Tag Archives: Rock

Peter Holsapple and Chris Stamey: Here and Now

peterholsapplechrisstamey_hereandnowEx-dB’s show off the magic of their pairing

Holsapple and Stamey’s music on the first two dB’s albums (Stands for Decibels and Repercussions – available as a two-fer) was so deeply insinuating as to nearly obsolete everything else that would follow. It’s not that their post-dB’s work was uninteresting or without merit, it just never set its hooks as deeply in the soul. Stamey’s string of solo albums held several high points, including his sole major-label release, 1987’s It’s Alright, and his 2004 return, Travels in the South. He also helped create memorable works as a producer, recording Americana acts that include Whiskeytown, Alejandro Escovedo, and Caitlin Cary. But none of this, including the dB’s post-Stamey releases (1984’s Like This, 1987’s The Sound of Music and 1994’s Paris Avenue), nor the duo’s recently reissued post-dB’s team-up, Mavericks, ever fully captured the magic of the first two albums.

Others have had to compete with their mercurial early success. But unlike Stamey’s one-time boss, Alex Chilton, Stamey and Holsapple have retained the charm of their early days, even as the buoyancy of younger years is weighed down by the wear of age. Was their post-dB’s music really all that different, or was the difference in the listener’s matured expectation and the environment into which later releases were made? Longtime fans can’t really make an evaluation divorced from romantic attachment to the early albums, but Holsapple and Stamey’s latest can provide some clues. The thrill that runs through their layered vocal harmonies, the descending melodic hook of “Early in the Morning,” and the battery of guitar sounds provide instant reminders of what drew your ear to this pair in the first place.

Stamey’s 2004 return to solo work reminded fans of what they’d been missing, and Holsapple’s return reignites the ear’s longing for his voice and harmonies. The album’s love songs could easily be taken as expressions of friendship; the opening cover of Family’s “My Friend the Sun” reads as a mutual invitation to reconnect, and Stamey’s “Santa Monica,” ostensibly a declaration of lifelong fealty to a lover, could be read as a nostalgic memory of earlier musical connections. Holsapple’s title track celebrates the present, but it’s clear that this moment is the culmination of a long-standing association. Even Stamey’s honorarium “Song for Johnny Cash” could be interpreted as a celebration of the musical friendship closer at hand.

Writing independently, each bounces from pop confections to philosophical constructs. In the former category is Holsapple’s stream-of-consciousness spin through a routine start to the day, “Early in the Morning,” and Stamey’s bouncy “Widescreen World.” In the latter category are Holsapple’s questioning “Begin Again” and “Some of the Parts,” the latter opening with the fifty-something quandary “Mid-life, and where’s my big parade?” Stamey’s jazz influences surface on the allegorical “Broken Record,” augmented by drifting guitars and a layered vocal harmony break. Holsapple and Stamey leaven each other here as they did in their dB’s days, creating a vocal magic that neither possesses alone. Eighteen years after their last pairing, this album’s been a long time coming; but it was certainly worth the wait. [©2009 hyperbolium dot com]

MP3 | Here and Now
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Chris Stamey’s Home Page
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The Lonely H: Concrete Class

lonelyh_concreteclassClassic-rock wonder kids find blues and country roots

Three albums into their career, the classic-rock wonder kids of Washington’s Olympic peninsula may finally be outrunning the novelty of their young years. The fealty with which their music reaches back to meaty 1970s guitar rock may still throw some for a loop, but those who’ve flattened the grooves on albums from Thin Lizzy, Free, Bad Company, and Bob Seger will appreciate this new helping of riff-rock. Those who’ve followed the band through their first two albums will find their predilection for multi-voice harmonies and Queen-like theatrics replaced here by rootiser influences that suggest The Band on vocal tunes like “The River.” Others, like “Singer” reflect the West Coast tempo and style of the Eagles, and the twangy “Girl From Jersey” recalls the Canadian one-hit wonders, The Stampeders. Vocalist Mark Fredson still sounds a bit like Savoy Brown’s Chris Youlden, but the group’s musical evolution retains the ’70s vibe of their earlier work while opening themselves to the blues and roots sides of guitar rock. The evocation of a 35-year-old musical ethos is so seamless as to suggest The Lonely H arrived in 2009 by time machine. Their expanded musical reach and guitarist Eric Whitman’s Allman-styled mustache are perfect additions to the group’s musical ethos, denim bellbottoms and post-hippie long hair. [©2009 hyperbolium dot com]

