Tuesday, April 30, 2013

The InBetweens, Out on a Limb

The InBetweens – a trio of Mike Gamble on guitar and electronics, Noah Jarrett on bass and Conor Elmes on drums and percussion - celebrated their 10th anniversary in New York and as a working unit, having formed a bond at the New England Conservatory, last fall by recording their fourth studio album Out on a Limb.  As someone who’s followed them pretty much since day one, it’s their strongest artistic statement yet.  Out on a Limb picks up on the melodic and harmonic territory they started exploring on their last record, Quantum Cowboy, and runs with it, with even more concise, punchy, catchy songs. 

The InBetweens have always been masters at teasing out unexpected grooves and building to a crunching intensity.  This quality is still evident, the sometimes bludgeoning impact of the early years lathed and burnished to a shining mace.  This is particularly evident on the one/two punch of Noah Jarrett-written pieces midway through the record.  “Releasing Posture”, which starts with a riotous bass intro and shifts through a series of firework sculptures, tiny perfectly deployed explosions, bass tumbling into drums, shooting out lines of light from the guitar; the overarching form becoming apparent even as it’s plenty of fun getting lost between the fire and the smoke.  That song melts into “Brighter” which is a weighty, righteously grimy mid-tempo rocker that glows with an unlikely, magical symbiosis between players, everything in its right place with tempo shifts never feeling showy or forced, full of drama but never plastic.

Texture, always a consideration, is sharper here too.  “Holy Waters” and “Abeyance”, both written by Mike Gamble, have a moody sensuousness, never rushing.  Conor Elmes’ drumming, great throughout, particularly shines on the former, muffled kick and tom creating a rocky landscape punctuated by flashes of cymbal – the drums tell the entire story and the guitar and bass adds definition and specificity.  The latter is some of the most gorgeous guitar playing I’ve heard from Gamble, less stripped down than sharpened, bringing to bear the devotional music he plays with Brooklyn Qawwali Party and the Thompson and Jansch influences that have been creeping into his playing in the last few years and turning it into something new and fascinating.

This  record has been a constant companion the last few weeks since I received the promo and I see it soundtracking my summer and me coming back to it for years on end.  To another ten, twenty, thirty years.

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Vocabularies and Desire. Passing Strange, Short North Stage, 04/19/13

This was always, and remains
a foreign land.  And we are

undoubtedly, the slaves.

There is some music, that shd come on now.
With space for human drama, there shd be some memory
that leaves you smiling.  That is, night and the way/
Her lovely hand, extended.  The Star, the star, all night
We loved it
like ourselves.
-Amiri Baraka, “Stellar Nilotic (29)”

As a theater lover, almost nothing’s better than watching a new company blossom, to grow into its powers and do something nobody else in town is doing.  I had one of those epiphanous lightning bolts last night with Short North Stage.  I was always rooting for them, and their Cabaret I saw at the beginning of the season had a lot of promise but fell just that little bit short of delivering. 

I was always rooting for their take on Stew and Heidi Rodewald’s Passing Strange to be amazing and obviously any troupe in town with the balls to take it on gets my support and my ticket dollar.  But having seen not only the Spike Lee filmed Broadway version but also the transcendent Balliwick version in Chicago with JC Brooks and the Uptown Sound as narrator and band and a phenomenal cast including Stephen Perkins, Osiris Khepera, and a spell-binding LaNisa Frederick… this had big shoes to fill to even grapple with that memory.  And before I get into details, it does.  If it doesn’t better the other versions it stands in my memory as 100% worthy and everyone I know who loves theater should go see this now, now, now.

As the board member who introduced the show commented, Passing Strange is an interesting companion piece to the first show of the season, Cabaret.  Both are stories about a young American male artist trying to find their artistic voice in Berlin at a time when Berlin’s dirt poor, not incidentally a haven for artists and hangers-on, and about to crack wide open, whether it’s the end of the world or the light streaming through.  But while the protagonist in Cabaret gets mired in sex and shock and horror, we see a deeper reckoning in Youth from Passing Strange and it doesn’t leave any doubt the protagonist does make something, something better than the juvenilia we see him, often hilariously, try to get past.

This show requires major versatility from every actor, four of the six person (besides the Narrator) cast play at least three roles who reflect and refract the differing milieus and Youth’s progression to understanding.  Zoe Lathan and Rico Parker particularly stand out from one shift of setting to the next. Zoe Lathan’s Sherry and Desi in particular see something good in Youth before anyone else really does and her playing this realization and also the frustration that he’s not there yet and maybe he won’t ever be is heartbreaking.  Her featured turn on “Come Down Now” is a time-stopping performance, a highlight in a whole show of highlights.  Parker’s hilarious with impeccable comic timing but always shaded with enough pain that you feel like there’s a person there.  Even as his characters are the person getting left behind or the person getting displaced by Youth’s innate selfishness masked as ambition or vice versa, they leave an impression; there’s a person here.  Even if Youth doesn’t register the loss of Parker’s or Lathan’s characters, they’re given enough impact in the play and in the production that the audience sees the loss.  Mia Angelique Fowler is a vision and a ball of incandescent energy, her voice ringing clear and sharp on the Amsterdam numbers.

