CD Odyssey Disc 1286: James McMurtry

I’ve had a pretty frustrating couple of days juggling various labour jobs I am not skilled enough to do myself. Three visits from tradespeople and every visit resulted in some unexpected complication. Argh! However, while the situations were annoying, the people involved were all great and once again reaffirmed my faith in that old Neil Peart line, “folks are basically decent, most of the time”.

Frustrated as I was, I went downtown this afternoon, ate five tacos at my favourite Mexican joint, and went CD shopping. This helped a lot. I found a couple good ones – the new Bleached record, and two very old Billy Idol records I only recently decided I wanted. Tonight they’ll help me forget that I’ll be spending the weekend without a kitchen sink.

Disc 1286 is… Saint Mary of the Woods

Artist: James McMurtry

Year of Release: 2002

What’s up with the Cover? A bunch of trees in the distance. I doubt these are the titular woods – they look more like what you might see lining a highway to keep the wind down or prevent soil erosion. Bo-ring.

How I Came to Know It: I did a deep dive of James McMurtry’s back catalogue recently, and this album was one of those that caught my attention.

How It Stacks Up:  I have six James McMurtry albums. I’ll rank “Saint Mary of the Woods” at #2. However, since I am still grokking a lot of McMurtry’s work, I reserve the right to adjust that spot up or down.

Ratings: 4 stars

James McMurtry is an average singer, an above-average guitar player and a brilliant songwriter. Put it all together and you get an album where the vocals have limited range, but the stories soar.

McMurtry isn’t a chart topper – I suspect his hard-hitting brand of alternative country is not welcome in mainstream Nashville. This can be a blessing in disguise, as these songs are not restricted by song length (most are five minutes or longer). McMurtry uses the time wisely, revealing the whole melody early on, then spending all that extra time telling a story.

Sometimes these songs are pure poetry, nestled into McMurtry’s easy guitar style. The songs aren’t technically complicated, but the guitar work is multi-layered and played with a rich tone and delicate touch, serving as an emotional backdrop for each verse. The title track is laden with powerful imagery, including:

“Sunrise off the lake shining in your eyes

Shining on the wasted and the wise

All you hear ringing in your ears are bald-faced lies

That scream like gulls in that smoke-stained amber sky.”

Mainstream country artists singing about “drinking beer/down by the pier/wishing you were here” can only dream of pulling together a quatrain like that.

Mostly, McMurtry paints amazing character studies. “Gulf Road” and “Gone to the Y” tell stories of rough-edged characters who have problems with drinking and a few other things besides. “Choctaw Bingo” is a family reunion where the family members brewing up whisky and meth, run red lights and shoot guns at night.

These are all great, but my favourite song makes the geography itself the character. “Out Here in the Middle” is a song that juxtaposes city values and country values. McMurtry doesn’t take a side, he just points out that life in each is different, and nowhere’s going to be perfect. It’s a song with an anthemic sway that makes you want to raise a glass and toast, even as it makes you uncertain of just what you’re celebrating.

The album mixes country styles with straight up blues, with varying degrees of success. Most of the songs that are steeped in a blues riff appealed to me less, but that is just personal preference. “Red Dress” was the exception. It is a blues track with grit to spare. McMurtry plays the part of a drunk and jealous husband watching his wife walk out the door in a sexy dress that he knows didn’t get put on for his benefit. Best line:

“Out the back and down the alley

Gone to get your bucket spiked

Come back when you think you need me

Come back any time you like.”

It’s a curious mix of slander, invective and capitulation.

“Saint Mary of the Woods” is a beautiful record, simple on the surface, deep and complicated underneath. It makes me excited for the next McMurtry album I’ll explore.

Best tracks: Saint Mary of the Woods, Out Here in the Middle, Red Dress, Gulf Road, Gone to the Y

CD Odyssey Disc 1285: My Chemical Romance

Despite objectively living a pretty charmed life I was feeling kind of down today. Fortunately having no good reason to feel sorry for yourself but feeling it anyway is exactly what this next type of music is all about!

Disc 1285 is… The Black Parade

Artist: My Chemical Romance

Year of Release: 2006

What’s up with the Cover? The Black Parade in full march! The cover online suggests that it should just be the band’s skeletal marshal, and the name of the record in big slashy graphics, but for some reason my copy has a full scene. I like mine better. The art is fantastic as are all the fascinating characters in this disturbing parade…with the possible exception of that bald hospital patient in the lower center. I’m guessing he is depicting cancer (one of the song subjects) but he looks a bit too cartoony to inspire fear and dread.

This cover also folds out – check out the full black parade in all its glory!

If parades were this interesting, I’d probably go see them more often.

How I Came to Know It: I didn’t know it until yesterday; this album belongs to Sheila. I review all the albums in the collection, though, regardless of original ownership or purchase, so here we are.

How It Stacks Up:  This is our only album by My Chemical Romance, so it can’t stack up against anything.