MP3 | Diggin’ a Hole
The Lonely H’s MySpace Page

Ryan Bingham & The Dead Horses: Roadhouse Sun

ryanbingham_roadhousesunPreternaturally weary and wizened country-rock

Ryan Bingham sounds more road-weary and wizened than can scarcely be imagined for a twenty-eight year old. He’s a hoarse-voiced troubadour in the mold of Dylan and Earle, a rocker in the sing-song vein of Willie Nile and Steve Forbert, a rousing melodist ala Bruce Springsteen, and a dusty Westerner (born in New Mexico, but raised in rural Texas) whose roots also touch John Mellancamp’s heartland. Like fellow Texan Jack Ingram’s early days touring the state’s elaborate network of bars and dance halls, Bingham displays an unbridled urgency to communicate with each performance. The provenance of his gravel-stained voice includes an early exit from parental supervision and hard years of independent living on the rodeo circuit. With such experiential riches, you’d expect Bingham’s songs to dig into emotional pain, fate, self-reliance, resurrection, hard work, or realized dreams, and while his band (under the baton of the Black Crowes’ Marc Ford) gives fiery and impassioned performances to match the vocals, the lyrics don’t always make as strong an impression. The dues paying “Roadhouse Blues,” for example, includes images of wanderers, badlands, freight trains and long-haul trucks that aren’t quite convincing as vivid memories. The sound of Binham’s voice and the power of his band’s playing are enough to carry this release, but listeners may be left feeling he hasn’t fully connected with his own story. There’s a great deal of emotion in this work, but it’s in the tone rather than words. That will be enough for many listeners, and played live these tunes are sure to satisfy. [©2009 hyperbolium dot com]

Hear “Dylan’s Hard Rain”
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Michelle Shocked: Soul of My Soul

michelleshocked_soulofmysoulFocused and accessible album of love and anger

After the artistic bonanza of 2005’s CD triple-shot (the eclectic Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, the Disney covers Got No Strings and the Latin-influenced Mexican Standoff), Michelle Shocked returns with a passionate album of rock, folk and a touch of soul. Aside from her theme albums, the mood here is among the most focused of her catalog, nicely summed by the quote in her album’s press: “I think the meditation these past several years, ever since I stopped drinking, really, has been to jettison rage without losing the ability to feel strong feelings.” Her lyrics are deeply emotional, bitter and angry at the lasting effects of the Bush administration, and tender and loving towards the “official love of her life,” artist David Willardson.

Luckily, it’s not all sappy love songs and angry denunciations, as Shocked mixes folk, soul and punkishly loud rock amidst her twin topical inspirations. Her sunny relationship gets the larger share, including the meta-love lead-off that offers the well-worn just-in-love realization that love songs aren’t necessarily for everyone else. The more intimate “Heart to Heart” and “True Story” may be overly sincere for some listeners; the well-worn “two hearts beating as one,” for example, doesn’t live up to Shocked’s typical craft. More original is the salacious “Paperboy,” sung from the perspective of a newspaper’s lusty recipient, and a trio of songs that eye American society.

