Record Reviews
📝 2096 reviews| Artist | Title | Review |
|---|---|---|
| Phil Collins | Face Value | |
| Phil Collins | Testify | |
| John Coltrane | Coltrane | <p>This CD reissue, Coltrane, brings back the music originally released as First Trane. The classic of the set is the emotional and eerie "While My Lady Sleeps," but all six selections (including "Violets for Your Furs") are notable for tenor saxophonist John Coltrane's passionate solos. This was his first full session as a leader (as opposed to heading jam-session dates), and it also features either Mal Waldron or Red Garland on piano, bassist Paul Chambers, drummer Al "Tootie" Heath, and on some numbers trumpeter Johnny Splawn and baritonist Sahib Shihab. As with 'Trane's other Prestige sessions, this valuable music is also available in his huge box set; recommended in one form or another.</p><p>—<strong>Scott Yanow</strong></p> |
| John Coltrane | My Favorite Things | <p>This 1960 recording was a landmark album in John Coltrane's career, the first to introduce his quartet with pianist McCoy Tyner and drummer Elvin Jones and the first release on which he played soprano saxophone. It also provided him with a signature hit, as his new group conception came together wonderfully on the title track. It's an extended modal reworking in 6/4 time that brought the hypnotic pulsating quality of Indian music into jazz for the first time, with Coltrane's soprano wailing over the oscillating piano chords and pulsing drums. The unusual up-tempo version of Gershwin's "Summertime"is a heated example of Coltrane's "sheets of sound" approach to conventional changes, while "But Not for Me" receives a radical harmonic makeover. This is an excellent introduction to Coltrane's work.</p><p>—<strong>Stuart Broomer - Spotlight Reviews</strong></p><p>Although seemingly impossible to comprehend, this landmark jazz recording was made in less than three days. All the more remarkable is that the same sessions which yielded <em>My Favorite Things</em> would also inform a majority of the albums <em>Coltrane Plays the Blues</em>, <em>Coltrane's Sound</em>, and <em>Coltrane Legacy</em>. It is easy to understand the appeal that these sides continue to hold. The unforced, practically casual soloing styles of the assembled quartet — which includes Coltrane (soprano/tenor sax), McCoy Tyner (piano), Steve Davis (bass), and Elvin Jones (drums) — allow for tastefully executed passages à la the Miles Davis Quintet, a trait Coltrane no doubt honed during his tenure in that band. Each track of this album is a joy to revisit. The ultimate listenability may reside in this quartet's capacity to not be overwhelmed by the soloist. Likewise, they are able to push the grooves along surreptitiously and unfettered. For instance, the support that the trio — most notably Tyner — gives to Coltrane on the title track winds the melody in and around itself. However, instead of becoming entangled and directionless, these musicalsidebars simultaneously define the direction the song is taking. Asa soloist, the definitive soprano sax runs during the Cole Porter standard "Everytime We Say Goodbye" and tenor solos on "But Not for Me"easily establish Coltrane as a pioneer of both instruments.</p><p>—<strong>Lindsay Planer</strong></p> |
| John Coltrane | The Very Best Of John Coltrane | <p>Released in 2000, The Very Best of John Coltrane is hardly the first best-of collection by the seminal saxophonist, and you can bet certain that it won't be the last. Focusing on 'Trane's influential Atlantic output of the late '50s and early '60s, this CD shouldn't be confused with previous Best of John Coltrane collections from Pablo/Fantasy (Pablo 2405-417) or Atlantic (Atlantic 1541), although everything Atlantic chose for the latter can also be found on this collection, including "My Favorite Things," "Equinox," "Giant Steps," "Naima," "Cousin Mary," and "Central Park West." This CD, however, is more generous and also includes such gems as "Summertime" from My Favorite Things, "Mr. Syms" from Coltrane Sings the Blues, "My Shining Hour" from Coltrane Jazz, and "Body and Soul" from Coltrane's Sound. Seasoned Coltrane fans will already be familiar with these essential 1959 and 1960 recordings, so the person that Rhino obviously had in mind when it released this disc was the casual listener. All of Coltrane's Atlantic output is worth owning, and most of it is truly essential. But for those who have yet to experience the joys of Coltrane's Atlantic period and need a course in Introductory Coltrane 101, this CD would be a very rewarding and logical starting point.</p><p>—<strong>Alex Henderson</strong></p> |
