Ring of Feh

The other night, Mrs. DJStan and I (and friends) went to see a performance of "Ring of Fire", currently in previews on Broadway. We're inveterate theatregoers, and usually enjoy some aspect of just about everything we see. This case was an exception. I posted a reader's review on the NYT site, and have copied it here because after all, the play is a "tribute" to Johnny Cash's music (read "exploitation") - and this site is primarily about music.

Let me preface this by saying that I like Johnny Cash AND his music - and besides recommending the original himself, there's a pretty good tribute disc to Cash as songwriter ("Kindred Spirits") which demonstrates that given the right hands and voices, Cash's songs travel well. "Ring of Fire" shows how they can easily be made to sound like Up With People. Think Pat Boone covering Fats Domino (his version of "Ain't That A Shame" really is), and you've got a good idea of what this show is about.

Anyway, here's the review:

One act was enough to send us home. This jukebox musical has no feeling for country music in general or Johnny Cash in particular. Some reviewers here have compared it to a Branson, Mo. production or a theme park entertainment; these are on the mark. The music has been gelded and denatured into a generic mush without heart or soul.

The performers are willing, but while uniformly enthusiastic, there is nothing distinctive about any one of them, and little to differentiate the "characters" they portray. The best thing about the production is the clever use of a pair of rear-projection screens to set the scene with still (and occasionally moving) images - but it's too bad when the best thing you can say about a musical production has to do with the set.

This kind of show can work - for example, the Billy Joel musical, "Movin' Out", was a great pleasure. The music worked because as a composer Billy Joel always had one foot firmly planted on Broadway, the choreography by Twyla Tharp was sharp and inventive, the onstage band played with spirit and heart, and the lead dancers gave outstanding performances.

Nothing remotely similar could be said about "Ring of Fire", which fails on virtually every level. We've been regular on and off broadway theatregoers for many years; we virtually never leave the theatre before the end of the show. But in this case, we made an exception.

Incidentally, the NYT site allows other readers to rate reviews as "helpful" or not. There are currently 9 reviews - 4 unabashedly positive, 5 heavily negative (including mine). Curiously, the high "helpful" scores are for the positive ones, which leads me to conjecture that either (a) people just don't like negative reviews, regardless of accuracy or (b) the cast, crew, producers, and relatives of the production in question are registered with the NYT and vote accordingly (the most "helpful" reader review gets featured on the overview page for the production).

That's just a cynical surmise, mind you.

Let it snow, let it snow...

We're up in the Bronx, on the 19th floor of a highrise that's already standing on one of the highest points in NYC, with wrap-around views to the southeast, east, and north. When it snows the way it did yesterday, it's like looking at a giant snow shaker that contains a detailed replica of the city. It was a perfect day to be indoors, passing the time quietly (nothing was moving outside) with good books and a bottle of wine, and listening to a laid-back mostly jazz set - 5 discs on full random. Here's the mix:


1. Thelonious Monk Quartet with John Coltrane at Carnegie Hall. A long title for a great set, one of the "discoveries" of the last couple of years. This would have been a classic had it been issued when it was recorded; the recent unearthing makes it even more important. I'm not sure how much Trane took away from his short working time with Monk, but on this album he settles into Monk's groove and then stretches it out at one end while Monk nails it down at the other.


2. Charlie Parker with Strings: The Master Takes. Bird said this was one of his favorite recordings. It's loungy and over-arranged (think Hugh Hefner's idea of hip), but Parker brings such lyricism and invention to the standards that make up the set that he takes it to another plane entirely. It's as deceptively light as fine French pastry.


3. Oscar Peterson for Lovers. One of the Verve "for Lovers" series that compiles romantic tracks from sundry recordings. This one centers on the Peterson-Brown-Thigpen trio, and adds sit-ins from Herb Ellis, Clark Terry, Milt Jackson, and Bill Henderson (singing "I've Got A Crush on You"). Peterson's normally a little too Art Tatumish for me (I'm more Monk/Bud Powell/McCoy Tyner when it comes to piano), but this is tasty. Mrs. DjStan and I both like hanging out at bars; this would be a fine house band.


4. One Quiet Night - Pat Metheny. Metheny at his mellowest (which is close to total melt-down). This is a solo album, and Metheny plays a baritone guitar with a deep, resonant timbre. Some nice originals, and a surprisingly lovely cover of the old Gerry and the Pacemakers hit, "Ferry Cross the Mersey" (someone said the band's name is now "Gerry's Got A Pacemaker").

5. Mambo Sinuendo - Ry Cooder, Manuel Galban. See below. I'm just loving this one.

Hey Mambo!

Regular readers of this blog (I know you're out there!) will be familiar by now with my high regard for Ry Cooder, who is not just a master guitarist, but a master teacher who regularly exposes his audience to an extraordinary range of music. His work spans virtually all forms of American folk, blues, and popular music as well as taking in the wider world through collaborations with such musicians as Ali Farka Toure – and that’s not even considering the fine musical scores he has written for such movies as The Long Riders and Paris, Texas. As a verified Cooder fan, I usually buy whatever he records, because it’s almost always rewarding in a variety of ways.

One of his best-known efforts in bringing other people’s music to light was producing the Buena Vista Social Club disc, reigniting the careers of a fine group of aging Cuban musicians. On Mambo Sinuendo, he works with Buena Vista guitarist (and member of the popular 60’s Cuban group, Los Zafiros), Manuel Galban. When the set was released, for some obscure reason or other, I decided not to bother with it. Ry and Cuban music – he’d done that, right? Wrong.