First among the jeremiads is “Ballad of the Battle of the Ballot and the Bullet,” which excoriates Americans for hiding in denials and asking “are we reaping a harvest of grief?” Shocked’s obviously not ready to move past the misdeeds of the Bush administration and finds the national character in need of repair. She pictures herself as David taking shots at political and corporate Goliaths on the punk-rock “Giant Killer,” and likens the eruption of Vesuvius to the destruction spewed by corporate America on “Pompeii.” The social critiques are sharp, but the love songs keep the album from turning into one long diatribe. Shocked’s fans will enjoy the passion and musical focus; those drawn in by Kaiser Permanente’s commercials will find this a good entry point to her catalog. [©2009 hyperbolium dot com]

MP3 | Love’s Song
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Gary Lewis & The Playboys: The Complete Liberty Singles

garylewis_completelibertysinglesEndearing legacy of overlooked mid-60s pop hit maker

Despite major commercial success in 1965 and 1966, including a chart-topping debut, five top-five and ten top-twenty singles, Gary Lewis’ music career was all but over two years after it began. His 1967 induction into the army left his label to release stockpiled tracks and record Lewis on occasional leaves; by the time of his discharge a phalanx of bubblegum bands had taken his place in the hearts and minds of young listeners. Though Lewis’ initial connections may have been eased by the fame of his actor/comedian father, Jerry Lewis, it was an inviting personality and a dream team of writers, arrangers and producers that made his vocals the center of an incredibly compelling string of singles.

The Playboys began public life in 1963 with a summer gig at Disneyland. Lewis initially played drums and rhythm guitarist Dave Walker handled lead vocals. But once in the studio with producer Snuff Garrett, Lewis found himself up front singing the group’s first single, “This Diamond Ring.” Co-written by Al Kooper, the song was originally released as a low-charting R&B single by Sammy Ambrose, but re-imagined by Garrett it became an unforgettable dollop of earnest pop, with Lewis’ vocal thickened by double-tracking and dramatized by Hal Blaine’s tympani. The double-tracked vocals would become a group trademark, with the second voice often provided by session singer Ron Hicklin.

Lewis, Garrett and arranger Leon Russell became a hit-making machine throughout 1965 and into 1966 as they reeled off “Count Me In” (written by post-Holly Cricket Glen D. Hardin), “Save Your Heart For Me” (originally a Brian Hyland B-side), “Everybody Loves a Clown,” “She’s Just My Style,” “Sure Gonna Miss Her” (with superb flaminco guitar by Tommy Tedesco), “Green Grass,” “My Heart’s a Symphony,” and “(You Don’t Have To) Paint Me a Picture.” All are superbly written, arranged and produced, turning Lewis’ limited vocal range into loveable approachability. Even today it’s impossible to resist Lewis’ immensely charming performances.

Lewis’ hit singles still turn up on oldies radio and compilations, and the single-disc Legendary Masters Series collects all ten of his charting A-sides; what sets this collection apart is the inclusion of rarities, B-sides, and later non-charting singles, many of which are as good as the A’s. Lewis’ jingle for Kellogg’s, “Doin’ the Flake,” is a Freddy Cannon-styled rocker that was originally available for box tops, and the title song from his dad’s 1966 film “Way Way Out” was issued only as a promotional single. The B-sides harbor some typical flipside fodder, including go-go instrumentals (“Hard to Find,” “Tijuana Wedding” and “Gary’s Groove”), novelties (“Time Stands Still,” on which the Lewis slips into an imitation of his dad’s wacky voice), and the celebrity-impersonation filled “Looking for the Stars.”

But the B’s weren’t always throwaways. Early flips, mostly penned by Garrett and Russell, include the terrific Jan & Dean styled “Little Miss Go-Go,” the Robbs-like harmony rocker “Without a Word of Warning,” and the moody organ-backed “I Won’t Make That Mistake Again.” Each has deftly crafted hooks that memorably complement lyrics of summer love and autumnal broken hearts. The songwriting team of Sloan & Barri served up their trademark folk-rock sound on “I Don’t Wanna Say Goodnight,” complete with chiming 12-string and a Brill Building styled chorus. The 12-string is even better on the Searchers-styled “I Can Read Between the Lines.”

