Showing posts with label Neil Young. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Neil Young. Show all posts

Monday, December 27, 2010

The Best Albums of 2010

This is the second year that I’ve done a “Best of” round up, and while there were some outstanding releases in 2010, the pickings aren’t quite as deep as last year’s. In fact, the tail end of this year’s Top 20 would not have made the list in competition with 2009’s releases. That said, the albums in the upper echelon of this year’s list are just as good as the best of 2009.

As with all such lists, this Top 20 roundup is totally subjective, based on my personal interests and happenstance. And though I’d like to think my choices are informed by a wide-ranging, eclectic taste in music, I make no pretense that there’s adequate representation of any particular genre – especially hip-hop, electronica, jazz, heavy metal, or … well, lots of other things. (Much to my dismay, there isn’t even any Malian music making the cut this year; though I did consider Afrocubism, which would’ve garnered partial credit for the West African musical wellspring.) This 2010 list does feature new releases from a few old faves, new incarnations by several artists, and a new discovery or two.

So, here they are – roughly ranked, but not numbered – my picks for the 20 Best Albums of 2010:


Broken Bells Broken Bells – I received an advance copy of this in late 2009, so I got a bit of a head start (official release was in January 2010). That was a good thing since it took me quite a few listens to get into it. Once I did, however, it became one of my absolute favorites for the year. This is surprising, because it’s missing key elements that are usually critical to my embracing an album: First and foremost, interesting and prominent guitar – i.e., front and center, often vying with the vocals for primacy. There is guitar on this CD, but it never drives the tunes, it provides the hues, not the primary colors. One constant is prominent Hammond organ, though not always in its usual context. Synths, horns and strings fill out the sonic palette.

This is clearly a producer’s record (no surprise given the principle players: Gnarls Barkley’s Danger Mouse and The Shins’ James Mercer). And, in this case at least, that’s part of the appeal. It’s well constructed on all levels. The songs are multi-textured, yet built on simple, catchy hooks. So, paradoxically, it’s a collection of dense songs that you can hum a long with.

These two guys really know how to write and arrange potent pop songs, with some meaningful, captivating lyrics to boot. (“The High Road,” “The Ghost Inside” and “Your Head Is on Fire” are just a few formidable examples.) There may be one or two filler tracks, but the vast majority of the tunes on this record would be lead singles on other artists’ releases. In fact, “The Ghost Inside” is one of the best pure pop songs I’ve heard in years.

At times, Broken Bells evokes The Beatles, Pink Floyd and naught-decade pop. It can even sound like Tears for Fears (“Trap Doors”) or Squeeze (“Mongrel Heart,” even with it’s 007-ish intro riff); ironic since neither of those bands ever did much for me. On “The Mall & Misery” guitar tones right out of 1978 (think Talking Heads or The Buzzcocks) finally eek their way to the fore, concluding things with yet another strong melodic hook. But, overall, if you like lush instrumentation interwoven with catchy pop melodies, strong choruses and lyrics that are worth listening to, this is a record for you.


You Are Not Alone Mavis Staples – While I’ve long appreciated Mavis Staples and The Staple Singers, what made me buy this CD was the fact that it was produced by Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy, and that he believed enough in the project to talk it up quite a lot. However, I was not expecting the power of music, voice and message that gushes from the grooves – OK, not vinyl, no grooves, but plenty of soul! – on this album. Tweedy’s influence, while evident, is clearly secondary to Staples’ potent voice and devout gospel message. The music is just as divinely inspired. I’m a bit surprised, but in no doubt, that this is one of my absolute favorite records of 2010. Hallelujah! (See my previous full review of this CD here.)


Red Mark Cutler – Given that I’ve been profoundly impressed with nearly everything Mark Cutler has done for the past 25 years or so, there was little doubt that his new CD would be on this list. The telling fact, however, is that – long-time fandom aside – Red could easily be the very top of this list. Yes, it’s that good!

If you appreciate sophisticated, heartfelt and alluring songcraft; production that lets the songs breathe; and musicianship that is as good as anything you’ll hear on any big-bucks-backed recording session, this is IT … and I mean IT!

Cutler delivers songs that draw you in, make you think, reminisce, dream, appreciate, wonder and worry. Cinematic writers like Sam Shepard, Raymond Carver and others have little on this Rhode Island singer/songwriter when it comes to creating characters, setting and circumstance that intrigue, engage and evoke empathy. Musically, Cutler’s characteristic melodic sense is ever-present, but this time around there’s more emphasis on crystal clear acoustic sounds (guitars, mandolins, accordions) rather than the riff rock and barroom ballads of the Cutler’s past solo efforts and his work with The Schemers, The Raindogs and The Dino Club. Alternately melancholy, soulful and rootsy, Red’s nuanced narratives of worldwise hopefulness invite repeated listening and offer enduring appeal. (See my full review of this one here.)


The Grand Theatre Volume OneOld 97’s – I’m admittedly late to the party on the Old 97’s. Though I was familiar with some of their previous releases, as well as leader Rhett Miller’s solo work, I wasn’t truly hooked until I heard this album. Yes, it treads some of the same terrain as Toronto’s The Sadies, but this Texas quartet has plenty of company in the “Americana” bin filled with country/folk-influenced roots rock that always seems to trace back to Bob Dylan in some way, shape or form. The outstanding title track leading off this affair is a jaunty, folky-pop-rocker that declares: “We know where we are, we’re not very far away.” Indeed, it sounds to me like they’ve arrived.

