Kronoscopy

Monk Suite
Pieces of Africa
Nuevo
Music of Bill Evans

Someone pointed out that the Kronos Quartet covers three general areas of music – minimalists, world/ethnic, and tragic Eastern Europeans. I have several of their minimalist recordings – it's the one school of post-WWII academic music that I enjoy (Glass, Reich, Riley, and others). At their best, minimal compositions are meditative without being banal or soporific (which they are at their worst), and the densely layered sound textures that the composers ring subtle changes against have a strong appeal to me. There's something essentially urban about it, as if a city was singing its autobiography. I think that the music is best in compositions with more than a few voices, but there are exceptions, and Kronos has done several sets that work very well – but that's a subject for another day. As for the tragic eastern Europeans, I haven't delved into them enough to say anything useful about them; that's another future project.

Anyway, after listening to Caravan (see 'Tuning In" below), I decided to expand my exposure to Kronos by listening to some of their jazz work (they haven't done a lot of this, but it has an obvious interest to me as a jazz fan) and some of their other world/ethnic work. With that in mind, I spent some time with the four recordings listed at the beginning of this post.

Monk Suite: The Music of Thelonious Monk
This is one I wished worked better, but it doesn’t. Monk was a terrific jazz composer, but his pieces are inextricably tangled up with his performance – and in a genre where individualism flourishes, Monk was totally sui generis. The main problem here is that Monk’s pieces are based on his piano work, and his piano work was far more percussive than lyrical (except for the occasional piece like his one true standard, “'Round Midnight”). Strings just don’t cut it, even when they’re playing pizzicato (Ron Carter's bass on some tracks helps, but not enough - and those are definitely the best ones). But as a scientist friend once told me, just because an experiment doesn’t work doesn’t mean it was a waste of time. That’s true of this one.

Pieces of Africa
Given my strong liking of African music in its many forms, I was inclined to like this one, and I do. This is an excellent set in general that plays in several African ethnic grooves, assisted by some fine African musicians. The opening and closing pieces, by the late Zimbabwean musician and composer, Dumisane Maraire, are beautifully arranged and played, as is "Waterwheel" by Hamza El Din. This is a CD I’ll go back to.

Neuvo
Another hit for me, this one is a musical impression of Mexico City, opening with an intentionally warped (played that way - not an effect) and scratchy version of a well-known mariachi piece, “El Sinaloense”; the Kronos’ strings play the horn parts, and it feels like something you’d hear playing through the window of a dive cantina. Other pieces touch on a wide variety of Mexican music, ranging from a witty rendition of an Esquivel novelty to an extended sound collage anchored by Café Tacuba. Great stuff.

Music of Bill Evans
Another jazz experiment, and this one works far better. This makes sense because Evans - who had an academic background and who was influenced more by European classicists than by stride and blues-rooted piano styles - was a far more lyrical performer and composer than Monk, more in the mainstream of post-bop jazz (think "Kind of Blue"). As jazz performers, Kronos can swing decently if not seamlessly, and some of the sounds remind me of Joe Venuti and Stephane Grapelli. That’s praise, BTW.

All in all, a good set of discs, and another view of Kronos for me, beyond the Minimalist world they’re best known for. I doubt I’ll play the Monk again, but Nuevo and Pieces of Africa will go in my quadrennial rotation, and the Bill Evans will get some air time in a 5 CD random mix somewhere down the road.

Yo! Check it out!

A brief post in praise of the New York Public Library, a great resource for music explorers. The library's catalog is on-line at the branches as well as the internet and if you're a member, you can request any reservable item (non-research or rarity) to be sent to your local branch; once there, you're notified via email (or snail, if you're without a computer). Their collection has the kinds of peaks and valleys you'd expect – great classical selection, good jazz and world/ethnic, decent blues, and spotty but interesting pop/rock/r&b. There are lots of ways to search, and links for following up on performers, composers, or groupings. If you live, work, or go to school in New York State, you can apply for a card good for the branch libraries in Manhattan, Staten Island, and the Bronx. If you're in the neighborhood, joining up is free and a no-brainer (Brooklyn and Queens have their own library systems, a relic of their pre-1895 independence and the famous library in midtown - the one with the lions – is a non-circulating research library, open to everyone). If you're not, check out your local library system and see what kind of music catalog they have – you could be pleasantly surprised.

And remember, listening is fun-damental!