Michelle Golden has maybe a thankless job as the Mother, appearing at the beginning to represent what the Youth needs to escape from and appearing in phone calls at the end when his stubbornness won’t let him come home and she won’t say why it’s so important.  But it’s the most heart-wrenching part in the play and Golden plays it so beautifully it’s hard to imagine her being bettered.  Everything not said shows up on her face, in the shrug of her shoulders. 

Taylor Moss as Youth, the only character on stage at all times, gives a ferociously physical performance that I initially thought was a little too cartoony but won me over midway through the first act. It rang true to my experience of being that age, wearing every lust, idea, enthusiasm on your face and wondering why you have no mystery at all but trying to invent a mask, a back story, an identity.  Anything the show needs at any moment, he’s up for the task and if he plays to the back row a little bit, well, I was in the back row.  For a central character who’s being acted upon as much as he acts, Moss gives an indelible performance in outstanding voice and along with Fowler is the best dancer in the show.

This show doesn’t work if the Narrator’s bullshitting.  A good friend of mine who’s done a lot of work with theaters in town said, “We’ve talked about doing it but we can’t picture a local Stew…” Well, Short North Stage found the perfect man for the job because Ron Jenkins is a damn star.  I’d seen his vocal quartet, Vocal Impact, and I knew the name from his time with Chapmyn Spoken Word and Flow Theater, but I’d never seen any of his theatrical work and I was blown away.  His voice is warm and supple and his take is interestingly balanced.  It’s not the surging rage and physicality of JC Brooks but his knives are sharpened to a slightly finer point than Stew’s origination of the part.  He feels so connected with the audience that the moments of breaking the fourth wall are surprising and fresh even if you see them coming. 

Even more than any of the actors, the superstar here is the director, Mark Clayton Southers.   An implant from Pittsburgh’s August Wilson Center, he imbues the show with the kind of joyous seriousness of the best of Wilson’s plays.  Such a steady hand is evidenced through the entire production, at every moment every actor feels exactly where they should be even if it’s not where the audience was expecting – suddenly emerging stage right or arguing with the band in the pit or on the second level of  Robert Kuhn’s astonishing set (his lighting’s also a wonder).  The nuance, especially evident in the very subtle choreographic echoes where Youth and the Narrator’s movements are just similar enough to drive the point home, is a wonder.

Of course there’s a caveat – the sound problems I noticed in Cabaret are better but still not all the way fixed.  Vocals get muddy and drowned out at times – more of a problem in this show because often the harmonies comment on the lead lines and vice versa.  The amazing band music director P. Tim Valentine put together feels strangely quiet and subdued, the rock and roll surges so key to the show don’t have the same punch they should.  Often the guitar work is completely drowned out unless it’s a specific tag where the keys drop out at the time (like the surf riff on “We Just Had Sex”).  And with legendary Columbus noise/jazz man Larry Marotta on lead, I promise the guitars aren’t too quiet because of the musicians.  The PA problems weren’t enough to ruin the show and they aren’t bad enough to stop me from recommending it but they’re annoying because everything thing else is so good.

Well done, Short North Stage.  I can’t wait to see what’s next.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

John Cage 101, Available Light

Anyone who’s read this blog even glancingly over the years can probably tell Available Light’s John Cage 101 had a particularly hard row to hoe for me because I’m such a fan of Cage and that whole ‘40s and ‘50s New York milleu.  While the new show – written by the company and directed by Matt Slaybaugh – isn’t entirely successful it reaches in a way you’re lucky to see a theatre company even attempt once in its day.  In a season – except for Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson – that has so far felt a little more like regrouping and circling the wagon, this grappling with a past that so infuses modern culture it’s like oxygen but is still rarely acknowledged and often scorned firmly replants their flag in front of the other theater in town and replants it in my head.

The four actors ingeniously billed in the program with the musical instruments they play instead of characters alternate as Cage (through a dark blazer passed among them) and everyone else who appears.  This is mostly successful and particularly good is that it doesn’t feel like each actor is meant to be a particular static aspect of Cage’s art or life – while I’d most enjoy watching Ian Short (who is phenomenal, getting the warmth that always comes through in interviews or footage of Cage and beautifully under-playing the humor so it never feels like a joke) for a whole play in the role, within a couple of scenes I felt like it moved beyond being a gimmick and just accepted it.  Of course, in a show about a composer and with a lot of motion and sound, the sound design’s important and Dave Wallingford outdid himself here.

