By Pico
The holiday season is still more than three weeks away but for record companies, the time is now. With early Christmas shopping soon upon us, the labels want to push records out the door and get the buzz generated in time to sway decisions for the gift givers. The where we come in, peeling away the hype and looking for the intrinsic goodness.
This collection of rock, RnB and blues are the just the kind of music the discerning baby boomer shopper might be looking for...
Elvis Costello National Ransom: Costello's new disc follows up the simple, organic country-folk of 2009's Secret, Profane And Sugarcane. The personnel (the Sugarcanes), including red-hot producer T-Bone Burnett, carries over but only a little of the music does. National Ransom, which also includes the Imposters as well as Vince Gill, Marc Ribot, Buddy Miller and Leon Russell on some tracks, swerves wildly from his vintage new wave Attractions days ("National Ransom") and Tin Alley pop ("Jimmie Standing In The Rain") to country ("That's Not The part Of Him You're Leaving") and yes, a little bit of of the gentle string music of Secret ("Dr. Watson, I Presume"). I'm surprised to not find a reggae song on here.
Now, a good many long-established artists have come to Burnett lately for a kickstart to their careers, but Costello's relationship with him goes way back: the two released a single in 1985 under the Coward Brothers moniker, and Burnett co-produced King Of America the following year. Costello was a T-Bone guy long before it was cool to be a T-bone guy. The stylistic change-ups suggest vanity genre exercises and a lack of focus, but that's not the case, here. Costello has been a musical chameleon his entire career, and let's face it, he's good at it.
With a great producer and great session players, the only remaining ingredient need to make this album a success are the songs themselves. Every one of Costello's sixteen new songs are winners—-every one of them. Some are better than others, naturally, but there's no filler here, and he remains one of the best pop songwriters of the last 35 years. The best of his songs tend to be the darker ones, like like the gorgeous “Stations Of The Cross" and “Church Underground," but each track has its own charms and some, like like the Cole Porter-esque “You Hung The Moon," seem as if they are classic covers you just hadn't heard before. “My Lovely Jezebel" is a Russell tune that Costello and Burnett provided the lyrics to, but it sounds like a Leon song all the way, with just the smoky honky-tonk blues strut that this cut demands.
Out today, this is a Costello record that even those who don't buy Costello records will want to pick up.
Buddy Guy Living Proof: Buddy Guy is a great, living blues legend who can still play guitar and sing as well as he's always have. But his albums of late have been inconsistent. In the case of his last album, Skin Deep (2008), all the guest appearances diluted that hard-driving Chicago electric blues sound, a sound of which he was one of the arcthitects. Living Proof cuts down the star guest appearances to only two tracks and for the remaining ten, we get the real, undiluted Buddy Guy, the one who rips up the joint at the top blues venues like his own southside Legends club. The autographical nature of most of the songs gives the record even more focus, something else he's lacked since 2001's Sweet Tea. Guy treats many of the cuts like “74 Years Young," “Thank Me Someday," and “Living Proof" as if he was being interviewed about his life.
“Where the Blues Begins" features Carlos Santana and that familiar relaxed Latin blues groove makes it more of a Santanas song than Guy's, although it's not a bad song. All the same, “Stay Around A Little Longer" is a duet with B.B. King, and the slow, gospel blues is more B.B.'s style. It seems every blues player who's achieved any fame at all has done a duet with King, but this one is special, because King is collaborating with someone who is roughly his contemporary, someone who actually started his career too early to be influenced by him, and who has been nearly as influential. The two trade spoken compliments toward the end of the song, which is kinda hokey, except for the fact it's between two giants and they mean it. King ends it by assuring Guy “when I'm pushing up daisies, don't forget: you're still my Buddy."
Living Proof, on the streets since October 25, is more my kind of Buddy.
Steve Lukather All's Well That Ends Well: This isn't Lukather's first solo record, but it's the first one he's recorded since he turned the lights off on the band he co-founded, Toto. Sure, the band since reunited for a European tour, but we've probably seen the last of any new Toto music. That makes Luke's records the closest thing to a continuation of that group's discography.
All's Well That Ends Well seems to accept that mantle. Yes, it rocks a little bit harder in spots ("Can't Look Back," “Flash In The Pan"), but the slick mix of rock, prog, RnB and fusion shoots for the same over-40 demographic, ignoring any developments in popular music since Toto's 80s heyday and instead refining and updating the old formula. Taken in that context, it's a pretty good rendering of that formula; Lukather still writes catchy songs even if they are derivative of someone else; “On My Way Home" for instance pays tribute to Steely Dan in a convincing fashion. Interspersed with love songs and self reflections are observations on the current state of affairs ("Watching The World" “Brody's") and his voice is still in fine form and in case you wondering, so are his guitar chops. He saves one instrumental, “Tumescent," for the end, but it comes off as a generic guitar-fusion tune.
