Recording review - Miles Davis Quintet: Live in Europe 1969: The Bootleg Series Vol. 2 (2013)

The Lost Quintet follows their instincts, creating magic

Miles Davis fans hardly need a recommendation to check out this exceptional set of performances from his classic period featuring the “lost quintet” with Wayne Shorter, Jack DeJohnette, Chick Corea and Dave Holland. While those diehards will know that the lost quintet was never showcased in a studio setting, they may already have an earlier release from Columbia Legacy, Live at the Fillmore East (March 7, 1970): It’s About Time (2001), which includes the same lineup plus Airto Moriera on percussion. While that reissue presented two different live sets, this new collection, Live in Europe 1969: The Bootleg Series Vol. 2, goes further to include four performances across three CDs and one DVD. The set lists between ’69 and ’70 are strikingly similar, often starting the show with “Directions” and wrapping up with “Sanctuary” and the brief tag of “The Theme”. But the development over the seven-and-a-half month spread between the first show in 1969 and the 1970 recordings is a joy to follow.

Many of the pieces, like “Miles Runs the Voodoo Down” and “Sanctuary”, would later turn up on Davis’ Bitches Brew, but it’s important to know that the first two CDs in this collection predate the August ‘69 sessions for that album, covering consecutive shows at the Antibes Jazz Festival in France on July 25-26. While anything but tentative, it’s still clear that Davis and his band are working out the tunes. Additionally, Bitches Brew would take advantage of a larger group of musicians and numerous recording tricks to expand the sound. These live versions offer a distilled counterpart.

“Miles Runs the Voodoo Down” is a perfect example. The album version takes full advantage of John McLaughlin’s guitar to help set the lazy groove. During the sprawling 14-minute runtime, Davis stretches his phrases out, then rushes to catch back up, all the while setting a call and response with the rhythm section. Later live versions are similarly long, but the ’69 sessions are easily five minutes shorter. The July 25 set places the song right after “Directions” and Corea and Holland establish a quick tempo, backed by some elaborate syncopation from DeJohnette. The keys have an instinctive sense of where Davis is leading with his trumpet. The hand off to Shorter’s sax is smooth and he coasts for a moment before zipping into punchy riffs and sharp squonks, breaking Davis’ more even pace.

The take from July 27 is a stark contrast to any of the other versions I’ve heard. This time, they don’t play “Voodoo” until after “Masquelero”. Holland’s bass swings, setting up a different beat for Davis to exploit. Here, the trumpet stays expressive as it floats over the other players. This gives the band room to evolve the rhythm over the course of the tune. Shorter keys off the changes to give his sax free rein during his frantic solo and the drums follow along. Another big difference comes during the closing section, which is often an interlude featuring the bass and keyboards. This time, Holland and Corea collapse into a free jazz experiment, deconstructing the song into almost cubist elements before eventually picking up the straight rhythm to close out the tune.

Listeners should let the CDs flow naturally on their first couple of visits, just as the quintet drifts from tune to tune. There will be plenty of time later to pick and choose or compare the different takes of a song to get a sense for Davis’ mood and how the pieces are constructed. It doesn’t take a jazz nerd to wonder if his raw energy on the July 27 version of “Directions” is because he was annoyed or whether he was just more awake. It’s curious, too, to contrast the set lists themselves. Why did the July 26 show sample a wider range of his repertoire, while the November 5 Stockholm set focused primarily on Shorter’s compositions? That Stockholm CD also offers a bonus song that never appeared on any of Davis’ album: one of Corea’s tunes, “This”, from his 1969 album, Is.

There are all kinds of treats to be mined from the shows captured on the three CDs, but the DVD of the quintet performing in Berlin on November 7 is amazing. Recorded for German TV by Sender Freies Berlin, the picture and sound quality is clean although the bass is too low in the mix. The camera shots break between wide angle views of the whole band and close ups that capture the sheen of sweat on Davis’ face under the lights or Holland’s nimble fingers. “Bitches Brew” shows off the band at its finest. Corea has a clear focus, holding down the tune while the soloists venture further afield. Davis’ concentration on stage is legendary and, with eyes squeezed shut, he softens his tone and lets subtlety make his point. After he drops out and walks away, Shorter brashly steps forward in his solo.

