CD Odyssey Disc 1035: Don Henley

I’m in the middle of a lovely long weekend, filled with social engagements with the people I love. Today began with a game of Ultimate and then brunch, but now I’m home and I’ve just awakened from a restorative afternoon nap. Things don’t get much better.

Disc 1035 is…Building the Perfect Beast

Artist: Don Henley

Year of Release: 1984

What’s up with the Cover? Mock him if you must, but chances are you had a similar haircut, and owned a similar blazer.

How I Came To Know It: I knew this music growing up but I never much liked any of the hits I heard on the radio and stayed well away. Sheila felt differently – this one is hers.

How It Stacks Up:  We have two Don Henley albums, this and “End of the Innocence” which I bought. Unsurprisingly, of the two I prefer “End of the Innocence.”

Ratings: 2 stars

“Building the Perfect Beast” is a bad combination of songs I don’t like that I’ve had to hear too many times. I try to be fair, but the combination inclines me toward hurtful words.

Mid-eighties pop means you’re going to get synthesizers, horn solos (usually saxophone) and insubstantial drums that sound like they’re being played inside a tin can. Asking mid-eighties pop to not be these things is unrealistic.

While these things aren’t my favourite sounds there are plenty of albums that did a better job of managing these maladies in 1984. Bruce Springsteen overcame it on “Born in the USA” and Prince released “Purple Rain” that year. Even albums well out of my wheelhouse like Howard Jones’ “Human’s Lib” managed to win me over.

Don Henley did not win me over. Mostly, he sounded like a schmaltzy old guy, trying to be soulful, and while he approaches his sound from a lot of different angles, few of them are good ones.

Having said all this, “Boys of Summer” finally appealed to me after many years. This song was horribly overplayed back in the eighties, and as a teenage metal head, I loathed it with a fathomless fury. With a bit of distance and perspective, I now see it is a pretty solid song, which captures the memory of a romantic summer fling (the best of flings) with sincerity and style. I don’t love it like a lot of people, but at least I can now admit it is a good song.

The rest of this album mostly annoyed me. The other hits range from the saccharine but inoffensive “Not Enough Love in the World” to “All She Wants to Do Is Dance” which remains to this day one of my most hated songs. From its drum-machine beats, to the synthesizer that sounds like someone forcing a fart, nothing about this song is pleasant. Every other line is “all she wants to do is dance” balanced against what I think is Henley’s attempt at political commentary. It is supposed to provide juxtaposition, but the only position it elicited from me was one where my hands were covering my ears.

Rounding out the singles we have “Down at the Sunset Grill,” a bloated six minute monster filled with random bells and a piano piece that sounded like it was being played by an angry drunk who’s commandeered the hotel lounge’s baby grand. There is also a never-ending solo of what I think is a trumpet. Turning to the liner notes, it turns out I was right to be confused, as it was played by something called a “synthesizer guitar (horn)”. It chills my blood that such a monstrosity ever existed.

As for the deep cuts, there isn’t much on offer here either. Henley loves to turn a phrase, but he tends to think they are cleverer than they actually are. “You Can’t Make Love” and “You’re Not Drinking Enough” are both songs filled with examples of these, where the lyrics feel stilted and the songs aren’t interesting enough to overcome it.

The one nice surprise was “A Month of Sundays,” which is a Springsteen-esque song about a man who worked building farm equipment, then became a farmer himself, only to find himself squeezed out by large corporations and tough economic times. The song is driven by a restrained piano piece (played ably by Heartbreaker Benmont Tench). While there is way too much atmospheric synth going on, Henley makes the most of it with heartfelt lyrics and an honest delivery.

Despite this late-album success, there wasn’t much else to recommend on “Building the Perfect Beast” and plenty of songs that downright annoyed me. I give this album two synthesizer farts, played on a ‘synthesizer guitar (horn)’.

Best tracks: The Boys of Summer, A Month of Sundays

CD Odyssey Disc 1034: The Wooden Sky

I’m having one of those weeks where I feel like I’ve got too much going on all at the same time. However, I’ve been stealing moments wherever I can to listen to music (I spent part of Sunday enjoying the Drive-By Truckers’ album “Dirty South”. Along the way, I was able to sneak in this next review as well.

Disc 1034 is…Swimming in Strange Waters

Artist: The Wooden Sky

Year of Release: 2017

What’s up with the Cover? A drawing by KathrynMacnaughton. I can’t say I like it too much – I guess I’m a bit more literal with my art. Maybe there’s just too much going on – kind of like this album.

How I Came To Know It: I am a fan, so this was just me buying the new Wooden Sky album when it came out and hoping for the best. I really need to stop doing this.

How It Stacks Up:  I have five Wooden Sky albums, which is all their full length studio efforts, as far as I know. Of those five, I must reluctantly put “Swimming in Strange Waters” in fifth (aka last).

Ratings: 2 stars

I really love the Wooden Sky, and since discovering them in 2012 every album I’ve drilled into their back catalogue and forward into their new releases with equal joy. When I saw them live in 2014 it was one of the best shows I've ever seen.

Because of those high expectations, “Swimming in Strange Waters” ended up being a disappointment. It isn’t terrible, but it is a slight departure for their sound, adopting a more sonic-wall rock sound building the stronger rock edge they developed on 2014’s “Let’s Be Ready” over their former balance between indie folk and rock. Like a long-time customer to a coffee shop that changes its beans, I found myself wishing they’d stuck with the old brew. Or when you go to buy the doughnut of the month, but they’ve switched from that awesome roasted pineapple and coconut one to some trendy salted caramel thing.

Indie music really lends itself to metaphors about hipster coffee shops. But I digress…

What I’m saying is this record has a lot going on musically. The melodies are awash in a host of pings, whines and various percussive experiments designed to give you layers to explore. The album’s title is the best metaphor here, where the sound feels immersive and diffuse and also a little bit weird. I usually love weird, but here it just felt like at the recording studio one person after another said “And then we could add this! And then this!” and no one said no.

The first two tracks left me pretty alienated, but when “You’re Not Alone” came on next it had a promising start that made me think things were going to turn around. Regrettably, rather than sticking to the rolling melody and Gavin Gardiner’s evocative rock/folk voice, the song is loaded with extra production. Strings are played and plucked and organ drones, all of it drowning a song that would have been better presented with less.

“Deadhorse Creek” starts with a fine cross between rockabilly and southern rock but descends midway through into a bit of clangor that indie music is all too willing to descend to (note to indie rockers: don’t beat the melody into submission, resolve it. The song recovers its narrative by the end, but by then I was grumpy with all the crashing.

It isn’t until the end of Side A that I was finally rewarded with the haunting beauty of “Born to Die.” I’m not sure what this song is about, but it is something terrible and cold and strangely compelling. Imagery of blood in the snow that makes you shiver, and the lights of justice flashing. “Born to Die” is Gardiner at his best as a songwriter, aided ably by a simple acoustic guitar that winds its way hesitantly through the song’s imagery like a partially frozen stream meandering across a field.

Although more on the rock side of their sound, “Black Gold” is also solid with a drum beat that feels a little military, and again that southern rock vibe that was a welcome surprise from a Toronto band.

Unfortunately, standouts like “Born to Die” and “Black Gold” felt too few and far between to redeem a record that has solid bones, but drowns at times in its own busyness.

