Concert review - Bethany and Rufus, with Brahim Fribgane

30 April 2015 (Baur's Listening Lounge, Denver CO)

^4.0/5.0

Baur's Listening Lounge is a new venue on the Denver music scene. It's a stylish bar and restaurant in the heart of downtown Denver with music events hosted by the non-profit Music Appreciation Society. The M/A/S is focused on quality acoustic performances across genres. Aside from sponsoring Bethany and Rufus, they have a diverse selection of shows coming up, ranging from Brazilian jazz to chamber music. They aim to create a respectful, concert hall experience; the venue's intimate space encourages a greater sense of immediacy and connection. That worked fairly well for this show, but the lounge atmosphere meant that there was more conversation and distraction out at the edges of the room. The host, David Spira, tried with mixed success to keep that under control, but, fortunately, Bethany and the other musicians were captivating enough to overcome the mild commotion.

Bethany and Rufus

Call it chemistry or magic, it's a beautiful thing when people come together to form a greater whole. Rufus Cappadocia carries on a cellist's tradition of expanding the role of his instrument. Where Zoe Keating turned towards looping to create layered masterpieces, Cappadocia takes the instrument out of the classical chamber and engages with the exotic sounds of North Africa and other global sources. He has an incredible ear and phenomenal technical proficiency. Bethany Yarrow grew up immersed in American folk and spiritual music, but she's built on that foundation to find musical connections that reach across the world. She has the vocal strength of a young Joan Baez, but she often taps into a soulful expressiveness that takes it to another level. The two find common ground with their global ear for music and they complement each other in how they internalize the rhythms and tones, whether through dance or flamboyant playing.


Bethany and Rufus have a new album coming out, Trouble in the Land, recorded with  their Roots Quartet. The bad news is that this tour did not include flutist Yacouba Moumouni or percussionist   Bonga Jean-Babtiste, so we missed out on the full band experience heard on their Soundcloud page. It was hard to feel too bad about this, though, because they had added a touring musician, Brahim Fribgane, who filled out the arrangements adroitly on cajón (box drum). Fribgane's playing was full of syncopated rhythm, but he also occasionally provided melodic accompaniment on the oud.


For lack of a better pigeonhole, Bethany and Rufus could be called folk musicians, they drew on that connection with their opening song, a rendition of the Civil Rights anthem "Ain't Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around". In classic folk style, Yarrow pulled the crowd in to sing along, but this version was a joyful funk jam. That funk feel continued into "900 Miles". Cappadocia picked out a busy bass line on his cello while Yarrow soulfully coiled around the lyrics, letting the song build up a sizzling heat. When Fribgane came in, his drumming pushed it into a full-on danceable groove.


The funky R&B was a good way to get the crowd warmed up, but by the time they got to their reworked version of "This Train", the North African influence on their music was undeniable. Cappadocia switched over to a unique quartet-tone baritone guitar that combined a pair of bass strings with two higher pitched twin strings, like the courses on a twelve string guitar or mandolin, while Fribgane played the oud. The restless polyrhythmic beat and the semi-tone melodies from the fretless oud reminded me a lot of the Malian blues that Ali Farka Touré used to play. Where a lot of arrangements for this song might rely on percussion to create a train wheel rhythm, Cappadocia and Fribgane set up repeated riffs that rolled like waves through the tune. Even without the oud, that North African sound resurfaced throughout the set.


After a brief intermission, the band came back for a second set that showed a very different side. The rhythms were more Latin and the songs rooted in those cultures rather than the American folk tradition. The centerpiece was a three song series, all associated with the Brazilian "Queen of the Forest", Juriama (sp?). Yarrow explained the mythology and put the songs in context, which seemed steeped in a kind of animism. The spirituality came across as a bit New Age, but most of the audience was receptive and the music overcame everyone else's reservations. Where the first set had been moody and soulful, these tunes were much more upbeat, and Yarrow danced ecstatically during the instrumental sections.


Bethany and Rufus are well matched as a duo and this show captured both their strengths. Yarrow's naturally open stage presence made her the friendly face of the band, while Cappadocia's wide-ranging technical prowess, from percussive tapping that suggests Les Claypool to tightly looped flurries, gave the music depth and complexity.  It was great performance anchored in heart, rhythm, and soul.


More photos on my Flickr.

Reissue review: Camper Van Beethoven, Our Beloved Revolutionary Sweetheart/Key Lime Pie

Best intentions didn't find their audience at the time, but the reissues show creativity under pressure

It may have seemed like a good idea at the time, but it was just another case of a record label casting around for the Next Big Thing. Camper Van Beethoven’s first three albums, packed with a quirky mix of Eastern European folk, psychedelia and punk, had scored well with critics and college radio, so Virgin Records signed the band in 1987 and probably hoped for the best. Virgin followed the standard major-label script and tried to support the band, but inevitably applied their own creative aesthetic. The production polished the band’s sound and added horns, but it also sanded away some of the character. The musical mélange was still there, but the chaos was more bottled up and the emphasis was on the vocals. Despite all of that effort, they likely didn’t quite understand the end result. They gave Our Beloved Revolutionary Sweetheart the usual record company push and generated some interest on MTV, but the mainstream audience seemed as confused as the Virgin executives must have been. A year later, the label gave it another shot with Key Lime Pie. By that time, though, band tensions were growing; multi-instrumentalist Jonathan Segel had already left. Their cover of Status Quo’s “Pictures of Matchstick Men” did fairly well, but the rest of the band imploded shortly afterwards.

It’s a shame that Our Beloved Revolutionary Sweetheart never really found its audience. It may not have been destined for mainstream acceptance, but it also missed the mark with many of the band’s long-time fans. While it’s full of gypsy-tinged psychedelia along with David Lowery’s surrealistic lyrics, the band seems less intriguing and the mood is a bit darker. Even when a song does deconstruct itself, like the middle section of “She Divines Water”, it’s just a brief interlude. Lowery’s poetic love song grows in scope, flowering into a celebration of joy and uplifting violin, before melting into a disorienting memory palace of associations. But after a mere 20 seconds or so, a gentle version of the theme returns to put the song to bed. Similarly, while “Turquoise Jewelry” does take advantage of the horn section to suggest early Oingo Boingo’s dark carnival style, the song itself is less exploratory than their earlier material.

