A Consumer Guide to the Trailing Edge: January, 2006

Recycled Goods (#27)

by Tom Hull

Recycled Goods is taking a break. This month's column is a house cleaning exercise, where I'm reviewing the new 2005 releases I've heard, think are really notable, and haven't reviewed elsewhere. Aside from the old stuff column here, I write the Jazz Consumer Guide for the Village Voice, and one consequence is I'm inundated by jazz releases, way beyond my standard position that jazz is an unfashionable and much underappreciated backwater of popular music. Still, when you spend 75% of your waking hours sorting through marginally differentiated jazz releases, it's nice to drop something else in the slot -- hip-hop and country are where I usually look, although I still like a tight rock band, some warm buttered soul, and anything with a good beat.

Since my year is so skewed toward jazz, I've toned it down here. The few jazz records below are items I haven't written about in my Voice column -- usually because someone had already written about them in the Voice. I've also left out anything I've already reviewed here in Recycled Goods. So this isn't a true year-end list. (You can find one of those on my website.) It's just what's left that I haven't written about elsewhere. Clean up. But it's also a pretty broad picture of 2005, somewhat arbitrarily selected depending on what I could get my hands on, and what struck my fancy so much that I shelled out cash for it.

Old stuff returns next month. Maybe this experiment will return next January, when we have another whole year to flush out. Sorry if the grades look all the same, but the A-list is so long there's no need to get into the diminishing returns.


Buck 65: Secret House Against the World (2005, Warner Music Canada). Not counting the sidestepping US-targeted This Right Here Is Buck 65 (V2), this is Rich Terfly's eighth album. He started in rural Nova Scotia, had no problem becoming the hottest shot in Halifax, then signed with a major label (WEA) in a minor pond (Canada). Early on he sought perfect beats and crafted charming variants, narrating tall tales that only once, hilariously, resorted to hip-hop cliché, giving him a voice unique among rappers -- especially when that voice turns unnaturally old, embittered or wizened. Lately he's leaned toward conventional instruments, with a special fondness for pedal steel. Got hitched too, and wife Claire Berest adds her voice to six songs, plus translated some of his lyrics into French. That may play well up north, but down here I'm reminded of David Ogilvy's advice: "cultivate your idiosyncrasies, otherwise when you grow old people will think you're going ga-ga." His music has never been more varied or harder to pigeon-hole. And his voice is older, both embittered (as when he complains that "hip hop music has ruined my life") and wizened (as when he remembers his mother's scared smile when he was seven and his father threw his goldfish on the floor for the cat). A-

FME: Cuts (2004 [2005], Okka Disk). 2005 was another big year for the hardest working man in avant-jazz: Ken Vandermark. His flagship quintet, the Vandermark 5, announced the departure of trombonist Jeb Bishop, to be replaced by cellist Fred Lonberg-Holm, then cleared the shelves, releasing a 2-CD studio album, The Color of Memory (Atavistic) and a 12-CD live box from a week in Poland, Alchemia (Not Two). Other releases include big band mayhem with the Peter Brötzmann Chicago Tentet (Be Music, Night, Okka Disk) and his Territory Band (Company Switch, Okka Disk), his small groups FME (Cuts, Okka Disk) and Free Fall (Amsterdam Funk, Smalltown Supersound), meet-ups with Gold Sparkle Trio (Brooklyn Cantos, Squealer), Paul Rutherford (Hoxha, Spool), and the Oles brothers (Ideas, Not Two). I haven't heard them all, but I've heard enough to argue that he's the artist of the year, and that this is the place to start. FME is intended as Vandermark's free improv trio, but teaming with his most rock-hardened collaborators -- Boston bassist Nate McBride (also in Spaceways Inc. and Triple Play) and Norwegian drummer Paal Nilssen-Love (also in School Days and Territory Band) -- brings out his punk side. With so much power you don't notice the finesse at first, but it's there. A

Craig Harris: Souls Within the Veil (2003 [2005], Aquastra, 2CD). Writing in 1903, W.E.B. DuBois was perhaps the first to recognize in Afro-American music's sublime resistance to oppression a tool that would eventually break the noose of racism. DuBois' book, The Souls of Black Folk, is trombonist Craig Harris' Rosetta Stone, but his extended pieces owe a more immediate debt to his early '80s work with the David Murray Octet. His "ten souls using ten timeless veils" are heavy with horns and sprightly with percussion. Kahil El'Zabar's taste of Africa is essential, and the soloists shine -- Steve Coleman, Don Byron, and Hamiet Bluiett especially. A

The Hold Steady: Separation Sunday (2005, Frenchkiss). In terms of pure sound, which is necessarily where one starts, Craig Finn's band most resembles the Fall, only if anything denser and more gnarled. Finn's voice even has a bit of Mark Smith to it. It's a neat trick. The songs, with their rushed and convoluted lyrics, take more work: "She said you remind me of Rod Stewart when he was young. You've got passion, you think that you're sexy. And all the punks think that you're dumb." The slice of life dwells mostly on religion, its pain and bliss: "I can't stand all the things that she sticks into her skin. Like sharpened ballpoint pens. . . . She's got blue black ink and it's scratched into her lower back. It said: 'Damn right I'll rise again." Last word: "Even if you don't get converted tonite you must admit that the band's pretty tight." Amen to that. A-

M.I.A.: Arular (2005, Beggars/XL). Don't know whether the acronym refers to her absence from the Tamil Tiger revolt in her parents' native Sri Lanka or it's just initials for her unmarketable name Mathangi Arulpragasam. The album cover is decorated with guns, bombs and tanks, a jungle prison around her face, but elsewhere she exudes plausible denial. Many fear what Denys Arcand called "the barbarian invasions" but the disorder we associate with the third world is the detached face of imperialism, while those who come here seek civility, escape from the violence, and open up the prospect of a culture that transcends the West's self-conceit. Still, this sounds more English than the Brits. A-

