CD Odyssey Disc 1012: Sarah Jarosz

This is my third Sarah Jarosz review in the last sixteen albums. Sarah Jarosz is everywhere on the CD Odyssey these days. The only logical conclusion is that the Sarah Jarosz Reign of Terror is upon us! Flee for your lives!

Actually, don’t. Sarah Jarosz is probably very gentle and kind. Her music is certainly beautiful. And besides, I’m now out of Sarah Jarosz albums, so her reign ends here, at least for now.

Disc 1012 is…Build Me Up From Bones

Artist: Sarah Jarosz

Year of Release: 2013

What’s up with the Cover? Sarah Jarosz looks very traditional here, with her buttoned up blouse and piled up hair. She also looks a bit like Aubrey Plaza, if Aubrey Plaza were a folk singer.

How I Came To Know It: I’ve told this story a lot recently (see teaser above) but basically I was investigating a different bluegrass artist (Aoife O’Donovan) and discovered I liked Jarosz even more. I was particularly drawn to her 2016 release, “Undercurrent” and worked backward from there. "Build Me Up From Bones" was the first step in that backward journey.

How It Stacks Up:  I have three Sarah Jarosz albums. I had originally reserved second spot for this album, but upon further review I find it isn’t quite as strong as “Follow Me Down” so I am bumping that album up to second. “Build Me Up From Bones” drops to third.

As this is (quite suddenly) my full Sarah Jarosz collection, here’s a recap:

1. Undercurrent: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 1004)
2. Follow Me Down: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 996)
3. Build Me Up From Bones: 2 stars (reviewed right here)

Ratings: 2 stars but almost 3

The thing that always strikes me first about Sarah Jarosz is her exceptional musicianship, both vocally and on the many instruments she plays (guitar, banjo and – in particular – the octave mandolin). While the songs on “Build Me Up From Bones” aren’t quite as strong as those on the albums that came before and after, that musicianship still carries the day and makes this an enjoyable record.

Once again, Jarosz continues her mix of smooth pop, bluegrass and contemporary folk, working them well together and balancing more traditional sounds with ethereal and atmospheric numbers. Also, there is a little jazz. Sometimes, a little too much jazz, at least for me.

The best of the atmospheric songs is “Mile On the Moon” which is grounded in a simple guitar strum and punctuated with jazzy notes here and there to give it a dreamy quality that meanders through the back doors of your mind.

This approach doesn’t always work on “Build Me Up From Bones.” “Anything Else” feels a bit too much like contemporary easy listening music, lacking the edge it needs to have an emotional impact.

When the songs are stripped down, or even where Jarosz’ octave mandolin is simply higher in the mix as it is on the title track, things worked a lot better for me. Jarosz is an incredible talent on this instrument and I think I could sit and listen to her play scales and be content. The title track is additionally aided by the great vocals of Aoife O’Donovan, the artist who led me to discover Jarosz in the first place.

Another mandolin high point is Jarosz’ cover of Bob Dylan’s “Simple Twist of Fate” where a slow but insistent pluck feels like it is being played on your heartstrings. Not literally of course; that would be painful. With just a lone cello accompanying her, there is plenty of space for her to explore both with her instrument and her voice, and she keeps it tasteful and restrained throughout. It isn’t at the same level as her version of “Ring Them Bells” (on the “Follow Me Down” record) but its close.

Unfortunately, after “Simple Twist of Fate” the last half of the record didn’t grab me the same way. In particular, “The Book of Right On” landed very wrong for me. I think it was supposed to be playful and experimental, but the lyrics felt awkward, and the tune lands on the wrong side of lounge singer. If you are wondering what the wrong side of that is, it’s the jazz side.

The rest of side two is better, and the songs have a nice dreamy quality to them. The musicianship also remains at a very high level, but the songs didn’t have the emotional punch that the first half of the record gave me and on each listen I felt my interest waning near the end.

