Sunday, March 17, 2013
Johnny Marr
The Messenger
by Wayne Robins
In its February issue, Mojo magazine featured a cover story
on Johnny Marr, along with a free CD featuring a selection of tracks from his estimable
career since being the ying to Morrissey's yang in the Smiths.
What was striking about the Mojo disc was that if it were a
stand-alone album, it would have cemented his place as the great British rock
guitarist of his era, even if the competition was stronger. The Smiths era
(1982-1987) was dominated by synthesizers and dance tracks: the default mode
was Depeche Mode. It was the confident Marr's beguiling guitar that gave both
warmth and gravitas to Morrissey's misfit complaints. If I could bottle one
riff from the entire decade it would be Marr's Bo Diddley meets-"Disco
Stomp"-meets Dick Dale tremelo riff that elevates "How Soon is
Now?" into another sphere.
What makes Marr such a valuable musician is his dedication
to the idea of the band comes before his need for recognition as a soloist. After
the Smiths, he didn't just play on albums by The The (led by Matt Johnson),
Electronic (Bernard Sumner of New Order), Modest Mouse (Isaac Brock), and the
Cribs—he joined the bands, toured with them, co-wrote material, even stayed in Portland
for five years after hitting it off with Brock.
It's not exactly clear to me why "Boomslang," by Johnny
Marr and the Healers (2003) doesn't count as a "solo album"...except
for the Healers part, of course. It's also a little strange that the names of
the musicians who played with Marr on "The Messenger" are hard to
find. (The download I purchased lacks such information.)
For those of us who crave the excitement of guitar rock with
a solid song structure and with a dollop of maturity, "The Right Thing
Right," is the perfect kickoff. It's also a wonderful ethos for an
adaptable professional musician, beginning with a siren riff that takes you
right to the heart of the song.
Our artifice obsessed web-centric digital world emerges as a
theme in "I Want the Heartbeat": Think the juke-and-jive of the New
York Dolls and the innocence and verve of the first Franz Ferdinand album.
"Word Starts Attack" appears to be about the decline of manners in
interpersonal communications. And there's "Generate! Generate!," a
high-energy antidote to a pop music culture based on the notion of
"calculate! calculate!"
"The Crack-Up" updates the high-gloss funk of Chic,
while "Upstarts" is so anthemic you can imagine it as the curtain raiser
of a Broadway show, or that electric moment of anticipation and expectation before
a riot.
That moment, in the form of a making a life changing
decision and acting on it, is the subject of the album's most personal song,
"New Town Velocity." Marr has said in interviews it's about the day
he decided to leave school and pursue his bliss as a musician, damn the consequences.
"The Messenger" is full of the vitality that comes
with finding one's voice, as both a singer and as a solo songwriter.
Intelligent phrasing, belief in the lyric and sincerity in the delivery
characterize Marr's capable singing. If you're wondering why it took the
youthful 49 year old self-described "band animal" to go full solo, the
answer is in the question: how soon is now?
Google News
Labels: British rock, Johnny Marr, rock music, Rock's Back Pages, the Smiths
Friday, June 29, 2012
Neil Young's Visible Republic
by Wayne Robins
Neil Young and Crazy Horse: "Americana" (Reprise)
There's always a method to Neil Young's madness, even on his most prosaic projects. Who would have thought that the eardrum-puncturing solo guitar project "Le Noise" would be at the center of his third Jonathan Demme-directed full-length film ("Journeys") a road movie that takes up back to Omemee, the town in north Ontario that left us helpless, helpless, helpless?