I’m tempted to keep this one for a while because I’m a fan of the Wooden Sky (and I would go see them live again in a heartbeat) but space is of a premium, so unless it is saved by Sheila, it is getting passed on to a home that will love it more than I can.

Best tracks: Born to Die, Black Gold

CD Odyssey Disc 1033: Justin Townes Earle

This is the second review in a row of an album released in 2015 and the fourth of the last nine. I guess it was a good year for music. Or it could be…random.

Disc 1033 is…Absent Fathers

Artist: Justin Townes Earle

Year of Release: 2015

What’s up with the Cover? It’s the sequel to the cover for “Single Mothers” (reviewed back at Disc 893). That cover featured two little kids, standing in a park. This one features two adults striking the same pose, but standing in the dark. Maybe the two covers taken together are some kind of metaphor for how all that magic in the world of kids just fades to black as you grow up. Lighten up, JT; the world is a pretty magical place at any age.

How I Came To Know It: I read a review and listened to a few tracks, and it sounded pretty good, so I decided to give it a shot.

How It Stacks Up:  I thought I was going to like this album more than I did. I expected it to finish second, but it only managed to place fourth out of five albums. That means both “Midnight at the Movies” and “Nothing’s Gonna Change the Way You Feel About Me Now” both move up a spot.

Ratings: 3 stars

Sometimes the opening track of an album overshadows everything that follows. In the case of “Absent Fathers” this was true, and with a couple years of separation, I now realize that the opening track was so good it made me like the album more than it deserved.

Not that the rest of the album isn’t solid – it is – but there is just no matching that opening song, “Farther From Me.” It is a broadside against poor fathers everywhere, fuelled no doubt by JT’s own complicated relationship with his father, famed but troubled troubadour Steve Earle.

On 2009’s “Midnight at the Movies,” Earle had thrown a few backhands against dear old dad on “Mama’s Eyes”, but it is within the context of praising his mother’s kindness. Six years later, he gives dear old dad his full attention with sharp and hurt-filled lines including:

“Sometimes I wonder if you realize who you’re talking to
Ah but you won’t break my heart again, no
Broke it once, I was too young
And it didn’t mend”

“I’ve suffered for your foolish heart and your desperate needs
And now after all this time
You’re still slipping farther from me”

Those lines are stark, honest and more than a little cruel and Earle sings them with conviction that tells you it hurts him as much to say it as it would for a father to hear it.

“Farther From Me” is a tough act to follow, and Earle never again hits the same level on the record. That isn’t to say there aren’t other great moments though. “Why” follows it up with a lyrical lilt and its own share of hurt, and “Call Your Momma” shows Earle turning himself into the target, taking the part of a callous lover who knows he’s being cruel, but can’t help himself.

Musically, the album is heavily influenced by the Delta blues, with hints of country swing. Earle’s voice has the perfect warble for the style, and he knows how to slide in and out of the pocket. Sometimes his vocal is so focused on finding the right rhythm and emotional commitment that he sacrifices clear enunciation. This had me wanting him to pull just a little of that raw feeling back inside and the let the song unfold.

That said, the way Earle sings creates a broken rhythm that is a good match to the subject matter of these songs, which are heavily focused on heartache and relationships well past the point of recovery.

Even on “Day and Night” where Earle sings about a relationship that is still strong, and where his woman has his back through ‘day and night, change and uncertainty’ he still approaches it from a position of wretchedness:

“Once my back was strong

Now I’m on my knees

My pockets are filled

With broken, worthless things”

Makes me want to give him a hug, but I’d be afraid to break him.

A special shout out to Paul Niehaus on electric guitar and pedal steel, who grounds these songs in a place that is mournful, but still balanced against the total despair of Earle’s delivery. If anything, it helps save the record, because while Earle’s melancholy is real, the record suffers from a lack of lighter moments. At times, it wallows, and while we all need a good wallow I wish Earle had written a few more songs when he was having a good day.

While this isn’t my favourite Justin Townes Earle album, it is more a matter of personal style (the amateur producer in me wanted a bit more country side, and he preferred old blues and early rock and roll). The way he fearlessly climbs down into the depths of the human soul isn’t always pretty, but the bravery of it all is undeniable.

Best tracks: Farther From Me, Why, Call Ya Momma, Day and Night

CD Odyssey Disc 1032: The Mountain Goats

After a late night I did a rare thing and slept in. Part of me feels like I wasted the morning, but most of me just feels like I needed the rest.

Disc 1032 is…Beat the Champ

Artist: The Mountain Goats

Year of Release: 2015

What’s up with the Cover? Wrestling in all its ridiculous over-the-top cartoon glory!

How I Came To Know It: This album was #89 on a list pulled together by Paste Magazine of “Top 100 Indie folk albums of all time.” I went through that list pretty meticulously, and “Beat the Champ” was one of my favourites. It also introduced me to the Mountain Goats.

How It Stacks Up:  I ended up liking the Mountain Goats a whole lot. I now have six of their albums, with plans to buy at least two more. Of the six I already have, “Beat the Champ” comes in second or third, depending on how I’m feeling about “Tallahassee” at that moment.

Ratings: 4 stars

The Mountain Goats is pretty much John Darnielle, and John Darnielle is a mad, musical genius. “Beat the Champ” is him at his most mad and inspired both thematically and musically.

Like a lot of Darnielle records, “Beat the Champ” is a concept album, in this case built around professional wrestling. Darnielle returns to his boyhood, and the joy he would take going to see the local circuit wrestlers in California. On the surface it doesn’t seem to be a topic that would hold your attention. However, Darnielle is so good at intertwining the stories and imagery of wrestling into deeper explorations of his own psyche it works.

A lot of early Mountain Goats has sparse production, usually just a single organ or guitar, but on “Beat the Champ” Darnielle brings in horns, sounding flourishes to make the whole ridiculous pageant of wrestling come to life. It then contrasts all that excitement with quiet confessional songs that turn the same imagery inward where they become metaphors for our internal struggle between our public face, and our private doubts.

My favourite song is “Foreign Object” which is about exactly that; an illegal object that the wrestling villain (or ‘heel’) would use to even the odds against the hero. The triumphant horn section is juxtaposed against the villainy of the cheater.

While the wrestling is fake and staged, Darnielle’s investigation of their personalities, and their personal triumphs and difficulties, is genuine. “The Legend of Chavo Guerrero” tells the story of the hero, saving the day for the good wrestlers as he comes off the top rope, dispensing justice.

At the other end (of both his career and the album), “The Ballad of Bull Ramos” catches us up with a wrestler long after his career has ended, now just another truck driver. An old man, he is mostly forgotten but still has flashes of his former greatness, such as when his doctor recognizes him. It is a fleeting glory, but Darnielle does a good job of showing that it still matters. The song is a love letter to the joy these men once gave him, but at a deeper level it’s an examination on aging gracefully.

“Heel Turn 2” strips things down to an insistent guitar strum, filled with the anguish and frustration of a life unraveling. The plaintive chorus of “I don’t want to die in here” repeats over and over, as the singer desperately tries to hold onto the hero birthed inside of him years earlier while sitting ringside watching Chavo Guerrero. The song ends with a two minute piano instrumental that could have ended up self-indulgent, but instead is exactly what you need after all the pent up emotion that comes before it.