Although the original release benefited from the better quality engineering that Virgin provided, this reissue does a fine job of demonstrating the technical improvements since then. Listening to “Waka”, the individual tracks shine with clarity. As the acid rock instrumental steps through its paces, each layer is distinct. The package also includes the usual run of extra tracks. The band honors their punk roots by covering the Buzzcocks, the Damned, and the Stranglers, along with a surprising version of Paul Simon’s “Kodachrome”. But the two most interesting songs are their instrumental surf guitar take on the well-known spiritual, “Wade in the Water” and a Frankenstein’s monster edit reuniting the two parts of “Eye of Fatima”. The former works surprisingly well, summoning the intensity of the Ventures and other surf icons, but the “Eye of Fatima” mash-up doesn't quite score. The two source pieces share a title, but little else; part one is a solid rocker while part two is a slow burn folk-to-psychedelic head-trip. This edit grafts the instrumental onto the end of the rocker, sacrificing the slower intro section of part two. A sharp segue barely attempts to mask the join. That’s the only real misstep on this rerelease.

Although Key Lime Pie continued Camper Van Beethoven’s move towards a more controlled sound and it’s their only album without Segel, I’ve always liked it better than Our Beloved Revolutionary Sweetheart. It has a stronger set of songs, especially the one-two punch of “Opening Theme” into “Jack Ruby” that contrasts two perspectives. The first tune is a stately instrumental, relying largely on the violin for moody ambiance. Although Lowery can sneer and effortlessly generate quirky imagery, this kind of melting pot of stylistic influences is what has always attracted me. The hypnotically snaking melody suggests a different era and culture. “Jack Ruby”, on the other hand, opens with a discordant run of acoustic guitar that pushes the piece off balance. Like Sweetheart, this reissue features the same clarity, making it easier to distinguish that what I had originally heard as an echo is actually a second, out of phase guitar. If “Opening Theme” has a well-mannered Old World folk feel, Lowery makes this a modern folk song with his raw recounting of Jack Ruby and the murder of Lee Harvey Oswald. The new mix also brings the electric guitar fills even further to the front. Other great tracks on the album include the off-kilter “The Light from a Cake” and “(I Was Born In a) Laundromat”, which predates “Smells Like Teen Spirit”, but serves up some righteous proto-grunge.

Key Lime Pie takes a different turn for its extra tracks. After “Closing Theme”, which was originally intended to bookend “Opening Theme”, the band serves up a fun, psychedelic remix of “Laundromat” that’s over the top with excess: screaming metallic guitar riffs, back-masked segments and a frat boy chant (“Go! Go! Go!"). Most of the remaining extra tunes are clean but compressed concert recordings of songs from the band’s back catalog. One exception is their live cover of the country classic, “Before I Met You”. The song was originally a hit for Carl Smith in the ‘50s, and Charlie Pride and Porter Wagoner got mileage in the ‘60s. The intro demonstrates the similarity between this melody and “Sad Lovers Waltz”. This take is a duet between Lowery and Segel’s replacement, Morgan Fichter.

These two reissues show Camper Van Beethoven doing their best to tap their creativity from within the confines of their record label. Their sound never did reach the mainstream; Lowery would be much more successful at that with his next band, Cracker. But the improved mix and extras make both of these packages attractive. Omnivore even offers each in vinyl format as well.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Concert review - Beats Antique with Blockhead and Itchy-O Marching Band

11 April 2014 (Fillmore Auditorium, Denver CO)

A Thousand Faces and a thousand stories. Beats Antique took to Kickstarter last year to raise money, not for their planned album, A Thousand Faces, but to create a world class show to tour their new album. Showmanship has always been key for this exotic electronic group. While their music is heavily produced and full of intriguing layers of sound from around the world, their shows are rituals of tribal dance fusion driven by insistent rhythms and spectacle.

Choreographer and belly dancer Zoe Jakes deserves a lot of the credit for shaping the band’s stage presence. When I first saw the group in 2011, I was entranced by her dancing, which not only provided a context for the tunes, but also inspired the audience to abandon themselves to the physicality of the music. Jakes and her partners, David Satori and Sidecar Tommy Cappel, balanced at a nexus of rave, cultural outreach and ritual. The Fillmore was several times larger than that 2011 concert venue, and the new show took full advantage, delivering an overwhelming spectacle that rivaled any big pop band production. The Kickstarter money was well-spent on video projection technology from Obscura Digital, top-notch lighting and, of course, alluring costumes and choreography.

Opening acts: Itchy-O Marching Band, Blockhead

The opening acts each found their own contact points with the Beats Antique experience. Denver’s Itchy-O Marching Band paraded around the outside of the venue with their chaotic electro-rhythmic blare before making their entrance through the main doors. Their bright and blinking uniforms couldn’t offset the dark menace of their masked faces.

In contrast, producer/DJ Blockhead (Tony Simon) didn’t try to compete visually. Instead, he kicked off his set with a spooky riff full of intensely layered percussion. The sound of spirits in the shadows and foreign scales suited Beats Antique’s sonic palette, but he went on to evolve long-form pieces, moving through dance, sexy R&B and jazz before returning to the stranger tones he started with. His sample selections—a well-placed and mutated bit of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight,” a jazzy take on “Sunny” against a moody soul groove—sprinkled tasty little surprises throughout his set.