Overall “Build Me Up From Bones” felt like an album where Jarosz is spreading her artistic wings. This is a good thing, but with that experimentation comes songs that can be hit and miss. Three years later this would lead to great things on “Undercurrent” so I can hardly complain about the journey that led her there.

Best tracks: Mile on the Moon, Build Me Up From Bones, Dark Road, Simple Twist of Fate

CD Odyssey Disc 1011: REM

Before I write this next entry I want to take a moment to bid farewell to Gregg Allman, who died this week at the age of 69.

In one sense I came to the Allman brothers late, only getting into their music in the last few years after Sheila bought me their first two albums.

In another sense I’ve been into them from the very beginning, given what an incredible influence they’ve had on the music I’ve grown up loving. I can hear the echo of their genius in many of the bands I love: Blue Oyster Cult, Tom Petty and Molly Hatchet all borrow from the innovation of the Allman Brothers band.

Gregg’s life was marred by tragedy and in the end he too left the world very early, but as musical legacies go, you couldn’t do much better. RIP Gregg Allman.

Disc 1011 is…Monster

Artist: R.E.M.

Year of Release: 1994

What’s up with the Cover? An out-of-focus bear with a goofy expression on its face. This cover reminds me of that horrible third jersey my beloved Boston Bruins have been forced to wear from time to time, with the giant bear head logo. It looks stupid, and so does this album cover.

How I Came To Know It: My roommate Greg owned this album back when it first came out, so I heard it through him first. I think this CD is one of Sheila’s, although I don’t recall when she bought it.

How It Stacks Up:  We have six R.E.M. albums. With no apologies to the fawning critics over the years, I put “Monster” down near the bottom at number five.

Ratings: 2 stars

Back in the early nineties it felt like everywhere you looked artists were being influenced by the grunge aesthetic. REM’s entry into that canon is “Monster,” which blends their college protest rock sound with grunge. The result is a lot of feedback.

When I say ‘a lot of feedback’, please understand I’m not exaggerating. This album’s guitar sound is so fuzzed out it feels like the melodies have been choked out from not having any room to breathe. “Monster” may succeed in its quest to capture a restless, grinding anger, but halfway through I was ready for a little variation.

The album starts out with one of R.E.M.’s most iconic songs. “What’s the Frequency, Kenneth?” is a powerful song with a guitar effect (in the form of a sort of feedback echo) that is as instantly recognizable as any more traditional guitar riff. The song takes its title from an expression shouted at Dan Rather by a man who was assaulting him. Its power and frustration feels as deranged as those origins would predict.

Other than that, I don’t pay a lot of attention to the lyrics on this record. It is hard to hear Michael Stipe through all the fuzz, and it is more about the grind and power of the guitar than other R.E.M. albums anyway. I will say that “King of Comedy” is supposed to be an ironic title, but not only is the song not funny, it feels kind of hard-hearted and pointless as well. R.E.M. has written plenty of solid protest music, but “King of Comedy” just feels mailed in and obvious.

The record picks up again with the stripped down “Strange Currencies” which is reminiscent of something you might hear from their previous album “Automatic for the People” which – spoiler alert – I like a lot more. The thick guitar is still evident here, but it is tame enough to serve the song rather than wash it out.

“Tongue” is also an intriguing palate cleanser, where the fuzzed out guitar is replaced with a fuzzed out organ and Stipe sings in near-falsetto. “Tongue” gave me the break I needed from the oppressive guitar treatment of the first half of the record. It has an almost sixties Motown quality which was a stretch for R.E.M. but one I think they pull off nicely.

After the more forgettable “Bang and Blame” the boys get back to crunching it out with some white noise guitar on “I Took Your Name” which has the same echoing feedback of “What’s the Frequency, Kenneth?” without managing to be a great song in the process. “What’s the Frequency, Kenneth?” is a delicate bit of alchemy to pull off  and on “I Took Your Name” you just get the feeling the boys went to the well once too often.