The band has an instinctive sense of how to develop the set. They communicate almost completely through the music, relying on their phrasing to indicate a plan rather than visual cues. On “It’s About That Time”, DeJohnette’s fills smoothly match the trumpet as it veers in new direction. When Shorter takes over on soprano sax, the drums effortlessly track his fluid runs in turn. The audience clearly recognizes the magic on stage, remaining breathlessly silent until the very end. All too soon, Davis closes out the set with “The Theme”, breaking the spell to reap the crowd’s cheers as he walks off the stage. But of course he remains aloof; he’s Miles Davis.

(This review first appeared in Spectrum Culture)

DVD review - Everyday Sunshine: The Story of Fishbone (2010)

Eclectic democracy may not sell albums, but it makes for groundbreaking music

I remember when I first heard Fishbone. The heady mix of ska, punk, and anarchy of Party At Ground Zero blew me away. I followed them avidly up through Give a Monkey a Brain and He'll Swear He's the Center of the Universe and then watched the band seem to fall apart as original members left. All of this resonated as Everyday Sunshine: The Story of Fishbone approached Fishbone's career as a band that never achieved the commercial success they deserved.

Ultimately, Everyday Sunshine can't deliver a happy ending or even an unequivocal, uplifting sentiment because that's not how history played out. Instead, Lev Anderson and Chris Metzler offer testimonials to the band's influence and a character study of Fishbone's magic. They also outline the band's history and travails. There's plenty of nostalgia, but it's tempered with the raw emotions and tensions within the band.

Anderson and Metzler had wide open access to Fishbone's members. So, much of the early history of the band comes straight from the source. It's not surprising that desegregation busing had a huge effect on opening up their horizons, exposing them to punk music like their white classmates. On the other hand, it's hard to reconcile Angelo Moore's non-hood, Jehovah's Witness youth with the wild stage presence he developed. These interviews provide a sense of the personalities in the band.

The peak of Everyday Sunshine's positivity comes from the musings of Fishbone's peers and famous fans, like Mike Watt (Minutemen), Gwen Stefani (No Doubt), Branford Marsalis, and Ice-T. They make the case for Fishbone's impact on not just the L.A. punk scene, but the music scene in general. By bridging race lines and breaking stereotypes of black music, they breathed a wild life into the music and opened doors for bands like Living Color. As Ice=T mentions, "It might not have sounded black. It was very black, if you listen to what they're saying." The archive band footage shows off the incredible energy of their live shows.

But Everyday Sunshine also makes the point that Fishbone's strength was their biggest weakness. Their stage show was full of exuberant anarchy. They packed their albums with a melting pot of sounds. But their eclectic musical democracy and unique style made them hard for the record companies to package, which denied them access to a wider audience. This sets up the sad list of travails for the band.

From guitarist Kendall Jones' breakdown and religious rebirth (which led to kidnapping charges against Norwood Fisher) to the erosion of the original lineup, it's hard to sit through the frustration and rancor within the band. Once again, Anderson and Metzler's full access exposes pettiness and anger borne out of the band's sense of loss. Eventually, Fishbone seems to devolve into Moore and Norwood Fisher as an ersatz married couple, trying to find a balance but often slipping into bickering passive aggression.

Still, Fishbone has persevered through the stress of touring and still seem focused on working together. By the end, their characters seem familiar: Norwood Fisher's grounded sense of calm, Angelo Moore's artistic hunger, Dirty Walt Kibby II's provocative humor, and Chris Dowd's regular guy charm. Kendall Jones is more of an enigma. We see his serious side in commercial interview snippets and a lot of darkness in short archive scenes from the studio. It's hard to relate that to the shy, post-breakdown persona from more recent footage. Since Phillip "Fish" Fisher is still estranged from the band and didn't participate, we never get his perspective.

Everyday Sunshine gives a realistic view of a great band whose influence spread well beyond their own direct accomplishments. Occasionally the narrative gets confused as the editing sacrifices linear flow to make a point (when is this band member interview from?), but the film never looks away from the real humanity of the Fishbone's core.