"Americana"(Reprise) brings us all back to our childhood homes or getaways. In the days before rural TV, after dinner entertainment at my grandparents' summer cottage next to the Shawangunk Kill in the foothills of the Catskills would consist of the family singing off-key but together to "Oh Susannah" and "Clementine," the first two songs of "Americana," a collection of 19th and 20th century folk, pop and patriotic songs, by Neil Young and Crazy Horse. These songs, as well as Woody Guthrie's "This Land is Your Land" (straightforward, though with the more confrontational lyrics from Guthrie's original manuscript), "Wayfarin' Stranger" (loyal to the Burl Ives rendition) and "Tom Dula" (the same lyrics as those in the peppy No. 1 Kingston Trio hit, "Tom Dooley") are so well-known that they're kind of an offset to the "lost" treasures that were run up the flagpole of Greil Marcus' "Invisible Republic." This is Neil Young's "Visible Republic," with amusing, illuminating twists. The feedback that introduces "Oh Susannah" lets you know this isn't grandma's hootenanny. Young's curatorial song notes tell us the melody and arrangement of this Stephen Foster song were taken from a 1963 recording by The Big Three, which consisted of Tim Rose, Mama Cass Elliot and Jim Hendricks. (You can hear The Big 3 version on the self-titled album on Spotify; it is called "The Banjo Song.") Such arrangements—the immediate precursor of folk-rock—provided the template for the "Americana" album. The Big Three's version is aggressive but still acoustic. Young and Crazy Horse amp it up until the guitar solo sounds like primo late 1960s Santana.
The notes—difficult to read because of the tiny font in the CD booklet—offer an occasional sly window into Young's often opaque strategies. It's doubtful that Young is just showing off his scholarly acumen when he notes that "Oh Susannah" was first performed on September 11, 1847; it's the 9/11 coincidence that grabs attention. The arrangement of "Tom Dula" comes from The Squires, Young's Winnipeg surf-rock-plus group circa 1963. And "High Flyin' Bird," which many associate with Richie Havens, notes the 1964 version of the Billy Edd Wheeler song performed by a group called The Company, with singer Stephen Stills. The song was already familiar to Young, as it also came from the repertory of The Squires.
Whether coincidence or not, a cluster of cited songs come from 1957-1958. "Travel On" stems from Billy Grammer's 1958 version. The Kingston Trio's "Tom Dooley" was a No. 1 pop hit in 1958, as was another song on "Americana," the furthest, most satisfying reach of all. I asked my friend Alan Grossinger, an expert in the popular music of the 1950s, if he'd heard the "Americana" version of this song—one of our childhood favorites—which I described to him as "one of the great protest songs about race and discriminatory hiring practices." Grossinger couldn't bite on that clue, so I had to reveal the answer: "Get A Job," by the Silhouettes.
Recorded in 1957, "Get A Job" hit number one in January 1958. The 60s doo-wop revival group Sha-Na-Na took its name from some of the so-called nonsense syllables. The song, composed by the group members, is about the difficulty of finding meaningful employment in an economy with a huge gap between the haves and the have-nots. Young's choice to record this (loose but respectful) may be meant to draw comparisons to the 2012 economy, but there is a clear distinction. The Silhouettes, in their satirical way, were expressing the frustration of black America at a time when black America's frustrations were just barely registering on the national consciousness. It's Young's generous definition of "folk" music that allows him to include "Get A Job," as well as Odetta's "Gallows Pole," which may have first been heard on her 1957 live album, "At the Gate of Horn." The connection between Odetta and the Silhouettes wasn't understood then. It's not understood by many now, but as always, Young gets it.
The closing song, "God Save the Queen," makes some people cranky, for different reasons. The red- white and blue re•ac•tion•ary part of Young's fan base may wonder why he's singing what is essentially England's national anthem. But it's also a nod to the Young's Canadian heritage and that country's ties to the British Commonwealth. (Quebec excepted, of course.) It is also the melody of "My Country 'Tis of Thee," which is a kind of alternate U.S. national anthem. Young and Crazy Horse morph from the former to the latter—it begins as "God Save" and ends as "My Country," illustrating the continually evolving folk process that it the whole idea of "Americana." Many of us would have preferred the Sex Pistols' "God Save the Queen," which Young and Crazy Horse are long overdue in covering. Perhaps it will be the grand finale of Young and Crazy Horse's fall tour with the Patti Smith Group, with all hands, and all versions, on stage.
