Springsteen's The Promise - LA Weekly

Bruce Springsteen's The Promise for LA Weekly's "West Coast Sound"


Now some guys they just give up living

and start dying little by little, piece by piece.

Some guys come home from work and wash up

And go racing in the streets.

--Bruce Springsteen

In 1975, at the age of 25, Bruce Springsteen released his third album Born to Run, a commercial and artistic success that solidified his place as the official raconteur of middle-class New Jersey. His tales of paved expanses and the salt-corroded machinery carrying misfits from boardwalk to boardwalk were wrapped in layers of rock orchestration unheard since Phil Spector was regularly terrorizing the studios of Los Angeles. (Few men can get away with using a piano, an organ and a glockenspiel all at once.) But following the album's success, Springsteen found himself locked in a legal dispute with his manager. He spent three years recording and touring before releasing his next album Darkness on the Edge of Town.

Now Springsteen definitively proves it wasn't writer's block that was keeping him off the radio with the release of The Promise: twenty-one tracks of Darkness-era outtakes, unreleased studio versions of live staples and even a newly recorded song (just to give the purists something to complain about). Overall the new tracks are interesting--but Springsteen's thirty-two year old decisions still seem like the right ones.

The double album opens with a Darkness outtake of "Racing in the Street" that is a little too reminiscent of "Thunder Road." An identical harmonica intro directs it immediately into the alternative takes bin. The alternate has a more grandiose conclusion but there was already plenty of that on the official release. "Come On (Let's Go Tonight)" is an alternative take to "Factory", an equally brief working-class dirge that could have just as easily fit on the Billy Elliott soundtrack. "Candy's Boy" is an alternative take on the breathy-but-bombastic "Candy's Room" with a more "classic rock" structure than the official release: Springsteen takes the sparse official track, adds a few verses and trades the guitar pyrotechnics for a roller-rink organ solo to diminished effect.

Springsteen has always been a scholar of rock 'n' roll--especially with the official garage rock professor, Steven Van Zandt, hanging somewhere off to his left for the last forty years. So it is no surprise to find a fair number of genre exercises littered throughout the album. "Ain't Good Enough for You" is the band's take on one of those party-in-the-studio albums that came out in the mid '60s--from the Beach Boys' Party! to Cannonball Adderley's Mercy Mercy Mercy. The band's off-time background vocals, whistles and handclaps capture the party vibe while Springsteen goofs his way through a litany of romantic frustrations. "Outside Looking In" is a Buddy Holly rave-up with rumbling tom-toms and scratchy guitars that is just a few vocal hiccups short of a tribute band.

While Springsteen was recording his highly orchestrated epics, the music world around him was changing. The punk movement, boiling less than forty blocks south of Springsteen's New York recording studio, was in mid-battle cry: Talking Heads '77, Marquee Moon and Ramones. Springsteen wasn't oblivious. His collaboration with Patti Smith, "Because the Night," became one of the biggest selling singles to come out of the CBGB's scene. (Is it surprising that the combination of these two artists sounds remarkably like Cher?) But Springsteen never released a version of his own at the time although it has remained in his live repertoire to this day. The studio version here is a little slower and grander than the Smith version but Springsteen adds a mid-song key change that lifts it to another level.

Springsteen also scored a chart hit when the Pointer Sisters covered his song "Fire" in 1978. The song was originally written for Elvis Presley but became a tribute to him when he died as Springsteen was still toiling in the studio. The Pointer Sisters version is sparser than Springsteen's--more indebted to the Motown girl groups with its tambourine and organ. Springsteen, when performing the song live, often brings out his more theatrical side with coy poses that say more than the lyrics ever could. The resulting studio version is an Elvis tribute that is as much white jumpsuit as pre-Army provocateur.

A lot of purists have shed some tears over Springsteen's decision to add overdubs to his old recordings. This revisionist history has become a bit of a genre these days with albums like Paul McCartney's Let It Be...Naked or the Rolling Stones' recent release of Exile on Main Street and even Brian Wilson's SMiLE. How can there be anything wrong with an artist choosing to alter his own work? The songs might not have benefited from the added work but it's not like he's finishing some lost Jim Morrison bootlegs. In releasing these tracks he has already yielded to some higher marketing power, otherwise he would have released them 30-something years ago. The man wants to do all he can to protect his integrity while preserving his brand. So aside from the added strings and vocals Springsteen has recorded a new song, "Save My Love"--a textbook "Springsteen" song with cascading piano octaves, precision drumming and a soaring chorus. It fits right alongside the other songs, which attests to both the sturdiness of his trademark sound as well as his willingness to exploit it.

The Promise is rather great as a collection of outtakes, but it is an exemplary indicator of the standard that Springsteen upheld in releasing his long-awaited follow-up. As an album, the collection falls a little short of coherence. The quantity of tracks is enough to indicate that it was never intended as an album. The best tracks were chosen for Darkness on the Edge of Town.

Nothing touches the greatness of songs like "Streets of Fire" or "Adam Raised a Cain" for sheer exuberance and screeching guitar. Springsteen is at his jaded best on Darkness, sneering alongside the rest of his generation in denim and a bandana rather than leather and a mohawk. Now in his 60s, Springsteen has lived long enough to see his work interpreted by multiple generations. He has received considerable hints to what his legacy will be. With Promise, he is responding as he sees fit. Who wouldn't, at the age of 61, change of few things they might have done when they were 25?

Springsteen's The Promise @ LA Weekly

Rock & Rule - LA Weekly

Rock & Rule dvd review for LA Weekly's "West Coast Sound"

How many big-budget rock and roll movies were made by Canadian animators in the early 1980s? How many of them featured at least one cast member from SCTV, the voice-over work of journeyman Don Francks, and a song by Cheap Trick? Well, at least two.

Heavy Metal is the quintessential animated science-fiction rock film; a attention-deficit-friendly collection of intergalactic vignettes brimming with hard rock (Blue Oyster Cult, Grand Funk Railroad) and familiar funnymen (Eugene Levy, John Candy).

