|
 It’s
All Here
By
David Greenberger
Yo
La Tengo
Prisoners
of Love (Matador)
Yo La Tengo have been re cording for 20 years if you include
this two-disc anthology covering 1985 through 2003. The album
title is apt, as Yo La Tengo are all about love, both romantic
love as celebrated in lyric and melody, and also the giddy,
jaw-dropping love of music. The latter can be summed up in
passages from two songs among the 26 included on this set.
At the 1:52 mark in “Tom Courtenay,” Georgia Hubley stops
drumming. Ira Kaplan continues slashing away on his guitar
and singing, with James McNew letting a bass note ring out.
At 1:56, James helps delineate a change in the chordal structure
with one new note. Then, at 1:59, Georgia comes crashing back
in with an exuberant fill worthy of Charlie Watts. On “The
Summer,” the song’s quiet bearing is built around a pulsing
acoustic guitar. As it moves between a pair of chords that
lay out its character in the opening bars, the microphone
unblinkingly picks up the squeaking of fingers sliding to
reposition themselves on the guitar neck. Those two examples
are among scores, and it’s a list that differs as wildly as
the identities of the band’s fans. Those drum hits come with
an excitement that makes it seem that the seven-second wait
was an eternity and Hubley couldn’t wait to get back on board,
doing so with the practiced flair of a trainhopper boarding
a moving freight car. The squeaks, which parallel the foreground
movement of the song and can therefore be invisible in plain
sight, capture an immediacy and presence.
They’ve also created some of the most stunningly forceful
grooves of the past hundred years. “From a Motel 6” is utterly
seductive as near-whispered vocals float atop the world’s
friendliest fuzz-bass sound ever created, drums and guitar
all conspiring to imitate the natural rhythms of the human
body. In the flush of full health, this is the musical equivalent
of all the body’s organs working in concert. “You Can Have
It All” builds the propulsion out of interlocked backing vocals
and doubled percussion tracks. The entrance of a cello for
the solo can make strong men weep. The song is transcendent
because it is the sound of truly having it all. Listen
to this song in the morning and there’s no limit to what you
can accomplish.
Two discs and a third of outtakes and rarities. For those
already well-stocked with Yo La Tengo music, revisiting is
an utter delight. For those with a deficit in the “Y” section
of their library, this is a perfect place to start. Then you’ll
want to have it all. And you can.
 Shelby
Lynne
Suit
Yourself (Capitol)
Just like its title, Shelby Lynne’s fourth album in five years
is casual and inviting. It’s also her most assured, because
she doesn’t sound as if she has anything to prove. And even
though its music is the most easygoing of any recent Lynne
album, her lyrics are tough-minded, giving the subtly textured
and adult “Suit Yourself” unusual tension.
Based on demos laid down in Lynne’s California home, rounded
out by tracks recorded at the studio of engineer-bassist Brian
“Brain” Harrison, “Suit Yourself” covers pop, blues and country,
all genres in which Lynne is comfortable. Oh, yes; soul, too.
Alabama native Lynne evokes a bayou Aretha on the stunning
“I Cry Everyday,” cuts like a razor on the metaphor-rich,
provocative “You’re the Man,” and puts nouveau-blues chanteuse
Norah Jones in her place on “Sleep.”
The music is rich (count on that when Benmont Tench contributes
keyboards), the ambience organic; Tony Joe White contributes
his swamp-fox baritone to a few tunes, and Harrison allowed
the chirps some local crickets laid down during the sessions
to stay on the record. The topics include love (“Iced Tea”),
disdain (“You Don’t Have a Heart”), pride (the pretty pop
of “I Won’t Be Alone”) and sensuality. One of the strongest
cuts is the 12th track, cleverly called “Track 12.” It’s actually
a long, jamming version of White’s “Rainy Night in Georgia,”
a hit way back when for Brook Benton. You don’t want it to
end. You could say the same for the CD overall. Lynne has
never sounded more confident or sultry.
—Carlo
Wolff
Graham
Parker and The Figgs
Songs
of No Consequence (Bloodshot)
It’s just shy of 30 years since the release of Graham Parker’s
Howling Wind, and his boiling social outrage is still
bubbling and steaming. He’s been on more labels than most
people can name; Songs of No Consequence marks his
second on the feisty Bloodshot from Chicago. It seems a good
match: He’s clearly been able to enjoy not having to pack
his bags yet again, instead settling in for one of his best
studio outings since his glory days with the Rumour. This
is due in no small part to his teaming up with the Figgs.
He toured with them in 1996, which resulted in the live disc
The Last Rock ‘n’ Roll Tour, and Pete Donnelly was
an important presence on Deep Cut to Nowhere in 2001.
Parker has created such an identifiable catalog of songs that
just a cursory look at the new track list yields a range of
such Parkerisms as “Suck ‘n’ Blow,” “There’s Nothing on the
Radio,” and “Vanity Press.” Here, the titles became a hurdle
that he and the band clear every time. “Dislocated Life” is
equal to anything on Squeezing Out Sparks. This song
is also a perfect look at what makes the Figgs such an enduring
power, as Donnelly’s looping bass lines dance around Pete
Hayes’ drums and Mike Gent creates a solo that’s at once anthemic
and street-level scruffy. The fact that they’re a real band
with their own history adds a continuity to this set that
elevates it beyond being just another new batch of Parker
songs.
—David
Greenberger
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