Let’s take the chill off winter with a smattering of under the radar new releases, a welcome look back at a seminal rhythm and blues master, and a new glimpse at an older classic. As always I suggest you buy your music at any of the fine locally owned records shops Asheville is so fortunate to have. With rare exception, downloads are a distant second best.
Brian Lisik
the mess that money could buy
Cherokee Queen Records
At first listen the Mess That Money Could Buy sounds no better or worse than any number of soulful roots rock albums by a songwriter with steady chops and unspectacular magnetism.
That’s in no way intended as a knock, but rather as evidence of the vast number of talented musicians who might just as easily have made this record or one much like it. Lisik himself is a solid songwriter-his better songs show traces of all the right influences-and his “early Stones meets Jeff Tweedy” delivery is more than serviceable. He’s also a keen first person observer of his surroundings, infusing such songs as “to California” and “last words” with some clever wordplay indicative of a songwriter with an artist’s ear.
Lisik is largely benefited by a top notch band, delivering enough swagger to elevate even the more pedestrian tunes — several of which go on too long — into a whole better than their parts. The inclusion of cello and violin is a plus while the multi-instrumental contributions of Steve Norgrove should not be understated.
Having said that, the mess that money could buy never fully ignites in ways that might have; still, there’s enough promise here to make me look for Lisik’s next album in hopes of what might be, and in some regards that’s more than enough. ***
A Fragile Tomorrow
be nice be careful
Piewillie Music
Any mention of Mitch Easter is a sure bet to bring out the power pop nerd in this music listener, so the prospect of his co-producing the third album by this South Carolina by way of upstate New York based quartet is indeed tantalizing. Easter, who founded both Let’s Active and Sneakers, two bands that should have made it huge, has always had a keen ear for up and comers. He forged the sound for REM’s nascent records-and was by their own admission instrumental in their success-and has always been a sure bet for quality.
With his latest endeavor Easter moves into some slightly unfamiliar terrain; be nice be careful is a bit more country (rural north rather than southern twang) than you might expect but it’s still full of the sort of joyous pomp that typifies the best of power pop. Think Bangles (both Vicki and Debbi Peterson contribute backing vocals) meets The Kentucky Headhunters and you won’t be too far off.
The songs, particularly the opening “don’t need saving” and “count of both hands” are immediately engaging, and there’s enough catchy hooks to propel even the more lightweight moments. The band itself — identical twins Sean and Dominic Kelly, younger brother Brendan, and Shaun Rhoades — are all solid players whose decade of touring has paid off handsomely.
The music twists and turns in unexpected fashion and rarely slows to a trot, let alone a crawl. The only weak spot might be in vocal arrangements; be nice be careful is surprisingly bereft of the intricate layered harmonies Easter is so nimble at, but the inclusion of the aforementioned Peterson’s, along with frequent Easter co-conspirator Don Dixon, Amy Ray, and Susan Cowsill does help create that cherish wall of sound.
So while be nice be careful is unlikely to have the same impact as such power pop masterpieces as Big Plans for Everybody or Stands for Decibels that’s more a matter of shifting musical tides than anything else.
If the world is primed for another power pop revival — and let’s hope it is — then be nice be careful might just lead the movement. ****
Charlie Parr
Barnswallow
Charlie Parr is an unapologetic throw back, a musician who eschews all hints of modernism for a sound that is both rustic and gut bucket genuine. Accompanied by his wife Emily Parr on vocals and a trio of traditional blues/folk aficionados, Parr serves up eight originals bookended by a pair of time-honored classics.
The beauty of this record is that without a comprehensive knowledge of the genre it’s impossible to know which are which. It’s a record embedded in a particular time and place (in this case rural Minnesota) that manages to bridge that divide while remaining true to its roots.
Having said that, if your tastes run more contemporary, Barnswallow — with its washboard rubbings, piano plunking, and jaw harp screeching — might not be for you. But if you still own that first Dave Bromberg album, and occasionally find yourself humming to Flatt and Scruggs, then Charlie Parr and Barnswallow might be right up your alley. ***1/2
Al Jardine
Postcard from California
Waterfront Music
On only the second solo album of his long career (the first was a 1992 live effort) Al Jardine conjures up a quasi concept album which, at its best, stands against most of The Beach Boys albums of the past two decades and, at its lowest ebb, makes the albeit truncated world tour and eventual release of That’s Why God Made The Radio even more miraculous.
Recorded a full year before their ballyhooed reunion, and originally released as a download via his website only, Postcard comfortably features the familiar themes that the band has relied on for five decades. A through rose colored glasses worship of California, the eternal power of ocean waves, the thrill of sleek cars and sun drenched blondes and a heartfelt plea for environmental stewardship are all notions that Jardine has previously explored-some might say far too often and narrowly-but there’s a sameness to the proceedings that cannot be ignored.
