It’s hot time, Summer in the City but that doesn’t slow down the music. This month delivers a bit of genre hopping, as I cover music ranging from country to symphonic rock and all points in between. As always, Rapid River Magazine readers are encouraged to support their local music stores; they’re a big part of what keeps Asheville cool!
Joe Henry
Invisible Hour
Ear Music
These are songs about “marriage as a verb, not a noun” writes the perpetually undervalued Joe Henry in the liner notes for his thirteenth studio album. In doing so he sets the tone for this purposefully connected stream of powerhouse songs; life is tough and growing older can be a struggle, but if you’re going to sign on the bottom line of matrimony you’d better be prepared for the hard work ahead.
Invisible Hour deals with the heavy lifting of relationships, and while it’s a record steeped in love-the real kind that authentic grownups engage in-there’s nary a trace of Pollyanna romance or contrived cynicism. Henry spells things out in terms that are brutally honest, direct, and deeply reflective, all the while giving us a dose of his unparalleled skills as a wordsmith. There’s the fragile nature of relationships (“Sparrow”), the unrequited side of longing (the epic nine minute “Sign”) and the regret that comes with words spoken in anger or unspoken in shame (“The Water Between Us”).
Backed by his longtime band of drummer Jay Bellerose, bassist Jennifer Condos, and multi-instrumentalist Greg Leisz, Henry himself assumes the production chores for Invisible Hour, striping things down to basics (with the tasteful exception of occasional horns and backing vocals courtesy of the Milk Carton Kids) which allows the beauty of the lyrics and Henry’s soulful and dynamic voice to resonate through. The album’s sound is neither overly fussy nor needlessly sparse; after three decades of making records Henry, himself an in demand producer, clearly knows his stuff.
It would be misleading to suggest Invisible Hour sets some new standard for Joe Henry. His register of albums is so consistently brilliant that simply maintaining such a level is impressive enough. But in its own way it does move his music in a new direction, guided by his aging into his 50s as well as his keen mastering of the craft of songwriting and recording. Either way, it’s a haunting and powerful collection of songs by an artist whose creative well seems to never run dry. *****
Amen Dunes
Love (an LP recorded in 2013)
Sacred Bones Records
Amen Dunes is the nomenclature under which Philadelphia native Damon McMahon creates his mesmerizing blend of atmospheric folk and psychedelia. His earliest albums, recorded under his own name, reveled in sprawling layers of overly dense packed rhythms, sonic idolatry, and layered vocals that while garnering a certain degree of hipster press, where somewhat impenetrable affairs.
As such, Love is a startling shift in gears, a sea of change that takes him further away from that point of departure in much the same way Beck’s Mutations was the yin to Mellow Gold’s yang. The result is an album that more clearly defines who McMahon is-an artist-there’s far less gimmick and much more gift. The album kicks off with “White Child” one of his most appealing songs to date and one which hints at what’s to follow. “Lonely Richard” is as close to pop engagement as McMahon is ever likely to get-its lively hook and sing along bounce might be off putting to long-time fans but this is clearly a new and brighter day.
But long-time fans should rest assured that not all is bright and sunny. “Splits Are Parted” and “Lilac In Hand” lean back towards the “weird for weird’s sake” but do so in ways that are far more digestible and likely to stay in your consciousness. The dainty throwaway “Sixteen” is a brilliantly understated gem as McMahon, accompanied only by his playful piano work, sings a lovely lament to romance gone by.
What really sets Love apart is the meticulous ways in which McMahon constructs a series of story arcs that build logically upon themselves. I cannot imagine the songs being sequenced any differently than they are while still retaining the immediacy and depth this album espouses. It’s far and away his most accessible work but that accessibility in no way sacrifices the richness and grace of the songs; and while I generally avoid such simple comparisons, it’s hard not to think that fans of Beck Hansen ought to be embracing this creative and endlessly enjoyable nugget. ****
Craig Bickhardt
The More I Wonder
Stone Barn Records
Subtitled 12 Scenes from Life, Love and Family, the fifth album from folkie Craig Bickhardt is a densely packed collection of ruminative songs, observations of the mundane details of everyday life that are extraordinary in their precision and empathy.
Bickhardt’s voice has a warm and timeless quality to it-equal parts world weary resignation and relentless optimism-that compliments the songs without distracting from them. It also drives home the authority of his lyrics; “…It was always the madness of the drink you were driven to / I guess in the end those were the bars you were singing through…” “Crazy Nightingale” is a pretty fair example of the ways in which Bickhardt can sum up the struggles of the ordinary in a sentence or two.
And while Bickhardt has a knack for the universal, one construct of the album is a deeply personal one; the struggles of his handicapped son. In the liner notes, accompanied by a 20 page booklet of photos and essays, Bickhardt writes about “becoming the father of this very brave kid who has overcome a lot of the challenges he’s faced with cerebral palsy.” It’s a sentiment any parent can relate to and one which speaks volumes about the generosity of spirit and the solid songwriting and performing that gives The More I Wonder its punch. ***1/2
Renaissance
Symphony of Light
MRI/Symphonic Rock Recordings
First a bit of history: Renaissance’s original incarnation was founded in 1969 by ex-Yardbirds members Keith Relf and Jim McCarty, as a neo-progressive folk-rock ensemble. The band released a pair of modestly successful albums before the two departed, essentially turning Renaissance over to then aspiring vocalist Annie Haslam. For the next four decades players would come and go, but Haslam, classically trained and gifted with a three-octave range, has been the mainstay.
