Recording review - Bohannons, Black Cross, Black Shield (2015)

Missed connections and missing links

^2.25/5.0

Did you ever have one of those first dates that started out so promising, but then left you checking your watch, waiting for it to be over? It's like the person could hold it together for the first five or six minutes, but no matter how intriguing and cool they seemed then, the rest of the evening had them unraveling until you wondered if that first impression was just a fluke. Maybe you even began to question your earlier enthusiasm. That's exactly where I find myself with Bohannons' Black Cross, Black Shield.

The title track starts out awesome, opening with a heavily compressed guitar riff joined shortly afterwards by a harmonized guitar in the foreground. The tone has the visceral slam of AC/DC, but with a mellower retro blues rock pace. The reverberating vocals line up quite nicely with that, giving me a good idea of what it might sound like if Mick Fleetwood fronted a Black Sabbath tribute band. The droning guitars and thick pentatonic riffs conjure up a raw intensity. The bridge turns to old school psychedelia, reminding me of Status Quo's "Pictures of Matchstick Men", and I'm caught up in the hypnotic swirl of distorted guitars. The best part is that it keeps showing kaleidoscope flashes of almost recognizable riffs: a touch of "Iron Man" here, a smear of "Sister Ray" there.

So, six minutes in, I'm thinking this could be the start of something great and I settle in for more. The Bohannon brothers' twin guitar assault continues on "White Widow". The classic rock vamp at the start isn't as catchy as the first track, but the band still plows into the full sound with enthusiasm. The music is pretty decent and the lead near the end throws in some speedier runs, but the initial attraction is starting to fade, in large part because the lyrics can't hold the song together. They sing the lines with gusto, but it's hard to pull a linear theme from lines like, "Who's to say you're out of touch/ Just because you feel so much/ I just got born/ And then I died."

From here, the die is cast: the solid guitar work can never quite overcome the vague or repetitive lyrics. Bohannons slog through a string of hard hitting garage rock, but they never find the momentum that seemed so natural on the title track. Songs like "Dias de Los Muertos" or "Lightning and Thunder" plod along and never really deliver any satisfaction. The best of the lot, "Death and Texas", has a righteous Neil Young shred (in fact it's fairly derivative), but the platitudes about illness and loss offer little insight: "To watch you fade / Day by day / Has got me a little down on God / And his mysterious ways."

I toughed it out to the end, hoping I could salvage some of the magic of that initial taste. The final tune, "Red, White, Black and Pale",  is a doom-filled, apocalyptic vision but it doesn't measure up to anything Mike Doughty wrote for his recent ambitious musical, Revelation: A Rock Opera. So, no magic miracles to save the day. It's rare to turn so sharply from hot to cold on an album like this, and I began to doubt my memory. Was I suckered in somehow at the start or did Bohannons lead with an uncharacteristically strong tune? Unlike a disastrous date, there was an easy way to check the facts. I steeled myself, hit replay, and dove back into "Black Cross, Black Shield".

On the second listen, I still enjoyed the song's classic metal grind and dynamic pacing, but I also noticed some cracks in the facade. In particular, the similarity between the chorus and Harry Chapin's "Cat's in the Cradle", became impossible to ignore, even though the band cloaks it in wailing guitar tone. That revisit makes it easier for me to send Black Cross, Black Shield on its way with no regrets. It's not fundamentally flawed, but we're just not compatible after all.

Recording review - The Delta Routine, You and Your Lion (2015)

Bluesy twang and a transparent agenda

^3.25/5.0

Southern rock formed like a metamorphic mineral deposit when blues, country, rock and folk were combined and transformed under the social pressures below the Mason-Dixon Line. While the West Coast hippies spiraled off into loosely structured jams, bands like the Allman Brothers captured a laid back country blues that built on relatively coordinated musical arrangements. Later, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Molly Hatchet, and others expanded on the sound, but the country influence grounded the music with a folksy genuineness that contrasted with more flamboyant psychedelic excursions. Listening to The Delta Routine, with their plaintive laments and Antebellum dignity, you can tell they've drawn from the same well. The big surprise is that they're from Milwaukee, not Macon. They’re too raw and earthy to be dismissed as posers; instead, it marks them as disciples of the Southern diaspora, as well as the Americana legacy of bands like Uncle Tupelo.

You and Your Lion is chock full of bluesy twang, but unlike most Southern rock albums, it rarely slips into simple blues progressions. Instead, The Delta Routine shows a lot of versatility, relying on vocal tone and guitar style to pull it all together into a coherent sound rather than repeating a simple formula. Their big tent has room for James Gang style jams like “On a Saturday Night”, but also the stripped down drag beat of “Chains Off Me”, and they seem just as happy to lean towards the Rolling Stones as Commander Cody or the Georgia Satellites. When the band does drift further afield from the Southern rock mainline, such as the staccato Latin beat of “Nothing on Me” or the bouncy indie rock on the title cut, the rootsy flannel of Nick Amadeus’ voice reinforces the connection back to an Americana tone.

The Delta Routine deserve respect for creating that consistent feel without falling into a rut. But if there’s a Achilles heel here, it’s in the relative transparency of the songs: the band’s versatility is engaging, but each track is fairly straightforward. To some extent, that’s refreshing -- a solid hook and little lyrical pretension trumps the tortured artist who drapes their issues behind overworked metaphors and oblique allusions. On the other hand, I miss the intricate formation playing that Skynyrd or the Allmans were known for and these songs make their biggest impact on the first listen.

Still, the impact can often be quite effective. In particular, “Home With You” builds quite nicely, with a stark opening that lashes the raspy vocals to a light wash of accordion before rising into a fuller wall of instrumentation. Each verse starts out with a melodic tag that borrows from “Mother’s Little Helper” by the Rolling Stones, and the familiar riff and chugging bass evoke that song’s fatalistic sense of overwhelming outside forces. But the more assertive chorus shows that The Delta Routine hasn’t surrendered just yet. The contrasting pulls of the verse and the chorus give the song some emotional weight and the loose, down home family jam arrangement lends it a patina of sepia-toned tradition.

You and Your Lion isn't a life changing album, but just like a backyard pig roast or Fourth of July picnic, it's a comfortable ritual that most of us can relate to and enjoy, whether we're Southerners or not. In that, The Delta Routine's name is completely appropriate, even in Wisconsin.