Rock & Rule, which was released two years later in 1983, traded Stevie Nicks and Sammy Hagar's sun-bleached smiles for Debbie Harry and Lou Reed's Lower East Side sleaze, set in a Blade Runner-esque post-nuclear cityscape, inhabited by wet-nosed mutants equipped with electric guitars and expertly blow-dried hair. And after 25 years (and then some) Lou, Debbie, Iggy Pop and Cheap Trick are finally released on Blu-Ray by Unearthed this week.

Despite its bleak setting Rock & Rule was the more family-friendly film of the two. Its plotline and animation style forms a strange link between Fritz the Cat and Thundercats--boobs but no nipple, drugs but no needles. The plot revolves around a four-piece rock band whose songs are provided by both Cheap Trick and Blondie.

Angel, the confident heroine of the story, is kidnapped by Mok, an aging rock superstar resembling Mick Jagger, circa 2065. She is kidnapped because her voice has the ability to summon a rather cumbersome fire demon with a penchant for Debbie Harry and glowing pentagrams. The rest of the band set out for Nuke York to rescue her with a little participation from Iggy Pop and Catherine O'Hara, the Jane Curtin of Canada.

Most of the songs composed for the film are kind of forgettable; tossed-off tracks from middle-aged downtowners, restless and a little too hungry for work. Cheap Trick kick it off with a anthemic bang and Debbie Harry has a few good ballads. Lou Reed's main contribution is a driving monotone rocker complete with Brill Building girls "sha-la-la"ing behind him but the standout track, oddly enough, is Earth, Wind, & Fire's funky club jam "Dance, Dance, Dance." It's a mixed bag of rock songs that was at least worthy of an official soundtrack album. Alas, funds dried up long before that point.

For all the work that went into the film ($2 million a year in studio costs over four years) it never saw wide release in North America. By the time they were ready for distribution all of their studio champions had moved on to other jobs and it ended up shelved for over twenty years; surfacing only as fill-in material for HBO and Showtime in the '80s and circulating on bootleg VHS tapes often incorrectly crediting Ralph Bakshi as the director. (It was Clive A. Smith.)

It wasn't until 2005 that the film was granted a home video release. This week it is being released on Blu-Ray in a special 25th anniversary edition--two years too late. Still: definitely one of the top two barely released Canadian rock and roll cartoons from the 1980s.

Rock & Rule @ LA Weekly

Cory Weeds & Joey DeFrancesco - All About Jazz

The Many Deeds of Cory Weeds
Cory Weeds & Joey DeFrancesco (Cellar Live)

Snapshot
Joey DeFrancesco (High Note)


This pair of live recordings featuring organist Joey
DeFrancesco finds him in two very different mindsets.
The Many Deeds of Cory Weeds, recorded in Vancouver,
puts DeFrancesco behind saxist Cory Weeds alongside
Chris Davis (trumpet) and Byron Landham (drums),
playing with a straightahead vigor, blasting through
hardbop classics. Snapshot sets DeFrancesco in a classic
jazz organ trio with guitarist Paul Bollenback and
Landham once more, using a greater sense of space to
create a more modern record.

The Many Deeds opens with Horace Silver’s “Juicy
Lucy”. Weeds confidently struts through a tasteful
solo with Davis close on his heels, spouting gravelly
lines over the rhythm section’s unerring sense of
swing. “Goin’ Down” is a great boogaloo vehicle for
DeFrancesco’s funky fingers to build an explosion of
syncopated vibrato. The album features two Hank
Mobley tunes: “Fin de L’Affaire” and “Boss Bossa”.
The former, a steamy ballad, brings out the best in
Weeds’ delicate touch while the latter features Davis
evoking Clifford Brown through his breathless runs.
DeFrancesco’s unwavering basslines provide
invaluable support, embracing his inner Jimmy Smith
with split-brained precision. In just eight tunes, half
over ten minutes, The Many Deeds is an excellent oldschool
blowing session that never seems excessive.

Snapshot is a reunion for DeFrancesco. Guitarist
Paul Bollenback left DeFrancesco’s band some time
ago but has joined up again to revel in the band’s 15-
year history. Bollenback’s choppy, staccato notes blaze
across the record, drawing DeFrancesco into more
adventurous support from his basslines to his
syncopated chord clusters. The album opens with Ron
Carter’s “Eighty One”. Unlike with The Many Deeds
DeFrancesco gets some chordal support, which allows
him to drift a little further into reharmonization and
dissonance. Harold Land’s “Ode to Angela” highlights
Bollenback’s ethereal accompaniment behind
DeFrancesco’s soaring, quick-fire lines, with a few
cheeky quotes in between. The Eddy Arnold classic
“You Don’t Know Me” gets a slow, gospel reworking with
Landham’s chiming cymbal pushing the band
into the more soulful corners of their instruments
while “Fly Me to the Moon” goes in directions Frank
Sinatra would probably have had trouble following;
pedal tones build the tension while the band makes a
tried and true standard new again.

Snapshot proves that the DeFrancesco trio never
lost their musical connection with telepathic shifts
occurring with every chorus. Here’s hoping their
partnership is renewed for a few more albums.

Cory Weeds & Joey DeFrancesco @ All About Jazz - New York

Bill Cunliffe - All About Jazz

Three's Company
Bill Cunliffe & Holly Hoffman (Capri)

Bill Cunliffe, long a fixture of both Southern
California’s cover charge and course reader scene, has
been working with flutist Holly Hofmann for over two
decades. Three’s Company, their third recorded
collaboration, finds the duo aided by an allstar cast of
musicians.

The album opens with a duet on Burton Lane’s
“Too Late Now” in a limited, Claude Bolling-esque
interplay before giving way to a more guttural and
swinging partnership that lasts for the remainder of
the record. “Dalto”, the second track, is the first of
Cunliffe’s four contributions to the album. A persistent
syncopated bass line opens the track before Cunliffe
sparingly implies it below his own solo. Hofmann’s
approach, rising and falling in quick-fire steps, is
supported by Cunliffe’s unwavering montuno.
The first trio formation comes courtesy of violinist
Regina Carter who, alongside Hofmann’s underscoring,
string-like vibrato, works through a rendition of
Strayhorn’s “Star-Crossed Lovers”,
simmering through nine minutes of nuanced phrasing
and glissandos. Carter’s contribution, the only
stringed instrument on the album, is refreshingly
subdued, free of the electric baroque figures that can
riddle her more uptempo performances.