Google News
Neil Young and Crazy Horse: "Americana" (Reprise)
There's always a method to Neil Young's madness, even on his most prosaic projects. Who would have thought that the eardrum-puncturing solo guitar project "Le Noise" would be at the center of his third Jonathan Demme-directed full-length film ("Journeys") a road movie that takes up back to Omemee, the town in north Ontario that left us helpless, helpless, helpless?
"Americana"(Reprise) brings us all back to our childhood homes or getaways. In the days before rural TV, after dinner entertainment at my grandparents' summer cottage next to the Shawangunk Kill in the foothills of the Catskills would consist of the family singing off-key but together to "Oh Susannah" and "Clementine," the first two songs of "Americana," a collection of 19th and 20th century folk, pop and patriotic songs, by Neil Young and Crazy Horse. These songs, as well as Woody Guthrie's "This Land is Your Land" (straightforward, though with the more confrontational lyrics from Guthrie's original manuscript), "Wayfarin' Stranger" (loyal to the Burl Ives rendition) and "Tom Dula" (the same lyrics as those in the peppy No. 1 Kingston Trio hit, "Tom Dooley") are so well-known that they're kind of an offset to the "lost" treasures that were run up the flagpole of Greil Marcus' "Invisible Republic." This is Neil Young's "Visible Republic," with amusing, illuminating twists. The feedback that introduces "Oh Susannah" lets you know this isn't grandma's hootenanny. Young's curatorial song notes tell us the melody and arrangement of this Stephen Foster song were taken from a 1963 recording by The Big Three, which consisted of Tim Rose, Mama Cass Elliot and Jim Hendricks. (You can hear The Big 3 version on the self-titled album on Spotify; it is called "The Banjo Song.") Such arrangements—the immediate precursor of folk-rock—provided the template for the "Americana" album. The Big Three's version is aggressive but still acoustic. Young and Crazy Horse amp it up until the guitar solo sounds like primo late 1960s Santana.
The notes—difficult to read because of the tiny font in the CD booklet—offer an occasional sly window into Young's often opaque strategies. It's doubtful that Young is just showing off his scholarly acumen when he notes that "Oh Susannah" was first performed on September 11, 1847; it's the 9/11 coincidence that grabs attention. The arrangement of "Tom Dula" comes from The Squires, Young's Winnipeg surf-rock-plus group circa 1963. And "High Flyin' Bird," which many associate with Richie Havens, notes the 1964 version of the Billy Edd Wheeler song performed by a group called The Company, with singer Stephen Stills. The song was already familiar to Young, as it also came from the repertory of The Squires.
Whether coincidence or not, a cluster of cited songs come from 1957-1958. "Travel On" stems from Billy Grammer's 1958 version. The Kingston Trio's "Tom Dooley" was a No. 1 pop hit in 1958, as was another song on "Americana," the furthest, most satisfying reach of all. I asked my friend Alan Grossinger, an expert in the popular music of the 1950s, if he'd heard the "Americana" version of this song—one of our childhood favorites—which I described to him as "one of the great protest songs about race and discriminatory hiring practices." Grossinger couldn't bite on that clue, so I had to reveal the answer: "Get A Job," by the Silhouettes.
Recorded in 1957, "Get A Job" hit number one in January 1958. The 60s doo-wop revival group Sha-Na-Na took its name from some of the so-called nonsense syllables. The song, composed by the group members, is about the difficulty of finding meaningful employment in an economy with a huge gap between the haves and the have-nots. Young's choice to record this (loose but respectful) may be meant to draw comparisons to the 2012 economy, but there is a clear distinction. The Silhouettes, in their satirical way, were expressing the frustration of black America at a time when black America's frustrations were just barely registering on the national consciousness. It's Young's generous definition of "folk" music that allows him to include "Get A Job," as well as Odetta's "Gallows Pole," which may have first been heard on her 1957 live album, "At the Gate of Horn." The connection between Odetta and the Silhouettes wasn't understood then. It's not understood by many now, but as always, Young gets it.