Recording review - Lonesome Shack, More Primative (2014)

Evocative and restless, simplicity offers a rich palette

The guitar strings pop and tick like a cooling engine, hinting at long drives and endless roaming. The smell of hot blacktop seems to hang in the background of each of Lonesome Shack's heavy blues cuts on More Primitive, along with an acrid hint of Southern pine. There's no question that the Seattle trio is a blues revival group; you can hear their reverence for classic moans and foot stomping grooves. While they've clearly listened to their share of John Lee Hooker, Muddy Waters, and Slim Harpo, you can hear the influence of follow-on interpreters like Duane Allman, Billy Gibbons, and Jack White in the mix as well. But unlike the crowded room sound of the Allman Brothers or the electric burn of ZZ Top, Lonesome Shack emulates their bluesman heroes and locks into the simplicity of a shuffling guitar and wavery vocals. While they round out the sound with light bass and a bare-bones rhythm, each song falls into a hypnotic trance of restless guitar vamps.

More Primitive opens with their moody lead single, "Wrecks", which taps into the dark boogie beat of John Lee Hooker's "Boogie Chillin'". The steady bass throb and unadorned drumbeat both stand back to give the moaning guitar and reedy vocals room to dance. The video dubs some feral dogs barking into the background, but the album version knows that those theatrical touches are unnecessary. The tempo builds and Ben Todd's playing is almost frantic as he and the band reach the end of their rope after they sing the final chorus, "Now she's gone/ So gone/ If only I could tell her how I feel." But it's too late for anything but the regret.

The title track is a great example of how Lonesome Shack can bottle up nervous tension. Kristian Garrard pits his kick drum against the snare and Luke Bergman's bass adds an implacable force. By contrast, Todd's vocal is defiantly casual, "All I want to do/ Is hammer and swing." The relentless repetition of the main groove perfectly supports the idea of wanting to live "more primitive." The tune ties in with the band's mythology, which is rooted in Todd's time living in the lonesome shack he built himself in New Mexico's Gila Wilderness.

Despite the grounded purity of Lonesome Shack's blues aesthetic, the band never falls into formulaic patterns. Part of this is because they harness adaptable vamps rather than a 12-bar structure. This another lesson they've learned at Hooker's feet and it means that the songs don't smear together into an undifferentiated mass. The beats vary and Todd changes up his delivery to connect to different facets of his personality. So, the trapped feel of "Medicine" is completely different than the matter-of-fact fatalism of "Trying To Forget". The last two tracks offer some bigger changes, with a stutterstep rocker ("Big Ditch") and a jazzy "Dazed and Confused"-style turn ("Evil"), but these songs still preserve the open sonic space that makes this such a strong album. It's the sound of bug zappers sparking on a sweltering summer night or the Sunday morning dew misting off the front porch rail. It's a mainline into introspective memory. It's exactly what Lonesome Shack claims, it's More Primitive.

Recording review - Black Joe Lewis, Electric Slave (2013)

Sonic change-ups muddle the band's direction

Some things never change. Oh, the record label can change. They can have the band streamline and change their name. They can even bring in a new producer to change the sound. With the opening grunge grind of “Skulldiggin”, Black Joe Lewis makes it clear that Electric Slave is not covering the same old ground of Tell ‘Em What Your Name Is! and Scandalous. The thick acid rock tones still have a taste of blues, but the raw, primal sound of titanic guitars is far from the funk-soul tribute vibe that they cultivated on their earlier albums. Evoking bands like Nirvana, Black Sabbath, and the White Stripes, it makes sense that they’d drop “and the Honeybears” from the band name.

In fact, it’s not until the third track, “Dar es Salaam”, that Joe Lewis remembers to pull out his James Brown impression. The short, declarative verse lines and the song’s soul roots thread back to the band’s older material, but the heavy beat is driven with a newfound psychedelic bass. The horn arrangement adds a touch of Afro-beat, but the guitar riff and Lewis’ singing are the main focus. The tension between the horns and the hard rock guitars makes this my favorite example of the band’s new direction; the coordinated brass accents defy the essentially loose feel of the rhythm section, but the combined jam feels locked into the moment. The only thing that hasn't really changed is Lewis’ slurring vocal style. It’s almost impossible to pick up on all the lyrics.

While there’s plenty of soulful blues and psychedelia, Electric Slave often draws on a thrashy punk attitude to make its musical point. The punches aren't always in synch, but the group doesn't seem too concerned with sonic consistency as long as they find the right level of nervous energy. I appreciate the pacing and it’s good to hear Black Joe Lewis broaden their sonic footprint, but the collection doesn't have a coherent flow to maximize the impact. It just doesn't make any sense to follow the trippy madness of “Skulldiggin” with the hyped up punk-a-billy of “Young Girls.” The low-fi garage production fits, but nothing else meshes. A few songs later, the group blends garage rock and greasy new wave for “Guilty”, which pairs the guitar with a baritone sax in a buzz-saw grind. A tenor coarsely wails over the top for the first solo, borrowing a trick from Romeo Void’s “Never Say Never”. It’s a great song but has little in common with soul funk of the next track, “Come To My Party”, which gets closest to the band’s earlier tunes.

The remaining constant across the band’s catalog is that the studio only captures a shadow of their stage performance. If Jim Eno's production on the first two albums suggested a sweaty soul band fresh in from the Chitlin' Circuit, then producers Stuart Sikes (White Stripes, Cat Power) and John Congleton (Explosions in the Sky, St. Vincent) evoke their own versions of brick echo, heat and jam-packed dives on this project. As Lewis hollers his way through each tune and the band pushes forward with abandon, it’s a cinch to imagine how much wilder it would be in real life. That’s a fitting reaction, given that Lewis intends Electric Slave as a commentary on society’s obsession with technology. Here’s to hoping that they order their set lists better than the track listing here.

{This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture}

Recording review - Vieux Farka Touré, Mon Pays (2013)

Following in his father's footsteps, reminding Malian's to remember their forefathers

At some point, every kid wants to grow up to be just like his dad someday. When your dad is Ali Farka Touré, known as Africa’s John Lee Hooker, then those are some bigger shoes to fill. The challenge was even harder after Ry Cooder introduced him to a wider American audience with their 1994 collaboration, Talking Timbuktu. Vieux Farka Touré spent a childhood steeped in his father’s music, which found a soulful, spiritual middle ground between Hooker’s ruminative blues and the bright tones and layered polyrhythms found throughout African music. By turns exotic, joyful and haunting, Ali Touré created beautiful music up until his untimely death in 2006.

Perhaps because his own recognition came late in life—he was nearly 50 when he achieved international acclaim — Ali Touré tried to discourage his son from becoming a musician. But Vieux Touré persevered at learning guitar and he eventually recorded his own music. By his third studio album, The Secret (2011), he was already making his own crossover move, playing with Derek Trucks, Dave Matthews and jazz great John Scofield. By contrast, Mon Pays marks a return to his father’s earlier acoustic sound. This time, instead of popular Western collaborators, he’s largely working with other African musicians, most notably kora player Sidiki Diabaté, son of the renowned Toumani Diabaté.