The titular following track, a Hofmann original, is
a swiftly driven tune with Cunliffe providing sparse
clusters behind her and trumpeter Terell Stafford. The
trio is at their swinging best with Stafford’s muted
trumpet spinning across the changes. Cunliffe’s Bud
Powell-indebted bop tirade follows effortlessly while a
minimal left hand bookmarks the chord changes.
Cunliffe’s “Reunion”, which features clarinet
throwback Ken Peplowski breathing in unison
alongside Hofmann, finds a symphonic touch as the
two winds wind through Cunliffe’s ten-fingered
orchestra, eventually pitting the two soloists against
each other while Cunliffe holds down the fort. Fauré’s
“Pavane” restores things to duo status with Cunliffe
and Hofmann ebbing through a gentle, chamber
performance, achingly slow before closing with
Hofmann fluttering around the lower register while
Cunliffe lays down a gentle bassline.

The last two tracks are a pair of Cunliffe
goodbyes: “Sweet Andy”, his tribute to bassist Andy
Simpkins featuring drummer Alvester Garnett’s
nimble brushes and punctual bass drum, and
“Farewell”, wrapping up the album with just Cunliffe
and Hofmann. Three’s Company finds the duo creating
well-seasoned instrumentals with and without the
help of their virtuosic contemporaries.

Bill Cunliffe & Holly Hoffman @ All About Jazz - New York

Orange Sunshine - LA Record

Orange Sunshine - book review & interview for LA Record

Orange Sunshine
By Nick Schou

When people see a book about acid they feel compelled to share their personal stories – often too personal. But few question how that little tab traveled from some Bay Area chemistry lab to the center of their innermost fears. Nick Schou’s new Orange Sunshine charts the rise and fall of the Brotherhood of Eternal Love – an organization that reached from the resin-coated hookahs of Afghanistan to the hem of Tim Leary’s tunic. During the mid 1960s, psychedelic swami John Griggs helped create what would become one of the largest smuggling organizations in the United States – distributing extravagantly obtained bricks of hash and LSD out of a small storefront on Pacific Coast Highway in Laguna Beach. (The group supplied Hendrix with the titular tabs in Hawaii during his Rainbow Bridge concert.) Eventually cocaine blew the whole organization to pieces, leading to homelessness, arrests and a few fatal overdoses. Through extensive interviews and painstaking research, Schou, a staff writer for OC Weekly, presents a precise and unbiased view of one of the most radical organizations to come out of Orange County.

Does anyone appear to have held on to the money they made?

With few exceptions, nobody in the Brotherhood got rich. A couple of guys managed to get out of the business and reinvest their money in real estate, so they are now retired and playing golf and meditating at nice resort-style ashrams. A lot of them spent years in jail and others became addicted to cocaine in the 70s and endured harrowing experiences behind bars in third world prisons, so you really have the whole range of outcomes – some redemptive, others tragic.

How many times did you have to watch Rainbow Bridge? Are you concerned about what that may have done to your psyche?

I actually discovered Rainbow Bridge in college, when I was listening to a lot of Hendrix. I thought the film was a joke. After I realized how it fit into the story, I watched it again and still had no idea what the hell was going on. The scene with the hash inside the surfboard used to be on YouTube, so I was able to transcribe the dialogue from there. There are other clips on YouTube, but the only part of the film I enjoy is when Jimi plays ‘Hey Baby, Land of the New Rising Sun’ to the Brothers and their friends at the end of the film. The movie is mostly painful. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s been used to torture detainees at Guantanamo Bay.

Do you think getting Jimi Hendrix to perform on the edge of a volcano in Hawaii was the greatest stoned epiphany ever actualized?

Despite the really poor sound quality and drugged-out vibe, the performance on the slope of Haleakala includes some of Jimi’s best playing, and it captures him right before his untimely death. Supposedly he shared Chuck Wein’s belief in extraterrestrials. Brotherhood guys who surfed in the movie insist that a ‘Mothership’ full of ‘Space Brothers’ did flyovers during filming – but the reels came out blank.

Orange Sunshine
By Nick Schou

When people see a book about acid they feel compelled to share their personal stories – often too personal. But few question how that little tab traveled from some Bay Area chemistry lab to the center of their innermost fears. Nick Schou’s new Orange Sunshine charts the rise and fall of the Brotherhood of Eternal Love – an organization that reached from the resin-coated hookahs of Afghanistan to the hem of Tim Leary’s tunic. During the mid 1960s, psychedelic swami John Griggs helped create what would become one of the largest smuggling organizations in the United States – distributing extravagantly obtained bricks of hash and LSD out of a small storefront on Pacific Coast Highway in Laguna Beach. (The group supplied Hendrix with the titular tabs in Hawaii during his Rainbow Bridge concert.) Eventually cocaine blew the whole organization to pieces, leading to homelessness, arrests and a few fatal overdoses. Through extensive interviews and painstaking research, Schou, a staff writer for OC Weekly, presents a precise and unbiased view of one of the most radical organizations to come out of Orange County.

Does anyone appear to have held on to the money they made?

With few exceptions, nobody in the Brotherhood got rich. A couple of guys managed to get out of the business and reinvest their money in real estate, so they are now retired and playing golf and meditating at nice resort-style ashrams. A lot of them spent years in jail and others became addicted to cocaine in the 70s and endured harrowing experiences behind bars in third world prisons, so you really have the whole range of outcomes – some redemptive, others tragic.

How many times did you have to watch Rainbow Bridge? Are you concerned about what that may have done to your psyche?

