Category Archives: Five Stars

Various Artists: Let Freedom Sing

various_letfreedomsingPerfectly timed musical anthology of the civil rights movement

Two years ago, just when then-Senator Barack Obama was announcing his run for the highest public office in the U.S., the producers at Time Life began work on this stupendous 3-disc, fifty-eight track collection. Scheduled in celebration of February’s Black History Month (and in conjunction with a PBS/TV-One documentary), the set gains an indelible exclamation point from the inauguration of President Obama as the 44th chief executive of the United States of America. Throughout these fifty-eight tracks one can hear spirit, belief, faith, fear, sadness, hope and empowerment that were an inspirational source from which participants in the civil rights movement drew strength and a narrative soundtrack of historical events.

The fluidity with which music intertwines daily life makes it more of a people’s art than other performance media, self-sung as field hollers and church spirituals, passed as folk songs by troubadours, and saturating the ether of popular consciousness through records, radio, television and movies. Music is an accessible medium for documenting one’s times, creatable with only a human voice as an instrument. Like speech, music can both record and instigate, but unlike speech, musical melodies readily anchor themselves in one’s memory, forever associated with a time or place or person or event. That duality allows this set to play both as a public chronology of historic events and, for those old enough to have been there, a personal history of one’s emotional response.

The set opens a few years before America’s entry into World War II with the a cappella spiritual “Go Down Moses,” the dire reportage of “Strange Fruit” and the protest of “Uncle Sam Says.” The ironies of post-war America continued to be questioned in “No Restricted Signs” and “Black, Brown and White,” but as the ‘40s turned into the ‘50s, the tone became more direct, and at times angry. Historic court decisions and watershed protests intertwined with horrific killings, and this was reflected in the documentary tunes “The Death of Emmett Till, Parts 1 & 2” and “The Alabama Bus,” and the questing lyrics of The Weavers’ “The Hammer Song” and Big Bill Broonzy’s “When Do I Get to Be Called a Man?”

The set list follows a rough chronology of recording dates, but the thematic flow paints the more circuitous route of gains and setbacks, hopes and disappointments, triumphs and retrenchments that highlighted and pockmarked the movement’s progress. The turbulence of 1965, the year of Malcolm X’s assassination, provides a particularly keen microcosm of the conflicts, segueing the righteous protest of J.B. Lenoir’s “Alabama Blues” with The Dixie Hummingbird’s temperate ode “Our Freedom Song,” and matching the cutting irony of Oscar Brown, Jr.’s “Forty Acres and a Mule” with The Impressions’ compassionate call “People Get Ready.”

The last half of the sixties offered up beachheads in Aretha Franklin’s “Respect,” James Brown’s “Say It Loud – I’m Black and I’m Proud,” Sly & The Family Stone’s “Stand!,” and Lee Dorsey’s pre-Pointers Sisters original “Yes We Can, Part 1.” At the same time, assassinations and riots yielded John Lee Hooker’s “The Motor City is Burning” and George Perkins & The Silver Stars’ funereal “Cryin’ in the Streets, Part 1.” At the turn from the 60s into the 70s the movement seemed unstoppable, inciting Motown to veer into social commentary with The Temptations’ “Message From a Black Man,” provoking the Chi-Lites to editorialize with “(For God’s Sake) Give More Power to the People,” and launching Curtis Mayfield’s solo career with deep thinking, adventurous productions like “We the People.” Mayfield would be joined by Marvin Gaye with the release of What’s Going On, and the catalog of injustice and angst “Inner City Blues (Make Me Wanna Holler).”

The momentum continued in the ‘70s, but not without opposition, anger and dissent. Gil Scott-Heron provides a stream-of-consciousness news report from the frontlines with “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” the Undisputed Truth’s “Smiling Faces Sometimes” displays caution bordering on paranoia, and Aaron Nevill’s “Hercules” is both paranoid and pessimistic. The embers of empowerment still burned, as heard in Bob Marley’s “Get Up, Stand Up,” which pairs nicely with the collection’s earlier reggae tune, a cover of Nina Simone’s “Young Gifted and Black.” The set jump-cuts from the soul sounds of the O’Jays’ “Give the People What They Want” to the hip-hop works of the Jungle Brothers’ “Black is Black,” Chuck D’s “The Pride” and Sounds of Blackness’ “Unity.” Disc three includes new works by old masters Solomon Burke and Mavis Staples, but omits key figures of the ‘80s and ‘90s such as Public Enemy, KRS-One, and Mos Def. The set closes with the gospel spiritual “Free at Last,” answering the call of disc one’s opener.

