Saturday, August 27, 2005
Matt Pond Sips Champagne
I was listening to "Champagne Supernova," the most plaintive of Oasis songs, in a version by matt pond PA.
You may not know matt pond PA; I hardly know them myself. What I've heard before I've liked, but growth potential is probably limited by the awkward band name, a name that almost defiantly insists that the act will swim only in the alternative pond until the pond dries up. However. The otherwise so-so "Music from the OC Mix 4" compilation concludes with matt pond's symphonic take on "Champagne Supernova," which they turn into the generational anthem Oasis couldn't decide it should be. In terms of capturing the spirit of its time, it's comparable to Thunderclap Newman's 1969-1970 recording "Something in the Air."
(c) Wayne Robins. 2005. Comments welcome.
Google News
You may not know matt pond PA; I hardly know them myself. What I've heard before I've liked, but growth potential is probably limited by the awkward band name, a name that almost defiantly insists that the act will swim only in the alternative pond until the pond dries up. However. The otherwise so-so "Music from the OC Mix 4" compilation concludes with matt pond's symphonic take on "Champagne Supernova," which they turn into the generational anthem Oasis couldn't decide it should be. In terms of capturing the spirit of its time, it's comparable to Thunderclap Newman's 1969-1970 recording "Something in the Air."
(c) Wayne Robins. 2005. Comments welcome.
Google News
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Willie Nelson Sings the Kingston Phone Book
One of pop criticism's most durable cliches goes like this: Willie Nelson could sing the phone book. Meaning, he could sing anything, your most worthless receipts, like those you get when you've paid $2.70 a gallon for gas with a credit card at a self-serve pump. Why do I keep these receipts? I do not know.
Anyway, so Willie Nelson can sing the phone book. But any phone book? I'm sure he can sing the Austin phone book, the San Antonio phone book, the Kerrville, Texas phone book. But when he decided to sing the Kingston, Jamaica phone book—that is, make a reggae album—it was easy to wonder if Willie was dialing for disaster.
There were apparently a few false starts over the years to the album "Countryman" (Lost Highway). And the first time through, it was Willie, just lose that number. But after a few listens, the wisdom of the concept—or rather, the wisdom of Willie—kicked in. The best part of the blend is the way the solid reggae rhythm section (oh, I'd write "riddim" but that is so corny!) contrasts with the steel guitar and harmonica: a sweet blend. (Check "Something to Think About" and "How Long is Forever").
They immediately reminded me of the most audacious reggae/country move of the 1970s: When Toots & the Maytals, the greatest soul reggae vocal group of all-time, covered "Take Me Home, Country Roads." Yes, the John Denver song. They replaced "West Virginia" with "Jamaica," of course, but they otherwise just did their Maytals thing with it, and it is a lasting performance.
So it was great to see that Willie shrewdly invited Toots Hibbert to sing "I'm A Worried Man." It's a win-win proposition: Either Toots rescues the song (not necessary) or Willie and Toots just relax together on a tune that doesn't require anything except their natural selves. Willie then sings "The Harder They Come" as a West Texas hymn, and throws perhaps a little too much wah-wah in the direction of "Sitting in Limbo." But against all odds, the project works better than anyone (except for possibly Willie) thought it would.
(c) Wayne Robins. All rights reserved. Touch base: xxxw2robins@mac.comxxx. (Delete the x's, of course).
Google News
Anyway, so Willie Nelson can sing the phone book. But any phone book? I'm sure he can sing the Austin phone book, the San Antonio phone book, the Kerrville, Texas phone book. But when he decided to sing the Kingston, Jamaica phone book—that is, make a reggae album—it was easy to wonder if Willie was dialing for disaster.
There were apparently a few false starts over the years to the album "Countryman" (Lost Highway). And the first time through, it was Willie, just lose that number. But after a few listens, the wisdom of the concept—or rather, the wisdom of Willie—kicked in. The best part of the blend is the way the solid reggae rhythm section (oh, I'd write "riddim" but that is so corny!) contrasts with the steel guitar and harmonica: a sweet blend. (Check "Something to Think About" and "How Long is Forever").
They immediately reminded me of the most audacious reggae/country move of the 1970s: When Toots & the Maytals, the greatest soul reggae vocal group of all-time, covered "Take Me Home, Country Roads." Yes, the John Denver song. They replaced "West Virginia" with "Jamaica," of course, but they otherwise just did their Maytals thing with it, and it is a lasting performance.
So it was great to see that Willie shrewdly invited Toots Hibbert to sing "I'm A Worried Man." It's a win-win proposition: Either Toots rescues the song (not necessary) or Willie and Toots just relax together on a tune that doesn't require anything except their natural selves. Willie then sings "The Harder They Come" as a West Texas hymn, and throws perhaps a little too much wah-wah in the direction of "Sitting in Limbo." But against all odds, the project works better than anyone (except for possibly Willie) thought it would.
(c) Wayne Robins. All rights reserved. Touch base: xxxw2robins@mac.comxxx. (Delete the x's, of course).
Google News
