Elvis Costello and Burt Bacharach – The Songs of Bacharach & Costello (Super Deluxe). Well, of course, I’m a completist. I own all the Rykodisc and Rhino reissues of Costello’s older albums because they each have some bonus cuts not on the other. So, even though I remembered Painted From Memory as a not-quite fully realized collaboration between two artistic giants, I had to check out the entire three hour magilla of a box set that just came out. The first disc is a gloriously remastered Painted From Memory itself, which does indeed sound better than I remember it, though it suffers from a sameness of misery as Costello tried so hard to capture the pathos of Hal David’s greatest break-up songs. Still, he was in great voice on the record, and the arrangements and some of the tunes are aces. Disc 2 is a mish-mosh, with a couple of previously unreleased collaborative songs, several of the Painted songs performed by others – kudos to Cassandra Wilson (duh) and Bill Frisell, Don Byron, and Jenni Muldaur; alas, Audra Mae is not up to the task, though she gets three shots at it. Disc 3 is live performances, mostly with Costello and Steve Nieve, though Bacharach is along for a Conan O’Brien TV spot. Here, Costello is a bit ragged on vocals – he can get that way on tours. The arrangements are interesting, but nothing is better than the original record. Finally, Disc 4 collects some old Costello performances of Bacharach songs and some powerful live takes of classics with Bacharach leading the orchestra. I don’t know how the different packaging is set up, but I think the 1st and the 4th discs are the keepers. Maybe there’s a way to get them separately?
Willie Nelson – I Don’t Know a Thing About Love: The Songs of Harlan Howard. Harlan Howard came up just a couple years before Nelson got to Nashville, and for a while there, they were among the most successful songwriters in the country field. Nelson, though, had more of an itch to be a performer, while Howard just kept pumping out the hits. I’m ashamed to say most of the songs Nelson chooses for this tribute are new to my ears – “Tiger by the Tail” (originally by Buck Owens) and “Busted” (originally by Ray Charles) being the exceptions. Nelson lovingly embraces all these tales of heartbreak, separation, determination, and exhilaration. And he leaves room for a few delirious licks from Trigger – nobody else plays guitar the way Willie Nelson makes it sound. Another masterpiece from the man who never stops singing.
Iris DeMent – Workin’ On a World. Full disclosure – it took me fifteen years after I first encountered DeMent with her debut album before I could appreciate her singing. I can’t put my brain back into the fog it embraced back then, but once I had my epiphany, I realized she’s one of the best singers out there. That conviction in her voice, that vibrato, that firmness of tone! I love her, and will eat up anything she wants to sing. So, here she comes with a new record which has protest songs and Civil Rights tributes mixed in with her usual storytelling fare. And yes, there is a pro forma laundry list of complaints about the dangers of right wing attitudes in “Going Down to Texas,” but for those who think it’s too on the nose, it might be good to remember the song could probably have another couple dozen verses just from the news in the last few months. I say good on anybody who wants to call attention to it in any way – the wall of awful deserves to be chipped at with every little stick that can be swung. Meanwhile, there is the sheer enthusiasm in the music, the gospel-tinged piano DeMent contributes, the subtle horn additions, the joy found in working on a world we may never see.
Christian McBride’s New Jawn – Prime. Any record that starts off with the delirious cacophony this one gives us, and then settles down to be entirely palatable to ears who prefer all the notes to conform to more or less respectable harmonies, is going to get my attention. I’ve encountered McBride here, there, and sometimes everywhere over the last 30-plus years. He’s a fantastic bass player, capable of playing any supporting role music demands. Here, he leads a quartet featuring Josh Evans on trumpet, Marcus Strickland on tenor and alto saxophones as well as bass clarinet, and Nasheet Waits on drums. Everybody contributes their own compositions, and they bring Larry Young, Ornette Coleman, and Sonny Rollins tunes to the party as well. The music is smart, playful, joyous, and downright infectious.
Kenny Barron – The Source. Just shy of his 80th birthday, and the 50th anniversary of his first album as a leader, Barron releases a rare solo piano recording. With four cuts written by Barron, two each by Billy Strayhorn and Thelonious Monk, and the old jazz standard “I’m Confessin’ (That I Love You),” the album is a delightful display of virtuosity and melodic variation. Barron is first and foremost a lover of melodies, and he never strays too far from what makes these tunes so strong to begin with. Which is not to say he plays them straight – the version of Monk’s “Well You Needn’t” is more discordant and rhythmically disjointed than most familiar takes. Barron has played a vital role in jazz history for a long time, and it’s nice to celebrate his originality on a record which is all his and nobody else’s.