Beats Antique

Before Beats Antique began their show, their stage was filled with boxy blocks that looked like a collection of white birdhouse blanks. Along with the backing scrim, these would become screens for the video projection. Cappel’s drum kit was behind and above one line of blocks while Satori’s collection of instruments was set behind the other. As the music started, these boxes became a small village with a large gnarled tree in the town square. The effect was strong, with Cappel and Satori embedded within the scene. The music was a blend of live instrumentation and pre-recorded parts. So, in addition to his other gear, Satori played producer, mixing parts into the song. As the tune built up energy, the projection turned psychedelic, flashing swirls of high contrast op-art over the stage, but still preserving the tree as a centerpiece.

The imagery shifted for each song, becoming a Southeast Asian temple for Jakes’ first dance. Later, we’d appreciate the versatility of the set up as it transitioned through a mind-blowing collection of tableaux: retro Asian pen-and-ink animations, a game show set, a giant snake’s lair and a video game battlefield among others. The set designers did a fantastic job of delivering this variety without letting the technology become the focus. It was easy to forget the initial blocky appearance and become immersed in the show. Similarly, the set and live instrumentation distracted from the technical aspects of the backing tracks.


Jakes’ stage craft also played a strong part. Her mesmerizing movements created a focal point and storyline for the songs to hang on. Aside from belly dancing and modern interpretive dance, she used elements of Kabuki, Balinese dance and other cultural traditions. She was stylized and theatrical, but still drew on an earthy physicality. One of the strongest moments came during “Viper’s Den.” Her costume simulated snakeskin with a slinky sheath and cobra-like headpiece. After writhing around in sinuous seduction, she melted back into the set and another dancer enveloped her from behind, hiding her from view. Suddenly, the pair unfolded and revealed Jakes’ costume change. Her dress and headpiece were gone, and the two were decked out as fan dancers. Where her earlier expression had been wicked and intense, now she played the tease with broad bawdiness.

Even the campier tunes from A Thousand Faces played well. During the game show pastiche “Doors of Destiny,” a volunteer took his chances picking one of three doors to receive either “Eternal damnation, everlasting life or unlimited bandwidth and one year’s free technical support.” Of course, that didn’t go well, and he was attacked by a giant inflatable demon during the song’s glitch-step grinding climax. Later, Beats Antique performed their song “Beelzebub” with a pre-recorded Claymation by Les Claypool.

The overwhelming spectacle, exotic music and visceral bass punch contributed to the rave atmosphere. Dozens of Zoe acolytes danced their own steps, and every third person wore some kind of crazy outfit. The audience often competes with the stage at this kind of show, but glow sticks and LED displays merely added ambiance.

More photos on my Flickr.

Recording review - Sam Shalabi, Music for Arabs (2014)

Difficult, disorganized, dippy, and defiant

Can a 50-year-old man write anything relevant about Miley Cyrus’ musical and cultural significance? Well, if he has a teenage daughter, he might have enough of a clue to get his bearings. But otherwise he’s stuck with an outsider’s perspective. Sam Shalabi’s new album poses its own related challenge, throwing down a gauntlet for the uninitiated. Although the title, Music for Arabs, might appear to indicate his target audience, that’s just a feint. While Shalabi draws heavily on his Egyptian musical roots, the chaotic experimental approach is actually geared towards fans of “difficult-listening music.” The opening track, “Music for the Egyptians”, begins with a 23 second smoke screen of oddly accented rock ’n’ roll drums before slipping off the rails. The instrumentation, rhythm, and scale runs provide a whiff of Arabic aesthetic, but the breakneck tempo crushes it all together into a cacophony of percussion and frantic notes. It’s more reminiscent of poking sticks into bicycle spokes than music. To be charitable, it could be seen as a kind of commentary on the fast pace of Egyptian urban life, but that’s little comfort. The music eventually becomes a backdrop for a rambling Arabic conversation. I’m not convinced that understanding the language would have made this more interesting. About five and a half minutes in, the speaking stops and the piece turns into an Edgard Varèse style “organized sound” composition. The musical timbres and beats are irregular, but at least I have the rubric to appreciate this a bit more as Shalabi creates a suspenseful, cinematic feel. At 8:50, the piece transitions again, setting up a droning undertone of keyboard wash and wandering synthesized bagpipe melodies before dissolving away.

If “Music for the Egyptians” is quite off-putting, it still offers hints of an attractive musical realm. The second track, “Luxor Dancer”, is a deliberately obtuse artistic statement rather than a serious musical offering. Shalabi gives us 30-odd seconds of bicycle spokes again and then falls into a deconstructed disco parody. Imagine Mr. Hankey from “South Park” belting out, “I want to dance/ I’ve been to France,” in his strained falsetto and you get the idea. By the time a weird southern character drops in to drawl about dancing and his dog, Jenny, it’s impossible to take Shalabi very seriously.

Interestingly enough, though, if the listener can make it past these two formidable hurdles, Music for Arabs grudgingly delivers on the initial expectations. The music becomes less confrontational, tempering the strangeness with more traditional Arabic sounds. The fusion of influences leads to some more intriguing work. “The Wherewithal” starts with a meditative oud riff over a steady beat. Light flashes of distortion hover at the edges, but the mood remains thoughtful as the oud meanders along. As the tremolo picking builds intensity, the fuzzy ambiance comes to dominate and the song evolves into a chaotic Velvet Underground tribute, echoing some of Lou Reed’s guitar work on “European Son”. Shalabi gives himself over to the psychedelic jam approach that he’s favored in his other band, The Shalabi Effect, and it’s very engaging.

