Month: January 2005

Okay, I’m not sure how to approach this one… The band is a trippy mix of jazz, rock, folk, and everything in between. There’s a definite Grateful Dead vibe, and that’s part of my problem. I was never a Dead fan. I like a few tunes, but mostly found them boring as hell. There’s some of that here, too. The vocals here sound like leftovers from San Francisco ca. ’67.

The lyrics are… well, the kindest description would be goofy, trippy, and child-like. That said, the band cooks, and guitarist Tim Palmieri is as amazing a player as I’ve heard in awhile. He can do it all. Check out “Tribal Funk Affliction.” Like many of the tunes here, it’s broken up in sections. First, Palmieri flies on a solo that would put dozens of ’70s fusion guitarists to shame. Then he rocks like a madman. “See the Light” moves from a rock ballad into a jazzy-Latin section that again showcases Palmieri’s chops. He definitely knows his way around a wah-wah pedal too. “What the Funk” and the afore-mentioned “Tribal Funk Affliction” let him show that, with the latter becoming a funkfest fueled by his rhythm guitar.

These are amazing musicians. And Palmieri is as good a guitarist as you’ll run across in the rock idiom. If a late-’60s vibe (think San Francisco and the Dead), not Beatles or Allmans, or MC5, are your thing, you’ll love this. For me, it was enough to love Palmieri’s guitar playing and leave it at that.

Pat Metheny has played in a lot of contexts in recent years. Lots of duos, lots of work with jazzers of different ilks, and, of course, his own group. I like his playing almost anywhere, but I like the stuff with the Pat Metheny Group the best. So, needless to say, I was looking forward to the new album.

It doesn’t disappoint. Like many of the group’s records, it fits together nicely. In fact, it almost seems like a book that reads from chapter to chapter. I don’t know that I’d say there’s a theme, but it is musically seamless. Through it all, Metheny shines on guitars and guitar synth. It’s easy to forget that guitar synth actually can sound good until you hear it in the hands of someone who knows how to use it as a nice solo voice. For plain-old displays of chops, it’s hard to top the likes of “Proof” and “Afternoon.” Effortlessly running through the changes with imagination, and still having an edge is a real gift. It’s a gift Metheny definitely possesses. There’s some beautiful acoustic work on songs like “Another Life.” And the band is, as always, fine.

If you’re a fan of the group, you’ll love this. If you’re not familiar start here, then move to the other stuff. Metheny is one of the greatest jazz players of his generation, and this shows why.

Anyone who’s surprised at the stylistic diversity of the latest offering from Charlie Musselwhite hasn’t been paying close attention to the blues icon’s path. On Rough News, from ’97, he slipped in some Brazilian street music, and on 1999’s inspired Continental Drifter he teamed with the Buena Vista Social Club’s Eliades Ochoa. But as far back as his 1967 debut, Stand Back!, when he put his stamp on trumpeter Donald Byrd’s jazz hymn “Cristo Redentor,” Musselwhite has repeatedly shown that he is first and last a bluesman, but one interested in growing artistically.

“Blues is a feeling, and not confined to a theoretical musical structure,” he writes in the liner notes. And on One Night he injects that feeling into an eclectic mix of straight blues, country, and Americana, resulting in one of his most creative, most satisfying ventures yet.

At 58, Musselwhite is the premier blues harpist working today. Now, before you say, “What about . . .” – and start listing players whose main qualification is that they can play a lot of notes, let me ask you this: Can they make you well up and cry from just one bent note? Can they play something so unexpected it makes you smile? Can they make you afraid to walk into a darkened room, or make you want to stop what you’re doing and call your mother? Well, Musselwhite can. Call it depth, or soul, or mileage; he’s got it all – in abundance.

The CD’s theme, Charlie explains, is his experience growing up in Memphis – although the thread that ties the songs together is atmospheric, a feeling; this is not a nostalgic ride on the Wayback Machine. Guitarist G.E. Smith and bassist T-Bone Wolk (yes, those versatile alumni of Hall & Oates and countless others) are the two constants throughout the dozen tracks, and provide stellar, tasteful support with alternating drummers Per Hanson (of Ronnie Earl’s band) and Michael Jerome (with whom Charlie played on the Blind Boys of Alabama’s Spirit Of America). Charlie plows into Johnny Cash’s “Big River” as though it were recorded in Excello Records’ chicken coup, eliciting G.E.’s most spirited solo, while “Trail of Tears” gets a funkier second-line feel than Nick Lowe’s version – this time with in-the-pocket solos from Musselwhite, Smith, and Charlie’s sideman from 30 years ago, guitar great Robben Ford.