I actually discovered Rainbow Bridge in college, when I was listening to a lot of Hendrix. I thought the film was a joke. After I realized how it fit into the story, I watched it again and still had no idea what the hell was going on. The scene with the hash inside the surfboard used to be on YouTube, so I was able to transcribe the dialogue from there. There are other clips on YouTube, but the only part of the film I enjoy is when Jimi plays ‘Hey Baby, Land of the New Rising Sun’ to the Brothers and their friends at the end of the film. The movie is mostly painful. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s been used to torture detainees at Guantanamo Bay.

Do you think getting JImi Hendrix to perform on the edge of a volcano in Hawaii was the greatest stoned epiphany ever actualized?

Despite the really poor sound quality and drugged-out vibe, the performance on the slope of Haleakala includes some of Jimi’s best playing, and it captures him right before his untimely death. Supposedly he shared Chuck Wein’s belief in extraterrestrials. Brotherhood guys who surfed in the movie insist that a ‘Mothership’ full of ‘Space Brothers’ did flyovers during filming – but the reels came out blank.

Orange Sunshine @ LA Record

Hesitation Blues #1 - LA Record

Hesitation Blues - LA Record

It's that time of year when old jazzbos are trotted off to European festivals to breathe some fresh air and teach high school kids how to play a blues scale on their days off. While they are out spending their increasingly valueless Euros, the rest of us are left with the weakest season of the jazz calendar. Unless you dig those breezy, barefoot, strolling-on-the-beach, saxophone-and-wind -chime sounds, you've got some slim pickings this summer.

While the Jazz Bakery continues to jump from one melting iceberg to another in search of a permanent home, they will stop August 1 at the Silent Movie Theatre for the LA premiere of The Anatomy of Vince Guaraldi, the pianist everyone of a certain age knows for the dance scene in A Charlie Brown Christmas. But Guaraldi was already well-known by the time he met Charles Schulz and co., coming off early work with Cal Tjader and Mongo Santamaria and a surprise B-side hit called "Cast Your Fate to the Wind." Anatomy presents pretty-much-thought-lost period footage of prime Guaraldi with unreleased recordings and commentary from everyone from Dave Brubeck to Paul "The Realist" Krassner.

Kenny Burrell - guitarist, educator, Ellington's #1 fan - is one of our most treasured local (by way of Detroit) elder statesmen. His status in the jazz community looms large thanks to his performances with Jimmy Smith, John Coltrane and Bill Evans. Burrell's effortless authority over his guitar and his sidemen is compelling not only to listen to but also to watch. Never a drop of sweat on that guy. Burrell will return to Hollywood's Catalina Bar and Grill for his annual engagement August 5-7. As long as the synth strings stay home, there should be some great meaty guitar lines provided by a nattily dressed professional.

Herbie Hancock is one of those guys that you think is older than he really is. He may have played with Miles in the early 60s, but he was still in his early thirties when he released Head Hunters. It's safe to say he probably has the largest keytar collection of any 70-year-old man. This is part of the problem of encountering Herbie Hancock in the 21st century. Sometimes he acts like an old jazz cat and sometimes he acts like a middle-aged pop star. Unfortunately, the old jazz cat doesn't seem to have had much input in Hancock's curated jazz series at the Hollywood Bowl this season. This is my problem more than his. Nevertheless, I wouldn't miss a night with blues guitar greats Buddy Guy and BB King on August 11. Guy, who reached sweat-drenched heights alongside Junior Wells in the late 60s while everybody else ripped his style and fizzled out, still rocks the polka-dot guitar like no one else. King has outlasted even more - playing nearly as many shows as there are seats at the Bowl.

LA Record Issue 100

Antonio Sanchez - All About Jazz

Live in New York at Jazz Standard
Antonio Sanchez (CAMJazz)

When seated behind the drums Antonio Sanchez
takes on an intense command of every sixteenth note
that swings through his wrists, navigating an
unwavering groove through myriad twists and turns.
In just under two hours, Live in New York at Jazz
Standard thunders across two discs and eight tunes
with pinpoint precision and a white-knuckle pace.
Aided by bassist Scott Colley and saxophonists David
Sanchez (tenor) and Miguel Zenon (alto), the album
was recorded at the end of a tour nearly two years ago.

The quartet, free of the chordal restrictions of
piano or guitar, is an extremely tight ensemble, like a
flock of birds jutting out in one direction before
instinctively turning into a driving pulse, seemingly
unannounced but without any member missing a cue.
The album opens with the saxophonists locked in tight
harmony, jumping around the spastic intervals of
Sanchez’ “Greedy Silence”. After a simultaneous horn
duel each launches into the stratosphere. Sanchez’
“Ballade” plays the horns off of each other in gentle
swoops while brushes spaciously crash across the
drumkit. The second disc, equally lithe and
propulsive, highlights more of Sanchez’ compositional
talents, opening with the heavy funk of “It Will Be
Better” and closing with “Challenge Within”, a
cowbell-driven smattering of polyrhythms that is
feverishly complex yet melodic.

Throughout the record Sanchez is masterfully
supportive, drifting into avant garde realms without
losing sight of the pulse. What space is left by the hardhitting
saxophonists and Colley’s hyper-kinetic
walking, if not running, is filled by Sanchez’ busy
hands and feet, sounding at times like two or three
drummers. Sanchez’ exuberance can be a little
exhausting at times but the record provides enough
room for the listener to breath before ripping into
another fast-paced exploration. This is music that
demands attention and rewards the listener with
astounding moments of interaction and trust.


Antonio Sanchez @ All About Jazz - New York

James Moody - All About Jazz

4B
James Moody (IPO)

Unlike tennis players or eggs, musicians can get
better with age. Taste overrides technique, comfort
supplants competition. James Moody, now in his
eighth decade as a professional musician, does not
have to prove anything to anyone. 4B, the sequel to last
year’s 4A, is an equally eloquent stroll through the
American songbook, aided by relative young-blood
Kenny Barron on piano, appropriately named bassist
Todd Coolman and ever-present drummer Lewis
Nash. Six out of the nine songs on this album could
have been recorded at Moody’s first recording session
in 1948. The other three are provided by Barron,
Coolman and fellow tenor giant Benny Golson.