Ratings: 3 stars

My Chemical Romance yearns to be sad. And if you’re a sad listener all the better; they want you to wallow in it. When it comes to true sadness, they fall short, but I didn’t mind because they have a knack for writing catchy songs. I hate to disappoint the band, but …I actually had a lot of fun.

This music is ground zero for what I think the oughts called “emo” but rather than rely on a label, just imagine crossing Green Day’s pop-punk frenetic jump with the Smiths life-view of the world. However, even this is an over-simplification. My Chemical Romance was a pleasant surprise in terms of their range and the number of influences they incorporate. The opening track “The End” has the ponderous doom of Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” and they drop some crunchy guitar in various other places on the record. There is a theatrical element that lands somewhere between later Alice Cooper and a Broadway musical. With its jumpy beat and hard-edged angry lyrics “House of Wolves” is pure psychobilly. Despite all these influences, the record has a remarkable musical cohesiveness.

What really ties the room together, however, is a tapestry of songs woven from depressing topics and sad-sack characters. This stuff is ground zero for the disaffected teens of its day. This music is about outcasts celebrating their isolation with upbeat anthems filled with pyrrhic rebellion.

“Welcome to the Black Parade” is the best example, a call to arms for all the misfits, marching together, saviors of “the broken, the beaten and the damned.” The song is catchy as hell and makes you want to march along yourself and for 5:11 you do.

“Teenagers” is the album’s best offering, a pop rock sing-along celebration of those six or seven years where everything is A Big Deal. This track has a clever structure, starting with the parents who fear those kids, and then seamlessly morphing into the realization they fear each other as well. Teenager or not that hook they build around:

“They said all

Teenagers scare

The living shit out of me.”

Is pop gold at any age.

At the other end, you have “Cancer” a song about…cancer. It features cheery images like “I’m just soggy from the chemo” and the less creative “Know that I will never marry.” Despite these maudlin, over-the-top lyrics, it features some smart production decisions (they strip it down and let the piano and singer Gerard Way take centre stage). It’s a good song, even if it will never hold a candle to the actual devastation of Jason Isbell’s song on the same topic. That’s called “Elephant” if you are brave enough to look it up.

What “the Black Parade” didn’t do was emotionally devastate me. It just lacks emotional resonance, and for a record in a genre called “emo” I am guessing that’s a bad thing. Maybe it is the overwrought lyrics, or maybe it is just the precision of the band (they are so tight they sacrifice a bit of emotion in the process) but I never slumped my shoulders or welled up like I was supposed to. But so what. It may not be the height of tragedy, but I had a good time sometimes that’s enough.

Best tracks: Welcome to the Black Parade, I Don’t Love You, Cancer, Teenagers

CD Odyssey Disc 1284: Marissa Nadler

My last review was “Hell Among the Yearlings” and this album is “Little Hells” which is the same thing if you think about it.

Disc 1284 is… Little Hells

Artist: Marissa Nadler

Year of Release: 2009

What’s up with the Cover? Marissa stares at the floor, or maybe she’s enamored with that giant brooch she’s wearing.

How I Came to Know It: I read a review for her 2018 album “For My Crimes” and I fell pretty deep, buying five of her albums in the space of about a month and a half. “Little Hells” was the last one I bought (it is an earlier record, and harder to find).

How It Stacks Up:  I have five Marissa Nadler albums. I’m not sure why, but I do. Anyway, I expected “Little Hells” to really wow me, but since it didn’t, and I don’t know the other albums very well yet, I’m going to be optimistic and say this one is #5.

Ratings: 2 stars

“Little Hells” is an ethereal album. This can make it delightfully mysterious, but it can also make it feel hard to connect with.

Marissa Nadler has a beautiful voice, breathy and filled with angst. She sounds like a fallen angel trying to sing her way back to heaven. This is what first drew me to her music, and at times captivated my attention.

This was particularly true on two songs: “Ghosts & Lovers” and “Mistress” which have the strongest songwriting and share a pale and forlorn beauty that permeates the whole record to some extent, but comes out strongest here.

“Ghosts & Lovers” is a song for anyone who has walked through the stark world after ending a relationship. Nadler evokes the image of “a family of four” walking by, underscoring the narrator’s own state of aloneness. Nadler masterfully mixes the concept of a ghost and the memory of a lover, singing:

“Ghosts and lovers
They will haunt you for a while
From the stars and from the sheets and ground”

The tune is ghostly and along with the low pronounced presence of the bass guitar will make you feel haunted.

“Mistress” – inexplicably named “Mistress on a Sunny Day” inside the CD case and by its shorter title on the back – is another tear-jerker. That said, the sometimes-mentioned “sunny day” does shine through in the melody, which has a soaring quality that lets you know better days are ahead. In this case, those better days are seen through the eyes of a mistress who has decided to no longer wait on the vain promises that her lover will leave his wife. She’s moving on and while it’s sad, it’s also triumphant.