Muscadine Bloodline – Teenage Dixie. This hard rockin’ country band doesn’t believe in slow dances. Instead, they pump up the volume, play fast and furious, and tell intricately shaped, detailed stories at the same time. Owning up to their own faults, the singers blame themselves for hurting their women, imagine themselves desperate enough to rob a convenience store, and create a sequel to “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” that reveals somebody’s grandpa danced with the devil but wound up killing him. And it’s all catchy and anthemic and gets my blood to pumping.
Eyelids – A Colossal Waste of Light. Back in the middle part of the eighties, you could count on most records released on the Restless label to have a certain psychedelic mid-tempo melodic and spacey vibe to them. The model for this sound was the Rain Parade. I’m not saying Eyelids are as good as the Rain Parade was in those days, but they are more than good enough to have gotten a release on Restless if this album was sent back in a time machine. Dreamy, with a nice bounce in the bass and drums, plenty of jangle in the guitars, and a sweetness in the vocal melodies. These guys apparently worked with the likes of Robert Pollard, Colin Meloy, and Elliott Smith, and they get Peter Buck to produce them. If any of those names bring a smile to your face, you might like this record.
Michael Cleveland – Lovin’ of the Game. I only dip my toes in bluegrass waters on rare occasions – I tend to enjoy the genre, but too much of it wears a little thin on me. But, man, when you get a great bluegrass album, there’s nothing more invigorating. This one, under the leadership of fiddler extraordinaire Michael Cleveland, ropes in the likes of the Travelin’ McCourys, Vince Gill, Jerry Douglas, Bela Fleck, and lots more, including Charlie Starr of the band Blackberry Smoke. There’s a sweet take on Gram Parsons’ “Luxury Liner” and a stirring version of Joe Ely’s “For Your Love.” The playing here is breathtaking – all these world class musicians taking turns showing how their chops can fit each particular tune.
Slowthai – Ugly. This British post-punk rapper has made a harsh sounding but somehow inviting record. Describing the ugly side of life around the parts of London that deserve a modern-day Dickens, slowthai rhymes in rhythm, croons over Cure-styled guitars, screams in anger and frustration, and mixes all these styles in some of the same songs. There is humanity here, a focus on trying to figure out how to fight the drugs, and the poverty, and the desperation around him. He may only succeed by continuing to tell the stories around him.
Kali Uchis – Red Moon in Venus. This is her third album, and it took me this long to get acquainted with her music. Uchis is that rare person raised in both Colombia and Virginia. While a lot of her music is whispy, nearly ethereal bedroom r&b cooing, she has plenty of edge, and when she wants to make you dance, she will increase the thump. There are a couple songs partially sung in Spanish, too, which makes for an interesting change of pace. I love both sides of her personality, but perhaps because she ends the album with several harder grooves, I always tend to remember the bangers a little more. Don’t get me wrong – on most dance floors, these would be a little too chill, but for the right mood, they are intoxicating.
Kendrick Scott – Corridors. Drummer Kendrick Scott, who usually works with five and six-piece jazz bands, strips it all down to basics for this trio outing with saxophonist Walter Smith III and bassist Reuben Rogers. Scott wrote all but one of the tunes, and they are all lovely bits of melody with lots of room for improvisational twists and turns. The open space of this piano-less trio format lets each player push and pull on the rhythms. Smith and Rogers dance with the melodies, and the emphasis is on the collective results more than each individual player. Blue Note Records is still a brand that stands for high quality jazz.
Slaid Cleaves – Together Through the Dark. The remarkable thing about Texas singer-songwriters of the last 50-plus years is not just that there are so many of them, but that so many of them have developed their own highly individualistic take on the basic story-telling and guitar arpeggio concept. Cleaves can do that as well as anybody, and he stands out with his clear-eyed vocal approach and sharp delineation of character. But he also has a pop sense, and when he lets the band play on half the songs here, you can forget the lineage and think you’re listening to a hot little bar band with a penchant for hooks and melody. I’ve been following Cleaves for over two decades, and he has consistently mixed these two sides of his personality as far back as I can remember, always to results as good as the ones here.