The new album is a response to the current strife in Mali. What began as a multi-faceted insurrection in 2012 has now splintered into chaos. In the regions they control, Islamic rebels in the North of the country have imposed strict laws that include bans on music. A Muslim himself, Touré has spoken out against this kind of cultural genocide, “Music for us is life…Without music, we are robbed of our identity.” So Mon Pays (“My Country”) is an assertion of that identity and a reminder to his fellow Malians about their rich heritage. Despite this somber inspiration, Touré’s songs are uplifting, with a sense of optimism.

Touré evokes his father’s spirit on songs like the meditative “Yer Gando” and the moody “Safare”. This latter track has a more direct connection as a cover of one of his father’s songs, but Touré’s guitar work is spot on. The tune opens with a fluid melodic line that blends DNA from Delta blues guitar with a keening West African kora. The group drops back to a droning blues sound to support the chanted chorus. Touré’s voice is a little rougher than his father’s, but the song serves as a loving tribute.

More than just Touré’s guitar, the songs on Mon Pays showcase the versatility of the kora. The upper register of this harp-like instrument offers delicate chiming tones that have a distinctly Asian character. On the jazzy “Doni Doni”, the timbre is like a harpsichord, but the riffs are more reminiscent of a shamisen. “Future”, on the other hand, begins with a tentative koto sound then balances the kora and guitar into an amalgam of folk traditions: Malian, Japanese and American blues. As a response to the troubles in Mali, this sweetly simple instrumental offers a hopeful vision of peaceful cooperation.

The album closes on a soulful note with “Ay Bakoy”. The song is built on a piano melody by Israeli keyboardist Idan Raichel. The two men met several years ago, but just released an album together last year, The Tel Aviv Session. Despite the differences in their backgrounds, they each bring an open-minded musical approach that thrives on collaboration. “Ay Bakoy” is a fine example of how well they mesh. Raichel’s main theme sounds like a melancholic reworking of “House of the Rising Sun” and Touré’s vocals are appropriately doleful. But the song finds a core of strength and rises from its mournful base to bring a message of encouragement.

Touré speaks more to his own people through these songs than he does to the rest of the world, but his pain, hope and unbowed spirit shine through. Even without the language skills to understand his lyrics, listeners will appreciate the music and vocal expressiveness on Mon Pays and they’ll recognize his earnest vision of a reunited Mali.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Concert review - Vieux Farka Touré with New World Citizen Band

Tuesday, 6 August 2013 (The Walnut Room, Denver CO)
After listening to Vieux Farka Touré's new album, Mon Pays (read my review on Spectrum Culture), I was excited to catch him live and I was lucky enough to see him at the Walnut Room. It was a perfect venue: small enough to be intimate, but room enough to surrender to the rhythm and dance.

New World Citizen Band

Before the show, I spent some time talking to singer Venus Cruz from the New World Citizen Band. Aside from finding out that she hosts the "Jazz Odyssey" show on Denver's KUVO, it was clear that she and her bandmates were well grounded in African music. The lineup is a subset of the Greg Harris Vibe Quintet, but for this group, bandleader Harris centers their sound on his Ghanaian wood xylophone, the gyil.


The gyil has a very distinct character. Calabash gourds act as resonators for the wooden keys, but the gourds have a kind of membrane that buzzes, giving the instrument a hybrid sitar/steel drum sound. Even though Harris built up some interesting melodies on the gyil and his amplified kalimba, their songs formed a study in polyrhythms and interlocking parts.


The set opened with echoing kalimba and a relaxed groove that felt like a Dreamtime exploration. With fellow percussionist Ido Ziv and bass player John Grigsby, Harris let the instrumental flow casually build complexity. Eventually, Grigsby's bass slid into a repetitive, twisting pattern that snaked through the competing percussion parts. It felt very heady until Cruz stepped in and grounded the song with her powerful vocals. Her contribution was particularly strong a few songs later on "Baby, Don't Do That To Me".


She gave the song a righteous Motown vibe, passing from sassy to deeply soulful as she improvised her way through the lyrics. But the arrangement got its global feel by trading guitars, keys, or horns for interplay between the bass and the gyil. The surprise turn came after Ziv's conga solo, when the song sped into double time.

The New World Citizen Band was a good opening act for Vieux Farka Touré. They offered a taste of Africa and got the audience ready to move.

Vieux Farka Touré

On Mon Pays, Vieux Farka Touré paid homage to Mali's musical tradition and his father's characteristic sound. Just as Ali Farka Touré played with kora player Toumani Diabaté, their two sons teamed up in the studio, with Sidiki Diabaté on kora. The tour, however, relied on a minimalist line up with Touré accompanied by a bass player and a drummer/percussionist. While I was disappointed that I wouldn't get to hear the Asian-tinged tones of the kora, it faded quickly as I became entranced by Touré's playing.


The first tune had the drummer playing a simple beat on large, resonant calabash with thin metal sticks: imagine someone playing a half globe with long Allen wrenches. Then Touré started a hypnotic melody line, full of floating trills. Eyes closed, he fell under his own spell as the groove swayed and swelled. Without a larger band contributing complexity, it was much easier to hear how the guitar and bass coordinated their parts. On the second song, he set up a simple, folky blues progression, then filled the holes with fluid runs as the bass line trailed along, shadowing his riffs.


As much as I enjoyed Mon Pays, I realized that Touré is much more engaging in person. His playing was wilder as he fed off the crowd's energy. His lightning hammer-on/pull-off runs blended bluegrass with speed metal. Watching closely, I saw that his technique was sometimes similar to a clawhammer banjo style. Alternatively, he could execute phenomenal tonal control by alternating between muted, bare-finger attacks and ringing finger pick strikes. One of the best tunes of the night, "All The Same", had a chord structure somewhere between "Hey Joe" and Bob Seger's "Turn The Page". Touré started out the song with soulful, downtempo feel. Then, switching between soft and sharp riffs, he set up a guitar conversation with himself until it the song rose to a transcendent affirmation. He played like Jimi Hendrix, intense and expressive with a natural sense of harmony, but without playing a single Hendrix riff.


Although he didn't provide much in the way of patter, his personality shined. Trading an amused glance with the bass player, Touré might start to dance, then challenge the bassist to join in. At other times, he'd screw up his face, lost in the emotion of the song. Most of his comments were in a mix of French and English. In particular, he wanted us to join in with the rhythm of the music. The peak moment came when the show transformed into a dance party, with members of the audience coming up on stage to show off their moves while Touré smiled on.


After the show, sitting at the back of the room signing CDs and collecting donations for Mali, he seemed as thankful for an attentive audience as we were for his music.

More photos on my Flickr.