These events, stories and lessons resonate against an evolving palette of musical forms – doo-wop, jazz, gospel, blues, soul, rap – pioneered by African Americans in parallel with the civil rights movement. The pairings of stories and sounds tell an indelible story of faith, belief, empowerment and spirit. The producers have mixed little-known gems with the movement’s hits, providing much deserved exposure to the former and much welcomed context to the latter. Production quality is top-notch, with sharp remastering, an introduction by Chuck D, and Grammy-worthy liner notes by Colin Escott that interweave song details and historical moments. Disc one is mono, except tracks 11, 13-18; disc two is stereo, except tracks 1, 3, 5, 7, 8, 11, 12, 14, 21; disc three is stereo. This is a fantastic music collection that doubles as the soundtrack to a history lesson. [©2009 hyperbolium dot com]

Listen to Let Freedom Sing, Disc 1
Listen to Let Freedom Sing, Disc 2
Listen to Let Freedom Sing, Disc 3
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The Who: Meaty Beaty Big and Bouncy

who_meatybeatybigandbouncyThe Who’s first stateside Greatest Hits album

In the wake of The Who’s triumphant showcase at Woodstock and the releases of Tommy and Who’s Next, Decca released the group’s first U.S. hits collection in time for Christmas of 1971. The fourteen sides stretch from the group’s first single under the Who banner, 1965’s “I Can’t Explain,” to their last studio A-side before Who’s Next, 1970’s “The Seeker.” In between are landmarks such as “My Generation,” “I Can See for Miles,” “The Magic Bus,” and “Pinball Wizard,” that cover everything from the group’s early pill-fueled mod-rock to the visionary work that had run through The Who Sell Out and Tommy, and would fuel Who’s Next and Quadrophenia. Two John Entwistle tunes (“A Legal Matter” and “Boris the Spider”) complement a dozen from Pete Townshend, and the inclusion of several non-LP singles (“I Can’t Explain,” “Pictures of Lily,” “The Seeker,” “Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere,” “Substitute,” and “I’m a Boy,”) and the use of original mono mixes give this collection a terrific AM radio punch. Everything here is mono except for tracks 4, 7, 9, 11, 12 and 14. Unfortunately this CD edition doesn’t fully replicate the experience of the original vinyl: the LP’s mono “Boris the Spider” is replaced here with stereo, and the 4-1/2 minute stereo version of “The Magic Bus” is replaced here with a shorter edit. Assumedly the master reels for the album had to be reassembled, and a lack of original masters forced the substitutions. A dozen Who anthologies have been issued since this album’s 1971 release, and while they have the advantage of post-Tommy material, they lose this set’s crisp focus on the Who as a mid-60s rock ‘n’ roll singles band. This collection is no substitute for the group’s albums, but as an artifact of the Who’s first six years, it provides a rock solid essay on the talents of Daltrey, Entwistle, Moon and Townshend. [©2009 hyperbolium dot com]

Waylon Jennings: The Essential 3.0

waylonjennings_essential30Eco-friendly expansion of stellar career overview

Several of Legacy’s two-disc Essential releases have been upgraded with a third-disc and plastic-free eco-friendly packaging. Such is the case for the original 42-track 2007 issue of this set, augmented here with eight additional tunes on a third disc. Although disc three clocks in at only 26 minutes, it adds several tracks that, in retrospect, should have been included in the original line-up. Highlights of the newly added tunes include a live version of Jimmie Rodgers “T For Texas,” Jennings’ superb cover of the Marshall Tucker Band’s “Can’t You See,” the autobiographical 1981 hit “Shine,” the chart-topping cover of Little Richard’s “Lucille (You Won’t Do Your Daddy’s Will),” and the title track from the Highwaymen’s first album. This isn’t collector’s bait intended to lure fans into repurchasing the Essential set – all of the newly added tracks are (or have been) available on CD – it’s sweetener to a set that’s already quite sweet. The original two-disc version of this title provided a superb overview of Jennings’ career, with a deep focus on his most productive years at RCA. The first two discs are reproduced here verbatim from the original release, as is the booklet’s excellent liner notes, recording details and chart info; the eight new additions are detailed on the inside of the four-panel cardboard slipcase, along with four full-panel vintage photographs. At the same list price as the original two-disc version, this is a terrific upgrade to a terrific set. [©2008 hyperbolium dot com]