The Old 97’s definitely have “a sound,” and while it’s more modern than you might guess, they are steeped in the trademark rock and country characteristics that readily suggest points of reference, familiarity and comparison. There are shades of Tom Petty (“Every Night is Friday Night Without You”), a touch of The Feelies (“Let the Whiskey Take the Reins”), and couple of quick excursions into the amphetamine-fueled country rock associated with the Georgia Satellites and others (“The Magician” and “The Dance Class”). Then there’s some leisurely meandering into the melodic baritone country/folk territory of Johnny Cash and Gordon Lightfoot (“You Were Born to Battle”). This is juxtaposed with some “helter-skelterish” touchstones of rock history on (“Please Hold On While the Train Is Moving”). There’s even an interesting re-write of Dylan’s “Desolation Row” in the form of “Champaign, Illinois” – not something you undertake unless you’re crazy, clueless or very confident. This band comes through with its credibility comfortably intact.


CrookedKristen Hersh – I’ve long been a fan of Hersh’s solo work. This latest CD is harder edged than I would have expected at this point in her career, but it’s still rife with familiar Hersh traits. Following on her early indie success with the Throwing Muses (which I was never all that taken with), she has put together an impressive, if underrated, string of solo albums (nine to be exact) over the past 15 years or so. This may be the best music she has ever done – right on par with her acclaimed 1994 release Hips and Makers. It’s artistically honest; at times literary, hallucinatory or confessional; and always moody and emotive. Strong arrangements and electric guitar embellishments mesh with propulsive acoustic guitars to move the listener along on the musical and lyrical journey, much of which revolves around the artist’s adopted home of New Orleans. Hersh’s girlish vocals contrast the edgy themes and unadorned raw guitar rhythms.

Though totally different in style, Kristin Hersh is to folky/indie-pop/rock what Lucinda Williams is to country/folk/blues. And like Lucinda, Kristin continues to improve with age. This is the under-the-radar standout album of the year by a female artist. It deserves to be this high on the list.


Initiate – The Nels Cline Singers – This one is a bit from left field, ­for me at least. Not being a big fan of improvisational jazz, I probably wouldn’t even know who Nels Cline was if not for his involvement in Wilco. That said, this album – actually two albums in one: a studio disc and a live concert disc – is musically captivating and artistically impressive. Despite the band’s name, there’s no singing going on here; it’s atmospheric instrumental music. But that doesn’t mean it’s sedate background music; far from it. While undeniably jazzy overall, the music gets quite cacophonous at times and, on occasion, recalls the experimental art rock of early Pink Floyd. There’s definitely a hint of the old Fillmore days in the air here. When not channeling a bit of Jorma (not to mention numerous jazz masters unbeknownst to me), Cline’s guitar gets Hendrixian in the artistic noise department. If you’re open to a little musical adventure, give this one a few listens.


Le NoiseNeil Young – Neil has made great “solo” albums before, but never one like this: raw, electric, stark, a little nostalgic, often pained and always heartfelt. Familiar themes abound, too: history, environmentalism, enduring love, hope and regret. Producer Daniel Lanois’ soundscape effects and sonic treatments provide a unique color to this affair – taking things out of the blue and into the black most of the time, I think. His efforts match Neil’s passion for the songs, be they the minimalistic grunge side of the equation or the melancholy ballad side.

Overall, the loose rawness of the proceedings leaves the final product sounding unfinished or almost demo-like. That’s fine by me, there’s something to be said for the power of the unfussed with, that capture of a creative instant – especially when you have Young’s proven abilities to channel the Muse. (I suspect that Neil understands the old adage about it being the artist’s job to be as open as possible and then stay out of the way.) Neil’s never been shy about experimenting, what’s amazing at this point is that he can still find new sonic terrain to explore and that he stakes his claim to it so authoritatively. (See my full review of Le Noise here.)


Band of Joy – Robert Plant – As far as the mainstream media goes, this one seems to have been a slow burner. It got respectfully warm, but hardly red-hot, reviews when it first came out. But now that the year is coming to a close, it seems to be popping up near the top of a lot of critics’ end-of-year lists. I give old Percy credit for continuing to avoid the easy and obvious in his musical pursuits. He seems to have hit upon some comfortably stimulating bonhomie with the predominantly Nashville folks he’s been hanging with since his blockbuster 2007 Raising Sand release with Alison Krauss. Krauss is not around this time (ably replaced by a more ready-to-rock Patty Griffin), but renowned session guitarist Buddy Miller is still on board, this time leading the band.

Performances on Band of Joy, so named after one of the singer’s pre-Zep bands in England’s Black Country, feature a variety of crossover-appeal friendly (though certainly not vanilla) covers of songs by artists ranging from Los Lobos (the single “Angel Dance”), Townes Van Zandt (“Harm’s Swift Way”) and Richard Thompson (“House of Cards”) to Low(“Silver Rider” and, my favorite track, “Monkey”). The music is atmospheric and perfectly matched to the different moods the singer conjures up on various tracks. Some of it (“Silver Rider” and “The Only Sound That Matters”) is nothing short of sublime. The vocals, while mostly understated, are distinctive and undiminished. This is not the Golden God Robert Plant, it’s the committed musical appreciator and collaborator Robert Plant who knows the gig is his, but is happy just to be part of a stellar band that’s having fun playing great songs. (See my full review of this one here.)


Wilderness HeartBlack Mountain – It’s really too bad this album did not receive more promotion. After two excellent previous efforts, this is the Vancouver band’s consistently best one yet. The consistency, however, is in the quality of the songs and performance; the music itself is all over the place – a good thing in my book (if done as well as it is here). Much more varied than their 2005 eponymous debut or 2008’s In the Future, Wilderness Heart has an undercurrent of ’60s’ psychedelia throughout, with additional smatterings of early ’70s heavy metal, grunge and even near-folk. The result is dynamic and arty with an edge.

While it’s easy to find comparative references to the band’s sound on this record, what’s especially intriguing is the multiple associations one can find even within just a few songs. Indeed, there are some interesting matchups: The Raconteurs, Page/Plant and The Black Crowes (“The Hair Song”); The Breeders, Steppenwolf, Queens of the Stone Age and the early Church (“Old Fangs”); and the Moody Blues, early Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin and Jon Langford (“Buried By the Blues”). Make no mistake, however, this does not come across as a derivative work. With engaging lyrics, strong arrangements and a good balance of atmosphere and aggression, Black Mountain has etched its own artistic monument on Wilderness Heart.