This Week's Playlist - 9/12 to 9/16

One of the things I thought I'd do when I started this blog/journal was to note my daily work listening (the CD per day I bring with me). Seduced by the power of the long entry, I've gotten away from that without really thinking about it. This morning I thought about it, and decided to include a weekly list. That way I only do the pure journaling part once a week, while continuing to post my current periodic small essays/reviews, etc.

The format is simple: I'll list the CDs by day and comment briefly on each one. Notes from readers are always welcome, of course, including contrary opinions, related recommendations, etc.

To start off, here's this week's list. Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday were all birthday presents, BTW. Yes, I'm another one of those annoying Virgos (as if you couldn't tell from the list habit- - and no, we Virgos do NOT believe in astrology). I'm not going to say any more about the birthday thing except to note that as a former coder, I claim the right to state my age in hexadecimal (for example, 50 dec is 32 hex). And now, the envelope, please:

9/12 – Unclassified by Robert Randolph and the Family Band. Gospel, funk, rock all come together with a solid dose of P-Funk, some Sly and Stevie Wonder-like inventiveness on the beats and arrangements, and Randolph's soaring pedal steel guitar to put a unique signature on the package. Solid band, great sound, and no way you get to sit still.

9/13 – Number Ones by the Bee Gees. I didn't like them that much in their first go round, and I never cared much for disco with a few exceptions. So it surprises me that I like them more now, and particularly for their dance numbers. This collection of #1 hits includes singles like "World" and "Massachusetts", which are smart, very well-crafted and executed pop confections. But the tracks I dig the most now are cuts like "Stayin' Alive" and "Night Fever", even without Travolta's dancing.

9/14 – 'I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning by Bright Eyes. Somewhere I read this guy is the new Dylan. No way, says I, because being the New Dylan is Dylan's full-time occupation. What Bright Eyes may actually be is the new Donovan-in-training. He's got the whiny tone, the precious attitude, and the semi-poetic lyric thing working for him, but there's no song on this set that comes close to "Fat Angel" or "Sunny Goodge Street" or even – musically – "Mellow Yellow". Emmylou Harris, a personal favorite, sings along on a few tracks but that only serves to spotlight Bright Eyes' vocal weakness. I haven't heard enough of his other work to judge him fairly, but based on this CD he's definitely not my cup of bubble tea.

9/15 – No Direction Home by Bob Dylan. Come gather ye Dylan completists wherever you roam - this set is for you. It's the soundtrack to the forthcoming Scorsese documentary, and it offers a large (2 disc) selection of previously unreleased live tracks, alt takes, demos, etc. documenting Dylan's career from its beginnings up to the motorcycle accident (i.e., pre-"John Wesley Harding"). Some of the live tracks are interesting, but just about all the actually released takes are better than the alts, and there's not a lot of new insight into the songs or Dylan's head as a musician. I'm glad I have it, but I suffer from Dylanophilia and I wouldn't recommend this set to anyone who didn't.

9/16 – Blues Summit by B.B. King. Today is Riley B. King's 80th birthday (and if you've been paying attention, that's only 50 in hex!). Of his many recordings, this one struck me as the most party-like, so I'm celebrating along with the likes of Buddy Guy, Etta James, Albert Collins, Ruth Brown, and John Lee Hooker – all of whom, and more, perform with the Beale Street Blues Boy on this set; they're great, and the master of the electrified delta blues is in fine form as usual. So Happy Birthday, B.B. - and I know all lovers of the blues will join me in wishing you many more to come.

The Katrina Mix

Well, I held off putting a Katrina mix together for a while, but clearly the acceptably discreet waiting period is over. Nick Spitzer put some ideas in the NYT the other day, and of course the musical benefits have been mixes of their own. Not sure if I’ll burn it, though I probably will – I put together a 9/11 mix a few weeks after the towers fell, but I haven’t had the heart to play it since then (it ends with a mix of radio news from 9/11 cross-cut with Don Henley’s “In A New York Minute”) ; naturally, that was a far more personal event (and I it's ironic that I'm blogging this so close to its anniversary).

I invite the participation of any blog readers who wish to make suggestions - but there are some ground rules. First, no songs where the connection is only in the performers’ names (e.g., no Katrina and the Waves or Johnny and the Hurricanes). Second, no songs where the connection is only in the title (e.g., no Dylan’s “Hurricane” which is about a boxer or Steve Goodman’s railroad song, “City of New Orleans”). Third, no songs just because the performer is New Orleans-based. You could put together a hefty stack of CDs doing just that. That includes songs selected just because they’re Zydeco or second line or Dixieland etc.