Hayes Carll: Trouble in Mind

hayescarll_troubleinmindWitty, arch and funny hard Texas country

Carll continues to make good on the deep Texas songwriting talent demonstrated on two previous albums. For this third release he moves onto the Lost Highway label, and picks up the considerable backing talents of Fats Kaplin, Darrell Scott, Will Kimbrough, and Dan Baird and others. Better yet, producer Brad Jones and engineer Mark Addison spend that instrumental firepower in support of Carll’s vocals and his witty, incisive lyrics. While some may prefer the more primitive sound of his earlier albums, in retrospect they sound like demos for this more fully realized outing.

The restlessness of Steve Earle courses through Carll’s narratives and keenly observed portraits, but so does the irascible spark of Charlie Robinson and the tongue-in-cheek pathos of rock musician Ben Vaughn. The latter’s wit is mirrored in the story of love lost to salvation, “She Left Me for Jesus” and the performing musician’s litany of horrors, “I Got a Gig.” Carll’s drawl collides with the freewheeling blues and nasal syllables of Dylan’s “Rainy Day Women #12 & #35” on “A Lover Like You,” with the word ‘lover’ drawn as if Tennessee Williams’ Maggie the Cat sang ragged country blues. Carll stays sly, though his lyrics aren’t always joking. “Don’t Let Me Fall” pleads for forgiveness and support in the wake of moral failure, and his cover of Tom Waits’ “I Don’t Wanna Grow Up” is both petulant and preternaturally knowing. The rasp in Carll’s voice can express resignation, dissipation, irreverence, cynicism and ire, but it always seems to be balanced with a wounded poet’s optimism. The break-up of “It’s a Shame” is mourned for the hope of what could have been rather than the loss, and Tom Waits’ romantic Bowery sentiments are translated into rural images on “Beaumont.”

The album’s cover art reaches back to Merle Haggard’s early Capitol albums, but Carll’s not as inconsolably self-deprecating as The Hag, and the twangy mix of instruments covers more ground. There’s plenty of fiddle and steel, but also baritone guitar, six-string electric leads, harmonium, banjo and mandolin, and it’s all deftly woven into backings that are modern in reach but traditional in effect, practiced in their looseness and anchored by the emotional abrasion of Carll’s voice. Fans of Van Zandt, Earle, Nelson, Kristofferson, Shaver, Waits, Bruce & Charlie Robison, and Chris Knight will find much to love here. [©2008 hyperbolium dot com]

Hear “She Left Me For Jesus”

Glen Campbell: Meet Glen Campbell

glencampbell_meetBrilliant update of country-pop legend

In contrast to Johnny Cash’s stark reinvention at the hands of Rick Rubin on the American Recordings series, the cheekily titled Meet Glen Campbell sets out to simply reintroduce a legendary artist to contemporary audiences. Co-producers Julian Raymond and Howard Willing are quite obviously steeped in Campbell’s classic hits and sound, and rather than reframing him in something stark or contrasting, they find relevancy in contemporary material and beautifully constructed arrangements that blend guitars, bass, drums, banjo, mandolin and strings. The layered instruments push the songs forward with soaring strings, shuffling country-pop rhythms, and background washes that give this release an updated sound without trying to completely recast its star. Campbell’s voice is mixed further forward than on many of his classic hits, and he sounds remarkably at home atop non-Nashville production that perfectly blends acoustic and electric instruments. This is pop music in the vein of Campbell’s iconic recordings of Jimmy Webb’s songs, mixing craft and roots for the broadly accepting top-40 of four decades past.