The album moves around musically, sometimes pulling from R&B, sometimes from folk music and on “Fire Editorial” even taking a trip into jazz. Even with all these styles, the album never feels cobbled together, but instead has a natural flow and solid pacing.

The wrestling themes fade and blur again and again into questions of identity, and what it means to be a good person. On “Unmasked!” Darnielle sings like he’s whispering you a secret:

“Crowd’s half gone, just a few hangers-on

Come to see me finally tear through the stitching at last

And you don’t care, you almost look relieve down there

Like your free, like you can breathe now

Like you’ve sawn off your cast

Just one more sleeper to see through”

“And by way of honoring

The things we once both held dear

I will reveal you.”

It isn’t just a song about a wrestler taking his mask off later that evening after the show. It is a song about how we all wear our masks, and take our turns trying to be the hero, while sometimes secretly feeling like the heel.

As a kid I watched wrestling, but long ago gave it up as contrived and silly. It had been so long I had totally forgotten how much joy I used to get out of all that silliness. “Beat the Champ” not only brought those old feelings back the surface, it made me see the wrestlers as people, and not just characters for my amusement. Then the album went deeper and took those lives as a foil for examining how we should live; coming off the top rope like Chavo Guerrero, and aging with grace and dignity like Bull Ramos.

Best tracks: The Legend of Chavo Guerrero, Foreign Object, Heel Turn 2, Unmasked!, The Ballad of Bull Ramos

CD Odyssey Disc 1031: Ice T

I’ve had a lot on the go tonight, but I’m determined to squeeze in a music review before I hit the hay.

Disc 1031 is…The Iceberg/Freedom of Speech…Just Watch What You Say

Artist: Ice-T

Year of Release: 1989

What’s up with the Cover? A gentleman has a rough day, on account of a variety of guns stuffed into various orifices. Clever viewers will deduce that said gentleman is a Los Angeles Raiders fan (the Raiders played in LA from 1982 to 1994). I don't like the Raiders either, but this seems to be an overreaction.

How I Came To Know It: I first heard this album while having dinner with my friend Chris and his first wife Jennifer. I believe we played it pre-dinner, before eating some sushi. So yeah, an odd pairing of food and music, but I was impressed with Ice-T and began seeking out his music. Sushi, not so much.

How It Stacks Up:  I have four Ice-T albums (his first four). I like all of them, but competition is tight. “The Iceberg/Freedom of Speech…” is a good album, but I like two other ones better. That puts it in at…third.

Ratings: 4 stars

In 1989 rap was still coming into its own, but Ice T was already a giant of the industry. With his raspy delivery and edgy narrative rhymes, he had a style that demands that you pay attention.

The Iceberg” covers a lot of ground, ranging from political and social commentary all the way to traditional “I rap the best” raps. There are even some sex songs that would make LL Cool J blush.

The album’s overarching theme revolves around the freedom of expression, and its cornerstone role in democratic society. Ice T approaches this both directly, through raps like the title track, and indirectly, by laying down rhymes that were deliberately antagonistic to the forces of censorship.

When Ice T raps about sex on songs like “The Iceberg” and “The Girl Tried to Kill Me”, he makes sure that sex is as dirty as possible. Dicks freeze off, whips are deployed and angry cuckolded husbands threaten violence.

When he about life on the streets, Ice T brings an element of violence that was relatively new to the style at the time. On “Peel Their Caps Back” rival gangs unleash violence on one another. When rapping about his skills on the microphone, his rhymes evoke the violent imagery of nine millimeter pistols and broken limbs. On “Lethal Weapon” he walks the line between the metaphorical violence and actual violence. Often you can’t tell which is which and I think that’s how he wants it.

The scratches and beats laid down on the record vary between furious and fast (“Hit the Deck”), rock-riff driven (“The Girl Tried to Kill Me”) and funk (“You Played Yourself”). Evil E is brilliant regardless of his source inspiration, and the DJing is as big part of the album’s aggressive energy as Ice T’s delivery.

“You Played Yourself” also demonstrates that while Ice T clearly enjoys the idea of offending the Tipper Gores of the world, he is there to do more than shock. This song is about making smart decisions, staying in school, and avoiding drugs. Best of all, Ice T knows his audience – he doesn’t preach about the dangers of drugs and violence, he ladles scorn on those who make bad choices, and demands they take ownership of them.

Ice T uses “This One’s For Me” to defend Public Enemy; picking one of rap’s most controversial acts at the time to underscore that freedom of speech is for everyone, or it isn’t for anyone. It is on topics like this that the record shines brightest.

Ice T is best when he is direct. “Freedom of Speech” (the song) is one of my favourite raps of all time for this reason. Profane and daring and a direct attack against organizations like the then-influential Parents Music Resource Centre (PMRC). Nowadays the efforts of Tipper Gore seem silly, but in 1989 attempts to censor music were very real.

“Freedom of Speech” is a clarion call for action. Is the song profane? Yes, deliberately so. It is designed to offend, because Ice T is reminding us that sometimes art has to offend to have an impact (like his message to youth on “You Played Yourself”; they offend with a point). But if that is still too subtle for your average censor, Ice T lays it all out for you later in the song:

“Freedom of speech, let 'em take it from me
Next they'll take it from you, then what you gonna do?
Let 'em censor books, let 'em censor art
PMRC, this is where the witch hunt starts”

The album ends with “My Word is Bond” a collection of rappers one upping each another with creative exaggerations and outright lies. It is all done tongue-in-cheek and in a way that makes it clear that despite all his strong opinions, Ice T can still make fun of himself.

This record isn’t perfect. Some of the rhymes lack imagination, and at 55 minutes it felt a little long, but its combination of dope beats and furious unapologetic raps make it an iconic album of its generation nonetheless.

Best tracks: Lethal Weapon, You Played Yourself, The Girl Tried to Kill Me, Hit the Deck, Freedom of Speech

CD Odyssey Disc 1030: Daniel Romano

This next album is the third out of the last eight that after reviewing I am letting go. I need to be more picky at the record store.

Disc 1030 is…Modern Pressure

Artist: Daniel Romano

Year of Release: 2017

What’s up with the Cover? The washed out Giant Head of Daniel Romano stars blankly into the distance as it overshadows a full-bodied Daniel Romano climbing an old stairwell. Much like the album itself, there’s too much going on for this picture to work.

How I Came To Know It: I had some good luck on Daniel Romano albums lately so when he released a new one earlier this year I took a chance on it.

How It Stacks Up:  I have five Daniel Romano albums, and must reluctantly put “Modern Pressure” in last place – or fifth, if you’re big on participation ribbons. I’m not.

Ratings: 2 stars

Daniel Romano is a gifted songwriter with a penchant for taking risks, and these qualities can make for some pretty cool music. Yet even the most creative artists can drown themselves in their own self-absorption. This is what happens on “Modern Pressure.”

Romano was already walking on the edge of danger coming into this record. His voice and delivery are heavily reminiscent of Bob Dylan, but while Romano flirts heavily with Dylan’s sixties sound, he usually puts together songs with his own creative twist, simultaneously playing the role of throwback and innovator. It can work, but it’s a dangerous game.