The closing song, "God Save the Queen," makes some people cranky, for different reasons. The red- white and blue re•ac•tion•ary part of Young's fan base may wonder why he's singing what is essentially England's national anthem. But it's also a nod to the Young's Canadian heritage and that country's ties to the British Commonwealth. (Quebec excepted, of course.) It is also the melody of "My Country 'Tis of Thee," which is a kind of alternate U.S. national anthem. Young and Crazy Horse morph from the former to the latter—it begins as "God Save" and ends as "My Country," illustrating the continually evolving folk process that it the whole idea of "Americana." Many of us would have preferred the Sex Pistols' "God Save the Queen," which Young and Crazy Horse are long overdue in covering. Perhaps it will be the grand finale of Young and Crazy Horse's fall tour with the Patti Smith Group, with all hands, and all versions, on stage.
Google News
Labels: Americana, Crazy Horse, Neil Young, rock criticism, rock music, Rock's Back Pages
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Wayne's 12 and 12 Best Albums of 2011
by Wayne Robins
Every day for the last month as I sipped my coffee, I have thought, today is the day. The day that I will collect, write and post my 10 best albums of 2011. I had done this just about every year since the early 1970s. First, as an early contributor to Robert Christgau's Village Voice Pazz and Jop (a typically witty Christgavian solution to the unreliability of categorization) Critic's Poll, and probably to Creem end of year lists as well. Then, beginning in 1976 or 1977, and for the next 18 or 19 years at Newsday and New York Newsday, I ran my own 10 best albums list and solicited responses for a readers' poll. Compiling the readers' poll was a favorite activity, as it bonded me with those who were engaged with my enthusiasms and (average) three day a week critiques of pop, or jop, music.
Many listeners still identify, as I do, with the album or CD or full-length MP3 as the eminent measure of artistic achievement in pop music. Many don't, as near universal access to an expanding universe of free or almost free music streams has made each person their own DJ and A&R executive, able to listen to songs of their own choosing on demand. This limits the element of accidental discovery. It also makes it evident that in 2011, the three dominant elements required for breathing on this planet are nitrogen, oxygen, and Adele's "Rolling in the Deep."
Anyway, enough prelude.
Number one: The Janks: "Hands of Time."
So who are the Janks, and why is "Hands of Time" number one? A trio from Los Angeles consisting of siblings Dylan Zmed and Zach Zmed, and Garth Herberg. (All play guitars and keyboards and sing; check out the acoustic version of "Dead Man" on Jam in the Van.com.)
"Dead Man" is the most arresting song on "Hands of Time": It has some of the soul-piercing wail of Rick Danko and Richard Manuel. Kate Mossman of the must-read U.K. magazine The Word may have been thinking of "Dead Man" when she wrote that the Janks sound as if "The Band were singing at you from the pages of a John Updike novel." (Actually, that is my life Mossman is describing, but that's OK: I'm not unique in that regard.)
The Janks can also power it up, as on "Rat Racers," which updates Rush and Queen with just enough bombast to make the point. There are also of hints of "Countdown to Ecstasy"-era Steely Dan in "Separation From Your Body," and echo whispers of Fleet Foxes CSN revivialism in "Echo Whispers." Songwriting, musicianship, singing, and spirit: It's all here.
2. Dave Alvin: Eleven Eleven. Progressive working man's blues ("Gary, Indiana 1959"; "Harlan County Line"); California history ("Murrietta's Head"); great moments in rock history ("Johnny Ace is Dead"); and even a reconciliation ("What's Up With Your Brother?") with Blasters' co-founder Phil Alvin, all show Alvin's continually evolving mastery of musical storytelling. The guitar playing is pretty good, too.
3. Caitlin Rose: "Own Side Now." She grew up in a musical Nashville family (mom Liz Rose writes with Taylor Swift; dad Johnny Rose is an accomplished road warrior and music biz veteran). But 23-year-old Caitlin Rose defies easy categorization, as if she absorbed every piece of music she ever heard at home, and using only the best ingredients, figured out how to roll her own. A recording a few years ago of the Rolling Stones' "Dead Flowers" offered a developmental glimpse. On "Own Side Now," she smokes, she drinks, she gets her heart broken, she gets even. As a result, she has been the toast of not just bohemian East Nashville, where she lives, but similar enclaves from Portland to London. "Shanghai Cigarettes" is the killer app, but all the songs are so smartly crafted that she reminds me of a still-developing Guy Clark.