Both songs benefit from a misty insubstantial production which works for them, but unfortunately the whole album features that same quality. Taken together there is a bit too much of the same thing. A lot of other tracks have the feel of a solid folk song that is too saturated in atmosphere and excess production. This is particularly true of “Heart Paper Lover.” This song features a Theremin recreating the sound of when the steering in your car is about to go. The first time I heard it I took my headphones off twice to locate the car, before realizing it was deliberate. In this case, deliberately annoying.

Also, while Nadler does sad very well with this much sadness on one record there are bound to be missteps. “Brittle, Crushed & Torn” is maudlin and the play on words of the song title “The Whole is Wide” is not clever enough to make up for self-conscious lyrics like “I’m more than blue/I’m violet.”

I had a lot of chores that involved long bus rides over the weekend, and I got in a lot of listens to “Little Hells,” probably six or seven although at some point I lost count. My last listen on the walk home tonight was the most enjoyable one yet. I ascribe this partly to Stockholm Syndrome, and partly to the fact that these atmospheric mood pieces benefit from a lengthy immersion. I never got tired of “Little Hells” but I also never fell in love the way I wanted.

Instead that last walk home felt like the last kiss from one of Nadler’s lovelorn characters; lingering on my lips a little too long, and a little too distant, making me realize I had never loved this music like I hoped I would. Part of me thinks Marissa would like it this way.

Best tracks: Ghosts & Lovers, Mistress (or Mistress on a Sunny Day)

CD Odyssey Disc 1283: Gillian Welch

In my last review, I posited that Emily Barker’s band, the Red Clay Halo, is named after a song by Gillian Welch. And then my next random album selection turns out to…Gillian Welch! Stupendous synchronicity, Batman!

Disc 1283 is… Hell Among the Yearlings

Artist: Gillian Welch

Year of Release: 1998

What’s up with the Cover? This is a pretty common folk cover in that it just looks like some random selection from the artists family photo album. “Oh, yes – this is that time I was standing out beside the house. The wind was really cold that day, and you can see my hair is blown clear out of place – scandalous!” One look at this cover and you might expect some happy pastorals of family life…but you’d be wrong.

How I Came to Know It: After years of flirting with the idea, a couple of years ago I decided to take a journey through Gillian Welch’s back catalogue. I liked what I heard, and I liked it a lot.

How It Stacks Up:  I have four Gillian Welch albums and they are all amazing. When I reviewed “Time (the Revelator) I thought I had heard the pinnacle of her work because to beat that record out you’d need a five star album. Enter, “Hell Among the Yearlings” to do just that, taking over first place with a perfect score.

Ratings: 5 stars

I thought “Time (the Revelator)” was a quiet and stripped-down record, but “Hell Among the Yearlings” takes that concept to a whole new level. For this reason it takes a few listens to fully attune to its greatness. That’s not a problem, because every time I got to the last song all I wanted to do was start over at Track One.

That track is “Caleb Meyer” and it sets the tone for “Hell Among the Yearlings” from the start. The song tells the story of an attempted rape of a woman by her neighbor, forestalled when her prayers are answered:

“I cried my God I am your child

Send your angels down

Then feeling with

My finger tips

The bottle neck I found

I drew that glass

Across his neck

Fine as any blade

Then I felt his blood

Pour fast and hot

Around me where I laid”

The imagery is intense and disturbing, and the insistent double guitar of Welch and husband and co-writer David Rawling adds additional intensity with a visceral beat-forward jangle that sets your nerves on fire and cements you emotionally in the scene.

The record is full of similar tales of darkness and woe, and characters down on their luck and struggling with poverty, drug abuse or - such as in the case of “The Devil Had a Hold of Me” - just a litany of bad decision making. Each song immerses you in the mind of a character so completely that in the 3-5 minute running time you feel like you’ve lived a lifetime.

The romance an addict feels for his fix is explored in languorous pain on “My Morphine” and on “Whiskey Girl” you get to see the problem magnified when two people feed off each other’s weakness:

“Nowhere man

And the whiskey girl

They loaded up for

A weekend in the underworld.”

On “Miner’s Refrain” you live the dread that an East Tennessee miner feels every time they go into the ground and hope they’ll come back alive at the end of the day.

The record is also a master class in bluegrass, and whether Welch and Rawling choose two guitars or a guitar and banjo, they blend their individual brilliance into a single collection of intricate notes, played in perfect time. Welch’s voice floats on top of this matrix of sound, filling the song with equal portions of sweetness and hurt. The duo even throw in some Buddy Holly style rock and roll licks on “Honey Now” just to show they can do that too.

Many bluegrass records include old classics reimagined alongside the artist’s original compositions. I was sure that would be the case with “Hell Among the Yearlings” with songs like “Caleb Meyer,” “Miner’s Refrain” and many others having a timeless beauty that you can imagine ringing out in nineteenth or early twentieth century America.