On “Modern Pressure” all the right elements are present, including Romano’s innate talent to write a catchy folk song with a Byrd-like rock twist, but he makes a host of poor decisions from there. It is the musical equivalent of taking the wrong exit off the highway and then trying to compensate by going down a dozen switch-back country roads, all the while refusing to admit you’re not even in the right town.

The title track is a good example. It is pretty enough but it felt like I was listening to someone imagining what “Dylan: the Basement Tapes II – The Undiscovered Basement Tapes” would sound like. It isn’t bad, but it isn’t anything special.

For all that, Romano is worse when he tries to make it interesting. I should have been nervous when on the opening track “Ugly Human Heart Pt. 1” (yes, there are two parts) Romano throws a discordant drum beat over top of what is otherwise a passable song. I’m not sure why he does it. Because the drum beat is like an ugly human heart? Get it? Get it? If that’s all it is, then yes I get it, but it doesn’t make it good.

When I reviewed his previous album “Mosey” back at Disc 953 I noted that while there is a lot of self-indulgence, there are enough high points to counter the missteps. On “Modern Pressure” the reverse is true. The dividing line is Romano’s insistence to take the best songs on the record and then wreck them for the sake of showing you that he can.

“The Pride of Queens” is a beautiful track. Half folk song and half alt-rock guitar anthem, this song has a beautiful build from sixties Dylan sound to a crunchy guitar that defies you to not play air guitar on the bus (sorry, fellow bus passengers). Then Romano inexplicably tags on a coda of thirty seconds of what-the hell at the end. This includes some weird thumping bass-line that sounds like it was produced on a lap-top Casio. It is not even the same song, appears for no apparent reason, and leaves a bitter taste in the mouth of what up to that point I had thoroughly enjoyed.

“Jennifer Castle,” is a rolling romance with some inspiring guitar picking. Even Romano’s vocals, which were never his strong suit, are clear and heartfelt. I don’t even mind the fade out…but then it fades back in, again to a different song. During this second movement, Romano delivers a minute of what I think is a critique of artificiality in love songs. Some choice lines from this “hidden” track that he’s tacked on:

“…Yes, and you’re all pushing the same trash

And I just don’t believe it

‘Cause there’s a lack of sincerity

In the words you’re trying to write

Fake love songs”

And:

“Yes, you’re cheapening the sentiment

That you’re trying to make to them

Just another fake love song.

Goodness artificialized”

Romano sabotages his own song for the sake of what? To prove that there is artificiality in love songs? Because to me, what he does here is a prime example. Or is that the point, some kind of endless art-comments-on-itself feedback loop? Again I get it, but it doesn’t make it good.

Of the album’s three best songs, only “When I Learned Your Name” is left unblemished by some kind of self-conscious meta-commentary. Unfortunately, at only 2:23 in length, that just wasn’t enough here to make up the difference.

To be fair, this album is better than you’d think based on this review. There is a lot of genuinely pretty music here, with some thoughtful writing from Romano, and some top-notch guitar playing. However in the constant attempt to rebel against himself, Romano ends up on a narrow ledge where there’s only room for him, and not his audience. Not surprisingly, there is no room for this CD on my CD shelf as a result.

Best tracks: 90% of the Pride of Queens, When I Learned Your Name, 80% of Jennifer Castle 

CD Odyssey Disc 1029: Shovels and Rope

I’ve had a lovely weekend hanging with my wife, chilling out and watching Wimbledon. Yesterday I watched one my favourite players, Garbine Muguruza, win the women’s final. When I’m done this review I’m going to go see if my favourite men’s player of all time, Roger Federer, can add to his legend.

On the musical front I followed through on my threat of buying a bunch of metal music on Friday, adding albums by King Diamond, Cirith Ungol, Iron Maiden, Opeth, Ghost and Type O Negative to the collection. I also found indie folk albums by Julie Miller and Josh Ritter I’d been looking for. After all, man does not live by metal alone.

Disc 1029 is…Self-Titled

Artist: Shovels and Rope

Year of Release: 2008

What’s up with the Cover? A dove having a good day and a cow having a bad one.

How I Came To Know It: I was originally introduced to the band by my friend Justin, but this particular album was me digging through their back catalogue. You can’ buy this album on CD separately. It only comes as an insert with the record. This annoyed me, but I overcame. I bought the record for $30, opened it and took out the CD and then sold the record back to the same clerk for $14. So basically, I got the CD for $16, which is what I would have paid anyway.

How It Stacks Up:  I have three Shovels and Rope albums. This one is pretty awesome, but it falls just short of 2014’s “Swimmin’ Time” (reviewed back at Disc 978). I’ll put it in second place overall.

Ratings: 3 stars but almost 4

Shovels & Rope self-titled debut album shows that husband and wife team Cary Ann Hearst and Michael Trent knew exactly what kind of music they wanted to make from the beginning. All the elements they would refine on “Swimmin’ Time” six years later are here: sublime harmonies, knee-slapping rhythms and a talent for keeping things sparse and real.

Indie folk can sometimes steer unpleasantly into detached irony, where a band is too self-aware that they are making ‘old timey’ music, and intent on letting us in on the joke rather than feeling the music down deep. Shovels & Rope keep it real, and their love of the rich tradition of Americana comes across crisp and clear. On “Mexico” they even have a verse where a lover is saying their partner can go, but they’ll have to leave the music collection behind:

I won't let you leave, I won't let you leave
Not with all my Django, Emmylou and Steve
I won’t let you leave, I won't let you leave
Not with my Revival tucked down in your sleeve
If you're gonna go, take the ones you gave to me all the way to Mexico”

Ah, the division of the music collection after a break up. If it were my I wouldn’t part with my Emmylou Harris, Steve Earle or Gillian Welch’s “Revival” (bonus points if you caught that one) but I might let Django Reinhardt go. I like it but I almost never put it on.

But I digress…

The band plays crisp and clear throughout, with every word enunciated and lots of space in the sparse production to let their voices shine. Most of the singing is done in harmony - often loose, sometimes tight – but always emotionally evocative.

If anything this first record is more raw and real than later releases, with many songs with just vocal and one or two instruments. “Magdelina” is a guitar, a banjo and a splash of tambourine, with each one having lots of room to stand out and add its dimension to the song. On “Can’t Hardly Stand It” the biggest non-vocal element are hand claps, but that’s all it needs to work its magic. All that empty space leaves lots of room for the vocals to resonate and sink in.

The songs have the steady roll of trains, cars and landscapes filled with distance, all used to underscore the hard-scrabble lives of the characters making their way in the world. “Boxcar” features a man bleeding out after a crime spree gone wrong, and “Gasoline” is a town dying just as painfully.

On “1,200 Miles” the slow death is a relationship. Here the distance is not only the backdrop to the scene, but an active antagonist driving two people apart. And the rapid fire delivery of lines like:

“If you wanna love me baby then I wish you would

‘cause I woke up feeling like damaged goods

And I learned to live with the consequence

Of hanging my heart on your barbed-wire fence”

Underscores the urgent need to fix things on the home front before it is too late.

There are bluesy elements on the album as well, that are what the White Stripes might have sounded like if they unplugged and went folk. These songs I like less, but the way they dig in helps to provide a counterpoint to the campfire sing-a-long feel of the other songs. They ground the album with some well-placed grit.

