December 7–14, 2000
music
It Came from a Box…
 |
 |
|
|
|
photo: Jessica Weber |
|
Brain in a Box
(Rhino, 5 CDs)
The packaging on this sci-fi set is so nifty, the music within is almost incidental. Brain In A Box is a heavy seven-inch cube made of metal and silvery cardboard with lenticular pictures ("3-D" that seem to move as the viewer does) of a floating brain on the front and sides. Inside are five discs and a glossy, ultra-illustrated "Brain In A Book" in foam slots. Discs one and two collect movie themes (from Rocky Horror, The Day The Earth Stood Still, The Matrix) and TV Themes (like The Twilight Zone, The X-Files). A more thorough theme compilation came out last year: Sci-Fi’s Greatest Hits series on TVT. But Brain in a Box really sets itself apart with its next three CDs. "Pop" includes the bizarrely humorous "Waiting for the UFOs" (pronounced you-foes) by Graham Parker and the Rumour, and the dreamy "Have You Seen The Saucers" by Jefferson Airplane, which paints a pessimistic hippie’s view of the future: "American garbage dumped in space, no room left for brotherhood!" They Might Be Giants’ "For Science," a previously unsung B-side about becoming an alien love slave for the good of mankind, is right at home in this eclectic freak show. The "Novelty" disc is more of the same: "Beep! Beep" by Louis Prima, "We’re Going UFO’ing" by Jimmy Durante. The "Incidental/Lounge" disc is mostly groovy background music for your local cantina (with the possible exception of Leonard Nimoy’s rambling spoken word on "Alien"). Between some of the 113 songs, Rhino has tossed in well-chosen audio vignettes from the cold war era’s silliest sci-fi movies and shows. Still, this comp is as much of an ode to space-pop culture as it is an attack on space-age kitsch.
The Funk Box
(Hip-O, 4 CDs)
Since the release of the James Brown box Star Time, anthologizing funk has become a cottage industry. Perhaps the most vital of the ensuing collections has been Rhino Records’ In Yo’ Face series. But for all its delectable cuts, the five discs left just the slightest taste of soap. It’s probably because Rhino included mostly single versions, and chose lots of well-known songs we’ve all heard used to hock this and that. But funk, with its rubber band rhythms and built-in innuendo, is dirty music — nastier than the raunchiest Lil’ Kim track. Unlike its predecessor, soul music (which at least pretended to be about "love"), funk is about screwing. The Funk Box’s selection of tracks, like The Blackbyrds’ "Do It, Fluid," The Ohio Players’ "Skin Tight," Johnny "Guitar" Watson’s "Superman Lover" and Patrice Rushen’s "The Hump" — none of which appeared on In Yo’ Face — spells it out pretty clearly. Make no mistake, there is plenty of overlap between both sets; any funk collection worth its salt must have James, Curtis, Chaka and George. But where both In Yo’ Face and The Funk Box start their respective disc ones with James Brown’s "Get Up I Feel Like Being a Sex Machine," Funk Box boasts the full-length single and then follows it up with the unedited, undubbed 1970 version of James’ "Give it Up Or Turnit A Loose." This is a collection that feels like it was compiled by a fan rather than a historian, including lots of unheralded gems, 12-inch mixes, insightful liner notes (and velvet packaging) to frame the essentials. And you’ll be better fan for it.