The album’s ten tracks are carefully selected from the catalogs of well-known modern pop artists, and adapted with flourishes of Campbell’s earlier work. The rolling rhythm of “Gentle on My Mind,” for example, is added to a cover of Tom Petty’s redemptive “Angel Dream,” and the dramatic strings introducing the Foo Fighters’ “Times Like These” play upon the original opening of “Wichita Lineman.” Among the album’s highlights is a cover of Jackson Browne’s “These Days,” on which Campbell seems to reflect wearily on the chaos of his earlier years, and finds a modicum of satisfaction in simply having lived through it all. The arrangement of strings and acoustic guitars takes a cue from Nico’s 1967 version, but Campbell’s lengthy career and public life resonate deeply with the lyrics. The Replacements’ “Sadly Beautiful” is arranged with strings in place of the original volume-controlled guitar counterpoint, and ‘70s soft-rock fans will recognize the underlying guitar vibrato from Bread’s “If.” Campbell’s shell-shocked reading of Paul Westerberg’s sorrowful lyrics is supported by layers of acoustic guitar, strings, keyboards and backing vocals. Even the Velvet Underground’s “Jesus” is made to reflect Campbell’s tumultuous history, recast from a libertine’s consideration to an elder statesman’s plea.

If there’s a weakness to the album, it’s the lack of new material. The all-covers format leaves listeners to compare Campbell’s versions to the originals, rather than providing an opportunity to introduce definitive interpretations. Thankfully, many of the selections are pulled from albums rather than hit singles, and avoid the novelty of a mature artist trying to look hip. Even when Campbell does remake an icon, such as Tom Petty’s “Walls” or Green Day’s “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life),” the songs are given new life from Campbell’s classic sound. “Walls” opens with the sort of orchestral attack that cued the vocal of “Galveston” and “Good Riddance” is turned into a shuffle that’s equal parts country and modern pop. Campbell’s return finds his skills as a vocal interpreter undimmed, and his producers amplify his native talent with cannily picked songs and deftly arranged productions. [©2008 hyperbolium dot com]

Hear “Sadly Beautiful”

Sly & The Family Stone: The Essential 3.0

Eco-friendly expansion of effective career overview

Several of Legacy’s two-disc Essential releases have been upgraded with a third-disc and plastic-free eco-friendly packaging. Such is the case for the original 35-track 2003 issue of this set, augmented here with eight additional tunes on a third disc. Although the third disc clocks in at only 32 minutes, it adds an additional track from each of Dance to the Music, Life, Stand!, There’s a Riot Goin’ On, Fresh, and Small Talk. Nearly fourteen minutes of the bonus disc is taken up by the funk instrumental “Sex Machine,” but more impressive is the group’s tour de force cover of “Que Sera, Sera (Whatever Will Be, Will Be).” The set’s booklet is a straight reproduction from the original release; the third-disc’s extra songs are credited on an inside panel of the quad-fold digipack.

The bulk of the collection as originally issued surveys tracks from the group’s 1967 debut LP A Whole New Thing through Sly Stone’s 1975 solo album High On You. Left out is the 1976 reunion album Heard Ya Missed Me, Well I’m Back and later albums recorded for Warner Brothers. The selections weigh more heavily to the group’s peak mid-period albums, with the group’s last first-run album Small Talk represented by only two cuts, and Stone’s solo album only one. For most fans this will be a welcome balance, leaving room for a trio of group-defining hit singles (“Hot Fun in the Summertime,” “Everybody is a Star” and “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)”) that turned up on the 1969 Greatest Hits album. What’s missing, and what might have made the bonus disc more attractive to collectors, is material not readily available elsewhere on CD.

The forty-three selections provide a representative sampling of tracks from the group’s seven Epic albums (eight if you include Greatest Hits), creating both a one-stop shop for those who want to get to the core of the band’s legendary blend of soul, funk, jazz, rock and psychedelia, and a roadmap for those who want to explore the original releases. The 12-panel foldout booklet provides cursory discographical and chart details, a personnel listing, a few photos and disappointingly generic liner notes. [©2008 hyperbolium dot com]

The Mojo Men: Not Too Old To Start Cryin’ – The Lost 1966 Masters

Superb cache of mid-career garage/pop/folk/psych demos

The San Francisco-based Mojo Men are best remembered for their top-40 hit cover of Stephen Stills’ “Sit Down, I Think I Love You.” By the time that ornate 1967 single was released, the original group had recorded several bravado-filled sides for Tom Donahue’s Autumn label, fallen out with their drummer, picked up former Vejtables drummer/vocalist/songwriter Jan Errico, and recorded these demos before recording for Reprise. To be fair, “demos” is a coarse description given the recordings’ sparkling studio quality and the care lavished on the vocals and overdubs. But even though many of these tracks rival their output on Autumn and Reprise, the sessions were used to work out new material, showcase the band’s songwriting to their new producers, and to suggest outside material that might be suitable. The only aural artifact that really suggests “demo” are hotly mixed vocals that don’t always lay firmly in the instrumental backings.