Also good is the use of an overhead projector to show characters that appear for greater or lesser periods of time, it gives the supertitles a physical connection to the action, characters ripping transparencies off and replacing them.  In general, the physicality of the show is a strength, especially Meghan Durham-Wall’s dancing, she plays dancer/choreographer Merce Cunningham (marked by a pale jacket in contrast to the dark jacket that shows Cage) and Marcel Duchamp marked with a bubble pipe (I assume a riff on the pipe he carved for Donati).  For her first acting appearance, she’s striking – I might have wanted an interpretation of Duchamp that was less kitten-ish and less equally in awe, but her Cunningham is a marvel - and having someone who clearly, really knows dance and has lived with those techniques immeasurably adds to the verisimilitude, when she dances under Carrie Cox’s pitch-perfect lighting (going from sharp to soft exactly when it needs to but never drawing attention to itself) everything on stage reads truer.

One of the strongest elements of the play is the heavy emphasis on the first Cunningham group (with Cage acting as their road manager) West Coast tour, apparently adapted from Carolyn Brown’s terrific memoir Chance and Circumstance.  These four dancers are the perfect humanizing point of view, true believers who were rooting for these new concepts at the start of a new age of music and dance but still coming across as people.  These tiny sketches are also the best showcase for Acacia Duncan, better than fine as Cage but really shining in putting across the glee of being in something new.  And the era – the very early ‘60s – coincides with enough early mainstream recognition for Cage and Cunningham to be able to book a solid month of performances and lectures.

What doesn’t work as well is the occasional bursts of the ensemble being a large group of people.  The other artists from his scene get the biggest shaft – there’s a dinner room conversation that’s frankly the only moment in the play where I cringed, with Rothko’s cartoonish coke bottle glasses and Franz Kline’s obviously fake mustache and Pollock showing up drunk, but Robert Rauschenberg came off even worse.  He’s used for one sight gag set up through a variant of scenes and has one scene on stage and is barely addressed – especially for someone who stage managed the Cunningham dance company and can be argued helped them found the company.  There’s a really lovely scene where Cage acknowledges 4’33” was inspired by Rauschenberg’s white paintings and I understand being loathe to reduce his contribution to just that but also not wanting to tack 45 minutes onto the play, but it’s the biggest thing that’s bugged me in the most-of-a-week since I saw it. Last significant complaint:  having modern fans/commentators/college students/whatever worked beautifully in AVL perennial Pride and Prejudice but here it’s distracting and feels a little desperate, saying “See?  No, he is important.”  The play hedges its bets in those scenes and it does more to throw cold water on the audience than the “improvisations” with various instruments.  The music doesn’t have that intricate beauty of the Cage compositions I know, he didn’t seem like he was prizing amateurism with indeterminacy much less equating the two.

All of that said, I’m glad I saw this and anyone I know with an interest in new music, modern dance, or theater I highly encourage to see this show and support the only company in town right now who cares enough about the art to make this from scratch and hit as hard as they do.

John Cage 101 runs through April 6.  Tickets available at http://avltheatre.com/1011/blog/category/shows/jc101/

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Flying Away; Todd May, Rickenbacker Girls

...They'll


never fence the silver range.


Stars are out and there is sea


enough beneath the glistening earth


to bear me toward the future


which is not so dark. I see.


-
Frank O'Hara, "Digression on Number 1, 1948"


A. said once (after Steve Earle, in case anyone who googles it jumps my shit), "Todd May is the best songwriter in Columbus and I'd stand on Ron House's coffee table in my cowboy boots and say it." And, you know, while the soil here is rich with candidates - House and Jerry Decicca, Marcy Mays and Sue Harshe, Andy Robertson and Lara Yazvac, all five members of Moviola - I'm not sure I could name three songwriters who move me as consistently as May.


Morton Feldman once said of the poet Frank O'Hara that "Secreted in Frank O'Hara's thought is the possibility that we create only as dead men... Death seems the only metaphor distant enough to truly measure our existence... Only the artist who is close to his own life gives us an art that is like death." (found on www.cnvill.net/mfmorgan.htm because I couldn't find my copy of Give My Regards to Eighth St) Frank O'Hara often makes me think of Todd May, or maybe that's the other way around. I've been knocked out by May's songs since I first heard them at 18 - and been knocked out every time, through The Lilybandits and The Plaster Saits and Mooncussers and Fort Shame and a handful of bands he didn't front but were graced with the honor of his guitar playing like Erika Carey and Lydia Loveless - and I've had the honor of calling him a friend for over a decade. But he's hit a new plateau with Rickenbacker Girls, the first record he's put out under his own name.


