Boxes and Bytes

Top 10 Albums of 2010

Yep, it's that time again. I get to list my favorite albums of the year. 2010 is a tough gig -- there were many highs (and tons of lows) spanning several genres that tend to attract me. Here in no particular order are the albums that caught my ear, picked me up, slowed me down, made me stop and think, made me laugh, and even at times pissed me off. The best art causes some type of reaction in its consumer, and these all were successful at that.

Roky Erickson w/ Okkervil River: True Love Cast Out All Evil

Roky (Pronounced "Rocky") Erickson is the driving force behind the 13th Floor Elevators. The Elevators had a profound impact on what would eventually be called the "San Francisco" sound in the 60s. Hailing from Austin, the Elevators combined electric blues with Roky's distinct rock n roll wail to define what became known as psychedelic rock. Roky's struggles with drug abuse and mental illness led to a 3-year stint in a hospital for the criminally insane, where he was reportedly subjected to Thorazine, electroshock therapy, and other experimental treatments. While committed, he spent a lot of time writing. After he was released, he connected with fellow Austinites Okkervil River to help bring the songs to life. The result is the Grammy-nominated True Love Cast Out All Evil, an explosion of raw, nihilistic, blues-tinged hymns and emotionally haunting songs. These tunes are his catharsis from insanity, and provide the listener with a resonating and unforgettable experience being inside a master's mind as he struggles to cast out his demons.

Best tracks: Goodbye Sweet Dreams, Forever, Think Of As One

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The Black Keys: Brothers

Loose, gritty blues rock is the best way to describe this collection. Full of souled-up, funked up riffs, the Black Keys create a musical universe of love gone too wrong, fragmented relationships, and party-vibe guitar head-banging. The tremulous falsettos are a new Keys twist, but they're not overdone, they're just right -- and Auerbach hits the notes well (he doesn't go too far) he pulls back just in time. This music is meant to be heard live, but until you can see them on stage, listen to this one on headphones, and soak in the rich, thick production's thudding drums and uber-heavy bass bottom -- your brain will vibrate all the way to ecstasy. 

Best tracks: Everlasting Light, Next Girl, Tighten Up

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Jamey Johnson: The Guitar Song

 

When I "go country" I usually stick to the classics like Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, George Jones and sometimes a sampling of Tammy Wynette for the heart-ache of it all. Rarely, do I listen to what is categorized as "country" nowadays. Until now. Jamey Johnson is to me classic country. This album brings together all the lessons the masters preached about in one sprawling 25-song cycle of despair, outrage, and redemption. On the opening track, "Lonely At The Top", Johnson re-establishes what real country should sound like, and keeps that standard going throughout. This is not your daddy's Garth Brooks: Johnson channels the classic country gods, but adds his own dusty, gravelly voice to the mix. He takes us on a fleeting journey of outlaw-like takes, Townes Van Zandt-like trips through sadness and inspiration, and ultimately lifts us up from a hazy fog of loneliness and depression to show us what countrified soul really is. He single-handedly re-defined what "country" is in 2010.

Best tracks: Lonely At The Top, Playing The Part, For The Good Times

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Arcade Fire: The Suburbs

I usually conjure up adjectives like "murky" or "prog-like" when thinking about previous Arcade Fire albums. But for The Suburbs, the band has recorded an intimate, reverberating song-cycle, more reminiscent of concept-rock albums from the 70s. The opening track "The Suburbs" jumps out at you as if the band is in mid-conversation. The panoramic narrative created is loaded with catchy, jangly tunes powered by a rankled indignation -- are they judging or fantasizing? As in previous outings, the band has a glut of good ideas, but here they have finessed them into a cohesive, wry expression of sonic force. This is user-friendly Arcade Fire, ready for take-off.