| John Coltrane | Giant Steps | <p>History will undoubtedly enshrine this disc as a watershed the likes of which may never truly be appreciated. Giant Steps bore the double-edged sword of furthering the cause of the music as well as delivering it to an increasingly mainstream audience. Although this was John Coltrane's debut for Atlantic, he was concurrently performing and recording with Miles Davis. Within the space of less than three weeks, Coltrane would complete his work with Davis and company on another genre-defining disc, Kind of Blue, before commencing his efforts on this one. Coltrane (tenor sax) is flanked by essentially two different trios. Recording commenced in early May of 1959 with a pair of sessions that featured Tommy Flanagan (piano) and Art Taylor (drums), as well as Paul Chambers -- who was the only bandmember other than Coltrane to have performed on every date. When recording resumed in December of that year, Wynton Kelly (piano) and Jimmy Cobb (drums) were instated -- replicating the lineup featured on Kind of Blue, sans Miles Davis of course. At the heart of these recordings, however, is the laser-beam focus of Coltrane's tenor solos. All seven pieces issued on the original Giant Steps are likewise Coltrane compositions. He was, in essence, beginning to rewrite the jazz canon with material that would be centered on solos -- the 180-degree antithesis of the art form up to that point. These arrangements would create a place for the solo to become infinitely more compelling. This would culminate in a frenetic performance style that noted jazz journalist Ira Gitler accurately dubbed "sheets of sound." Coltrane's polytonal torrents extricate the amicable and otherwise cordial solos that had begun decaying the very exigency of the genre -- turning it into the equivalent of easy listening. He wastes no time as the disc's title track immediately indicates a progression from which there would be no looking back. Line upon line of highly cerebral improvisation snake between the melody and solos, practically fusing the two. The resolute intensity of "Countdown" does more to modernize jazz in 141 seconds than many artists do in their entire careers. Tellingly, the contrasting and ultimately pastoral "Naima" was the last tune to be recorded, and is the only track on the original long-player to feature the Kind of Blue quartet. What is lost in tempo is more than recouped in intrinsic melodic beauty. Both Giant Steps [Deluxe Edition] and the seven-disc Heavyweight Champion: The Complete Atlantic Recordings offer more comprehensive presentations of these sessions.</p><p>—<strong>Lindsay Planer</strong></p> |
| John Coltrane | Transcendence | <p>John Coltrane's 1961 to 1963 European tours have been available in various set configurations on numerous albums over the years, some legally licensed and some not. As a rule, these are fine shows, and this sequence (which may or may not be from a Stockholm show in 1961) is particularly well recorded, and every instrument, including McCoy Tyner's piano (which gets lost or buried in the more poorly recorded shows), is clearly audible. Over the years this same set has been released several times under different titles, including as Transcendence on Summit Records in 1961, as John Coltrane on Bluenite Records in 1962, as Impressions in Blue on Mastersound in 2000 and as Traneing In on United Audio in 2005. These are generally budget releases, and fans of Coltrane's classic quartet with Tyner, Elvin Jones on drums, and Jimmy Garrison on bass will find this set not only affordable but enjoyable, as well, if not exactly essential.</p><p>—<strong>Steve Leggett</strong></p> |
| John Coltrane | Live At The Village Vanguard - The Master Takes | <p>John Coltrane's week at the Village Vanguard in 1961 resulted in a total of 22 recorded versions of nine songs, all of which have been released in the four-CD box The Complete 1961 Village Vanguard Recordings. This 1998 single CD has the five performances that the great saxophonist had agreed to have released during his lifetime: three numbers from the original Live at the Village Vanguard LP ("Spiritual," "Softly as in a Morning Sunrise," and "Chasin' the Trane") and two songs that appeared on Impressions (the title cut and "India"). Although branded as "anti-jazz" by John S. Wilson (an attack that was seconded by Leonard Feather), the music is actually quite coherent and would even be thought of as moderately conservative today, particularly "Spiritual" and the boppish rendition of "Softly." Coltrane does stretch out quite a bit on the raging "Chasin' the Trane" and "Impressions," but compared to what he would be playing in 1965, this should not scare anyone away. Obviously this CD (which also has Eric Dolphy's bass clarinet on two songs, pianist McCoy Tyner, Reggie Workman and/or Jimmy Garrison on bass, and drummer Elvin Jones) is primarily recommended to listeners not wanting to invest in the more complete box.