Everyday Sunshine: The Story of Fishbone releases on DVD this month (21 February, pre-order here) and is available on iTunes now.

DVD review - The Other F Word (2011)

Punk rock parenthood is not so different than the normal kind



The Other F Word is "fatherhood". Andrea Blaugrund Nevins' documentary took its inspiration from Jim Lindberg's 2007 book, Punk Rock Dad: No Rules, Just Real Life. Where Lindberg showcased his punk perspective on parenting, The Other F Word digs deeper into what fatherhood really means.

While the multitude of on-screen interviews with punk icons form a great hook, the heart of the documentary is more universal. Any parent watching this will recognize themselves. They'll think of their lifestyle before the kids and how they've reconciled their own formative years with the responsibilities of parenthood. They may not be covered with ink or be touring with the band, but they still have to balance their rebellious youth against their parental role and their job demands against time with the family. The difference may be more a matter of degree.

TOFW anchors itself to Jim Lindberg, shifting between his family time and touring with Pennywise. But other big names get plenty of screen time, too. Art Alexakis (Everclear), Fat Mike (NOFX), Flea (Red Hot Chili Peppers), and Brett Gurewitz (Bad Religion) are among the crowd of men offering their own views and various strategies. Fat Mike talks about how he and his wife weren't going to let parenthood change them. On the other hand, Ron Reyes (Black Flag) dropped out completely from his old lifestyle.

The documentary hits four distinct themes. The first two are about the punk scene, both the early days and today. There's a spark in recapping the early days, with the dark side of losing friends offset by the powerful feeling these guys got from the music. That contrasts with the maturity of the scene today, where the bands are faced with what they need to do to make a living. The other two themes cover the parenting side. There's a common thread of their absent or disconnected fathers and wanting to do a better job. Finally, the guys talk more about their own experiences in being a father.

Along the way, there are a host of soundbites that nail the dichotomy of punk parenthood:

The dominatrixes on my arm? The one tied up with a ball gag? I don't know. How do you explain that to a four year old? - Fat Mike

I went to volunteer at the school one time. I went up to the school for something and had no idea that I was wearing a shirt that said "Fuck the police" on it. Like, I was just that clueless - Jack Grisham (TSOL)

But the emotional moments are the real feast here, like Flea's perspective on parental responsibility and his bond with his daughters - My kids gave me life...they gave me a reason - or Duane Peters (U.S. Bombs) talking about the loss of his son, Chess.

This love and connection bridges the differences between these punk dads and the rest of us parents. I dabbled with punk as a 20-something and I still play music out. I'm faced with same decisions about balancing work and time with my son. While a younger me couldn't have imagined being a dad, today my son is a fundamental part of who I am. I may try to be the "cool dad", but at the same time, I feel a responsibility to help my son become the man he deserves to be.

I'm raising my son the way I wish I'd been raised. Someone said to me the other day, "I wish you were my father" and I go "Me, too. I wish I was my father, too." - Art Alexakis

The Other F Word is playing in theaters this November and December.

DVD (stream) review - Mogwai, Burning (2010)

I've been excited about the upcoming release for Mogwai's concert DVD, Burning. It's not due to come out until August 24, but yesterday there was a massive virtual screening of the DVD hosted by guitarist Stuart Braithwaite and director Vincent Moon. The stream was hosted at more than 50 sites, including AOL Spinner and Second Life. I dropped by the Daily Swarm to catch the screening and follow the twitter feed at the same time. Only getting to watch this once limits my ability to pick out all of the nuance, but this was a great show.

Mogwai plays intense prog rock/post rock (mostly) instrumental jams. Their sound is centered on fuzzed out electric guitar, but there's plenty of interesting keyboard work in there as well. They're less laid back than My Morning Jacket, but certainly, they are stylistic neighbors.

Burning is a concert DVD, but directors Vincent Moon and Nathanael Le Scouarnac had a unique approach. They avoided the documentary style of simply showing the performance. Instead, there are constant jump cuts between the musicians and members of the audience. This evokes the experience of being at a concert; we vicariously feel the excitement, watching someone really enjoy the song, then looking up at the stage to see what's happening next. By the time the video hits the closing song, Batcat, the camera jerks and loses focus. Lighting flashes bright then dark. It's no longer about showing the performance; it's about recreating the mental state.

