Subtlety was not in Neil Young’s game plan when he sat down to write the tunes here, probably in a burst of creative energy born of frustration with the war in Iraq and other Bush administration activities over the past few years. Young’s moved quite a ways since his romance with the Reagan administration.
Decide for yourself whether The Lovin’ Spoonful took their name from Mississippi John Hurt’s “Coffee Blues” (not to mention the tune for “Darlin’ Companion”) but fans of Taj Mahal will have no doubts about this gentle soul’s influence on Taj when you hear this earlier take on “Corrina, Corrina” and compare it to Taj’s on The Natch’l Blues (CS9698).
Bongos and an A-bomb sound effect commence “No Man Can Find The War,” the dramatic opening tune on Tim Buckley’s second Elektra LP, recorded in Los Angeles, June of 1967 as the war in Vietnam burned itself into the American psyche. An anti-war song, like so many others of the time, it speaks to the futility of war and look where we are almost forty years hence.
Twelve Broadway chestnuts from the days when Broadway shows were produced for New York sensibilities instead of for the midwest bus-hoards. Nothing poisonal, mind you, but Broadway today is aimed at tourists, not New Yawkers.
If you’re one of those who doesn’t “get” Brothers In Arms, originally issued in 1985, Robert Sandell’s liner notes accompanying this meticulously produced double 180g LP reissue provide a plausible, if not entirely believable explanation for its original and continued popularity.
If there’s to be a second blues revival after the first one in the early ‘60s that led to the “rediscovery” of neglected artists like Son House and even Robert Johnson, the first great analog revival occurring right now will lead the way.
Another sonic spectacular from the Everest catalog, this pairing of Shostakovich’s 9th Symphony, completed in 1945, with Prokofiev’s score for the 1933 film “Lieutenant Kije,” offers rich, warm orchestral colors, remarkable transparency and air, and dynamic contrasts that mimic what one hears in a good concert hall.
Making a miserable day even worse, today, September 11th, was the day we put our beloved dog Eno, and this site's mascot to sleep.
In the context of the sorrow and suffering of those who lost loved ones on this day five years ago, the loss of a pet dog is rendered insignificant but it was our dog and our loss and we feel it deeply.
“She brushes off comparisons to Billie Holiday,” according to Mobile Fidelity’s online blurb. Why? That’s like denying the elephant in the room. Peyroux’s squooshy vibrato and top of the throat delivery produce sly vocal timbres that just about channel Billie Holiday between your speakers. Even the miking and equalization have been carefully chosen to sustain the Holiday allusion and almost mimic the mellow recording quality of the time, just as the inner gatefold photography and Peyroux’s outfits reprise the visuals of the ‘40s. It’s canny but I find it distracting and mannered.
As old-fashioned ear candy, David Gilmour’s On An Island is difficult to beat. Produced by seasoned studio pros intent upon making you stop what you are doing and actually listen, the record is a rich minefield of sonic surprises and delights, beginning with impressionistic musical sound effects mimicking foghorns, sea-gulls and the like, after which enters Gilmore’s familiar feedback-drenched, crescendo-capped guitar, and archetypal mid-tempo woozy balladry.