Fourth – and this is a little tricky – songs that use floods or heavy rains as metaphor can be used; without trivializing the devastating actual effects of Katrina, great storms and floods make a strong symbolic impact that artists can use evocatively. Here I’m thinking of songs like Springsteen’s “Lost in the Flood” and Jackson Browne’s “Before The Deluge”. Maybe even Dylan’s “Mississippi” for its newly resonant lines,

Well, the emptiness is endless, cold as the clay
You can always come back, but you can't come back all the way
Only one thing I did wrong
Stayed in Mississippi a day too long.

My starter list also includes songs which others (such as Spitzer) have mentioned - including my own previous note on Randy Newman’s “Louisiana, 1927” - like Memphis Minnie’s “When the Levee Breaks” (not Zep’s; I prefer her performance in this context) and Fats Domino’s “Walkin’ to New Orleans”. I’d also add Tom Waits’ “I Wish I Was In New Orleans” which has a dreamy tone underneath its sweet sentimentality. There are plenty of songs about New Orleans; that’s my favorite. Oh, and I’ll definitely add some classic New Orleans jazz – maybe Louis Armstrong’s “Basin Street Blues” and King Oliver’s “Canal Street Blues”, both named for addresses in New Orleans.

For storm and flood songs, there’s Johnny Cash with “Five Feet High and Rising” and the Chad Mitchell Trio’s song about the Galveston flood, “Mighty Day” (and forget about “A Mighty Wind” – not the right tone). Maybe Dr. John’s cover of Fats Domino’s “Let The Four Winds Blow”? Then there’s Tina Turner’s “I Can’t Stand The Rain” or maybe the Bill Black Combo’s instrumental version of “Stormy Weather.

Thinking about the horrendous impact, I may also include the Paul Simon/Ladysmith “Homeless” or the Neville Brothers’ cover of “A Change Is Gonna’ Come”; there have also been several relatively recent takes on Stephen Foster’s “Hard Times” – I like Dylan’s best. Then there’s Ray Charles’ doubly meaningful, “Drown In My Own Tears”.

An uplifting closer would also be nice – maybe the Blind Boys of Alabama's version of Stevie Wonder's "Higher Ground" or Ben Harper's "I'll Rise"?

There are plenty more, for sure. A friend at work suggested The Pretenders’ “My City Was Gone” and Creedence’s “Who’ll Stop The Rain?” ; someone else suggested Judy Henske's "Wade In The Water"...as I said before, suggestions are welcome; I’ll post a burn list when I put it all together.

A Minor Inconvenience

There's been a lot of blog "comment spam" lately - comments which have no purpose but to publicize the spammer's unrelated commercial site. I've deleted more than a few over the past week or two, and it's getting annoying.

To manage this, Blogger has added a "word verification" option to Comment posts. This will simply ask the commenter to copy a word, which automated spam programs can't manage to do - you may have encountered this sort of security before on sites like Ticketmaster. I've decided to implement this feature to see if it's effective. Meanwhile, I apologize to any real commenters for the minor additional effort this adds to posting.

Thanks!

Tuning In

There many ways I find out about artists I haven’t heard before (or heard but never really listened to). There’s the radio, for one. My daily commute runs about an hour each way. A couple of friends have suggested that I listen to books on tape, but I prefer to tune into my favorite radio stations (WFUV and WBGO); one plays a wide variety of freewheeling folk, world, alt.country, and mostly indie rock/pop while the other is dedicated to jazz. Both play a mix of old, current, and new artists – and I get to hear plenty of new – to me – sounds. Another way is through friends’ recommendations (I’ve even gotten some through comments on this blog). Then there’s the New York Public Library (NYPL), about which I’ll post a separate entry, and there’s the “people who ordered this also ordered that” and other recommendation systems on sites like Amazon or the “other music like this” type categorization on AMG. And of course, pure serendipity, like what’s playing over the speakers at a music store, which is how I first discovered Ladysmith Black Mambazo.