The addition of Jan Errico had a noticeable impact on the band’s sound, pulling them in more melodic directions and adding a folk-rock vibe to numerous tracks. The macho sentiments of the group’s earlier “She Goes With Me” may not have fit the new lineup (though they did essentially reprise their earlier “Dance With me” on “There Goes My Mind”), but Errico could sing with full-throated force. The vocal attack of “What Kind of Man,” for example, sounds like a midway point between the sharp verbal punctuation of Mary Travers and the snotty garage attitude of Paula Pierce. Errico and bassist/vocalist Jim Alaimo made a solid rhythm section, and their voices blended into winning harmonies. The group could equally well rock a primitive Bo Diddley beat for “’Til I Find You” as they could take it down tempo for the ballad “Don’t Leave Me Crying Like Before.”

The influence of former Autumn labelmates The Beau Brummels is heard on “Is Our Love Gone,” and a cover of Jay and the Americans’ “She Cried” adds fine group harmonies. Several of Alaimo and Errico’s originals were re-recorded for later albums, but many more are only heard here. These mid-career recordings fit perfectly between the garage rock of the Mojo Men’s Autumn sides and their more polished Reprise recordings, and are sure to enthrall fans of either. Big Beat’s “West Coast Promotion Man” Alec Palao offers up top-quality liners and photos from his personal archives to round out a stellar package. [©2008 hyperbolium dot com]

Hank Williams: The Unreleased Recordings

As good as Hank Williams got

It’s rare that an artist who’s been turned into an icon can ever again be seen in mortal form. But such is the case for the Hank Williams heard on these three CDs of transcriptions from 1951. With these fifty-four previously unreleased tracks, the dark saint of country music is delivered from fifty-five years of canonization as a hard-working musician striving to please his audience. Williams’ much anthologized commercial recordings will forever keep his star aloft, but these newly released live-in-the-studio renderings, waxed under the sponsorship of Mother’s Finest for radio broadcast, crackle with a level of intensity and vocal clarity not always captured in MGM’s studios. Best of all, 1951 was a “career year” for Willliams, a year in which his artistry and superstardom hit simultaneous peaks. The crush of fame drew him repeatedly to the road and exacerbated the need to pre-record his 15-minute shows for Mother’s Best, rendering into lacquer a one-of-a-kind portrait of Williams as artist and entertainer.

Williams filled each fifteen minute program with his own classic songs as well as numerous covers. Chestnuts like “On Top of Old Smokey” are lit up with emotional fire, and his soaring solo vocal on “Cool Water” resounds with the drama of thirst and relief. A large helping of hymns are equally impressive as Williams and his Drifiting Cowboys testify in close harmony, and the recitations of alter ego Luke the Drifter are recounted on “Pictures from Life’s Other Side.” The portrait drawn includes details of Williams’ influences, but it’s the picture of a living, breathing performer that’s so breathtakingly compelling. The ephemeral nature of these recordings – they were intended to be aired on the radio with no thought of commercial issue – renders the mood more relaxed than was routinely fostered in a regular studio date. The sheer volume of material Williams performed (this is only the first of several sets that will cover these recordings) creates a looseness that unwinds the fabrications of the recording industry. Williams’ aside, “I like this one,” as he launches into the fourth verse of “Dear John” is a humanizing touch that shows how comfortable he was with other writers’ material, and how easily his charm translated to the stage.