Best tracks: The Suburbs, Modern Man

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Kanye West: My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

Kanye's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy is a musical renaissance -- this album demonstrates how an artist can mashup hip-hop, rock, and the blues to create an entirely new sound. This album is a brilliant, capricious effort that blends lyrical eloquence with an expansive array of rippingly vibrant beats, samples, grunts & groans, and eccentric harmonies. This, to me, is a cultural breakthrough, and represents an achievement at the level of Thriller, or even Sgt. Pepper. It now becomes the standard for all hip-hop, and even concept albums, to strive for going forward. Presented as a fearless indictment of the Obama age, West's ingenious graft of political protest and ruthless sexual prowess emanates from every corner of his hauntingly majestic, yet twisted fantasy. Kanye's lyrical vistas are expanded into gleaming pop songs with seemingly endless possibilities. He reveals all and nothing, spinning a tirelessly intense experience, while producing the finest work of his career, and the best record of this year, if not this decade. 

Best tracks: Gorgeous, Power, Monster

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Robert Plant: Band of Joy

Robert Plant's solo renaissance started with 2007's Grammy-hogging Raising Sand duet with Alison Krauss. Even before that, he became more interesting as a solo artist with the Strange Sensation. Here, he rewinds back to his Led Zeppelin III days, and crafts a shimmering collage of covers, imprinting his own style on several lesser-known songs by an eclectic sampling of artists like Los Lobos, Richard Thompson, and Low. Before playing this, put on the aforementioned Led Zeppelin III. You'll instantly recognize the similarities in vocal style. Although his post-Zeppelin musical journey has had its ups and downs, with Band of Joy, he has finally carved a distinct identity as a performer in his own right. This may help to squash the ever-irritating calls for Zep reunions. Plant is now securely his own artist.

Best tracks: Angel Dance, You Can't Buy My Love, I'm Falling In Love Again

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Eminem: Recovery

In some ways, Eminem is a lot like Madonna... he reshapes the pop landscape, goes away for awhile, and returns with a deft re-invention of himself. Since his last album, Relapse, he has been to rehab and came out the other end a changed man. Here he's writing about redemption and finally uncovering his real self. This Marshall Mathers has carefully constructed a masterpiece of song-craft and assembled an all-star cast including Rhianna, Lil Wayne, Pink, and others to help him deliver it. One the year's best songs, "Love The Way You Lie" is a blistering documentary of insecurity, jealousy, and rage, delivered with an emotional force that can only come from a truth that's been lived. Marshall is hurting and baring his soul. Rihanna provides the counterpart harmony in a moving "part" that hits close to home. On "Not Afraid" Eminem takes us through a time-capsule of his experiences falling into the empty abyss of celebrity and excess, finally wrenching himself out of the morass, finding who he really is, and what now matters in his life (kids, sobriety). This could have easily devolved into a turgid tale of rock-star life -- the theme here is not unique -- however, Eminem is able to stand up and face his demons in the public eye while spinning an elegiac musical metamorphosis full of selfishness, recklessness, and ambition -- yet, leaves you rooting for him, and happy that he's come through his relapse and made it into the light... for now.

Best Tracks: Love The Way You Lie, Not Afraid, Won't Back Down

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Jackson Browne & David Lindley: Love Is Strange

This album is the third in an acoustic "series" Jackson has been releasing over the past few years, and was recorded live in Spain. On the previous two albums, Jackson stepped through an interesting array of deep cuts from his extensive catalog, as well as some familiar hits, providing an "intro" for each song with a short backstory. He continues that style here, but what sets this album apart is Jackson's collaboration with David Lindley. Lindley, a guitar master, has worked with Browne in the past, and has also worked with David Crosby, Warren Zevon and others. His contribution is what elevates this album to "Top 10" status. Combining Browne's vocals with Lindley's acoustic treatments, the back-catalog songs are transformed into "new" stories -- raw, stark statements on our human condition. The guitar work takes these songs and strips them to gut-wrenching tales of love gone bad, redemption sought, and forgiveness rarely found. Over the 17-song set, we are also treated to some of Lindley's solo work, including a masterful version of "Mercury Blues," a Jackson-produced track from 1981's El Rayo-X. One highlight is a "reunion" duet of "Stay," the track that ended Jackson's classic Running On Empty album, with Lindley hitting that ringing falsetto, this time a bit more seasoned, but still on the mark. If Jackson Browne continues his oeuvre "review" in this manner, we can only hope he brings Lindley along for the ride. 