4. The Decemberists: "The King is Dead." Colin Meloy has gotten significant acclaim for "Wildwood," his first book of young adult fantasy fiction. His songwriting is blossoming too on "The King is Dead," perhaps the Portland band's most consistent, mainstream album. Peter Buck of R.E.M. appears on three tracks, and it doesn't seem to be accidental that "Down By the Water" and "This is Why We Fight" could have been great lost R.E.M. songs from the 1980s, and pretty much surpassed anything on R.E.M.'s 2011 farewell album "Collapse Into Now."
5. Paul Simon: "So Beautiful or So What?" Good news for the sexagenarians among us worried about diminishing capabilities: 70-year-old Paul Simon's 2011 album is his best since "Graceland." The wit is mordant, especially when the songs deal with mortality and belief: "The Afterlife," in which the hereafter is drawn as a bureaucracy akin to the motor vehicle bureau, is a Louisiana shuffle that had me wondering, "Is that a Randy Newman song?"
6. Danger Mouse and Danielle Luppi: "Rome." Spaghetti western instrumentals share space with off-center but delightfully dark cameo appearances by Norah Jones ("Black") and Jack White ("Two Against One").
7. Wilco: "The Whole Love." Creatively restless yet sounding at peace with itself, Wilco's variety on "The Whole Love" requires time to absorb. The opening seven minute art-rock ramble "Art of Almost" gives way to tightly focused pop songs ("Dawned On Me"); the closer is a 12-minute spiritual folk-rock excursion, "One Sunday Morning (Song for Jane Smiley's Boyfriend)." Fans of pure pop will appreciate the version of Nick Lowe's "I Love My Label" on the deluxe edition; fans of anthemic rock will love the kinetic energy of "Standing O," a song about not living up to expectations that wildly exceeds expectations.
8. Jay-Z and Kanye West: "Watch the Throne." Speaking of expectations, this could have been a mess, a Kobe Bryant meets LeBron James battle of ball hogs with bodyguards. Though it rarely reaches the level of their best solo work, the high-level of consistency and occasional moment of transcendence ("Otis," sampling "Try A Little Tenderness") must be applauded.
9. Miguel Zenon: "Alma Adentro: The Puerto Rican Songbook." Zenon's third album exploring the artful, melodic side of his Puerto Rican musical heritage is at turns spirited, meditative, lush and forceful. The alto saxophonist's quartet is augmented by a 10-piece wood and brass ensemble—flutes, clarinets, French and English horns, oboe and bassoon—conducted with elegance and restraint by Guillermo Klein.
10. Tony Bennett: "Duets II." There's something miraculous about the chemistry between Bennett and Lady Gaga on the swinging opener "The Lady is a Tramp." But it's quite real, as Gay Talese's New Yorker portrait of that recording session attests. Nothing else quite hits that mark—I would love an entire album of Bennett and Gaga—but very little falls short, thanks to the blue-chip song selection and deft arrangements. You don't need to have an opinion about John Mayer, Michael Buble, Josh Groban, Queen Latifah or Sheryl Crow to know that whatever the track, the 85 year old Bennett remains the master of classic American songs.
11. Poncho Sanchez and Terence Blanchard: "Chano Y Dizzy." The birth of Latin jazz in mid-1940s New York is celebrated by conga player Sanchez and trumpeter Blanchard in a tribute to the music of Chano Pozo and Dizzy Gillespie; it looks forward as enthusiastically as it looks back.
12. P.J. Harvey: "Let England Shake." And shake it she does, in her best album in the nearly 20 years since her 1992 debut, "Dry."
Here are 12 more records that I enjoyed quite a bit in 2011: The War on Drugs: "Slave Ambient"; Ryan Adams: "Ashes and Shake"; Fleet Foxes, "Helplessness Blues"; Gregg Allman, "Low Country Blues"; Alison Krauss and Union Station, "Paper Airplane"; Lady Gaga, "Born This Way"; Acrylics, "Lives and Treasure"; My Morning Jacket, "Circuital"; Radiohead: "King of Limbs"; Timber Timbre, "Creep On Creepin' On"; Red Hot Chili Peppers: "I'm With You"; Vijay Iyer with Prasanna and Nitin Mitta: "Tirtha."
