I don’t know about you, but back in the winter of 1969, big band music was not exactly my “go to” musical genre. At 22 I was listening to Abbey Road which had just come out, and Tommy and Simon and Garfunkel and The Kinks, and Frank Zappa, not Duke Ellington, though I was into Monk, Coltrane, Miles and Cannonball. I drew the line at big band music.
A collection of mostly 17th and 18th century music, much of which was written to alleviate a form of madness caused by a Tarantula bite might not sound like an enticing concept, but it is!
The almost apologetic liner notes let you know that the music on this album, and indeed Mr. Hawkins himself, was essentially out of favor, except as an exercise in nostalgia and that Prestige’s “Moodsville” series, if not meant as background “mood music,” could serve that purpose, though it was perfectly suited for actual listening should the buyer so desire. Montovani is even mentioned in the notes!
Eager anticipation turned into bitter disappointment early as Steely Dan played its final Beacon Theater (NY) concert last night (June 13th 2007). Opening tunes can’t be counted upon for greatness, as the band warms up and the mixer dials in the sound, but unfortunately, last night’s thin, sizzly, musically disjointed opener set the stage for an evening of thudding, overblown drumming, and an excruciatingly thin, sizzly, sibilant vocal mix on Donald Fagen’s clearly fatigued voice.
Obviously, drummer Keith Carlock is a talented and energetic drummer, but his playing last night had very little to do with Steely Dan’s slinky, insinuating sound, and much more to do with a Heavy Metal concert.
The shadow story of the tragic life of the sad-eyed, impossibly pretty Gram Parsons is fairly well known, at least among fans of The Byrds, The Flying Burrito Brothers and Parsons’ ill-fated solo career.
Parsons (original name: Ingram Cecil Connor III) was an enigma: a Southern born trust fund baby, Harvard drop-out and emotionally troubled musician who, though plagued by alcohol and drug abuse, (or perhaps in part because of it), produced some of the most haunting and enduring music of his era, while forging a new musical paradigm combining folk, country, rock, soul and “glam.” Though he influenced generations of musicians who followed, he never sold that many records.
Not having to include picture with sound gave the compilers of this 4 LP box set latitude Martin Scorsese did not have when he made his Dylan bio No Direction Home: The Soundtrack.
Jazz vocalist Karrin Allyson’s tenth Concord release and her most recent to be issued on double 180g vinyl by Pure Audiophile, is yet another pleasing, eclectic and elegant set from the young, refreshingly unaffected vocalist.
Last night during the intermission between performances of Brahms’ Third and Fourth Symphonies, I stood on the Avery Fisher Hall balcony talking with a couple I didn’t know who were probably in their mid-sixties and I mentioned that I wrote about “stereo” equipment. They reacted with surprise, with the husband exclaiming, “Stereo. Now that’s an old-fashioned term. I didn’t think anyone used it anymore.”
Despite once having endorsed Bose, Herbie Hancock is clearly a good listener. For his first Blue Note solo outing back in 1962 when he was just 22, he led with “Watermelon Man,” an irresistible “crossover” tune that could attract a crowd beyond Blue Note’s usual buyers. While Hancock says it’s based on a childhood recollection of street vendors, the song’s groove was very much in tune with “the street” circa 1962. Hancock’s playing is funky but not flamboyant.
It’s not often that a rock band remains together for more than 20 years and releases consistently swell records along the way, but Yo La Tengo has managed to do that, in part because Ira Kaplan and Georgia Hubley have beat the odds twice: managing to stay together throughout both as bandmates and husband and wife.