Recording review - Jimi Hendrix, People, Hell, and Angels (2013)

Digging up Jimi's bones, one more time

Jimi Hendrix’s posthumous musical fragments are more plentiful than pieces of the True Cross. While they probably have better provenance than Christ’s relics, we’re still picking over Hendrix’s bones. American culture has always been celebrity-obsessed and Jimi is a perfect candidate: he was charismatic, he transformed the electric guitar and he died young with too much potential. James Dean, Lenny Bruce and John Keats may have all been lost before their time, but unlike them, it’s not enough for us to revisit the work Hendrix released during his lifetime. We can’t let him rest in peace because three studio records and one live album can’t meet our insatiable need for more. Perhaps First Rays of the New Rising Sun or its progenitors Cry of Love and Rainbow Bridge might fit into the canon of legitimate recordings released after his death because that was what he was working on at the end. But his music has been packaged and repackaged so many times over the years that it’s lost its impact. By the time Crash Landing (1975) came out, producer Alan Douglas resorted to tarting up the tracks with overdubs, taking them out of their original context. It seems like every inch of audio tape Hendrix touched has been released on one questionable project or another.

Eventually, his family formed Experience Hendrix LLC and took legal control of his musical legacy. Their initial release, the 1997 recreation of First Rays of the New Rising Sun, was very respectful of the songs and Hendrix’s intent. Longtime studio partner Eddie Kramer brought credibility and a fine ear to the project. They followed with South Saturn Delta and Valleys of Neptune, offering cleanly mastered sound but not much new material.

And that’s the problem. The latest release, People, Hell and Angels, is carefully described as a dozen previously unreleased “performances.” Strictly speaking, that’s probably true, although a few of the parts may have been scavenged to create earlier Frankenstein releases. As good as they sound, songs like “Earth Blues”, “Hear My Train A-Comin’”, and “Crash Landing” don’t highlight any new subtleties in Hendrix’s playing. A purist can tell that “Earth Blues” sounds more stripped down than the take on Rainbow Bridge, but the playing is completely familiar and his singing features the some of the same vocal phrasing as the earlier album.

Any rational reviewer would have to ask, “Why bother with yet another post-mortem release?” Unfortunately, the left side of my brain can’t harsh the buzz in the pleasure centers of my right hemisphere. Like an addict, I can’t turn away from the novelty promise of “new” Hendrix songs. The liner notes offer tempting details to tantalize me: Stephen Stills plays bass on “Somewhere”, elements of “Inside Out” would later evolve into “Ezy Rider”, and several of the songs feature a second guitarist, giving Hendrix room for more exploration. The first listen provides the kick of appreciation. The smooth flow of blues-funk jams suggests a coherent intent, where the lazy groove of “Somewhere” sets up the psychedelic intensity of “Hear My Train A-Comin’”. Then I savor the work-in-progress feel of “Izabella”, as his Gypsy Sun & Rainbows ensemble struggles to lock into the stiff beat.

“Let Me Move You” and “Mojo Man” are surprising turns, with Hendrix sliding into a sideman role to back other players. The former track showcases saxman and singer Lester Youngblood on a solid blues rocker. This harks back to Hendrix’s work with R&B groups like the Isley Brothers, Curtis Knight and the Squires, and James Brown. His guitar shred sounds great next to the wailing sax, but there’s not much interaction. It’s like the tune was built around his guitar track, so it misses his normal call and response between the music and vocals. The stronger “Mojo Man” also features a sweet horn section, this time with Hendrix’s guitar lines integrated into the soul funk jam. His friends, Albert and Arthur Allen brought the song to him as part of their Ghetto Fighters band project. After his death, several songs would be released featuring the Allen twins on backup vocals. “Mojo Man” was shelved in 1969, but he decided to work with them on it about a year later, seamlessly meshing in his overdubs to add his own inimitable magic to the track. While it’s a bit of an outlier from the rest of the album, the guitar is instantly recognizable and it’s one of the most polished pieces included.

After gorging myself on the album for a couple of days, I start to come down. With a more critical ear, I wonder if Hendrix would have wanted these sketches, scraps and practice sessions to overshadow his completed work. During his lifetime he took immense care with his projects, working out the smallest details and planning out the perfect arrangements. People, Hell and Angels joins with the long line of posthumous releases as a reverse memento mori; rather than reminding us that death is inevitable, they cling desperately to a life long gone. I don’t blame his family and the Experience Hendrix LLC for releasing this latest collection. They certainly deserve to benefit from our obsession if anyone does. It’s the fans like me that are responsible.

(This review first appeared in Spectrum Culture)

Front Range - Recommended shows 11/12

A couple of ska-oriented groups this week to enjoy, along with some other fine choices.

12 November(Boulder Theater, Boulder CO)
B.B. King

I've said it before, B.B. King is a living legend. He was just here at the end of August with the Tedeschi Trucks Band and now he's back at the Boulder Theater. This intimate setting will provide the perfect venue to appreciate King's incredible blues. Even if you were at Red Rocks, drop by the Boulder Theater and soak it in.


15 November (Hi-Dive, Denver CO)
MTHDS

Party time band MTHDS are releasing a new CD, Pretty Deep. Their mix of rock, ska, and hip hop promises a good show (and a good album). Drop by the Hi-Dive for the CD release party and support a great regional band.

16 November (Fillmore Auditorium, Denver CO)
Nas
Lauryn Hill

Nas and Lauryn Hill are partnered on the "Black Rage/Life is Good" tour. Hill has had some odd twists in her career since her time with The Fugees. Still, she's been a powerful and outspoken voice with strong convictions. She recently debuted her new song, "Black Rage".

Nas, meanwhile, has a new album out, Life is Good. A great rap lyricist, he will be sure to deliver some solid flow and knowledge. Pairing these two strong personalities makes this show a high point for hip hop in Denver this month.

18 November (Gothic Theatre, Denver CO)
The English Beat

One of the great 2Tone-era ska bands, The English Beat blended catchy arrangements with a strong, up tempo ska beat to create some great music. Their arrangement of Smoky Robinson's "Tears of a Clown" redefined that song as a ska classic. Their originals, like "Mirror in the Bathroom", "Hands Off, She's Mine", and "Save It For Later" were tight masterpieces. Last time I saw them, they still had the energy and spunk of their early days.

Front Range - Recommended shows, 8/27

It's a slower week this week, but some great music nevertheless.

30 August (Red Rocks Amphitheatre, Morrison CO)
BB King
Tedeschi Trucks Band

BB King is a living legend. Aside from being one the greatest living blues guitarist, he's a remarkably generous band leader, giving the rest of his band time to shine, too. He can fit more soul into a single vibrato note than a battalion of other guitarists.

Susan Tedeschi and Derek Trucks will be opening for King. Although they're a much younger generation than him, they clearly share his love of the blues. They're both phenomenal player themselves, so this will be a blistering hot night, regardless of the temperature.