It is only because the songs are so perfectly constructed that you’re sure they must be classics, but every song is a Welch/Rawlings original composition. It is easy to understand how Gillian Welch is a north star for many modern bluegrass and folk artists. These songs will be inspiring future players hundreds of years from now.

The record ends with “Winter’s Come and Gone,” a jaunty up-tempo track that on the face of it is a man down on his luck welcoming the spring after a hard winter, acknowledging that while “Five cold nickels/Ain’t gonna see me through” at least it isn’t cold at night any more.

That’s about as inspiring as “Hell Among the Yearlings” gets, but considering the record started with slitting some rapist’s throat with the Broken Bottle of God, it’s a definite improvement. The real inspiration is in the magnificent singing, songwriting and playing featured on this record. This is as good as it gets on all three counts.

Best tracks: All tracks

CD Odyssey Disc 1282: Emily Barker

Every now and then the dice gods decide they really want me to hear an artist.  Of late, that artist is Emily Barker. Three of my last twenty reviews have been Emily Barker albums. Serves me right for ordering five albums from her all at once. I regret nothing!

Disc 1282 is… Dear River

Artist: Emily Barker & the Red Clay Halo

Year of Release: 2013

What’s up with the Cover? Emily Barker, who appears to have repurposed a folded-paper boat into a necklace. Someone should warn her that while paper boats float well enough for a time, they make damned poor flotation devices if you’re drowning.

How I Came to Know It: This tale is getting told a lot of late, but I discovered her through her Applewood Road side project and worked back from there. This copy is a double CD copy, with a second disc full of acoustic versions of the songs. Emily and the band also took the time to sign their names on the back as well – check it out!

For all I know all these special editions have signatures, but I prefer to think the band was touched I ordered so many albums at once through their Bandcamp site. Either way, I appreciate the gesture.

How It Stacks Up:  I have five Emily Barker albums. “Dear River” is my second favourite.

Ratings: 3 stars but almost 4

“Dear River” is one of those rare records that benefits from bonus material. I liked the record on my first listen, but it was when I heard the acoustic bonus disc that it entered my heart for good.

Barker is good either way, and “Dear River” is her most consistently strong record yet. The songs are powerful and relaxed, like the titular they weave slow and powerful across the landscapes of Barker’s narratives.

Sometimes, these journeys feel intensely personal, such as on the title track, where Barker puts out a plea to the river to take her away, get her to the sea and she’ll take it from there. The song captures that feeling we’ve all had of feeling stuck and just needing a little nudge to recover our momentum. Barker finds that nudge in the beauty and subtle power of a river. It is fitting that the cover features a placid body of water – these songs are soft and peaceful but emotionally powerful beneath the surface.

Barker also puts herself into other characters to deliver social commentary. “Letters” is the story of those displaced by war, desperately trying to stay alive in a time of terrible upheaval but keeping their humanity through the simple act of a letter to a loved one – bearing witness to what they’ve seen but also an act of connectivity across time and space.

Barker’s vocals remain powerful, and as with previous records she doesn’t show off long notes, but rather serves the cadence of the song. She does this so selflessly that you fall into the sound of her voice and forget to listen to what she’s saying. On one hand this is a shame, because the lyrics are lush and compelling. However, it also means the album has the effect of revealing itself to you slowly through multiple listens.

The immediate emotional punch is delivered on fiddle by Anna Jenkins, who once again stands out among many great musicians. She’s my favourite part of the Red Clay Halo (although they are all good). Fun fact: Gillian Welch has a song called “Red Clay Halo” and I’d be willing to bet that is the source of the band’s name. I’ll have to ask them some day but for now it is fun to guess.

As much as I enjoyed the original record, the bonus disc – an acoustic version of the entire album called “The Dog House Sessions” – made me like it even more. Stripped down it was easier to follow Barker’s narratives and it gave me an even deeper appreciation for the high and sweet tone of her vocal performance. Second fun fact “the dog house” is what us blue collar types call the break room where you have your lunch. It left me with the pleasant image of Emily and the band unplugged, knocking out acoustic versions just for fun while they grabbed a sandwich.

The final song (on both versions) is “The Blackwood,” a beautiful pastoral that returns to the oft-visited riverine imagery. Barker sings:

“Like silt on the riverbank

Like sunlight through the trees

I’m your falling star returning

And never will I leave.”

The images sink into you slow and subtly, not unlike this album. I would love to let it sink in a little more, but the Odyssey is a harsh mistress, and I have miles to go before I sleep. Besides, I feel confident that I’ll be taking this one down from the shelf many times in the years to come.

Best tracks: Dear River, Letters, Ghost Narrative, In the Winter I Returned, The Blackwood

CD Odyssey Disc 1281: Thin Lizzy

It feels like once a week someone wants to recommend a podcast to me. I’m sure there are plenty that I’d like but the truth is when I have a free half an hour to plug in and forget the world, I want that time for music. And this singularity of focus allows me to find the time I need to fuel this little Odyssey I’m on. Shall we…?