Here’s a couple of recent new musical encounters. I’m a fan of the small but great output of the late Dave Carter and Tracy Grammer, particularly the Tanglewood Tree and Drum Hat Buddha sets (highly recommended to fans of acoustic folk-style duos – Carter was a terrific songwriter). On Amazon, I noticed that people who liked them also liked another duo, The Handsome Family. I checked the NYPL’s online catalog, and reserved a copy of In The Air. Result? This time, the recommendation worked. The Handsome Family is a fascinating couple (Brett and Rennie Sparks), whom some have niched as “alt.country gothic”. She writes the lyrics, he writes the music and they both perform the songs (although he does the lion’s share of the actual singing/playing) in arrangements ranging from spare acoustic to full-blown backings. Their primary inspiration is Appalachian murder ballads, and the songs include numbers about murder and suicide – but the lyrics are both evocative of the past and psychologically astute, tightly written with compelling imagery. I’ll certainly be picking up some of their other recordings.

A week or two ago, a friend of mine at work who’s the drummer in an indy band that calls itself Mr. Neutron (think Dick Dale meets They Might Be Giants at the Fountains of Wayne for a blues jam) loaned me a two CD set of favorite tracks of 2004 put together by another band member. Several of the tracks were by bands/musicians I’m familiar with, but there was new material for my ears as well. Among other things, the set confirmed my opinion that Eric Clapton does not do Robert Johnson particularly well. No edge. It also reinforced my enjoyment of “Wheels” by Cake. How could you not love a hooky poppy song that has lyrics like:

In a seedy karaoke bar
By the banks of the mighty Bosphorus
Is a Japanese man in a business suit
Singing 'Smoke Gets in Your Eyes'
And the muscular cyborg German dudes
Dance with sexy French Canadians
While the overweight Americans
Wear their patriotic jumpsuits

But the really pleasant surprise for me was a two man band that calls themselves “The Black Keys” whom I hadn’t heard before. The name sounds like “The White Stripes”, right? Well, there are analogies for sure. Here’s a guitar/drum combo from Akron that plays raw, punchy, short pieces hacked out of blues/garage/punk roots. Differences? For one, the drummer is very solid. Now, I like The White Stripes, particularly Elephant, and certainly don’t mean to put them down. Jack White is a great performer and a better songwriter than the Keys. But – to put it in perspective – if anyone were to do a contemporary Robert Johnson set, I’d urge the Black Keys to take a shot at it. This is a band I’ll definitely be listening to in the future – so thank you, Damien Fanelli!

Finally, an instance of pure serendipity. Last night Mrs. DJStan and I watched a Katrina benefit on the tube ("Shelter From The Storm") that included people like Sheryl Crowe and Dr. John (who played a beautiful elegaic version of Fats Domino's "Walkin' To New Orleans"). One of the artists was Kanye West, who did a choir-backed rendition of his own "Jesus Walks". We were both knocked out by both the song and the powerful performance. I've read about West, who hit it big as a solo act in the last two years, but hadn't really listened to him. Now I will.

Workin' On A Building

Just as a follow-up note, we made some donations over the weekend, and want to encourage those who can to do likewise. Our main donee was Habitat for Humanity; building housing for poor and working-class families is an essential task both for evacuees who want to return and those who will settle elsewhere. Habitat has the structure and know-how to do this well.

We also made a donation to Planned Parenthood. Non-governmental organizations in New Orleans will also have to recover to be able to do their work and their branches elsewhere will be taxed by the impoverished evacuees. It goes without saying that most of the non-conservative, non-faith-based groups will receive little or no government support, and must rely on the public for help. The assistance they render to those who need it - whether they're still in New Orleans or living as refugees in Texas or elsewhere - needs to be supported during the rebuilding days that lie ahead.

Louisiana

When the levees first broke, I thought of posting a virtual mix here in the blog – songs about hurricanes and floods or songs using floods as metaphor and/or songs about New Orleans – and inviting commenters to participate. But as things moved inexorably from natural disaster to full-blown human catastrophe, it just didn't seem appropriate; not now, any way. Mrs. DJStan and I often talked about visiting New Orleans, but somehow never got around to it. Now there's doubt that this city and its people, one of the great wellsprings of American music, will – or even should be – rebuilt, and there's little question in my mind that even a reconstructed New Orleans will never be the same as it was before the deluge.

