Record Reviews
📝 2096 reviews| Artist | Title | Review |
|---|---|---|
| Branford Marsalis | Requiem | <p>Branford Marsalis' longtime pianist Kenny Kirkland died two months after the sessions for this album began — hence the title — and after a futile attempt to finish the recording in December 1998, Branford decided to leave the music as is, first takes and all. If there are any serious flaws in the playing, they will escape the vast majority of ears out there, for this is an uncompromising, well-played disc of acoustic jazz that leans a bit toward adventure at times. At first, Branford's foursome (Kirkland, Eric Revis on bass, and Jeff "Tain" Watts on drums) seems content to turn out a pretty good facsimile of the John Coltrane Quartet, with Kirkland playing brilliantly and reflectively in the McCoy Tyner manner. But with "Lykief" — a pun on Keith Jarrett's name — Branford takes up Jarrett's long unanswered challenge and pushes through a tumbling, nearly rhythmically free piece attractively anchored by Jarrett's gospel harmonies and melodic methods. "Bullworth" blasts off on a Watts hip-hop rhythm, with Branford going nuts in an angular bit of soloing, and "16th St. Baptist Church" apparently sends the CD home on a funky New Orleans street march, only to be followed by a touching, uncredited Marsalis/Kirkland benediction. Once again, the post-Tonight Show, post-Buckshot Marsalis makes a credibly serious jazz statement in what turned out to be the swan song for one of the neo-bop era's finest lineups.</p><p>— <b>Richard S. Ginell</b></p> |
| Branford Marsalis | Contemporary Jazz | <p>This album was much anticipated, for it would be Branford Marsalis's first since the death of his longtime pianist Kenny Kirkland. Happily, it is a knockout. While no one can entirely recreate the famed chemistry that existed between Kirkland and Marsalis, pianist Joey Calderazzo does a marvelous job handling the extraordinary complexity, energy, and beauty of Marsalis's music. Bassist Eric Revis and drummer Jeff "Tain" Watts, both of whom played on 1999's Requiem (which wound up being the last recording of Kirkland's life), carry on here in the spirit of their departed friend, fleshing out Marsalis's increasingly challenging ensemble concepts and -- most importantly -- swinging like men possessed."In the Crease" and "Tain Mutiny," with their unpredictable twists and turns, are indicative of the gravitas of Marsalis's work ever since he left his post at The Tonight Show. But the album's high point is a lengthy take of "Elysium," a tune that appeared on Requiem as a trio piece, an aesthetic choice necessitated by the sudden death of Kirkland who never had a chance to play on the track. Here the full quartet weighs in, deftly executing a dizzying series of tempo shifts and subtle cues, all seamlessly worked into a fabric of extended, burning improvisation. Finally, "Sleepy Hollow," a slow blues tucked away at the end of the program as a hidden track, sounds as though the band just let the tape roll as they warmed down from the session. It's a delightfully unrehearsed moment, perhaps a closing homage to Kirkland, drawn from deep down in the tradition.</p><p>—<strong>David R. Adler</strong></p> |
| Branford Marsalis | The Steep Anthology | <p>The Steep Anthology collects various tracks from some of saxophonist Branford Marsalis' best Columbia albums. Beginning with his first session as a leader on 1983's Scenes in the City through to 1999's Requiem — his second to last album for the label — the eldest of the Marsalis brothers carved a singular path through the jazz world. Inspired by such innovative luminaries as John Coltrane, Ornette Coleman, and Wayne Shorter, Marsalis always displayed a deep understanding of his jazz roots while also looking to put his own unique stamp on the music. Never as buttoned-up as his trumpet-playing brother, the saxophonist made recordings that often seemed brilliantly haphazard, allowing for humorous and idiosyncratic forays into gutbucket blues and torrents of avant-garde skronk. His almost psychic connection with his bandmates, including the late pianist Kenny Kirkland, drummer Jeff "Tain" Watts, and bassist Robert Hurst, made for exciting and sometimes irreverent music that often gave the impression of eavesdropping on a conversation ripe with inside jokes. Most of the tracks here are original compositions by Marsalis, and many showcase his early "burnout" aesthetic of pushing his solos to the furthest limit he could. Others, such as "Royal Garden Blues" and "Sidney in da Haus," find the versatile New Orleans native rejoicing in his hometown second-line traditions with a bluesy, modernist edge. Marsalis left Columbia in 2002 to start his own independent music label; The Steep Anthology is a fitting tribute to the development of one of the most influential and individualistic jazz musicians of his generation.</p><p>— <b>Matt Collar</b></p> |
| Wynton Marsalis | Standard Time Vol.1 | |