As 1966 turned into 1967, Lewis’ material started to slip. An unreleased cover of “Sloop John B” is a pleasant sing-along, but without the magic of earlier hits. Still, there were some lower- and non-charting A’s and B’s that had something to offer, including light-psych harmony-pop (“Where Will Words Come From”), country-soul (“The Loser (With a Broken Heart)”), and California production pop styled production (“Girls in Love” and “Jill”). Lewis’ bubblegum sound reemerged on “Ice Melts in the Sun” and “Let’s Be More Than Friends,” turned to Monkees-styled pop on “Has She Got the Nicest Eyes” and Partridge Family harmonies on “Hayride.” A cover of Brian Hyland’s “Sealed With a Kiss” managed to hit #19, but additional covers ( “C.C. Rider,” “Every Day I Have to Cry Some,” “Rhythm of the Rain,” “Great Balls of Fire”) had both middling artistic and commercial success.

Lewis’ hitch in the army kept him from touring in support of his releases, and discord between his lawyer and label scuttled any real promotion. As quickly as he’d established himself with the chart run of 1965-66, he found top-notch releases in 1967 ignored by a fickle pop market. His last single, the self-produced, Box Tops-styled “I’m on the Right Road Now,” sports a snappy horn-arrangement and soulful backing vocals, but the quality only heightened the irony of the title’s failure. The market had moved on and so did Lewis, releasing a couple of solo singles (one on Scepter, one on Epic) in the mid-70s, continuing to tour and remaining a popular draw on the oldies circuit to this day.

Collectors’ Choice pulls together forty-five Liberty 45s, all remastered in sterling quality from the original mono tapes. Ed Osborne’s excellent liner notes are supplemented by release and chart info, and collector/producer Andrew Sandoval supplies numerous picture sleeve reproductions. This is a terrific package for anyone who craves lovingly produced, effervescent 1960s pop, and especially for those who’d like to hear how Lewis was presented to the public during the 45’s last gasp of uncontested dominance. [©2009 hyperbolium dot com]

Eilen Jewell: Sea of Tears

eilenjewell_seaoftearsBlue country cool meets hot rock twang

Jewell’s third album retains the 30s jazz phrasings of her vocals, but the folk and country sounds of 2007’s Letters From Sinners & Saints give way to electric guitars that twang like slow-motion rockabilly. No fiddle or harmonica this time, and only a few vocal harmonies supplement the basic guitar, drums, and bass. Dark strums of sustain contrast interestingly with Jewell’s reflective vocals, turning Johnny Kidd & the Pirate’s “Shakin’ All Over” into a contest between cool reserve and hot guitar licks. Imagine the calm and collected Julie London backed by the Blue Caps’ galloping Cliff Gallup. The British Invasion also provides Them’s “I’m Gonna Dress in Black,” rousing Jewell to angry self-pity.

The three covers (which also include Loretta Lynn’s “The Darkest Day”) have been reworked to downbeat- and mid-tempos that dovetail seamlessly with the blue twang of the nine originals. The opening “Rain Rolls In” contrasts chiming 12-string and a languid vocal with a lyric whose resignation extends to the grave. A similar pairing is heard in the mid-tempo title track, a jaunty vocal mouthing words of romantic misery. The aftermath of rejection threads through many of these tunes, alternating between quests of forgiveness and solitary rejections of the outside world; even the blue-jazz pep-talk “Final Hour” is more an escape from lethargy than a trek towards self-empowerment.

The closing “Codeine Arms” bookends the opener’s sense of doom with a consumptive plea that’s closer to the ignominy of McCabe & Mrs. Miller‘s opium den than the desperation of Buffy St. Marie’s “Cod’ine.” Yesteryear jazz and blues vocalists, most obviously Billie Holiday, cast a spell over Jewell’s vocals, but the rootsy support of her band tends more to Christy McWilson territory than Madeline Peyroux. The absence of direct folk and country influences gives this disc a distinct roots-rock sound that’s more singularly focused than her previous releases. Jewell’s a talented songwriter and compelling vocalist, but guitarist Jerry Miller may be the real hidden treasure here. [©2009 hyperbolium dot com]

