Former Kinks frontman Ray Davies’ fans are among the most fan-atic in rock. I found out the hard way when I dared to post a less than fawning review of an Irving Plaza show I attended last spring on a Kinks fan newsgroup that I joined.
The door to the Velvel Records reception area opened a good dozen times while I awaited Ray Davies' arrival. There was a constant stream of FedEx and UPS delivery men, visitors, and Velvel workers. Each time it opened it could have been for Davies, but I knew it wasn't, though the door opened toward where I was seated, blocking my view of the entrant.
With a click of the knob and a rush of air, the door opened one particular time and I knew immediately it was Raymond Douglas Davies' entrance. I would have bet a hundred bucks and I would have collected. What told me? The panache with which the door flew open? The “vibe?” I don't know. I just knew it was Ray, and it was.
In an indie-rock era saturated with smirky, slacker irony, the roots-rocker Ray La Montagne comes across as downright solemn. He and his group execute cleanly and almost reverentially, funk, blues, jazz and country, which La Montagne sings in a honey coated gruff voice that veers between Joe Cocker and Tim Hardin. The man is sincere and like Tim Hardin, he knows how to move three chord rounds.
Tony Bennett recorded a live album with Count Basie and his orchestra in Philadelphia that was issued in 1959 by Columbia Records (In Person! Tony Bennett, Count Basie and His Orchestra CS 8104 “6 eye”). In 1961 Peggy Lee released a live album on Capitol recorded at Basin Street East in New York City.
Produced, recorded and performed with love and respect for the “genius of soul,”-the artist for whom musical boundaries and genres had no meaning-this album of duets is nonetheless neither an important, nor an essential Ray Charles album. That doesn't mean it isn't an immensely pleasurable one, or one not worth owning and enjoying. It's just that there are a dozen or so Charles albums that should be in your collection before you buy this one. On the other hand, this isn't exactly a bad introduction if that's what you need. Do you really need one?
After a series of albums that tried too hard to advance the cause and so seemed self-consciously so, Paul Simon has produced his best since Graceland. The album title explains how he's managed. It celebrates the significant but demolishes it at the same time.
A reader forwarded a link to a story by Colette LaBouff published in The Morning News, "a magazine of essays, art, humor and culture" that I'm 100% certain you will enjoy reading. The publisher has generously granted us permission to provide the link.
"I’ve never gotten an email or letter along the lines of 'Dear Mikey: I took the plunge and bought a turntable. What a waste of money. Records sound terrible. You’re nuts.'"
Well, here's your first. Or a close approximation.