The title refers to an air base tucked into the south end of Columbus - more of a shell these days, transferred from Strategic Air Command to the National Guard in 1980, but once teeming with thousands of employees and their families - and this title, in conjunction with the airplane over the dark red image of Ohio on the cover speak to a gateway out and the longing of things missed. The songs bear this out - there's a duende soaking through everything here and there's an immense joy in living that doesn't happen without the other.


On "Why Don't You Come Around Lately", buoyed by some of the most subtle rhythm section swing from Steve and Pat McGann and the organ work of Greg Thurman, May addresses the what-ever-happened void in the pit of your stomach when people inevitably peel off from your field of vision, from your childhood, from your college town, singing "Saying that you died / Some Vegas suicide / Don't believe it's true / Nothing I expect from you" and going through "Miss a million, my dearest friend / I really want to see you again / Search the world from end to end" all tied together by the titular line as a hook, repeated and stuttered, lines drop off and the vocal swings back and forth from a croon to a snarl. That highlight's immediately followed by the parking lot dance of "Better Way to Build a Rocket" where the delivery is the kind of seduction that only comes out of truth and humility, a paean to growing up not knowing what the boundaries are wrapped around the image of building a model rocket and wondering what might happen if you never stopped - "Undertake / A glimmer in the radiation / Till the boosters go / Now I'm floating over / The old neighborhood" soars aloft on some of the best, purest guitar work on the record (I'm inclined to say Todd himself with Jamey Ball and Mark Spurgeon playhing those grimy soul chops underneath the solo).


These songs paint the picture of a hard-fought comfort, a joy in settling where you are but not ignoring the pleasure of the rest of the world. This comes clear with "Alphabet City" which rocks like early Steve Earle and the Dukes or the V-Roys or any classic of May's older band The Lilybands - "You're the kind of girl who rides on the hood / Of your cousin's black Camaro in the harvest parade / You're the queen of some vegetable / Bestowed / With a tiara and dress your Mama made" and winking "Nobody's gonna mistake you for Nico / Hell, no one is gonna mistake / Me for John Cale / You and I ain't built for that speed / Or that level of temptation / And that's just as well". And directly following "Alphabet City" is "Better Than You Ever Thought It'd Be" a whip-crack shuffle, sung with a deceptive ease, "Riding out by the station / Make a birthday with my friend / It's a long distance dedication / You're halfway through the end / You're getting old / You're getting old, my friend / Nothing up to now has ever turned out right / Still better than you ever thought it'd be", the specifics of the lyrics are as important but they're reinforced and undercut sometimes simultaneously, by repetition and stopping short, the song sounds like he's smiling all the way through it but with that look in his eyes that what he's saying is important whether you notice or not.


The title track of the record sums up the themes and is the best see-you-around song to come out of Columbus since Tim Easton's "All the Pretty Girls Leave Town" and Watershed's "Anniversary", with a catalogue of fading photographs held up to the older, shabby buildings of the air base - "She flew off to Califonia / Daddy was stationed at the AFB / Transfered out to some Spaniard's beach" or "Took the train out east to live with her Mom / And that sweet one / Was the same rule of thumb" all alternating with the chorus: "That night I did not go home / I drove down to the lock's / The tower splayed the light / Over an MP's watch / So clear, as the sea / Twilight shadow's mocking me".


I think I've given the impression that this is a lyrically focused record and while the lyrics are some of the best he's ever written, the production his voice, handled by Joe Viers who recorded the acclaimed Lydia Loveless record on Bloodshot, gets textures out of his voice that I heard in a million tiny bars here in Columbus but I'd never quite heard on a record before. And everything else, every instrumental voice and color, springs to three dimensional life and plays exactly the part it needs to. Not just the best singer-songwriter record I've heard all year, it's in the running for the soul record to beat. This is the kind of record that makes me pissed off I don't write more and makes me want to call a friend I hadn't seen in a while and say let's get some coffee, that makes me want to be more present in my life and reminds me to love the world more.