The album wraps up with “Music for the Egyptians, Pt. 2”, which counterbalances the opening track. It’s packed with restless melody, tracing a path and then reversing direction only to retrace again. If the first tune gave a sense of modern Egypt, this song makes a strong case for the power of tradition. In an interview with fellow musician Alan Bishop on Forced Exposure, Shalabi described Music for Arabs as “a very playful fuck you to that whole cultural colonialism of the serious musicologist, who sees Arabic music as this happy little palatable ‘entertainment’ for Westerners.” “Music for the Egyptians Part 2” serves as his peace offering to them and to the rest of us for persevering through the first two tracks.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Recording review - Beats Antique, A Thousand Faces - Act 1 (2013)

Every taste offers another intriguing melange

Beats Antique may let their guest artists step up front and show their faces, but the exotic blend of Gypsy flavored electronica reveals the band behind the mask. The songs may vary quite a bit, but there's an open minded aesthetic and familiar sonic predilections that will satisfy long-time fans. That established audience is the target for A Thousand Faces - Act 1. The self-released album spawned a Kickstarter project to create an innovative stage production that would show off the new music and their fans quickly responded to support the vision. It's hardly news for a band to turn to crowd-funding, but many of their supporters may not directly benefit from the show if they live off the tour route. Beats Antique overcame that challenge because their fan base appreciates their cross-disciplinary artistic vision and can buy into the thrill of patronage.

Like their other releases, A Thousand Faces is as influenced by Zoe Jakes' choreography as it is by musicians David Satori and Sidecar Tommy Cappel. The sinuous and exotic "Kismet" is inseparable from Jakes' dancing. Sarod player Alam Khan begins the song with sly glances and calculated deliberation. The song quickly picks up an Arabic belly dancing tonality. As the tune feints forward and then retreats, it's easy to imagine the accompanying dance that weaves along with the spidery creep of the rhythm. "The Approach" also reflects a strong physicality. The Latin horns follow along behind a stalking beat. Like a ritual march or parade, the piece has a heightened theatricality, but it's powered by an aura of nervous excitement. The first half plays larger than life, but it slides into a sparser section full of bass menace. Squiggling electronica weaves around a slide banjo riff for a short interlude before the track returns to the opening pursuit.This has all of the elements that make Beats Antique great. A cultural stew of influences come together, expressed through acoustic and electronic instruments with a rhythm that demands movement and engagement.

A Thousand Faces has its stranger facets as well. "Doors of Destiny" is tossed out as a surrealistically comic interlude. The game show conceit is amusing, but the wonderful Eastern European Gypsy vamp lets it stand up to repeated listening. About two minutes in ("You chose door number two" *meow*), the tune melts down and turns into a dark, dubsteppy roller-coaster. Whooping highs inevitably give way to stripped gear lows. I only wish this musical interlude was longer. The other oddball is the Les Claypools collaboration, "Beezlebub". Claypool's distinctively glitchy bass style is blended with bass grinds and bubbles. The piece captures his off-beat funk and quirky vocals but fits them into the Beats Antique sonic universe, almost as if they're remixing Primus.

The songs evoke a host of different moods and flavors: Balinese-tinged anticipation on "Charon's Crossing", momentous electro-pop with "You The Starry Eyed", and a cinematic turn featuring a sly alien presence on "Viper's Den". Despite all the costume changes, though, it's unequivocally a Beats Antique project and among their finest.

Recording review - Pink Martini, Get Happy

Small orchestra under the biggest of tents

Pink Martini is probably the finest small orchestra playing today. Sure, that’s a lot like naming the foremost modern Sanskrit poet, but they take their mission seriously. Their new release, Get Happy, demonstrates how versatile they can be with a mélange of lounge music, jazz standards, Latin dance music, and even a Scott Joplin rag that dates back to 1907. Nothing exceeds like excess, and they embrace this by augmenting their two strong female singers with a cast of guest vocalists including Rufus Wainwright and Phyllis Diller. Diller is, of course, not known for her singing, but the band recorded her poignant version of “Smile” in her own living room last year before her death. The comedienne rose to the challenge, speak-singing her way through the song made famous by Nat King Cole: “Light up your face with gladness/ Hide every trace of sadness/ Although a tear may be ever so near.” The first of Wainwright’s two tracks, “Kitty Come Home”, is equally sentimental if you know the context. Wainwright’s aunt Anna McGarrigle wrote the song to his mother, folk-singer Kate McGarrigle, when she and Loudon Wainwright III split up. Wainwright’s voice is beautiful in the emotionally charged moment.

But does excess equal success? The scope of material and moods pushes Get Happy over the top, but it’s also the album’s Achilles heel. The stylistic leaps can be disconcerting. Rodgers and Hart’s jazz standard “She Was Too Good to Me” veers into the heavy mambo beat of “Sway” and then the band swoops under the emotional weight of “Kitty Come Home". At least the language provides some continuity during that wild ride. The rest of the album is international enough to entertain a U.N. cocktail party: Spanish, German, Japanese, even Farsi gets a chance in the spotlight along with several others. The multicultural flair is overwhelming.

The only way to cope is to take each tune as a standalone piece. The album may be warped by all these disparate forces, but within the context of an individual track, Pink Martini commits to consistency. On the Cuban cha-cha “Quizás, Quizás, Quizás”, the lush strings usher us in and Storm Large’s warm tone sings us a welcome. The verses are understated; the arrangement focuses on the rhythm rather than flash. But the chorus turns fiery as Large voices the impatient accusation, “Estás perdiendo el tiempo” (trans. “You’re wasting time”). A couple of songs later, the band’s primary lead singer, China Forbes, hits the lounge with Philippe Katerine for a sweet, French easy-listening duet, “Je ne t’aime plus”. The jazzy rhythm guitar is buoyed by a light piano and a raft of syrupy strings. The background accents move around from a light chiming percussion to harp flourishes.

Only a couple of tracks miss their mark. The aforementioned “Smile” has its heart in the right place, but Diller’s vocal is meaningless unless you know her and pitting a brilliant but elderly comic against the bittersweet lyrics is weak irony. The other misstep is the conjoined mash-up of “Get Happy/Happy Days”, which pits the two base songs against one another. Wainwright and Forbes do their best with interlocked lyrics, but Wainwright has to strain to find the “Get Happy” melody and the phrasing never quite aligns. Still, with so many different vectors on this album, a couple of strays are almost inevitable.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Concert review - Govinda with David Starfire, Cualli, and Goldilocks

Wednesday, 2 October 2013 (Aggie Theatre, Ft. Collins CO)

More than just a mid-week rave, Govinda and his tour arranged for a happening that encompassed art and dance in addition to the music. Painters generated psychedelic primitive imagery at the back of the venue during the show and dancers took the stage at will to channel and interpret the music in physical form.