This album was a thoroughly enjoyable listen and although relatively new to my collection is going to get a lot of play in the months and years ahead.

Best tracks: Gasoline, Boxcar, Magdelina, 1200 Miles, Build Around Your Heart a Wall, Mexico

CD Odyssey Disc 1028: Andrew Combs

A busy week prevented me from writing this review, but with a series of walks ahead of me today I got up early so I could get my thoughts down before I left and then move on to…who knows?

The odyssey is random, my friends. Embrace the randomness.

Disc 1028 is…All These Dreams

Artist: Andrew Combs

Year of Release: 2015

What’s up with the Cover? Andrew Combs head…and a tear in the upper left corner. I ordered this on Amazon, which I rarely do (support your local record store!) and it came damaged. I suppose I could’ve kicked up a fuss with Amazon, but the older you get the more you realize that those hours you spend getting satisfaction over minor slights are better spent doing something enjoyable.

How I Came To Know It: I read a review of Combs’ 2017 album “Canyons of My Mind”. That got me interested, and led me to his back catalogue, and “All These Dreams”.

How It Stacks Up:  I’ve only got two Andrew Combs’ albums. His follow up album, “Canyons of My Mind” has my favourite song by him but “All These Dreams” has better songs and production overall, and so I put it at #1.

Ratings: 4 stars

I’m glad that scheduling conspired to keep this album in my ears for a few extra days, because it got better and better on each listen. If I’d rushed through I might not have recognized it for the subtle beauty it was.

When I got on the bus Tuesday morning, I wasn’t terribly in the mood for Andrew Combs. I had narrowly missed rolling an album by the heavy metal band “Ancient Empires.” I’ve been on a bit of a rediscovery of metal music for the last couple of weeks and rolling Ancient Empires just seemed fitting, but it was not to be. I was to journey once again into the land of indie folk.

What I initially noticed was the odd extra percussion and excess steel guitar on the first track, “Rainy Day Song.” I kept thinking how Combs sounded like Blue Rodeo or Gordon Lightfoot, but not quite as good. The hook on “Foolin’” sounded far too similar to Tom Petty’s “Crawling Back to You” making me wonder if anything new was going to happen.

About halfway through the first listen, my ears settled in and accepted their mission, and I started to appreciate Combs for some of the very reasons I had earlier been unimpressed. He still reminded me heavily of Blue Rodeo and Gordon Lightfoot, but this was a good thing. Other than “Foolin’” he didn’t sound derivative. He sounded like someone who wasn’t afraid to bring country, folk and rock elements together and make them work.

Combs is a gifted songwriter, creating melodies that have a mid-career sophistication to them without falling into the trap of being fancy for the sake of being fancy. I would probably have made the production a little less lush, but Combs leaves sufficient room for the melody to breathe its magic that it is just a minor quibble on my part. He is aided ably by excellent playing of studio musicians Jeremy Fetzer (guitar) and Spencer Cullum Jr. (pedal steel). The mix is nice and even, giving every instrument a chance to shine, and Combs’ voice is powerful enough to rise above it all when the song demands it.

Combs’ voice reminded me of Blue Rodeo’s Jim Cuddy. He doesn’t have Cuddy’s chops, or the same depth of broken-hearted hurt that Cuddy has, but he comes awfully close. He certainly has enough of both to make these intensely personal songs resonate with authenticity.

The song that first drew me in was “Pearl.” Driven by the heavy thud of the bass guitar, and punctuated by cascade of minor keys, “Pearl” is a song that asks you to look a bit more carefully at the down-and-out. Everyone has a story: a homeless man who was once a gifted musician, a prostitute raising her two younger brothers, and a criminal who took the rap so his brother could run. “Pearl” helps you get past the surface and see that marginal people also have a story worth telling.

With “Pearl” giving me purchase on Combs’ sound and purpose, the album began falling into place. “Long Gone Lately” is a country song the way country music sounds when it is at its best; plaintive and heartfelt. The song is punctuated by steel guitar and some kind of trail whistling, and it all works. There’s even a little castanet action, which I now welcomed.

A run of solid songs cascaded by, full of flawed triumphs, things broken and then reconstructed into song. Combs dredges up some dark thoughts and works them out with you as witness. “Slow Road to Jesus” is a song about someone resigned to drink himself into an early grave. It is followed by “Month of Bad Habits” where he decides a month of self-destructive behavior is sufficient. OK, technically he says it’ll be “more than a month of bad habits” but you get the impression he’ll call it quits before he meets Jesus.

The album ends with “Suwannee County”. It is a stripped down pastoral, and features the best vocals Combs offers on the album. “Suwannee County” is a quiet, gentle invitation to start again, once your soul is healed up and ready.

Armed with that fresh start, I began the album again, and then a third time, and then a fourth. On each successive listen I liked it more. “Rainy Day Song” became a beautiful, slow building track – a song that signaled the coming storm of the heart that Combs would explore through the rest of the record. “Foolin’” still felt a little derivative, but only a little. It now felt like the outlier on the record, not its representative.

“All These Dreams” is a headphones album. Like a lot of beautiful things, it steals into your soul when you are being quiet and attentive, and giving it a chance to work its magic. I encourage you to do so.

Best tracks: Rainy Day Song, Strange Bird, Pearl, Long Gone Lately, In the Name of You, All These Dreams, Suwannee County

CD Odyssey Disc 1027: Billie Holiday

I’ve been checking out a bunch of metal this week, as I reacquaint myself with what’s been going on in heavy music for the past couple of decades. It has been a welcome return to one of my earliest musical loves. I don’t’ like it all, but I like enough of it to know that there will be more metal entering my collection soon.

The early favourite is Opeth, who really blew me away. I’m looking forward to hearing more from them in the near future…on my stereo.

But now, because variety is the spice of life, some jazz.

Disc 1027 is…The Quintessential Billie Holiday Volume 9

Artist: Billie Holiday

Year of Release: 1991 but featuring music from 1940-1942

What’s up with the Cover? Not much going on here - Billie Holiday and a microphone. As Bad Santa teaches us, “they can’t all be winners, kid”.

How I Came To Know It: I learned about Billie Holiday through a woman I used to date who was a big fan. The first time I heard Billie was on a record player at two in the morning, which is exactly how you should hear her. When I saw they had put out a 9-disc set of her music I grabbed the best three I could and hoped for the best. This was one of them.

How It Stacks Up:  This is a compilation album, so by the rules of the Odyssey it doesn’t stack up.

Ratings: “Best ofs” and compilations don’t get ratings, since they’re not really albums.

There is something magical about being able to enjoy music recorded 75 years ago. That magical experience is helped along considerably when your guide is Ms. Billie Holiday.

Holiday is one of history’s great vocalists, and her combination of sweet, sad and world-worn is like a warm bath you can slip into and let your mind wander. This music is pretty far from my wheelhouse (I’m not much for jazz) but there were very few songs on this record I disliked, and a lot of that success was Holiday’s delivery.

She’s better when she’s being a bit sad, and when she sang upbeat tracks like “Let’s Do It” I found myself wishing instead for Ella Fitzgerald’s playful tones. That is the only time that happened though, and on every other song I’d take Billie singing these tunes over anyone else that was offered. This is particularly true on wistful tracks like “Georgia on My Mind” that feel like they were written for her and only her. Sorry, Ray Charles. This is just…better.