Best Tracks: I'm Alive, Mercury Blues, For Everyman

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Mavis Staples: You Are Not Alone

Mavis Staples, now on the other side of 70, has spent the last several years collaborating with a stellar array of friends and fans, including Curtis Mayfield, Bob Dylan, Prince, and most masterfully with Ry Cooder on 2007's We'll Never Turn Back. Staples' experience in the pre-Civil Rights South of the 60s (She spent a night in a West Memphis, Arkansas jail at the behest of a racist cop) has infused her art for over 40 years with a streak of protest and activism. That element of protest continues on this album, most notably with "You Are Not Alone," an invidious expression of hope mixed with a penultimate need to be understood and valued. It's as if Staples is channeling her personal journey from gospel great to soul legend and finally to an original American treasure. I can hear her asking me to just listen to her stories, and in them I'll find my own path to enlightenment. Wilco's Jeff Tweedy brings his production and writing talent to Mavis' shimmering, blues-infused voice, and together they craft a diversely brilliant set of secular and non-secular songs, threaded with beautiful and uplifting melodies. 

Best tracks: You Are Not Alone, In Christ There Is No East Or West, We're Gonna Make It

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Buddy Guy: Living Proof

I made my "pilgrimage" to the rural south a few years back. I drove the route 66 down to Mississippi and Louisiana, and made it to Clarksdale, the Crossroads, where Robert Johnson supposedly sold his soul to the devil. I also visited Memphis, Sun Studios, Stax Records, and saw Al Green preach in his church. It's one thing to "experience" the blues on a stereo at home, it's another to visit where the blues started, and where a lot of struggling musicians are still plucking away trying to make a living. To walk the dusty sidewalks where blues music is baked in is quite enlightening. To me the blues are timeless, embedded in the air, always around, never changing -- and here in the south, you can feel it all around you. I recently stumbled onto this Buddy Guy album, and after multiple listens, am still marveling at the scalding-hot guitar work, wailing vocals, and bitingly, bitterly honest lyrics. Buddy is reaching deep into his soul, and singing about his life, all 74 years of it. In this guitar playing you can hear why Clapton, Page, and Hendrix were inspired to play -- this is the work of a master, not at the end of life, but re-invigorated, recharged, and on fire -- playing brilliantly, and singing with the conviction of a man at his own Crossroads.

Best Tracks: 74 Years Young, Where The Blues Begins, Too Soon

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A Commentary on Dylan's Christian Period

 

I remember the Sunday school bus rambling down our street stopping in front of all the houses, patiently waiting for kids on the block to pile in. Our mom always wanted us to go to Sunday school. Probably so she could have a few hours of kid-free peace. We used to go back and forth on wanting to go. If you sat through all the hellfire and brimstone there was a supremely large barrel of candy waiting at the end. The big-bellied Brother would smile and tell us we could scoop us much candy as our little hands could hold, and then he’d thank us for coming.

I didn’t always feel up to Sunday school, though. I would often squat below the window sill hiding from the driver... picturing him peering in through the curtains -- his eyes searching for those that needed God the most -- kids that came from families like mine. The bus would idle for a few minutes and then take off down the street, hunting for more kid prey -- I often wondered if the driver worked on commission (“bring us those young souls, Brother Bob -- we need a lot of em today”).

Since those days, I’ve always equated religion with candy. I haven’t been able to divorce the rush of throwing both my arms into that big barrel of sweets with minutes earlier being warned about the hot fires of hell waiting to burn me for all eternity if I didn’t repent and “do the right thing” -- whatever that right thing is. I didn’t care though -- I was ready to sell my soul for all that bounty.