31 August (Mishawaka Amphitheatre, Bellview CO)
Keb' Mo'

Keb' Mo' is making up for a canceled show from this last May, when the Mish was closed by the High Park fire. His music comes straight from the heart, with dirty funk or vulnerable soul. It'll be a nice Friday evening up the canyon to kick back and catch the show.

Recording review - Lee Bains III and the Glory Fires, There is a Bomb in Gilead (2012)

A soul screaming message from the depths of the dirty South

Don't worry about the pun in the title, this is anything but a comedy album. This is a country rocking, blues wailing, soul screaming message from the depths of the dirty South. Lee Bains III (ex-Dexateens) charismatically gnashes, moans, and croons his way through a rich, earthy mix of songs. While the tracks on There's a Bomb in Gilead shift genres, Bains' voice and his vise-grip tight band maintain a consistent all-or-nothing attitude to drive every song.

In Centreville, Bains proclaims:

If you hear any bleakness from me and the boys
We're over educated and we're under-employed

But they're anything but bleak. This double time Lynyrd Skynyrd Southern rocker drives forward with unstoppable energy. A couple of songs later, on Choctaw Summer, the Glory Fires offer more of a laid back, Allman Brothers groove. The interlocking leads don't get quite as intricate as the Allmans, but the mesh is perfectly soulful.

The heavy hitting songs like the anthemic Magic City Stomp! propel the album, but it's the softer moments that truly show off the band's range. The sad and sweet country folk of Roebuck Parkway, the swaying gospel of the title track, and the soulful blues of Everything You Took are every bit emotionally moving as the foot stomping rockers on the album. Bains' desperation and loss bleed through over the touches of Soul Man pedal tones on Everything You Took:

You can keep my Walker Percy
You can keep that t-shirt my brother got the time he saw the Ramones
But just a little small piece of your sweet mercy
That's the dearest thing I've ever known

The juxtaposition of literary and pop culture references shows off the band's complexity.

Lee Bains III and the Glory Fires are almost certainly more intense band in the club, but There is a Bomb in Gilead is an amazing album that stands on its own.

For another sample, check out Righteous, Ragged Songs on Soundcloud.

Concert review - Quintron and Miss Pussycat with Dream Police, No Funeral

12 July 2012 (Hi-Dive, Denver CO)
I don't put a numerical ranking on my reviews because I try to separate my tastes enough to recognize quality, even it's not what I like the best. Concerts are harder to grade than albums, though. For example, should the opening acts affect the score for good or bad? In this show, the headliner killed, but the first opening act...well, not so much.

No Funeral

No Funeral featured some cool laser effects, along with a fog machine, which gave the Hi Dive a rave look. Aside from a touch of glow stick style tubing wrapped around his arms, laptop noise artist No Funeral (Warren Bedell) didn't make any other concessions to "performance".

His brief set focused on deconstructing pop songs like the Lovin' Spoonful's Summer in the City. In DJ mode, he diced in overdriven vocals, electronic tones, and echo artifacts. Bedell met his noisy goal, but his set didn't do much for me or provide much support for the other acts.

Dream Police

The name "Dream Police" conjures up images of a Cheap Trick tribute band. That might have been an interesting choice for an opener, but the raw punk thrash that the band brought was more welcome. In recent years, punk pop bands like Blink-182 or Green Day are the strongest influences for punk scene, but Dream Police opted for a more old school, hardcore sound.

The quick pace, inarticulate shouted vocals, and high energy recalled classic bands like The Exploited and GBH. It was a reminder of the cathartic power of punk.

The dual guitar line up gave the band a solid wall of sound. Dream Police was also unique because it's rare to see a female punk guitarist. When she added backing vocals, it created some great whipsaw moments. The call and response on their opening song, R U OK?, got the crowd moving. This was a much better lead in for Quintron's set.

Unfortunately, Dream Police's set aborted early. The drummer broke a stick without any spares. He still managed one more song, but then he had to give it up. It's good to leave an audience wanting more, but 16 minutes was too damn short.

Quintron and Miss Pussycat

As is typical for the band, the set started with Miss Pussycat's performance art. In puppet form, she addressed the crowd:

Hello, everyone. My name is Miss Pussycat. I'm going to do a puppet show for you tonight about a grizzly bear that wanted to go into outer space. Then, we'll have a dance party with Quintron.

Miss Pussycat reminded me of Amy Sedaris (Strangers With Candy): her show was deliberately primitive and rough, but hysterically funny and entertaining. Quintron's electronic soundtrack and sound effects supported the show, which featured cannibal parties on the moon with Mother Nature, vampires, and a happy ending on "Magical Nebula Rainbow Land". The surreal show cleared our minds of all outside influences and prepared us for the music.

Quintron's music was a brilliant Frankenstein mix of punk energy, raw power, Wall of Voodoo/Talking Heads quirkiness, and retro sounds of soul, blues, and Cajun rhythm. He's referred to it as "swamp tech", which seems fitting. Like a one man band, Quintron played organ, various synthesizers and a partial drum kit. A key element of his sound was his invention, the Drum Buddy, which is a light activated drum machine/optical theremin. With all of these toys, Quintron was like a juggler. With his hands fully occupied, he might whip a booted foot up to kill the drum beat at the end of a song.

Despite all his toys, though, Quintron was a great performer. Rather than losing himself in the technical detail, he connected with the audience. His grooves got the crowd dancing and created a sort outsider rave vibe. While the music bounced around through B-52's new wave pop, rootsy revival soul, uptempo swamp blues, and Mojo Nixon-style manic outbursts, the crowd fed off the dance party atmosphere and embraced the quirk.

Miss Pussycat's backing on vocals and maracas was also vital to the balance. Her stage persona tended to be cheery and spacy, but she had a good range. On Swamp Buggy Badass, she summoned a catty 1950s tone and kicked off the vocals. Then, as Quintron took the lead, they slipped into a call and response that ratcheted up in intensity. After Quintron set the music on autopilot, he came out and accosted the crowd and it became a tribal rite.

The musical climax was an amazing Drum Buddy solo, with Quintron showing off the range of the instrument. The pair finished out a strong set and even played a solid encore. Quintron himself summed up their aesthetic perfectly: "We say 'yes' to everything." The buzz from this show lasted the 70 minute drive home and sent me off to dream filled night once I got to bed.

More photos on my Flickr.

Recording review - Johnny Hickman, Tilting (2012)

Folky roots rock with country twang and new wave punch

Tilting is Johnny Hickman's second solo album. Plenty of people know the Cracker co-founder's rock side, but Hickman also has strong country-folk influences that he's shown with the Hickman-Dalton Gang. Tilting plays like Hickman's eclectic history. It's a melting pot of folky roots rock with moments of country twang and new wave punch, plus a few other surprises.