Electric Light Orchestra
Flashback
(Epic/Legacy 3 CDs)
Jeff Lynne and ELO rarely went for serious orchestral rock in the vein of The Moody Blues’ "Nights in White Satin." Instead, Lynne made certain that a vein of sweet, soulful and addictive pop ran through his body of work. Discovery (1979) pushed pop to the extreme with 4/4 disco beats enslaving almost every song. But it was all self-effacing, self-aware fun; it was "disco-very," after all. Lynne loaded the decks with plenty of oohs, woohs, rammalammas and sha-la-las, but he also managed to mix in a portion of production genius. His respected career as a producer includes work with Roy Orbison, Tom Petty, George Harrison, Paul McCartney, even the reformed Beatles on "Free as a Bird." Flashback is the second box set to reexamine the work of one of the world’s most underrated pop bands, and I can’t get it out of my head. No "Kuiama" this time, but there is "Calling America." Word on the street is that Jeff finally found the technology to finish a few tracks not included on 1990’s box, Afterglow. Plus, Lynne re-records and sings "Xanadu," made famous, of course, by Olivia Newton John. Rolling Stone’s David Wild keeps his liner notes light and respectful, and comments from Lynne to accompany all 53 tracks are also a good addition. Beyond a doubt, ELO’s music is fun, but it’s not without substance. Through dark sunglasses, Jeff Lynne often bemoans an unrealized utopia, while that emblematic ELO spaceship lifts off, looking for better worlds, still holding tight to a dream once made real by Chuck Berry, Phil Spector and the Beatles. Strange magic, yo, a living thing.
|
 |
|
|
Los Lobos
El Cancionero: Mas y Mas
(Rhino, 4 CDs)
You wouldn’t know it from looking at them — five dads who play gigs at state fairs and on the set of Sesame Street — but Los Lobos are a restless bunch. This set is a dizzying experience, as the Wolves slice ’n’ dice their way through Mexican folk, Tex-Mex, rockabilly, garage-rock and R&B, leading to the evocative dreamscapes of their recent work. Early good-time grooves like "We’re Gonna Rock" and "Let’s Say Goodnight" are tempered by "Will the Wolf Survive," "A Matter of Time" and "River of Fools," where the songwriting team of David Hidalgo and Louie Pérez rely on classically sculpted, country-inflected riffs and aching melodies to capture, diary-like, the struggles of the Barrio. To hear the band tell it in the box’s liner notes, the success of "La Bamba" in ’87 threatened to straitjacket their image and cloudy their vision. Fortunately, they persevered, leading to the immense artistic achievement of Kiko (1992). By discs three and four, Lobos are everywhere, leaving not only soundtrack and tribute album contributions in their wake, but also side projects (the Latin Playboys, Los Super Seven, Houndog, Cesar Rosas’ solo work), all of which are generously sampled here. The many cover tunes that crowd the set help explain how unbelievably eclectic this band can be: from the smoldering version of James Brown’s "Try Me" to a lamenting Johnny Thunders cover, "Alone in a Crowd," to a solemn reading of Richard Thompson’s "Down Where the Drunkards Roll." Forgive them their occasional missteps: jam-band overkill, syrupy sentiment, allowing Sheryl Crow — whose soulless guest mewling drags down a live cover of "What’s Going On" — onstage. When many roots-inclined rock bands seem only interested in country, Los Lobos throw their arms out to everything, with enthusiasm and chops to spare.
Laurie Anderson
Talk Normal: The Laurie Anderson Anthology
(Warner Archives/Rhino, 2 CDs)
With a new album scheduled for released on Nonesuch next spring, Laurie Anderson takes stock of her seven Warner Bros. releases. Talk Normal is a most straightforward compilation. Its two discs have no previously unreleased outtakes, remixes or rare b-sides — just 35 tracks presented chronologically, from 1982’s "O Superman (For Massenet)," a Vocoder ode to Mother in the age of the answering machine, to 1995’s "The End of the World," Anderson’s stripped-down sketch of her grandmother’s last thoughts. It’s interesting to note how she sheds her electronic cloak as her lyrics become more focused; early strings of one-liners and layers of off-kilter percussion give way to single-topic tales and Brian Eno’s minimal production. In subject and sound, Anderson generally avoids sounding dated, anticipating suburban sprawl in "From the Air" and obsessing about technology, travel and gender dysphoria everywhere else. More attention has been paid to her performance-art roots, tape-rigged violins and Vaselined hair than to her deadpan wit, evident on "The Ouija Board," when she learns that in her most recent incarnations, she had been "hundreds and hundreds of rabbis." Throughout, she tries on many voices: authoritarian and ethereal; sometimes singing, often speaking, and on "The Day the Devil," one of her most memorable turns, she’s a lucre-loving Lucifer backed by a gospel choir. As an Anderson primer, the set sparks few complaints. Even Gillian Gaar’s informative but not revelatory liner notes are calculated to appeal to casual fans. Anyone with more than a passing interest would be better served by picking up Big Science and Strange Angels, but Talk Normal is a nice introduction to an offbeat performer.