The album ends with three more equally heavy and ponderous songs all very similar to each other. All that darkness after “Strange Currencies” and “Tongue” felt like being force-fed a second steak after I’d had my bowl of sorbetto and was waiting for my bill; overfull and with a bad taste in my mouth.

“Monster” is a critical darling, and while there is plenty on it that I like, if I’m being honest outside of the one smash hit most of what I like are the album’s few outlier songs. As a result, despite the record’s promise it is usually a long way down the list when I find myself picking an R.E.M. album I want to listen to.

Best tracks: What’s the Frequency Kenneth?, Strange Currencies, Tongue

CD Odyssey Disc 1010: Kishi Bashi

I am keenly aware that electronic formats are increasingly making my CD collection anachronistic. Why do I persist in this losing battle? One reason is that scanning through my CD collection to pick an album has a visceral quality that a playlist can’t reproduce.

Another reason is I like having an accompanying booklet. Not all CDs include a booklet, but for those that do, here’s a list on how best to make them:

·         The booklet should be an actual booklet, not an accordion fold or poster format.

·         It should include core information like the song list, writing credits and year of release.

·         It may or may not contain interesting photos, artwork, anecdotes or stories, but it should always contain the lyrics.

·         Those lyrics should be printed in a readable font, not some scrawled script approximating the artist’s handwriting.

·         Bonus point if there is a short list of who played what instruments on each song.

Of course, no booklet, no matter how perfectly formatted, can make up for an album full of bad music. Fortunately, this was not a problem on this next album.

Disc 1010 is…Sonderlust

Artist: Kishi Bashi

Year of Release: 2016

What’s up with the Cover? A piece of art by Ssin Kim pretentiously titled “End of the Beginning”. The colour scheme is nice, but this isn’t my preferred art style. I’m a bit more of a fan of realism or romantic art. Not popular in these troubled times, but it’s what I like.

How I Came To Know It: My friend Kate introduced me to Kishi Bashi, I believe by sending me a “first listen” link on NPR. Thanks, Kate!

How It Stacks Up:  This is the only Kishi Bashi album I own, so it can’t really stack up. He has released two other albums, but I’ve given them a listen and I don’t feel sufficiently inspired to pick them up.

Ratings: 4 stars

Kishi Bashi is the stage name of American multi-instrumentalist Kaoru Ishibashi. “Sonderlust” isn’t a word at all, but it sounds like it should be, and on an album as beautiful as this one I’m willing to forgive a little wanton neologism.

“Sonderlust” is well outside of my usual musical comfort zone. It is a mix of dance beats, strings, and electronica, all coalescing around Kishi Bashi’s gorgeous high tenor. The dance beats have a very distinctive disco quality, and Kishi Bashi has managed to update how they are put to use so beautifully that it feels like the genre has been reborn in all its former glory and excess.

The record has the perfect balance between classical musical structures and modern music. On top of it all the pop hooks on these tracks are ridiculously compelling. The fact that this album only made it 153^rd spot on the Billboard top 200 last year is yet another reminder of why I don’t listen to the radio anymore. If radio stations can’t embrace a record this good, then all hope is lost.

The opening track, “m’Lover” is a slow building anthem, complete with mandolin picking (I think), tribal drum beats flourishes of electronic organ, and Kishi Bashi’s urgent vocal. It is a slow-building wave of energy which breaks down mid-way through, only to build up a second time with even more intensity. This is music for driving fast in a convertible. This is music for racing after your lover before they board that plane, and embracing them as some crane-shot spins wildly around you.

After all this emotional draaama, enter track two “Hey, Big Star,” a song with an easy going organ riff and disco beat that makes you want to dance around the room like a total goofball, hopefully while everyone is watching. If you’ve ever seen David Boreanaz’ dance on "Angel" then yes, that kind of dancing, but with better music.

“Say Yeah” features what I’m pretty sure is the sound of an earl eighties video game (maybe “Centipede” or “Space Invaders”). Usually that kind of thing would annoy me, but Kishi Bashi makes it work, energizing the track and then slowly moving it into a slow soul groove reminiscent of Marvin Gaye or Isaac Hayes, but with more beeps.

