Archive for May, 2009
Today’s Desert Island Disc: David Sylvian & Robert Fripp, The First Day
Posted on | May 29, 2009 | 1 Comment

Incredibly, this CD is out of print, and even Amazon only seems to have sketchy availability through zShops. So I can’t even provide a “buy” link. David Sylvian is the former lead singer and songwriter of Japan. Robert Fripp is the mastermind behind King Crimson. Sylvian is known for his introspective, spiritual, seeking lyrics and self-effacing music-making. Fripp was exploring a more industrial style in the early/mid 1990s. Together, they made one of the most remarkable rock records I know.
Using elements of funk, industrial music, noise and combining Fripp’s angular guitars with a deep, rumbling, sharp, melodious Chapman Grand Stick played by Trey Gunn, this is both enlightened meditation and purely enjoyable music, like a jam band with a spiritual purpose. Sylvian, often seen primarily as a singer/songwriter, should not be under-estimated as a musician/composer, and much of what’s heard here is the interplay of a band. For me, it’s definitely guitar-dominated, but Gunn’s Stick is also instrumental in defining the sound here; this record is a precursor to the subsequent next incarnation of King Crimson, also featuring Gunn from about 1994 onwards.
Find the ladder | Climb the ladder | To God’s Monkey [...] Can’t breathe the air | It’s too thin | This far from heaven | This far from heaven
Sylvian writes introspective, mysterious, strange, often darkly funny lyrics. His voice, low like the best British male singers (think Bryan Ferry, Curt Smith of Tears for Fears or Mark Hollis of Talk Talk) is calm, clear, articulate, authoritative. This is a kind of post-rock: if you know Sylvian’s and Fripp’s histories, it’s clear that this record is post everything: neither rock nor ironic retro; rather, the culmination of a long journey through pop, rock, noise, song structure, vocals, instrumentals, improvisation – in short, a clearly articulated and conscious decision, “this is what we can offer you now.” It’s an authentic statement, uncompromising in many ways, not of its time, but also playful because of the songs, often great songs with smart lyrics and memorable melodies, and the impeccable musicianship. Nothing here is left to chance, not the writing, nor the arranging or playing.
Like Fripp’s work with Crimson and Sylvian’s solo work, there are several very long pieces here. ‘Firepower,’ ’20th Century Dreaming’ and ‘Darshan’ each run more than 10 minutes. Like an industrial jam band of sorts, they bring enlightenment through repetition, a very Eastern-religion concept. 5 minutes into Darshan’s 17 minutes, you realize it’s put you on another plane, that the music floats you like a good DJ mix, and while it’s primarily rhythm, there’s enough audio interest to keep you listening. Like other music meant to induce a trance (and I’m not using the word here to denote the dance genre but in a more basic, ritualistic sense), Darshan manages to make you feel like the warm envelope of a blanket is being pulled from you when it ends. And, somehow, you’re left out in the cold, robbed of Fripp’s intense soloing and Sylvian’s increasingly evolved, odd and challenging synth pad harmonies.
Fitting, then, that it should end with a slow, ambient number that’s all Sylvian’s keyboards. Orchestral, calm, pastoral, like early Aphex Twin or The KLF’s best work.
If you can’t find The First Day anywhere, Sylvian’s two-disc retrospective Everything And Nothing (also discontinued, but more readily available) has some of the songs and is, without question, worth getting:
Listening to: Ben Harper & Relentless7, White Lies for Dark Times
Posted on | May 18, 2009 | No Comments
A review of Ben Harper & Relentless7, White Lies for Dark Times (2009)
“Relentless7,” the name of Ben Harper’s new band, sounds like the title of a book by Enid Blyton or Carolyn Keene. And they are an adventure to listen to.
Haper had, to date, split his music evenly between a smart, funky, blues/r’n'b/reggae inflected rock sound, and an equally accomplished “Ben Harper” style balladry that always felt, perhaps, a little out of its time. If you could get over yourself enough to really listen, Harper delivered the goods, especially in his early blues oriented songs. Like Bob Marley, Ben Harper knew how to combine the political and the poetic, protest and politics. But it might also be fair to say that the trademark Harper sound had perhaps become a little predictable of late. Great but predictable.
This record changes all that. It’s quite possibly the record of his career. Relentless7 consists, contrary to their name, of three players from Austin, Texas. Guitarist Jason Mozersky is a long-term friend (the friendship originates when he drove a truck for a Texas promoter and played his then band’s demo to a captive Ben Harper). During the 2005 recording sessions for Harper’s Both Sides of the Gun, Mozersky introduced Harper to his friends, drummer Jordan Richardson and bassist Jesse Ingalls. The initial jam session obviously resulted in enough excitement that the concept for Relentless7 was born.
Together, Harper and the seven produce a very full, rich, fuzzy wall of rock ‘n’ roll – swampy, Southern, and full of excitement. Something about their energy reminds me of the North Mississippi All Stars or Jon Spencer Blues Explosion (they don’t actually sound like either of these bands, so don’t get your hopes up too much; this is still Ben Harper as we know him). There’s also a focus, a low-down precision groove that’s reminiscent of ZZ Top. I’m especially fond of Richardson’s drums – he spends a lot of time on the floor toms, producing a lower register rumble to match the growling guitars and thundering bass.
I like the songs, too. I know the reviewers typically mention that Harper’s lyrics aren’t as literate as they could be – some call them mangled couplets – but I think there are strong songs here that will easily be as memorable as those from his early albums Welcome to the Cruel World and Fight for your Mind. I’m rapidly growing fond of “Shimmer & Shine,” “Whyu Must You Always Dress in Black?” and “Keep It Together (So I Can Fall Apart).”
Highly recommended. While the Relentless7 may not replace the Innocent Criminals permanently as Ben Harper’s backing band, they create a powerful, room-filling rumble that provides a fuller, better-grounded foundation for his considerable song craft, voice and lead guitar.
Listening to: Bruce Cockburn, Slice O Life (Live Solo)
Posted on | May 11, 2009 | No Comments
A review of Bruce Cockburn’s Slice O Life (Live Solo) (2009)
A lovely and complex CD this, Bruce Cockburn‘s first live album of just him and his guitar. Recorded in 2008 at a variety of shows, this is a strong set of well-known tunes and less familiar gems, interspaced with background stories and live banter. Cockburn comes across as a good-natured entertainer, someone who has aged gracefully from being a political singer-songwriter into a musician first and foremost.
The record was produced by Colin Linden and has a clean, thoughtfully balanced sound, not too echo-y, not too dry, that gives a good impression of the rooms it was recorded in. It’s filled with classics that, I’m told, all Canadians know. Since I didn’t grow up here, some of these songs are new discoveries for me, and this is a great way of discovering them, stripped to their essence. Cockburn is a very gifted rythm guitarist, adept at fingerpicking driving music that could stand on its own (and it has, on 2005′s Speechless).
If, like me, you’re somewhat new-ish to Cockburn’s music, I’ll leave you with some favourite lines from ‘Lovers in a Dangerous Time’ and encourage you to hear ‘Slice O Life’ if you can. I’ll be seeking out more Bruce Cockburn.
These fragile bodies of touch and taste | This vibrant skin – this hair like lace | Spirits open to the thrust of grace | Never a breath you can afford to waste | When you’re lovers in a dangerous time.