MP3 | Sea of Tears
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Various Artists: One Kiss Can Lead to Another: Girl Group Sounds, Lost & Found

various_onekisscanleadtoanotherBroad anthology of girl group rarities

There’s little to fault in the research and production put into this set, but the breadth of collected works and the focus on rarities makes this the province of collectors rather than casual fans. Every track included here is likely the favorite of someone, but few have the global appeal of the era’s hits. The difference between a hit and miss may be razor thin (and at times circumstantial rather than artistic), but at 120 tracks, the back-to-back obscurities will really only hold the attention of aficionados who’ve internalized the genre’s flagships. Plaudits are due the set’s producer, Sheryl Farber, for pulling this set together, getting the clearances and documenting each of the tracks with notes (by Cha Cha Charming‘s Sheila Burgel), release data, label reproductions and photos. But it’s hard to imagine regularly listening to these discs beginning-to-end, or in place of hit-, label- and scene-based anthologies, group best-ofs or original albums. The mixture of Brill Building pop, Motown soul and British productions may be a fair representation (though where’s the non-English cohort?), but the combination is likely to leave less fanatical listeners pining for more of one and less of the others. The rarity factor is a great lure to collectors, and while casual listeners will discover a few new favorites, they’re likely to find the overall mass to be ponderous. [©2009 hyperbolium dot com]

The Sadies: Tales of the Rat Fink

sadies_talesoftheratfinkToo-short surf tracks bail before shooting the curl

These twenty-six tracks were drawn from the like-titled documentary on custom car legend Ed “Big Daddy” Roth. Unfortunately the tunes were purpose-written as transition music for the film, so rather than complete compositions excerpted for use on the soundtrack, the originals range from 0:35 (“The Milky Way”) to 1:35 (“The 3-B”); the album’s only full length track is the closing “The Double Wide.” That said, what’s here are superb, richly detailed and reverb drenched surf-styled instrumentals whose melodies could certainly sustain three or four minutes each. At these short lengths, however, the songs just get their established when it’s time to move on to the next track. It’s as if they’re paddling towards onto a primo wave and bailing before catching the lip. ADD surf music lovers may love the quick turnarounds, but most listeners will wish the group had fleshed out a dozen of these ideas to more satisfying lengths. What’s here is tuneful and twangy, but it’s most satisfying as transitional music for the film. [©2009 hyperbolium dot com]

Ben Vaughn: Vaughn Sings Vaughn, Vol. 3

benvaughn_vaughnsingsvaughnvol3Witty songwriter’s second volume of self covers

Vaughn is most widely known for his compositional contributions to television’s “3rd Rock From the Sun” and “That ’70s Show,” and from well-known covers of his songs by Marshall Crenshaw (“I’m Sorry (But So is Brenda Lee)”) and The Morells (“The Man Who Has Everything”). Liner note readers will also recognize his name from production work he’s performed for an array of artist that spans Charlie Feathers, Arthur Alexander, Ween, and Los Straitjackets. Ironically, his own carefully rendered recordings, starting with 1985’s The Many Moods of Ben Vaughn and running through 2006’s Designs in Music mostly remain the province of dedicated fans. His ’80s and ’90s releases with the Ben Vaughn Combo are a treasure trove of ’60s style, clever lyrics, droll vocals, AM radio hooks and, ultimately, a surprising amount of emotion for a songwriter whose tongue is usually found in his cheek.

This 2008 volume is the third in a series documenting Vaughn’s quixotic journey to cover all his own songs. Included are songs he’s recorded himself, songs he’s given to others, and a sprinkle of songs that never made it to commercial release. In addition to the time-shift of a mature songwriter reconsidering his earlier works, the use of a single band (Vaughn’s current working group, the Ben Vaughn Desert Classic) lends coherence to these songs that an anthology of their original versions couldn’t deliver. Vaughn’s revisited material in the past, reworking a few songs for 1992’s Mood Swings that he felt hadn’t previously reached their full potential, but never has he taken such a methodical tour of his own catalog. This time out he appears to resurrect a number of previously unreleased tunes from his songwriter’s notebook, alongside a few from late ’80s and early ’90s albums.