</p><p>—<strong>Scott Yanow</strong></p><hr/><p>Original album review</p><p>This set documents the four-night stand by John Coltrane (sax) and his quintet at the Village Vanguard in New York City, November 1 -- 5, 1961. Although these are not newly discovered tapes -- as the majority of the selections have turned up on no less than five separate releases -- their restoration is significant in assessing motifs in Coltrane's [read: multi-show] live appearances. Coltrane is accompanied by an all-star ensemble of Eric Dolphy (alto sax/bass clarinet), Garvin Bushell (oboe/contrabassoon), Ahmed Abdul-Malik (oud), McCoy Tyner (piano), Jimmy Garrison (bass), Reggie Workman (bass), Elvin Jones (drums), and Roy Haynes (drums). Their presence is as equally vital as Coltrane's -- inspiring as well as informing the dimensions of improvisation. With the knowledge that the entire run was being documented to create some sort of retail document, Coltrane chose nine specific compositions to concentrate on. The choice of material likewise had a tremendous impact on the personnel of the band -- evidenced by Bushnell's contributions during "Spiritual" and Abdul-Malik's within the context of the extended "India." Each set bears its own distinctive shading and emphasis. Parties wishing to hear the run in its entirety are encouraged to check out the multi-disc Complete 1961 Village Vanguard Recordings (1997) as there are multiple takes of the same songs. This allows even the most unsophisticated jazz consumer the opportunity to note the difference in the various versions, while contrasting the player's widely diverse performance styles. The highly recommended box set also includes a nine-panel fold out poster, 48-page liner notes booklet -- with a complete discography for the included material -- and other ephemera, such as rarely published photographs.</p><p>—<strong>Lindsay Planer</strong></p> |
| John Coltrane | A Love Supreme | <p>One of the most important records ever made, John Coltrane's A Love Supreme was his pinnacle studio outing, that at once compiled all of the innovations from his past, spoke to the current of deep spirituality that liberated him from addictions to drugs and alcohol, and glimpsed at the future innovations of his final two and a half years. Recorded over two days in December 1964, Trane's classic quartet--Elvin Jones, McCoy Tyner, and Jimmy Garrison-- stepped into the studio and created one of the most the most thought-provoking, concise, and technically pleasing albums of their bountiful relationship. From the undulatory (and classic) bassline at the intro to the last breathy notes, Trane is at the peak of his logical and emotionally varied soloing, while the rest of the group is completely atttuned to his spiritual vibe. Composed of four parts, each has a thematic progression. "Acknowledgement" is the awakening to a spiritual life from the darkness of the world; it trails off with the saxophonist chanting the suite's title. "Resolution" is an amazingly beautiful, somewhat turbulent segment. It portrays the dedication required for discovery on the path toward spiritual understanding. "Pursuance" searches deeply for that experience, while "Psalm" portrays that discovery and the realization of enlightenment with humility. Although sometimes aggressive and dissonant, this isn't Coltrane at his most furious or adventurous. His recordings following this period--studio and live-- become progressively untethered and extremely spirited. A Love Supreme not only attempts but realizes the ambitious undertaking of Coltrane's concept; his emotional, searching, sometimes prayerful journey is made abundantly clear. Clocking in at 33 minutes; A Love Supreme conveys much without overstatement. It is almost impossible to imagine any jazz collection without it.</p><p>— <strong>Sam Samuelson</strong></p><hr/><p>John Coltrane was a late bloomer. Born in 1926, the same year as Miles Davis, he spent his twenties in and out of small-time bands, a promising journeyman moving between playing jazz and the more bar-friendly music that was starting to be called R&B. During these early years he had problems with narcotics and alcohol, alternating stretches of heroin use with periods of binge drinking. Charlie Parker—every sax player's hero when Coltrane was coming up in the 1940s and '50s—had given the junkie life a romantic aura for some naive souls, connecting drug use with creativity. But the underachieving Coltrane was a run-of-the-mill addict, someone broke and in ill health whose habit clearly kept him stuck in place. He was fired from Miles Davis' band in 1957 for showing up on the bandstand dressed in shabby clothes and visibly drunk—by some accounts he took a punch from the trumpeter before being given his walking papers. And if Coltrane had spiraled and his career had ended there, he'd be remembered now as a musician who flamed out just as he was discovering his voice.