Let’s get one thing straight here first. No reissue label and mean none goes to the trouble Classic does to get the packaging right. Get your hands on this Tommy reissue and compare it to the original UK Track edition and you will see that Classic has gone the extra 3000 miles to give you as close a facsimile of the original British pressing as is humanely possible.
Critics are probably not supposed to like the kind of retro-kitsch proffered by The Puppini Sisters, a trio of unrelated gals based in the UK, though one of them, Marcella is a Puppini, or at least goes by the name.
As with back jacket credits of UK-based Pure Pleasure’s 180g vinyl release ofMississippi John Hurt Today! (http://www.musicangle.com/album.php?id=461), this Vanguard reissue erroneously claims to have been sourced from a CD. If you’re going to do that, why bother having Kevin Gray cut lacquers at AcousTech when you can have it done much closer to home and probably at lower cost?
A friend told me that Blonde Redhead purists simply hate this album, or at least they’re disappointed by the New York based group’s 7th. Disappointed by what they claim is overproduction, over-thinking and artifice in place of substance.
Low’s latest begins on a somber, fatalistic note with the dirge-like “Pretty People,” in which we’re reminded that along with the soldiers fighting today, and all the little babies, and all the lions and “..all the pretty people…,” we’re all gonna die.
Smartly arranged and orchestrated, nicely recorded and beautifully packaged, Bright Eyes’s latest double LP set is a wistful set that begins oddly but effectively with a denouement of a song about the encroaching pincer forces of corporate, military and religious aggressors (“If you think that God is keeping score, hooray!”)
Slinky “world music” with a distinctly American desert underpinning, yet incorporating Arabic tonal modes, Another Green World Eno-esque rhythms and an eclectic, dizzying array of instruments, acoustic and electronic, Califone’s latest album will literally leave you gasping for air as you vainly attempt to absorb even a pathetically small percentage of what’s thrown at you musically and sonically on what is a stupendous production and an even more remarkable recording.
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.