Cracker fans might prefer the rocking numbers, like the snide Elvis Costello post punk of Sick Cynthia Thing or the indie rock sneer of Takin' Me Back. This latter track could turn up on a Cracker album, but it really nails a Beat Farmers country rock groove. The lyrics are clever and clueless as Hickman sings from the perspective of someone who doesn't realize "she's just not that into you":

She needs a break for our relationship's sake
Takin' me back, takin' me back, she will be
So, I give her space, but I call her in case
She's takin' me back, takin' me back, she will be

Someone says she's missing me
Lost in her regret
Feels more like she misses me
Every chance she gets

Sharp and punchy, it's a strong contrast to Tilting's rootsier tracks that lean towards folk rock. Those songs lay down a simple sound to support Hickman's lyrical message, from calling out the greedy and venal on Measure of a Man to the his philosophical musings on Destiny Misspent. Hickman is comfortable with this stripped down approach and he gives the songs room to breathe.

One track, though, is a complete outlier. The jazzy blues of Papa Johnny's Arms has some great guitar work and it could easily fit on a Leon Redbone disc. It's a fun song, with a polished sound and smooth flow. The guitar solo is particularly nice - not quite Django, but with a taste of gypsy jazz. But as much as I like the laid back vamp, it breaks up the album's flow.

Even so, Johnny Hickman is confident in his choices and Tilting is anything but a single niche album.

(As a contrast from the link above, here's another track, Another Road.)

CD review - Bushmaster, Revolution Rhapsody (2011)

Classic rock and blues with tasteful guitar work

Some bands embrace a retro sound as homage or to prove a certain kind of affiliation. Others are trying to capture a time or feeling that resonates with their psyche. Gary Brown's Bushmaster seems so steeped in 1969-1975, it's like they're time travelers. They perfectly evoke a blend of Jimi Hendrix and Paul Rodgers-era Bad Company filtered through a solid electric blues band.

Brown shows off as a dedicated student of Jimi Hendrix. His fluid lead lines, the chord melody embellishments, and tone capture Hendrix's sound, with more focus on the Jimi's blues and ballads than rocked out bombast. Take the opener, Cumberland Blues: the song uses touches of Voodoo Child (Slight Return) to liven up a straightforward blues jam. The bass and drums are tight in the pocket, but Brown's personality steps forward to drive the tune. In a nice shift, the bridge opens up the song beyond the blues with a classic rock jam interlude.

I Will Shine maintains the bluesy feel, but this is where the Bad Company influence steps forward. The tune is reminiscent of Shooting Star without being derivative. Beyond the progression, Bushmaster has sonically captured that early '70s production. Brown's vocals, which are soulful throughout Revolution Rhapsody, aren't quite as husky as Paul Rodgers, but he's in the ballpark. The arrangement's backbeat, bassline, and guitar lines all nail down the signature Bad Company sound.

Bushmaster doesn't limit themselves to those influences. They draw from the same well as Lenny Kravitz and others, melding soul and funky rock. This casserole of rock and blues is fairly tasty. The only off notes are the political tunes, Arizona Shame on You and War on the Poor, whose heavy handed lyrics are shoehorned into middling blues jams. On the other hand, We All Fall Down makes its political point within a much stronger song. This one reminded me a lot of Eric McFadden (The Rise of King George II meets Diamonds to Coal).

Despite the couple of weak tracks, Revolution Rhapsody is a strong offering. It's enough to make me wish I could join in Bushmaster's hosted open mike in Carlisle, PA.

(Check out song samples at Amazon)

Concert review - David Bromberg, with Mollie O'Brien and Rich Moore

30 December 2011 (L2 Arts and Culture Center, Denver CO)
The L2 Arts and Culture Center proved to be the perfect intimate setting for this show. The 500 seat hall was sold out, drawing fans of traditional folk and blues music from across Colorado. After so many rowdier bar and arena shows, it was a nice change to enjoy a sit down concert experience. It was a contrast from the last time I saw David Bromberg at the Boulder Theatre. But while the crowd may not have been dancing, they were engaged.

Mollie O'Brien & Rich Moore

Folk duo Mollie O'Brien and Rich Moore opened the show. Moore's facile fingerstyle playing was impressive, as he slipped fill lines in with the chords and tossed in some bass as well. I love this style of solo guitar work. When a guitarist is as fluid as Moore, he can create a full, busy sound but still drop back to support the vocals.

While Moore provided the accompaniment, Mollie O'Brien covered the singing. Her voice is strong and soulful. When she drops to her deeper range, her tone has the same dark beauty as Linda Rondstadt. The setlist showcased how versatile her voice is. From jazzy folk to up tempo blues, O'Brien tailored her singing to the style perfectly.

I particularly enjoyed their cover of Richard Thompson's The Ghost of You Walks. The original version has a music-box quality. O'Brien and Moore's arrangement breathed more. Just as Linda Thompson changed the character of Richard Thompson's work, O'Brien's interpretation added a deeper emotional component. Moore's guitar was great as he added subtle fills to the ends of phrases. His backing harmony on the title line was perfect.

While the pair were comfortable on stage and had good patter, their stage presence was fairly static. It would have been nice to see them move around a bit more. The one up tempo blues song (the title might have been Every Night of the Week) kicked up the crowd energy, but otherwise, the vibe was more relaxed.

David Bromberg

It was a joy to see David Bromberg again. His albums, including the recent Use Me (review here), capture his tasteful playing and a sense of who he is. But on stage, Bromberg's personality shines, whether he's making a clever aside, ranting his way through an over-the-top song ending, or just radiating joy because he's in the middle of some great music. His comfortable style is fully in the moment and he can share that engagement with the audience.

The setlist meandered through bluegrass, traditional folk, and screaming blues. Bromberg alternated between playing acoustic and electric guitar, but his backing quartet also shifted instrumentation to back the songs appropriately. The opening song was an uptempo bluegrass/country tune that moved into an old-time music section that eventually featured a rollicking three way fiddle jam, with Bromberg pulling out his fiddle for the only time of the night.

The crowd was happy to follow along with Bromberg, savoring all the facets he showed. I'm more particular to his blues - hearing Bromberg testify as he wails out a guitar line is a special treat - but it's also great to see him work the band during the folk and bluegrass songs, goading them on to have as much fun as he is.

Introducing a section of songs from Use Me, Bromberg talked about the projec. The first song in the series was Blues Is Falling, which Tim O'Brien wrote and produced. Bromberg's comments about Tim O'Brien were classic:

It's really unfair that there are Tim O'Briens. Tim O'Brien can play beautiful guitar, mandolin, fiddle. Sing gorgeous tunes.Write beautiful songs and it's all as easy as breathing for him. If he wasn't so nice I could really learn to hate him.