| Martha's Vineyard | I Had A Green Heart | |
| John Martyn | Solid Air | <p>Much denser than before, <i>Solid Air</i> was to reveal a new twist in Martyn's musical style. Slurring his words even more, songs like the title cut fairly ooze from the shadows, and the jazzy inclinations keep the listener spellbound. A cover of Skip James' "I'd Rather Be the Devil" found Martyn using an Echoplex delay effect, which gave his guitar work an otherworldly feel. "May You Never" is a great folk tale familiar to those who own Eric Clapton's <i>Slowhand</i> -- herein lies the original from the writer himself. Excellent!— <b>James Chrispell</b> |
| John Martyn | Solid Air | <p>Much denser than before, Solid Air was to reveal a new twist in Martyn's musical style. Slurring his words even more, songs like the title cut fairly ooze from the shadows, and the jazzy inclinations keep the listener spellbound. A cover of Skip James' "I'd Rather Be the Devil" found Martyn using an Echoplex delay effect, which gave his guitar work an otherworldly feel. "May You Never" is a great folk tale familiar to those who own Eric Clapton's Slowhand -- herein lies the original from the writer himself. Excellent!</p>— <b>James Chrispell</b> |
| John Martyn | One World | <p>After Sunday's Child, John Martyn took an extended break from studio recording. By late 1975, feeling he was close to going "completely round the bend," he had also stopped touring. To put some distance between himself and the pressures of the business and to recoup his creative energies, he went to Jamaica. There, after meeting dub producer Lee "Scratch" Perry, Martyn sat in on sessions by other artists and contributed to Burning Spear's Man in the Hills. Martyn returned to the U.K. reinvigorated and began recording One World in summer 1977. Produced by Island boss Chris Blackwell and featuring Dave Pegg, Morris Pert, John Stevens, Danny Thompson, and Steve Winwood, among others, One World combines the experimental tendencies of 1973's Inside Out and the more conventional song structures of Sunday's Child.</p><p>While tracks like "Couldn't Love You More," "Smiling Stranger," and "Certain Surprise" display some continuity with the rootsy, jazzy folk-rock of Martyn's previous albums, this record has a stronger commercial feel than his earlier work, crossing over into pop territory. Especially memorable in that regard is the electrified swagger of "Big Muff," a number co-written by Perry that would become one of Martyn's live staples. But One World's understated explorations of mood are even more compelling; the experimental nature of dub -- of which Perry was a legendary exponent -- clearly resonated with Martyn. Since the early '70s, he had displayed a keen ear for sonic manipulation, using effects like Echoplex and a phase shifter to craft drifting, hypnotic textures. Here, the lazy title track and the synth-pulsing "Small Hours" exemplify Martyn's knack for mesmerizing, smoky grooves. Those looser, atmospheric numbers notwithstanding, most of One World signals the more slick pop direction John Martyn would take in the '80s starting with Grace & Danger (and with increasingly mixed results). [In 2005, Island released a Deluxe Edition of One World that included five live tracks and 10 alternate versions of songs from the initial release.]</p><p>— <strong>Wilson Neate</strong></p> |
| John Martyn | One World | <p>After Sunday's Child, John Martyn took an extended break from studio recording. By late 1975, feeling he was close to going "completely round the bend," he had also stopped touring. To put some distance between himself and the pressures of the business and to recoup his creative energies, he went to Jamaica. There, after meeting dub producer Lee "Scratch" Perry, Martyn sat in on sessions by other artists and contributed to Burning Spear's Man in the Hills. Martyn returned to the U.K. reinvigorated and began recording <i>One World</i> in summer 1977. Produced by Island boss Chris Blackwell and featuring Dave Pegg, Morris Pert, John Stevens, Danny Thompson, and Steve Winwood, among others, <i>One World</i> combines the experimental tendencies of 1973's Inside Out and the more conventional song structures of Sunday's Child. While tracks like "Couldn't Love You More," "Smiling Stranger," and "Certain Surprise" display some continuity with the rootsy, jazzy folk-rock of Martyn's previous albums, this record has a stronger commercial feel than his earlier work, crossing over into pop territory.</p><p>Especially memorable in that regard is the electrified swagger of "Big Muff," a number co-written by Perry that would become one of Martyn's live staples. But <i>One World's</i> understated explorations of mood are even more compelling; the experimental nature of dub -- of which Perry was a legendary exponent -- clearly resonated with Martyn. Since the early '70s, he had displayed a keen ear for sonic manipulation, using effects like Echoplex and a phase shifter to craft drifting, hypnotic textures. Here, the lazy title track and the synth-pulsing "Small Hours" exemplify Martyn's knack for mesmerizing, smoky grooves. Those looser, atmospheric numbers notwithstanding, most of <i>One World</i> signals the more slick pop direction John Martyn would take in the '80s starting with Grace & Danger (and with increasingly mixed results). [In 2005, Island released a Deluxe Edition of One World that included five live tracks and 10 alternate versions of songs from the initial release.]— <b>Wilson Neate</b> |