</p><p>But that's not what happened. Everything changed for Coltrane in 1957 when, as he wrote in the liner notes to his defining album, A Love Supreme, he "experienced, by the grace of God, a spiritual awakening which was to lead me to a richer, fuller, more productive life." During that year, Coltrane stopped drinking and kicked heroin, and from that point forward, his career would unfold with an almost frightening amount of focus and intensity. These final 10 years are when Coltrane made his mark on the world of jazz as a leader, and he was then seemingly always on the move, in transition, each moment glimpsed as a blur on a continuum rather than a fixed point in space. He wasn't just covering ground, he was accelerating, and every phase of his later career has the attendant feeling of stomach-dropping free-fall, of being pushed forcefully into new places.</p><p>A Love Supreme, recorded with what was later called his classic quartet, is Coltrane's musical expression of his 1957 epiphany. It's the sound of a man laying his soul bare. Structured as a suite and delivered in praise of God, everything about the record is designed for maximum emotional impact, from Elvin Jones' opening gong crash to the soft rain of McCoy Tyner's piano clusters to Coltrane's stately fanfare to Jimmy Garrison's iconic four-note bassline to the spoken chant by Coltrane—"a-LOVE-su-PREME, a-LOVE-su-PREME"—that carries out the opening movement, "Acknowledgement". By the time the record gets to the closing "Psalm", which finds Coltrane interpreting on his saxophone the syllables of a poem he'd written to the Creator, A Love Supreme has wrung its concept dry, extracting every drop of feeling from Coltrane's initial vision. It's as complete a statement as exists in recorded jazz. Hearing it now as part of this exhaustive 3xCD set, which gathers every scrap of material recorded during the sessions as well as a live performance of the suite from later the same year, you get a clearer sense than ever before of the different forms A Love Supreme might have taken, and how Coltrane's desire to communicate something specific and profound led to its final shape.</p><p>A Love Supreme is also one of the most popular albums in the last 60 years of jazz, selling the kind of numbers usually reserved for pop (it quickly sold more than 100,000 copies, and has almost certainly sold more than a million since). If Miles Davis' Kind of Blue is the most frequently bought first jazz album for those curious about the genre, A Love Supreme is easily number two. But though they were released just seven years apart, there's a world of difference between the two records, and the success of A Love Supreme is trickier to explain. For all its structural daring, Kind of Blue also functions as an ambient record, with slower tempos and a late-night vibe. A Love Supreme is harder to get a handle on. If you can think of Coltrane's work on a continuum, from the gorgeous melodicism of "My Favorite Things" or Ballads or his album with Duke Ellington on one end and the brutal noise assault of the 1966 concerts collected on Concert in Japan on the other, A Love Supreme sits perfectly at the fulcrum, challenging enough to continually reveal new aspects but accessible enough to inspire newcomers.</p><p>Coltrane may have structured the record for just this effect. He had already been further "out" than the music heard on A Love Supreme, including some of the knotty extended jams like "Chasin' the Trane" recorded at his 1961 sessions at the Village Vanguard. He was fascinated with the innovations of Ornette Coleman from the minute he heard them in the late '50s, and though he never completely abandoned chord changes, he regularly flirted with atonality, improvising outside of a fixed key. With A Love Supreme, it was almost as though Coltrane knew he had to dial things back a little in order to share his message of spiritual rebirth with a wider audience. Though conventionally beautiful in many ways, A Love Supreme is, for many, the exact point beyond which jazz becomes too experimental.