In the interview section after the screening, Vincent Moon talked about his aesthetic. It was intentional to shoot this in black and white to lose some of the information and create a distance. Perversely, this rational distance is what breaks down the emotional reserve of watching a video, making the experience more immersive. They also kept Burning short (around 45 minutes or so) to maintain the level of excitement from a live show. "A full show doesn't have the same impact on video."

The songs were intense, with sharp dynamics. During Mogwai Fear Satan, the sound evolves into a hypnotic wall of guitar sound. Trippy, building into a trancelike ecstasy, the martial drums and melodic bass provide the only anchors. Then, it fades down, becoming introspective. Swells of notes spill over the top as the song strips away to its essentials. Lulled into peace, the booming return to the full ecstatic whirl of the peak is climactic.

The last song, Batcat, starts with a voiceover translation of a Mogwai show review: "Cause this music puts a human being in a trancelike state...". Then, the music rises through. The guitar plays a repeated lick with heavy fuzzed out sound. Dark and droning, it's post-rock with a metal twist. The guitars wail through the roller coaster ride. When it's finally over and the credits start, they play comments from the crowd: "It's like acid, but there's no comedown."

After the screening, there was an interview section with Braithwaite and Moon. Braithewaite's playful personality came through as they pulled questions from the twitter feed. "How loud is too loud? 140 dB", "What's your favorite song to play live? Mogwai Fear Satan because it's really easy"...

I'm really looking forward to seeing the DVD and listening to the accompanying CD, Special Moves. This is music that deserves and requires multiple listens to soak in. The Burning setlist was:

• The Precipice
• I'm Jim Morrison, I'm Dead
• Hunted By a Freak
  
• Like Herod
• New Paths to Helicon Part 1 (download here)
  
• Mogwai Fear Satan
  
• Scotland's Shame
  
• Batcat

What to drink with this? It doesn't matter. I forgot to drink anything at all.

DVD review - Tori Amos, Live from the Artists Den (2010)

WNET's Live from the Artists Den is a public TV music series that focuses on unique artists, each performing in an intimate, unconventional venue. This DVD release coincides with the second season of this series, showcasing a Tori Amos concert at the landmark Veterans Room of New York's Park Avenue Armory. The new season is starting this week and will feature additional artists, like Ringo Starr, Corinne Bailey Rae, the Black Crows, and others. This Tori Amos DVD is coming out on July 13. The concert will be shown during the regular season, but the DVD package includes two extra songs, an interview with Amos, and a scrapbook of backstage pictures and history of the venue.

A select group of 100 fans were invited to the show, providing an audience to inspire Amos' performance while maintaining an intimate feel. The camera preserves this sense, remaining unobtrusive but capturing every nuance of Amos' expression. Tori performed a solo set on piano and electric keyboard. This was an introspective set, foregoing some of her more athletic performance moves. Sometimes, she flinched like a wild creature caught under our gaze. Sometimes, she took control and shared a coy grin. Above all, her voice was front and center: strong and demanding, then bruised and expressive. At times, she wrenched the music out of body, just like she forced out the lyrics. It was an enthralling show.

There were snippets of interview at the start and throughout the DVD, but the music was the key focus. One particularly interesting comment was about the piano:

I'm drawn to getting to know different ones. They bring different things out of you. The piano plays me, I do not play it.

The setlist spanned her career, from China and Girl (off 1992's Little Earthquakes) to Ophelia and Maybe California (from 2009's Abnormally Attracted to Sin). Despite the range, the songs were well chosen to create a flow.

Girl on Live from the Artists Den: Tori Amos from Artists Den on Vimeo.

The show begins with a rarity, Ruby Through the Looking Glass. It's rhythmic and soothing. Amos' voice is knowing and a little accusing:

When I said I wanted it all,
Doesn't every woman want it all?
As a man, do you find,
Doesn't every boy smoke to cry?

It's a strong start, with tension perfectly build and expressed. She throws in a whisper of tension to season the mix.