Johnnie Taylor
Lifetime: A Retrospective of Soul, Blues, & Gospel 1956 - 1999
(Stax, 3 CDs)
When vocalist Johnnie Taylor died earlier this year, heaven found itself a new, funky saint. Whether you find him in the sanctified doo wop of his earliest years (Taylor followed Sam Cooke in the The Soul Stirrers), using his wizened cackle amidst the Stax sound, or getting shoulder-to-shoulder soulful on "Disco Lady," Taylor was a blues-angel of mercy mercy mercy! And he only got better as he got older. Start with the ’66-’67 era: Taylor’s emotive twang on "Just The One (I’ve Been Looking For)," the go-go swing of the previously unissued "Sixteen Tons," the disgust of "Somebody’s Sleeping In My Bed" and the raw-nerved "Blues In The Night." Taylor lays back into the bosom of Stax house cats (white hot guitarist Steve Cropper, keyboardists Booker T and Issac Hayes, crackling drummer Al Jackson Jr.) and a snap-back brass section with an all-too-familiar sexuality. His finest sounds were created with Detroit songwriter/producer Don Davis. Taylor topped off his dirty R&B with a shiny soul ambience, a sharp tone that cut Kinsu-like through the James Brown manqué of "Who’s Making Love," the dense background vocals of "Mr. Nobody Is Somebody Now" and the arching horn of "Love Bones." By the time of disco, Taylor was sliding into liquid loverman mode — the smooth guitars of "Free," the organ fueled "Running Out Of Lies" — as if he was slipping into a hot bath with his lady and a bottle of champagne. Hot stuff for these cold winter nights is Lifetime.
 |
|
|
|
Sam Cooke
The Man Who Invented Soul
(RCA, 4 CDs)
If you haven’t fallen in love with Sam Cooke’s voice, you’ve probably never heard it. Blest with a tenor as pure as the smoothest of crooners, Cooke brought gospel fervor into the pop marketplace in the late ’50s and early ’60s. Often saddled with mediocre songs calculated to appeal to white audiences, Cooke made the best of bad material, fighting slick arrangements and turning to rapturous scat singing when words simply weren’t enough. Even on originals like "You Send Me" and "(What A) Wonderful World," Cooke limits himself to simple, repeated phrases, the better to focus on pure sound. Because Cooke recorded so much that was simply beneath him, RCA’s completist approach doesn’t necessarily present him in the best light. And where there’s too much in the middle, there’s nothing from either end of Cooke’s career: the gospel he sung with the Soul Stirrers before he went pop, nor the elaborate, sweeping music he made in the last year of his life. (He died in 1964.) Especially sad is the omission (due to licensing issues) of Cooke’s much-covered civil rights anthem "A Change Is Gonna Come," which inexplicably seems to be out of print on any release. But the set does close with a corker of a fourth disc, including his 1963 album Nightbeat — the first where Cooke, a pioneering record mogul and businessman, fully took the production reins as well — and the landmark Live at the Harlem Square Club, a scorching performance from a Florida club on the "chitlin circuit" which shows how much Cooke had to give that white audiences of the time never suspected.