</p><p>It's possible to hear on this set how the album might have gone even further. At a time when a single track might have a dozen collaborators working on it over the course of weeks, it's a little mind-boggling to consider that the music on A Love Supreme was recorded on a single day, December 9, 1964. This wasn't uncommon for jazz records of the time. But though they had the music in the can from that first day, Coltrane wanted to try something else. So on December 10, he called the young tenor saxophonist Archie Shepp, and a second bassist, Art Davis to play with his quartet. The six musicians then ran through two versions of A Love Supreme's opening "Acknowledgment", so that Coltrane could explore what the music might sound like with another horn and additional low-end rhythm. Shepp was an up-and-comer deeply influenced by Coltrane; the two takes of "Acknowledgment" featuring Shepp find him serving as a kind of textural counterpoint, his more brittle and biting tone commenting on the melody from an oblique angle and hinting at possibilities existing outside of the version recorded the day before. You sense a more abrasive road not taken, one that almost certainly would have found a smaller audience.</p><p>We hear a different perspective on the fantastic live version of the suite recorded in France five months after the album's release. Five months in '60s Coltrane time was like a decade in the career of other jazz musicians, and he was already imbuing the A Love Supreme material with an extra intensity. Tyner's clanging chords on "Resolution" have a harsher edge, and Coltrane's attendant soloing is much rougher and more pointed, his notes seeming to attack the structure of the composition from several directions rather than floating along above it. This is the hard-blowing sound that Coltrane would show on Meditations, another spiritually focused album-length suite recorded later in 1965 that never had a chance at A Love Supreme's level of mainstream acceptance.</p><p>In the same year, Coltrane would also record Om and Ascension, two harsh and challenging pieces of music that strain against the boundaries of what most people would even consider music. Given what surrounds it, and how sweet and gentle it so often is, A Love Supreme was an expression of a very specific time and place, a conscious attempt by Coltrane to communicate something to his audience that was broad enough to be understood but rich and complex enough to honor both where he was as a musician and the depth of the subject matter. A Love Supreme sounds like nothing else in John Coltrane's discography, and indeed like little else in recorded jazz, sitting at the nexus of so many competing musical ideas.</p><p>The final piece of the A Love Supreme equation concerns the civil rights movement and black liberation, and how those swirling ideas were inextricably tangled up with the jazz avant-garde. Coltrane was never overtly political, but he did allow his thoughts and feelings to bleed into his music. Coltrane met Malcolm X, wrote a piece for Martin Luther King Jr., and his 1963 dirge "Alabama", a piece with a close tonal connection to A Love Supreme's "Psalm", was written to commemorate the four girls killed in the Birmingham church bombing that year. As the '60s wore on, politically conscious "fire jazz" grew in currency, much of it directly inspired by Coltrane's music, but during his life he never quite felt the need to connect his music to specific social currents, even as others drew inspiration from it in that context. Coltrane was seeking something broader, communing with God as he understood it.</p><p>For Coltrane, that spiritual journey led him to A Love Supreme, which became the base he'd explore from during his short time left on Earth. Coltrane occupies a unique position in jazz history. He was famous, especially in the jazz world, but he wasn't really a personality. He was not inclined toward interviews and he wasn't very good at them, preferring to let the music speak for itself. He didn't have the mystery of a Thelonious Monk, the tragic genius of a Charlie Parker, the cool comfort with celebrity or flamboyance of a Miles Davis, the combative verbal dexterity of Charles Mingus, the theoretical underpinnings of Ornette Coleman, the comfort with the mainstream of Louis Armstrong, or the symbolic stature of Duke Ellington. He led a quiet life, putting everything into his music.</p><p>His chaotic years mostly came when he was an unknown; by the time he was a major jazz figure, almost his entire life was music. If he wasn't on stage or in a recording studio, he was practicing or studying records. Seemingly every other story of an encounter with Coltrane in the 1960s involved him in a room with a saxophone in his hand, playing scales. In his mind, God had saved him, and he was going to give back. A Love Supreme was his expression of gratitude, a hopeful prayer for a better world.</p><p>— <strong>Mark Richardson, Pitchfork</strong></p> |