This is immediately followed by China. It's a little slower than the album version, with pauses and a tentative feel. The deep, repeating chords breathe through the verses. To bring in the strings, Amos plays her electric keyboard with her right hand as she maintains the arpeggiated piano part with her left hand. Playing two different keyboards at once is not so technically challenging, but the voicing, the arrangement, and the balancing interaction between the two parts is phenomenal. Her transitions between the piano and playing both keyboards are so smooth and effortless.

Near the end of the set, Amos plays Bells For Her. During the intro, she kicks her head back, entranced. This beautiful piece is dreamlike (...can't stop what's coming/can't stop what's on its way). Repetitive, looping parts and chanted lyrics build a sense of slow motion detachment. This is powerful and moving.

As Amos mentions in her interview, her touring and live performances are why she's still popular and relevant. This show serves as a great example. Sip a fine tawny port and watch Tori play Live from the Artists Den. The music is great; it's a fine addition to her catalog.

DVD review - Still Bill (2010)

Like any movie, a documentary has a story arc. In Still Bill, the focus is on the talented Bill Withers dealing with detachment and his journey to reconnecting, both with music and his past. The story line is compelling, but it misses the point that Bill Withers is already incredibly grounded. His insight into himself and his times are both deeply personal and universal.

Bill Withers was an unlikely star: he came from a small coal mining town in West Virginia, he was already in his 30s, and he was working in a factory when his music took off. Right off the bat, he had a breakaway hit with Ain't No Sunshine in 1971. Grandma's Hands from the same album was also a strong single. The title of that first album, Just as I Am, was fitting. In Still Bill, we're treated to bits of interviews from this period, where he proved to be self deprecating, witty, and thoroughly comfortable in his own skin.

This confident character is one he developed on his own, overcoming a stuttering problem and escaping his small town life by joining the Navy. The filmmakers, Damani Baker and Alex Vlack, use an interesting technique for introducing us to Withers. They edit the footage and voice overs so that it's often hard to tell whether a particular quote is coming from the younger man or the older one. Both men are genuinely interesting people, less interested in fulfilling a stereotype than staying true to a personal ideal.

All the favorite songs get their due, from Lean On Me to Use Me to Just the Two of Us. But Still Bill also spends a lot of time showing a view of Withers' life today. Vlack and Baker lay the groundwork for that story arc with quotes from Withers, like:

I have to be careful that I don't just wallow in my own comfort. Probably now, I'm trying to find some motivation. I'm not lazy. I don't even understand. I'm trying to give myself a chance to get driven. Where just the sheer activity of doing something just jacks you up, makes you excited.

or the even starker:

Thoreau said that the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. I would like to know how it feels for my desperation to get louder.

Along with this, they follow him back to his hometown in West Virginia, as well as introducing his wife and two children. This makes it clear: Withers may have detached himself from the music business, but you can see the results of the energy he's put into his family. There are also some great snippets from a filmed conversation between Bill, Dr. Cornell West (civil rights activist), and Tavis Smiley (talk show host/commentator). The most powerful insight into Bill Withers, though, comes with his visit to the Our Time Theatre Company, a theatre troupe for young people that stutter. He talks with the kids and shares his experiences and lessons learned: "If you can value the people who value you..." Seeing his emotional reaction is moving.

The close of the story arc includes a recording session with Raul Midón, Bill recording his daughter, Kori, play a song she's been working on, and finally, Bill sitting in with guitarist Cornell Dupree at a 2008 tribute concert.

Despite these emotional moments, Bill Withers is more interesting than a simple story of reconnection. His depth comes because he's always been connected to himself. I'll close with my favorite quote, even though it's gotten plenty of play already:

One of the things I tell my kids is that it's okay to head out for "wonderful." But on your way to "wonderful", you're going to have to pass through "all right." And when you get to "all right", take a good look around and get used to it because that may be as far as you're going to go.

Complement Still Bill with a full bodied Burgundy when you watch it.

