Fats Waller had been gone twelve years when Louis Armstrong and his All-Stars recorded this tribute album in 1955. Sadly, the notorious overeater died at 39 of a heart attack.
These loose, swinging 50+ year old sessions recorded in the summer of 1958 and winter of 1959 and sounding incredibly life-like tonally, offer Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn on piano fronting small combos of legendary horn players, some not normally associated with Ellington, Joe Jones on drums and a few added musicians to spice up the mix.
Maybe the soundtrack to your life didn’t exist in 1969, or if you’re fortyish, was filtered through an amniotic sack. 1969 was an unsettling year. The fall was post-Woodstock and spelled the end of the ‘60s, though what we now think of as “the ‘60’s” arguably didn’t happen until the ‘70s. 
This slab of red vinyl got plopped on the turntable and listened to before the unnoticed press blurb stuffed into the gatefold jacket made returning it from where it came impossible.
Only in retrospect does the “high concept” of Marshall Crenshaw’s remarkable 1982 debut assert itself: marry infectious ‘50s and ‘60’s-like rock’n’roll tunes with the then modern chorus guitar effects popularized by The Police’s Andy Summers. Maybe that wasn’t the plan, but that’s sure what it sounds like! That, or what a vintage Seeburg or Wurlitzer juke box would sound like heard from outside of the malt shop teen hang out.
The indie rocker Sufjan Stevens brings a surprising and delightful buoyancy and sense of wonderment to his orchestral suite commissioned by the Brooklyn Academy of Music to celebrate the 25th anniversary of its “Next Wave” Music Festival. The original debut performances were in November of 2007.
Icy cold vistas, shards of broken electronic glass, relentless thumping disco beats and possible mysteriously encrypted bits of dialogue may not sound like something that would be particularly inviting on a full range audio system, but somehow Fuck Buttons makes it so on this album of artificial mayhem and just plain noise.
The first Blood, Sweat and Tears group led by Al Kooper and including his former Blues Project bandmate Steve Katz, was the sophisticated assemblage that produced but one album. This one.
Was this the greatest rock and roll concert recording ever as some suggest? Is it deserving of deluxe box set status? The producers of this ultra-sumptuous box obviously thought so!
This album was issued back in 2008 but gets reviewed here because though the name Nada Surf has popped through my consciousness for years, I’d never heard them. I know, I can go online and listen and probably even steal all of their stuff for free but I’m not wired like that, so I actually went out and bought this album on vinyl without hearing a note.
Villa-Lobos’s folk-oddity “The Little Train of the Caipira” from Bachianas Brasileiras No. 2 is a delightful, evocative piece of music, as colorful as the cover artwork and a sonic spectacular guaranteed to delight even the most classical music-averse audiophiles.
(Corrected version: Elliot Easton is still with us. Ben Orr, unfortunately, passed away in 2000. I mistakenly said "the late Elliot Easton" in the original review. My apologies!)