer cohorts and been flinging around this Bald-faced Liar creative blog awards thingie. Writers need all of the support they can get so this kind of thing is not only a fun form of respect, it’s just good for the ‘ole writer karma.So the rules (which of course I will break) are as follows:

1. Thank the person who gave this to you. (Aw, shucks Connie. Thanks!)
2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog. (I can do that, even though my pathetic inner nerd likes to take Sunday off)
3. Link the person who nominated you. (See #2)
4. Tell up to six outrageous lies about yourself, and at least one outrageous truth. (See below)
5. Nominate seven “Creative Writers” who might have fun coming up with outrageous lies. (Rule-breaking begins here)
6. Post links to the seven nominated blogs.
7. Inform the nominees by leaving a comment at their site.

So here’s the deal, I don’t know that many other creative writers who maintain active blogs. So I’m going to dispense with items 5 through 7 (this is one of many reasons my college GPA was only 2.6) and get to the fun stuff.

Wait, I would like to mention a couple of folks. One is Mat Brewster, who keeps a music bootleg blog called The Midnight Cafe. There’s not much in the way of new writing there at the moment but there’s a good (no…great) reason for it: Mat has started working on a memoir about his travels. I get all tingly just thinking about it. So should you.

Second up is my close friend Tyler Brown. Me and Mr. Brown have been friends since we were about 15. His site also has almost no writing (too bad, because he does know how to push around a pencil) but instead features his fabulous photography. Just take a look at that gorgeous photo of the U.S. capital building. Ty’s mom just received the Congressional Medal of Honor for her service in the WASPs during World War II. The photo was taken during the trip to DC. Great stuff.

OK, on to the lies and truths & stuff.

1. About 15 years ago, I made it a habit of driving from southern New Hampshire up to Bar Harbor, Maine for a case of beer…in the middle of January…all in one day.

2. About 10 years ago, I was lucky enough to meet Tori Amos. She called me an ‘audiophile’! I put my right arm around her during the photo op and have not washed it since.

3. Even though I consider myself something of a foodie, one of my favorite foods is smelts.

4. I attended two Kiss shows, on two consecutive nights, during the Dynasty tour.

5. Most embarrassing show I’ve ever attended: Shania Twain.

6. I have an uncle who is a member of the Polka Music Hall of Fame.

Go ahead, spot the lies and truths…I dare ya!

In a move that might strike some people as bizarre, Pink Floyd got the courts involved because it did not want its record label, EMI, to sell individual Floyd tracks on iTunes. Amazingly enough, the band won. I say ‘amazing’ because it always seems like when individuals are pitted against business concerns, the individuals come out on the short end of the deal. Oh wait, this is England we’re talking about. Never mind. After seeing the details of the contract, it does appear that EMI stepped outside legal bounds.

Now back to the ‘bizarre’ thing — I can’t find fault with the artists. They conceived of (most of) their recordings as suites of tunes, spent a lot of time on the execution and recording of the music, and labored over the sequencing before releasing the final collection. If they want to keep the albums in tact, ensuring a complete listening experience, that’s well within’ their rights. I have to credit them for sticking to their principles. It’s hard for me to believe that they would have pulled in a ton of cash from digital singles sales. I dunno maybe they were throwing away a bunch of money. Can there really be that much pent-up demand for copies of “Money” and “Another Brick In The Wall, Pt II”?

EMI was of course trying to protect their own business interests, though their ham-handed approach was surprising. Their contention that the contract referred to vinyl albums only was just plain silly if you ask me. Apparently, the judge thought so too. On the other hand, maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised, given the insanity on display during the recent OK Go fiasco. Who exactly is sitting behind the desk at these companies anyway? Have they been sharing the lead paint chip jar with Glenn Beck?

Don’t take any of this as a screed against sales of singles. Though I’m not a big fan, I can see why people like them. They’re just not for me. As much as a great song is a great song all by itself, my tendency is to want to hear what else the artist can do, putting the song into its original context. I’ve also heard the argument that it’s better to pay 99 cents for one good track, while avoiding the 14 other tracks of filler. I’ve never fallen prey to the RestOfTheCdSucks phenomenon, but I do appreciate the listener’s point.

A recently article on Blogcritics heaped praises on the importance of the album. I do have to agree. The album was in its heyday while my inner music freak was forming, so it will always be with me. Still, there’s no reason that these two worlds (singles vs. albums) can’t easily co-exist. As long as the band has a say in the matter, I’m perfectly fine with it.

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First published at Blogcritics magazine

Sometimes, the history of music is full of surprises. Another way of looking at it: I’m surprised by my own ignorance. When I think of the South and old-time music, the blues, whites, and blacks, I tend to think of the musics as being mostly separated, with old-time music being a purely white phenomenon while the obvious African influence makes the blues a black speciality.

Except that ‘obvious’ influences don’t necessarily lock the outcomes into the simplest of endpoints. Country music and the blues are closely related, so overlap of both social issues and the music are inevitable. Duh!

Rhiannon Giddens, Dom Flemons, and Justin Robinson make me glad that the musical world has so many facets. They multi-talented musicians met at a gathering of black banjo players, and our ears are all the better for it.

The trio do some beatboxing, play banjos, guitars, autoharp, the fiddle, various bits of old-timey authentica (bones, jugs, kazoo), and can sing their asses off — especially Rhiannon, who has some opera in her past. While the Drops are paying tribute to music from another era, Genuine Negro Jig proves that the band has no intention of becoming the Black String Band Historical Society. A quote from Ms. Giddens says it all: “Tradition is a guide, not a jailer. We play in an older tradition but we are modern musicians.”

Indeed. Skip to the very end of the record for a fine reading of Tom Waits’ “Trampled Rose.” Now back up to “Hit ‘Em Up Style,” a ‘traditionalized’ take on Blu Cantrell’s R&B top 40 hit of relationship revenge.

As for the truly traditional material, it is all gorgeously rendered. “Trouble In Your Mind” stomps its way to the right philosophy, “Cornbread and Butterbeans” illuminates the simple life, and the slinky “Why Don’t You Do Right?” puts the lament on a misbehaving man. The title track, “Snowden’s Jig (Genuine Negro Jig),” is an instrumental with the fiddle taking the spotlight.

My first listen to this release had me convinced halfway through the opening selection, but it was Rhiannon Giddens version of “Reynadine” that totally knocked me out. I felt compelled to switch on ‘repeat,’ allowing the song to take up the better part of half an hour. On paper, you might not think that a traditional English ballad would fit in here. On the contrary, not only does it dovetail perfectly (while showcasing Giddens’ beautiful voice), but it serves as introduction to the closing Waits cover.

I’m hoping that this record will not only put the Carolina Chocolate Drops on the map, but will also draw new listeners in to the genres of old country and blues. It’s a big ‘ole world out there, one that still can manage to pull out a surprise.

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First published at Blogcritics magazine