The Place We Ran FromTired Pony – This is the supergroup (of sorts) that few have heard of. A side project featuring Gary Lightbody (Snow Patrol), Peter Buck (R.E.M.), Scott McCaughey (R.E.M., Robyn Hitchcock and others), Jacknife Lee (producer of U2, Editors and others), Tired Pony’s debut release has received little mention in the music press. This is especially astonishing given how good the record is.

There’s something very thoughtful and weighty about these folky pop tunes. The lyrics (mostly by Lightbody) depict variations on emotional turmoil. Musically, it’s a collaborative affair, with the main players switching instruments frequently throughout. It doesn’t hurt that the principals are joined for cameos by notable friends and collaborators such as Zooey Daschanel, M. Ward and the uncredited Tom Smith (Editors).

Standout tracks include “Northwestern Skies,” with its rich vocals, chiming acoustic guitar and elegiac pump organ; the elegant vocal dance Daschanel and Smith undertake as pump organ weaves around the accompanying piano, guitars, bass and drums on “Get On the Road”; the Traveling Wilbury’s-ish “Dead American Writers”; the increasingly layered instrumentation on “I’m a Landslide”; and the Snow Patrol-meets-R.E.M. feel to Tom Smith’s other vocal appearance, “The Good Book.” [A quick aside: This latter song, one of the album’s best, is suggestive of what Smith’s band the Editors should’ve done on their 2009 release, rather than the ambitious, but ill-advised, synth-heavy affair that was In This Light and On This Evening.]

Yes, if you want to get picky, there are a few dicey moments when Tired Pony comes dangerously close to sounding like Coldplay, but overall the collective presents sophisticated songs with interesting, dynamic instrumentation, thoughtful lyrics and good production. There’s a very organic feel to the proceedings, like what happens when a talented group of musicians put ego aside and set the goal of spending some time writing and recording really good songs. … Mission accomplished.


Propellor TimeRobyn Hitchcock & The Venus 3 – Despite appearances to the contrary, I didn’t purposely place another Peter Buck side project in direct succession to the first one, it just worked out that way. And with good reason, they are both stunning albums. They’re considerably different, but with some unmistakable shared tonalities here and there. Robyn Hitchcock is something of an acquired taste, but within that context he’s produced a remarkably consistent catalog of quality work over the last 25 years or so. I’ve always thought Hitchcock has done what Syd Barrett might have done had he been born about 20 years later and not gone nuts. (For just one example here, listen to “John in the Air.”)

Propellor Time once again teams the eccentric English artist with half of R.E.M., going by the name of The Venus 3. There’s also the added talents of John Paul Jones (mandolin), Johnny Marr (guitar) and Nick Lowe (harmony vocals) on certain tracks. Not bad company! Together they produce folky psychedelic pop – par for the course for Hitchcock. Songs cleverly and entertainingly tackle themes of love, god, art and man’s foibles and neuroses – often in a Dali-esque manner. Understated but noteworthy string plucking – be it on guitar, mandolin or banjo – bolsters the whole affair from start to finish.

This is an album full of standout tracks: “The Afterlight,” with its William Burroughs meets Lou Reed spoken rhymes over an R.E.M.-style backing; “Luckiness,” a twisted country banjo- and mandolin-driven tune bent sideways with undercurrents of ’50s sci-fi sounds (musical saw); “Ordinary Millionaire,” a romantic ballad that channels Al Stewart; and the upbeat folky pop-rock of “Sickie Boy,” which recalls early R.E.M., The Church and George Harrison; and The Beatles cum Byrds country psychedelia of “Born on the Wind” … I could go on.


The Suburbs – Arcade Fire – This was some people’s pick for “Album of the Year” (Q magazine, for one). It is a well-conceived, well-executed song cycle. It definitely deserves a place among the year’s best; nowhere near number one, but that’s just my opinion – and this is my list! I do enjoy this release and readily see its merits, but I have a hard time declaring supremacy for this thematic, theatrical, music hall-ish, modern art rock genre as practiced by the likes of Arcade Fire, The Decemberists and others (is it something to do with northern climes?). While I give Arcade Fire credit for musical ambition and artistry, the bottom line is that, in general, the less thematically and theatrically contrived, but highly emotive music and songcraft of rootsy artists resonates more deeply with me. That said, The Suburbs is a well-developed affair. The music is varied, interesting and well arranged. The lyrics explore the concept with an insightful, contemplative multi-dimensionality that looks both backward and forward without simple nostalgia or predictable pessimism.


PalominoTrampled By Turtles – First there was speed metal, now there’s speed bluegrass. Yep, this string quintet from Dylan’s early stomping grounds (Duluth, Minn.) delivers thoughtful, well-executed original folk songs – often rendered at breakneck speed (you needn’t go beyond the first song for an example). That’s not to say they don’t deliver some more typical, old-timey takes on folk, country and bluegrass, too. Half of Palomino’s 12 tracks are fairly standard renditions of the genre. Nevertheless, the other half are raging barn-burners, and in one instance (“New Son/Burnt Iron”) a little bit of both.

It would be a misrepresentation to paint these Turtles as bluegrass punks or simply entertaining parodists like Hayseed Dixie. They are traditionalists, but with modern sensibilities. The players (mandolin, fiddle, banjo, guitar and bass) are accomplished, adventurous, complementary and congruous. The harmony vocals add depth and heft to the multi-stringed workouts. The songs, often left-leaning lyrically, are comfortably contemporary and remarkably varied – especially considering the same five instruments comprise all tracks. Besides the Dylan references, you might hear hints of The Beatles, The Band, Chet Atkins, Hank Williams, Del McCoury and other bluegrass legends in these otherwise very original tunes.