This extra bit of theater was a good strategy to address the fundamental problem of turning laptop-oriented music production into a performance. Each of the players had their own angle for confronting this conundrum.

Goldilocks

Goldilocks took the tweaker DJ approach. Intently focused on his wide array of equipment, he stayed in constant motion. Adjusting a slider here, adding a light keyboard riff there, he made mixing a track look like a juggling act. Despite the furious action, my sense is that most of the effort took place earlier in the studio and his hive of activity was an equal balance of simple mixing and adding accents. That said, I appreciated that his pieces evoked a lot of different moods, from trippy dance beats to dark voyages filled with throbbing bass and bubbling tension. It was a decent warm-up set, but it offered little of his personality.

Cualli

Cualli had a completely different style. The bulk of his set was based on tracks he created in advance. The pieces favored a lot of international influences, especially Asian tonalities. Despite the cool, hypnotic sound, he had almost no stage presence as he dreamily danced along to his shrink-wrapped tunes. A couple of songs into the set, I was about to write him off when he transformed his performance. He pulled out his guitar and played over the pre-fab tracks. In contrast to his spacey dancing, his fretwork was remarkably focused. Chord stabs added depth to the synth washes and trance grooves and his lead work ranged from singing melodies to spacious post rock jams and energetic shredding.

It was a startling contrast. Without the guitar, he faded into the background, which didn't do justice to the music he had built up. But adding in the live production element electrified his set.

David Starfire

David Starfire, on the other hand, was all about performance. His technique split the difference between the opening acts, actively mixing his well-designed tracks and adding live percussion work. But, more importantly, he engaged the crowd like a master club DJ.


Dancing and gyrating, his high energy spurred the audience on. Changing up the mix with a small handheld controller, his gestures were large and exciting. His electronic percussion playing was solid, but he made his mark with vibrant physicality as he pounded on the acoustic toms to the side of his deck. He didn't just strike the drum heads, he launched his whole body into the beat. Grinding bass and sharp-edged tones set a rave vibe for a solid start to the set, but then Starfire pulled out a hidden ace. He kicked off the beat and when the opening vocals of "A Day in the Life" came in, the audience rolled back in momentary surprise before enthusiastically responding. This heavily mutated version of The Beatles' tune juxtaposed chopped and scratched samples of the original vocal against a heavy drumstep beat. He followed up with a similar treatment of The Beastie Boys' "Sabotage".


These tracks and others demonstrated Starfire's up front production work. Whether reworking classics or crafting compelling jams out of world-beat samples, he drew on a number of electronic genres and interesting sounds. Paired with his presence and instinctive connection to the audience, it made for a strong show.

Govinda

Govinda followed a similar path, with active track mixing, live overdubs, and strong energy. Where Starfire traded on a manic fervor as he worked the audience, Govinda radiated musical joy, occasionally leavened by intense concentration as he locked into his mixing or his violin riffs. It was a mellower mood than the previous set, but never dragged because his amicable personality buoyed the crowd.


I've loved Govinda's recorded work (Universal On Switch and Resonance), pulled in by his swirling mix of throbbing electronic jams, gypsy-style violin, and exotic inspirations. His set delivered on all of these elements. Indian percussion counts pressed against swooping synthesizers and intergalactic zipper basslines. He'd set up the song components, build a glitchy rhythm, then theatrically thread his echoed and compressed violin through the evocative soundscape. The beats and grinds were visceral enough to maintain a healthy dance spirit but the hypnotic ecstasy of the trance was a strong second locus for his work.


One of my favorite songs in the set was "Plant The Seed", from last year's Resonance. Rosey's lush vocal from the recording cut in and out and Govinda seemed to fall under its spell as he delicately played the melodic theme and rocked to the twisting rhythm and pulsating bottom end. Of course, as the tune wound down, his infectious grin returned and he leaned forward to kick off the next track, sending the audience spiraling into a new direction as he bobbed along with us.


Bright wandering lights, lithe dancers trailing beribboned fans, paintings filled with symbolism, and a long night of evolving musical visions. Bodies and minds were permeated with vibration and euphoria as analog and digital fused.

More photos on my Flickr

Front Range recommended shows, 9/30

Only one show stood out to me this week. I'm sure there's other great music, but sometimes, it's harder to find.

Wednesday, 2 October (Aggie Theatre, Ft. Collins CO)
Thursday, 3 October (Cervantes Masterpiece, Denver CO)
Govinda

Govinda first caught my ear with his release, Universal On Switch (review). The insternational, world-tronica grooves were rich and exotic. I knew that Texas bills itself as a whole other country, but this Austin performer blew me away. His more recent release, 2012's Resonance (review),  continues his growth as both a producer and artist. It's not dub-step, but the bass-grind accents will please and hypnotic violin melodies will lead you to trance-ville.

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)

Recording review - Gogol Bordello, Pura Vida Conspiracy (2013)

Expanding on their gypsy-punk traditions, keeping their eyes on the present

Gogol Bordello doesn't so much march to the beat of a different drummer as dance to the rhythm of a crazy-quilt amalgam of percussion traditions. Starting from founder Eugene Hütz's Gypsy-Ukrainian roots, they've incorporated the ska-tinted punk of The Clash along with elements of jazz and rock and roll. Over time, the band has defied assimilation by absorbing every shiny musical tradition that catches their ear. So far, the Gypsy character still dominates by virtue of Hütz's thick accent and the exotic siren sound of minor key melodies. Moving beyond their loud, thrashy beginnings, their more recent albums, like 2010’s Trans-Continental Hustle, feature more studio polish as they evolve their sound. Pura Vida Conspiracy continues that direction, incorporating influences ranging from Latin rhythms to classic American country. Just as the Clash built on their punk foundation as they matured, Gogol Bordello holds on to their principles while following their muse.