Disc 1281 is… Nightlife

Artist: Thin Lizzy

Year of Release: 1974

What’s up with the Cover? A black panther stalks the city. This cover would make a bitchin’ painting for the side of a seventies panel fan.

How I Came to Know It: My friend Spence put my on to Thin Lizzy. Spence has a great ear and while we don’t agree on all music, if he vouches for a band, more often than not they are worth a listen. Thanks, Spence for bringing so much good music into my life!

“Nightlife” was an album I liked from the beginning but proved hard to find. I finally got this double album re-issue (with a bunch of bonus content I could have lived without) within the last couple of years.

How It Stacks Up:  I have 10 Thin Lizzy albums and “Nightlife” is one of the best. I’ll rank it 3rd.

Ratings: 4 stars

If you are looking for the window of time when Thin Lizzy were at their greatest, that window opens with “Nightlife”. It isn’t that previous albums like “Vagabonds of the Western World” don’t have their charm, but “Nightlife” is the beginning of something magical.

Not coincidentally, “Nightlife” is also the first album to feature the twin guitar talents of Scott Gorham and Brian Robertson. Whatever particular alchemy these two brought to the band’s music, it clearly works. Together, they bring a soaring, anthemic quality to the album, with solos that take you on whimsical emotional journey but never fail to serve the melodic structure of the song. I was favourably reminded of Blue Oyster Cult’s Buck Dharma.

Underpinning all that tasteful guitar is Phil Lynott’s bass, which is arguably his best work on any Thin Lizzy record. The groove is amazing and the bass is forward in the mix but manages to avoid being intrusive. Settle in and let it move you with classic riffs like on “It’s Only Money” and “Showdown”. If you want a break, switch your focus back to the Gorham/Robertson guitar or Lynott’s silky smooth vocals. Even drummer Brian Downey gets love on this record, including a furious solo that adds to the adrenaline thumping intensity of “Sha-La-La”.

While there are other may slightly edge out “Nightlife” in overall song quality, I am hard pressed to think of one where the sheer quality of the playing is as superb.

Lyrically, these songs tell simple stories of love and desire, as lived by street hustlers and the down-and-out. “She Knows” is ostensibly about a woman’s love, but my read of this song is Lynott’s prayer to Mother Mary to save him from his frailties and addictions. “It’s Only Money” is about old fashioned penury, and how it strips you of opportunity and faith in God alike and “Showdown” features two rival gangs, driven to violence over the allure of a woman.

Despite their subject matter, these songs all have a triumphant groove to them that makes you want to drive fast and stand tall. They are proud songs for characters that often have little else but pride at the end of the day. Despite all this, Lynott challenges you not to look down on these folks, but just to appreciate them for who they are, and maybe even admire their fortitude.

Above all else, “Nightlife” is a slice of musical genius that inexplicably never achieved commercial success. Fortunately, here on the CD Odyssey I don’t give a whit about how many records you sell – I’m just looking for the best music there is. “Nightlife” is a sublime combination of songwriting and musical excellence as good as anything from the golden age of rock and roll that was the mid-seventies.

Best tracks: She Knows, Night Life, It’s Only Money, Showdown, Sha-La-La, Dear Heart

CD Odyssey Disc 1280: B. Dolan

The Odyssey is becalmed of late, with three of the last six reviews ending with me parting company with the album at the end of it all., including this next one.

Disc 1280 is… The Failure

Artist: B. Dolan

Year of Release: 2008

What’s up with the Cover? B. Dolan’s face, artistically treated to look like the Joker only, you know, more psychotic.

How I Came to Know It: My coworker Mike W. put me on to B. Dolan through a track on another one of his records, “Fallen House, Sunken City.” I dug around his other work and this one appealed to me enough on first listen I decided to give it a deeper dive.

How It Stacks Up:  I only have two B. Dolan albums, and if you’ve been following along you know which two. “The Failure” is by far the weaker record for me, so it comes in second.

Ratings: 2 stars

Don’t buy “The Failure” and expect a traditional rap album. Don’t even expect an underground rap album. This stuff is Yoko Ono-level weird, and more of an art project than a music record. Sometimes this is awesome, and sometimes I just wanted to find the exit from the exhibition.

The record is a mix of rap, spoken word poetry, sound effects, and conversations with an automated voice that sounds like Stephen Hawking, if Hawking were an AI learning to be a comedian.

Like I said, it’s weird. When Dolan raps, his flow is solid. “Heart Failure” has a sample that feels like a seventies cop show theme song, that makes you want to strut. There aren’t many songs like this, and Dolan himself confronts this on “Heart Failure” with lines like “it can’t be all about flow” making it clear he isn’t there just to give you something to bob your head to.

He wants to do more, tell more, and (presumably) give you a new perspective. Like a lot of modern art installations, the ambition is more obvious than the message. The combination of skits, musings and drum hits are clearly intended to inspire, but mostly I felt caught halfway between appreciating the skill of it all and wondering about the point.

