Month: August 2007

Brian Setzer – 13

Brian Setzer is an amazing guitar player who has always played what he wanted, whether it was popular or not – from rockabilly to big-band. But some fans have wanted one album that offered a mixture of his talents. This is it.

13 (named for the number of songs on the record) covers a range of styles, including chunky rock on “Drugs & Alcohol (Bullet Holes)” fueled by a repeated lick while fingerpicked rockabilly chords cover the rest of the ground. The solo is big and as rock and roll as you could ask. If you’ve ever questioned Setzer’s chops, put on “Take a Chance on Love.” It’s an excuse to play guitar. “Back Streets of Tokyo” is a rocker with big riffs and licks with a metal-esque flair (I swear there’s a bit of “Cat Scratch Fever” in there!). “When a Hepcat Gets the Blues” is a swinger that lets Setzer display his jazz skills, and the solo is amazing. And speaking of swing, the instrumental “Mini Bar Blues” has gorgeous solos and harmonized guitars all over the place. Country bends and pinched notes on “Don’t Say You Love Me” combine with Brian’s vocals, and the vocals are as excellent as you’d expect. Whether it’s a full-tilt rocker or the very cool folk and banjo of “The Hennepin Avenue Bridge,” he’s right on the money.

Lyrically, pretty much everything works. Listen for his jab at pretenders on “Really Rockabilly.” Very funny stuff set to playing that would make Carl Perkins smile. Cuts like “Everybody’s Up To Something” and “Broken Down Piece of Junk” also show off his clever side.

It’s nice to hear Setzer cut loose like this after so many thematic albums.

This article originally appeared in VG‘s Feb. ’07 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

Al Di Meola – Consequence of Chaos

Though sometimes lumped in with Carlos Santana, Latin guitarist Al Di Meola is almost his complete musical opposite. Where Carlos plays easy-going, accessible Latin rock, Di Meola delves into the dark, arcane corners of the genre – his music is more than a simple, minor-key melody over a conga groove. It’s intoxicating, compelling, and devilishly complex stuff.

As heard all over Consequence of Chaos, Di Meola elegantly mixes flamenco and Mediterranean textures with all manner of South American tangos and rumbas… all topped with his legendary electric and acoustic guitar chops. Adding to this heady fragrance is a dream team of fusion musicians, including keyboardists Chick Corea and Barry Miles, drummer Steve Gadd, and 6-string bassist John Patitucci.

If you haven’t listened to Di Meola since his Elegant Gypsy and Casino heyday in the late 1970s, however, you may be in for a surprise. The guitarist is a far more subtle and sophisticated composer these days, blending soft acoustic passages with overdriven electric lines at the drop of a hat. For lack of a better comparison, you could say that Di Meola’s recent music is more like a Latin variation on the Pat Metheny’s brand of quietly powerful fusion. Return to Forever, it’s not.

Di Meola’s influences are eclectic, too: rock, jazz, Latin, hip-hop, and more; he crosses musical boundaries at whim. “San Marco” starts with a soft-jazz groove and sultry electric melody, but soon, the guitarist brings in nylon-string licks and more electric work. The lengthy “Turquoise” features nylon-string at the forefront, as well as with piano and intricate percussion. And somehow, Di Meola keeps it from being cocktail music, which it could be in the hands of a lesser musician.

The closest to vintage high-voltage Di Meola would be “Red Moon,” which features fierce electric solos over a steady Latin groove. But for the most part, Consequence of Chaos is more about melody and the sultry, romantic South American music that has obsessed Di Meola for the past 15 years or so. While the famed guitarist may have left the casino years ago, he’s still a riveting guitarist who’s avidly exploring new textures of sound and nuance. And at the very least, here’s one fusion player who’s not pandering to “smooth jazz” radio. Bravo!

This article originally appeared in VG‘s June. ’07 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

The story of Canned Heat has more twists and turns than Spinal Tap’s evolution from the Thamesmen to Spinal Tap, Mark II. Which is why some of the dramatic, lofty claims in the documentary contained in this double-DVD undermine the amazing tale of the band’s actual achievements and history. “In all history,” the narrator intones, “there is one band that truly revolutionized the blues while living the sex, drugs, and rock and roll lifestyle to the fullest.” Really? The Butterfield Blues Band and Cream weren’t revolutionary? Fleetwood Mac didn’t indulge in its share of sex and drugs?

That statement comes at the end of the two-hour documentary, Boogie With Canned Heat, that comes as a bonus disc with the group’s 1973 appearance at the Montreux Jazz Festival. The live disc has its moments, and includes four songs of Heat backing Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown, but the documentary is what makes this package worth owning.

By ’73, one original member of Heat had died, and there’d been several personnel changes – all detailed in the documentary. Original lead guitarist Henry Vestine had rejoined the group, and the two mainstays, singer Bob Hite and drummer Fito de la Parra, were still onboard. But the reshuffled lineup lacked both the charisma and authenticity of the original quintet, and there are a few trainwrecks, especially during the unrehearsed jam with Gatemouth (though it’s still a treat to see the bluesman at the relatively young age of 49).

But there are moments when things gel – particularly on the hits “On The Road Again” and “Let’s Work Together” and, of course, the Hooker-inspired boogie finale – and Vestine takes flight, with Fito prodding him up, up, and away.

The story of Canned Heat is told by de la Parra, along with interview segments of the band’s original manager, Skip Taylor, and original bassist Larry Taylor (no relation). This is actually the toned-down version of the saga; Fito’s book, Living The Blues – Canned Heat’s Story Of Music, Drugs, Death, Sex And Survival offers the unexpurgated version.

Still, there are passages (absolutely true) that could have been culled from This Is Spinal Tap. The band actually set out to be the loudest group in the world, using Blue Cheer as its yardstick, and ended up with 1,200 watts powering eight 2×15 cabinets – just for Vestine! And, referring to a fight between Taylor and Vestine, de la Parra, says in complete seriousness (with his thick Mexican accent), “Henry had just taken a bunch of downers. That’s the worst time to have a meeting.”

The actual heyday of the band (who played both Monterey and Woodstock) is rushed through a bit, considering its relative import. But, between stories of the deaths of visionary Al Wilson, frontman Hite, and one-time guitarist Hollywood Fats, there is plenty of rare footage of the band playing live – usually unedited, complete songs – with Vestine, Harvey Mandel, and Fats (Mike Mann). Unfortunately, the chronology leaps 15 years forward at the end – skipping the great Junior Watson’s tenure as guitarist – to mention Vestine’s 1997 death.

This article originally appeared in VG‘s Aug. ’07 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.