One Adam One – Where Do I Begin. St. Louis had more than a few classic Americana bands working their own takes on the genre back in the 90s, none more deservedly prominent than Nadine. Although the band went through multiple line-up changes during its ten or so years of striving to gain national attention, it did manage to release five CDs showcasing the songwriting skills and vocal beauty of Adam Reichmann. He’s released a couple of solo recordings in the years since and has now put together a project with Nadine co-founder Todd Schnitzer with some help from the only other full-time Nadine member Steve Rauner. Five lovely songs, melodically enchanting stories told in Reichmann’s slowly unfolding style.
Gina Birch – I Play My Bass Loud. Birch was (is?) the bass player for the Raincoats, who came along around 1980 to play some post punk and get some attention in the rock press. I think I dabbled in listening to their album – heck, I may have bought a used copy back then – but they didn’t impact me the way they probably should have. But here she is, 67 years old, playing her bass loud, ranting against the practicality of stiletto heels (while acknowledging their beauty), insisting on her belief of the need for feminism, and generally raising a ruckus all by her lonesome. A lot of these songs are built on the dub foundations that influenced her band, others are punkier. Most are pretty catchy too.
José James – On and On. The first time I listened to this, I didn’t realize these were all Erykah Badu songs. I mean, some of them sounded familiar, but I wasn’t expecting this jazz singer to be doing a tribute to Badu, and it doesn’t say that’s what he’s up to on the front cover. But, yeah, of course that’s her old hit “On and On” as the title track, and “Green Eyes” and “The Healer” are songs I heard multiple times but a lot of years ago. James calls attention to the jazz influences inherent in Badu, and the saxophone and piano dancing around his vocals bring it to this other world even more. Great singing, great arrangements, great songs – you can’t go wrong.
Islandman – Direct-to-Disc Sessions. This Turkish instrumental ensemble blends their native instruments and melodies with some Western synthesizers and beats. It sounds plenty exotic to this American midwesterner’s ears, and probably sounds like rebellion in the Middle East. At any rate, I found it easy to get into the spirit of these instrumentals, none shorter than 7 and a half minutes, all full of swirling and cascading passages that build into danceable compositions.
The Long Ryders – September November. In 2019, the Long Ryders came back with their first album of original material since the late 80s (back when they were the only people who ever convinced me to go up in the Arch, which made for a great time at the end of interviewing them). Now, they have a follow-up, and one more full-length album will match their original release stats. They sound as good as or better than ever – there is no attempt to get on radio as there was with the sometimes too heavy-handed 80s production back in the day. Songwriting is strong, with Sid Griffin and Stephen McCarthy singing and playing their jangle-rock (with mandolins and fiddle sometimes) with aplomb. Bass player Tom Stevens passed away a couple years back, and the band’s tribute to their departed brother, “Tom Tom,” is lovely and sad.
King Khan – The Nature of Things. I hadn’t heard anything from King Khan in a number of years, which was my fault, not his. Apparently, he’d moved beyond his core garage rock/soul shouter role some time ago. This new album is all instrumental pseudo-jazz. There are saxophones, flutes, something akin to a vibraphone, and other jazz signifiers, but the music also contains rock rhythms and even a reggae bass line over a jazz swing beat. It’s actually quite a bit of fun to experience. Catchy tunes with crazy-quilt variations that aren’t quite solos as more than one instrument can be playing around at the same time.
Miley Cyrus – Endless Summer Vacation. This would be a fine enough album if it didn’t also include one of the most invigorating singles of the year to date. Man, every time I hear “Flowers,” I get giddy experiencing that masterful pop melody combined with self-loving lyrics and Cyrus’s impeccable vocals. She really does possess one of the finest voices in contemporary pop, and she has full control over its use. Cyrus co-wrote everything on the album, and she brings in Brandi Carlile and Sia to lend a hand on a cut apiece. The first half is more upbeat, the back end more low-key, but it’s all impressive stuff.
Erik Hall – Simeon ten Holt’s Canto Ostinato. I don’t delve into minimalist composers often enough, but when I do, it’s very rewarding. Ten Holt was a Dutch composer in the 70s, and his name never made it out into the pop/rock world in which I live. Erik Hall takes the 1976 Canto Ostinato (Obstinate song, in plain English) and plays it on a Steinway grand piano, a Hammond M-101 organ, and a Rhodes Mark 1 electric piano. (The piece does not specify which instruments should be used.) There are 106 musical sections, which can be repeated as often as the performer likes. The rhythm is straight-forward, the musical sections simple enough on their own, and the development across the fifty minute length of this performance is almost irrelevant. You can pay close attention and catch all the minute changes in melodies, or you can put it on as background and pick up bigger changes across time. The whole thing is a beautiful design that shifts nearly imperceptibly and yet leaves you feeling as if you’ve experienced something physically compelling.