Also, all those voices and strange sounds are off-putting. Two of the three times I listened to this album I felt discombobulated amid all the cacophony and feedback. Not in a fun way either – more of a physically queasy way. Like a House of Mirrors at a fairground, where at first it is interesting to see light bent in strange ways, but nausea-inducing if you stay in there too long.

The best track on the record is, “The Skycycle Blues” which tells the tale of seventies daredevil Evel Knievel. “Skycycle Blues” is a spoken word masterpiece, beautifully constructed, and delivered with passion and perfect flow. Dolan does it all on this song, getting into the psychology of a man who risked life and limb to deliver thrills of questionable value, while also exploring the relationship between the man, the trick, and the audience that drives him to more and more dangerous stunts by virtue of their intent to keep watching. My favourite lines (of many great ones) cover this latter relationship:

“This helmet

Is to protect me

From my own momentum

This costume

Is to protect you

From the realness of what is happening here!”

The most disturbing track is “Kate” a story about drug abuse, sexual assault and bullying that is hard to listen to, but is – mercifully – at least a story with a beginning, middle and end. This is more than I can say for some of the more “out there” stuff which meander and muse, with little concrete to offer. Many of the tracks focus on establishing a mood, or just exploring a character Dolan creates, rather than what that character might be doing narratively.

The album shows B. Dolan’s considerable talent, but it is also self-indulgent and at times lacks focus. In the end it was like a lot of modern art experiences I’ve had. I appreciated it for the skill required to make it but wouldn’t want to hang it on my wall. Or in this case, my CD shelves.

Best tracks: The Skycycle Blues, Heart Failure, Kate

CD Odyssey Disc 1279: Little Feat

Welcome back, gentle readers. Let’s get to the music!

Disc 1279 is… The Last Record Album

Artist: Little Feat

Year of Release: 1975

What’s up with the Cover? A jackelope pauses on a scrub-brushed street. In the background the hills of Hollywood – composed of orange Jell-O and whipped cream – tower into the sky. Apparently no matter how bat-shit crazy your album cover is, there is always room for Jell-O.

How I Came to Know It: My friend Elaine first put me onto Little Feat as a band. “The Last Record Album” was just me digging through their back catalogue to see what else appealed.

How It Stacks Up:  Turns out “The Last Record Album” didn’t appeal much at all. I have four Little Feat albums and I put this one in last place. As this is my last Little Feat review, here’s a recap:

1. Dixie Chicken: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 1084)
2. Sailin’ Shoes: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 1168)
3. Feats Don’t Fail Me Now: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 797)
4. The Last Record Album: 2 stars (reviewed right here)

Ratings: 2 stars

Little Feat’s prodigious musical talent never fails to ensorcell me, but it was only a matter of time until their urge to noodle would break the charm. That moment finally happened with “The Last Record Album.”

Most of the ingredients that make me love Little Feat on earlier albums are here. Lowell George is a gifted guitar player and songwriter, and he knows how to drop his hazy hippy spell on the blues and create some boogie woogie brilliance. The band takes its lead from George, sitting down in the pocket and letting the spirit of his songs flow through them. Looking back, I’m sure that’s what convinced me to buy this record.

All of that musicianship is present on “The Last Record Album” but unfortunately that’s where the magic ends. The songs don’t have the same structure or appeal as were present on the earlier records I had reviewed. Everything sounds as groovy as ever, but groovy just isn’t enough on its own.

The best track, “Long Distance Love” is an FM radio masterpiece. The song is lyrically about not being with the one you love, but musically it feels so chilled out you don’t mind the separation. It is a solid little number that would sound good played out of a Camaro’s car stereo as you hang out with your buddies down at the lake on a sunny summer afternoon.

Unfortunately, “Long Distance Love” is the exception, and the other tracks tend to have the same relaxation vibe, but without a compelling melody to draw you in. The record is so mellow it would be fine as background music, but who wants music just in the background?

Worse, there are songs on this record that transition from harmless mellow to irksome noodle. “Day or Night” is over six minutes of song and at least half that time ist taken up with various meandering solos, each more surreal than the last. Through the latter half of the record we get an organ solo, a drum solo and – seemingly inevitably – a bass solo. The journey on the organ is particularly arduous. Everyone plays as great as ever, but I still badly wanted it to end.

My CD version of the album has two bonus tracks (three if you count the seven second track consisting of some ballpark-style organ and someone saying “bonus!”). These tracks are advertised on the back of the case as “2 ‘live’ bonus tracks” but despite the punctuation do not feature Prince and are actually live.

One is “A Apolitical Blues” is a traditional blues number imagining a phone call from Mao Tse Tung. It features some solid guitar work but fails to be as funny as it thinks it is and isn’t terribly inventive musically either.

The other “Don’t Bogart That Joint” is both a good public service message and also the better of the two songs. The expression is, as I suspected, a reference to the way Humphrey Bogart would speak while a cigarette dangled from his mouth.