It’s well-intentioned and never threatening (in fact a bit of edge would go a long way here) but it’s an album aimed squarely at the diehard Beach Boy fan, and in that regards it mostly serves its purpose.
A pair of tracks, most notably “Don’t Fight the Sea” and the irrepressible “Waves of Love,” add nicely to the Beach Boys myth. While a harmonica-driven recast of “Help Me Rhonda” reminds us that while Brian was the genius and Carl was the soul of the band, Al Jardine was, and remains, an important piece of the puzzle. He is far more than “the fortunate high school buddy who became a Beach Boy” to which history has unfairly reduced him. ***
Ike Turner
Blues Roots/Bad Dreams
Beat Goes On Music
Few musicians have been as demonized as Ike Turner, whose brutish machinations and physical outbursts have overshadowed his vast musical contributions. There’s certainly no excusing Turner — he was by all counts a bastard of the lowest order — but there’s also no denying that he was one of the decisive figures in early rhythm and blues, a visionary who, by force and nature, helped guide the career of his wife Tina while constructing a bridge between R & B and rock that many others traversed.
Whatever the public’s view of Turner may be, and for all his numerous faults, the fact remains that he was a brilliant musician whose unconventionally creative guitar work could be equal parts blistering and precise. During the peak commercial years for Ike & Tina he recorded a few solo side projects, including this pair originally released by United Artists Records.
1972’s Blues Roots shows a murky swamp funk side of Turner (after all, Izear Luster Turner, Jr. was born in Clarksdale, Mississippi) that might surprise you. His often alcohol and cigarette ravaged voice seems just right for such compelling tracks as “You’re Still My Baby” or the glorious mesh of styles that makes “Right On” so oddly compelling.
The rest of the album is just as perversely entertaining. Backed by a bevy of female singers, doo wop vocals, and whatever else exploded into his fertile (and often cocaine fueled) imagination Blues Roots is in some regards a relic of its time, but it’s also a fascinating glimpse at an artist of singular and determined vision.
1971’s Bad Dreams is an even stranger beast, full of spoken word monologues and other peculiar misses, but it also has some amazing tracks, including an incendiary version of Elmore James’ “Dust My Broom,” a joyous romp with swampy rhythms and girl group backup vocals that builds to a tremendous gospel-like crescendo.
Neither of these obscurities made the least bit of commercial dent (not that he cared) and one can only wonder what UA thought when Turner delivered them.
They may be all over the musical map, and their unevenness makes them simultaneously fascinating curios and frustrating experiences. But they reveal a side of Ike Turner-bandleader, arranger, and producer-that is too often neglected and the sharp, funk tone of his guitar always lurks just around the corner. Part tease, part historical, but never boring might best sum them up. ***1/2
Reissue of the Month: Eric Clapton
Slowhand: the 35th Anniversary Edition
Polydor Records
Receiving a copy of this newly remastered version of what is arguably Clapton’s most highly regarded solo offering was a bit of a shock: Not at the quality of the songs and the performances within, both of which has long since recognized, but that three and a half decades had passed since its initial release.
Good heavens, I remember buying a vinyl copy the day it came out! Following on the heels of The Band homage No Reason to Cry this album has always occupied a curious place in the Clapton canon. While utilizing a decidedly American band, specifically the Tulsa trio of Carl Radle, Dick Sims, and Jamie Oldaker, the production by Glyn Johns is decidedly British.
The resultant effort, organic country on one extreme and antiseptic pop on the other, has not aged well. Its three best known songs, J.J. Cale’s “Cocaine,” Clapton’s own sappy “Wonderful Tonight” and the striving for a radio hit “Lay Down Sally” suffer from both overexposure and dated production.
On the other hand the deliriously mad “Next Time You See Her” and tasty “Peaches and Diesel” sound fresher than they did at the time. The remastering doesn’t seem substantially different from the original mix, which leaves the added tracks as the primary reason for this edition.
Four unreleased recordings, including a flaccid rendering Gordon Lightfoot’s “Looking at the Rain” are interesting but by no means essential while the live tracks aptly demonstrate the spark that Clapton and crew could bring to the stage but rarely the studio. Best of the lot are the rarely played “Steady Rolling Man” and a torrid “Tell the Truth.”
The remaining numbers are fine but if one owns the second Crossroads boxed set that’s really all you need. Meaning if you lack either the original release of Slowhand or Crossroads Volume Two then snagging this is a must. But it’s hard to imagine any serious EC collector not owning those, making the anniversary release a curious thing indeed. ***
