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Also Mike Love – Unleash The Love, Serpent Power – Electric Looneyland and Chris Thile – thanks for watching
Download: Hang this rag, My father’s sin, Don’t go to this barn, Trampled rose, How it may end, The day after tomorrow
In a world of everything from Sergeant Pepper to What’s Going On? Considered a good game for remix “upgrades”, it’s a little surprising – given that his nose usually sniffs the future, not the past – to find Tom Waits doing his high-pitched, ringing “stereofunk” from the Real Gone series. already perfect from the start.
However, at least he himself worked with his partner and collaborator Kathleen Brennan on a major overhaul; together they managed to bring out some of the album’s less obvious themes and aspects that had previously been partially hidden behind pockmarked, percussive blotches. superficial action – especially Waits’ own ventriloquist – is toned down here. For example, at the beginning of “Top Of The Hill”, Waits’ vocals and Marc Ribot’s screeching guitar sound cleaner, and the song’s dark expletives contain a sarcastic commentary on the mixing exercises: “If I had to do it again / I’ll try to transcend the laws of man.”
The net result is that frayed nerves are more painfully exposed: bumping into arid desert banjo plains, “How’s It Gonna End” is as poignant as Cohen’s “Who By Fire”; the menacing background hum in “Go Into That Barn” adds a deeper level of menace underneath the hysteria. An album of restless ghosts and village superstitions, Waits paints a series of grim wilderness scenes that expose the rotten underbelly of the American pioneer myth.
At its core is the 10-minute play The Sins of My Father, smothered in ancestral guilt and revenge, but with room for heartbreaking melancholy in the haunting Stamped Rose and Metropolis. .
But the balance of wear and tenderness so characteristic of Real Gone is perhaps best conveyed by the two military songs at the end of the album. Screeching guitars, graceful trombones and Waits’ most piercing, piercing vocals evoke the brutal terror of the Marines crashing against the shore in “Hoist That Rag”. Later, the banner of victory is raised, presumably at a significant cost in human life, and the weary fighter, waiting for his “day after tomorrow” to return home, sadly wonders, “How did God choose / Whose prayer did he reject?”
His background in jazz, modern classical and progressive rock lends well to Tom Rogerson of Three Trapped Tigers, an album of solo piano finely crafted by Eno (some of Rogerson’s finger interrupts the infrared beam while crossing the keyboard to trigger). Inspired by a shared love of the Suffolk scenery, these mostly small pastoral compositions float on the ever-changing coastal plain as the name suggests: the album and are gradually overlaid with shimmering piano sounds, while “Swamp Choir” combines shimmering piano and thin lines of synths with the chirping of birds.
The floating, improvised approach is occasionally overshadowed by softly fluttering electronic impulses or brief minimalist themes, but the overall mood is delightfully uninhibited: even more rhythmic elements, such as “Gabbard” or the prepared piano in “March Away”, smack furtively, ringing in full reverb to dampen any overdose.
It’s safe to say that Mike Love is not as beloved as his cousin Brian Wilson. It’s a matter of very different views: Wilson’s apparent vulnerability only makes his musical achievements more attractive, while Love never completely erases the remaining impression of cruelty that lurks behind a spiritual calling. That’s why he, in such tedious unification fantasies as “There’s Only One Earth,” is the least convincing pop evangelist: if we were all one, you’d know exactly which one it would be.
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Similarly, he seems completely unaware that the story of his trip to meet the Maharishi with the Beatles in The Brothers in Pisces says very little about his claim that they did not do it for the fame, since they were saving anyway. . Unleash The Love basks in that smugness, aptly expressed in rolled-up-sleeved pseudo-funk ’80s pop tracks like “I Don’t Wanna Know”. Meanwhile, the Beach Boys’ “Bonus” overheated album will only tarnish the cherished memory.
Evil things come from the depths of Liverpool’s sour heart. Electric Looneyland is the second album by Serpent Power, a band made up of Paul Molloy of the Zutons and Ian Skelly of The Coral, supposedly after the legendary San Francisco band of the same name. It is a wild, euphoric unbridled psychedelia, lyrical and instrumental, jumping through the “Labyrinth of the Universe… Through the black abyss”, like the foggy psychedelic tango “Color from space”, announced in.
Many recognizable historical touchstones can be heard here: the fuzzy guitar riff and high-pitched vocals on “Golden Dawn” are reminiscent of Cream; the swaggering stomp of guitar, piano and tambourine on “Howl” is Pure Hapshash & The Colored Coat; while the “Jekyll & Hyde” Reed Organ recalls many of the Farfisa-driven garage punk psychedelics. But when Serpent Power picks up steam, like the psycho-rock curls of “Gates Of Heaven” and the piercing acid-rock waltz of “Ancient Aviator”, they’re no different from their forefathers.
Mandolinist Chris Thile is arguably the most volatile musician active today, with a resume from Bach to bluegrass, with collaborators including Yo-Yo Ma and Brad Mehldau. He also hosted Garrison Keillor’s A Prairie Home Companion radio show, writing a new, frequent hit song each week, 10 of which are included in the Thanks for Listening program.
Topics range from Christmas and Thanksgiving—with family obligations mercifully lubricated with alcohol (“Thank God for Fermentation”)—to the ever-hungry, ever-angry world of social media in “Feedback Loops,” wooden flutes, and thiele mandolins. calm the seething cauldron of “closed eyes, closed minds, open wounds, open hatred.” Despite his parochial brutality, he celebrates a culture of generosity (“I’m doing this for you”) and cultural diversity (“Thank you, New York”), exemplified by musical inclusiveness and sophisticated lyricism, though sometimes a little twisted and lengthy, reminiscent of Sufjan Stevens in best case.
Before channeling his talents into 10cc, Graham Gouldman produced slick pop material in the sixties for bands such as Herman’s Hermits, The Hollies and, most famously, The Yardbirds. Sadly, two of his greatest songs with the Yardbirds are covered by R&B duo Larry Williams and Johnny “Guitar” Watson, whose famous “For Your Love” retains an infectious harpsichord line, and epic glam metal band Rush, whose “Heart Full Of Soul “does not have such redeeming qualities.
Combining snapshots of everyday working-class life with the indelible melodies of hits like “Bus Stop”, “Tallyman” and “No Milk Today” suggests Gouldman is Severa’s Ray Davis; outside of his home state, he is less reliable. , as in “Have You Ever Been Georgia”, a song that lacks unique charm and can refer to any of the 51 states. The American’s more casual approach to his material: Cher’s “Behind the Doors” is sweet, but the collection’s biggest mistake was to squander the subtle charm of “I Don’t Love” on Didi Sharp’s exaggerated treatment of Philadelphia Soul.
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Post time: Jun-05-2023