Even as they reinvent their sound by adding new flavors, Gogol Bordello maintains the folk foundation of their music. But their take on folk music seems so much richer than the watered-down, museum quality of most American and British folk. In many ways, they’re quite reminiscent of the Pogues, although they have a stronger philosophical bent. Both bands have filled their albums with chaotic musical celebrations and each is centered on a charismatic front man, but the two leaders are very different. They share a poetic streak, but where Shane McGowan is often incoherent, Hütz is rough but articulate. Both men can be defiant and proud, but McGowan often taps into his anger where Hütz tends toward indignation at injustice.

As he plays the chameleon, taking turns as a firebrand, a lover and a rogue, Hütz’s personality dominates Gogol Bordello. Far from mellifluous, somehow his quavery voice, heavy accent and slurring pronunciation emphasize the earnestness of his lyrics. All the while, he and the band fit together like an old couple, intimately familiar with each others tendencies. As his singing pairs with a violin line, it’s impossible to tell which is leading.

Gogol Bordello has cited Parliament/Funkadelic as a key influence and their performances reflect that. In concert, they create a party on the stage, packed full of spectacle. Their albums move forward with a similar hyperactive energy. But more than mindless fun, these recordings give the band a soapbox. In the case of Pura Vida Conspiracy, Hütz articulated the idea behind the album during a recent Reddit AMA (Ask Me Anything): “Everybody is obsessed with living in a future, living in the past, and consequently the very life itself which is now is abandoned. Our music with its every note demands the attention to the present moment.” The band’s power lies in that engagement with the present. Against a sea of diffident, ironic hipster bands, their music simultaneously pulsates with life and makes them seem larger than life.

The band kicks off Pura Vida Conspiracy with a stirring anthem, “We Rise Again”, In what’s become a standard approach for the band, a chanted beginning sets up a strong minor key rocker. The verses are very idiosyncratic, avoiding structural repetition, so the two part chorus frames the tune with a handful of slogans. The first part couches its message of anarchy with slightly obscure metaphors, “Borders are scars on face of the planet/ So heal away, my alchemy man/ When even atheist holds up a candle/ We gotta rise again/ We rise again.” But the second half, “With a fistful of heart/ And a radical future/ Opa! We rise again,” delivers a crowd-friendly refrain. The frantic pace imbues the piece with a sense of urgency that persists into the solo where violin entwines with guitar in a moody folk melody.

Just as every Gogol Bordello album has its rambunctious moments, they like to balance it out with at least one jazzy interlude. Trans-Continental Hustle offered “Sun On My Side” and their latest has “I Just Realized”. The interlocking guitars at the beginning slip into a Latin rhythm and Hütz's voice is soft and husky, “Is it because I am Russian?/ Is it because you are not?” The beat sashays with Brazilian flair, but the accordion pulls the song into a smoky French cabaret. Following their usual playlist preference, it’s a nice palate cleanser before a heavier up-tempo track. In this case, the Romany party song, “Gypsy Auto Pilot”, serves that role. Looking back with no regrets, Hütz celebrates his life on the fringes, “To discover rules of life/ And how to break them well/ And a key to my Gypsy auto pilot/ And my story to tell.”

Although much of Pura Vida Conspiracy does follow the pattern of their earlier albums, one surprising element is a new-found appreciation of country music. “Malandrino” blends country folk with a touch of conjunto and the country cut-time beat on “Lost Innocent World” finds common ground with Eastern European folk rhythms. The most direct example is the cowboy country of the final track, “We Shall Sail”. Accompanied by a single acoustic guitar, Hütz affects a western drawl that occasionally slips askew to reveal his normal accent. Except for a strange, chromatic turnaround, the arrangement respects the genre, injecting little Gypsy character. Instead the lyrics themselves form the bridge between lonesome cowboy philosophy and socially conscious rebels, “Nothing in this life is good or bad/ It’s we who dress it up as happy or sad.” As the last note fades into silence, it’s a good closer for the album. Of course, if you let the silence run out, eventually you get to the surprising hidden track, where the band proves they have not forgotten their punk roots.

Longtime fans may still miss the raw purity of Gogol Bordello’s breakout release, Gypsy Punks: Underdog World Strike (2005), but Pura Vida Conspiracy is a vibrant addition to their catalog.

(This review first appeared in 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: Os Mutantes, Fool Metal Jack (2013)

Fragmented diversity has no center

Brazilian Tropicália was a late ‘60s movement dedicated to the principle of melding far-ranging sources into an intriguing amalgam. Culture within Brazil encompasses a wide spectrum, but the movement’s founders, Gilberto Gil and Caetano Veloso, looked further afield for foreign influences to spice the mixture. Not long after they formed, Brazilian rockers Os Mutantes connected with Gil and found their first musical home in Tropicália, which provides the best context to understand their latest recording, Fool Metal Jack. Its blending of psychedelia, Latin rhythms, and folk harkens back to the band’s roots, along with shades of the prog rock that they moved on to during the early ‘70s. The Tropicália movement also took on political overtones; indeed, many players like Gil and Veloso were harassed and exiled. The band throws in a taste of that as well, so the album reflects various moods and perspectives. Make no mistake, there is strength in diversity. But taken to an extreme, it can be rootless, where elements are too fragmented and the resulting combination has no center. Fool Metal Jack suffers from just that problem. The first several tracks alone meander through lightly psychedelic folk rock, garage rock, bombastic acid rock and pseudo-reggae. There are high moments as well as low but the project lacks a cohesive vision.