Bromberg's backing quartet was exactly what you'd expect from one of the best side men in the business: talented players, able to adapt on the fly and make each song click. Still, the best moment of the show was with Bromberg alone. As he played some solo guitar, the intimate hall pulled even closer. During Delia, a classic folk blues number, the crowd was rapt as Bromberg played the fingerstyle lines and sang the tune. In between verses, he talked about the true life story of the song as he played his fills. A folk history lesson and beautiful tune, this was a special, bittersweet moment. The sweet singing guitar lines, the mournful lyrics ("she's all I've got, she's gone"), and the quiet reverent feel took the room back to its roots as a church.

With the rest of the band coming back on stage, Bromberg finished out a powerful set and two encores. Satisfied but never complacent, David Bromberg remains one of my favorite guitarists to see live.

More photos on my Flickr.

November singles

Another small collection of interesting tones from a wide range of sources.

The Big Sleep - Ace (from Nature Experiments, coming in early 2012)

The initial chop of staccato guitars sounds almost synth-like. But then Ace quickly takes on a more standard indie rock feel, with a more metered guitar line laid across the chop rhythm. Strong female vocals maintain control even as the chorus' grinding guitars thrash in.

The Big Sleep may a fairly small band, but they know how to effectively layer contrasting guitar lines and control dynamics. From the measured repressed tension of the interlude after the first chorus to wailing builds that threaten to overwhelm the song, Ace is a melange of textures. Indie rock leans towards post rock.

Ace is available for download from The Big Sleep's Facebook page.

James Leg - Do How You Wanna (from Solitary Pleasure)

It was just another party that turned into a jam session in my friend's basement. We'd been wailing away on blues based jams for hours -- the smoke was thick, ears were ringing, and we were all in awe of the powerful groove we were creating. It was a experience captured only by our memories.

James Leg (AKA John Wesley Myers of Black Diamond Heavies) channels his own version on Do How You Wanna. It's a lo-fi blues deconstruction with a grinding rhythm and flailing lead. Like the best garage rock or old school blues, the visceral playing is anchored in the magic of a moment. Leg's battery acid vocals are part Captain Beefheart and part hard ass living.

Pick up a free download here.

Housse de Racket - Chateau (from Alesia)



At its heart, all synth pop aspires to a kind of French ideal. The aloof vocals that cushion a deep inner emotion, the smooth perfection of the music, and the mix of retro cool and modern fashion all conjure a Gallic sense. French duo Housse de Racket willingly show how it's done.

Chateau updates the classic synth pop sound by emphasizing the pop elements. Its dance beat anchors the song, so the slightly moody vine ultimately succumbs to the insistence of the rhythm. Still, the lush synthesizers dress up the beat in fine fashion.

The art house video for Chateau is a great match for the song: full of symbolic static shots, distant actors, and stylized action. Housse de Racket is touring the US next month.

CD review - Hugh Laurie, Let Them Talk (2011)

"House" shares his musical true love

I became a Hugh Laurie fan through British comedy. Even though his occasional musical numbers during A Bit of Fry and Laurie showed off his talent, his wit was always central. Part of the pleasure of watching Laurie in House is the cognitive dissonance of seeing him play a dramatic American, but this probably laid the groundwork to appreciate his work on Let Them Talk.

Rootsy tribute albums like Let Them Talk succeed or fail on the abilities of the artist. John Doe and Sadies' Country Club showed their love of classic country and they had the skill to sell the songs and give them relevance. On the other hand, Elvis Costello's attempt, Almost Blue, largely missed the mark. Hugh Laurie takes his shot at classic blues and jazz and largely succeeds, in part because of the solid musical help he brought along to the project.

As St. James Infirmary started with a solo piano, it seemed like a repositioning of the tune, especially when the cadenza built into a heavy weight, almost classical treatment. Laurie shifted to a straighter bluesy piano style, though and worked his way through the changes. The arrangement turned out impressively. The song runs through as an instrumental, taking it to conclusion. Then, the walking bass rises from fading piano to start the song over again, this time as a moodier jazz arrangement with vocals. The shift to a fuller sound -- horns, slide guitar, etc - supports the vocals nicely.

Laurie's voice is the only weak link. He holds a tune fairly well, but his vocals are strained and a little tight. With Fry and Laurie, he'd often affect a singing style to match the song and that sense of affectation permeates Let Them Talk. When guest singers step in, like Dr. John on After You're Gone, there's a fluidity that Laurie misses. That said, his love of the material shines through the project and his playing is superb.

One of my favorite tracks was the Professor Longhair classic, Tipitina. Laurie's piano intro is has some tasteful fills, but the song hits its stride when the funky groove gets underway. The instrument arrangement is loose, allowing for a mix of interaction between the players in the midst of the bluesy, New Orleans style chaos. Laurie's vocals are more relaxed here than some of the other tracks and the emphasis is more on the music anyway.

Another pleasant surprise was Tom Jones' soulful singing on Baby, Please Make a Change. Powerful and emotional, Jones' testifies over the gaunt arrangement. A mournful fiddle vies with a clarinet and slide guitar for "best solo" bragging rights. The shuffle picks up tempo to drive the song to its righteous conclusion. Amen.

Let Them Talk meshes nicely with Hugh Laurie's recent Great Performances appearance on PBS. In addition to sharing music from the album and some live sets, Laurie had the chance to talk about his discovery of the blues. The show and the album demonstrate the passion he brings to this music.

CD review - David Bromberg, Use Me (2011)

Friends help a classic player show his range

David Bromberg is one of America's greatest secret guitarists. While he hasn't achieved public superstardom, Bromberg is well known among blues/bluegrass aficionados and his fellow musicians. Comfortable on guitar, fiddle, mandolin, and steel guitar, he has been a prolific session player for a wide variety of players since the '60s. Musically, he's most rooted in the blues and American folk traditions, but these never box him in.

I've been a huge fan ever since I discovered his first album (David Bromberg) which included a collaboration with George Harrison (The Holdup). His playing and vocal phrasing enthralled me and he became one of my big influences on both guitar and singing. Use Me is Bromberg's latest album and it shows both how far and how short a distance he's come over the last four decades.

It's been a short trip, because his roots as a session side man are in full display and, like those recording sessions, the song always comes first for Bromberg. His playing has always been top notch and that continues on Use Me. At the same time, he's matured like a fine wine over the years, as he's developed the voice to rise above his well-spring genres. This makes him better at bridging the gap between traditional folk, blues, and country.

Beyond naming the album after the Bill Withers tune he covers, the conceit behind Use Me is that Bromberg partnered with a number of his friends, asking them to "use him". Each artist flavored a track within their own aesthetic, inviting Bromberg to step in and add his seasoning. The line up of famous performers is impressive: Levon Helm (the Band), John Hiatt, bluegrass master Tim O'Brien, Dr. John, Keb' Mo', Los Lobos, Widespread Panic, Linda Ronstadt, Vince Gill, and producers the Butcher Brothers (Phil and Joe Nicolo).