The blues/country axis is perhaps best illustrated by “Cold Grey Light of Dawn,” which sounds about as country as you can get, even though it was written by ’50s rhythm & blues star Ivory Joe Hunter. Whatever it is, Charlie & Co. sound totally at home here, as they do on a killer reworking of Los Lobos’ “One Time One Night” – the East Angelinos’ jangly root-fifth feel replaced by T-Bone’s pumping, on-the-one eighth-notes and G.E.’s fine Chuck Berry licks.

In an album without a weak spot, other highlights include the dark, spooky gospel original “Ain’t It Time;” Ford’s biting solo on Jimmy Reed’s “Ain’t That Lovin’ You, Baby” – which follows his (and Charlie’s) jazzier forays on the instrumental “I’ll Meet You Over There” – and Marty Stuart’s simple but snaky twang on “In a Town This Size.” The latter is a melodic country duet by Charlie and Austin’s Kelly Willis, who sounds more relaxed, less self-conscious than on her own recordings.

“I took a dark road, ’til I found the sun,” Charlie sings on “In Your Darkest Hour,” his voice and acoustic harp backed by nothing but T-Bone’s bass. It has indeed been a long, often hard road for Musselwhite, but today he is at the peak of his powers and on a creative roll. Run out and buy this CD so you’ll have something for him to autograph when he comes to your town. Not to be missed.

Sometimes its hard to tell whether the good Reverend Horton Heat is a musician, comedian, or conceptual artist. Revival attempts to define him in musical and cultural terms. His three-piece band burns through 15 good-time rockabilly tunes that showcase his wit and solid guitar playing. The initial pressing also includes a DVD with three live tracks and a documentary that puts Heat’s music and persona into historical context. Cool.

I enjoyed Nick’s first effort and was quite excited to hear this followup. And I wasn’t disappointed. You’ve got to love a guy who mixes T-Bone Walker, Little Richard, and everything in between, wears a fur coat on his CD cover, and is never without perfectly slicked back hair and sunglasses. Of course, it also helps that the 14 cuts here contain every bit as much cool as the image and influences.

Lest you think Nick a poser, know that he understands the blues of the West Coast and the rock of the ’50s about as well as anyone I’ve heard in a while. His clean, T-Bone-style chops highlight the swing of “Honey Bee,” while the instrumental “The Groovy Jam” lets him mess around a bit on the six-string. By the time he’s done, you know he’s not afraid to step outside the typical guitar clichés. If you do like it in the pocket, with flair, give a listen to “Down Boy Down.” Nick’s solo carries the day on this stompin’ West Coast blues.

While Nick proves time and again he can play his instrument, it’s the vocals that grab you by the throat. He’s a shouter in the Little Richard vein on songs like the title cut and “Heeby Jeebies.” He can sing a love song like “What About Love” and make the girls swoon. Check out his growl on the menacing blues of “Evenin’.”

There’s nice help throughout the record, especially from Kim Wilson, who plays harmonica on three cuts. You gotta love this stuff. It’s easy to see why Nick is winning W.C. Handy Awards. He’s the real deal.

Tony Rice and the words “bluegrass guitar” are rarely, if ever, separated. Along with Doc Watson, Dan Crary, and Clarence White, Tony Rice has had more influence on modern flatpicking than anyone else. This new anthology from Rounder shows the breadth and scope of Tony’s remarkable technique and musicality.

Joined by a veritable who’s who of bluegrass greats including Darol Anger, Bobby Hicks, Rickie Simpkins, Richard Greene, Vassar Clements, Stuart Duncan and Sam Bush on fiddle, David Grisman, Larry Rice, Doyle Lawson, Norman Blake, Sam Bush, John Reischman, and Jimmy Gaudreau on mandolin, Todd Phillips, Mark Schatz, and Ronnie Simpkins on bass, J.D. Crowe on banjo, Jerry Douglas on dobro, and Doc Watson, Wyatt Rice, and Norman Blake on guitar, this all-instrumental album covers material from fourteen different albums. Although the sound quality varies from acceptable to excellent, the musicianship remains stellar throughout. Rice’s groups show that even on overexposed material such as “Blackberry Blossom” or “Bill Cheatham” great musicians have something fresh and new to say.