This recording comes from a resurrected version of Os Mutantes featuring original member Sérgio Dias. While Dias has surrounded himself with new players, the band’s sounds and influences remain locked on the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. But like a recently thawed guest from the distant past, they occasionally get distracted by shiny bits of modern flash. The opening track, “The Dream is Gone”, could pass for Sir Douglas Quintet or Los Lobos at first, with a simple folky vibe and the light wheeze of accordion. The chorus suddenly transforms the song into a headier space with laser beam synth shots and a strong Pink Floyd influence. Those pew-pew lasers just add distraction to an otherwise decent song. The title track that follows is another poorly executed idea. Following in the unfortunate steps of Bloodrock’s “D.O.A.”, its explicitly disturbing lyrics paint a gruesome picture: “I’m gonna die, shot in the gut/ My blood is everywhere.” As an anti-war song, it fulfills some of the socially conscious aspects of Tropicália, but it’s too heavy-handed with theatrical coughing and grimaces that are strained enough to hear. At least the verses remain moody and dark to match the theme. The chorus goes for a musical revue feel before settling on the tagline, “Yes!/ No more war.”

Fortunately, Fool Metal Jack rebounds from this early low point. “Look Out” captures a modern jam-band funk groove while maintaining some righteous old-school soul moves. The percussion sets a great groove that never settles into simple repetition. Os Mutantes make a couple of idiosyncratic choices, like the goofy, pitch-shifted voices on the chorus, but these work in the context of the track’s wild party vibe. They also toss in interjections of Native American chanting that a contemporary band would replace with a sample. It’s not a deep track, but it does offer a shadow of the band’s younger enthusiasm. Another fun track is “To Make It Beautiful”, which elevates a simple pick-up line into high art. A pretty classical guitar riff introduces the theme, “To make it beautiful/ I learned a secret path/ Magically wonderful/ I need us to create love tonight.” The logic may be convoluted, but the imperative is clear. The sweet madrigal harmonies and light theatricality suggest Queen’s mellower moments. The song drifts in and out of the original sound, picking up Latin beats and psychedelic haze in turn.

With so many stylistic contradictions running through the album, it’s hard to call any song a true outlier. But the best song on Fool Metal Jack stands alone. The band’s cover of Gil’s “Eu Descobri” is the only track in their native Portuguese and features a strong Asian treatment. Where Gil’s original had a playful bossa nova rhythm and paired classical guitar with lush orchestration, Os Mutantes kick off their version with a tabla beat and touches of sitar buzz. The female vocals drift between India and China in tone, but the pacing is not so different than Gil’s. Despite the sparse feel, the band rolls in numerous exotic details – a flute trill here, minor electronic loops there – that give a sense of complexity without overwhelming the fragile beauty of the piece. The character is foreign enough that the classical guitar seems like an interloper when it adds its voice.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Recording review - Colin Edwin | Jon Durant, Burnt Belief (2012)

 A winding trip through space and mind

Colin Edwin is most well-known for his moody bass work with the progressive Porcupine Tree, but his side projects have tackled contexts from ambient to metal. On Burnt Belief, he partners with guitarist Jon Durant to explore a mix of ethereal space rock and multicultural new age instrumentals. Edwin's expressive playing forms the foundation, but Durant's sense of texture colors each song, creating unique settings.

The early tracks on the album suggest Ozric Tentacles, with sinuous bass, keyboard fills, and engaging syncopation. "Altitude" fades in with a pulsating, liquid ripple. Once underway, fluting synths and a steady beat create a sense of movement. The song hints at the quiet opening of Porcupine Tree's "Arriving Somewhere, But Not Here", but with a more fluid bass line. The guitar soars over the top periodically before dropping back to let the song catch its breath. As the title suggests, the piece clambers ever higher, but with the untethered finish, the song overshoots the top and drifts free to unknown destinations.

From here, Burnt Belief slides into the percussion-driven "Impossible Senses". Hints of tabla and polyrhythm give the song a worldbeat flair. Once again, the smooth guitar meshes with Edwin's slinky bass, but this time it takes on a greater sense of purpose. The repetition of the melodic theme becomes a mantra. Each return reworks the idea a little further, like an expanding mosaic that eventually reveals a larger pattern.

From these spacy beginnings, the album moves into new age realms, with ambient shimmers and fog. The epic showpiece track "Uncoiled" starts with muted swells. Low bells and taps flicker, like a dark house settling around you at midnight. Lightly jarring drips of piano ripple in the hazy darkness, creating a mix of expectancy and disquiet. Wandering the halls, a previously unnoticed doorway comes into focus. Slowly opening, a glowing desert is revealed, complete with Native American flute and soft percussion. Stepping into this new world, sparse elements add to the unreal sensation: metallic harping, echoing piano, and restrained bass. The song eventually coalesces into a hypnotic procession of guitar and bass that continues to support the out-of-body vibe.

Most of the music on Burnt Belief is stellar. Durant and Edwin are natural collaborators. Each voice stands strong without eclipsing the other. There are, however, two weaknesses with the project: one conceptual and the other musical. The duo presents the album as a contrast between faith and reason, inspired in part by Leon Festinger’s When Prophecy Fails, an account of a doomsday UFO cult in the 1950s. But the songs don't reflect that theme and it proves distracting. Ironically, the one track that might draw on that idea suffers from its sense of discontinuity. "The Weight of Gravity" lacks the coherence of the other songs as it mashes up too many unrelated moods. Its slow, meditative start creates a sweat lodge atmosphere. This arbitrarily transforms into a futuristic, electro-psych groove with a sense of purpose which clashes with the opening relaxation. The further drift into an organic fusion jam is less jarring, but lacks any clear sense of flow. While the intention might have been to show the conflict between religion and science, the pair miss their mark.

Despite that, Burnt Belief delivers enough beauty that its flaws can be overlooked. The thoughtful bass line and delicately interleaved guitar and piano on the closing track, "Arcing Towards Morning", cleanses the palate and lets the album end in moment of clarity.