“Who’d Ya Kill” sounds like Pink Floyd with its slightly unnerving melodic structures. A fuzzy jazz piano riff takes the place of David Gilmour’s guitar; just as atmospheric, but…different. It isn’t my favourite track, but it is solid and worth mentioning just to show the myriad musical forms Kishi Bashi borrows from on this record, twisting each just enough so that it blend into a cohesive collection of songs that together are something altogether original.

The strings on “Honeybody” would be at home in a Mozart concert, and are then combined with a Caribbean rhythm. The result is a delightful little love song about how sometimes it is fun to hang out with your girl and play some board games. At one point he even reveals his inner geek, when he mentions his girl is welcome to bring six-sided or dodecahedron dice. If you call a die “six sided” (and you know who you are) you are a bit of a nerd.

Whether they are confessions of love or nerdom, Kishi Bashi is not afraid to expose his inner self, and this emotional honesty is at the core of “Sonderlust”. Sure he is having fun with groovy beats, but he’s also got something to say. That you can dance along while he does so is just an added bonus.

I listened to this album yesterday while on a long wander in the spring sunshine and it filled me with such a sublime combination of positive energy and relaxation that I think I walked an extra three or four kilometers just to prolong the experience.

This is a record that has been sitting in a rack of about a hundred other ‘recent’ purchases, some of which I haven’t played since I first bought them. Not so, “Sonderlust” which I have regularly been pulling off the shelf lately. If you are looking for some happy pop music, written in a thoughtful manner and performed masterfully, this record is for you. Hell, if you just want to feel happy, this album is for you – no deeper analysis necessary.

Best tracks: m’lover, Hey Big Star, Can’t Let Go Juno, Statues in a Gallery, Flame on Flame (A Slow Dirge), Honeybody

CD Odyssey Disc 1009: U2

Another week is over and I’m looking forward to a relaxing weekend of chillin’ with my girl. Let’s kick that experience off with a music review.

Disc 1009 is…Boy

Artist: U2

Year of Release: 1980

What’s up with the Cover? A boy. While this is appropriate to the album title I am not a big fan of kids and if I did want a kid on an album cover I’d prefer an angry kid, like the kid on the cover of “War” (reviewed back at Disc 176). Yeah, I know he’s the same kid but he looks cooler when he’s angry. This kid looks like he just broke an expensive vase or something and is about to cry and hope mom goes easy on him.

How I Came To Know It: Back in the mists of time I bought a U2 greatest hits package and it encouraged me to go buy more of their earlier studio albums. Some of this really worked out for me, but this wasn’t one of those moments.

How It Stacks Up:  I have seven of U2’s studio albums (spoiler alert: soon to be five). Of those seven, “Boy” wasn’t exactly inspiring. I’ll put it sixth, just ahead of “How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb”.

Ratings: 2 stars

You know how with so many artists, their first album ends up being their best album? This is not one of those moments. “Boy” is U2’s first album, and it is clear they still have a lot to learn.

“Boy” is an album that manages to combine pointless droning sounds with pretention. That’s not an easy combination to manage, but just because they find the sweet spot between the two doesn’t make it enjoyable. The droning is designed to create atmosphere (I think) but it just feels listless. The pretention? I don’t think that’s by design, I just don’t think they can help themselves.

This album is the musical equivalent to that awkward kid who sits in the corner of the party sighing heavily while trying to make eye contact every time you pass him on the way to the kitchen. You know he desperately wants someone to come over and ask him about his internal emotional upheaval but frankly, it just isn’t worth the effort. So you just look away and find your beer as quickly as possible. Frankly, I regret inviting this album into my CD party to begin with.

Even the band’s best weapon, Bono’s voice is either tucked away in the mix or crooning away on songs that aren’t interesting enough to make you appreciate his art. The bass and drums are solid and are the stars of this show, but they are not enough to overcome the Edge’s pedestrian guitar work and the boring song structures.

