Joni Mitchell’s “road weary,” intensely personal adult confessional, released in 1971, shattered forever what appeared to be her carefully cultivated “hippie chick” image at a time when her star had ridden it to unimaginable heights on an almost vertical trajectory.
Bop clarinetist Tony Scott (born Anthony Joseph Sciacca in Morristown, NJ), who plays on this Sarah Vaughan album as part of an octet that includes Miles Davis (then 24), passed away the day before this was written, on the last day of March, 2007. An obit I read says that the eclectic Mr. Scott also arranged “The Banana Boat Song (Day-O)” for Harry Belafonte. As I write this sentence, his velvety clarinet sings prettily behind Vaughan at the end of “It Might As Well Be Spring.”
After collapsing on stage three years ago and nearly dying of complications brought on by Hepatitis C, Austin, Texas based rock and roller Alejandro Escovedo returns with a deeply moving John Cale produced album that reclaims his past musical ferocity, while moving the 55 year old survivor forward into sensitive new musical and lyrical territory.
Back in 2000, when Lyra introduced the Helikon moving-coil cartridge, which replaced the then six-year-old Clavis D.C., the company inexplicably retained the Clavis D.C.'s retail price of $2000. This was inexplicable because the Helikon's revolutionary design was new from the ground up, and because audiophiles—like most, if not all, consumers—perceive price to be a reflection of quality and performance.
Krauss and company’s tuneful, crossover bluegrass-pop may not be pure enough for the dogmatic, but for the rest of us, the smooth-to-the-touch instrumentals and lilting, lockstep harmonies bring mountain-sense and countrified order to a chaotic world however far into the pop arena the group occasionally strays.
For my money, the greatest YES album, musically and sonically was 1971’s The Yes Album (Atlantic SD 8283), recorded Autumn of 1970, and if you can find an original, thick “1841 Broadway” pressing, get one. An audiophile-quality reissue generated from the master tape would be nice, but unfortunately, Rhino took it upon itself to reissue it recently in their first, undistinguished entry into vinyl, and it wasn’t very good.
The British minimalist art/punk band Wire’s first three spare, angular albums, originally issued in 1977, 8 and 9 weren’t big sellers then and unfortunately the chances are they won’t be this time either, though I sure hope they do well enough to encourage 4 Men With Beards and other labels to reissue adventurous and worthwhile, if not the most popular music.
Based on this uneven, less than memorable effort by Jean-Benoit Dunckel (who calls himself Darkel here), the whole is greater than the sum of the parts of the French minimalist electronica duo known as Air. With his partner Nicolas Godin, Mr. Dunckel produces some of the most arresting, three -dimensional, self contained electronic and acoustic soundscapes you’re likely to experience.
Recorded and released during one of the most tumultuous and disturbing periods in contemporary American history, Emergency Ward! is a grand, exasperated plea for peace and understanding by one of the great soul/jazz voices of the 20th century.
A straight-ahead, often fast-paced blowing session led by Plas Johnson, a versatile alto and tenor saxophonist who’s been heard by tens of millions, but known by very few. The theme from the “Pink Panther” includes Johnson’s most famous sax lines, but he’s played sessions for Frank, Peggy, Nat, Ella, Sarah, Ray, you first-name them.