Most familiar to Vaughn fans will be a pair of songs from 1988’s Blows Your Mind (“Charlene” and “Darlene,” the latter also covered by the A-Bones), and tracks from 1990’s Dressed in Black (“New Wave Dancing”) and 1992’s Mood Swings (“I Dig Your Wig”). Compared back-to-back, there are some notable changes in arrangement (such as the muted trumpet solo on “I Dig Your Wig”), but the general thrust of the songs remains the same. One can imagine most of these incremental changes accumulated over years of performing the songs live. The newly rediscovered tunes include playful tap-dancing blues, Sir Douglas-styled organ rave-ups, twangy Americana, some jaunty wallowing in “Help Me” and “Self Pity,” and Leonard Cohen-styled deadpan monotone in “Bring Back the Night.”

Given the wealth of previously unknown titles, this is closer to a new album than the first two volumes in the series, which makes it a real draw for fans. As an introduction to Vaughn, it doesn’t measure up to the previous editions or earlier classics Three volumes into the project the remakes are starting to feel more like a vision quest for Vaughn than new revelations for listeners. It’s disappointing that the liner notes don’t explain Vaughn’s march through his catalog. Why these songs in this order? Where did the new titles come from? How has his approach to the older songs changed over time? There’s more here than the auteur is explaining. [©2009 hyperbolium dot com]

Slaid Cleaves: Everything You Love Will Be Taken Away

slaidcleaves_everythingyouloveDevastating album of anguished folk, rock and country

Austin singer-songwriter Slaid Cleaves returns with an album of Americana whose quiet beauty belies lyrics of deep resignation. Just as Springsteen’s anthems can obscure his bite, Cleaves presents his songs with an offhandedness that, on the surface, offsets the despondency of his words. The angst of love’s vulnerability, the political, social and economic polarization of a new gilded age, and the human misery of war are just a few topics that lead Cleaves to close with the fatalistic proscription “live well and learn to die, soon in the dust you’ll lie, with everything you know / Cruel death will not spare, the wise the young or fair, let’s drain this cup of woe.” The album is titled Everything You Love Will Be Taken Away, after all.

Cleaves sings with a warmth that infuses an element of hope in the crushing blows he delivers. Is there hard-won pain or only a clever couplet in singing “Every man is a myth, every woman a dream / Watch your little heart get crushed when the truth gets in between”? Is there bitterness or repudiation in “Here comes another blown up kid from over there / Making the whole world safe for the millionaires”? Probably a bit of each. The deftness with which he explicates characters in a perfectly framed, heartbreaking moment is breathtaking; he highlights the comfort and torment memories create in a war widow with the lyric, “I lose a little bit of myself with each tear I wipe away,” and captures the humanity of hookers in their attempt to keep warm on a Christmas Eve stroll.

Even when singing in the first person, Cleaves is more of an observer than a participant, and when he reports, it’s with a keen eye. His story of an old-time hanging, “Twistin’,” is an uncomfortably business-as-usual outing that connects to a devastatingly modern indictment. His quiet vocal lets the horrors speak for themselves, with corporal drum and moaning fiddle standing as characters. His cover of Ray Bonneville’s “Run Jolee Run” cycles from hunted to hunter and back to hunted, and the romantic of “Dreams” wonders “where do all your dreams go to, when it all starts to turn untrue / what is all your wishing for, when you don’t believe in dreams anymore?”

The album winds down with a bitter critique of politicians, global industrialists and sleepwalking media, somehow managing to retain a belief in the goodness of man. The closer, “Temporary,” resigns itself to existential impermanence. The magic of this album is how appealing Cleaves and his producer, Gurf Morlix, make such downbeat material. The arrangements are spare and quiet, the tempos deliberate, and though Cleaves is in his mid-forties, his voice retains a youthful tone that’s slightly scratched at the top end of his range. This is the most absorbing album Cleaves has recorded so far, and a strong contender for album-of-the-year honors. [©2009 hyperbolium dot com]

MP3 | Cry
Slaid Cleaves’ Home Page
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