So, if you like you’re fiddle and mandolin music sometimes plaintive, sometimes frenzied, with guitars and banjos enthusiastically heeding the call whichever direction things are headed, then check out Trampled By Turtles and their latest release.


Who Killed Sgt. Pepper?The Brian Jonestown Massacre – It’s not easy being a fan of BJM. Albums are way off the popular radar, yet astoundingly good … when they’re not shoe-gazers. Concerts are brilliant and inspired (reportedly) … when they’re not self-obsessed, artistic train wrecks (witnessed). Nevertheless, I continue to be drawn to the band’s best recordings – I am a glass half-full kind of guy, after all! This latest release, their 10th since 1995, isn’t the band’s – OK, Anton Newcombe’s and his ever-changing carousel of cohorts’ – best, but it is certainly among their better ones.

The music is a creative, dense, drug-influenced amalgamation of ’60s psychedelia, mid-’90s British trance, bits of late ’80s-era New Order and Depeche Mode, and timeless Floydian experimentalism. In other words, it’s an elusive pagan concoction brewed in San Francisco, perfected in England and fermented in Iceland. Give it a listen, you’ll see.

Standout tracks include: “Let’s Go Fucking Mental,” a funky Celtic groove-fest crossbred with an English football chant; the pulsing dance/trance swirl of “This Is the First of Your Last Warnings” (complete with Icelandic vocals); the percussive tribal drug chant of “Someplace Else Unknown”; and “Super Fucked” (as opposed to what, just “basically fucked”?). Suffice to say, this is not an album for the faint of heart or easily offended.

The final track, “Felt-Tipped Pictures of UF0s” (a title that has no discernable connection to the 10-plus minutes of music it represents), begins as an elegiac exploration of John Lennon’s post “We’re bigger than Jesus Christ” controversy comments (authentic voice samples included) before mutating into a wholesale condemnation of rich rock star hypocrisy (“How the fuck could he sing, to me, about having no possessions?!”) – the latter delivered as only a pissed working-class Liverpudlian could. (So much for the “working class hero” mythology!) “Now it’s all this,” indeed.

Ultimately, Who Killed Sgt. Pepper? is lyrically entertaining at times and musically interesting throughout. And how can you not like a band that in live performance puts the tambourine/maracas-playing background singer on stage front and center?


Together The New Pornographers – Although this release is a little poppy for my taste, the songs are quite good and there’s some interesting instrumentation (especially the strings and horns). The arrangements are tight, the production is crisp and restrained. All told, Together hovers way above the masses of this year’s pop releases.

Given her solo success, Neko Case now brings star power to the band, and though some complain that there isn’t enough of her on this record, I didn’t find that to be the case. She exhibits her ability to carry the show on “Crash Years” and “Up in the Dark.” Yet, the band is not completely dependent on her contributions and here she is as effective when doubling or backing the lead vocal as she is when carrying it herself.

The record does get a bit theatrical sounding at times, but songs travel divergent paths and rather than sounding too alike or thematically conjoined, the best tracks sound like they could be successful singles by themselves. Catchy hooks abound (take “A Bite Out of My Bed,” for example), while soaring electric guitars (recorded backwards in a few instances) dart over bouncy rhythm guitars, the prominent foundation of keyboards and, in a few cases, the quasi chamber orchestra accompaniment. Not surprisingly, the vocals are strong throughout.

Outstanding tracks include “Your Hands Together,” which reminds me of Trevor Horn-era Yes; “Silver Jenny Dollar,” which channels Robyn Hitchcock; “Sweet Talk, Sweet Talk,” with its sprightly piano; and the impressive, nearly baroque pop of “We End Up Together.” All attest to the fact that this is a band that did, in fact, have it together when making this record.


Street Songs of Love Alejandro Escovedo – I had heard the critical raves for this album before I bought it. The praise was impressive, but then again, all of Escovedo’s music gets abundant critical support and while it has, indeed, been very well-crafted and listenable, it hasn’t always necessarily been that extraordinary – to me at least. Yet, upon listening to Street Songs of Love, I didn’t make it more than halfway through the first song before I began sensing something different about this new CD. It had a little more edge to it and a subtle extra oomph in the tracks. The rest of the album more than substantiated that moment of intuition. Sporting a swagger and robustness that at times recalls The Rolling Stones, Springsteen, Nick Lowe, Television, X, Dave Alvin and Los Lobos, this album is top-notch American roots rock. If you like catchy songs with rich production and rocking instrumentation, give this CD a listen.


MojoTom Petty and The Heartbreakers – This isn’t quite the blues album that early reports led me to believe it was. Based on the hype, you’d think TP and Co. were making a run for EC’s blues interpreter crown. That’s hardly the case. Not because this isn’t a good album, it’s just that a lot of it sounds fairly similar to what Petty and The Heartbreakers have been doing for years. Yes, there are a few outright blues tracks (about five of the 15 songs), and some of them are quite good (“Jefferson Jericho Blues,” “Lover’s Touch” and “Good Enough”). But this band has always played bluesy, bar-band style pop rock, and just because it has a pentatonic lead scale doesn’t make it “the blues.” Most of the tracks are simply blues-tinged rock, some with soul flavors and a couple with subtle reggae spices (“The Trip to Pirate’s Cove” and “Don’t Pull Me Over”).

Blues or not, the tunes are quite varied, with most tending toward slow to mid-tempo organ- and guitar-driven compositions. Some of my favorites include “First Flash of Freedom,” a slow-developing, atmospheric blues rock song; the upbeat, funky blues of “Running Man’s Bible”; and the tongue-in cheek 12-bar pop of “Candy.”

Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers have long been one of those bands I respected, but rarely listened to – tending instead to listen more to the older artists who influenced them or even the younger artist who were influenced by them. Mojo, however, is something I do listen to, and it has been a good reminder not only of how good Tom and his band can be, but how adept they are at taking well-established musical styles and putting their own stamp on them. This time out they clearly have it working.


Midnight Souvenirs – Peter Wolf – The Woofa Goofa can still sing, and with good song selection and masterful musicians there’s no way you can go wrong. Throw in a few “celebrity” duets (Shelby Lynne, Neko Case and Merle Haggard) and you’re bound to get some attention, even if you’ve been laying low for awhile. For this release, the former J. Geils frontman again draws upon Duke Levine’s alchemical Telecaster touch, and adds former Dylan sideman Larry Campbell and Kevin Barry, Duke’s frequent six-string sparring partner in Boston singer/songwriting legend Dennis Brennan’s band. So, suffice to say, the string department is in good hands. The rest of the crew isn’t too shabby either.

At times soulful, at times rootsy and Dylanesque, at times both (“Lying Low”), the dominant genre of this album is country, or at least Wolf’s take on country. That shouldn’t be a surprise given his backing band, but it also places more emphasis on the singer’s vocal chops than was the case with the funky r & b tunes he has focused on for much of his career.

It makes for some good listening, especially the bluesy rock of “Watch Her Move”; the atmospheric country soul of “There’s Still Time”; the jaunty shuffle of “Lying Low”; the slow ballad with Neko Case, “The Green Fields of Summer”; the familiar funk fold of “Everything I Do (Gonna Be Funky)”; and the melancholy country duet with Merle, “It’s Too Late for Me.” Mick Jagger wishes his solo albums were half this good.


Tin Can Trust – Los Lobos – The 18th release from the East L.A. quintet sounds about like you’d expect – i.e., solid – with a few surprises added to the roots-rock mix. The opening track sounds a bit like R.E.M. with its prominent country mandolin melodies, while “On Main Street” has subtle, slightly noir horns lurking in the background and a “Dancing in the Street” vibe. Then there’s the expected Espanol excursions: the jazzy samba sound of “Yo Canto” and Mexican party theme of “Mujer Ingrata.” The remainder of the tracks are variations on the blues, all executed with precision and passion: The spacey percussive blues of “Jupiter or the Moon,” the fierce Texas blues shuffle of “Do the Murray” (SRV is smiling somewhere), the smoldering blues of “All My Bridges Burning” and the acoustic folk blues of “The Lady and the Rose.” This is a party record in East L.A. … and everywhere else, too!


Destroyer of the Void ­– Blitzen Trapper – There are two ways to look at this album: As a standalone CD release compared to all the other releases of 2010, or as the Portland, Ore.-sextet’s follow up to their breakthrough 2008 album, Furr. Viewed in the former light, it merits designation as one the best albums of 2010. When compared, to Furr however, it pales in comparison. In fact, at points, it comes off like a semi-successful attempt to replicate Furr – usually not a formula for long-term artistic success. With three previous indie releases before “making it big,” however, the band does have the road cred and the chops to deliver in live performance as well as on record.

All the band’s trademarks are on display: the sophisticated sense of dynamics and song construction, the seamless fusion of acoustic and electric guitars with piano and synth, the impressive but never over-done rhythm parts, and vocal harmonies seldom heard since the days of CSN and Simon and Garfunkel. At times, though, the group relies too heavily on the proven paths of the past: For example, one of Destroyer’s stronger tracks, the hauntingly engaging “The Man Who Would Speak True” sounds an awful lot like a re-write of Furr’s “Black River Killer,” the band’s biggest hit to date. Likewise, “Evening Star” has a certain familiarity (“Gold for Bread” maybe?) in the verse phrasing and lead guitar part.

Nevertheless those are good songs, and it’s not all that way: The piano- and string-oriented “Heaven and Earth” explores all new spaces. “Dragon Song” introduces a funky rock rhythm and an atypically distorted lead guitar solo into the mix, fitting them to the characteristic BT vocal phrasing and melodic treatments. Meanwhile, “Love and Hate” flashes a bit more edge than the band usually wields. So make no mistake, overall, Destroyer of the Void is a fine album – indeed, one of 2010’s best. The main knock is that, as much as it seems to be trying to be, it’s no Furr. (See my review of Blitzen Trapper’s November 2010 headlining performance in Boston here.)


The Also-Ran Department

The only real near-miss this year: Massive Attack’s Heligoland.



Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Neil Makes Emotionally Raw ‘Noise’


If you’re a fan of Neil Young’s electric music of the last 20 years or so, you’ll probably like his new release, Le Noise. If you’re not a Neil fan, then chances are this album will remind you why.

Personally, I like it … a lot! I admire the experimentalism and rawness of the album, which is basically just Neil’s voice and his guitars (mostly electric) sonically treated with producer Daniel Lanois’ studio effects and sonic embellishments. While I’m a long-time admirer of Lanois’ work as an artist in his own right and as a producer of outstanding works by the likes of Dylan, U2, Emmylou Harris and others, there are few times on this CD when the recording effects are taken just a little too far – detracting from the essence of songs rather than enhancing them. That said, most of the time it works, and there’s no denying that Lanois’ soundscapes are a fundamental part of the album.

Raw and unfinished sounding at points, there’s a loose jam feel to the recording (though it’s Neil jamming with himself and Lanois’ recording console). Knob-twiddling aside, the focus of Le Noise is on the songs at their core – the chord progressions, the arrangements and the heartfelt and often very personal lyrics.

Neil Young’s recorded catalog has never been a happy-go-lucky affair. (On stage a number of years ago he joked, “I may sound really down in my songs, but don’t worry about me, I’m doing just fine.”) There’s a definite sense of melancholy running through Le Noise. At 64, the artist seems to be reflective, if not wistful; regretful and disappointed, particularly that the idealism of his hippie youth remains largely unfulfilled. There’s a tangible sense of loss, seemingly fueled by the passing of close friends.

