Married to the Music

I was thinking this weekend about jazz artists who are married to other jazz artists, some even performing together in the same band. Cleo Laine and John Dankworth, Ella Fitzgerald and Ray Brown (briefly), Toshiko Akiyoshi and Lew Tabackin (there's a great crossword puzzle solution for you) -- but beginning in the '70s, Flora Purim and Airto was the couple that seemed to be everywhere. Flora worked with Chick Corea in various formats, and Airto was the go-to percussionist for just about everybody. Flora's album "Butterfly Dreams" is certainly of its era (the synthesizer doesn't wear well to my ears), and Airto's is kinda all over the map, stylistically. Still, both introduced a new way of hearing Brazilian music, and for my money, Flora's version of "Dindi" is definitive.

Ack, It's the Radio

I loved the radio growing up; I usually had my transistor radio permanently attached to my ear. Later, during the glory days of cool free-form FM radio, I still listened to the radio by the hour, even though I'd begun to develop a pretty sizable record collection. So you'd think that after the tape player in my car died (I know, I know -- my car came equipped with the very last cassette deck ever made), I'd still be able to enjoy spending time with my old friend, the radio. Uhh, no. I realize it's because I'm old and cranky (you kids get off my lawn!), but other than KING and KPLU, I'm hard pressed to find anything decent out there. CBC? Their format change pretty much leaves me cold. I'm lucky to be able to pick up KSER and KSVR when the wind blows just right.
But with all my carping, sometimes I do hear something I really enjoy. Latest is the 2010 album by Laura Veirs called "July Flame". Laura divides her time between Seattle and Portland, and she's got a great, 'unschooled' voice, quirky enjoyable songs, and a sympathetic partner in producer Tucker Martime. The song "Summer Is the Champion" really stood out amongst the radio dreck, so I guess there's still hope!

Kate Rusby

Kate Rusby sings a lot of trad British folk, arranged very tastefully (no slamming your jars of ale on the table!) but they're sensitively performed. There's something in Kate's voice that hints at melancholy, even thought she has a bright, high tone. "Under the Stars" (2004), and "Little Lights" (2001) were the 2 CDs that introduced me to Kate; if you like older LPs like the two Silly Sisters albums featuring Maddy Prior and June Tabor, I think you'd enjoy Kate.

Sundays, Bloody Sundays

This side of the pond, the Smiths made a minor ripple, but in Old Blighty, they influenced a lot of bands, including the Sundays. Like the Smiths, the lyrics hint at cynicism veiled in humor, and the chiming guitar style of Johnny Marr gets a wink and a nod in the Sundays. Harriet Wheeler's voice is school-girl clever, and when I listen to the Sundays, I feel like it's fall and I'm headed off to campus -- even though they came along long after I'd graduated. But there's such of sense of fresh possibilities, it's like the sound of opportunity. "Reading, Writing and Arithmetic" is probably their best, but the others grow on you, and the version of "Wild Horses" on "Blind" beats the Stones for me.

Bells!

Nothing sounds like Ebenezer Scrooge in full post-ghost attitude but church bells. Some sound like crystalline rippling, others like bellowing farm animals. I vaguely recall a Dorothy Sayers mystery ("The Nine Tailors") where a good portion of the plot revolved around bell-ringing. I was surprised to learn that there's a mathematical precision to bell-ringing patterns, or 'changes' -- almost like 12-tone serialism, where a note cannot be played twice until all other 12 notes have been played. Serialism never worked for me, but I sure do love the bells.

That Whole Music Writing Thing

Writing about music is harder than I thought, as I discovered when I started this blog. I want to keep working at it and get better, and some recent books of music writing that have inspired me are pictured here. I enjoyed "The Rest Is Noise" by Alex Ross (and his most recent book, "Listen to This") because of his catholic tastes (no, not the church) -- he can write about Mozart or Bjork or Radiohead or Schubert without being stuffy or condescending (or lost!)

The late Robert Palmer (no, not the "Addicted to Love" guy, the other late Robert Palmer) was a great champion for the blues as he got older (you MUST see the film "Deep Blues"), and he helped get backwater geniuses like RL Burnside discovered in a big way. There's a piece in his book about Led Zeppelin, and I was curious how he would handle some of the misappropriations that were attributed to some of their early work. He doesn't defend it, but he does point out that in the history of the blues, claiming something 'borrowed' as your own is all too common.

When I want to get the pure, unadulterated stuff, I go back to Lester Bangs (sadly, even later that the 2 Robert Palmers). Lester was played as the gruff mentor in "Almost Famous", Cameron Crowe's love letter to the rock music he grew up with, and when I read him now, I still picture him the way Philip Seymour Hoffman played him (sorry, Lester, I can hear you spinning right now.) Lester brought so much passion to his writing, and he gave critical nods early on to performers like Iggy Pop that less visionary critics dismissed as dumb. There's a Chuck Klosterman book where he mentions the rock musician who derided the Village Voice reviewer for "just writing about his mail" -- meaning the promotional CDs music critics are deluged with. Even if Lester was sometimes guilty of writing about his mail, he always brought a fierce intelligence to his work that I've always admired.

Another icy blast, and the end of music?

When the weather is icy-cold, the Cocteau Twins also make frequent appearances in the CD player, because this music is as far removed from "the blues" as you get (okay, maybe Sibelius is just a bit farther...). There's a glacial sheen to the sound, and the vocals are in some invented gibberish (no, really. She just sings nonsense syllables). The tunes are certainly memorable, but it's that icy remove that makes it such vital winter listening for me.

My Bloody Valentine takes part of the Cocteau Twins sound and exaggerates it even more. Vocals are buried in the mix, the guitars are frequently distorted beyond recognition, and there are often noises that sound like the recording equipment is malfunctioning. I let someone borrow my copy once and they returned it saying "It's the end of music as we know it" --- and he meant that in a bad way! I enjoy it because it sounds to me like pop music turned inside-out; the stuff we expect to be in the foreground isn't. Some people have called this the ultimate guitar album, but I think that's a little misleading, because anyone looking to hear "guitar" is going to be very confused. But it really is a pop album, not some industrial noise; dare I say, it's even beautiful.