| John Martyn | John Martyn At The BBC | |
| John Martyn | Sweet Little Mysteries - The Island Anthology | <p>John Martyn was Island Records' first white solo performer. Having debuted as a fresh-faced teenage folky with 1967's London Conversation, he soon embarked on a restless musical odyssey. Built on a foundation of folk, blues, and jazz, Martyn's music has ranged from effects-laden experimentation, through rock, to fusion-influenced pop. This overview of Martyn's Island recordings ignores his first two albums and two releases with then-wife Beverley, picking up with Bless the Weather (1971). Although ornate love songs from that record like "Head and Heart" remain close to Martyn's traditionalist roots, the instrumental "Glistening Glyndebourne" shows he was keen to distance himself from the Donovan-Cat Stevens orbit of twee folk-pop. Solid Air, 1973's sublime follow-up, is well represented here. On it, Martyn moved effortlessly among light acoustic tunes ("Over the Hill"), darker, jazzier numbers ("Solid Air," his ode to friend Nick Drake), and gizmo-enhanced excursions (his rendering of Skip James' "I'd Rather Be the Devil"). Martyn pursued his experimental inclinations further with the jazz-folkadelic Inside Out (1973); that album's adventurous spirit is captured by the gently droning "Eibhli Ghail Chiuin Ni Chearbhaill," which reworks a 19th century Celtic folk tune with such late 20th century rock tools as a fuzzbox and phase-shifter. Sunday's Child (1974) returned to a more focused song format, as demonstrated by the mournful "Spencer the Rover." Martyn's next studio venture, One World (1977), combined chilled-out moodscapes ("Small Hours") with slick, adult-oriented pop and rock ("Dancing"), the latter tendency even more prominent on Grace & Danger (1980) and exemplified by the delicate "Sweet Little Mystery." While Martyn's later Island releases were less memorable, those mid-'80s numbers collected here hold up well. This album provides a great introduction to John Martyn; its only weakness is the omission of his earliest efforts, a sampling of which would give a fuller sense of his work's evolution.</p>— <b>Wilson Neate</b> |
| Eduardo Mata | Gershwin | |
| Ian Matthews | Valley Hi | <p>One of these nights, I'm going to realize that I have become an Eagles fan. It will be easy to blame modern practitioners like Wilco, Will Oldham, or Calexico for getting me infatuated with that country-rock sound, slightly fried in the sun, yet mellow enough for the most Cuervo and Columbian-shriveled mind, but the biggest culprit will be Ian Matthews. He alone has made that peaceful, easy feeling of loathsome So-Cal sound palatable to my ears by masticating songs that Frey & Co. would one day cop and make more famous on their own.A player on the first two Fairport Convention albums, Matthews saw the similarity between the folk revival in England and the emerging singer/songwriter scene in L.A., and after a few group efforts as Plainsong and Matthews Southern Comfort, he left the UK's clammy chill for good to reside in the eternally sunny clime of California, hooking up with producer Michael Nesmith to record his fifth solo album, Valley Hi. Nesmith, of course, is better known as the lanky, wool-capped Monkee, but his career also took turns into weird film/television projects like Popclips (which would one day morph into the behemoth known as MTV) and Elephant Parts, as well as a modest stake in that gilded-country sound of his solo career (his greatest success still being the pen behind Linda Ronstadt's "Different Drum").Fans of Being There or The Royal Tennenbaums soundtrack can imagine a mashing of the two for Ian Matthews' exquisite, swooping country-take of "These Days", his reedy voice replacing Nico's morphine drip.