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Denali
The
Instinct (Jade Tree)
By all accounts, the songs on Denali’s self-titled debut were
the first that Maura Davis had ever written—pretty impressive,
even if the record wore out its welcome by the end of the
second listen—so it was interesting to see where the Richmond,
VA-based four-piece would go next. Apparently, two years of
nonstop touring has sharpened the band’s edges, as the sounds,
ideas and performances on The Instinct show a band
really putting their heads together and striving toward something
bigger and better. Their songwriting and presentation have
improved by leaps and bounds in the last 18 months, shrugging
off the faux-Portishead leanings and conventional song structures
of Denali in favor of a more abstract, atmospheric
sound, along the lines of late-period Radiohead. The rhythm
section (also half of postpunkers Engine Down) pulsates and
punctuates, especially on the insistent “Real Heat,” while
guitarist Cam DiNunzio drapes icicles of sound across every
chilly surface. Davis has really stepped up to bat vocally
as well, at times emulating a stranger’s icy glare, at others
a self-assured siren’s wail. The balance between entrancing
and unsettling is best choreographed on The Instinct’s
final stretch, where the band examine their darkened corners
on “Nullaby,” blast full-throttle into “Normal Days,” then
come back to earth for the heart-on-sleeve closer, “Welcome.”
—John
Brodeur
 Robert
Wyatt
Cuckooland
(Rykodisc)
Robert Wyatt is unmoved by pressures of the marketplace, creating
music on his own terms and in his own time. He has been a
gentle-yet-forceful presence ever since his band Soft Machine
appeared with flourish and fanfare in the mid-’60s. His solo
works, beginning with Rock Bottom in 1974, are some
of the most singularly distinct sounds to have come out of
the rock era.
Cuckooland
is Wyatt’s first new album in six years. It’s full of the
magic that’s been a hallmark of his writing and arranging
sensibilities, combined with a voice that exudes a naturalism
that makes each listener feel like they’re in his private
company. As with his previous release, Shleep, this
one was recorded at Phil Manzanera’s studio and calls upon
some of his regular cohorts. Additionally, he plays three
songs composed by Karen Mantler, who also appears, singing
and playing harmonica. The album’s longest track, “Forest,”
was written by Wyatt and his wife Alfreda Benge. It sounds
too beautiful to have not been in existence for centuries.
Embracing the poetics of human emotion, the song memorializes
lost lives more effectively than any overt political song
ever could.
—David
Greenberger
Great
Day For Up
godlovesasinner
(Curve of the Earth)
How do you know a good band when you hear it? Why, when the
four forces of nature—strong nuclear, weak nuclear, electromagnetic
and gravitational—converge to form a singular, immeasurable
force that gets right behind your eyes and casts weird invisible
rays of foreign matter at people. They avoid you for days
thereafter, which is great, but my point is that Albany-based
Great Day For Up are well on their way to mastering this formula,
which quantum theory suggests was responsible for the big
bang.
Cosmology theorists and their astronomy colleagues have reconstructed
the primordial chronology of that single, ineffable blossom
of ferocity from which all life sprang, but apparently an
even more daunting task these days is writing a simple song.
But surprise! These guys can write ’em. Songs! Real, live
songs for cryin’ out loud. From the stunning opener “goldenarms”
to the decadent slow burn of “siempre,” this is just good
stuff for the cosmos. Simple, powerful low-C riffs and deadly
hooks. Tight as a tick on a smelly rat. Decent production.
No need for Geezer Butler to pick up the white courtesy phone
here.
The band have taken a markedly different approach from their
last CD, which came off as a well-intentioned experiment with
unintended results, sounding somewhat distracted and commingled
with perhaps one too many influences. This stuff, however,
is munificent, car-crushing and concentrated toward the task
at hand, that task being conquering nations, salting their
fields and hearing the lamentations of their weak. East Coast
style. The only thing that annoys me a little is how they
run all the words together in each song title. I’m dyslexic
enough as it is.
—Bill
Ketzer
 The
Byrds
Sweetheart
of the Rodeo (Legacy Edition) (Columbia/Legacy)
Reissue powerhouse Columbia/ Legacy has given the Byrds’ brilliant
foray into Nashville twang the once-over yet again. For diehard
Byrdmaniax like me, this presumably final CD edition comes
as a welcome end in a problematic, slightly incomplete reissue
series on one of rock’s finest genre-bending albums.
Recorded in 1968 with an all-star cast of session musicians
lettin’ loose in Nashville (including the dizzying slide of
future-Byrd Clarence White), Sweetheart was a brilliant
pioneering step toward rock’s country frontier. Going beyond
their earlier folk-rock jangles and the outer limits of space-rock,
a hard-pressed Roger McGuinn welcomed the surrealist country-rocker
Gram Parsons aboard to spirit the newest phase in the ever-evolving
Byrds canon. Parsons’ Byrds plucked ’60s rock back to a historical
past, managing to showcase country’s overlaps in rock, R&B
and folk, while still being cool.
Some
of the bonus material available here has previously been released
on a 1997 reissue, but this edition unearths a mass of studio
outtakes, rehearsals and demos cut from the Sweetheart
sessions. Nearly all of the 20-odd extras are alternate versions
of album tracks sung by Parsons, a voice better suited to
country’s warmness than the alternate McGuinn’s. All involved
in Sweetheart have since renounced Parsons’ exclusion
(due to contract obligations involving his other band, Int’l
Submarine Band, given six bonus cuts here). Reissuers have
well-compensated those regrets by including multiple takes
of songs he was silenced on—a nice move, even with minute
audible difference between takes. With remastering duties
handled by Bob Irwin (of Sundazed fame), Sweetheart
has never before sounded as clear or full, particularly in
the ubiquitous swirls of pedal steel. Newcomers will likely
opt for the less-pricey 1997 issue, but audiophiles, fans
and rock geeks alike will find this a due encore in the life
of this country-rock milestone.
—John
Suvannavejh
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