Much has been written about Tony Rice’s main axe, a 1935 Martin D-28 whose previous owner was none other than Clarence White. The CD’s cover features a close-up of the bullet hole in its top. Tony acquired the guitar in 1975, and has played it almost continuously ever since. He does not pamper it. The day after playing on Rockygrass’s rainy outdoor stage in Lyons, Colorado, I watched him spread cigarette ash on its top to absorb some of the moisture it picked up during his waterlogged set. I’ve played his guitar. The action is so low that only Tony can produce buzz free sound from its electric-like set-up. In the hands of mere mortals it sounds just like another poorly set up old guitar instead of the flattop holy grail.

The label “must have album” is often bandied about, but in the case of Tony Rice, The Bluegrass Guitar Collection it is anything but hyperbole. Every aficionado of flatpicked bluegrass-style guitar needs to have this disc in their collection.

Yes, it’s true, this one came out some time ago, but it has occupied space on my listening stack for a long time. The Headhunters have been “popular” for more than 15 years, and they were a band 20 years before that. They still sound great, and one of the constants has been the wonderful Greg Martin on lead guitar.

Not surprisingly, Martin’s playing on this album is the epitome of tone and taste. There is, as the title would suggest, a bit of southern soul music, and Martin’s sliding fifths and beautiful chord arpeggios help define a couple of the songs. How ’bout Gospel-driven soul with Beatlesque chimey guitars? Good, old-fashioned loud blues-influenced rock and roll makes an appearance on “We All Need It.” Perfect big fat notes and that hot-knife-through-butter tone are hallmarks of the sound Martin’s had since day one with the Headhunters. There are some other fun tunes. “Last Night I Met Carl Perkins” has a great lyric, and the rockabilly guitar stylings you’d expect from a song with that title. “Lookin’ For Mr. Perfect” is a funky rocker with a guitar figure that fits perfectly, and a clean/loud solo that is pure Gibson heaven.

This album doesn’t show us anything new. But this is a batch of fellas, led by a guitarist of rare taste and quality, that really get it. So you get 11 quality songs that leave you smilin’ at the end of the day. That’s no small feat in this age of rock and roll.

Singer/songwriters are a lot like fleas during the summer; they’re everywhere, but you don’t notice them until they bite you someplace sensitive.

Greg Trooper writes songs that can penetrate even the thickest skin and reach right down to your heart. Floating, Trooper’s first release for Sugar Hill, certainly isn’t his first album.

In ’86, Trooper released We Won’t Dance, and in ’92 his second, Everywhere. During this period Trooper toured extensively, playing clubs in the States and Europe. After settling down in Nashville, he released three more albums, Noises in the Hallway in 1996, Popular Demons in 1998, and Straight Down Rain in 2001. Many top-flight artists, including Vince Gill, Steve Earle, and Billy Bragg, have covered Trooper’s tunes.

What sets Floating apart from most singer/songwriter albums is the power of the performances. Recorded in producer Phil Madeira’s small home studio, most of the tracks are semi-live, with a core ensemble of Trooper, Maderia on keyboards, Dave Jacques on bass, and Steve Hindalong on percussion. Afterward, drums and other instruments were added. Session musicians included Buddy Miller and Mike McAdam on electric guitars, Jake Armerding on mandolin and fiddle, and Jill Paquette, Claire Mullally, Buddy Miller, and Will Kimbrough on backing vocals. Trooper’s material is certainly worthy of these fine players’ attentions.

The title song typifies Trooper’s songwriting prowess. At first it seems a tome to sylvan aquatic pursuits, but by the third verse turns into a dark tale of guilt buried deep in the mists of the past. While many artists are mining the rich vein of music known as “Americana,” Trooper’s songs exemplify the individualistic pioneering spirit of the best of this new genre.

I’m a jaded old sod, and very rarely does an album from someone who I’ve never heard before grab me as hard as Floating. This is the real thing, the good stuff, something you grab hold of and keep close because it’s valuable. You need this album.