The Perceptionists: Black Dialogue (2005, Definitive Jux). You know they're underground because they don't have the budget for the commercial sample, but you suspect that's mostly because they figure the words are hooks enough. Kanye West, Missy Elliott, and Eminem don't trust their lyrics to flow so unadorned. But as alt-rap goes, DJ Fakts One's beats are downright effervescent, and rappers Akrobatik and Mr. Lif, with worthy solo albums under each belt, make a bid for supergroup status. Only false moment comes in their perplexed-soldiers-in-Iraq "Memorial Day" -- you know they always were too smart to fall for the Bush line. They even tell you as much in the refrain, "we knew your ass was bluffin'." A

Bobby Pinson: Man Like Me (2005, RCA). Too literate for the small Texas towns he grew up in, but not sharp enough to avoid a hitch in the army, you have to figure that the lessons given in "Don't Ask Me How I Know" were learned the hard way. But his eye for detail and skill at turning a phrase makes it naive to think his songs are autobiographical -- growing up is his subject matter, not because he's done it but because he thinks it's important. After nearly a decade hawking songs in Nashville, this is his first album -- self-assured, ambitious, and nervous. Even closes quoting "Jesus Loves Me" -- only other album I can recall to pull that off credibly was James Talley's first. A-

Amy Rigby: Little Fugitive (2005, Signature Sounds). First song looks for a metaphor for repeatedly bouncing back from heartbreak and finds the virtually unkillable Rasputin. Second puzzles over how come her new husband's ex-wife treats her so nice. Third imagines a night on the town with Joey Ramone. Fourth is a baroque lullaby about when her man loves her best. Fifth is psychedelic pop about her slutty past. Sixth bemoans needy men with a mocking chorus to rub it in. Six more songs follow: like the first six, each has its own distinctive shape and lyrics. The most consistent set of songs, even given the most varied range of music, she's released in a career that has now run to five straight A-list records. A

Sufjan Stevens: Illinois (2005, Asthmatic Kitty): First time through this repeatedly set off my classical music bullshit detector -- the strings, the horns, the elaborate theme and variation and counterpoint and interlude, the suite structure, little bits of percussion, everything except the vocals which are never operatic. I had developed an intense hatred of the stuff back when I was a child, to the point that someone like Beethoven would make me nauseous, but this never elicited second stage symptoms. Instead, it grew on me. You can chalk this up as proof that the high vs. pop culture wars of the '50s are over. I figure Stevens resorts to classical devices not because he hopes to elevate the music but because he has the education and wit to try to make it work for him. His plan is to do an album about each state -- this is his second after Michigan. Sounds like an interesting WPA project. A-

Rachid Taha: Tékitoi (1998-2004 [2005], Wrasse): Algerian-born, French-raised; the burning banlieus of France are filled with the same demographic, estranged from their roots in an old world wrecked any way by colonialism, too French to go back, to foreign to be welcomed in. It's a dead end for most, but Taha is a rock star of the highest order. He looks like Springsteen on the cover, which is good enough for comparison: he respects his elders -- in his case the founders of Algeria's electro-pop known as rai -- and builds on their classic sound while scaling it up because the singer's charisma deserves no less. A-

Kanye West: Late Registration (2005, Roc-A-Fella). I didn't stick with his first one long enough to acclaim it record of the year -- a college dropout myself, I harbor doubts that that was such a smart move, and not because I doubt that being smart is its own reward. But this one didn't give me any choice: it kicked in right from the start. He made his name first as a producer, and he takes no chances on his own shit, bringing in extra firepower he hardly needs. He doesn't just sample -- he orchestrates multiple samples, in one or two cases turning them into something symphonic and, even more remarkably, getting away with it. This gives him a consistently compelling musical platform, but that would be mere popcraft without his rhymes or his personality, which popped out less artfully when he charged George Bush with not caring about black people. Kanye cares, because he knows who he is, where he's come from, who's in his boat. And right now he's driving that boat, teasing us, taunting us, with his "Crack Music" -- and he knows he's got the goods. A


Briefly Noted

Additional Consumer News

Omitted from the above were 2005 releases of A-list records that previously reviewed in Recycled Goods. This was usually because the source material was old even though it hadn't been released before.

The longer list of omitted A-list albums are those I've previously reviewed in the Jazz Consumer Guide at the Village Voice.

Finally, some more jazz records that made my year-end list, but I don't have a published review for yet. They should appear in a future Jazz Consumer Guide, so consider this a sneak preview:

Lead-in:

In an infinite universe, all the music you'll ever need already exists somewhere. We find more each month, but this month take a break to round up the best of 2005: singer-songwriters (Amy Rigby, Sufjan Stevens); rockers (Hold Steady, Ponys, Wide Right), rappers (Kanye West, Perceptionists, Blueprint, Buck 65); country (Bobby Pinson, Hayes Carll); beats (M.I.A., Four Tet); blues (Maria Muldaur, Blood Ulmer); even some jazz (Craig Harris, Ken Vandermark); many more (64 records).

Prospects

These are new 2005 records considered here but not included for various reasons. Presumably I'll dump them out in the blog.

Singles

  1. John Prine, "Some Humans Ain't Human"
  2. Hayes Carll, "Good Friends"
  3. Bobby Pinson, "Nothing Happens in This Town

Notes

These are some new 2005 records that I've seen plausible favorable reference to. I'll try to track at least some of these down before this column closes. [# - notes from listening to samples, number is priority to obtain, from 0-5]

While we're at it, here are some recommended old records/compilations:


Copyright © 2005 Tom Hull.