It's real easy to make a call on this record: If you liked Toto, you'll like All's Well That Ends Well. If you didn't, move on.
Jamiroquai Rock Dust Light Star: Jason Kay has slowed down the pace of Jamiroquai new album releases, and Rock Dust Light Star, out November 1, is the group's first since Dynamite five years ago. Nothing has changed much with the music, and since this band has long ago perfected its style of acid-jazz and retro disco, there's no need to stray off the mission. Rock Dust Light Star does seems to touch on reggae just a bit more and there's a few Lenny Kravitz-styled rockers like “Hurtin'" and the title cut, but the winning template for shaking bell-bottomed booties remains intact. Though a consistently good record, there's no home run hitters like “Seven Days in Sunny June“ or “Just Another Story." Nonetheless, this one should please the faithful.
Tony Joe White The Shine: As a Louisiana-born singing and songwriting swamp pop legend, Tony Joe White is a guy we like a lot around here but never gotten around to singing his praises. His new album The Shine, released last September 26, gives us the perfect occasion to do so. The originator of hits like “Polk Salad Annie," “Rainy Night In Georgia," “Roosevelt and Ira Lee (Night of the Moccasin)" and Tina Turner's “Steamy Windows," has been on a bit of a roll the last ten years, even if too few people have noticed it. The Shine (out September 28) continues that artistic revival, and it's a record no one else could have made. Employing a small band that includes drums, bass, an occasional keyboardist and even a cellist, White handles all the guitars and harmonica.
Though there's electric instruments (White is often supplementing a soft, nylon string guitar with his trademark dirty and gritty electric guitar accompaniment), these sessions have all the intimacy of an unplugged club date. The recording does a fine job of separating the individual instruments and miking up White's battered, deep croon close; a good idea since he often doesn't get much more strident than a murmur. But White doesn't need to howl to get across his first and third person tales of travels, turns of fortunes and lost loves. Somewhat autobiographical at times, these White songs, like all his best songs, stay on the edge of consciousness long after the last notes are played. Rarely even reaching mid-tempo, these tracks reflect a man whose been around the block a few times, but has picked up some wisdom along the way and uses it to craft handmade songs that are frequently cover-worthy.
In an album full of memorable lines, there's one that stands out. In the slow, simmering RnB funk of “Tell Me Why, White coos, “It's all about the song, keeping it simple/gotta have passion, gotta have soul." That's the creed the Swamp Fox has lived by his whole career. It's the philosophy that he's sticking with strongly on The Shine.
The holiday season is still more than three weeks away but for record companies, the time is now. With early Christmas shopping soon upon us, the labels want to push records out the door and get the buzz generated in time to sway decisions for the gift givers. The where we come in, peeling away the hype and looking for the intrinsic goodness.
This collection of rock, RnB and blues are the just the kind of music the discerning baby boomer shopper might be looking for...
Elvis Costello National Ransom: Costello's new disc follows up the simple, organic country-folk of 2009's Secret, Profane And Sugarcane. The personnel (the Sugarcanes), including red-hot producer T-Bone Burnett, carries over but only a little of the music does. National Ransom, which also includes the Imposters as well as Vince Gill, Marc Ribot, Buddy Miller and Leon Russell on some tracks, swerves wildly from his vintage new wave Attractions days ("National Ransom") and Tin Alley pop ("Jimmie Standing In The Rain") to country ("That's Not The part Of Him You're Leaving") and yes, a little bit of of the gentle string music of Secret ("Dr. Watson, I Presume"). I'm surprised to not find a reggae song on here.
Now, a good many long-established artists have come to Burnett lately for a kickstart to their careers, but Costello's relationship with him goes way back: the two released a single in 1985 under the Coward Brothers moniker, and Burnett co-produced King Of America the following year. Costello was a T-Bone guy long before it was cool to be a T-bone guy. The stylistic change-ups suggest vanity genre exercises and a lack of focus, but that's not the case, here. Costello has been a musical chameleon his entire career, and let's face it, he's good at it.
With a great producer and great session players, the only remaining ingredient need to make this album a success are the songs themselves. Every one of Costello's sixteen new songs are winners—-every one of them. Some are better than others, naturally, but there's no filler here, and he remains one of the best pop songwriters of the last 35 years. The best of his songs tend to be the darker ones, like like the gorgeous “Stations Of The Cross" and “Church Underground," but each track has its own charms and some, like like the Cole Porter-esque “You Hung The Moon," seem as if they are classic covers you just hadn't heard before. “My Lovely Jezebel" is a Russell tune that Costello and Burnett provided the lyrics to, but it sounds like a Leon song all the way, with just the smoky honky-tonk blues strut that this cut demands.
Out today, this is a Costello record that even those who don't buy Costello records will want to pick up.