There is a lot of overdubbing and echo effects throughout the record, and you can tell the band is trying to create a multilayered tapestry of sound. The production is actually effective at doing this, and I appreciated how much they could squeeze into these songs and not make them sound busy. Unfortunately, it was like a tapestry without a focal point, where a song would cycle around a bit and then fade into the next one, each less memorable than the last.

The most memorable song is the album’s one hit “I Will Follow,” which has what is a passable pop hook. However, I’ve never cared for “I Will Follow” and having it removed from its fellow hits puts too much pressure on it to carry the rest of the record. Also, the song has some annoying bell ringing in it that is one extra layer of sound they could have done without. Early U2 loves this bell sound, but I don’t care for it, and on “Boy” the songs aren’t good enough for me to ignore it like I usually do.

In fact, many of the songs have some kind of xylophone or bells or some equally monstrous sound making machine played by demented elves in Santa's workshop after they broke into the egg nog cupboard. Every time I hear it I cringe anew.

The best song on the record is “An Cat Dubh” which is carried along by a pretty sweet riff from bassist Adam Clayton. Even this song has some kind of Christmas bell effect that made me grimace with frustration. Also, the Edge’s “solo” on this song is basically him experimenting – poorly – with feedback.

There are occasionally interesting moments on “Boy” and you can hear the nascent sounds of what they would eventually turn into good music, but for the most part this album was a reminder of why I didn’t like U2 when I first heard them. These songs take a long pointless circle before they finally go down the drain, and by the time I got near the end of the second listen I was gritting my teeth.

On my walk home tonight I opted to just enjoy the lovely spring evening without music. I didn’t want to spoil the moment with “Boy” moaning away in my ear.

Not only am I selling this album, I’m selling “How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb” as well. I reviewed that record way back at Disc 106. Back then I was a lot more forgiving as to what stayed in my collection. That’s another album where it feels like U2 is gargling their own atomic bathwater. Well it’s purge night on the CD Odyssey, and I’m throwing out the bathwater and the boy. Good riddance to both.

Best tracks: An Cat Dubh,

CD Odyssey Disc 1008: Seasick Steve

After a bit of an exhausting day I’m looking forward to a quiet night in. Let’s start with a music review, since that’s what we do here.

Disc 1008 is…You Can’t Teach An Old Dog New Tricks

Artist: Seasick Steve

Year of Release: 2011

What’s up with the Cover? I’ll let Seasick Steve tell this one in his own words:

“Twm is a cross Labrador and collie, approximately 12 years old. He was dumped on a motorway in Swansea, South Wales and taken to a dog pound where he chose Claire as his new owner. His name “Twm” comes from the name of the Welsh Happy Highwayman Twm Sion Cati.”

Nice story, Steve, but I’m still a cat person.

How I Came To Know It: I was in the mood to own a bit more Seasick Steve and took a chance on this one without listening to it first. I gotta learn to stop doin’ that but you can’t teach an old… Well, you know.

How It Stacks Up:  I have two Seasick Steve albums. Of the two, I must reluctantly put “You Can’t Teach An Old Dog…” second.

Ratings: 2 stars

Say what you will about this Seasick Steve album, it doesn’t falsely advertise. This record is an old dog doing old tricks. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that, but it didn’t inspire me the way I’d hoped it would.

In Seasick Steve’s case, the old trick is some pretty solid rhythm and blues, punctuated by Steve’s gravelly vocals and solid guitar work. Steve is an accomplished guitar player, and he knows well enough to sit right down in the pocket of a style he really gets. He pumps out rocking blues riffs with enthusiasm, and even works an acoustic from time time, on which he demonstrates a picking technique that is so aggressive that I suspect he has to retune his axe every other song.