As old movie icons go, I prefer Rock Hudson over Humphrey Bogart. As Little Feat albums go, I prefer the other three I have to this one. Consequently, I will not be bogarting this record, but will instead pass it on without further delay to a new home. I hope they appreciate it more than I did.

Best tracks: Long Distance Love, Don’t Bogart That Joint

CD Odyssey Disc 1278: Linda Ronstadt

After almost five days of being a bachelor, Sheila returned today from a solo vacation in Eastern Canada. I’m bagged after a hard day of work and Sheila is jet-lagged (she’s taking a nap as I write this) but it feels great to have her home. In about an hour I’m going to gently wake her and then, as Leonard Cohen would say, we’re going to “get lost in that hopeless little screen.”

But first, I’m going to write this review. This one features the second straight album from 1977.

Disc 1278 is… Simple Dreams

Artist: Linda Ronstadt

Year of Release: 1977

What’s up with the Cover? Linda puts her face on and, presumably at some point thereafter, her clothes. This cover would be a lot better if that annoying “Prix Special Price” graphic wasn’t there. No that is not a sticker, it is a permanent marring of what is an otherwise very sexy, very sultry album cover.

How I Came to Know It: Linda Ronstadt was a mainstay on AM radio when I was a kid, but I had never previously owned any of her albums. Then about a month ago I decided to check out her discography and see if anything appealed. Four albums did, and “Simple Dreams” was the first one I found that made the shortlist.

How It Stacks Up:  I plan to eventually have four Linda Ronstadt albums, but for now this is the only one, so it can’t really stack up.

Ratings: 4 stars

Modern audiences might be inclined to dismiss Linda Ronstadt as just another cover singer, not realizing the incredible talent that is required to take 10 songs written by, and for, strangers and then make every one of them indelibly your own. Ronstadt had already proven her ability to do it seven times, but her eighth record, - “Simple Dreams” – is her best work yet.

It all starts with that voice: laden with sweetness or hurt depending on the demands of the song, Ronstadt has a rare talent that makes you hang on every word. Artists like Emmylou Harris have a quaver that makes your hair stand up on edge, and Brandi Carlile has a wild power that threatens to blow you over but Ronstadt’s voice is all about purity. Many singers with perfect pitch like this can end up sounding detached, but Ronstadt sells every word with vulnerable emotion.

She also demonstrates an ability to adapt to any style and never sound false or strained. “Simple Dreams” features songs that could appear on pop, easy listening, down-home country or hard rock records. At one point she gently sings an acoustic folk song (“Maybe I’m Right”) and then launches straight into the ragged rock of the Stones’ “Tumbling Dice.” She converts each of them to her own style just enough that they don’t sound awkward beside one another, but not so much that they lose their spirit. She’s the centerpiece of the record, and the songs rotate around her.

It doesn’t hurt that “Simple Dreams” has such a wonderfully curated collection of songs for Ronstadt to show off with. When she’s not showing up the Rolling Stones, she covers Buddy Holly (“It’s So Easy) and Roy Orbison (“Blue Bayou”). “Blue Bayou” is a masterpiece of arrangement and vocal performance. Starting slow with a single bass guitar riff and Ronstadt singing a meandering reverie. As other instruments join her voice swells up into the sweet centre of her range. At the end she soars into a big beautiful note that hangs in the air like a moon over water.

My favourite thing about “Simple Dreams” are Ronstadt’s covers of  Warren Zevon songs. Ronstadt titled her previous album “Hasten Down the Wind” after her first cover of his work. On “Simple Things” she doubles down with two songs, “Carmelita” and “Poor, Poor Pitiful Me.” “Poor, Poor Pitiful Me” is such a rousing cover and so successful that when I heard Zevon’s version my first thought was “what’s this? A Linda Ronstadt cover?” I still like his original, but once you hear the cover, Linda Ronstad’s vocals are always floating in the back of your mind.

“Carmelita” is a less well-known, but equally brilliant track. The song is about a down-and-out heroin addict, penniless and pining for his lover in between trying to score. It’s hard to imagine a voice so sweet telling a story so sad, but hearing that voice drop lines like:

“Carmelita, hold me tighter, I think I’m sinkin’ down.

And I’m all strung out on heroin/on the outskirts of town”

Delivers its own brand of heartache; sweet, vulnerable and quietly tragic.

The production on “Simple Dreams” at times felt a touch too on point, but if you don’t mind the purity of studio sound (which I don’t) this won’t irk you overmuch. Besides, all that studio talent means there is plenty of brilliant playing on the record, and even a few notable guest vocals along the way (Don Henley and Dolly Parton). However great players and famous singers alike take a back seat to the star of this record; Linda Ronstadt in full throat, making every song her own.

Best tracks: It’s So Easy, Carmelita, Blue Bayou, Poor Poor Pitiful Me, Tumbling Dice

CD Odyssey Disc 1277: Leonard Cohen

I’ve been out on the town the last two nights and it has delayed my review. This suits me just fine, because this is a record I don’t put on often enough, and I relished the extra time with it.