Buddy Guy Living Proof: Buddy Guy is a great, living blues legend who can still play guitar and sing as well as he's always have. But his albums of late have been inconsistent. In the case of his last album, Skin Deep (2008), all the guest appearances diluted that hard-driving Chicago electric blues sound, a sound of which he was one of the arcthitects. Living Proof cuts down the star guest appearances to only two tracks and for the remaining ten, we get the real, undiluted Buddy Guy, the one who rips up the joint at the top blues venues like his own southside Legends club. The autographical nature of most of the songs gives the record even more focus, something else he's lacked since 2001's Sweet Tea. Guy treats many of the cuts like “74 Years Young," “Thank Me Someday," and “Living Proof" as if he was being interviewed about his life.
“Where the Blues Begins" features Carlos Santana and that familiar relaxed Latin blues groove makes it more of a Santanas song than Guy's, although it's not a bad song. All the same, “Stay Around A Little Longer" is a duet with B.B. King, and the slow, gospel blues is more B.B.'s style. It seems every blues player who's achieved any fame at all has done a duet with King, but this one is special, because King is collaborating with someone who is roughly his contemporary, someone who actually started his career too early to be influenced by him, and who has been nearly as influential. The two trade spoken compliments toward the end of the song, which is kinda hokey, except for the fact it's between two giants and they mean it. King ends it by assuring Guy “when I'm pushing up daisies, don't forget: you're still my Buddy."
Living Proof, on the streets since October 25, is more my kind of Buddy.
Steve Lukather All's Well That Ends Well: This isn't Lukather's first solo record, but it's the first one he's recorded since he turned the lights off on the band he co-founded, Toto. Sure, the band since reunited for a European tour, but we've probably seen the last of any new Toto music. That makes Luke's records the closest thing to a continuation of that group's discography.
All's Well That Ends Well seems to accept that mantle. Yes, it rocks a little bit harder in spots ("Can't Look Back," “Flash In The Pan"), but the slick mix of rock, prog, RnB and fusion shoots for the same over-40 demographic, ignoring any developments in popular music since Toto's 80s heyday and instead refining and updating the old formula. Taken in that context, it's a pretty good rendering of that formula; Lukather still writes catchy songs even if they are derivative of someone else; “On My Way Home" for instance pays tribute to Steely Dan in a convincing fashion. Interspersed with love songs and self reflections are observations on the current state of affairs ("Watching The World" “Brody's") and his voice is still in fine form and in case you wondering, so are his guitar chops. He saves one instrumental, “Tumescent," for the end, but it comes off as a generic guitar-fusion tune.
It's real easy to make a call on this record: If you liked Toto, you'll like All's Well That Ends Well. If you didn't, move on.
Jamiroquai Rock Dust Light Star: Jason Kay has slowed down the pace of Jamiroquai new album releases, and Rock Dust Light Star, out November 1, is the group's first since Dynamite five years ago. Nothing has changed much with the music, and since this band has long ago perfected its style of acid-jazz and retro disco, there's no need to stray off the mission. Rock Dust Light Star does seems to touch on reggae just a bit more and there's a few Lenny Kravitz-styled rockers like “Hurtin'" and the title cut, but the winning template for shaking bell-bottomed booties remains intact. Though a consistently good record, there's no home run hitters like “Seven Days in Sunny June“ or “Just Another Story." Nonetheless, this one should please the faithful.
Tony Joe White The Shine: As a Louisiana-born singing and songwriting swamp pop legend, Tony Joe White is a guy we like a lot around here but never gotten around to singing his praises. His new album The Shine, released last September 26, gives us the perfect occasion to do so. The originator of hits like “Polk Salad Annie," “Rainy Night In Georgia," “Roosevelt and Ira Lee (Night of the Moccasin)" and Tina Turner's “Steamy Windows," has been on a bit of a roll the last ten years, even if too few people have noticed it. The Shine (out September 28) continues that artistic revival, and it's a record no one else could have made. Employing a small band that includes drums, bass, an occasional keyboardist and even a cellist, White handles all the guitars and harmonica.
Though there's electric instruments (White is often supplementing a soft, nylon string guitar with his trademark dirty and gritty electric guitar accompaniment), these sessions have all the intimacy of an unplugged club date. The recording does a fine job of separating the individual instruments and miking up White's battered, deep croon close; a good idea since he often doesn't get much more strident than a murmur. But White doesn't need to howl to get across his first and third person tales of travels, turns of fortunes and lost loves. Somewhat autobiographical at times, these White songs, like all his best songs, stay on the edge of consciousness long after the last notes are played. Rarely even reaching mid-tempo, these tracks reflect a man whose been around the block a few times, but has picked up some wisdom along the way and uses it to craft handmade songs that are frequently cover-worthy.
In an album full of memorable lines, there's one that stands out. In the slow, simmering RnB funk of “Tell Me Why, White coos, “It's all about the song, keeping it simple/gotta have passion, gotta have soul." That's the creed the Swamp Fox has lived by his whole career. It's the philosophy that he's sticking with strongly on The Shine.