Besides Haslam, the lineup featured on Symphony of Light includes Michael Dunford on guitar, the twin keyboards of Rave Tesar and Jason Hart, drummer Frank Pagano, and bassist David Hayes, with all members contributing various levels of support vocals. Sadly, Dunford, to whom the album is rightfully dedicated, died just prior to its completion.
Symphony of Light falls somewhere between folk rock and New Age (a label that carries more negative connotation than it should), with an abundance of lengthy songs, semi-mystical lyrics, orchestral arrangements, and guest appearances by Ian Anderson (of Jethro Tull), and Yes bassist John Wetton, both longtime collaborators and friends. It kicks off to an audacious start – a ten minute plus title track – and consistently returns to its core topics of reawakening, natural beauty, the search for true love and inspiration, and the creative muse within us all.
The sound is deeply layered and meticulous (sometimes overly so) and, buoyed by Haslam’s striking voice (best evidenced on “Cry to The World” and “Renaissance Man”), it’s the sort of album that would appeal to musicians (the sheer musical craft is stunning), and those with a greater spiritual curiosity than I. More than once I found myself largely ignoring the repetitive nature of the lyrics, and focusing on the gorgeous harmonies and intricate arrangements that have long been the trademark of this band.
Few groups have had such distinct histories as have Renaissance, and still fewer groups have consistently reinvented themselves in response to shifting personnel. That alone is worthy of respect. Symphony of Light is not necessarily an album that appeals to my tastes but it’s certainly one I can recommend for those who enjoy New Age music that stirs their consciousness.
I’ll also give props to the album’s gorgeous cover painting – Haslam is an accomplished and committed painter – and to the loving nature that obviously went into its making. With Dunford’s passing there is no telling what future if any is in store for this renowned band but I for one hope they soldier on, following their own journey and doing what they love. ****
Jack Bruce
Silver Rails
Esoteric Antenna
It’s been a full decade since Jack Bruce released a studio album, years during which he lent his creative brilliance to a variety of projects, most notably his high profile and too brief reunion with Cream. His last solo effort, 2003’s More Jack Than God, paired Bruce with producer Rob Cass and found the ever restless Scotsman collaborating with a dazzling array of younger musicians who share his fondness for unwavering experimentation.
For his latest offering Bruce brings back John Medeski and Cindy Blackman Santana, who worked with him on his Tony Williams Lifetime tribute band Spectrum Road, and adds his son Malcolm, guitar legends Phil Manzanera, Robin Trower, and other notables to the mix.
Again pairing with longtime lyricists Pete Brown and Kip Hanrahan, Bruce has written some of the most diverse and complicated songs of his storied career. From powerful rockers (the surprisingly political “Drone”) to the R & B inflected “Reach for the Night” Bruce is in brilliant form, exploring and mastering every musical form he touches.
And while his vocals aren’t as forceful as they once were – after all the man is well into his seventies – Bruce’s bass lines remain as endlessly inventive and supple as ever. In that regard he simply has no match. “Fields of Forever” is a keyboard driven delight (Bruce is a woefully underrated pianist) while “Rusty Lady” takes more than a few lyrical jabs at Margaret Thatcher. “Hidden Cities” is classic Jack Bruce, walking a tightrope between blues, rock, and jazz with distinction and vitality.
But the best is saved for last, ending the album with a flourish; “No Surrender” is a full bore, rock and roll masterpiece, reminding us that while Bruce is an intellectual jazzman, he’s a rocker at heart. Silver Rails is rife with musical surprises, a risk taking and thunderous album that, while not quite the highlight of his long and illustrious career, stands as clear evidence that Jack Bruce is one of the most consistently brilliant and adventurous voices of the past five decades. ****1/2
Wink Keziah
Cowbilly
Great South Records
No one will ever accuse Charlotte, NC, born and raised Wink Keziah of being the most polished or articulate singer around but there’s no denying the rough honesty and “take me as I am” earthiness he brings to the table. And that working man approach plays to his advantage, setting him apart from the mainstream middle of the road country singers who seem to dominate the current music scene.
In the manner of say Ernest Tubb (or to a much lesser extent Johnny Cash) Keziah delivers a realism and gut level directness that ideally matches his music and message. He sings about the everyday nuances of real life with an acute and discerning eye, and if his songs aren’t models of articulation that’s probably okay by him. This is music that’s far more about connection than coolness.
It kicks off with the jaunty “When I Get Paid,” the sort of song you’ve heard before but somehow never gets old, and moves right into the ‘on the road again and missing my family’ solitude of “Cincinnati.” “Dead Man Walking” gives the album some nice emotional oomph while the somber “Time to Move On” cuts right to the core, the level of pain only a broken heart can bring.
Cowbilly might not be an album that’s going to change your life but for a rainy Saturday listen it hits the mark just fine. ***