Monday, February 25, 2013

A Story About The Red and The Black, But Not that One; Red, CATCO


At the end of the road there ain’t nothing but fear
Just a big old room with a big old mirror
And the man in the mirror, his hair’s turning grey
And his hands begin to shake in a funny kind of way
He knows everything you bring forth will save your soul
Everything denied will condemn you to the hole
With his hand on his heart, he picks up his pen
And goes searching for the place where the dream begins
-Tom Russell, “Where the Dream Begins”

I not only saw Red on Broadway, it made my top 10 theater productions list that year.  It overcame some surface problems to end up squarely hitting as one of the most invigorating, moving productions I saw in 2010 – an amazing year that also included the first plays I saw by Annie Baker and Tarrell Alvin McCraney, and revivals of Ishmael Houston-Jones’ Them and August Wilson’s Fences.  So there was a little trepidation at seeing CATCO’s performance of it; would I already be irrevocably tainted by the earlier exposure?   Ultimately, I thought to not see this in my home town, both to whet my appetite for the Decisive Decade Rothko retrospective at CMA (an institution which has done more for rekindling my interest in the last three years than the previous 15) and to get a charge and see if the text still holds, would be kind of insulting to me and to a company bringing in something I praised to the skies.

Beyond that, this play is very much in CATCO’s wheelhouse – a two-hander with one set, very naturalistic, very literal.  And in a lot of ways, they rise to the expectations.  The set design by Michael Brewer’s marvelous, Jarod Wilson’s lighting and Ruth Boyd’s costumes are perfect but not distracting, you never feel like the late ‘50s is underlined but it still grounds you in the time.  

Jimmy Bohr’s very kinetic direction seems to take its guidance from the lines in the script about colors pulsing and being held in check.  I feel like part of the reason the lines about the forms in the paintings “pulsing” seems highlighted here is because nothing ever seems static in the production.  More often than not, this works.  Sometimes, it works magnificently – as in the moment where the two characters team up to prime a canvas; the scene where Rothko returns from seeing a pop art presentation and he’s vibrating with rage, circling for a fight; the finale which moves as fast as life, the life-changing sentence getting delivered as though from a moving train.  Sometimes it works less well, there are beats that might hit harder if the audience had a few more seconds to meditate on them.

But this kind of play – a little overwritten, a touch obvious, but with a love for its source material and a connection to its emotional heart that overcomes the flaws – lives and dies with its two actors.  Tim Simeone, as the fictional assistant, found his rhythm and soared.  His character had this wide-eyed sense of wonder, in awe of the boss while trying not to see him as a surrogate father or a teacher.  Everything about him is on the surface, an exposed wound playing at being a cynic, and it’s marvelous to watch.  Kevin McClatchy was more of a mixed bag.  He obviously brought a lot of thought and intensity to the role but ultimately it felt like he was rushing through the lines, he was hammering home the punch lines until it felt flattened.  It kind of worked for 1959 – it’s a performance very much in the style of Sid Caesar or Carl Reiner – but that approach frequently became static and left the darker moments, “When I kill myself…” flatter than I felt they needed to be.

So it’s a solid performance well produced by CATCO, but it stays on base; never quite the home run you know is inside of it.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Favorite Live Music 2012

This tells a much different story from the records I've been listening to this year. It's much more heavy on rock and it tells the story of Ace of Cups (opened very late summer last year) really coming into its own with Jeff Kleinman's booking. 6 1/2 out of 20 shows that spoke to me enough to list here happened there. Looking at the track I kept, 35 shows out of the 115 I saw this year were there. A lot of money and a lot of nights almost all well-spent, all at least worth taking the chance on.


Obviously this is cyclical and a vacuum never lasts for long, but this year I really felt like a couple of venues took up Little Brother's mantle so I no longer missed much of anything and there were significantly more nights where I was torn between what I should do. Ace of Cups got rock in all its permutations, Woodlands covered the jazz and jam bands that almost no one had booked in Little Brother's absence and booked some of the larger Americana acts that Rumba Cafe had been holding down , and watch for Natalie's Coal-Fired Pizza on the come up. Next year I can almost guarantee that latter will be on here, an initimate listening room that I think will be perfect for some things they've got booked (Carrie Rodriguez, Fred Eaglesmith, Eilen Jewell) in the coming months because the sound and sightlines are terrific and they're going for a more mature vibe.


Let's also take a minute and thank the independent promoters not working with just one venue - Alec Wightman's Zeppelin Productions whose stuff I mostly missed this year because of travel and conflicts but not for lack of quality, and he's upping the ante again with a return visit from Bruce Robison and Kelly Willis and Jesse Winchester, both of whom I'd be surprised if they didn't turn out Show of the Year shows; Gerard Cox, whose free jazz shows have started up again and while I missed a couple is one of the series I'm most looking forward to in 2013; BenCo Presents who came out with some really strong, diverse offerings in 2012 and has an interesting slate lined up; and anyone else I'm forgetting.


Also, before the list, I should take a second to remember two of my favorite New York venues which closed this year. Lakeside Lounge, which was my and A's favorite bar in the city, and while I'd been there a couple of times before she and I were dating it wasn't anything like a regular stop for me until our first trip together. My favorite bartenders, some of my favorite shows. And Zebulon which never failed to show me something on a bill that took my breath away. Sunrise, sunset.