The album opens with Barron’s solo stride
through “Take the A Train” before the rest of the band
jumps in at the bridge with a brisker pace and Moody
takes the first solo with economic twists and turns. For
the ordinarily upbeat “Hot House” Moody slows the
tempo and takes an extended solo before giving way to
Barron’s nimble fingers and Coolman’s honey-toned
exploration. Tadd Dameron’s altered progressions,
alongside “Polka Dots & Moonbeams”, make up a
third of the album’s running time. “Speak Low” is
given a jaunty bossa beat while Cole Porter’s “I Love
You” gets a more romantic but similarly South
American-influenced interpretation with Barron
soloing distinctly through double-timed riffs on both
tracks. Coolman’s Pettiford tribute “O.P. Update”,
with its harmonized lines between the bass and
saxophone, fits in amidst the mid-century feel of the
repertoire. The composer’s solo states its case before
Moody jumps in with his funkiest lead on the album.
The pianist’s subdued “Nikara’s Song” and Golson’s
“Along Came Betty” serve two sides of the same coin;
the former highlighting Moody’s sensitive side while
the latter brings out his more meaty tones. A delicate,
brush-driven, start-stop take on “But Not for Me”
closes out the record with Moody tacking on a fluent
and boastful coda.

4B is a worthy companion to its predecessor with
Moody taking on songs that he could probably play in
his sleep, alongside consummate professionals who
have no trouble supporting the master with an hour of
unwavering swing and tasteful solos.


James Moody @ All About Jazz - New York

Charlie Hunter - All About Jazz

Gentlemen I Neglected To Inform You
You Will Not Be Getting Paid
Charlie Hunter (Spire Artist Media)

Gentlemen I Neglected To Inform You You Will Not Be
Getting Paid, recorded in Brooklyn last summer, is
seven-string guitarist Charlie Hunter’s 17th record as a
leader. For this outing Hunter plucks and strums his
way across nine radio-friendly tracks (only one is more
than five minutes long) with solid drumming from Eric
Kalb and the unobtrusive assistance of two trombones
(Alan Ferber, Curtis Fowlkes) and a trumpet (Eric
Biondo). The tunes, all written by Hunter, never stray
too far from a laidback groove that rarely enlivens the
pulse but still provides enough soulful riffage.
The seven-stringed guitar is divided into three
bass strings and four guitar strings, allowing Hunter to
occupy both roles simultaneously. His level of selfreliance
exists on a plane usually reserved for pianists
and organists. Hunter has made this technique a
permanent part of his sound, which, even in its
quietest moments, requires the utmost attention to
balance and originality.

The record opens with Hunter’s inimitable
interplay leisurely chopping out chords while his
thumb strolls below before the horns jump in with
brassy puffs of sound to fill out the tune. Throughout
the record the horn section mostly serves to backup
Hunter’s solos. Occasionally he lets them reach beyond
the charts and use a little soloing muscle but often
reins them in before they can go too far out. The record
serves mostly as a vehicle for Hunter’s likable blend of
R&B and jazz, supporting spacious guitar lines with
rock-solid bass. “High and Dry” shows off Hunter’s
ability to play brisk and drowsy simultaneously while
“Ode to My Honda Odyssey”, a tribute to his touring
chariot, allows Hunter to dig deep into a vibrato-laden
solo while the horns hover in the background, egging
him on.

The independent voices emanating from Hunter’s
amplifier sound more and more distinct with each
passing release. This record, with its vintage
instrumentation and production (“In glorious mono”
boasts the cover!) emphasizes grooves over flash,
proving that Hunter has yet to run out of challenges
for his over-worked fingers.

Charlie Hunter @ All About Jazz - New York

Phil Woods - All About Jazz

Phil Woods review - All About Jazz - New York

Solitude (with DePaul
Univ. Jazz Ensemble)
Phil Woods
(Jazzed Media)

Come Right In
(with Phil Woods)
N. Glenn Davis Quintet
(Jazzed Media)

Bop master Phil Woods has still got all the gusto he
had when he blew into the Prestige studios over 55
years ago. At a weeklong appearance at Dizzy’s Club
last month the alto saxist showed off his effortless
versatility alongside his longtime, similarly grayhaired
rhythm section, swinging to a full house every
set. So it’s no surprise to hear him sounding equally
youthful on this pair of recent releases.

Solitude features a spry Woods fronting Chicago’s
massive DePaul University Jazz Ensemble playing ten
of the saxist’s tunes, recorded over three sessions
during the 2008-2009 school year. From the opening
sand-strewn pulse of “Brazilian Affair” to the
syncopated shout of “Ol’ Dude”, Woods keeps a strong
presence amidst the vibraphones, countless
woodwinds and bass trombones. The students, who
not only mastered the arrangements but also wrote
some of them, provide all the necessary support for
Woods’ bop-based flights while also contributing a
few solid solos of their own. “Song for Sass”, Woods’
tribute to Sarah Vaughan, features a great fluttering
solo from trumpeter Scott Dickinson while bombastic
closer “Mother Time” is highlighted by a confident
solo by vibraphonist Justin Thomas. Woods is
excellent throughout, playing breakneck wails and
great bop lines over the well-groomed collegiate
band’s swing.

Come Right In finds Woods transforming drummer
N. Glenn Davis’ Quintet into a sextet for only three
tunes on his newest release. In between the tight
ensemble works its way through a couple of standards
including a simmering “If You Could See Me Now”
and a collection of hard-swinging originals. The album
opens with “A Different Day”, a Blue Note-indebted
tune of breaks and riffs before eminence grisé Woods
gets first crack at a solo, wailing a way at a spiraling
jaunt through the burning changes. Barreling close
behind him is trumpeter Jack Schantz whose twisting
phrases drive the band even harder, popping up
throughout the record with succinct blasts from his
horn. From those opening three minutes the band
continues to drive for nearly an hour. “Just a Tadd”,
Davis’ tribute to fellow Clevelander Tadd Dameron,
features more alto expertise from Woods while the
bossa “Warm Smile”, with its literal nods to Jobim,
starts off slow before ending in a swinging cacophony
of dueling solos. Overall the album is a confident,
swinging disc. Davis has written some interesting
compositions, which benefit from the intensity of his
bandmates and boosted by the presence of Woods, but
are in no way lost without them.

