Album Reviews

The Blue Note reissue explosion continues with these attractively packaged XRCD24s from Audio Wave. We’ve got two current purveyors of Blue Notes: Music Matters and Analogue Productions, each having gained access to different catalog titles.

MP3s spread “virally.” Large corporate interests didn’t push them. Vinyl is resurgent for the same reason. It’s a ground up movement. Construct that way and you have a strong foundation for a long-lasting building. That’s what gives hope for vinyl’s long term growth and sustainability.

I don't what Rudy Van Gelder was thinking or doing when he recorded the opening tune "Zoltan," by Woody Shaw who's on trumpet here. Rudy's got Elvin Jones' drum kit mixed way up front in the right channel and he's positively nailed Jones' muscular cymbal sound. And he's got Young's Hammond B-3 appearing three-dimensionally well-focused and forward of a line between the speakers. That's unusual for Rudy. He gets great presence from Shaw's trumpet in the left channel and Joe Henderson's tenor in the right.

They’ve been out of commission for 22 years, but you’d never know it listening to Mission of Burma’s powerful, bracingly-fresh, time-warp of a post-punk/art-rocking noise assault, recorded last year. It sounds more like someone lowered the stylus on a record that’s been spinning silently for decades than the premier effort of a re-formed trio of middle- aged geezers who sound as youthfully exuberant as they did in 1979.

Hard to believe, but the legendary Rastapunkspeedmetal band Bad Brains began life in the late 1970’s as a Washington, D.C. based jazz/funk group called Mind Power. Then one of them heard The Sex Pistols’ Never Mind the Bollocks and the first black punk-rock group was born. You’ll hear the influence of The Clash and maybe The Stooges, but these guys invented their own sound, adding a fluidity and precision to the genre’s usual breakneck speed that no other band that I’ve heard managed to duplicate. The Sex Pistols may have inspired them, but Bad Brains demonstrated punk’s micro-groove musical possibilities because they could really play.

Deerhunter opens Microcastle with a Pink Floyd-like grand musical flourish taken at midtempo lysergic trail speed. The floating, vibrating textures give way to an insistent, deliberate, Wire-like beat that the group rides for a while before switching to dream-like reverie resplendent of Eno’s ambient projects merged with moodiness the late Syd Barrett might be proud to call his own.