Charlie Parker
The Complete Savoy & Dial Studio Recordings 1944-1948
(Savoy Jazz/Atlantic, 8 CDs)
Encompassing four years, two record labels and 215 takes, this handsome set ambitiously assembles a near-complete survey of Early Bird. This is some of the most celebrated material in jazz; examined as a body of work, it easily stands as a singular moment in American cultural history. The saga begins with Parker’s first significant recording date — with the Tiny Grimes Quintet — and proceeds through the subsequent sessions in chronological order. Within each session the master takes appear together, followed by alternates and incomplete takes — a judgement call by reissue producer Orrin Keepnews that only diehards (or blowhards) will lament. Why quibble in the face of this music? Here we have Bird’s best moments ("KoKo," "A Night in Tunisia," "Parker’s Mood") his worst moments (the inglorious "Lover Man" date of 1946), and a few lesser-known gems. It’s especially illuminating to hear Parker in the company of older musicians; a 1945 session with the Benny Goodman rhythm section illustrates the affinities between bop and swing, as does a 1947 date with the Erroll Garner Trio. Meanwhile, check out the supporting cast: Dizzy Gillespie soars, Max Roach sizzles, Miles Davis shines. But it’s Bird who gets the worm, repeatedly, throughout this set.
Rick Nelson
Legacy
(Capitol, 4 CDs)
If you’re incensed by the fact that your kids (or grandkids) love bland teenyboppers like Britney or ’N Sync or Ricky Martin, you can thank Rick Nelson, perhaps the first media-created teen idol. As Ricky on his parents’ television show Ozzie and Harriet in the mid ’50s, Rick made rock’n’roll safe for white America. But while the shelf-lives of teen steamers since (see Tiffany, Debbie Gibson or even Rick’s sons in Nelson) have rarely been longer than a hunk of processed cheese, Rick’s is a strange case. After breaking onto the scene with a lukewarm rendition of Fats Domino’s "I’m Walkin’," Rick’s penchant for dour, pensive and sometimes downright gloomy rockabilly began to take over. A yeoman singer and less-than-splendid guitar player (he left that task largely to Presley firebrand James Burton), Nelson didn’t write many of his own songs. What he’ll be remembered for are his treatments of eerily rocking tunes like "Lonesome Town" and Gene Pitney’s "Hello Mary Lou" (the stuff one imagines enthralled a young Chris Isaak), found in plentiful supply on the first two discs. Disc three shows Nelson getting deeper into the country music his heroes emerged from ("Night Train To Memphis"), late-’60s southern rock ("Look at Mary" with his Stone Canyon Band) and a couple, well, interesting forays into progressive rock (the Kansas-esque "Gypsy Pilot"). By disc four, it’s mostly downhill for Rick, with lots of tepid country and adult contemporary pap. Unless you grew up (and got boring) along with Rick, you’d probably be best served to invest in a collection that gets more in depth with his earlier work.
|
 |
|
|
Duochrome
Duochrome 7.0 Limited Edition
(Vital Cog, 1 CD, 5 Seven-inches)
The box and accompanying booklet (a limited edition of 70) are accurate-looking send-ups of the standard Microsoft Windows packaging, inserting the word "Indiesoft" in all the right places. Loud, jangly and occasionally bitter, Duochrome’s hardly the softest band in indie rock, but maybe they’re referring to their soft hearts. Aw. The design, like their song titles ("My Life As A Dumb Terminal," "20 Goto 10") are indicative of this non-electronica band’s apparent obsession with all things computerized. Inside you’ll find five of the earliest singles from this snarky New Brunswick, NJ, quartet’s seven-year history and a CD of stuff that was supposed to come out on vinyl in 1997, were it not for some snafus with little label DaDa. A bunch of these songs were already re-released on the band’s All Day I Dream About Sex CD (Vital Cog), but this set makes for an excellent and thorough crash course. Duochrome’s current sound is tight and slightly Britpoppy, sometimes breaking it up with some droney moments. But their earlier stuff is looser and more sarcastic, a bit more befitting of the 1995 tour diary included in the booklet which paints them as fun-loving slackers. Although the whole package reads like a band calling it quits, this nice little box set is simply signifying a turning point in their history, namely the departure of founding bassist Frank Bridges.
Stay tuned next week for reviews of boxes from Richard Pryor, Stax Records, The Harlem Renaissance, Johnny Cash, Jazzanova, Guided by Voices, Genesis, Aaron Copland and Johann Sebastian Bach, Ken Burns Jazz, Arhoolie Records and Broadside Records.