Holiday follows that classic with the sexy “Romance in the Dark,” which she delivers with an aggressive jump on the beat, brazen and unapologetic. The song also has a nice piano solo and a bit of saxophone, but at a running time of 2:12 not too much of either.

Most of the recordings on this compilation are around three minutes long, which is just enough time for Holiday to cast a spell, play a little with the melody and let some of the fine jazz musicians playing with her have a responsibly brief solo. I think I’d like jazz a lot more if it was always this restrained.

And so it was that I found myself looking up who played on “Romance in the Dark” only to find the people who’d written the liner notes complaining the song wasn’t longer. Different strokes for different folks, I suppose.

One song I didn’t love was “Mandy Is Two” a song about a toddler who is proud because she’s a big girl now (evidence: she knows her alphabet and can tie her own shoes). In the song Mom is sad to see her daughter growing up so quickly. Seriously, Mom – the kid is two, she’s a long way from grown up. The whole thing just felt like the world’s worst conversation to get trapped in at some society dinner party. “Ooh – did you hear that Mandy knows all her ABC’s?” “Ooh – you don’t say! That’s marvelous!”

Barf.

Much better was the classic “God Bless the Child,” a song about child poverty. Hearing Holiday sing:

“Yes, the strong gets more
While the weak ones fade
Empty pockets don't ever make the grade.”

Is a heartbreaking observation, and a hell of a lot more compelling than whether Mandy can tie her shoes.

Holiday does a fine job of walking the line between romance and social commentary. The musical interludes on this album are beautiful and well-placed as well, but the star is Billie Holiday’s voice, which reaches across three-quarters of a century to pull your heart right out of your chest. 75 years from now she’ll still be doing it to a whole new generation of listeners.

Best tracks: Georgia On My Mind, Romance in the Dark, God Bless the Child, Am I Blue?, Solitude, I Cover the Waterfront

CD Odyssey Disc 1026: John Prine

Welcome to the weekend, gentle readers! Let me give you a musical distraction while other websites are recycling content and hoping you won’t notice until Monday.

Disc 1026 is…The Missing Years

Artist: John Prine

Year of Release: 1991

What’s up with the Cover? John Prine sits against a rock with what appears to be an illegal smile pasted on his face. This picture looks like Ted Turner got a hold of it and coloured it in. Or maybe Prine was photoshopped in and never actually leaned against that rock.

How I Came To Know It: A few months ago I decided to do a serious delve into John Prine’s discography. When I started the process I owned two John Prine albums and when I was done I owned six, including this one. I’m still on the lookout for a seventh, 1978’s “Bruised Orange” but no luck so far.

How It Stacks Up:  I’m not sure. I bought so much John Prine so fast I don’t properly know about three of the six albums yet. However, since (spoiler alert) this album isn’t staying in the collection let’s assume the others are all better.

Ratings: 2 stars

My last review was an album that started slow and then recovered nicely. “The Missing Years” was the opposite, starting strong and then quickly fading. Unfortunately the fade stuck with me harder than the start.

To say John Prine is not the most talented vocalist would be a bit of an understatement. Fortunately, listening to Prine has never been about how many notes he can hit, but rather about his gift for writing an effortless country tune and his talent for storytelling.

As I noted in the lede, the album starts out strong on both counts. “Picture Show” is a foot-tapping earworm and while it wasn’t about anything terribly interesting, when you’re grooving to a good tune, you can forgive Prine a moment of being merely ordinary with words.

Better is the second track, “All the Best,” a song with a rolling finger picking guitar that favourably compares with Townes Van Zandt or Steve Earle at their best. Prine shows that with a bit of age comes wisdom, as he tells a story of a lost love. He walks the line between sadness and acceptance, and manages (after a struggle) to land on the side of the latter.

And while the third song “Sins of Memphisto” is catchy, and the song is generally solid, the goofy title presages the record’s impending decline from there on.

 Like Guy Clark, John Prine has a bit of an annoying uncle vibe about him. You know, the guy at the family reunion who hangs around the barbecue and tells the same corny jokes you heard him tell at last year’s gathering.

“It’s a Big Old Goofy World” is loaded with clichéd expressions, and painfully obvious rhymes like:

“Up in the morning, work like a dog

Is better than sitting like a bump on a log”

And:

“You oughta see his wife, she’s a cute little dish

She smokes like a chimney and drinks like a fish.”

Even though I suspect all these clichés are deliberate, Prine is better than this, and while there isn’t anything worse than “It’s a Big Old Goofy World”, there are plenty more bad rhymes on the songs that follow as well.

When the songs aren’t being goofy, they lean to saccharine. “Daddy’s Little Pumpkin” uses an old Americana folk melody, but Prine doesn’t do enough with it to update it or make it interesting. The guitar playing is beautiful here (in fact, Prine pleasantly surprised me with his skills on the acoustic throughout) but the lyrics just aren’t up to his usual standards.

The final track is “Jesus, the Missing Years” is a song that I liked on my first listen but that lost its shine pretty quickly thereafter. It is a tongue-in-cheek imagining of Jesus deciding to move to Italy and get into some misadventures as a musician before becoming God. There are clever turns of phrase here and I think it would have worked in 1975, but in 1991 the hippy vibe of it all felt dated.

The record has a ton of guest stars, including Heartbreakers Mike Campbell and Benmont Tench, and background vocals from Bruce Springsteen, Bonnie Raitt and Tom Petty. It is hard to go wrong with that kind of star power, and to be fair you couldn’t say “The Missing Years” goes that wrong. It just didn’t inspire me on repeat listens the way I wanted it to.

It did inspire the Grammy’s though, winning in 1991 for best contemporary folk album. Of course, the Grammies love to reward old artists making a comeback (this was Prine’s first album in five years) and they also love to namedrop, so all those names I dropped in the preceding paragraph wouldn’t have hurt either. God, the Grammies suck.

“The Missing Years” didn’t sufficiently impress me to make it to the main shelves of my CD collection and so I’m going to reluctantly part with it. I will it to a home where it’ll get more love. For all that, like the album’s best song I wish John Prine all the best.

Best tracks: Picture Show, All the Best, Sins of Memphisto

CD Odyssey Disc 1025: Mark Knopfler

From a review of the Shangri-Las to an artist who once released an album called “Shangri-La.” A mystical connection through the chaos, or just my brain making random connections to create a sense of order? And which of those would be less foreboding?

Disc 1025 is…Tracker

Artist: Mark Knopfler

Year of Release: 2015

What’s up with the Cover? Mr. Knopfler stands with his back to us, looking across a field. The shot implies he’s searching for something, but the hand on his hip further suggests he’s frustrated and not finding it. Maybe he needs…a tracker. Get it? Get it?

Man, I crack myself up.

How I Came To Know It: Mark is one of those artists that has earned a pass. He puts out a new album and I buy it. That’s what happened here.