Time-Life has cherry-picked the original shows, rather than providing raw transfers of the transcription discs. Listeners get a taste of the original shows’ continuity through snippets of song introductions, but the bulk of Williams’ patter has been trimmed away in favor of musical selections. The non-chronological ordering also dispels the shows’ original performance arcs, but the producers have sequenced their picks terrifically and the overall result yields a superior experience for most listeners. These choices may displease archivists, completists and old-time radio fans, but Time-Life no doubt figured this approach would have the broadest appeal, helping defray the cost of securing reissue rights and remastering the original discs. Perhaps a full program could be released separately or included as a bonus in one of the upcoming releases of additional Mother’s Best material.

Other than minor audio artifacts on a few tracks (e.g., a crackle in the background of “I Dreamed That the Great Judgment Morning”), the sound quality of these recordings is simply astonishing, with Williams’ voice clear and edgy, his band evenly balanced behind him, and steel player Don Helms and fiddler Jerry Rivers prominently featured in the mixes. Though primitive, the direct-to-disc technology used in 1951 captured the live sound with brilliance and clarity. The transfers (by Alan Stoker) and restorations/remasterings (by should-be Grammy-winner Joe Palmaccio) are superb, and Jett Williams’ introductory notes provide a quick history of the original acetates and the lawsuits that have swirled around them. Colin Escott’s liner and song notes are detailed and informative, and the 40-page booklet (which is unfortunately stapled into the folder) is beautifully designed and filled with photos.

These are among the best performances Williams ever laid down on record, and among the truest recordings anyone ever made of him. You could remove “among” and still be right. Given Williams’ acclaim and the scrutiny given to his career, it’s mind-boggling that these discs were bottled up for nearly sixty years. This set is so musically riveting and artistically revealing as to obsolete traditional hit compendiums as the best introduction to Williams’ genius. An emotional veil has been lifted between Williams and his fans; a veil previously unknown to all but those fans who were by their radios in ’51. [©2008 hyperbolium dot com]

Johnny Cash: Johnny Cash’s America

Superb Johnny Cash biographical documentary DVD and CD

Morgan Neville and Robert Gordon’s Johnny Cash documentary premiered on the U.S. Bio channel in late October, accompanied by this DVD/CD package, Johnny Cash’s America. The DVD includes the full 90-minute documentary alongside several video extras. The CD collects eighteen full-length performances of songs heard in the documentary, five of which were previously unreleased. The core documentary strings together archival footage of Cash in performance, television specials and documentaries, supplemented by interviews with family and musical associates, authoritatively answering the questions posed by the film’s narrator: “How did events shape Cash? And what did he reflect back on to the country? How can one speak his mind, without losing his voice?” Cash’s story is told in chronological order, starting with the hardscrabble Arkansas roots at the very core of his character. Cash’s earliest years are described by childhood friends and remembered by Cash in a filmed return to his first home.

Cash’s recording career, from Sun Records to Columbia to his last works with Rick Rubin provide the soundtrack to a life that’s both a product of America and an influence woven into the tapestry of the country he so vocally loved. Cash is shown as an artist who stuck resolutely to his vision, such as when he lampoons the notion he’d replace Elvis as the King departed to RCA. Clips of Cash communing with Bob Dylan in the studio recording Nashville Skyline and a roll call of non-Country artists featured on his primetime television show further demonstrate the breadth of his musical vision. As far as Cash managed to stretch the ears of his fans, he stretched their minds even further. In lending his voice to the plight of Native Americans and prisoners, and in offering forthright discussions of his own drug use (“I was taking the pills for awhile, and then the pills started taking me”), he repeatedly showed a willingness to challenge the status quo. His performances of “The Ballad of Ira Hayes” and his own “What is Truth” at the Nixon White House (in lieu of Nixon’s request for “Welfare Cadillac”) found him speaking truth to the ultimate American power. Cash’s unabashed patriotism played out in both flag waving and a stern criticism, as he saw fit.

hough music was clearly one of Cash’s saviors, there were several human agents whose strength helped him wrestle with his demons. June Carter Cash is shown as the rock upon which Cash’s initial rescue from drugs was founded, Billy Graham helps him along in his rebirth as a Christian, and producer Rick Rubin revives his career with an introduction to a new youth audience. At each turn, it’s Cash himself who summons the strength to change and move on, but over and over there’s a catalyst setting him in motion. Neville and Gordon’s timeline is augmented with numerous clips and comments that provide viewpoint beyond mere facts, explaining what events and people meant within the context of Cash’s life, and what Cash’s life meant within the context of the times in which he lived. The directors expose the roots of Cash’s broad empathy, and create a story that may be less of a drama than the biopic Walk the Line, but is no less dramatic.