Phil Woods @ All About Jazz - New York

Alan Rich - LA Record

Alan Rich: 1924 - 2010

Alan was a great mentor to me. He read a few of my silly little articles when I was just starting and he didn't immediately rip them up and throw them in my face. I thought that was a good sign. I had dinner with him a few times and attended a few shows with him - great seats! He also introduced me to Raymond Richards who recorded and released the last two Leviathan Brothers records. Alan helped me tremendously and I will always remember that. Here is the rememberance I wrote about him for the LA Record - unshakable publishers of a new generation of smart-assed writers and the first place to encourage the Cult of SOC.

From the LA Record - (2/29/10)

“I am a member of an endangered species. Encountering dangerous members of the species makes me frightened or sick, especially at 82. I happen to think that I am better than a lot of them, on the strength of having studied with superior teachers and stayed awake in their classrooms.”
—Alan Rich

I first met Alan while working for the box office of Walt Disney Concert Hall. We got along well because I was the only lackey that didn’t ask to see his photo ID every week when he picked up his tickets. Being a regular reader of his weekly column didn’t hurt either. There isn’t a writer out there who can resist the satisfaction of knowing that someone is actually reading the words they hammered out in passionate solitude. Alan was no exception. When he was unceremoniously canned in 2008 by LA Weekly’s “Phoenix-based bean-counters who evaluate every word in their chain of papers against the income they produce,” he was understandably devastated, having had his internationally recognized voice silenced after 50 years of unrivaled observations and cantankerous wit. As any unemployed 80-something-year-old would do, he started a blog and, more importantly to him, began remodeling his kitchen—a project he referred to as his true gift to the world.

Alan Rich and George Bush Sr. were born five days apart in 1924, in Milton, Massachusetts, where stone-walled property lines date back to the days of John Quincy Adams and every house has as many chimneys as bathrooms. Although he attended Harvard in pursuit of a medical degree, Alan veered off the path—much to his parents’ dismay—toward a career in music journalism. He often said that it wasn’t until he had introduced his parents to his friend Leonard Bernstein that they accepted his career choice. After college he bounced around the world, helping to start KPFA and studying the finer points of Viennese musicology before returning to New York to document the ground-breaking work of artists like Philip Glass and Steve Reich. In the 1980s he made a permanent move to Los Angeles where he became an early proponent of Esa-Pekka Salonen and current keeper of the Philharmonic baton, Gustavo Dudamel.

Although he made his living primarily as a commentator on the classical music world, writing for such publications as the New York Times, Newsweek, Variety, New York magazine, and LA Weekly, and closed it with particularly astute observations on the vital work being done in Los Angeles, Rich’s career would make any music writer—or reader—green with envy. His stories of being flown to meet up-and-comer David Bowie in London, or having a dinner of metaphorical entrees and unbaked bread with John Cage, or attending the “Howl” obscenity trials, or having lunch with a young Harry Nilsson in New York, or having a roommate who smoked banana peels at the advice of Donovan, or being put in a headlock by Placido Domingo for less than flattering comments about his personal life, or counseling sophomore-slumped neighbor Rivers Cuomo on the finer points of Debussy were fascinating and, most importantly, true.

Alan was unafraid to voice his opinion or take others to task for having ineloquently voiced their own. Alan made a living typing out his diatribes on increasingly complex machinery to an increasingly complex readership without ever sacrificing his intelligence or honest opinion. He was the last of a breed who, in the “good old days,” ran back to the office at intermission to submit a review only to return to the venue for the second half to make sure he wasn’t completely off target. His advice and encouragement will live on in a handful of us, and his beliefs will live on for even more. Rest in peace, Alan—I hope the acoustics are good in the afterlife.

—S.O.C.

Remembering Alan Rich @ LA Record

Zungguzungguguzungguzeng - the District

From the District - (2/17/10)

It’s that time of year when yellow, red and green overtake the streets of downtown and the smell of jazz cigarettes defiantly wafts above helpless ushers in the Long Beach Arena. This weekend, the two-day Ragga Muffins festival, formerly known as the Bob Marley Day festival, celebrates its 29th year of everything irie. Equally full of legends and newcomers, the festival is bound to provide enough dub, jah and riddim to keep most everyone happy until next February. Here’s who to look for:

GREGORY ISAACS Jamaican-born crooner Gregory Isaacs is the king of lovers rock. His pleading voice is as steeped in Philly soul as it is in the Kingston beat. Although his recordings have appeared on over 500 albums, Isaacs’ biggest success came when he cooed over a loping beat and synthesizer on his 1982 Island record Night Nurse, pining for a little love and medical assistance. After a debilitating addiction to cocaine—wherein he lost most of his teeth and hardened his vocal pipes—Isaacs returned to the concert stage and recording studio in the ’00s.

YELLOWMAN “Zungguzungguguzungguzeng” has to be one of the greatest song titles ever written. Cocky showstopper Yellowman barked his 1983 hit to widespread recognition, introducing his rapid-fire vocal style to a world of budding hip-hoppers who would later sample the hell out of it (e.g., Tupac, Biggie, Mos Def). In recent years, he has dedicated himself to singing about more spiritual concerns. Raised in a Jamaican orphanage, Yellowman is definitely reggae’s most successful albino/cancer survivor/sex symbol.

BARRINGTON LEVY Barrington Levy released his album debut at the age of 14. By that point, he was already a dancehall mainstay. By the mid ’80s, still only in his 20s, Levy had had a string of hits in Jamaica and the UK, including “Mary Long Tongue,” “Love of Jah” and “Robberman.” His swaggering vocals appeared on hundreds of singles before earning his Long Beach stripes by collaborating with both Snoop Dogg and the Long Beach Dub All-Stars in the late ’90s.