Disc 1277 is… Death of a Ladies’ Man

Artist: Leonard Cohen

Year of Release: 1977

What’s up with the Cover? According to the liner notes this picture was taken by “an anonymous roving photographer at a forgotten Polynesian restaurant” On the left is Eva LaPierre (who I don’t know) and Suzanne, the subject of the famous Cohen song of the same name.

How I Came to Know It: I’ve known Leonard Cohen since high school, and this is one of the first albums I purchased when I got my first CD player. I knew some of these songs as poems and was eager to hear them put to music.

How It Stacks Up:  I have 13 of Leonard Cohen’s studio albums and 1 live record as well. Of the 13, I had reserved last place for “Death of a Ladies’ Man” but I ended up liking the record too much. Instead I’ll put it in at #11. This generates a bit of shuffling in the ranking, and since this is my last Cohen review here is the full accounting:

1. Various Positions: 5 stars (reviewed at Disc 58)
2. Songs from a Room: 5 stars (reviewed at Disc 536)
3. Songs: 5 stars (reviewed at Disc 522)
4. The Future: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 895)
5. Recent Songs: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 120)
6. I’m Your Man: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 1245)
7. New Skin for the Old Ceremony: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 139)
8. Songs of Love and Hate: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 7)
9. You Want It Darker: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 937)
10. Popular Problems: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 847)
11. Death of a Ladies’ Man: 3 stars (reviewed right here)
12. Old Ideas: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 898)
13. Ten New Songs: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 1094)

Three five-star albums is an almost impossible achievement, but listen to the records before you tell me I’m wrong.

Ratings: 3 stars but almost 4

“Death of a Ladies’ Man” could have easily been a bloated directionless mess, but Cohen’s talents as a poet and songwriter win through the record’s excess and achieves a strange and unexpected brilliance.

I divide Cohen’s music into two periods. Early Cohen sings quiet introspective songs in a high airy voice. Later Cohen’s vocals become deep and gravelly, and he starts to add in a lot of back up singers and lush production.

“Death of a Ladies’ Man” straddles the border of these two lands. Cohen’s vocals are light, but the production is filled with all kinds of complicated arrangements. These sometimes reminded me of big band swing and sometimes felt like a lot of barroom winos sawing away at a table in the corner. The whole thing has a drunken sway that is, admittedly, an acquired taste.

It doesn’t help that the record has some singularly bad production. On many songs, it sounds like Cohen is singing over the telephone on a bad connection. On the title track there is even a line where he inexplicably fades out, like he is crooking the phone on his shoulder, maybe while he finds a pen or makes a sandwich or something.

It would be hard for most to overcome this to get past this, but Cohen does so and then some. Because despite all the oddness, Cohen is one of the greatest poets in the history of the English language. The world was lucky when he took those poems to the world of music, growing his audience and demonstrating a talent for smithing a tune as well.

This record has a lot of focus on relationships, most of which are not going well. However, the songs have a manic quality, with Cohen infusing the tragedy with his wry sense of humour and a devil-may-care attitude.

On “Paper Thin Hotel” the narrator listens to his lover enjoy a tryst with another man in the room next to him. Faced with the potential to rage with jealousy, Cohen instead recognizes the absurdity of it all:

“The walls of this hotel are paper-thin
Last night I heard you making love to him
The struggle mouth to mouth and limb to limb
The grunt of unity when he came in
I stood there with my ear against the wall
I was not seized by jealousy at all
In fact a burden lifted from my soul
I heard that love was out of my control”

“Don’t Go Home With Your Hard-On” provides some good advice for any drunk coming at an unwelcome hour. The song is filled with horn flourishes and a jubilant quality that captures the stagger of the horny idiot in question.

“Memories” isn’t my favourite track, but I love this one couplet:

“I walked up to the tallest and the blondest girl

I said ‘look, you don’t know me now, but very soon you will.”

Ballsy stuff, but Cohen was a ballsy guy.

Cohen dabbles in country music as well, throwing a bit of yeehaw fiddle into “Fingerprints” and while “Iodine” is more of a jazz number, it has more than a little mosey in the delivery.

The album ends with the title track, a haunting nine-minute dirge about a relationship’s slow collapse. The record overall may feature a fair bit of humour, but there is a darkness underneath it all, and that darkness lays bare and exposed on “Death of a Ladies’ Man.” Cohen ends the song with a cold, nihilistic vision of love:

“It's like our visit to the moon or to that other star
I guess you go for nothing if you really want to go that far.”

“Death of Ladies’ Man” is not a record for pleasant romantic notions and walks on the beach. It’s brand of beauty is of the darker and more troubling kind. It isn’t easy to access this beauty through all those layers of production, but unlike Cohen’s grim final pronouncement, it is worth the effort.

Best tracks: Paper Thin Hotel, I Left a Woman Waiting, Don’t Go Home With Your Hard-On, Death of a Ladies’ Man