Google News
Every day for the last month as I sipped my coffee, I have thought, today is the day. The day that I will collect, write and post my 10 best albums of 2011. I had done this just about every year since the early 1970s. First, as an early contributor to Robert Christgau's Village Voice Pazz and Jop (a typically witty Christgavian solution to the unreliability of categorization) Critic's Poll, and probably to Creem end of year lists as well. Then, beginning in 1976 or 1977, and for the next 18 or 19 years at Newsday and New York Newsday, I ran my own 10 best albums list and solicited responses for a readers' poll. Compiling the readers' poll was a favorite activity, as it bonded me with those who were engaged with my enthusiasms and (average) three day a week critiques of pop, or jop, music.
Many listeners still identify, as I do, with the album or CD or full-length MP3 as the eminent measure of artistic achievement in pop music. Many don't, as near universal access to an expanding universe of free or almost free music streams has made each person their own DJ and A&R executive, able to listen to songs of their own choosing on demand. This limits the element of accidental discovery. It also makes it evident that in 2011, the three dominant elements required for breathing on this planet are nitrogen, oxygen, and Adele's "Rolling in the Deep."
Anyway, enough prelude.
Number one: The Janks: "Hands of Time."
So who are the Janks, and why is "Hands of Time" number one? A trio from Los Angeles consisting of siblings Dylan Zmed and Zach Zmed, and Garth Herberg. (All play guitars and keyboards and sing; check out the acoustic version of "Dead Man" on Jam in the Van.com.)
"Dead Man" is the most arresting song on "Hands of Time": It has some of the soul-piercing wail of Rick Danko and Richard Manuel. Kate Mossman of the must-read U.K. magazine The Word may have been thinking of "Dead Man" when she wrote that the Janks sound as if "The Band were singing at you from the pages of a John Updike novel." (Actually, that is my life Mossman is describing, but that's OK: I'm not unique in that regard.)
The Janks can also power it up, as on "Rat Racers," which updates Rush and Queen with just enough bombast to make the point. There are also of hints of "Countdown to Ecstasy"-era Steely Dan in "Separation From Your Body," and echo whispers of Fleet Foxes CSN revivialism in "Echo Whispers." Songwriting, musicianship, singing, and spirit: It's all here.
2. Dave Alvin: Eleven Eleven. Progressive working man's blues ("Gary, Indiana 1959"; "Harlan County Line"); California history ("Murrietta's Head"); great moments in rock history ("Johnny Ace is Dead"); and even a reconciliation ("What's Up With Your Brother?") with Blasters' co-founder Phil Alvin, all show Alvin's continually evolving mastery of musical storytelling. The guitar playing is pretty good, too.
3. Caitlin Rose: "Own Side Now." She grew up in a musical Nashville family (mom Liz Rose writes with Taylor Swift; dad Johnny Rose is an accomplished road warrior and music biz veteran). But 23-year-old Caitlin Rose defies easy categorization, as if she absorbed every piece of music she ever heard at home, and using only the best ingredients, figured out how to roll her own. A recording a few years ago of the Rolling Stones' "Dead Flowers" offered a developmental glimpse. On "Own Side Now," she smokes, she drinks, she gets her heart broken, she gets even. As a result, she has been the toast of not just bohemian East Nashville, where she lives, but similar enclaves from Portland to London. "Shanghai Cigarettes" is the killer app, but all the songs are so smartly crafted that she reminds me of a still-developing Guy Clark.
4. The Decemberists: "The King is Dead." Colin Meloy has gotten significant acclaim for "Wildwood," his first book of young adult fantasy fiction. His songwriting is blossoming too on "The King is Dead," perhaps the Portland band's most consistent, mainstream album. Peter Buck of R.E.M. appears on three tracks, and it doesn't seem to be accidental that "Down By the Water" and "This is Why We Fight" could have been great lost R.E.M. songs from the 1980s, and pretty much surpassed anything on R.E.M.'s 2011 farewell album "Collapse Into Now."