Theo Lawrence – Chérie. I have very fond memories of some tiny restaurant somewhere in the area of the lake where my grandparents had their trailer and boat which we visited several times before I was six. There was a jukebox with little substations at the tables – this freaked out my young mind, which couldn’t figure out how they could play the same records. All the songs were country and western, which means all the classics of the first five years of the sixties were in that box with its portals. The highest praise I can give this young Canadian who has steeped himself in the country music which came decades before his birth is that every single one of the twelve songs on this record sounds like something I would have heard on that jukebox in that restaurant. This is retro-country perfection.
Daddy Long Legs – Street Sermons. Here’s a raucous blues-based rock’n’roll bar band that captures the spirit and intensity of its musical forebears. They don’t reinvent the wheel when they conjure up memories of Slade (“Been a Fool Once”), jug bands (“Ding Dong Man” with a guest appearance by John Sebastian, though I’ll be darned if I can notice his voice among the others), the New York Dolls (“Nightmare,” with guest backing vocals by Wreckless Eric, another famous person lost in the mix), and some other blues-rock influences. These guys aren’t virtuosos, but they conjure up sleezy, slimey, sweaty, and sometimes salacious grooves.
Julian Lage – The Layers. The same four players from last year’s View With a Room apparently had some more music in the can, so here comes this six-track mini-album to bring it to our ears. You’ve got Lage as the star guitarist attraction, with Bill Frisell egging him on (mostly as an accompanist, not a soloist). The rhythm section has Jorge Roeder on bass and Dave King on drums. These pieces are a little more abstract than the ones on the last record, and they split time between electric and acoustic guitars. It’s all lovely, a little melancholy, a little seductive.
Finn’s Motel – Last Year’s Leaves. You got fifteen spare minutes? Head over to this St. Louis band’s Bandcamp page and check out these five songs. First, you’ll thank me because you won’t believe any rock group in 2023 can achieve such a perfect sonic mix. Multiple guitars, vocal tracks, bass, drums, even a piano are all clearly and articulately recorded in a bright wide open way. Beyond that, though, these songs would stand out even if the recording was a muddy sludge pit. Songwriter/singer/guitarist Joe Thebeau has been offering high quality rock’n’roll for close to 35 years in a variety of projects, many with the name Finn associated with it. “It’s Not the Same (It’s Better)” just might be his finest moment to date – this is the kind of song that demands replay because you can’t believe anything this melodically rich and lyrically meaningful can rock at the same time. There’s also another catchy number called “Don’t Read It" that includes excerpts from a diary written by then teenage rocker Jane of the St. Louis band the Welders. And, a beautiful take on Tommy Keene’s “Baby Face.”
Cash Box Kings – Oscar’s Motel. This band has been recreating the Chicago blues stylings of the 50s with exceptional accuracy for some 20 years, and I’ve been following along for about a dozen myself. You’ve got be good to be this thoroughly retro and not sound tiresome. Joe Nosek and company write songs that stand up to the classics, and he and Oscar Wilson with their smooth and gruff styles make for complementary vocalists. Stand-outs on this one include “Nobody Called It the Blues” which, with its references to slavery, won’t get it placed in any new textbooks in certain states, and “I Can’t Stand You,” a wonderful duet between Deitra Farr and Wilson complaining about each other’s Facebook insults. Also, an early Christmas present comes in “Ride Santa Ride,” which you’ll swear is a Chuck Berry song you never heard before.
100 gecs – 10,000 gecs. What is a gec, exactly, and how many gecs does it take to produce something this wild, wacky, and downright brilliant? Apparently, Laura Les and Dylan Brady are worth 50 gecs apiece as the two members of the band, and they produce 5000 gecs apiece of sheer delight. Who else could come up with a blistering 90s ska number about having a tooth removed, with a doo wop bridge that plays up all the attempts to keep alive the relationship with said fang? Or create a delirious ode to a friendly frog who needs a beer because his mouth is full of flies and he needs something to wash it down? Their imagination knows no bounds, not least the concepts of good taste, technical ability, or genre limitations. This is the old fashioned kind of punk rock, when creativity and the willingness to be completely wild was more important than doing something everybody else had done before.