How It Stacks Up:  Not counting his many duet projects, Knopfler has eight solo albums, and I have all of them. Of those eight, “Tracker” comes in sixth, narrowly displacing “Ragpicker’s Dream” for the dubious honour of third-last. Since this is the last of my Mark Knopfler solo reviews, here’s a recap:

1. Golden Heart: 5 stars (reviewed at Disc 448)
2. Sailing to Philadelphia: 5 stars (reviewed at Disc 136)
3. Privateering: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 748)
4. Shangri-La: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 740)
5. Get Lucky: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 129)
6. Tracker: 2 stars (reviewed right here)
7. The Ragpicker’s Dream: 2 stars (reviewed at Disc 128)
8. Kill to Get Crimson: 2 stars (reviewed at Disc 836)

Ratings: 2 stars but almost 3

First impressions are important, and Mark Knopfler’s eighth solo album “Tracker” struggles to overcome a bad one. By the end, it has mostly succeeded, but it’s a shame it takes so long getting there.

“Tracker” opens slow and not in a pleasant languorous kind of way. “Laughs and Jokes and Drinks and Smokes” is supposed to feel collegial and welcoming, but instead it feels dated and hokey and - like its title - too long. The song that follows (“Basil”) doesn’t do much better. So often Knopfler’s character studies are insightful and heartfelt, but these first two songs feel like pale imitations of his earlier work.

“River Towns” is better; a song that is half rolling sea shanty, half tavern tale. It would have been helped by Knopfler wrapping it up about two minutes sooner (coincidentally around the time the annoying eighties saxophone starts drifting into the mix).

The sax work on “River Towns” had me wishing the part had instead been played by Knopfler on guitar. Knopfler is the world’s greatest contemporary guitar player, and the beginning of “Tracker” suffers for his seeming refusal to show that talent off. Early on he seems more interested in delivering a mix of lounge jazz and the old people version of R&B.

Then just when I was going to pack it in, Knopfler seems to wake up from whatever reverie he’s been in. Eight tracks in on “Lights of Taormina” he starts dropping gorgeous, rich guitar licks, and turning phrases so complicated and cleverly resolved it had me thinking of mid-seventies Dylan.

This is followed by the wistful and mysterious “Silver Eagle” and then a character study worth tipping your ear toward, in “Beryl” where Knopfler also channels some guitar reminiscent of early Dire Straits.

The run of excellence continues into “Wherever I Go,” a duet featuring the sublime vocal of Wailin’ Jenny Ruth Moody. It is hard to go wrong when Moody is singing a song, and her full and pure tone is the perfect match to the big, rounded sound of Knopfler’s guitar. Even his vocals are hitting their stride at this point. I didn’t even mind when the saxophone kicked in; it just felt like a good episode of “Moonlighting” at that point.

This is the last “official” song on the record, and if it ended there it would have ended on a high note. Instead, there are four “bonus” tracks (I’m not sure what that means – I guess it is an attempt to get people to buy the CD version). This raises the total number of songs to 15 and bumps the total playing time to a horribly bloated 74 minutes. Just like that the record goes from committing a simple misdemeanor (“one too many songs”) to a capital crime (“way too goddamn long”).

I’d be tempted to say he should have just cut those bonus tracks, but that should have happened earlier. Also, some of the bonus tracks are the better songs on the album. “My Heart Has Never Changed” is an anthem for every busted hearted bloke within ear-shot. “Heart of Oak” is a simple acoustic number that sounds so timeless you’re sure it was written in the fifteenth century, even though it is actually a Knopfler original. It also showcases some of the finest finger picking you will ever hear in this or any other century.

This disc is wildly uneven. It has enough good content to rate it three stars if it weren’t for how interminably long it is. Instead, I’m going to hold it just shy of the mark as punishment for making me wait so long for all the good stuff.

Best tracks: River Towns, Lights of Taormina, Silver Eagle, Beryl, Wherever I Go, My Heart Has Never Changed, Heart of Oak

CD Odyssey Disc 1024: The Shangri-Las

After a long day and a hot walk home, I’m a bit knackered, but the Odyssey must sail on!

Disc 1024 is…The Best of the Shangri-Las

Artist: The Shangri-Las

Year of Release: 1996 but featuring music from 1964-1967

What’s up with the Cover? The Shangri-Las themselves: lead singer Mary Weiss flanked by identical twin sisters Marg and Mary-Ann Ganser.

These outfits look a little like something out of Star Trek – I guess this is what passed for high fashion in the mid-sixties, whether you were a trio of pop starlets or boldly going where no man has gone before. In the case of the Shangri-Las, both were true.

How I Came To Know It: I saw the Shangri-Las mentioned by Aimee Winehouse on a documentary about her as being an important early influence in her music. When they played a clip, I liked what I heard. I was originally on the hunt for their only two studio albums, but this compilation had most of what was on them, and the singles as well, so it just made sense.

How It Stacks Up:  Compilation albums don’t stack up. Them’s the rules.

Ratings: No rating for “best ofs” either – they are not true albums. They can still be fun, though!

In an age of sweet and saccharine girl groups, the Shangri-Las gave pop an edge it desperately needed. More than fifty years later, their music has taken on a nostalgic quality, but is still sharp enough to cut you. The Shangri-Las were sometimes a trio and sometimes a quartet, but they always had plenty of attitude to spare.

Everyone knows this band for “Leader of the Pack”. However, even though history has remembered them mostly for a single song, they were a lot more than that. The melodies on these songs are incredible, lilting doo-wap style crooning, mixed in with the rough edge of rock and roll and even a little jazz.

Every song on this album had me swaying my head or swinging my hips, and they made my journey home from work more pleasant every day. They have a groove and a soaring quality that makes you feel like spinning a 360 at every red light. Of course, I didn’t, but I probably had a stupid grin on my face the whole way home.

And for all that happy, schmaltzy, pop these songs are edgy. Let’s not forget that even their most famous hit ends with the titular pack leader wiping out on his motorcycle and dying. And while the girls sing their regrets that they’ll miss him, you also get the distinct impression they’re going to be able to move on just fine. Case in point: “Out in the Streets” featuring another bad boy, who has agreed to set aside his wild life to be worthy of our fearless gals’ affection. But as they note on the song:

“He don't hang around
with the gang no more
He don't do the wild things
that he did before
He used to act bad
Used to, but he quit it
It make me so sad
Cause I know that he did it
for me.”

Bad move, fella. If you don’t stop shaping up and flying right, I get the impression the Shangri-Las will be moving on in search of someone wilder.

On other tracks, a mom dies of grief after her daughter runs away (“I Can Never Go Home Anymore”), and a young couple dies in a wreck after their love is denied (“Give Us Your Blessings”). Love is hard for these gals. Even when no one dies, things are rough; on “He Cried” the boyfriend isn’t just dumped, afterward he’s outed for crying about it. Back to the library with you, Poindexter; these gals need a guy made of tougher stuff than that.

The Ganser sisters establish a fine high harmony, and gliding over and under it is lead singer Mary Weiss. Weiss makes it all believable with a delivery that is part pop starlet, part biker chick and part beatnik poet. A lot of these songs are just her doing a sort of proto-rap poetry, sounding sexy and over the top, but mostly sexy.

On “Give Him a Great Big Kiss” she makes lines like “when I say I’m in love, you best believe I’m in love – l-u-v!” delightfully lascivious and when asked how her new man dances, Weiss breathily confesses “close…very very close” in a way that makes you think she’s taken her gum out and leaned in to tell you, so there’ll be no mistaking what she’s driving at.