Last but not least, not only did I inadvertently not post this, somehow I didn't do my last save, so only half of these had commentary when I noticed it. Better I delete what was there, post it for memory, and move on to big 2013!


As with the other posts, everything is Columbus unless otherwise noted.




  1. Firewater, 10/06/12 (Grog Shop, Cleveland)




  2. Lee Ranaldo Band, 08/04/12 (LC Pavilion)




  3. OBN IIIs, No Bails, and Day Creeper; 05/27/12 (The Summit)




  4. Tune-yards, 06/11/12 (Wexner Center)




  5. Millenial Territory Orchestra with Henry Butler, 08/23/12 (Jazz Standard, Manhattan)




  6. Charles Bradley, 02/22/12 (Skully's)




  7. El Jesus De Magico, Guinea Worms, and Unholy 2; 01/27/12 (Ace of Cups)




  8. Mary Halvorson Quintet, 12/01/12 (Wexner Center)




  9. Joshua Redman Trio, 04/19/12 (Village Vanguard, Manhattan)




  10. Gentleman Jesse and Barreracudas; 05/17/12 (Ace of Cups)




  11. Dead Kenny G's, 05/29/12 (Woodlands)




  12. White Mystery, The Hexers, and Los Vigilantes; 04/11/12 (Ace of Cups)




  13. The Hexers, The Girls!, and Betty Machete and the Angry Cougars; 06/23/12 (N8 Glass Studio)




  14. Sun Araw, 04/20/12 (Le Poisson Rouge, Manhattan)




  15. Janka Nabay and the Bubu Gang and SMOD; 07/27/12 (Wexner Center)




  16. Kidd Jordan and DD Jackson with Brett Burleson, Roger Hines and Roger Myers (Dick's Den)/Necropolis (Ace of Cups), both 09/05/12




  17. Giuda, 09/05/12 (Ace of Cups)




  18. Sao Paulo Underground, 09/23/12 (Wexner Center)




  19. King Khan and BBQ, 12/04/12 (Ace of Cups)




  20. Scrawl and Cobra Verde; 10/27/12 (Ace of Cups)



Thursday, January 3, 2013

Favorite Records, 2012

This was an odd year for recorded music for me. It wasn't until I was looking over everything I listened to that I realized how many great records I heard this year. Very few of them fell under the rock rubric but this list could have been twice as long and I'd still be cursing leaving things off. It depresses me that this is overly white and overly male but that's not on anyone but me. I need to make sure my ears are open.






  1. Black Swans, Occasion for Song - Lots of records made me come up short this year, short on description of the depth of feeling and craft, records that made me treasure the world a little more, but none did it as immediately and as often as this Black Swans record. By now it's a cliché for me to call one of their records a masterpiece since I've been doing it since their first album, Who Will Walk in the Darkness With You, but it keeps being true. The best, warmest vocal from Jerry Decicca yet, the always-pristine arrangements have an even deeper level of telepathy, and melodies so ingratiating that the painful subject matter stands in even stronger relief, like the black in a Goya painting. Not one note, not one lyric is out of place here.




  2. Jessica Pavone, Hope Dawson is Missing - For the one and a half of you who pay attention (hi Mom), Pavone's a perennial player on this list. Since I first saw her duo with Mary Halvorson in one of the terrific shows Gerard Cox books in town, I've been a huge, drooling fan, and while I wouldn't want to judge, maybe the chamber music work she's doing with Tzadik is my favorite stuff of hers. This expands the string quartet from Songs of Synastry and Solitudewith Halvorson on guitar, Tomas Fujiwara on drums, and Emily Manzo on vocals. A gauzy rumination on what happened when personified hope is just goneone day and you don't know if you'll ever see it again but you keep looking because you don't have evidence of the contrary, that I couldn't stop listening to.




  3. Keith Rowe, September - One of the darkest, most beautiful things I heard all year. One 35-minute track recorded live on the anniversary of 9/11. I'm not sure I have words to describe this but from the minute I heard it it was beguiling to me, and it's still jaw-dropping and some of the best music for writing I've heard, ever.




  4. Tift Merritt, Traveling Alone -None of the conceptual trappings of the last few records but this is the first Tift Merritt record I've loved since her work with Two Dollar Pistols. Righteous band, led by the dueling lines of Eric Heywood on steel and Marc Ribot, continuing his ascent into a new clarity and sharpness, on electric guitar. And a set of songs that hit all of her modes and do them all justice, not feeling like playing dress-up: particularly the country soul duet with Andrew Bird, "Drifted Apart", my favorite single song all year, the blissfully sensual "Feeling of Beauty" and "Small Talk Relations", the shuddering "Still Not Home", and "Spring" which feels to me like an ars poeticafrom the opening/refrain, "Oh, it is a mystery like a lover's touch / Brings a blossom from a winter's bud" through her snarling "Wilt and will wither with all you've left / Beauty is defiance in the face of death".