| John Coltrane | Crescent | <p>One of only two studio albums cut by the John Coltrane Quartet during 1964, Crescent is most notable for including five Coltrane compositions including the title cut, "Lonnie's Lament," and the swinging "Bessie's Blues." The music is excellent although not as fiery as the Quartet's live performances of the period.</p>— <b>Scott Yanow</b> |
| John Coltrane | Spiritual | <p>In the standard process of reissue/repackage, Impluse! put together an eight-track compilation of John Coltrane numbers together under the Spiritual title and theme. The job must have seemed pretty easy since just about everything he recorded for the label could be considered in the spiritual order. The real problem, therefore, became deciding which pieces to leave off the compilation as opposed to which ones to include. For instance, "Acknowledgement," the first movement from the landmark <em>A Love Supreme</em> is in tow, but taken out of context it feels secluded and unsupported, thereby relegating the rest of <em>A Love Supreme</em> (which is arguably even more spirited) inconsequential. There are certainly some beautiful works here: "Song of Praise" (an odd, but delightful choice), and "Dear Lord" typify this compilation -- in fact there's not a dud in the group. It's just not possible to capture or do justice to Trane's spiritually themed Impulse! output onto one disc. For the seasoned Coltrane fan this compilation will prove useless. For those beginning their journey into Coltrane's formidable catalog, <em>Spiritual</em> is a mediocre representation of some magnificent records.</p><p>—<strong>Jack Isles</strong></p> |
| John Coltrane | The Definitive John Coltrane | <p>John Coltrane spent little more than a decade of his career in the public eye before his death in 1967, but during that time his work was in a state of constant, often turbulent change. In the process, he would create one of the most influential bodies of work in jazz. Many of Coltrane's greatest recordings were long, and it's no easy task to create a single CD that reflects his creative range. However, this remarkably good selection manages to include several extended performances, while charting his work's moments of both profound meditative beauty and creative onslaught. On "Giant Steps," Coltrane pressed the boundaries of chordal improvisation, creating a high-speed maze of harmonic extensions. In perhaps his most famous vehicle, he recrafted "My Favorite Things" in the image of Indian music, spinning scalar improvisations on his soprano saxophone over a repeating piano figure and the molten drums of Elvin Jones. "Chasin' the Trane," from his great 1961 Village Vanguard recordings, uses simple blues to launch an extended solo that tests the tenor's expressive limits. "Jupiter," a duet with drummer Rashied Ali recorded in the final months of Coltrane's life, finds the same intensity still burning within him, his tone compressed to a tight vibrato and his circular lines spinning in still fresh directions. Along the way are those serene islands that always marked Coltrane's work, some of the most beautiful and direct ballad and blues playing in jazz, from his own "Naima" to an ethereal version of "In a Sentimental Mood" with its composer, Duke Ellington, at the piano.</p> — <b>Stuart Broomer</b> |
| Shawn Colvin | Steady On | |
| Shawn Colvin | Nothin On Me | |
| Ry Cooder | Ry Cooder | <p>His debut serves as a neat prototype, with its Sleepy John Estes and Woody Guthrie covers. It also introduces a most talented musician in its leader. But it's still a prototype; the best was yet to come.</p><p>—<strong>Jeff Tamarkin</strong></p><hr/><p>Already a seasoned music business veteran at the age of 22, Ry Cooder stepped out from behind the shadows of the likes of Jackie DeShannon, Taj Mahal, the Rolling Stones, and Captain Beefheart, signing his own deal with Warner Brothers records in 1969. Released the following year, Cooder's eponymous debut creates an intriguing fusion of blues, folk, rock & roll, and pop, filtered through his own intricate, syncopated guitar; Van Dyke Parks and Lenny Waronker's idiosyncratic production; and Parks and Kirby Johnson's string arrangements. And while he's still finding his feet as a singer, Cooder puts this unique blend across with a combination of terrific songs, virtuosic playing, and quirky, yet imaginative, arrangements. For material, Cooder, the