Multimedia review - Ian Curtis and Joy Division

Binging on Ian Curtis and Joy Division is not for the weak of heart or those prone to depression. I recently read Touching From a Distance: Ian Curtis and Joy Division (1995), written by Ian's wife, Deborah Curtis. Then I watched Anton Corbijn's film, Control (2007), which is loosely based on Deborah's book. Finally I watched Grant Gee's documentary, Joy Division (2007).Much like interviewing witnesses to a train wreck, a rough consensus develops, but each recollection has it's own flavor and agenda. They all agree on the basic story. A relatively quiet young guy, obsessed with the glam and punk music of the day, wants to be part of it. He marries young and has a troubled marriage. He becomes the face and voice of a talented band, contributing lyrics and a dark kind of energy. He has an affair and suffers through the impact on his marriage. He develops epilepsy, which has a profound effect on his ongoing depression. He attempts suicide and finally succeeds the day before he and the band are due to tour in America. Everyone around is shocked.

I was fairly familiar with the story back in the early '80s, after listening to Joy Division and New Order, which rose from the ashes. At the time, the common wisdom was that Ian Curtis had history of depression and was unable to cope with the idea of success. The part of about depression rings true, but my sense out of all of this is that things were not so simple.

Touching From a Distance is interesting because Deborah had a lot more private knowledge of Ian, both his past and his time with the band. Of course, given the conflicts caused by Ian's infidelity and moodiness (plus any normal marital strife), it can't all be taken at face value. Still, Deborah Curtis paints an image of an interesting man: depressive but social within his own network of friends, quiet offstage but a mesmerizing performer, angry and tortured but emotionally invested in his civil service job, and a follower of the nascent punk scent that created a large part of the post punk new wave aesthetic. She seems to come to the conclusion that Ian Curtis had a longtime fascination with death and that his suicide was almost pre-ordained. She points to an early overdose experience in his youth and his lyrical imagery as evidence.

Even though Control is loosely based on Deborah Curtis' biography, it's more of a muddle. This story is too complicated if the book is followed closely, so Anton Corbijn sacrifices much of the explanatory history in order to hit the highlights. It's a whirlwind tour of concerts, a marriage, recording, and an affair. Sam Riley has the right look and captures Ian's mood swings, but he doesn't have enough of a narrative to help the audience get him. The only thing Corbijn successfully emphasizes is the distance between Ian and Deborah. In this view, Ian is tired, desperate, and depressed. Suicide has become his only escape. While this was the weakest of these three pieces, the music is what saves it. There's some great old songs on the soundtrack and the actors do a passable job of covering Joy Division's live performances.

Grant Gee's documentary is richer than Control and offers a good contrast to Touching From a Distance. Joy Division is more band focused and is built on a combination of interviews and band footage. It does a great job of explaining the music scene at the time and giving a sense of how Joy Division influenced that post punk era. The recollections don't always mesh perfectly, but they seem coherent. Ian is portrayed more a regular guy than just a tortured artist. The band and others talk about his sense of humor and moxie. There's much less emphasis on his epilepsy, but that may be because he downplayed that despite his onstage seizures. There's more attention on his girlfriend, Annik Honore, including some brief screen time. Interestingly, Deborah Curtis is never interviewed or shown, although some quotes from her book are included. In this view, Ian's suicide is seen more as either a stupid accident or a way to keep from holding back the band.

So, what's the truth? It won't be found here or in any other book. Given Ian's depression and all of the stress he was going through, it probably wasn't so much a long time plan as an immediate escape. The real point of all of this is to listen to Joy Division. Hear the driving tension of Transmission or She's Lost Control. Listen to Love Will Tear Us Apart and wonder why no one saw the end coming. Sip some Irish coffee and savor the bittersweet sound of Isolation.

DVD review - Dengue Fever, Sleepwalking Through the Mekong

When I reviewed Dengue Fever's Venus on Earth (2008), I talked a bit about how they formed. Venus was their third album, fitting into a logical progression from the Cambodian covers of the self-titled first album through 2005's Escape From Dragon House, which had more originals. The newly released documentary, Sleepwalking Through the Mekong is sort of a step backwards from the more fully realized sound of Venus. That makes perfect sense; the documentary chronicles a 2005 band visit to Cambodia and the Dengue Fever's original music here is mostly from Escape. The soundtrack also includes a mix of older Khmer rock songs, some as the original version and some covered by Dengue Fever. The package includes the DVD of the documentary along with some extra material and a CD selection of some of the soundtrack material.