Tonally, this is a serious sounding record. It’s resolute and passionate, but not quite dour, there’s too much energy in it for that. Neil’s brittle voice weaves in and out of his diminished chords, distorted sustain and delicate arpeggios with purpose, familiarity, comfort and (at times) hope.

I must admit, that my perspective on Le Noise is somewhat colored by the fact that, prior to its release, I heard Neil perform all but two of the songs during his “Twisted Road” solo tour last spring. That was an amazingly impressive concert (see my review). Even in Neil’s live rendering of these new tunes, there were a lot of the effects used to flesh out and color the spartan sound of just the man and his guitar. But on Le Noise, those effects are markedly more prominent.


Respected producer Daniel Lanois discusses the making of Le Noise. An interesting and insightful, if at times hyperbolic, view of how it all happened.


The album kicks off with the sonic assault of “Walk with Me,” a scene-setting artistic statement replete with distorted, sledgehammer, electric guitars and multi vocal effects that eventually lead to a bridge conjuring up Tommy-era Who before fading out with some low-key synthesizer blurbs. The layered effects work wonderfully on this song.

Less effective, though certainly not a total loss, is “Angry World,” one of only two Le Noise songs not performed during Neil’s spring/summer “Twisted Road” tour. It starts with a repetitive vocal effect, giving it an arty feel, before Neil’s typical electric guitar chording and riffing intercedes in support of thoughtfully catchy verse vocals. Unfortunately, the momentum is then fumbled by a chorus that is quite lame vocally and lyrically. (Even the repeatedly echoed “V-8” refrain can’t quite save it.) Thankfully, it’s the only such instance on the CD.

The remaining six tracks on Le Noise are all worthy additions to the Young canon. Among the stand outs are “Someone’s Gonna Rescue You,” the other non-“Twisted Road” tour song on the CD (though it would’ve fit that set nicely). It has undercurrents of vintage Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young in the rhythm guitar and classic high-pitched Neil vocals with gurgling sonics percolating just beneath the song’s surface.

The confessional travelogue/drug diary that is “Hitchhker,” a long-unreleased gem from 20+ years ago, was universally hailed as one of the highlights on “Twisted Road” and it’s rendered powerfully here. On Le Noise it’s more restrained, with a less dynamic guitar attack and less urgent vocal delivery. But even if it doesn’t quite match the live versions from earlier this year, it’s still a highlight of the album. It’s an entertaining and, ultimately, thought-provoking song. Raw and literal as it is, it alone is almost enough to make me really love this album.

Despite the distinct approach and consistent construction, Le Noise is no one-trick pony. Amid all the heavy sonic enhancements on the electric tunes, the album’s two acoustic songs stand out all the more potently in contrast.

The somber resignation of the Spanish cum country & western instrumentation of “Love and War” is reminiscent of Neil’s early ’90s Unplugged sessions – with its ringing reverbed acoustic guitar and a brief, slow hint of the riff in “My My, Hey Hey.” The refrain of “Daddy won’t ever come home again” is nothing short of heart-wrenching. Powerful stuff.

Meanwhile, a resonant acoustic riff gives a characteristic poignancy to “Peaceful Valley Boulevard.” Unlike the previous comparisons, this song is better on Le Noise than it was in concerts earlier this year. It’s yet another quintessentially Youngian tale connecting 19th-century western imperialism at the expense of Native Americans (“Change hit the country like a thunderstorm”) to current the ecological plight. (“Who’ll be the beacon in the night?” indeed.) It's dangerously close to preachy at points, but no doubt heartfelt and largely on the mark, in my view.

As a whole, the songs on Le Noise are raw shots of emotion rooted in nerves never far from the surface. But, because Neil Young is such a masterful craftsman and performer, they make for remarkably refined and highly rewarding listening. Le Noise is yet another example of the artist’s uncompromising vision and course. What he does next will undoubtedly be something completely different. That’s OK, too ... but there will always be Le Noise.


This is labeled “Le Noise: The Film” and it really is ... weighing in as a video companion to the entire CD. The video effects and distortions mimic the sonic embellishments of the CD and, overall, it represents an impassioned performance by Neil. And while the sound is excellent by YouTube standards, it still doesn’t do justice to the sonic depth of the CD release, on which the studio sorcery comes through more pronouncedly. On top of that, listening to the music while watching video accompaniment creates a very different overall experience than say, listening to the CD while driving in your car on a rainy night. Nevertheless, this is worthwhile viewing ... when you have 40 minutes to spare. (I’m guessing this will be released on DVD soon ... just before Christmas, perhaps?)


Postscript: I wonder why “You Never Call,” one of the poignant new songs featured on the “Twisted Road Tour” didn’t make the cut for inclusion on Le Noise. Maybe Neil thought it would’ve skewed the balance of the record further toward acoustic than he wanted this time around, or perhaps it was just too personal, dealing directly with the death of a long-time close friend and name checking his own son.


Sunday, May 23, 2010

Neil Young Visits New Dimensions



About three songs into Neil Young’s solo performance Friday night at the Hanover Theatre in Worcester, Mass., I was struck by the thought: “He has finally surpassed Bob Dylan.” Perhaps he did years ago, but the notion was undeniable in the moment given the power of his singular performance. And that was just the beginning of the show; I was even more convinced by the night’s end.

Despite his own iconic stature, Neil has forever seemed to labor (albeit prolifically) in the shadow of the quixotic troubadour from Hibbing. The Dylan canon is a formidable one to compete with – perhaps as much for its historical and social context as for the artistry itself (though I would argue on behalf of the artistry). Nevertheless, here I was listening to a sublime rendition of “Helpless” – just Neil’s shaky voice and his resonant acoustic guitar and I thought, “This is majestic … Dylan could never do this.” Bob needs his band. Neil, on the other hand, soars with or without accompaniment.

