Kitchen Boombox Dance Party

Okay, you just read about the unexpected health benefits for your brain that dancing delivers at WTF? Random food for thought. Now here are some tunes to get you dancing, courtesy of YouTube. I love the Internets.

First, I’ve got to start with fellow St. Louisan Chuck Berry and his seminal 1958 rock & roll tune Johnny B. Goode. The oddly bad dancing by the girls on the raised platform is entertaining. The rest of the dancers are much better, and Chuck even does the duck walk for us.

Next, the Rolling Stones mix danceable with dark in perhaps my favorite song of theirs, Gimme Shelter.

A little known fact about this next song. The group’s name was originally Two Tons of Fun. But after the huge hit of It’s Raining Men, they changed their name to the Weather Girls.

Cameo gives us Word Up, another big ’80s hit. They also give us a decidedly weird music video, complete with a cameo appearance by Levar Burton as a dancing detective.

And finally, Talking Heads and Burning Down the House. We used to follow a very cool cover band in St. Louis, The Heaters. They did this song one night at the Broadway Oyster Bar and pretty much burned down the house. Later, they disavowed all knowledge of the event.

There you go. If none of these songs got you dancing, I want a note from your doctor.

Ornette Coleman: Change of the Century

Ornette Coleman: Change of the Century

I wasn’t always into avant garde jazz. In fact, Oliver Lake and his no-holds-barred free jazz actually put me off jazz for a good long while. So as I made my way back into jazz, I gave alto saxophonist Ornette Coleman, one of the major innovators of the free jazz movement, a wide berth.

I’ve since embraced the avant garde, thanks in no small part to Chicago reed player Ken Vandermark. Still, Coleman’s reputation as an inventive and often challenging experimenter with sound is legendary. So when I came across an album of his titled Change of the Century, I was excited to see what all the, um, noise was about. I mean, we’re talking about a man who, early in his career, was assaulted after a performance and his saxophone destroyed.

What I found in this 1959 release was another example of the need for reliable, affordable time travel. My first couple/few listens, it was hard for my less than trained ear to pick up much difference from be bop being played at the time. I’ve heard enough of what has come since that this was just not the revolution I was expecting.

But what I heard from the first listen was really exciting jazz. And the more I listen to it, the more innovative and even angular some of it indeed sounds. Like much of the best jazz I’ve heard, the music is a true collaboration and conversation among all four musicians. There is no leader/sidemen vibe. You couldn’t ask for better collaborators either: Don Cherry on pocket trumpet, Charlie Haden on bass and Billy Higgins on drums. Small wonder that Amazon has named it an essential recording. Maybe Change of the Century isn’t quite what the name promises, but it is part of a sea change in music. Just as important, it’s some great, listenable jazz.

Jump jazz keeps the kitchen hopping

The Mighty Blue kings: Meet Me In Uptown

The kitchen boombox is nothing if not eclectic. Depending on my mood, energy level and even what I’m cooking, it can be playing anything from opera to punk to avant garde jazz to you name it. When I’m looking for high-energy fun to get me going, this album always delivers.

The Mighty Blue Kings debuted in 1995, opening for Junior Wells at Buddy Guy’s club Legends. They soon had a weekly gig at Chicago’s vaunted Green Mill. A renewed interest in jump jazz and swing dancing was just heating up, and these boys were nailing it. Ross Bon’s spot on period vocals backed by tight horn and rhythm sections perfectly captured a vintage sound as they performed a mix of old songs and original tunes that seemed right out of the 40s. The vibe of their live performances was loose-hipped fun.

Soon they were touring more than they were at the Green Mill, and when they did get back to Chicago, the Green Mill was too small to accommodate their crowds. These YouTube clips are from a performance at a larger Chicago venue, Metro. They’ll give you a sense of their style and sound, if not of the energy of those nights in Uptown at the Green Mill.

There are 14 tracks in all on Meet Me In Uptown, a fun mix of uptempo swing and boozy ballads. Together, they’re guaranteed to get me and any visitors to my kitchen moving. You’ll find new and used CDs on Amazon as well as downloadable MP3s. Give them a listen—I think you’ll want to bring a little Uptown to your kitchen too.