I finally got around to Mambo Sinuendo this week, and have been kicking myself ever since for waiting. This is terrific music. It’s Latin-based, of course, with predominantly Mambo beats, but as is usual for Cooder, it’s a lot more. The basic sound, which Galban helped popularize in its original incarnation, is mid to late 50’s Latin crossed with Lounge Exotica. It features lots of percussion, sexy guitar lines, solid bass lines, occasional organ, and Esquivel-style sound effects (including some processed backup vocals) – there are even covers of “Patricia” and the 50’s ballad, “Secret Love”. Now add – courtesy of Cooder – lots of liquid slide guitar with delta and Hawaiian licks stretching the concept. The result is a highly entertaining set that holds up well to repeated listening.

The lesson for me is simple: write “trust Ry Cooder” on the blackboard 100 times.

Gentle Bluesman, Blues Gentleman

The Mississippi John Hurt disc I just ordered was a direct result of attending a tribute to his work, part of the annual New York City Guitar Festival. The small concert (at Merkin Hall near Lincoln Center, a nice venue for this type of event) featured old folkie Bill Morrissey, who has done a John Hurt cover album, and starred Jorma Kaukonen of Jefferson Airplane/Hot Tuna fame, working with (“accompanied by” is not accurate) Barry Mitterhoff. Also appearing were Brandon Ross, an interesting performer (and producer of artists like Cassandra Wilson), and the Jen Chapin Trio (I hate to say “coasting on her father’s rep”, but her group was not impressive).

The music of John Hurt is gently propulsive, a country-blues style that wraps a certain sweetness around its sometimes provocative and occasionally violent lyrics. It’s never cloying (even in a song like “Creole Belle”), and the unique 3-finger picking style he developed has that old-school ragtime strut running underneath it all. Bill Morrissey pointed out that only Mississippi John Hurt could write a perky song about an axe murder.

The story of Hurt’s brief rise (in the late 20’s), long disappearance into rural Mississippi, and rediscovery in the early 60’s during the resurging folk scene, is well known – and his renaissance was certainly deserved. His musical output wasn’t vast, but its style is unmistakable, and while not as influential as the equally small oeuvre of Robert Johnson, many folk guitarists owe part of their picking technique to him. Jorma, for example (I can call him “Jorma” because a guitar playing friend of mine goes regularly to one of his Fur Peace workshops), pointed out that he was far more influenced directly by the work of Rev. Gary Davis, but that when he paid more attention to Hurt’s music, found that he had been influenced by it without being conscious of it.

This was a fine concert over all. Morrissey is a skilled pro, with a real affinity for Hurt’s music (he also does a great impression of the old master), and Brandon Ross’ unusual interpretations brought out the modal quality of the songs. A group of adults and kids did a very charming version of “Creole Belle”, and the show concluded with a long set by Kaukonen and Mitterhoff (who reminds me of David Bromberg in his ability to pick up any stringed instrument and make it sing) which rambled a bit and went off on a few musical tangents (concluding with Jorma’s JA signature piece, “Embryonic Journey”), but which was never boring and was occasionally brilliant.

If you’ve never heard Mississippi John Hurt, pick up a set. Don’t bother with the Avalon Blues tribute album; go for his Okeh original recordings (also titled Avalon Blues), the complete studio recordings, or the live set he did in the 60’s (under the misleading title of The Best of Mississippi John Hurt), when his playing was as strong as ever, and his gentle, soulful voice reached right into your heart.

Over The Top, Boys!

There’s something about the overstuffed sound of heavy pop that I just love – when it works well. This week I’ve been listening to a lot of Jeff Lynne stuff. Well, it actually started with an old Moody Blues favorite, To Our Children’s Children’s Children. I remember it well – it was in heavy rotation at my Army Reserve summer bivouac (c.1970) up in Camp Drum in lovely Watertown, NY (best known for its immense annual lake effect snowfall and its proximity to the 1,000 islands). This was one of the Moody’s major concept albums, with a pompous introduction and songs like “Traveling Eternity Road”. Back in the day, it was one of a string of “you gotta hear this with headphones!” Moody Blues albums, most of which also featured double-size cover art with surreal roots.

Then it was on to Jeff Lynne, beginning with Armchair Theatre, a solo effort, and proceeding through two ELO sets (Out of the Blue and Eldorado), and concluding with George Harrison’s last release which Lynne co-produced, the charming Brainwashed (with tracks that include George singing Harold Arlen’s standard, “The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea” while accompanying himself on ukulele).

Sometimes listening to a lot of Lynne is like eating too much whipped cream cake – an overindulgence in excess – but his productions are, at their best, inventive, melodic, and deeply textured. Songs like “Jungle”, “Can’t Get It Out of My Head”, “Sweet Talkin’ Woman” and “Standin’ in the Rain” are pure fun for me; they make me smile – and that’s a fine thing in itself.

During this run I also listened to a best-of compilation of Manfred Mann and the Earth Band tracks, a band which applied a Lynne-like treatment to a number of songs, and gets great mileage out of what amount to total re-imaginings of Springsteen’s “Blinded by the Light” and “For You”, and Dylan’s “You Angel You”. Lots of synths, lots of overdubs, lots of laughs. It was that kind of week.

Then a copy of Mississippi John Hurt’s original Okeh recordings (“Avalon Blues”) arrived in the mail, and the synths faded away...