KEN BOOTHE Mr. Rock Steady is the elder statesman of this party. A veteran of the Trojan Records scene, Boothe began his recording career in the late ’50s. He found success several years later with a few laid-back covers of songs by Jackie Wilson and Wilson Pickett before striking it big with a reworking of Bread’s “Everything I Own,” which became a surprise #1 hit in the UK in 1974. His quavering, unmatched tenor and personal style should have made him a far bigger star than he was. Bonus points for being mentioned in the Clash’s “White Man in Hammersmith Palais.”

BIG YOUTH Jamaican DJ Manley Buchanan’s unmistakable squeal was first heard on 1972’s “The Killer.” From there he and his dreads toasted their way across Jamaica, eventually amassing seven singles on the charts at one time. Big Youth’s style of punchy riffing over producers’ tracks was a decade-early influence on the hip-hop movement. His grill, however, was an even bigger influence, with his teeth capped in the colors of the Rasta flag.

SHAGGY Gulf War veteran Shaggy was the most successful major-label bid at reggae marketing. “Mr. Boombastic,” his 1995 single, sold over one million copies in the US, leading to more than a fair share of vocalists imitating his Jamaica-by-way-of-Brooklyn baritone to considerably less acclaim. The 2000 radio mainstay “It Wasn’t Me” was an even bigger hit, juxtaposing Shaggy’s low-end with a straight-ahead R&B chorus. Not quite a one-hit wonder, Shaggy has made more money and sold more albums than the rest of the festival’s artists combined. Does this mean he’s a better artist? No, but he might be the only artist this weekend that your mom can sing along with.

THE 29TH ANNUAL RAGGA MUFFINS FESTIVAL LONG BEACH ARENA • 300 E OCEAN BLVD • LONG BEACH 90802 • 562.436.3636 • SAT-SUN 1PM • $38-55 •

Zungguzungguguzungguzeng @ the District

Spoke 'N' Words - The District

From the District - (02/10/10)

Last month David Byrne presented a trial run of this week’s TED lecture, “Creativity in Reverse,” for a full house of cross-legged beardos on a desolate strip in Brooklyn. Fittingly, after opening the microphone to a lengthy question-and-answer, it seemed more than half the questions were about bicycles. As hipster spokesperson for the pedaling masses, Byrne is known first as the lead singer of the Talking Heads, and second as a guy who likes to ride bikes (Academy Award-winning composer, conceptual artist and funky dancer round out the top five). Since the early 1980s he has been a fixture of New York streets, dodging potholes between art galleries and concert stages. Eventually he took to bringing a bike on tour with him as a way of seeing whatever paved location he found himself in that day. His newest book, Bicycle Diaries, is a scattershot tour of such far-flung regions as Buenos Aries, London and San Francisco as seen from a banana seat. Much like his blog of disjointed observations, Byrne takes on everything from the loneliness of Nazi war criminals to the history of PowerPoint, stringing them all together with a low-speed travelogue of the world’s unique offerings—Filipino karaoke stalls, Australian seaside cemeteries, Detroit’s industrial ruins, etc. His ruminations are insightful but occasionally a little naïve (or is it optimistic?), with an ample amount of profanity peppered throughout. Although he does not dedicate a chapter to Los Angeles, he makes numerous references to our “residential theme park,” where sidewalks abruptly end and people are imprisoned by their own cars—the seeming antithesis of his idyllic Manhattan lifestyle. Byrne provides a convincing argument for the role of the bicycle—both socially and economically—by addressing what has worked and failed abroad (more roads = more traffic jams!), as well as at home (bike lanes, bike racks). His 30-year perspective gives him credibility, while his eccentricities prevent the text from being overly preachy. Now, if only he could find a helmet that wouldn’t mess up his hair, everything would be perfect.

BICYCLE DIARIES BY DAVID BYRNE • VIKING ADULT • 320 PAGES • $25.95


Bicycle Diaries @ the District

Drink of the Week - The District

From the District Weekly - (01/27/10)

Among Orange County’s little cottonwoods lies a windowless rumpus room known as the Sportsman. From the looks of the clientele, these sports seem to consist mostly of darts and Big Buck Hunter. From the looks of the barmaids, these sports also include a little snowboarding and underwear shopping. Los Alamitos does not do much to promote the fact that it houses a bikini bar, but there they were: pleasant, young women, walking around on designer stilts and wearing less than a napkin’s-worth of fabric. When we arrived at the Sportsman between droplets of rain, the patrons—which included but one woman—were more focused on the Lakers game than on the scantily-clad staff standing between them and the TV set. Although the hard liquor was low-priced and high-quality, the majority of drinks consumed on this night were bottled beers. (It’s not very healthy to be dipping in and out of an ice-lined fridge all day without the assistance of a little goose down, but hey, these women are professionals.) Aside from bending at the waist and cracking open frosty MGDs, the ladies also flexed their skills with a few house specialties—fruity concoctions of indeterminate alcohol content that make everything from the eyes to the toes twitch. Having already surrendered my masculinity by inquiring about the specials in the first place, I settled on the Juicy Pear. Now, pears can make a fine brandy, but in the hands of these nubile mixologists they are downright dangerous. Sugary and sweet, the drink tastes like a can of pears rinsed with vodka and strained with a little ice. Consume three or four of them, and who knows what could happen? As to who exactly orders these cloudy libations, tonight it was just me—and I was there strictly for research. Journalism can be such strenuous work.

THE SPORTSMAN 11133 LOS ALAMITOS BLVD • LOS ALAMITOS 90720 • 562.596.7360

Drink of the Week @ the District

No Words - The District

From the District - (1/13/10)

With his ever-present hat and guitar, Keb’ Mo’ looks like he could be standing at the Crossroads—a hundred years ago. In reality, few people realize one of Kevin Moore’s crossroads is the 710 freeway. Born in Compton in 1951 to parents of Southern descent, Moore immersed himself in the guitar as a child, learning the history of the blues—from the rural git-box pickers to the juke-joint slingers. In the early 1970s, he began sharing his findings with the listening public, backing psychedelic violinist Papa John Creach. But with the release of his solo debut in the mid 1990s, he became Keb’ Mo’, a blues-rooted troubadour with a grandfather-like approachability that brought him out of the blues circuit and into a wider public radio subscriber demographic.