Gershwin x 3: Rhapsody in Blue

I saw recently that classical pianist Gary Graffman was performing somewhere in town. That made me think of his most famous recording, the soundtrack of Gershwin music for Woody Allen’s Manhattan. The highlight of the disk, the reason for owning it, is Graffman’s powerful treatment of Rhapsody in Blue—you know, the United Airlines music.

That was reason enough for me to haul out the Manhattan soundtrack CD and pop it in the boombox. For Gershwin, Rhapsody in Blue represented “a sort of musical kaleidoscope of America, of our vast melting pot, of our unduplicated national pep, of our blues, our metropolitan madness.” But for most of us, it is inextricably linked with New York—the grandeur and power, the grittiness and cacophonous energy.

Listening to Graffman capture all of that, sometimes playing alone, sometimes backed by the New York Philharmonic, conducted by Zubin Mehta, I remembered long ago hearing recordings of Gershwin playing Rhapsody in Blue on solo piano. It was of course on YouTube. I love the Internets. Here it is, in two parts.

Here’s part two:

I’m happy to report that Graffman’s performance stands up beautifully in comparison, feeling just as complex, in turn just as powerful, as haunting. And yes, he has an entire orchestra behind him, but he plays long passages solo. When the Manhattan soundtrack came out on vinyl, the first side was Rhapsody in Blue. The second side is a wonderful mix of other Gershwin tunes—some complete songs, others mere snippets—used as incidental music in the film. Ranging from lush, romantic renditions of tunes like Embraceable You and Someone to Watch Over Me to an almost comic treatment of Lady Be Good that never fails to make me think of Bugs Bunny crossing some swell hotel lobby, removing white gloves one finger at a time.

Taken as a whole, this album perfectly mirrors the love letter to New York that Allen’s film was, evoking a New York that, to many, no longer exists. And as wonderful as New York is to me now, it makes me wish I’d known the earlier one too.

And finally, I mentioned the United Airlines advertising campaign that used Rhapsody in Blue. Here’s an example of that, a rare 60-second commercial the airline used to “rededicate” itself to business. Ten points if you know who the voiceover talent is.

Smash it up: Punk rock Swedish style

The [International] Noise Conspiracy: Survival Sickness

For most people, when you say Swedish rock band, they say The Hives—unless, of course, they say, “Hunh?” Even Newsweek, who proclaimed them the the biggest rock band out of Sweden likened that to being the strongest person in your house. And while their punkish, garage-rock sound is a lot of fun, it turns out it’s also pre-packaged. The band claims that their songs are written by an honorary “sixth Hive”, Randy Fitzsimmons. Another version I’ve heard is that songwriter Fitzsimmons put together a band to perform his music.

For the real, radical deal, the band you need is The [International] Noise Conspiracy. Amazon named Survival Sickness one of the Best of 2000. Here’s what their reviewer S. Duda so eloquently said about the band: “The trailblazing American feminist Emma Goldman loved to say, ‘If I can’t dance, I want no part in your revolution.’ Emma Goldman would love the [International] Noise Conspiracy. Combining radical anarchist politics and punk-mod-soul sounds, the [International] Noise Conspiracy’s debut, Survival Sickness, reads like a manifesto but moves like a triple-bill featuring the Small Faces, Booker T and the MGs, and Fugazi.”

I’ve seen the band a couple of times, most notably at the legendarily cramped Fireside Bowl [which I used to call the scummiest place I ever paid money to get into and now miss terribly since it no longer has rock shows on a regular basis]. In that tiny, shabby space, it was pretty much impossible to be more than 50 feet from the stage as the band ripped through its set, charging around the postage stamp stage and sweating through their white shirts and suit coats [what is it with Swedish rock bands and dressing for success?]. The music and energy were transcendent.