  5. Kendrick Lamar, good kid, m.A.A.d. City -Sometimes it's nice to see the hype machine/popular consensus/whatever get it really right. This record so stunned me that I found myself, a few beers into the evening, talking to A. and comparing a song on it to an Elizabeth Bishop villanelle but you know, part of me (even as I understand the absurdity and pretension) wants to stand by that. It's a record of deep focus about mastering the art of losing and recombining the raw elements of your life and the pop culture swirling around you into something you can stand on, but still, always, being entertaining. The beats swing and creep and soar and crowd around you and Lamar's mastery of every great West Coast rap style after Egyptian Lover is so ingrained he can play with it. A masterful storyteller and brutal self-critic - "Sing About Me, I'm Dying of Thirst" is the best 7+ minute rap song since The Coup's "Me and Jesus the Pimp in a 79 Grenada Last Night"- but also unafraid to have lines about wishing "[his] dick get big as the Eiffel Tower / So [he] can fuck the world for 72 hours".




  6. Anais Mitchell, Young Man in America - Anais Mitchell reteamed with Todd Sickafoose who produced her fantastic concept album Hadestown for a collection of her best songs yet, no big name other vocalists, no gimmick stealing her shine. Her thin, reedy voice is deployed like a stiletto on a dark, cold night, and her simple, hypnotic guitar and band is perfectly taut behind her. She uses the conventions of the classic folk song, with lines like "Please the god of Abraham / Every day a dying day", and I say usesvery deliberately because she doesn't play withthem, though there's a real sense of playfulness on here, every detail, every chord change, every inflection is chosen and deployed for utmost heartbreak or charm or joy, not necessarily separated by song.




  7. Sinkane, Mars - A long contender for first among equals in the Columbus expat done good category, Sinkane hit a new plateau with his record Mars. The kind of future R&B I wish more people did with an immaculate sense of joy and fun, sleek but never slick and sexy but eluding cliché unless it knows the cliché well enough to subvert it while still using its innate juice (like the wah pedal on opening track "Runnin'" or the flute and bongos combo on "Makin' Time"), a record rich in detail but never bogged down by it.




  8. Antony and the Johnsons, Cut the World - No surprise this made it on my list. Antony is the one artist I can think of I wish would do moresinging with an orchestra and what this doesn't have from the live set I saw him do a few years ago it makes up for it by providing different, unexpected pleasures. The physical thump of added percussion on "Kiss My Name", the almost unbearable humming tension behind his voice on "Another World" and a version of "Cripple and the Starfish" that outdoes the studio cut in a way I didn't think was possible.




  9. Mary Halvorson Quintet, Bending the Bridges -Mary Halvorson's first quintet record blew me away, someone grappling with Horace Silver's language in a fully modern, engaged by other currents of music and art of the last 40 years, way. And this takes that and explodes it. The band feels lived-in, the songs old friends there to be challenged and interrogated because you know that will bring the best out of them. The front-line horn writing for Jonathan Finlayson and Jon Irbagon is thorny and sweet, John Hebert's bass full of melodic surprise and never-less-than rock solid rhythm, Ches Smith's drumming that starts in the pocket and finds other pockets inside of that pocket, and of course Halvorson's guitar playing, going from cubist flamenco through Derek Bailey and Sonny Sharrock and ending up purely her own.




  10. Gentleman Jesse, Leaving Atlanta -My favorite straightforward rock record of the year. I've liked the earlier Gentleman Jesse and His Men records but this was a revelation. Songs Nick Lowe or Graham Parker would've been proud to have written, as typical a rock trope as feeling hemmed in by your little town and hating yourself a little for how much you're annoyed by it and merging these angsty lyrics with a bouncing back beat and sharp guitar riffs and a yelp that begs you - or me, anyway - to sing along.




  11. Tim Berne, Snakeoil - Tim Berne doesn't make bad records but this feels like a class of its own. The writing's stripped down a little bit, the sound is that rich ECM production so you can hear every inch of every sound but it doesn't feel glossy or airless (like, I'm sorry to say, a few Evan Parker records on that label did). His writing's still redolent of him, the twists and knots, but there's a peaceto it. His alto and Oscar Noriega's clarinets playing perfectly shadow and light one another, Matt Mitchell's piano is the grout adding color and texture, and this is the best showcase for Ches Smith's drums I heard all year (including his fantastic playing on the Mary Halvorson record so you know that's saying something).