5. Paul Simon: "So Beautiful or So What?" Good news for the sexagenarians among us worried about diminishing capabilities: 70-year-old Paul Simon's 2011 album is his best since "Graceland." The wit is mordant, especially when the songs deal with mortality and belief: "The Afterlife," in which the hereafter is drawn as a bureaucracy akin to the motor vehicle bureau, is a Louisiana shuffle that had me wondering, "Is that a Randy Newman song?"
6. Danger Mouse and Danielle Luppi: "Rome." Spaghetti western instrumentals share space with off-center but delightfully dark cameo appearances by Norah Jones ("Black") and Jack White ("Two Against One").
7. Wilco: "The Whole Love." Creatively restless yet sounding at peace with itself, Wilco's variety on "The Whole Love" requires time to absorb. The opening seven minute art-rock ramble "Art of Almost" gives way to tightly focused pop songs ("Dawned On Me"); the closer is a 12-minute spiritual folk-rock excursion, "One Sunday Morning (Song for Jane Smiley's Boyfriend)." Fans of pure pop will appreciate the version of Nick Lowe's "I Love My Label" on the deluxe edition; fans of anthemic rock will love the kinetic energy of "Standing O," a song about not living up to expectations that wildly exceeds expectations.
8. Jay-Z and Kanye West: "Watch the Throne." Speaking of expectations, this could have been a mess, a Kobe Bryant meets LeBron James battle of ball hogs with bodyguards. Though it rarely reaches the level of their best solo work, the high-level of consistency and occasional moment of transcendence ("Otis," sampling "Try A Little Tenderness") must be applauded.
9. Miguel Zenon: "Alma Adentro: The Puerto Rican Songbook." Zenon's third album exploring the artful, melodic side of his Puerto Rican musical heritage is at turns spirited, meditative, lush and forceful. The alto saxophonist's quartet is augmented by a 10-piece wood and brass ensemble—flutes, clarinets, French and English horns, oboe and bassoon—conducted with elegance and restraint by Guillermo Klein.
10. Tony Bennett: "Duets II." There's something miraculous about the chemistry between Bennett and Lady Gaga on the swinging opener "The Lady is a Tramp." But it's quite real, as Gay Talese's New Yorker portrait of that recording session attests. Nothing else quite hits that mark—I would love an entire album of Bennett and Gaga—but very little falls short, thanks to the blue-chip song selection and deft arrangements. You don't need to have an opinion about John Mayer, Michael Buble, Josh Groban, Queen Latifah or Sheryl Crow to know that whatever the track, the 85 year old Bennett remains the master of classic American songs.
11. Poncho Sanchez and Terence Blanchard: "Chano Y Dizzy." The birth of Latin jazz in mid-1940s New York is celebrated by conga player Sanchez and trumpeter Blanchard in a tribute to the music of Chano Pozo and Dizzy Gillespie; it looks forward as enthusiastically as it looks back.
12. P.J. Harvey: "Let England Shake." And shake it she does, in her best album in the nearly 20 years since her 1992 debut, "Dry."
Here are 12 more records that I enjoyed quite a bit in 2011: The War on Drugs: "Slave Ambient"; Ryan Adams: "Ashes and Shake"; Fleet Foxes, "Helplessness Blues"; Gregg Allman, "Low Country Blues"; Alison Krauss and Union Station, "Paper Airplane"; Lady Gaga, "Born This Way"; Acrylics, "Lives and Treasure"; My Morning Jacket, "Circuital"; Radiohead: "King of Limbs"; Timber Timbre, "Creep On Creepin' On"; Red Hot Chili Peppers: "I'm With You"; Vijay Iyer with Prasanna and Nitin Mitta: "Tirtha."
Google News
Labels: 10 best lists, best of 2011, Janks, Jay-Z, Kanye, Lady Gaga, rock music, Rock's Back Pages, Wilco