That is the good stuff, but when you stick to old tricks you need to perform those old tricks in a spectacular fashion. There is nothing wrong on “You Can’t Teach…” but it doesn’t have the consistent visceral energy of his earlier release “Man From Another Time”. The two ‘dog’ themed songs (the title track and “Back in the Doghouse”) bring out the best in Steve, with thick reverb and dirty power, but the rest of the record falls a little short in terms of grease n’ grit.

There are a couple of interesting songs, particularly “Treasures” and “It’s a Long Long Way” both of which have a folksy troubadour quality to them that made me think of Johnny Cash late in his career. “It’s a Long Long Way” has a pretty picking solo and even a thoughtful opening rumination on the subject of aging:

“You prob’ly won’t take no advice from me

I never took none myself, you see

It’s just when you get older

You’d like to pass some on

But nobody’s listening.”

Not super inspiring, but heartfelt when Steve sings it to you. Unfortunately, this is the high point of the album lyrically as most of it is occupied with variations on “I ain’t gonna change” and “I’m a hobo”. Perfectly good themes, but the songs don’t shine any new light on the topics, and also feature a lot of strained rhymes that don’t do them any favours.

Apart from his fantastic guitar work, the thing that is great about Seasick Steve is how visceral and raw he feels. On “You Can’t Teach…” there are long stretches where he just sounds like a bar band you’d hear at your local. A good bar band for sure, but this isn’t the kind of music I like to sit in a pub and listen to all night. Maybe that last one’s on me.

There is just too much of the same thing here. This sounds a bit hollow considering how much indie folk music I’ve been buying for the past six months. You could argue a lot of that stuff sounds the same too, and you could be right. But at least there either the stories are different or the voices are sweeter, and I’m a sucker for both those things.

There’s nothing terrible about this record, and much to recommend it, but as the CD shelves fill up I’ve got to be a bit more ruthless, and that means this dog is going to have to find another home. Hopefully it’ll find one that is more appreciative.

Best tracks: Treasures, Back in the Dog House, It’s A Long Long Way

CD Odyssey Disc 1007: Paul Ngozi

I’m in the middle of a four day weekend and getting my money’s worth out of every minute of it so far. On Friday I went a little crazy and bought 13 albums, which is a lot even for me. Here’s the list:

• She & Him, “Volume 3”
• Mountain Goats, “Tallahassee”, “The Life of the World to Come,” and “Goths”
• Gillian Welch, “Revival” and “Time (the Revelator)”
• Dawes, “Stories Don’t End”
• The Civil Wars, “Self Titled”
• Nick Drake, “Pink Moon”
• Josh Ritter, “Hello Starling”
• Hem, “Rabbit Songs”
• Shangri-Las” “Best of the Mercury Years”
• Sun Kil Moon “Ghosts of the Great Highway”

I’ll review those as I roll them, but for now you can rest assured that there is still plenty of sailing before the CD Odyssey reaches its Ithaca.

Disc 1007 is…The Ghetto

Artist: Paul Ngozi

Year of Release: 1977

What’s up with the Cover? A blue and white drawing depicting an African ghetto, complete with straw shanties, old boots and bins full of garbage. The disembodied head of Paul Ngozi looks on from the Land of Awkward Photoshopping.

How I Came To Know It: I was in one of my local record stores a couple of years ago and I heard some very cool music being played in the background. I asked the clerk what it was and he told me it was the Ngozi Family. I bought that album that day and loved it, so when I saw another record featuring Paul Ngozi I snapped it up as well.

How It Stacks Up:  I have two Paul Ngozi albums: this one and another where he performs under the name Ngozi Family. Both are awesome, but since this is where I am supposed to stack them up I’ll give the slight edge to “The Ghetto”

Ratings: 5 stars

Paul Ngozi is one of the principal artists of the Zamrock movement, which took place in Zambia in the seventies. A lot of Zamrock didn’t survive because there wasn’t much care taken to preserve the master recordings over the years, but what we do have is pretty awesome.