(This review originally appeared on Spectrum Culture)

World music - on location

I recently got the chance to travel for my day job. My flight to India routed through Germany, giving me a chance to take some vacation time to visit old friends and favorite cities. One of my important stops was Bamberg, a beautiful city with a rich heritage. Aside from the fine rauchbier and comfortable atmosphere, I looked forward to visiting my favorite music shop on the Grüner Markt. My mission was to buy Die Ärzte's latest album, Auch (2012). I've been a fan for a long time, appreciating their humor and catchy songs. I could just buy their albums online, but the packaging is often a special treat. For example, Auch comes in a small box and the liner notes unfold into a board game where the CD is the spinner.

While I was there, I decided to discover some new bands. Otto, the shopkeeper, served as my guide. Given that I liked the pop-punk flair of  Die Ärzte, he suggested Wizo and Troopers. Wizo had a good punk sound and flashes of humor while Troopers had more of a metallic punch. Even though they lacked the polish of Die Ärzte, I enjoyed them enough to bring home. The only downside is that these were older albums from the '90s. Still, they'll serve me well for my German practice.

Continuing on to India, I spent the bulk of my time in Mumbai. While I know a fair amount about German music, my knowledge of Indian artists is limited to Ravi Shankar, although I am familiar with the instrumentation. Rather than trying to immerse myself in the roots of Indian classical music, though, I looked for cultural bridges. I found Get Recharged!!! by Anuradha Pal. Pal is a renowned tabla player and her band on this project merges Western elements of jazz and classical into her traditional sounds. "Energy" (a live version is linked below) begins with a lush keyboard and piano intro before bringing in a rhythmic chant of bol or solkattu syllables. The hybrid sound juxtaposes the familiar and the exotic, creating a heady groove.

Pianist Rohhan Patel comes from the other direction. His album, Aseem (Boundless), seems more rooted in a rock foundation, using sitar and tabla to broaden the sound. Unfortunately, I couldn't find any samples to reference below. Finally, I picked up Naviin Gandharv's album, Silver Lining. This album features a unique instrument, the belabaharr, which is something like a violin with droning sympathetic strings. Gandharv's music is distinctly Indian, but offers a hint of new age exploration.

All of these albums reflect the shrinking size of our world. Influences ignore borders and extend local expression. They bridge cultures and, regardless of whether we speak the same language, give both sides a path to appreciation.

Die Ärzte - "Ist das noch Punkrock"

Wizo - "Geisterfahrer"

Troopers - "Kopf hoch"

Anuradha Pal - "Energy"

Naviin Gandharv - "The Royal Touch"

Naviin Gandharv - "Raag Megh" (not from the album, but it shows the belabaharr in a traditional setting)

Recording review - Govinda, Resonance (2012)

Fluid violin against vibro-tronic bass grind builds a mysterious tension

Last year, Govinda (Shane O Madden) made my best of 2011 list with his impressive album, Universal On Switch. On his latest offering, Resonance, Madden continues to develop his sound, taking his gypsy violin and electronic grooves into a darker, bass heavy direction. Like Beats Antique, Govinda is rooted in an exotic world-tronica mix of produced sound, layered acoustic instruments, and foreign beats. But Govinda emphasizes the electronic production more than Beats Antique, giving his tracks a more experimental edge.

Govinda's production is stellar on Resonance. He builds a great 3-d sonic footprint in his tracks, where individual layers stand out from one another and slight EQ differences suggest distance and depth. On Sonic Muse, the individual parts -- the intro voice sample ("Follow me [giggle]"), the twinkling music box notes, the pizzicato notes of main groove -- remain distinct and suggest a wide auditory vista. The basic groove features a deep bubbling bass and sharp accents against a solid trance beat. Indian strings and drums, gypsy violin, and processed fragments of chanted voice all add to the foreign vibe of the piece, but the electronic sound dominates. Madden's violin weaves in and out of the mix with a fluid grace, but the track's structure remains geometrically centered.

The rich vocals on Plant the Seed or Clan of Love are a logical outgrowth from Universal On Switch's Myself. The jam on Plant the Seed gets a lot darker and glitch-driven, but Rosey's sultry voice is the common link:

Put the seed under your tongue
In the Springtime, I will come
Do you feel me grow inside of you?
Let love blossom, let love come through

Rosey is languid and seductive, giving the song a warm, jazzy flavor along with the sentimental strains of violin, but the glitchy music underneath seethes, unsettled. All too soon, the heady syncopation lurking within the electronic foundation grows restless and spawns a grinding bass line. The hint of dub step shifts into a smoother trance vibe that chills out the song into a trippy wind-down.

Resonance is best appreciated with closed eyes, so the listener can be immersed and surrender to the drifting electronic elements. On Candle Fire, Govinda sets a house groove where Indian instruments mesh with the electronic parts to build an exotic, abstract feel. The song develops into the album's iconic bass grind sound. Shimmering chimes, bowed strings, and whistling synth accents all slip in and out of the rasping, vibro-tronic current. Irina Mikhailova's chanting vocals offer a softer contrast to the saw-wave bass. Even with the rhythm hanging back, the track's intensity feeds a climbing tension.

Rounding out the female vocal contributions on the album, Krystyn Pixton offers a cool fem-pop sound on Clan of Love. Pixton's voice is dreamy, but Govinda processes her singing to fit the rolling sound of the tune. The spare, spacious intro yields to an electronic groove with a reggae beat. "I want your crazy/ Want your chaos wind on me." The assortment of parts fit together into a smooth whole, but there's an elemental randomness at work: touches of reggae bubble next to a fiddle melody with a Highlands vibe, and glitch cuts chop the song into Cubist slices. The resulting house of cards seems expertly balanced.

Govinda retains his trance grooves on Resonance, but this is an edgier offering than Universal On Switch. The rattling bass is a strong contributor, but the mix of soft and hard gives the new album a different, mysterious feel. There's greater complexity that pulls this music into the foreground.

Resonance is available on Govinda's Bandcamp page.