The range of styles from blues to funk to traditional folk give the album an eclectic feel, but together they form a mosaic of David Bromberg's work. Whether it's the Mexican folk waltz of The Long Goodbye or the funky groove of Old Neighborhood, each song offers a perspective on his playing. Old Neighborhood was particularly interesting as Bromberg trades licks with Jimmy Herring and Widespread Panic. Hearing him fit into the interplay of a jam band was a joy.

Bromberg's playing is always tasteful above all else. The bluesy country of Ride Out a Ways, with John Hiatt, shows off a perfect touch. Hiatt's playing is solid and hearing the guitar float above the blanket of organ creates a churchy moment. Bromberg's voice is weary but strong. I love his phrasing, as he can loosen up and drag out the lyrics, then slip in a tight package of words a couple of lines later. Elvis Costello has some similar tricks, but he never makes it sound as effortless as Bromberg.

Despite its moody funk, Dr. John's track, You Don't Wanna Make Me Mad has a loose feel. It's a great NOLA-inspired groove. The laid back bass and syncopated percussion drive the song with Bromberg's wicked slide guitar and Dr. John's piano filling out the sound. Bromberg's vocals are casual and he tosses off some great asides: "Everybody needs a little bit of space every now and then. And this is my now and this is my then." It's interesting to compare how Dr. John might have sung this to Bromberg's performance. Bromberg exaggerates the attitude, giving it a touch of humor.

By contrast, the track with Keb' Mo', Digging in the Deep Blue Sea, is dark and heavy. The looming bass and drums build a down and dirty framework, while the keyboards and guitar fill out the structure. Spooky keyboard swells flash from side to side, fine-tuning the tension. The reflective solo is less a centerpiece than an interlude in the song. The lyrics seem inspired by the BP oil spill, but look to the bigger picture of oil dependency. Never getting strident, the conflict is clear:

What are we gonna do about all the mess we made?
You can't run an 18-wheeler, child, on lemonade

David Bromberg is a timeless artist. Use Me's mix of older artists like Helm and Ronstadt with younger players like Keb' Mo' and Widespread Panic demonstrates the reach of Bromberg's career. Whether you're familiar with him or not, Use Me is a worthwhile new step in Bromberg's path.

CD review - Solex vs Cristina Martinez + Jon Spencer, Amsterdown Throwdown, King Street Showdown! (2010)

"Love is never equal" - Jill Sobule has it right. In every partnership, one side is usually dominant, even if the players take turns in that role. In the unlikely collaboration between the Boss Hogs' Cristina Martinez and Jon Spencer and Dutch electronic artist, Solex, Jon Spencer stands out by virtue of his odd vocals and Brillo pad guitar tone. On first listen, I scored the partnership all towards Boss Hog, mostly because I wasn't that familiar with Solex.

Martinez and Spencer have a good formula in Boss Hog: driving hard rock that hints at a punk edge and a twangy discordant blues. The key to their sound really comes from the vocal interactions between spouses Martinez and Spencer, which creates a strong chemistry.

Solex (Elisabeth Esselink), on the other hand, produces a poppy electronic style of music. She tends to have a heavily processed and echoed Suzanne Vega type of vocal and her production favors a slightly low fi, scratchy, retro tone that contrasts well with the electronic elements.

On Amsterdam Throwdown, King Street Showdown!, the Spencer and Martinez lay out a blues funk vibe and Spencer's retro blues voice for much of the music, but Solex's production aesthetic and instinctive pop sense dominates the mix and feel. So, it's a more even collaboration than it appeared at first.

The album kicks off with Bon Bon, which takes a Boss Hog feel and adds a laid back funk groove. Spencer's guitar offers both a ripsaw lead tone and a crunchy rhythm and the synth strings offer some balancing velvet. There's a nice contrast between Solex's light harmonized pop backup vocals and Spencer's blues growl, which lies somewhere between John Lee Hooker, Wolfman Jack, and Captain Beefheart.

The best track, The Uppercut, leans the other way. The driving club beat builds a delicious tension. Cristina's rawer vocals are a warm spark against the coolness of electronic groove and Solex's light backup vocals. The guitar takes a welcome step back, offering accenting fills, which give the song a little more room to develop.

Don't Hold Back is another strong track, giving Boss Hog the Solex treatment. Martinez's sultry vocals are pushed to the background, creating a dialog with Spencer's forward mixed comments. Spencers bluesy guitar work is cooking. Solex contributes a retro tone mix, background vocals, and smooth accent sounds. The total package is seductive and vaguely threatening.

There are plenty of other interesting moments, like the Captain Beefheart sound of Dog Hit, Spencer's Tourette vocals on Galaxy Man (against a richly layered electronic coolness), and the retro Euro-pop feel of Too Much, Too Fast.

Pour a nice tart Kriek (wild fermented Belgian cherry beer) and enjoy Amsterdam Throwdown, King Street Showdown!.

CD review - Michael Juan Nunez, The American Electric (2009)

Louisiana is a national treasure, providing countless great musicians over the years, from blues to Zydeco to jazz. Michael Juan Nunez is a proud son of that musical tradition. Cutting his teeth with Lafayette's RiverBabys, he's also played with a fair number of classic LA musicians. The American Electric is his third solo release and it's quite a wild ride, bounding from Cajun flavored blues rock to old-time blues, with several side trips besides.

A key element of his sound is his slide guitar playing, which I put on par with Johnny Winter. He's got wicked tone and great control. While he's not quite as inventive as Sonny Landreth, he's no slouch. Listen to the tight electric blues of Bulldog. While that live version lacks the bass and percussion of the album version, you can catch the slide accents thrown into the basic groove, with some more interesting slide work coming in during the lead. The lyrics are clever and this is clearly a club favorite.

The next track, Mr. Jones, crosses a stumble-rhythm blues rocker with Hendrix's Voodoo Chile Slight Return. It's lyrically derivative of Dylan's Ballad of a Thin Man, with some of the acid tone, but more repetitive. There's a fair amount of White Stripes in there too, as Nunez cops an in-your-face attitude. Once again, the slide sails in over the top and howls an inner angst. This is the rough diamond of The American Electric.

There are plenty of other good tracks, including the soulful R&B of Groove With Me and the old time blues of Doney. The only odd note is NeckTie, with its cut time beat and weird retro feel. It's not a bad song and I suppose it helps show Nunez's range, but the album would have been fine without it.

While a drinking party can be fun, this music calls for a flavorful session beer -- good taste and nothing to slow your feet from feeling the beat. Maybe a Pilsner Urquell would hit the spot, balanced and smooth.