“The Ghetto” is a mix of African rhythms, crunchy guitar riffs and sixties psychedelic rock, blended to perfection. Guitarist and vocalist Paul Ngozi is at the top of his game, laying down riffs so thick with fuzz and feedback that they practically generate their own gravity. There isn’t anything musically complicated here, just the insistent chugging of Ngozi’s guitar summoning the gods of rock.

At the same time to construct so many solid and amazing rock riffs, each one unique, is a miracle in itself. If these songs don’t make your head bob along in time then there may be something wrong with you. Perhaps your groove is broken? If so, please see a doctor, as a broken groove is no laughing matter.

As you might expect, the production on this record is limited, and I can only imagine what limited resources Ngozi had to record this stuff in his native Zambia. While this would detract from a lesser record, the crunch of songs like “Who Will Know” and “Can’t You Hear Me” is undeniable. The only impact the limited production has on these masterpieces is to make them feel more raw and visceral.

With all the heaviness on the record, Ngozi wisely throws in a few palate cleansers. “Anasoni,” “Bamayo” and “Ulesi Tileke” all have an easy flow, and are given a bit of added jump through the tasteful application of African rhythms. “Bamayo” in particular feels celebratory and relaxed. I have no idea what the song is about, but the tune makes me want to dance at a backyard barbecue while sipping a mint julep. It is just…chill.

Ngozi does more than rock and relaxation, though; this is also music with a message. “In the Ghetto” paints a picture of poverty and despair, and calls on parents to “reduce your drinking” which I found interesting. Not “stop your drinking” but “reduce your drinking” as though he knows a full stop is not a realistic goal for people this badly off.

The album also has religious overtones but never feels preachy. Even on “Suicide” when Ngozi warns “God will punish you,” it feels more like he’s trying to get you to hold on, rather than threatening you with damnation. On “Jesus Christ” Ngozi tells the story of Christ’s crucifixion, reminding us that “Jesus Christ, he was a man of peace” and when he sings “Father forgive them, they don’t know what they’re doing” it feels half like he’s quoting Jesus and half like he’s personally asking God to forgive the Romans.

“The Ghetto” is a record that is loaded with the frustration and aggression of Ngozi’s surroundings but it never descends into despair. Instead, it channels that rage into powerful music and a message of hope and forgiveness. It does all this while rocking as hard and heavy as anything you’ll hear.

Best tracks: all tracks

CD Odyssey Disc 1006: Imelda May

Chris Cornell tragically took his own life Thursday morning at the age of 52. It is still hard to process that he is gone.

I did not start out loving grunge as much as everyone else my age did (I am 46). At the time I was more interested in Celtic folk music. However, my roommate brought a steady stream of grunge into our house throughout the early nineties and I learned to appreciate it.

Of all the bands we listened to, Soundgarden was the first one that appealed to me. With their groovy guitar licks and driving energy, their music energized my soul and Cornell’s voice was one of rock and roll’s all-time greats. Back in the early nineties I was dirt poor, and songs like “Outshined” and “Hunger Strike” spoke deeply to me, giving a voice to the rage and frustration that seethed during some of my blacker days. It ended up being just as therapeutic as the upbeat life-affirming qualities of Celtic folk music.

After I moved out, I ended up missing all those Soundgarden albums, and eventually bought them all – and the ones that were released later besides. When Audioslave came along, I bought those too.

RIP, Chris Cornell. I won’t speculate on what led you to do what you did – there’ll be plenty of people doing that in coming weeks. Instead, I’ll thank you for all the great music, and all the lives you’ve changed through it. You may be gone but your memory will never be outshined.

Disc 1006 is…Life.Love.Flesh.Blood

Artist: Imelda May

Year of Release: 2017

What’s up with the Cover? Herein lies a tale, as gone are Imelda May’s delightful rockabilly style and upswept neo-pompadour hair style. In its place we have a stripped down May, with jet black hair, non-descript outfit and a pensive look on her face.

She’s still alluring as all get-out, but I admit I miss the wild woman look.

How I Came To Know It: I love Imelda May so when I saw she put out a new album I bought it after only hearing two tracks. Some people just get a pass.

