Brooklyn Dodger fans weren't the only ones heartbroken when their beloved bums moved to Los Angeles. An entire L.A. neighborhood, Chávez Ravine, had to be sacrificed to make way for the new Dodger stadium. Despite the album title, Ry Cooder's Cinemascopic new album is as much about a lost time-the 1950's-as it is about a lost Mexican-American neighborhood known as Chávez Ravine.
A trademark dispute with National Periodic Publications (D.C. Comics) over the original cover art postponed the release of this record. Because Metropolis, Illinois is officially recognized by D.C. Comics as “the home of Superman,” Mr. Stevens references it in the lyrics and had the cover art show the man of steel flying in front of Chicago’s John Hancock Tower. D.C. Comics sued, in what definitely gets the company “dick move of the musical year” award from me. The legal problems delayed the release of the album. While it was originally in the November “In Heavy Rotation,” I’ve moved it here because of the delay.
Having a good music dealer is as important as having a great accountant who knows all the funky tax loopholes, because both can steer you down the right path and save you money. Lets get real here for a minute: even if you were to spend months on end reading all the music rags out there, there's bound to be a lot of albums that'll fly well below your well-heeled radar. Add to that the sheer volume of new music coming down the pipe, and you can be forgiven for not knowing what's the latest album that'll blow your mind.
How long have I been waiting for a good-sounding version of this mysterious and magical music? Since way back before I knew anything about Good Sound as we formally know it, that's for sure!
Death Cab For Cutie's Benjamin Gibbard probably reads “Romeo and Juliet” as light comedy. Calling him a “hopeless romantic” would be an understatement of Grand Canyon-like proportions. If Bryan Ferry wears his heart on his sleeve, Gibbard wears it on a Times Square billboard with a seriousness I can't recall hearing expressed outside of opera.
“If you follow every dream, you might get lost,” Neil Young admonishes lovingly on “The Painter,” the opener to his new, excruciatingly personal album—his first since Old Ways to be recorded in Nashville. Young isn’t advising against following every dream, just to be prepared for unexpected turns in the road and to take it as it comes.
For sound adventurers in the early days of stereo, no one’s musical arrangements fit the bill like Esquivel’s. They make Enoch Light’s close-miked percussive stuff on Command sound like punk-rock.
Analogue Productions’ third series of limited edition 45rpm 180 gram “twofers” will surely be as popular as the first two sets, with key titles selling out and fetching big bucks on the used market. The musically well-balanced offerings from the Riverside, Pablo and Prestige catalogs controlled by Fantasy Records include The Tony Bennett Bill Evans Album, Bill Evans’ How My Heart Sings and Interplay, Miles Davis’s Workin’ and many other long sought after jazz and blues titles.
Daniel Lanois begins this instrumental excursion with a great wash of flanged psychedelic backwash, ribbed with pedal steel guitar in an upward thrust of musical birth that oozes from the speakers like sonic Cool-Whip.
For some reason, audio enthusiasts have a need to latch onto female vocalists with a passion that borders on the fanatical. Once they find her, they never let go. The careers of Amanda McBroom, Jennifer Warnes, Diana Krall and Janis Ian have all benefited from this compulsive/obsessive behavior. I have nothing against it. I just find it fascinating.
Sad but true: a generation of white Americans first came to know the blues—a black American art form—by hearing it played second-hand thanks to the dedication of die-hard British blues enthusiasts like Long John Baldry, John Mayall, Eric Clapton, and of course, Fleetwood Mac’s Peter Green. The list goes on.
These ten acoustic tunes cut by Buddy Guy on 6 and 12 string guitar, and Junior Wells on harmonica back in 1981 during a visit to Sysmo Studios in Paris, France states the case for the acoustic blues as well as any album I can think of, but if you’re not into the genre, don’t expect this reissue to pull you around. Well, take that back: the sound may drag you in.
The problem with “greatest hits” packages issued by (or for) by rock artists who flourished during the golden age of album artistry (1967-1991 give or take a few) is that they inevitably shortchange the musician and the music-not to mention the fans.
As with William Shatner's infamous cover of “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds,” Paul Anka's big band cover of Nirvana's “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was not meant to be a goof. However, unlike Shatner's mangling, Anka pulls it off brilliantly, thanks in part to the suave, sensitive arrangements, but mostly because the Vegas veteran clearly takes the tunes seriously and sees their intrinsic musical and lyrical merit. Whoever did the A&R work made inspired choices as the mix of tunes is eclectic and sometimes daring.
By the time Mind Games was issued in December of 1973, John Lennon had lost all semblance of musical and personal balance. Sad, but true. The looming Yoko on the horizon cover said it all. Yet the stunning title tune, with its wistful melody and “summing it all up” lyrics led many fans to believe the revolutionary Beatle had returned to greatness after the formless debacle that was Sometime in New York City, but alas, they were mostly wrong.