son of folklorist parents, unearths ten gems -- spanning six decades dating back to the 1920s -- by legends such as Woody Guthrie, Blind Blake, Sleepy John Estes, and Leadbelly, as well as a current Randy Newman composition. Still, as great as his outside choices are, it's the exuberant charm of his own instrumental "Available Space" that nearly steals the show. Its joyful interplay between Cooder's slide, Van Dyke Parks' music hall piano, and the street-corner drumming creates a piece that is both loose and sophisticated. If "Available Space" is the record's most playful moment, its closer, "Dark Is the Night," is the converse, with Cooder's stark, acoustic slide extracting every ounce of torment from Blind Willie Johnson's mournful masterpiece. Some of the eccentric arrangements may prove to be a bit much for both purists and pop audiences alike, but still, Cooder's need to stretch, tempered with a reverence for the past, helps to create a completely original work that should reward adventurous listeners.</p><p>—<strong>Brett Hartenbach</strong></p> |
| Ry Cooder | Into The Purple Valley | <p>Ry Cooder is known as a virtuoso on almost every stringed instrument, and on Into the Purple Valley, he demonstrates this ability on a wide variety of instruments. The main focus of the music here is on the era of the Dust Bowl, and what was happening in America at the time, socially and musically. Songs by Woody Guthrie, Leadbelly, and a variety of others show Cooder's encyclopedic knowledge of the music of this time, combined with an instinctive feel for the songs. 'Phenomenal' is the descriptive word to describe his playing, whether it is on guitar, Hawaiian "slack key" guitar, mandolin, or the more arcane instruments he has found. This is a must for those who love instrumental virtuosity, authentic reworkings of an era, or just plain good music.</p><p>—<strong>Bob Gottlieb</strong></p> |
| Ry Cooder | Boomers Story | <p>Boomer's Story, Ry Cooder's third record, continues his archeological dig through music's familiar and forgotten past. As was the case with his previous recordings, he not only looks to the masters -- including blues legend Sleepy John Estes, songwriter Dan Penn (both of whom appear here) and the great Skip James -- for material, but to lost and neglected pieces of American folk and blues, as well. Cooder adds the traditional title-track, which opens the album, and Lawrence Wilson's "Crow Black Chicken," which dates back to the late 1920s, to this collection of discoveries -- both of which are handled with just the right balance of personality and reverence. Elsewhere, he injects a dark irony into the jingoistic "Rally 'Round the Flag," with its slow, mournful piano (played by Randy Newman) and slide guitar, while the Joseph Spence-style guitar arrangement of the World War II standard "Comin' in on a Wing and a Prayer" has a sense of hope and conviction. Often criticized for possessing a less than commanding voice, Cooder steps back from the microphone for four of the album's ten tracks -- three instrumentals and one featuring Sleepy John Estes on his own "President Kennedy." And while all of the instrumentals presented here are fine renditions of great tunes, it's "Dark End of the Street" which truly stands out. Here, Cooder realizes that the only thing in his arsenal that can do justice to James Carr's definitive version is his own remorseful slide guitar. Without uttering a single lyric, he's able to convey the shame and deep regret of the Dan Penn/Chips Moman classic. Thanks to moments like this, along with Cooder's consistently strong choice of material and brilliant guitar work, Boomer's Story -- less eccentric than his first, and less eclectic than Into the Purple Valley -- ranks among his best work</p><p>—<strong>Brett Hartenbach</strong></p> |
| Ry Cooder | Paradise And Lunch | <p>Ry Cooder understands that a great song is a great song, whether it was written before the Depression or last week. Still, at the same time he isn't afraid to explore new avenues and possibilities for the material. Like his three previous records, Paradise and Lunch is filled with treasures which become part of a world where eras and styles converge without ever sounding forced or contrived. One may think that an album that contains a traditional railroad song, tunes by assorted blues greats, and a Negro spiritual alongside selections by the likes of Bobby Womack, Burt Bacharach, and Little Milton may lack cohesiveness or merely come across as a history lesson, but to Cooder this music is all part of the same fabric and is as relevant and accessible as anything else that may be happening at the time. No