The band's visit was only about 10 days long, but they fit a lot in, including a TV appearance, attending the Bon Om Thook Water Festival, several shows, recording sessions with Cambodian master musicians, and a visit to a traditional music school. Sleepwalking follows a format of showing band performances, archive footage of old Cambodia, interviews with band members, and footage showing the band interacting with Cambodians. For the most part, the interviews are focused on the band's reactions. Additionally, though, there was an interview with the music school teacher and the extras included the band interviewing the master musicians. Listening to the masters play the traditional folk instruments is quite interesting. In general, the sound is jangly and meditatively repetitious with lots of drone notes. It's similar to West African music, like Touré Kunda. Taken as a whole, the documentary is structured to give us a sense of Cambodia and see the band's reaction, sort of in parallel with the music. There's a lot of history here, too, of the times and music before the Khmer Rouge rule, as well as the dark genocide of that rule. There is a clear sense of a culture that is still rebounding from that loss.

Still, the fundamental question raised by Sleepwalking Through the Mekong (and Dengue Fever's existence) is one of artistic merit: does an American band (even with a Cambodian singer) have the right to appropriate another culture's musical tradition to create their own unique songs? The documentary approaches the issue obliquely. The band mentions people's positive reactions to their music and the documentary shows people enjoying the shows, but it's not until late in the movie that the question is even asked. And even then, it's just tossed out and dismissed. This deserves more attention.

On the one hand, mainstream American music has adroitly appropriated the trappings of other cultures for commercial success. The "white" rerecordings of race records of the '50s (e.g. Pat Boone, etc) illustrate this. In a more modern example, it can be argued that Paul Simon's Graceland introduced many people to South African music, but it's also a watered down version. To a more familiar audience, musical appropriation looks like a casual foray into a culture without true understanding.

Still, to take the other side, there are musicians like Ry Cooder, who have immersed themselves in other musical cultures to extend their own. Ultimately, Dengue Fever falls more into this category. Through their music, their press interviews, and this film, they go to great lengths to share a love they have developed for the pioneers of Khmer Rock, like Sinn Sisamouth. This intent is what gives their music more depth. Another point in their favor is that Khmer Rock is itself a cultural appropriation of American surf and psychedelic rock into Cambodian culture. So, a return trip seems fair.

The sense of Cambodian heat and the traffic scenes reminded me a little of my visit to Bangalore India. In that spirit, I'll raise a glass of light lager (say, Angkor beer) to an intriguing country.

DVD review - My Morning Jacket, Okonokos

My friend Tommy loaned this to me specifically for me to review it. I really appreciate any suggestions for stuff to review -- especially when it's something that the person has strong feelings about.

My Morning Jacket has a very interesting history. They started out as a sort of alt-country band out of Louisville, KY but they've evolved past that into popular indie rock stars. The progression reminds me a little bit of how Jeff Tweedy reinvented himself: leaving Uncle Tupelo to form Wilco and then taking that band well beyond its Americana roots. My Morning Jacket has some sonic links to Wilco, as well -- some of the vocal styling and lyrical turns sound like Tweedy and sometimes the guitars have that post-Yankee Hotel Foxtrot vibe.

Overall, though, My Morning Jacket has more of a British sound, especially with their arrangements. Many of the songs are intricately assembled with neat little simple pieces that fit together to create a more complex whole. Think of Radiohead or a less keyboardy version of Massive Attack. Add some Flaming Lips (especially the drum parts) and some of Nirvana's shoegazing intensity and a splash of Robert Pollard's writing style (Guided By Voices). Taken together, the music in Okonokos is an intense psychedelic take on progressive rock.