Interview subjects include Cash’s sister Joanne, daughters Cindy and Rosanne, son John Carter, and friends, associates and fans that include Al Gore, Snoop Dog, Sheryl Crow, Bob Dylan, Kris Kristofferson, Loretta Lynn, Marshall Grant, Senator Lamar Alexander, Jack Clement, John Mellencamp, Steve Earle, Merle Haggard, Vince Gill, Jon Langford and John Mellancamp. The CD’s previously unreleased tracks are a pair of tunes recorded in Hendersonville (1969’s “Come Along and Ride This Train” and 1974’s “I Am the Nation”), and a trio of live recordings (1970’s “What is Truth” from the White House, 1971’s “Children, Go Where I Send Thee” from Denmark, and “This Land is Your Land” from Cash’s television show). The DVD’s twenty-three minutes of extras include additional interview clips, a 1961 television performance of “Five Feet High and Rising” from Star Route USA, color home movies from Cash’s 1972 performance at the White House, television outtakes of Cash delivering his trademark “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash” over and over and over, and documentary footage of the Cash family visiting Johnny’s childhood home. Buy this to watch the documentary, keep it to enjoy the fine selection of Cash classics and rarities. [©2008 hyperbolium dot com]

OST: Soul Men

Sweet soul music soundtrack celebration

Bernie Mac’s final film (he passed away August 9th, 2008) teams him with Samuel L. Jackson as partners whose soul music careers and friendship dissolve with the departure of their group’s lead vocalist, played by real-life soul singer John Legend. The film follows their cross-country trip to a reunion twenty years later to the funeral of their former lead singer, and lines the way with superbly reworked versions of classic soul songs, a couple of original hits from Isaac Hayes and Eddie Floyd, and the deep-soul single “You Don’t Know What You Mean (to a Lover Like Me)” from Lee Fields and Sugarman 3. If you hadn’t guessed, “s-o-u-l” is spelled here “S-T-A-X,” and in addition to classic songs, the album sports the formidable backing talents of original Soulsville players Willie Hall, Charlie Pitts and Ben Cauley, and contemporary vocal talents Legend, Anthony Hamilton, Leela James, Ryan Jones, Sharon Jones and Meshell Ndegeocello.

Chris Pierce and Leela James provide a moving rendition of William Bell and Judy Clay’s “Private Number” that’s faithful in arrangement, but given an original spark by James’ edgier vocal. Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings rescue Kenny Rogers’ “Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)” from its kitschy neo-psych origins with the toe-tapping go-go arrangement of a mid-60s spy film. Ryan Shaw provides a winning soul shout on a punchy backbeat-and-horns cover of Rufus Thomas’ “Memphis Train,” and the film’s acting stars rock the mic for both Rufus Thomas’ “Boogie Ain’t Nuttin’ (But Gettin’ Down)” and the closing revival of Isaac Hayes “Do Your Thing.” Hayes’ own cover of The Jackson 5’s “Never Can Say Goodbye” remains as sultry and fresh as when originally issued on 1971’s Black Moses, and Eddie Floyd’s “I’ve Never Found a Girl (to Love Me Like You Do)” bridges from the nostalgic covers to the real deal. The album’s most startling remake is also its simplest, with Sharon Leal stripping Carla Thomas’ “Comfort Me” of its horns, backing singers and gospel inflections to render it stark and moody as a piano and voice ballad, exquisitely stretching to the upper end of Leal’s range.

In an age where the marketing value of a pop soundtrack usually outweighs both the music’s value to the story and the experience of the soundtrack as a CD, executive music producer Alex Steyermark has winningly serviced all three. As accompaniment to the film, the songs create a mood that’s of the time rather than purely nostalgic, and as a musical experience, these new performances are worthy updates. There’s no substitute for the originals (many of which can be found on the Stax 50th Anniversary Celebration, The Stax Story, or the three volumes of the Complete Stax-Volt Singles 1 2 3), but as a solid fifty-minutes of soul that stretches from original sides through inventive covers to new compositions based on the Stax theme, this is a great spin. [©2008 hyperbolium dot com]