An inoffensive blend of Delta blues and pop songwriting, 1994’s Keb’ Mo’ found a mainstream audience that helped to earn Moore a Grammy award for Best Contemporary Blues Album for his second record, Just Like You. Since then he has released six more albums of 21st-century Delta blues to an ever-widening fan base (and with cred-questionable appearances alongside Amy Grant and on Touched By An Angel). Still, when he boils it down to just voice and guitar, Moore can silence a room, whether there are 10 or 1,000 people sitting before him. His voice, a soulfully deliberate tenor, belies his origins, implying more swamps than paved rivers. And while sliding up and down his dobro’s neck, Moore’s bottle-sheathed pinky can connect a string of choice notes in a way few other performers can.

For his homecoming show, Moore will be solo, multitasking his way through some loping blues with that inimitable voice, a harmonica, a guitar and a well-heeled shoe tapping out the downbeat. Last fall he self-released a live album highlighting his charm and effortlessness before a crowd. Dust off your fedora and witness it for yourself.

KEB’ MO’ CERRITOS CENTER FOR THE PERFORMING ARTS • 12700 CENTER COURT DR SOUTH • CERRITOS 90703 • 800.300.4345 • SAT 8PM • $41-65 •

No Words @ the District

Troubador Tradition - The District

From the District - (o1/o6/1o)

Rufus Wainwright is a busy guy. After the release of his self-titled debut in 1998—a theatrical approach to pop songwriting that highlighted his drowsy baritone, buoyed by string arrangements from Van Dyke Parks and production from Jon Brion—the piano-playing troubadour has since released four more albums, as well as a note-for-note performance of Judy Garland’s 1961 Carnegie Hall performance. The son of Loudon Wainwright III and Kate McGarrigle, two earnest folksters of the 1970s, his unapologetic blend of camp and artistry has proven too disjointed for some. Still dissatisfied with his slice of the listening pie, Wainwright has written an opera, Prima Donna, which premiered in England last summer. Although he often laments his lack of mainstream recognition, Wainwright arrived at the premiere dressed as Giuseppe Verdi, complete with top hat and beard, while his boyfriend arrived as Puccini. The battle continues with a forthcoming album and an opera to present to North American audiences. In the build-up, he has been talking to everyone, everywhere. The following is every question squeezed into an assistant-timed conference call that lasted slightly longer than it took Wainwright to operate a lemon zester on Martha Stewart.

The District Weekly: Although you live in New York now, you spent a lot of time in Los Angeles in the 1990s. Where did you stay when you were here?

Rufus Wainwright: I lived all over LA. I lived in Silver Lake and Larchmont. I lived in North Hollywood. I lived at the Oakwood apartments for awhile, which I really loved. I’m being facetious, by the way. I really consider LA the home of my career. I started out there really doing my big shows. The town has always supported me.

You got quite an extensive tour of the area’s studios. Your first album was recorded in 10 different rooms. Do you think that could happen again—that a record label would bankroll such an expensive debut?

It took me about three years to make that first album. Ten studios, at least. But I don’t know. Definitely anything is possible. Arguably, with all the components put into the mix, whether it’s the work of Lenny Waronker or the great arrangements by Van Dyke Parks or the support of DreamWorks, it was just the situation I was in. I don’t think there could be another combination of big elements like that for a new artist. The record label might spend the money, but I think it is highly unlikely to happen again.

There were supposedly 56 songs recorded over that time. What happened to the rest of that material?

They’re in my vault somewhere. I’m not at the point yet where I have to release those. I have a new album coming out called All Days Are Nights: Songs for Lulu. So I don’t need to fall back on that old stuff yet. I’m saving those for when I’m old and in crutches.

Your new record is going to be just voice and piano. What do you think you gain from that approach?

It’s as stripped-down as it gets—unless I’m singing a cappella Irish folk songs. With a lot of my albums I like to have a focus on what I am trying to accomplish. For instance, the Judy Garland record was a chance for my voice to get a good workout. Want One and Want Two were about my own personal struggles with addiction. This new album is about shining a spotlight on my piano playing. I haven’t really been given the chance to show how involved I am with that instrument. There is a lot of very intricate and also simple piano work that I’m excited to share. I’m a strong believer that a singer/songwriter is only as good as when they sing their songs alone. Like my father, sister and mother, we all fit into the troubadour tradition.

Do you like performing solo?

You know, I have to say that I love it—only because it really, really pays well. Artistically it is fantastic, but it’s always fun with a band. Especially when you spend a lot of time out on the road together. But I, along with everyone else in the world, have got to work to make ends meet. I have to sort of watch my ass. This is just part of the way the world is now. We all gotta tighten our belt. But there are a large amount of people in my family [for whom solo performances are] their favorite way of hearing my music.

Of all the second-generation troubadours—Sean Lennon, Jakob Dylan—you sound the least like your father. Each of your family members has very distinct singing styles. What do you think it is that you share with your family?

I think I share a kind of—how can I say this?—very, very intense tastes. You know? Both my mother and father and my sister do not suffer fools, when it comes to music. We might not have all the same opinions—there is stuff that I adore that my mother thinks is utter crap—but our tastes are really high above average. We try to imitate that. We have very high standards—a little too high sometimes.

What do you have planned for the show?

Well, I’ll definitely be singing some of the new songs. I’m in the process of working the new show and creating it. This tour is good practice for after the record comes out. I do want to present something interesting. I’ll probably play one piece from the opera. The opera is going to be performed in London in April. Very soon! Then it will be performed around America. I don’t sing in them, but I’ll go to them.

Have you played Long Beach before?

You know, I may have. I love it. I used to drive out there when I was about to slit my wrists in Culver City.

RUFUS WAINWRIGHT TERRACE THEATER • 300 E OCEAN BLVD • LONG BEACH 90802 • 562.436.3661 • SAT 8PM • $32.50-49.50 •

Troubador Tradition @ the District