Recording review - The Moondoggies, Adiós, I’m a Ghost (2013)

Formless album doesn't fly

It’s a flippant title but Adiós, I’m a Ghost sets the mood for this collection of disparate songs. But rather than cheekiness, abandonment is the unifying thread as the Moondoggies drift from proclamatory indie rock to ruminative folk sounds and beyond. On the surface, the songs work the idea of loss, from the girlfriend leaving in “Red Eye” to the singer who “can’t take it anymore,” on “Back to the Beginning”. But the theme runs even deeper within band’s psyche. Guitarist Kevin Murphy summed up the group’s intention behind the project, “I hope this album relays our want to have no form.” Turning away from their Americana roots, the Moondoggies accomplished their goal, but the net result is disappointingly uneven.

The songs themselves aren't bad, taken in isolation, but the group maintains their distance and rarely commits to the tunes. The lack of flow makes it harder to take any particular turn very seriously. “Pride” is a great example; it’s a melancholy folk tune that tells a dark story of isolation, suicide and self-recrimination. It’s a powerful piece that could anchor the project. Perhaps thinking along those lines, the Moondoggies bookend the album with samples from “Pride”: “I’m a Ghost” and “Adiós, I’m a Ghost” each use a piece of the ethereal choral moan from the track. It’s a bit clever, but that cuteness undercuts the poignant depth of the tune. They also shortchange the song’s punch by sticking it between the breezy oldies sound of “Midnight Owl” and the trippy rock of “A Lot to Give”.

As a result, the more self-contained rockers like “A Lot to Give” are the songs that fare best. That particular track is my favorite because it stands strong even in the emotional wake of “Pride”. The opening moments immediately clear the slate with a quick drum fill and an intriguing instrumental intro. The bass lays down a pensive, trudging line while the guitar accents the off-beat and a retro organ chord mortars the gaps. The psychedelic feel builds when the vocals come in. The first line is sung together, “I forgive and I forget the ones that I love most,” but then individual parts fall like dominos: “Even though,” “do you suppose?” “I don’t know.” It’s a cool technique that reminds me of Jefferson Airplane’s old arrangements. It doesn't hurt that one of the boys could easily pass for Marty Balin, which evokes the Airplane and mid-‘70s Starship on several of these songs. “A Lot to Give” overcomes the directionless feel of the playlist by creating its own space over the course of six minutes. In fact, the bombastic chorus is theatrical enough that I've forgotten “Pride” within the first two minutes. The bridge intensifies the Jefferson Airplane effect: the instrumental lead resurrects a touch of “White Rabbit”, while the vocal melody borrows from “Come Up the Years”. The lengthy outro sets a more modern tone that pushes the song beyond its influences. I can appreciate that the Moondoggies want to reject form and predictability, but an album of material like this would have made my top of the year list.

The more I listen to Adiós, I’m a Ghost, the more I want to dissect its tracks into a set of playlists. Then “Red Eye”, “Start Me Over”, “One More Chance”, and “Back to the Beginning” could coalesce their indie jangle and “Midnight Owl” could better complement “Stop Signs” in retro goodness. If the band refuses to give me context, I’ll create my own.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Front Range recommended shows, 9/16

I hope everybody is staying as dry as possible. Warm thoughts go out to friends in Jamestown and Lyons that were hit hard by flooding in the last week.

Tuesday, 17 September (Pepsi Center, Denver CO)
Muse

I caught Muse three years ago at the Pepsi Center (review) and it was a spectacular show. The venue
accommodated their impressive multi-level, moving stage setup, but the music alone would have blown me away. Pacing, staggering dynamics, and emotional intensity make Muse a tremendous live act. Expect the same from this show.

Tuesday, 17 September (Bluebird Theater, Denver CO)
The Slackers

It's been a couple of years since I last saw The Slackers (review), but their patented R&B flavored ska perfectly captures the early days of the genre. They've got the beat, the energy, and the horns, but their key weapon is the one-two punch of two strong frontmen. Trombonist Glen Pine has a huge stage presence and soulful delivery while Vic Rugiero tears it up on organ and serves up a great mix of irony and attitude.

Tuesday, 17 September (Boulder Theater, Boulder CO)
Jimmy Cliff

Of course, you could follow the ska path a little further down the time line and catch reggae great Jimmy Cliff on his Many Rivers tour. Cliff hasn't been resting on his laurels and rehashing history; he's got newer material from last year's Rebirth and he's still finding relevant connections with today's crowds. His iconic voice is still strong and he remains an articulate activist and performer.

Wednesday, 18 September (Gothic Theatre, Denver CO)
Brother Ali

Rap artist Brother Ali is hard to separate from all of the stereotypes he shatters, but his strong voice and political perspective makes it clear that his message is more important to him than any of that other stuff. His most recent album, Mourning in America and Dreaming in Color (2012), doesn't pull any punches while questioning the status quo and the powers that support it.

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)