</p><p>As a collector of songs, his ear was excellent, with many of his covers being turned into gold for other MOR artists. Without the help of the songwriter credits, it'd be hard to glean what songs are the traditional folk standards and which are 50s country two-step. Then there's the rare Richard Thompson song and the rare Randy Newman one. Not to mention that Matthews' is an adept writer, too, slipping his originals into the running order. He commingles the disparate strands effortlessly, infusing them with his laidback pacing and quivering, gentle voice until they're all of a piece. His take on Nesmith's concise friendship-into-love song "Propinquity" gets delivered with a tender lilt, while his cover of Steve Young's "7 Bridges Road" was lifted wholesale by the Eagles in the early 80s. They also made a hit out of Tom Waits' "Ol' 55", a song which opens Ian Matthews' sixth album, Some Days You Eat the Bear and Some Days the Bear Eats You, released a year later. Without Nesmith's Texas twang touch behind the board, the album hangs a little more precariously, less cohesive than its predecessor. Matthews' "Keep on Sailing" (which opened Valley Hi) gets slowed to a sluggish, sax-stuffed pace. The covers still stun, though. Crazy Horse's heartbreaking "I Don't Wanna Talk About It" (Rod Stewart hit with it) and Gene Clark's "Tried So Hard" (covered back in his days with Fairport Convention) are delivered with a mastery that stands along with the originals while also sounding refreshed in Matthews' throat.</p><p>The second side of the album, however, falls off with the Steely Dan and Jesse Winchester covers lost under that ever-increasing smog of adult contemporary radio. Still, for a good part of this two-fer collection of his Elektra solo albums, Matthews' recasts the future hits with effortless grace, reaching into his English past and his American country present to amalgamate something distinct, never once sounding like he's just out riding fences.</p><p>— <strong>Andy Beta, Pitchfork</strong></p> |
| Ian Matthews | Stealin' Home | |
| Ian Matthews | Siamese Friends | |
| Ian Matthews | Survival | |
| Ian Matthews | Shook | |
| Matthews Southern Comfort | Later That Same Year | |
| John Mayall | Bluesbreakers | <p>Bluesbreakers with Eric Clapton was Eric Clapton's first fully realized album as a blues guitarist -- more than that, it was a seminal blues album of the 1960s, perhaps the best British blues album ever cut, and the best LP ever recorded by John Mayall's Bluesbreakers. Standing midway between Clapton's stint with the Yardbirds and the formation of Cream, this album featured the new guitar hero on a series of stripped-down blues standards, Mayall pieces, and one Mayall/Clapton composition, all of which had him stretching out in the idiom for the first time in the studio. This album was the culmination of a very successful year of playing with John Mayall, a fully realized blues creation, featuring sounds very close to the group's stage performances, and with no compromises. Credit has to go to producer Mike Vernon for the purity and simplicity of the record; most British producers of that era wouldn't have been able to get it recorded this way, much less released. One can hear the very direct influence of Buddy Guy and a handful of other American bluesmen in the playing. And lest anyone forget the rest of the quartet: future pop/rock superstar John McVie and drummer Hughie Flint provide a rock-hard rhythm section, and Mayall's organ playing, vocalizing, and second guitar are all of a piece with Clapton's work. His guitar naturally dominates most of this record, and he can also be heard taking his first lead vocal, but McVie and Flint are just as intense and give the tracks an extra level of steel-strung tension and power, none of which have diminished across several decades.</p><p>— <strong>Bruce Eder</strong></p> |
| John Mayall | John Mayall's Bluesbreakers With Eric Clapton | <p>Bluesbreakers with Eric Clapton was Eric Clapton's first fully realized album as a blues guitarist -- more than that, it was a seminal blues album of the 1960s, perhaps the best British blues album ever cut, and the best LP ever recorded by John Mayall's Bluesbreakers. Standing midway between Clapton's stint with the Yardbirds and the formation of Cream, this album featured the new guitar hero on a series of stripped-down blues standards, Mayall pieces, and one Mayall/Clapton composition, all of which had him stretching out in the idiom for the first time in the studio. This album was the culmination of a very successful year of playing with John Mayall, a fully realized blues creation, featuring sounds very close to the group's stage performances, and with no compromises. Credit has to go to producer Mike Vernon for the purity and simplicity of the record; most British producers of that era wouldn't have been able to get it recorded this way, much less released. One can hear the very direct influence of Buddy Guy and a handful of other American bluesmen in the playing. And lest anyone forget the rest of the quartet: future pop/rock superstar John McVie and drummer Hughie Flint provide a rock-hard rhythm section, and Mayall's organ playing, vocalizing, and second guitar are all of a piece with Clapton's work. His guitar naturally dominates most of this record, and he can also be heard taking his first lead vocal, but McVie and Flint are just as intense and give the tracks an extra level of steel-strung tension and power, none of which have diminished across several decades.</p><p>— <strong>Bruce Eder</strong></p> |
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