Of course, Neil has an incomparable catalog. Like Dylan, he’s had his highs and lows, his triumphant comebacks and head-scratching misfires. But one can argue (if so inclined) that while Dylan might still have the lead in career home runs, Neil beats him in OBP (on base percentage). So, if I was a GM reviewing my roster for this season and next, I’d have to go with the young(er) Canadian.

I don’t say this lightly, I’m a huge Dylan fan and I’ve seen him in concert well over a dozen times in the last 30 years. I’ve seen Neil less than half as many times over less than half as many years.

In most solo performances by musicians of Neil’s ilk, you simply get more intimate acoustic renditions of the artist’s greatest hits. Perhaps the arrangements are reworked a bit to give new life to the familiar. In Friday’s performance, however Neil gave whole new dimensionality to a number of his classics, especially the songs he performed on electric guitar without the crazy horsepower of his usual backing band. Songs like “Cortez the Killer” and “Down by the River” were not 20-minute feedback-laden jams – though Neil did coax some feedback out of Old Black (his trusty Bisgby-outfitted Gibson Les Paul) and his C.S.N.&Y.-era Gretsch White Falcon at points during the evening. For the most part, however, he relied on tight arrangements and creative use of vibrato, sustain and a few effects to reanimate these and other old favorites in thoroughly engaging ways.

What also made this 14-date solo tour – labeled “Twisted Road” and winding from Massachusetts to Texas – especially promising from the start was the prospect of Neil debuting some new music. In all, eight of the 18 songs in his set were new – and at least five or six of them were truly outstanding.

* * *

A deceptively minimal stage set provided plenty of visual ambiance to complement the rich timbre of the music. Subtle lighting provided dramatic effects when projected on a climbing-wall-like backdrop divided by a few monolithic pillars. The stage equipment was triangulated by three atmospherically lit keyboards: an upright piano at stage left, a vintage pump organ looming in the back and a white grand piano psychedelicized with orange and pink paint splatters to the right. In the middle, four small amplifiers were fronted by a chair for the seated acoustic performance and a mic stand and effects pedal board for the electric playing.

The night began with Neil casually strolling out, and sitting down to play a mic’ed acoustic guitar. Things got increasingly electric as the set progressed, and he was out of his seat, stalking the front of the stage before he finished the first few acoustic songs. More than half of the concert featured electric guitar, with a three-song keyboard segment two-thirds of the way through providing a brief break in the rocking.

The opening song was an understated rendition of “Hey Hey, My My,” followed by a somewhat more energetic version of “Tell Me Why.” By the third song, “Helpless,” Neil was on stride. “Helpless” is far from one of my favorite Young songs, but this highly emotive version was powerful and captivating in its languid lyrical delivery and melancholic harmonica lines.

Then Neil switched from the big Martin dreadnoughts to a smaller acoustic guitar with a pickup that changed the sonic palette for a series of powerful new songs. The first of these, “You Never Call,” is a hauntingly beautiful slow song reminiscent of some of Prairie Wind. It’s likely addressed to the singer’s late father – or possibly God (see comments for further interpretation of the song’s subject matter).

The haunting new melodies continued on “Peaceful Valley,” an engaging and quintessentially Youngian tale that evolved from a dissertation on the costs of pioneer-era Western expansion into a diatribe on contemporary moral and environmental armageddon. It poignantly culminated with the plaintive refrain: “Who’ll be the beacon in the night?”

The third new song in this mini minor-key triumvirate was “Love and War,” about the heartbreak of separation and loss and the musician’s futile perseverance in singing about the two topics of the title.

The introduction of electric guitar for the more familiar “Down By the River” provided a nice segue into the remainder of the set. The song wasn’t quite the same without the band crashing in behind Neil on the transitions, but it wasn’t meant to be. It held up well, nonetheless.

Next, came the musical high point of the night: the historically confessional “Hitchhiker,” in which Neil reflects on his journey from Toronto to California, from youthful indulgence to mature gratitude and contentment. Word is that this is an older unreleased track, but it was new to me. With swirling phaser effects on a churning electric guitar riff reminiscent of some the tracks Young did with Pearl Jam on 1995’s Mirror Ball, this one packed all the wallop of a full band. The insertion of a few lines from “Like an Inca,” from 1982’s Trans, was a nice added touch.

Next, Neil whipped out the White Falcon for a timely take on C.S.N.&Y.’s “Ohio” (it being the 40th anniversary of Kent State and all). The classic guitar riff and macabre recollection of Nixon and his tin soldiers was carried along by the crowd’s enthusiastic clapping. Neil did a particularly nice job singing this one, no easy feat without Crosby and Nash’s familiar vocal backing.

The next new song, “Sign of Love,” is a Mirror Ball meets After the Gold Rush slab of rock in which romantic verses about a lasting relationship are married to a bridge reminiscent of 1970’s “When You Dance I Can Really Love.”

Neil then began working his way around the horn of keyboards, starting with the upright piano for yet another new tune. Young introduced “Leia” as “just a little song about a little girl” (not a granddaughter, he said, correcting assumptions aired in the blogosphere). The songs nursery rhyme-like melody and precious vocal, though sweet in intention, did not make for particularly satisfying concert fodder.

Moving to the back of the stage, Neil grabbed a harmonica and worked the pump organ for another of the concert’s highlights, an elegiac rendition of “After the Gold Rush” that elicited rapturous applause from the audience. From there he proceeded to the grand piano, where he performed a beautiful Lennon-esque take on “I Believe in You” (must’ve been the white grand).