Meanwhile, hordes of people are suffering on a scale undreamt of in this country in this century. Here's a Red Cross link for donations. I'll certainly be making what contribution I can to the city of Louis Armstrong, King Oliver, Sidney Bechet, Dr. John, Professor Longhair, Irma Thomas, the Neville Brothers, the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, Fats Domino, and so many others to whom we owe so much. I urge any readers to do the same.

The one song that does keep running through my mind is Randy Newman's Lousiana:

What has happened down here is the winds have changed
Clouds roll in from the north and it started to rain
Rained real hard and it rained for a real long time
Six feet of water in the streets of Evangeline

The river rose all day
The river rose all night
Some people got lost in the flood
Some people got away alright
The river have busted through clear down to Plaquemines
Six feet of water in the streets of Evangeline

Louisiana, Louisiana
They're tryin' to wash us away
They're tryin' to wash us away
Louisiana, Louisiana
They're tryin' to wash us away
They're tryin' to wash us away

One Play Wonders

As regular readers of this blog may have gathered, I have a large music collection, and I keep adding to it on a pretty regular basis. I'm no Joe Bussard (see "Stacks of Wax"), whose life revolves around collecting 78's (I watched the Desperate Man Blues documentary, btw, and it was fascinating; he's an overbearing, opinionated, and strangely charming man who absolutely loves the music he collects), but I love music, and expect to continue acquiring it.

That said, with a large inventory and new additions coming in, even though I listen regularly, there are some CD's which I played once and will never get back to again. Oh, I may grab one of them for a particular track to add to a mix, but a beginning-to-end listening session will never take place again for some percentage of the collection. The rest are like flowers – perennials and annuals, say. For example, today I'm listening to Irish Songs, one of many collections of John McComack recordings from the early 20th century. My father loved his voice – the archetypal Irish tenor - and I do, too, especially when he's singing the sentimentalized music hall Irish songs of his era (songs like "'Tis An Irish Girl I Love" or "The Green Isle of Erin"). Every now and then, I have a specific yen for McCormack's sweetness, remarkable high range, and antique repertoire, and trot out this collection.

This week I picked up two CDs - the Kronos Quartet's Caravan and Canto by Los Super Seven; I listened to both at work this week, and enjoyed them. But every time I finish listening to something new, one thing I consider is if I think I'll ever listen to it again once I put it in the stacks.

Listening to Kronos is as much an intellectual exercise for me as it is an aesthetic one, perhaps because as a violinist who played in a HS string quartet, I'm always interested in the arrangements, technique, etc. as much as I am in the qualities of the music itself. The Caravan CD is a free-ranging music set, with music from Eastern Europe, Portugal, California (a Terry Riley piece) and even a take on Dick Dale's version of "Misirlou" ; it includes a variety of other musicians, and integrates them well with the string quartet itself. I liked it, and may listen to it again. But I'm not sure. I have several Kronos recordings, and I do appreciate them and what they do – but at best they're biannuals (some of their Phillip Glass recordings get played when I go on a Minimalist bender). I'll be checking out sets of Monk and Bill Evans adaptations they put out a few years ago; if they work, they may get more regular play. But Caravan may turn out to be a one play wonder.

The Canto CD, otoh, is one I know I'll go back to. Right off the bat, there's a David Hidalgo song, "Teresa", about the saint/roses/desert/needs, that just grabs me. Between the lyric, the plaintiveness of Hidalgo's voice (I'm a big Los Lobos fan, incidentally), and the Alberto Salas' piano-over-staccato-Latin-rhythm arrangement, there's something I find irresistible about it. When the track first played, I repeated it 4 or 5 times, and now I've got it set as my wake-up music. The rest of the set, which is a mix Latin American musical styles, from Mexico to Brazil to Cuba (and not neglecting East LA) features artists like Caetano Veloso and Raul Malo, along with Super Seven regulars Hidalgo, Cesar Rosas, and Rick Trevino; I expect this one to become a perennial (the original Super Seven disc already is).

As a corollary, I don't know why it's so hard to get rid of records you'll never listen to again – or books you know you won't be rereading – but it is. Maybe it's the way they look on the shelves (one reason I haven't gone to the I-Pod side), maybe it's the fact that they seem to be part of myself in a way that other possessions aren't (to me), maybe it's just what Buddha called "attachment", the fundamental source of suffering, maybe it's just the vagrant thought that one day in a certain mood I may want to rehear the disc or reread the book. It’s hard to say, but there they are and - for the most part - there they'll stay.