  12. Blueprint, Deleted Scenes - I'm a sucker for this kind of "process" record, where an artist makes clear the material was intended for something else and it's been repackaged. In every case you can feel the choice that led these songs to not make the cut for Adventures in Counter Culturebut these are better songs than most artists ever write and I was very glad to have the opportunity to hear them, a few of them are among my favorite 'print songs ever.




  13. Orrin Evans, Flip the Script -In a year with a very good Vijay Iyer record, a very good Bad Plus record, among others, this was the piano trio record that crushed me and kept me coming back again and again. I heard Orrin Evans in Bill McHenry's band and I'm a big fan of that Tarbaby record with Oliver Lake but I was unprepared for a record where he did this much heavy lifting that moved me so deeply. He and his rythym section, Donald Edwards on drums and Ben Wolfe on bass, go through the gauntlet of moods and even find a way to put a new spin on maybe that hoariest of standards "Someday My Prince Will Come".




  14. Traxman, Da Mind of a Traxman- I've talked the last couple years in this space about reinvigorating my love of going out and dancing but this is the year that overlapped with my rediscovery of great dance music, at least dance music as I understood it when I went to clubs a lotat 18 or 19. This is a constantly unfolding tapestry of sounds and moods that touches on every music I've ever loved and still comes out surprising and fresh and new and makes me want to move even when howI'm supposed to dance to it puzzles me.




  15. Missy Mazzoli, Song for the Uproar (The Lives and Deaths of Isabelle Eberhardt) -The cast recording of Mazzoli's first opera and I'll be honest, I'm still digesting it but there wasn't a moment's doubt for me that it belongs on this list or that it'll be giving me something to chew on for quite some time. Some songs are already etched into my grey matter like "This World Within Me is Too Small" or the looping, delirious vocals tumbling over each other on "100 Names For God".




  16. Liminanas, Crystal Anis -Another snarling, sexy platter from Liminanas, everything a finely tuned clockwork mechanism built out of smoke and good bourbon. This is the kind of record you want to put on at a party or put on alone when you get home from the party and just let it play through and you'll find different things in both circumstances but it's just as good for either.




  17. Bill McHenry, La Peur du Vide - I saw this band in a stint at the Vanguard last year and everything clicked for me in a way McHenry's work with Paul Motian didn't yet. At the time I thought a large part of it might have been the first time I saw Andrew Cyrille live with that drum sound that so enraptured me got stars in my eyes but hearing a recorded document from a later week they did reaffirmed everything that was great about that set. Orrin Evans on piano, Eric Revis on bass (whose damn fine 11:11 record from his Parallax project came within a hair's breadth of making this list), know exactly where to come in, where to open up and where to limn the sharp, intricate constructions in. I've talked about "sunrise music" before, something I find on occasion that feels like it makes the world make a little more sense when I'm on the bus into work watching the sun come up over the east side of town, and this was my favorite example of it I've found this year. Maybe that I've found since Tyondai Braxton's Central Market.




  18. Fort Shame, Double Wide - Fort Shame were one of my favorite Columbus bands the minute I heard them, and how could they not be, with Todd May from the Lilybandits/Fallow Valley Sinners/etc and Sue Harshe from Scrawl on dueling lead vocals and songwriting duties. Over the last few years they added George Hondroulis from much-missed band The Evil Queens on drums to Jamey Ball's melodic, swinging bass, to complete a rhythm section with as much power and depth as the songs and the two voices started to integrate more into a fusion of Kurt Weill and Whiskeytown that kicked my enthusiasm into high gear. This record is the flowering of all those elements coming together and catching fire. You can dance to it or you can lay on your living room floor, it's got pleasures for days.




  19. Bang on a Can, Big Beautiful Dark and Scary -My favorite straight classical record this year. Julia Wolfe's title track was a classical piece that had me ready to shadowbox with angels walking down the street, clusters of strings and a piano beaten like it stole something. The arrangements of Nancarrow's player piano pieces worked in a way that kind of thing almost never works for me. Michael Gordon's "For Madeline" is something I tried to write a poem even in the same stratospherea dozen times. I don't think I could point out a clunker track on the whole double album.




  20. Jacob Garchik, The Heavens - Like the Mazzoli, I got this late in the year but it grabbed me by the lapel and said "Change your plans." The subtitle of an atheist's gospel trombone record seemed a little too cute but I'd heard Garchik in a few contexts and his playing's always top notch (especially on the 40Twenty record that came very close to making this list this year) and I heard about ten seconds of that first track, "Creation's Creation" before I was hooked. The harmonies are like the way the light hits a crumbling street at the end of a beautifully exhausting day, the melodies are astonishing. A singular record from a voice I get the feeling is just starting to really come into his own.