matter when it was written or how it may have been done in the past, the tracks, led by Cooder's brilliant guitar, are taken to new territory where they can coexist. It's as if Washington Phillips' "Tattler" could have shared a place on the charts with Womack's "It's All Over Now" or Little Milton's "If Walls Could Talk." That he's successful on these, as well as the Salvation Army march of "Jesus on the Mainline" or the funky, gospel feel of Blind Willie McTell's "Married Man's a Fool," is not only a credit to Cooder's talent and ingenuity as an arranger and bandleader, but also to the songs themselves. The album closes with its most stripped-down track, an acoustic guitar and piano duet with jazz legend Earl "Fatha" Hines on the Blind Blake classic "Ditty Wah Ditty." Here both musicians are given plenty of room to showcase their instrumental prowess, and the results are nothing short of stunning. Eclectic, intelligent, and thoroughly entertaining, Paradise and Lunch remains Ry Cooder's masterpiece.</p><p>—<strong>Brett Hartenbach</strong></p> |
| Ry Cooder | Paradise And Lunch | <p>Ry Cooder understands that a great song is a great song, whether it was written before the Depression or last week. Still, at the same time he isn't afraid to explore new avenues and possibilities for the material. Like his three previous records, Paradise and Lunch is filled with treasures which become part of a world where eras and styles converge without ever sounding forced or contrived. One may think that an album that contains a traditional railroad song, tunes by assorted blues greats, and a Negro spiritual alongside selections by the likes of Bobby Womack, Burt Bacharach, and Little Milton may lack cohesiveness or merely come across as a history lesson, but to Cooder this music is all part of the same fabric and is as relevant and accessible as anything else that may be happening at the time. No matter when it was written or how it may have been done in the past, the tracks, led by Cooder's brilliant guitar, are taken to new territory where they can coexist. It's as if Washington Phillips' "Tattler" could have shared a place on the charts with Womack's "It's All Over Now" or Little Milton's "If Walls Could Talk." That he's successful on these, as well as the Salvation Army march of "Jesus on the Mainline" or the funky, gospel feel of Blind Willie McTell's "Married Man's a Fool," is not only a credit to Cooder's talent and ingenuity as an arranger and bandleader, but also to the songs themselves. The album closes with its most stripped-down track, an acoustic guitar and piano duet with jazz legend Earl "Fatha" Hines on the Blind Blake classic "Ditty Wah Ditty." Here both musicians are given plenty of room to showcase their instrumental prowess, and the results are nothing short of stunning. Eclectic, intelligent, and thoroughly entertaining, Paradise and Lunch remains Ry Cooder's masterpiece.</p><p>—<strong>Brett Hartenbach</strong></p> |
| Ry Cooder | Chicken Skin Music | <p>Ry Cooder has always believed in the "mutuality in music," and this may be no more evident in his career than with his fifth album, Chicken Skin Music (a Hawaiian colloquialism, synonymous with goosebumps). Even more than usual, Cooder refuses to recognize borders -- geographical or musical -- presenting "Stand By Me" as a gospel song with a norteño arrangement, or giving the Jim Reeves country-pop classic, "He'll Have to Go," a bolero rhythm, featuring the interplay of Flaco Jimenez's accordion and Pat Rizzo's alto sax. Elsewhere, he teams with a pair of Hawaiian greats -- steel guitarist and singer Gabby Pahinui and slack key guitar master Atta Isaacs -- on the Hank Snow hit "Yellow Roses" and the beautiful instrumental "Chloe." If Cooder's approach to the music is stylistically diverse, his choice of material certainly follows suit. Bookended by a couple of Leadbelly compositions, Chicken Skin Music sports a collection of songs ranging from the aforementioned tracks to the charming old minstrel/medicine show number "I Got Mine" and the syncopated R&B of "Smack Dab in the Middle." Also included is Appalachian songwriter Blind Alfred Reed's "Always Lift Him Up," complete with a Hawaiian gospel tune, "Kanaka Wai Wai," woven into the instrumental section. As he explains in the album's liner notes, Cooder understands the connection between these seemingly disparate styles. This is not merely eclecticism for its own sake. Chicken Skin Music is probably Ry Cooder's most eccentric record since his first, but it's also one of his most entertaining.</p><p>—<strong>Brett Hartenbach</strong></p> |
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