|
These
Are the Days
The
The
45
RPM: The Singles of The The
(Epic/Legacy)
45
RPM provides a fine, two-decade overview of the work of
Matt Johnson, one of the more insightful and incisive songwriters
of the postpunk era, who has made records with a variety of
excellent bands under his difficult-to-use-properly-in-a-sentence
The The moniker. The contents of this new album may come as
a something of a surprise to devoted fans of Soul Mining,
an early ’80s masterpiece and the most widely played The The
album on this side of the big salty, as that record’s three
signature songs are all represented here in radically different
versions that those featured thereon: “Uncertain Smile” and
“Perfect” are pulled from their original single releases,
and “This Is the Day” is culled from 1994’s Disinfected
EP. These stripped-down versions are surprisingly effective,
though, with special accolades for David Johansen’s fabulous
harmonica work on “Perfect.”
New(ish) material includes a gorgeous alternate version of
“DecemberSunlight (Cried Out)” from 2000’s underappreciated
NakedSelf, a re-edited version of “Sweet Bird of Truth”
(perhaps the most provocative and disturbing pop single ever
issued, with such key lyrical lines as: “Ain’t never been
to church or believed in Jesus Christ/But I’m praying that
God’s with you . . . when you die”), and the previously unreleased
“Pillar Box Red” and “Deep Down Truth,” both nice, latter-day
cuts with a nice, latter-day The The sound. In between, Johnson
inserts seven other originals, plus “I Saw the Light” from
his tribute to Hank Williams, Hanky Panky. It’s a nice
rendition, but it feels out of place here next to such cynical
and topical masterpieces as “Heartland” (wherein Johnson notes
of his English homeland “This is the 51st state of the U.S.A.”)
and 1989’s “Armageddon Days (Are Here Again),” a discourse
on the role of religion in war that’s distressingly timely
in the era of Al Qaeda. Worth a listen, or 10—is this excellent
introduction to the work of one of modern pop music’s most
intelligent writers and performers.
—J.
Eric Smith
Little
Charlie and the Nightcats
That’s
Big (Alligator)
In any musical tradition, there are those who expand the boundaries
and there are preservationists. Little Charlie and the Nightcats
are a hot quartet who have long hewed to Chicago blues and
West Coast swing, and their latest 14 tracks stay the course.
The point of That’s Big is that when it ain’t broke,
you don’t fix it.
Charlie Baty works the fretboard of his hollow-body Gibson
with a well-honed sense of restraint. His jazzy playing is
understated, but he can still send up cascades of notes when
the moment demands. As a vocalist, Rick Estrin is more of
a crooner than a belter, which may explain why the Nightcats
have leaned toward humorous material over the years. He is
one the best blues harmonica players on the scene today, though,
and his chops evoke the muses of past masters such as Little
Walter and Sonny Boy Williamson II.
The title cut, an original (as are all but one of the songs),
is a sly paean to portly women. Estrin’s harmonica recalls
Little Walter’s jazzy phrasing in “Livin’ Good,” while a guest
horn section provides an uptown backdrop. The swingy instrumental
“Bluto’s Back in Town” showcases Little Charlie and guest
Rusty Zinn swapping insouciant guitar lines. Robert Johnson’s
“Steady Rollin’ Man,” the only cover here, is a rare harmonica-and-stand-up-bass
duet that is a re- creation of the Willie Dixon and Sonny
Boy Williamson II rendition of the song.
—Glenn
Weiser
New
Band
Partch
and Drummond (Innova)
Dean Drummond has been involved with the music of Harry Partch
since he joined the composer’s Venice, Calif., ensemble while
still in high school. A few years after Partch’s death in
1974, Drummond cofounded the New Band, who have been invaluable
in both maintaining Partch’s invented instruments and preserving
and expanding his musical legacy. This disc offers works by
both Partch and Drummond. The former is presented in “Eleven
Intrusions,” a suite of relatively short pieces written in
the late ’40s. They utilize mixed instrumentation and spoken-sung
texts by a variety of poets. That is followed by the nine-minute
“Dark Brother.” Completed in 1943, it was the first piece
Partch wrote for his then-recently-constructed chromelodeon.
Along with an adapted viola, the kithara and a bass marimba,
it provides a setting for the final paragraphs of “God’s Lonely
Man” by Thomas Wolfe.
Drummond’s own pieces explore a similar terrain of microtonal
accompaniment and text. “Before the Last Laugh” originally
was developed as a live soundtrack to a 1925 silent film,
while “Congressional Record” uses text from four speeches
extracted from the publication of the same name. The mix of
operatic bearing and contemporary issues commingle to create
a whole at once jarring and timeless.
—David
Greenberger
 Hoagy
Carmichael and Friends
Stardust
Melody (Bluebird)
Hoagy Carmichael was hip enough to record with Bix Beiderbecke
in 1927 and with Art Pepper in 1956. His song “Star Dust”
is a cornerstone of American popular music. He had an easygoing
presence in movies, with notable roles in To Have and Have
Not and The Best Years of Our Lives. And his songs
have been covered by anyone who dips at all into the standards
canon.
The cuts on Bluebird’s Stardust Melody were chosen
by Richard Sudhalter, whose Carmichael biography was recently
published. Although Carmichael was a compelling performer
of his own material, others put more definitive stamps on
the songs. But Carmichael’s roots were very much in the early
years of jazz, and this collection mines the strengths of
the RCA Victor catalogue to present versions that are more
jazz- than vocal-driven, all recorded between 1925 and 1947.
And the 1947 cut “Rockin’ Chair” by Louis Armstrong and His
All-Stars is a throwback to the prewar style.
“Rockin’
Chair” makes two other appearances: in a small-group session
with Mildred Bailey, who made a trademark out of the song,
and in Hoagy’s own 1929 version. Although the latter, and
its sessionmate “March of the Hoodlums,” are billed as previously
unreleased, they in fact appeared with all the other Carmichael-featured
cuts on the 1989 Bluebird CD Stardust and Much More.
Sudhalter’s notes put the collection in just the perspective
it needs: “The very idea of composing terrified, yet fascinated
Carmichael. Self-taught, barely able to read or notate music,
he found himself groping, as he’d have put it, beyond his
limitations.” But he produced “Riverboat Shuffle,” which Beiderbecke
recorded in 1924 (for the Gennett label, so we get the Chicago-based
Benson Orchestra’s uncharacteristically hot 1925 Victor waxing),
and “Star Dust” soon after that.
Carmichael’s debut recording of his best-loved song was also
for Gennett and featured a small band, but he gave it a more
thoughtful treatment as a piano solo for Victor in 1933, and
that’s the cut that leads off this CD. No vocal version is
included, but that’s not what this collection is about.
Not that there’s any lack of vocalists. Carmichael himself
sings “Washboard Blues” in a mushy Paul Whiteman arrangement
from 1927; he’s also the crooner for “Lazy River,” “Come Easy,
Go Easy Love,” “Sing It Way Down Low,” “Moon Country” and
“Lazy Bones.” Ethel Waters gets two spots: “Old Man Harlem”
and “Bread and Gravy.” Also included are vocals from trumpet
players Louis Armstrong (a “Rockin’ Chair” duet with Jack
Teagarden) and Hot Lips Page (“Small Fry”) among others.
The jazz quotient is very high and the remasterings are as
good as you can expect from material this old, but certainly
better than some earlier CD releases. And what with the attention
George Gershwin keeps grabbing as the quintessential American
songwriter, it’s about time Carmichael got some deserved recognition.
—B.A.
Nilsson
|
Columns
& Opinions