And much of it was radically political. Between songs on that night in 2000, the lead singer began talking about politics. When the audience grew restless and obviously disinterested, he warned that Bush was going to be our next president. Those of us paying attention scoffed at the notion that the American public would be so stupid as to let that happen. And here we are, eight years later, with the revolutionary anger of songs like Smash It Up in the excellent music video below sounding more relevant, more necessary than ever.

I’m happy to say this all translates perfectly to this CD. There’s no escaping the radical messages, but they’re delivered in smart lyrics with a darkly energetic punk rock sound that is more a call to arms than a tedious, strident harangue. And unlike many punk bands, they exhibit plenty of musicianship and variety to keep the music interesting from beginning to end.

So if you like the Hives [and even if you've never heard of them], give this Swedish garage-rock/punk band a listen. This is the real thing.

Monk and Coltrane, lost and found

This week I’m revisiting another album that fell into a technological black hole when I revamped my kitchen boombox sidebar blog sometime back. Restoring something that was lost is especially appropriate for this album.

Thelonious Monk Quartet with John Coltrane at Carnegie Hall

Have you ever misplaced something for so long that when it finally turns up, you’d forgotten you ever had it in the first place? The Library of Congress had a doozy of a moment like this in 2005. One of their engineers unearthed an unmarked box with tapes of this historic concert in it, tapes no one even knew to look for. And so this November 29, 1957, performance became one of the hottest new jazz releases in 2005. Not a re-release—a new release.

To call the discovery of the forgotten Thelonious Monk Quartet with John Coltrane at Carnegie Hall tapes an important find doesn’t begin to do it justice. More than an amazing historical document of the far too brief collaboration of these two giants, it’s just plain great jazz. The eccentric Thelonious Monk has been both lauded and slammed for his iconoclastic piano playing—a spare, muscular and decidedly unrefined sound that is instantly recognizable as no one but Monk. If you like that style—and I do—this pairing with Coltrane’s brilliant solos is sublime. Bassist Ahmed Abdul-Malik and drummer Shadow Wilson round out the group. Monk is considered one of the founders of bebop, and this disk puts you squarely in the exploding 50s New York jazz scene, while still sounding fresh and relevant.

Perhaps almost as remarkable as the find of this lost treasure is the fact that Monk and Coltrane were only the second act of a five-act show that included Chet Baker, Ray Charles and headliner Billie Holiday. Alas, their performances aren’t part of this CD, but the poster for the event is included with the liner notes. It tells us that tickets for this fundraiser for Harlem’s now defunct Morningside Community Center ranged from $2 to a whopping $3.95—tax deductible, of course.

Miles Davis—in a silent, electrified way

Miles Davis: In A Silent Way

This album has languished in our collection for some time. It was bought with the best of intentions, to explore Miles’ own explorations of electric music, particularly keyboards. As jazz critic Andrew Bartlett put it, “Legendary as a kind of line in the sand challenging jazz fans during the ascendance of electric, psychedelic rock, In A Silent Way hinted at the repetitive polyrhythms Davis would employ throughout the early 1970s.”

Unfortunately for me, it just didn’t catch my ear when I first heard it. Always a fan of Miles’ earlier work, I would occasionally haul it out to try again, only to put it away after a cursory listen.

Recently, though, I pulled it out again and popped it in the kitchen boombox. And this time, it took. Probably as much as anything because I’d been exposed to a similar sounding Miles tune, Spanish Key, used in the soundtrack of the movie Collateral [an excellent film, by the way, whatever you think of the increasingly weird Mr. Cruise].

I listened to the two-track, 1969 release In A Silent Way over and over, each time anticipating the arrival Miles’ long, clear trumpet solos over the layered textures of multiple electric keyboards and dreamlike electric guitar, bass and drums. At that moment, the music would come alive, yet another birth of the cool for Mr. Davis.

But ultimately and interestingly, the album worked best when I had it on in the background and was listening passively. Usually, it’s while actively listening to an album that I find the music most interesting. When I listened actively to this album, though, I quickly became frustrated. Especially when I looked at the liner notes and reminded myself of the personnel. Besides Miles, there are seven other musicians on this disk, including jazz giants Herbie Hancock and Chick Corea on keyboards, Wayne Shorter on tenor sax and Dave Holland on bass. But when Miles isn’t soloing, no one else emerges to pick up the conversation. They all just swirl around each other in this hypnotic mishmash of sound, what Bartlett describes as “part ambient color exploration, part rock-inflected energy and vibe.”