The somber mellowness of the three keyboard tunes provided an effective contrast to the electric bombast that came before and after. Once finished with the keys, Neil returned to Old Black for another new song, “Rumblin’,” which kicked off with a melodic guitar lick recalling The Waterboys’ “Rags” or early R.E.M. before delving into another of Neil’s trademark eco-conscious narratives: “The Earth is talking to me / To me, in many voices / I hear the rumblin’ in her ground ... When will I learn how to listen? / When will I learn how to feel? / When will I learn how to give back? / When will I learn how to heal?”

Jumping from the new take on a familiar theme to an old take on a lasting one (Native Americans), Young single-handedly galloped toward the climax of the set. He worked whammy-bar wonders with the Bigsby on a spare, but evocative version of “Cortez the Killer” (another of the night’s many highlights) before concluding with a rip-snortin’ run through “Cinnamon Girl.”

He returned for a quick encore, beginning with another White Falcon flight of distorted twang on “Walk with Me,” the last new song of the set. Once again, it was proof of why, after all these years, Neil Young remains the Godfather of Grunge – and he doesn’t even need any help.

The 95-minute performance concluded with my only disappointment of the night (and a minor one at that). In the previous two concerts of the tour, Neil had opened with the acoustic “My My, Hey Hey” and closed with the electric “Hey Hey, My My.” In Worcester, however, he dropped the heavy back bookend in favor of an acoustic strum through the poppy apex of his catalog: his 1972 No. 1 hit “Heart of Gold.” Well-performed though it was, and perhaps welcomed by his more “light weight” fans, the more hardcore among us missed the final thrash in the name of The King and Johnny Rotten.

Rare Treat

As if a great Neil Young performance alone wasn’t enough, an added treat – a big one to me, though unfortunately apparently not as much so to many in the audience – was the rare appearance of Bert Jansch as the opening act. The Scottish folk guitar legend was invited by Neil to open the tour, and next month he’ll be playing some shows out west with Neil’s wife, Pegi, who has a burgeoning solo career in her own right. (Click here for my brief review of Bert’s set.)


Full Set List – Worcester, Mass. (5/21/10)

• My My, Hey Hey

• Tell Me Why

• Helpless

• You Never Call (new)

• Peaceful Valley (new)

• Love and War (new)

• Down By the River

• Hitchhiker (new)

• Ohio

• Sign of Love (new)

• Leia (new)

• After the Gold Rush

• I Believe in You

• Rumblin’ (new)

• Cortez the Killer

• Cinnamon Girl

ENCORE

• Walk with Me (new)

• Heart of Gold



Bert Jansch Graces Worcester


Bert Jansch is making rare stateside concert appearances as a special guest on Neil Young’s current 14-date “Twisted Road” tour. Unfortunately, aside from hardcore guitar enthusiasts and British folk fanatics, few people seem to be aware of who Jansch is and how lucky we are to be graced with these appearances.

Neil knows. He has called Jansch the Jimi Hendrix of acoustic guitar and acknowledged the spikey fingerpicker’s early and lasting influence on his own playing. Bert’s unique stylings are readily heard in Neil’s early work with Buffalo Springfield as well as his award-winning 1993 Harvest Moon L.P.

Along with Davy Graham and Anne Briggs, Jansch was in the vanguard of the British folk movement of the 1960s. Without him, there wouldn’t have been a Fairport Convention, Nick Drake or his own jazz-folk-blues group Pentangle, among many others. Jimmy Page’s early acoustic guitar style draws heavily on Jansch’s seminal 1965 and 1966 albums, and Neil has admitted that his own “Ambulance Blues,” from 1974’s On the Beach, is derived directly from Bert’s style.

Jansch has recorded dozens of albums over the years, but stateside concert appearances have been rare. Apparently, it took the Neil’s esteem and influence to change that.

At Friday’s performance in Worcester, Mass., the nearly septuagenarian Scotsman, appeared surprisingly youthful and relaxed, decked out in blue jeans, a blue work shirt and incandescent white leather sneakers. The only indication of his advancing years was his departure from the stage after his set: he walked with the gait of a guy who has known back pain. His fingers were as fleet and fluid as ever, his voice rich and resonant.

I missed the first two songs of Jansch’s 35-minute set, arriving just in time to catch him running through his classic “Black Water Side” from 1966’s Jack Orion. This was followed by seven more smoothly rendered blues-tinged folk songs – part Davy Graham, part Big Bill Broonzy. As the crystal clear yet chunky acoustic guitar lines rung out through the hall, it seemed at times as if there were two guitarists on stage, interweaving intricate melodies behind the lilting vocals. Such is Bert’s musical magic. For me, the highlights, sprinkled among a few lesser-known tunes, were Jackson C. Frank’s “Carnival” and Bert’s own “Poison” ... but it was all good.

The Worcester audience was politely enthusiastic during Jansch’s set, but clearly not that aware of the opener’s legendary stature. It was just short of heartbreaking to hear Bert only somewhat facetiously thank the crowd for not throwing things at him as he wrapped up his performance.

For his part, Neil attempted to clue the crowd in during his set: “I hope that you appreciate and realize how lucky you are to hear Bert Jansch,” he said. “It’s a real pleasure to appear on the same stage as him.”

The pleasure was all ours.

(Click here for my review of Neil’s performance.)



This video of Bert performing “Black Water Side” is from about 30 years ago. Jimmy Page borrowed heavily (to put it mildly) from Bert’s rendition of this traditional folk tune for his slightly more Indian-flavored version, “Black Mountain Side,” on the first Led Zeppelin album. Questionable song attribution aside, Page (like Neil Young) has readily admitted Jansch’s huge influence on his playing in interviews over the years.


FURTHER
• Since 1965, Bert Jansch has released dozens of albums under his own name and with his group Pentangle. Of the solo material, my favorites are Jack Orion (early period), Rosemary Lane (middle period) and The Black Swan (later period).

• Bert Jansch’s website has more background and his MySpace page has some streaming audio samples.