Okonokos is a stunning concert film but there's an odd little story bookending the show. At the beginning, we find ourselves outside a large house with a party in full swing. A man (Brandon Jones) arrives and joins the party. The costumes and set are all designed as a sort of Victorian pastiche. After failing to connect with the other guests, the man sees a (slightly glowing) alpaca and the two step outside. They hear some tones and follow the sounds to glowing lights in a nearby forest, thus joining the concert. In the first song and a few times later in the show, the man is sort of a visual touchstone. The camera revisits him to track his reaction to the music. At the end of the show, the man and alpaca leave and the man is attacked by a bear.

Sitting here afterwards, I'm not so sure I really appreciate this. The beginning section is whimsical but short and it gives a dadaistic slant to the early songs. The end, though, seems gratuitously violent and it really breaks the mood of the show. If the music (especially at the end) were more threatening, it might have worked better. At least it doesn't interfere with the music.

Visually, this concert DVD stands out. The lighting was designed by Marc Brickman, who's also worked with Bruce Springsteen and Pink Floyd. This was stunning. The lighting was always in service to the music. A great example was during It Beats 4 U, where the music is providing an interesting groove. The foreground is drenched in a deep blue, while the background is full of red, yellow, and orange. The back scrim of trees and vines is clear and all of the band members are backlit and outlined. It emphasizes some of the musical contrasts going on at the same time. Later, during One Big Holiday, the colors are intensely saturated and, combined with heavy strobe, they give the band an animated look. Prior to this, I've considered Phish to make good, innovative use of lighting but this was more complex and more tightly coupled to the music. Dondante could be used to teach the craft: the lighting almost drives the tempo and mood changes instead of reacting to them.

The editing was also significantly better than most concert DVDs. There was a balance between showing detailed action on the stage and pulling back to give a wider angle. All of the musicians get attention from the camera, which helps showcase the intricacy of how these pieces all come together. The Way That He Sings has some beautiful camera work. I'm sorry I can't find a better clip to share than this. In particular, I wish it had one of the songs I've already mentioned instead of Anytime.

All of this talk about lighting and editing, I shouldn't forget the music. These are all fairly powerful songs, played by a tight band in peak performance. I loved most of them and could easily walk through each one but I'll show a little discipline and pick a smaller set. If I could only pick one, it would be It Beats 4 U. Rounding it out to four, I'll add Off The Record, Dondante, and Run Through. It's hard to choose, though, because Jim James is a great writer and these are all excellent songs.

It Beats 4 U has a fairly basic beat but the drummer (Patrick Hallahan) throws in a quick little riff that adds complexity. This song is a showcase for the kind of arrangement I mentioned earlier: a simple arpeggiated guitar and simple keyboard parts contrast with with the manic intensity of the drums and bass. Vague vocals and a slightly drifting melody add another layer and the result is quite trippy. The amazing lighting is just icing at this point.

A drum machine starts Off The Record, with very stripped down vocals and bass. When the band kicks in, the rhythm is jerky but cool. The overall sound is like Wilco trying to play like the Clash. Frequent references to the Hawaii 5-0 theme become a regular leitmotif. Soon, the Clash gives way to a more psychedelic section, which plays behind Alpaca Man's weird flashback to the party. It comes down at the end with some keyboard. All in all, a pleasant roller coaster ride.

Dandante starts with a naked vocal, sometimes slipping up into falsetto. The guitar comes in faint and thin but it builds in volume and tempo. Then the song is overwhelmed in a wall of sound. Hypnotic vamping drives the sound while the lead guitar flails. Then things settle down and, as the guitar switches to a thick, tremolo-laden repetition, the saxophone comes in. I need a rest after this, it's so heavy.

But almost immediately, a sweet distorted guitar kicks in, starting Run Through. Maybe it's hinting at Eric Clapton playing Little Wing... Washes of sound from the second guitar arise with the first guitar surfing across the top. Eventually, this slips into a bass groove section that shifts the mood and finally ends in mind blowing feedback. But wait. It's not really over, the grind starts again, slower this time, and it drives to the real end of the song.

In general, I'm not a big proponent of concert DVDs. I'd rather have my memories of seeing the band or my own images to go with the music. But this is a clear exception to that rule. An outstanding DVD of a great band, it has everything: great visuals supporting intense music. Pair this up with some electric Kool-Aid or a Belgian strong golden ale like Gouden Carolus Tripel.