And even Miles’ solos, as lovely as they are, err on the side of repetitive and somewhat expected. By way of comparison, I listened to one of my favorite Miles Davis tracks this evening, his 1964 recording of the standard My Funny Valentine. In it, he plays exactly 12 notes of the original melody faithfully before taking off in all kinds of amazing improvisational directions. Throughout the 15-minute track, everyone is improvising non-stop, having a true jazz conversation. And only occasionally will someone play maybe a bar or two of the original melody, as if to say, “This is what we’re playing, remember? Now try and keep up.”

All that said, In A Silent Way will stay in my current jazz rotation a while longer—and return more often. But I think it will be when I want a cool groove in the background. And that’s not a bad way to enjoy it, I think.

Wire: Brit punk, fast, smart and loud

This week, I dip into the lost Boombox archives again, to revisit an exciting punk disk that invites you to play it loud.

Wire: Pink Flag

One big music regret I have is that I didn’t get into punk music when it was first happening in the late 70s/early 80s. Mainstream rock was pretty uniformly bland and awful then, so I mostly retreated into blues, jazz and classical.

I finally found punk largely thanks to my daughters, taking them to all ages rock shows at places like Metro and the greatly missed Fireside Bowl—and once even on a road trip to St. Louis to be among the maybe 30 or so people who turned out to see the Chainsaw Kittens—for the record, NOT a punk band—on a frigid winter night in an unheated storefront venue. The girls eventually mostly moved on to other music, including what I like to think of as whiney singer/songwriters—Rufus Wainwright, Conor Oberst and the like.

I, however, remained faithful to bands who know three power chords and the F word and whose songs all come in at two or three minutes or less. Local college station WNUR has a show from midnight to 2am Sundays that pretty much sums up what I’m looking for these days when I’m listening to rock music: Fast ‘n’ Loud.

Wire delivers just that, with Pink Flag. The album, originally released in 1977, has 22 songs on it and clocks in at a hair under 38 minutes. The shortest song is a 28-second gem called Field Day for the Sundays. Remarkably, the band had only played 15 gigs when they went into the studio to produce this seminal album.

Wire is an old school punk band and, even better, as far as I’m concerned, a Brit punk band. Plenty of speed and low-fi distortion, but also more musicianship and variety than some punk bands can muster. A great, high-energy listen, even if you think you don’t like punk. And as one reviewer put it so well, “Short, odd, angular, sarcastic songs… remind the listener that punk rock can be simultaneously smart, detached, and visceral.”

Groove globally, listen locally

Soulio

There has perhaps never been a better time for listening to music. There is so much variety out there. Good, cheap technology is making it possible for more and more people to make and share music. And everyone from Amazon to iTunes to MySpace is making it easy to get our hands—and ears—on a dazzling array of music from every little corner of the world.

In some ways, this bounty mimics what’s going on in the food world. Increasingly, formerly exotic ingredients are making their way to supermarkets and home kitchens. Seasonality be damned, if you want asparagus in January, it’s being grown somewhere in the world and chances are, you can find it in the store. I can already hear the locavores groaning. What about carbon footprints? What about protecting local, small farms? What about embracing seasonality and absolute freshness? All valid points.

I’d like to suggest the same thing for music—kind of a locahear movement. You know, supporting local musicians by showing up for their gigs, paying cover charges or dropping something in the tip jar. And by buying their CDs.

I did that this past Friday night, catching a too rare performance by Chicago jazz combo Soulio at Nick’s, a friendly no-cover bar in Wicker Park. Soulio’s website describes their sound as “bluesy, groove-based jazz, hard bop, funk and soul-jazz.” Down Beat magazine’s Jeff McCord calls it “an amalgam of loping funk, Blue Note-like hard bop and a blues-driven vibe reminiscent of the Jazz Crusaders.” And Brad Walseth of Jazzchicago.net labels it “good time straight ahead soul-jazz that is meant to be enjoyed by listeners or dancers alike.” Having heard Soulio live a few times now, I would say their sound is D.) All of the above.