All through my adolescence in the south, religion was there -- usually sidelined, barely mentioned, not playing a major role in my day-to-day. My mom wasn’t a holy roller type, although she often invited them in when they came knocking (and they did that quite a bit). The undercurrent of this bubbling religiosity kind of sums up a lot of the 70s for me -- the realization that the “free love” 60s was evaporating into recession, war, political corruption, and a rising tide of conservatism. What else was there but God? 

Dylan released “Slow Train Coming” in August 1979. I was 14, and had moved away from religion's "sense of wonder". But this was a jolt. Dylan a born-again Christian? He’s Jewish! How could this be?

He recorded Slow Train Coming in 8 days. Along with Jesus, Dylan was admiring the players. He was in awe of Willie Nelson. He told producer Jerry Wexler, "I’ve done the 'word trip', now I want to do the 'music trip'". Wexler brought Dylan to Muscle Shoals and introduced him to Mark Knopfler. Dylan said, "Knopfler does me better than anyone." After hearing the STC songs, Wexler said, "looks like we have wall to wall Jesus here." Bob proselytized Wexler, asking him if he had gotten into the New Testament. Wexler replied, "Bob you’re talking to a 63 year old card-carrying Jewish atheist."

For me, STC is not really about Jesus -- it's about the raving, primal, elemental vocals -- they float eerily into my psyche and become a familiar, yet delirious sense of presence -- a booming reminder of that bus driver peering into the curtains -- peering into my soul. I can hide today, but I can’t hide forever.

In truth, the Christian albums are quintessential pop classics: Knopfler’s rich, nerve-wracked guitar playing is like a sunnier, distortion-free Jesus and Mary Chain, or like some early pre-fifties Chicago blues music. Dylan’s lyrics are at times erratic, vicious, laced with vehement proclamations. Obviously, he’s awakened, and uses the words as his instrument -- there’s guttural blasts of rage and love, and they collide with Knopfler's slavering runs -- they don’t really fit together at times. Dylan’s vocal bursts make him sound like a really “down” son-of-a-bitch on these discs. He’s got this “shine your light” thing going on, really strong. Should make Van be almost ashamed for even trying to "do" religion.

Slow Train Coming, Saved, and Shot of Love: I hear so much and so little here. Infidels too -- it’s really his “fourth” Christian album. He channels Sha-Na-Na, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Astral Weeks, and even Eno. Ringing out the 70’s, these albums are a precursor to the coming conservative revolution. Dylan, not Reagan, set the stage for the right’s rising.

I often complained to my mom about going to Sunday school. I mean, other than the candy, it made me feel real little. I never got the right vibe. She didn’t care -- she just wanted a 4-hour babysitter. And she’s the one that told me I couldn’t buy the Sex Pistols record. I had to get Saturday Night Fever instead. Dylan brought me full-circle with this perfect blast of heathen-hunting music, though. What else could he really do, BUT find Jesus? The Ramones and the Sex Pistols had made him irrelevant. The Ramones were quintessentially American -- taking Dylan’s place, if you will. The difference between Slow Train Coming and the Ramones debut is only three years -- but that gap made Dylan the stranger, the unwanted. I mean STC ended the decade of KISS and Alice Cooper.

I bet Dylan would like these four albums to be in his time capsule. Of all Dylan albums, they capture who he really is and is not -- but more than that, they capture the essence of America at that crossroads in musical time: the rise of punk, the end of anything the 60s really stood for, and the emergence of Reagan. God, the 80s sucked. It’s like Dylan knew the suckiness was coming. He unloaded all this moral blathering, while painfully exposing us for who we really are. Look at us now. These albums are still a part those of us not willing to let go of the feeling that we can live without war -- peace and harmony will reign. Listen to all 8 sides in order. If you get to side 8 without thinking there is a better way -- then you don't "get it" -- maybe go back to those Alice Cooper records. 

