This obscure little 1967 instrumental gem rescued from the dustbins of antiquity by Sundazed featuring guitarist Earl Hooker backed by an anonymous group of musicians including a drummer, bassist, organist, sax player and perhaps a rhythm guitarist, or Hooker’s overdubbing himself, is nothing more than a series of funky jams that show off Hooker’s unique curlicue guitar twanging style.
At a time when “all you can eat” music almost force feeds us with more content than any of us can possibly consume, and “table hopping” seems to be the order of the day, it may seem counterintuitive to serve up a multi-course meal like John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band The Ultimate Collection— a 6 CD, 2 Blu-Ray deep dive remixed set that explores the deepest recesses of John Lennon’s pivotal and most consequential album.
Periodically, artists will issue an album that unintentionally divides their audience, as John Lennon did with his October 1973 solo LP, Mind Games. A new 2LP set dubbed Mind Games: The Ultimate Mixes & The Out-takes, released on July 12, 2024, may change some of that perspective, as it aims to bring listeners more inside Lennon’s 1973 recording sessions at New York’s Record Plant studio. Read Mark Smotroff’s review to see if this new edition of Mind Games is worth the investment. . .
In the early 1960s Brazilian music washed up on American shores riding on an effervescent, sunlit wave of girls from Ipanema and up-tempo tunes like “Desafinado”, popularized by Stan Getz and Charlie Byrd on the breakthrough album Jazz Samba.
I Can See Your House From Here, originally released in 1994, is an outlier in the Tone Poet series, the bulk of which are past Blue Note titles, that for whatever reason or reasons, the label originally shelved only to release years later in limited production, and/or titles not released by other jazz audiophile outfits like Analogue Productions, Music Matters and Classic Records. The series also includes titles on Pacific Jazz, Solid State and a few other labels now under the Blue Note umbrella.
Simon split from Garfunkel, Buffalo Springfield broke up. So did The Youngbloods, The Lovin' Spoonful and of course The Beatles. Yes, many '60s groups remained together, like The Rolling Stones and The Grateful Dead, but as the tumultuous '60s came to a close, others fragmented with leaders going solo.
Far from the sad, wobbly finale you might be expecting, these last to be released Johnny Cash recordings are uplifting, inspirational and resolutely purposeful thanks to both Cash’s searing artistry and the sensitivity of the A&R work.
You’ve no doubt heard of Jon Batiste in conversation and song, for he’s currently an integral piece of the complex puzzle that is today’s version of musical entertainment and of being a musical entertainer. Being bandleader of Stay human, The Late Show with Stephen Colbert’s house band provides a steady gig and the financial stability that allows him to flourish and more easily express himself.
Josie Cotton, best known for her “controversial” 1980 song “Johnny Are You Queer” that turned into a minor international phenomenon while outraging evangelical types and has a back story worthy of a mini-novel, returns with a high low-concept album. You can search the internet for the backstory and watch her perform the song on YouTube.
It doesn't slight to this well-produced, thoroughly engaging record to write that singer/songwriter/pianist/raconteur Judith Owen is best experienced live in concert.
Jon Anderson was always busy exhorting listeners to “Get up!,” “Look around,!” “See yourself!,” etc. His lyrics feel like a Tony Robbins self-improvement course (“Take the straight and stronger course to the corner of your life,”), but Anderson and co. were doing it first and setting the self-help lectures to bombastic musical constructions. Because of Anderson’s lyrical themes, Yes could be preachy, pretentious, mechanical and cold, but you had to respect the musical craft—especially the rhythmic suppleness (it was smart to unleash Bill Bruford) and the group’s sophisticated manipulation of dynamics.
The timbre may have deepened, though almost imperceptibly, but caressing the soft, melodic waves of this set of tidily drawn, dreamy reveries, k.d. lang�s voice remains a magnificent, mellifluous instrument.
Mere months after his patience-testing yet rewarding opus Donda, Kanye West is back with its lazily titled sequel, Donda 2. Don’t expect to find it on streaming platforms or in record stores, however. The artist now legally known as Ye instead independently released it exclusively on the $200 Stem Player, a proprietary, Yeezy Tech- and Kano-developed device that allows users tactile interaction with his last three albums (more about that later). Most of Donda 2’s media coverage centers around the Stem Player situation, how everyone thinks Kanye is “crazy” to so highly value his art by making everyone pay $200 for it. Yet, Donda 2 itself doesn’t cost $200; it’s a free download accessible only via the $200 Stem Player, meaning he doesn’t technically have to pay anyone royalties or sample clearances. Kanye would tell you he’s winning, except it’s his own game designed to eliminate any threat of competition. (Either way, Billboard ruled the album ineligible to chart. Kanye’s decision to keep Donda 2 off streaming is immensely respectable, though I wish he also put out a more convenient $20 CD or tape.)
Time and time again, Kanye West succeeds in the unexpected. With each album, he overcomes struggles regarding celebrity, ego, family, mental health, and religion, moving forward yet never fully conquering his demons. He married and had four kids with Hollywood socialite/tabloid fixture Kim Kardashian, though still maintained his unfiltered authenticity. A consistently provocative—off-putting, some might say—figure who lives at pop culture’s core, he encapsulates human nature’s duality and contradiction. Kanye West is a rough-edged perfectionist, a master of spectacle, and even if you hate him, the center of attention.
Kanye West's devotion to Jesus is nothing new; it's a recurring subject throughout his discography. On his 2004 single “Jesus Walks,” he raps, “Now I ain’t here to argue ‘bout His facial features/Or here to convert atheists into believers.” In recent traveling-church-service performances with the Sunday Service choir, however, he changes the second aforementioned line to “we here to convert atheists into believers.”