I picked up their self-titled CD too that night, for a mere $12.99. Soulio is 11 tracks, about an hour of loose-hipped but tightly played jazz, a mix of pieces by the greats—Dexter Gordon, Eddie Harris and Freddie Hubbard, for example—two originals by sax player Matt Shevitz and two ’60s tunes, Sunny and Grazing in the Grass. Proving once again that familiarity does indeed breed contempt, these two tracks are my least favorite on the disk. But if I force myself to tune out the “heard that a thousand times” factor, what they do with even these songs is quite nice.

The basic group is a quintet, led by trombonist John Janowiak and rounded out by a sax player, guitarist, bassist and drummer. Given the sometimes hardscrabble nature of local music, personnel sometimes changes. Various friends guest on some of the tracks on the CD—a trumpeter, a keyboard player and an additional drummer. When I saw them this past weekend, they had an excellent trumpeter sitting in with them.

Which brings me back to my ad hoc locahear movement. Making music is a hard way to make a living, especially at the local level. A bass player friend of ours in St. Louis says that you get paid for hauling equipment and you play for free. When I talked to Soulio’s trombonist during a break Friday night, he said they all play in a number of groups, including a corporate/wedding band. He didn’t say so, but I’m sure most of them also have day jobs. For every White Stripes or Mariah Carey or Common who strikes it rich, there are countless hardworking, talented musicians who barely get by [often with the support of an understanding spouse gainfully employed at a place with benefits]. But they do it. They make music because they love it. And we’re all richer for it.

Support them. Get out there and hear some music. In a club, a bar, a coffeehouse… hell, even the lounge of the Holiday Inn out by the airport. At the very least, you’ll have a little fun. You might find something truly transcendent, like Soulio. And I guarantee, the musicians will be glad you came.

A gift for you, from Nine Inch Nails

Nine Inch Nails: The Slip

Before Dolly Parton ditched duet partner and old school country star Porter Wagoner for a successful solo career, she used to be a pitch woman for Duz detergent. At some point in the commercial, she would pull a towel out of the detergent box. It was a free premium that came with the detergent, and Dolly would announce, “You cain’t buy these towels in any store. But you can get them free in boxes of Duz!”

Well, you cain’t buy the new Nine Inch Nails album The Slip in any store either. But you can download it for free at the Nine Inch Nails website. Yeah, let other bands offer up a measly song or two—this is an entire album. Ten songs, nearly 45 minutes, absolutely free. What’s more, the slip is licensed under a creative commons attribution non-commercial share alike license. And the band encourages you to “remix it, share it with your friends, post it on your blog, play it on your podcast, give it to strangers, etc.”

So that’s what I’m doing here. Just click on the album cover art or title above and you’ll be taken to the Nine Inch Nails site where you can download it. For free. No tricks. As Trent Reznor, the band’s only permanent member says, “As a thank you to our fans for your continued support, we are giving away the new Nine Inch Nails album one hundred percent free, exclusively via nin.com.”

And what do you get for free? Despite the often true old adage you get what you pay for, this is one fine album. Reznor’s hugely influential industrial rock sound comes through loud and clear on this latest album. From the opening track, the music is dark and insistent. He builds textures and layers with guitars, percussion, electronica and, on one track, an old, out-of-tune piano. One reviewer refers to some of the music as “Eraserhead industrial noise.” I can see that, especially on some of the instrumental tracks or passages. And honestly, that’s some of the stuff that intrigues me most on this disk. That said, the straightahead rock numbers rock in a most satisfying way.

There’s a thematic consistency to this album that really works—it feels of a piece. But there’s also plenty of variety, especially impressive when you consider that Reznor writes, sings, plays and produces all of the music on it. [He hires a back-up band for his tours.] Equally impressive for me, the more I listen to it, the more it works. So do yourself a favor. Download The Slip. You can’t beat the price—or the music.