One of my favourite songs is “Sophisticated Boom Boom,” which is about a girl finding the world’s hippest party. It is a relatively complicated pop song, particularly for its time, with a jazz bass line, lots of strange instrumentation and swing-like kick to it. Weiss owns it from beginning to end, making her vocal cadence just one more instrument working its way into the mix with the grace and attitude of a Nancy Sinatra.

Most of the tracks are written by a guy named Shadow Morton, who deserves a lot of the credit for coming up with such great sixties pop, flavoured with a counter culture vibe and a dash of danger. However, it is the Shangri-Las’ swagger that bring them to life.

Even though there are 25 songs on this record, they are all so short it’s all over in just over an hour, leaving you wanting more.

Sadly, there isn’t much more, as the Shangri-Las had a handful of singles, two studio albums and that’s about it. But despite the relatively meager output, they’ve had a huge impact on performers that followed them. With their combination of talent, moxy and some great songwriting, it is easy to see why.

Best tracks: Leader of the Pack, Give Him a Great Big Kiss, Out in the Streets, Give Us Your Blessings, The Dum Dum Ditty, The Train from Kansas City, I Can Never Go Home Anymore, Sophisticated Boom Boom, He Cried, Past Present and Future, 

CD Odyssey Disc 1023: The Pogues

Happy Belated Canada Day! I’ve had a lovely weekend so far, meeting up with an old friend, hanging with my lovely wife, playing some Ultimate and (of course) adding to my music collection. Here are some albums you can expect to hear about in the months and years ahead:

• Three Secret Sisters albums: their self-titled debut, “Put Your Needle Down” and “You Don’t Own Me Anymore”
• Joan Shelley’s “Electric Ursa” and “Over and Even”
• K. Flay, “Everywhere is Somewhere”
• Dawes, “Nothing is Wrong”
• Great Big Sea, “The Hard and the Easy”
• Warren Zevon, “Wanted Dead or Alive”
• Portugal. The Man, “Woodstock”

OK, from albums I’m just discovering to one that has been in my collection for a very long time.

Disc 1023 is…Rum, Sodomy & the Lash

Artist: The Pogues

Year of Release: 1985

What’s up with the Cover? A take on 19^th century artist Theodore Gericault’s famous painting, “The Raft of the Medusa,” except with members of the Pogues edited in. I’ve seen the original painting in the Louvre and it was a moving experience, immersing you in the anguish and dread of the shipwrecked crew. The Pogues would later write a song about the event on their 1990 album “Hell’s Ditch”.

Whether having the Pogues on the raft would have prevented any of the starvation and cannibalism that occurred is unlikely, but at least the music would have been better while you waited around to die.

How I Came To Know It: I knew a couple of Pogues songs from the radio, and I owned “If I Should Fall From Grace with God,” but this particular album was introduced to me by my friend Tony one weekend long ago when I was visiting him in Vancouver.

How It Stacks Up:  I have five Pogues’ albums (basically everything they did with Shane MacGowan in the band) and I like them all, but “Rum, Sodomy & the Lash” is the best of them all. Since this is the last Pogues album in my collection, here is a full recap:

1. Rum, Sodomy & the Lash: 5 stars (reviewed right here)
2. If I Should Fall From Grace with God: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 451)
3. Red Roses for Me: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 835)
4. Hell’s Ditch: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 798)
5. Peace and Love: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 121)

Ratings: 5 stars

“Rum, Sodomy & the Lash” is a traditional Irish folk album, infused with the rebellious energy of rock and roll. It is a bleak examination of regret and loss which nevertheless inspires your soul by virtue of its unflinchingly honesty.

Roughly half the songs are traditional folk songs, arranged by the Pogues, and the other half are Shane MacGowan originals. These originals stand shoulder to shoulder with some of folk music’s great standards and give away no advantage.

Shane MacGowan is a troubled genius, and he was never more troubled or brilliant than he was on this record. The opening two tracks, “The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn” and “The Old Main Drag” explore the underbelly of alcoholism and violence. “Sick Bed of Cuchulainn” gives the knife an extra twist, naming itself after Celtic legend’s greatest hero, and then featuring such non-heroic actions as pissing yourself, catching syphilis and vomiting in a church. All of it is done to a rollicking tune that captures the manic celebration of someone determined to hit rock bottom as quickly as possible.

On “the Old Main Drag” the main character gives blow jobs in alleys for a five dollar bill, all so he can have one more pint at the local pub. These are Irish drinking stories where the song doesn’t end with everyone having a rollicking good time, but instead bleed into the next day, where we find our heroes lying beaten and hung over in the street, waiting to die.

Why the hell would anyone want to listen to stories like these? Because when they are done this beautifully you can’t look away. These are the stories of the street without the filter of propriety. This is what goes on in those alleys you wisely don’t go down after dark. “Rum, Sodomy & the Lash” walks you down there, and tapes your eyes open, “Clockwork Orange” style, to make sure you don’t miss anything.

The playing on the album is exceptional, with every member of the band (and there are a lot) at the top of their game. The songs roll smooth and easy, including two instrumentals (“Wild Cats of Kilkenny” and “A Pistol for Paddy Garcia”) that let you focus exclusively on just how good they are. Both songs are original compositions that mix Irish reels and sea shanties with the mystery of old west trail songs, and play the mixture with the same furious intensity you’d find on a metal album.

MacGowan’s vocals are thick and powerful, and he spits out these tales of woe with the veritas of a man who lives hard and unhealthy. “A Pair of Brown Eyes” opens with:

“One summer evening, drunk to hell

I sat there nearly lifeless”

And MacGowan sings it in a matter-of-fact resignation that tells you it’s nothing new to him. On later records, MacGowan’s slur gets a bit out of hand and he’s hard to understand, but on “Rum, Sodomy & the Lash” his deliver is the perfect mix of drunken bravado and artistic precision. It seems like he’s always about to fall off the beat, but he never does, holding just to the back of it; the perfect counterpoint to the energetic playing of his band mates.

Bassist Cait O’Riordan was still with the band at this point (she left after this record), and provides a brief counterpoint to MacGowan’s bawl with a delightful rendition of “I’m a Man You Don’t Meet Every Day.” I know MacGowan is the star of the show, but I’ve always missed the presence of O’Riordan on later Pogues’ records.

On other records I have John McDermott singing “the Band Played Waltzing Matilda” and the Irish Descendants singing “Dirty Old Town” and thought they were good, but once I heard the Pogues’ do them on “Rum, Sodomy & the Lash” other versions sound thin and false.

This album has been a big part of my life, and despite having played it hundreds of times, I never tire of it. In fact, every time I’m about to go on holiday (and sometimes when I’m just heading into a weekend) I sing a few lines from “Sally MacLennane”:

“I’m sad to say, I must be on my way

So buy me beer and whiskey ‘cause I’m going far away.

I’d like to think I’ll be returning when I can

To the greatest little boozer and to Sally MacLennane”

And while that’s just me excited to have some time off, it is as good a metaphor for how I feel about the record as well. No matter how far away I go, “Rum, Sodomy & the Lash” is my Sally MacLennane – a great and tragic love I’ll always come back to.

Best tracks: All tracks