You've Never Heard These Songs

I bet you haven't heard these. Click to play:

Dave Clark Five:

• Everybody Get Together (The bass on this track is real heavy. I didn't expect that from DCF!)

Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys (Raw and rough-sounding country-blues. Nice!)

• Down-Hearted Blues

Bill Haley:

• Rocket 88 (The first rock 'n roll song)

Don Gibson:

• It's a Long, Long Way to Georgia

Sister Rosetta Tharpe (Real gospel):

• Just a Closer Walk With Thee
• Rock Me

Sonny Boy Williamson (Real blues):

• All My Love In Vain

Ray Price & The Cherokee Cowboys (When country was Country):

• Release Me

Home Again with Gil Scott-Heron

 

Gil Scott-Heron, often referred to as the godfather of hip-hop, is a new discovery for me. While flipping the racks at Amoeba I found some of his vinyl, and after being enticed by a recent Uncut article on his re-emergence I felt it was my duty to give him a listen.

I'm New Here is Gil's first album in 13 years, and comes 40 years after his first solo recordings. I decided to grab the Deluxe Edition 180 gram vinyl set which includes a 2nd disc of unreleased tracks (as well as a link to download the complete album on MP3). To properly compare his current work with some of his earlier stuff, I also got The Revolution Will Not Be Televised -- a compilation of some of his early material.

Listening to both albums back to back shows the sharp contrast between the young, angry, revolutionary spirit inciting the masses to rise up against Nixon and his ilk, and the older, reflective soul, still restless, but more constrained and sharpened. As he espouses on I'm New Here's Being Blessed, "I've got a big bill coming at the end of the day" - he's coming to terms with his truth, and realizes it has an expiration date.

I'm New Here's New York Is Killing Me is Scott-Heron's plaintiff wail -- an explosion of lyrical color exposing a man desperate to find peace however he can. After two stints in prison on drug charges in the 2000s, Scott-Heron not only questions the authorities that are seemingly always on the lookout for him, but also questions himself -- finally realizing the he's "not the only one that runs." Running is a theme interspersed throughout I'm New Here... running from cover, running out of time, running for "something of more value." The haunting, syncopated rhythms and sparse samples (including Kanye West) are aiding the "savage beast that soothes his brain" throughout these mesmerizing glances of life -- spoken low-key, with an undercurrent of intensity, denial, and acceptance of experiences both challenged and challenging.

The bonus disc includes a jazzier, more laid-back Scott-Heron chatting about his piano playing and life experiences interspersing streams of consciousness lyrics with a meandering explanation of his writing style. The disc offers an insightful and playful discovery of his genius crackling forth when he conjures the will. 

Gil Scott-Heron brings with him the ultimate street music -- combining the raw urgency of hip-hop with "ass music" that emerged from brothels and watering holes and eventually became what we now hear as jazz. Scott-Heron's welcome "comeback" on I'm New Here is as vital as the earlier pieces I enjoyed on The Revolution Will Not Be Televised, and messages how he sees jazz today: as nothing more than dance music overlapping several styles and genres. In fact, he sees jazz as the genesis of almost every style of music -- he even says Prince is the "best jazz musician around today." I would argue that Scott-Heron himself may be one of the best "jazz" musicians around today... on second thought... one of the best musicians around today... period.

Read the Uncut review of I'm New Here.

The Cool Indifference of Fred Hersch

I admit I have no past experience enjoying Fred Hersch. I came to know him just a little over a week ago via a New York Times magazine article about his recent battle with complications from AIDS. The article peaked my interest, and I quickly headed over to Amazon and ordered three CDs:

• The Fred Hersch Trio: Live at the Village Vanguard
• The Fred Hersch Trio: Night & the Music
• Fred Hersch In Amsterdam: Live at the Bimhuis

I chose a studio set and two live sets to try and get a good feel for Hersch's performances in different contexts. What has struck me the most is how Hersch weaves his subtle but fluid finger-work in and under his fellow players, with solos leaking out at what seems the most appropriate times, but never flooding forward and consuming the "stage". His impeccable sense of timing and rhythm sweeps through the compositions -- and some fairly complex time changes occur without the hint of a disconnect between the players.

On "Night & the Music" Hersch's melodic curves provide an effete reinvention of the "traditional" piano ballad, while Drew Gress (bass) and Nasheet Waits (drums) jostle around with bursts of intonation and rhythmic endorsement. The trio, while harmonious in play, are also decidedly improv in their feel. Gress' bass work is pointed and stiletto sharp. Waits' drums have a glorious lilt, balanced with a soft construct. The tunes themselves offer a wide palette of traditional balladry and popular jazz compositions including a nice selection of Monk (Misterioso and Boo Boo's Birthday). As an introduction to Hersch, this set offers an irresistible combination of harmony and vibration.

My idea to get three CDs paid off with "Live at the Village Vanguard" -- it gave me a holistic view of Hersch's styles in various settings. His playing on this set is far punchier, disconnected, and a tad more avant-garde. His runs on "Bemsha Swing" (A Monk piece) is filled with an agitated undercurrent and clashes at times with Gress' bass (yes, Gress and Waits accompany Hersch on this set too). I love Monk, and the interpretation here crackles. It's time changes are spot on, and the backing groove by Gress and Waits have a master spark. The entire set is dense with crafty segues and speedy glides across the keys. At times I wondered if the CD itself was going to start smoking up the player.

The "Live at the Bimhuis" set is a radical departure from the other two sets. Hersch was not even aware that this performance was being recorded. It became an "unintentional CD" and captured him in a setting that seems stripped of self-consciousness. His piano sound is upfront, unwavering, and deliciously disembodied from the "attentiveness" usually given an official recording. It seems like Hersch must always get in a Monk piece, and he does not disappoint here. Strikingly though, it's his own compositions that have the most impact. Maybe because the performance was for close friends, or because it was his last from a tiring 10-day tour, but his ease of form, and the "floating voice" of the instrument move seamlessly from one time change to another -- there's a cool indifference to the playing voice here - giving it a swirling, free-form language. This is my favorite set of the three, but all of them are resplendent with unbelievable phrasing and both formal and informal sweeps of style.

Beatles for Christmas

Got in the complete Beatles catalog on USB today! So this is how the Beatles have decided to go "digital".

 

Opening the first iPod... (again).

YouTube didn't exist when I brought home the first iPod...

Opening the AC/DC Box Set

I must admit... this is one killer box set!

Gloriously Driven into Free Jazz: Albert Ayler's "Spiritual Unity"

This jazz is the ultimate street music, a strictly American concordance of honks, jabs, steely glances, cool indifference. Loaded with the blues, harboring an idealistic agitation -- Albert Ayler's Trio (Ayler on sax, Gary Peacock on bass, and Sunny Murray on percussion) created a free-form masterpiece with Spiritual Unity. Besotted with uncertainty, often harmonically at odds with themselves, and crackling with a new invented musical language, the players enter the stage from all sides (bottom and top as well) during 29 minutes of unbelievable phrasing and swirling interaction.

The groove present between the players is succinct -- there is no unnecessary information -- the disparate elements are somehow correctly connected, and infused with an undercurrent of uncertainty, a bit of doubt, trepidation, some fear and loathing.

Recorded on July 10, 1964 in NYC (and yes, Don Cherry was there, but not playing), this record (I'm critiquing the vinyl LP), was recorded in one session, in a hurry. That the three of them invented a new musical language (free jazz) in that spurious session is a testament to their genius: the quality of the moment ensured the often incompatible elements actually became inseparable.

That this album shepherded "free jazz' into the musical lexicon is now a minor distinction to the ultimate result: a glorious, contentious collection of blues-based tension that will cause a clash of vibrations in your ears. You need to listen to this album. On headphones. In the dark.

Play track 1.