How It Stacks Up:  I have four Imelda May albums. I like them all but competition is tight, and I must regretfully put “Life.Love.Flesh.Blood” and its annoying punctuation in fourth place.

Ratings: 3 stars

“Life.Love.Flesh.Blood” doesn’t just feature a fresh haircut for Imelda May, it also represents a shift in her music. Her rockabilly roots are no longer showing, replaced with an interesting mix of pop and lounge-style crooners. It is still a good record, but I missed the wild and rambunctious aesthetic of her earlier records.

The album’s first track is also its best. “Call Me” is a perfect mix of pop and lounge, and May’s voice has never been sweeter as she reaches out tenderly but insistently to a wayward lover. It is a good thing I don’t have May’s number, because I’d be calling her every time this song came on.

May wrote or co-wrote all the songs on the album, and her ability to make a new song sound timeless is as brilliant as ever. “Black Tears” sounds like that last slow song at the end of a 1940s USO dance, where the ladies picked their favourite sailors, crossed their wrists behind their necks and let the music sway their hips just this side of respectable.

This playful sexuality has always been part of Imelda May’s music, but on “Life.Love.Flesh.Blood” she trades the more overt flirtation of earlier records for a more subtle and sultry delivery. The songs are slow seductions, best played in low light.

Lyrically there isn’t anything special going on here, but May delivers the lines with a believability and easy power that helps them punch above their weight.

Her rockabilly roots return briefly on “Bad Habit” where May playfully tells the story of a spendthrift who can’t resist a pair of Louboutins or anything else on sale for that matter. She goes to the doctor to see if she has a problem, but he only replies “there’s nothing wrong with you but your bank account!” Nice.

The album features guest appearances by guitarist Jeff Beck on “Black Tears” and keyboardist Jools Holland on “When It’s My Time” and both artists do a stellar job of playing second fiddle to May. Pompadour or not, she is a frontwoman who cannot be ignored.

The album feels a little too mainstream in places, and songs like “Leave Me Lonely” are good, but sound like the kind of power pop I would hear on the radio (if I ever listened to the radio). I found myself wondering if May was trying for something with a broader appeal. I can’t judge her for that; she’s long been under-appreciated, and has the talent and charisma that should have made her an international star a long time before now.

The record’s final track is “The Girl I Used To Be” which is a stunner of a folk song dressed up in pop clothing. While the song is about May’s childhood and upbringing, it also seems to express an affirmation that while her musical style has shifted a little, she is still very much in touch with her earlier work.

“Life.Love.Flesh.Blood” has less obvious standouts than May’s previous albums, but it is a nice slow burn. I enjoyed it more and more on each listen, appreciating the subtlety of these songs as they crept up on me. It is a good sign for the years to come.

Best tracks: Call Me, Black Tears, Bad Habit, The Girl I Used To Be

CD Odyssey Disc 1005: Emmylou Harris

I’m feeling restless today, but I think I’m just eager for a long weekend.

Disc 1005 is…The Ballad of Sally Rose

Artist: Emmylou Harris

Year of Release: 1985

What’s up with the Cover? The tyrannical run of Giant Head covers has ended at five, replaced with this…tiny head cover. This cover features the head of Emmylou Harris, which is lovely at any size, and a tasteful script and floral border. The whole thing looks rather timeless.

Except, of course for the advertisement of “A DIGITAL RECORDING” at the top. On a CD that came out in 1985, this is not a good sign. More on this later.

How I Came To Know It: I recently went through Emmylou Harris’ back catalogue to see if any I didn’t have struck my fancy. Three did, and the other two were both recently reviewed (“Cowgirl’s Prayer” reviewed back at Disc 979, and “Bluebird” reviewed back at Disc 973). "The Ballad of Sally Rose" is the third.

How It Stacks Up:  I am still missing one Emmylou Harris album I want (1990’s “Brand New Dance”). Even without that album I have fourteen of Emmylou’s albums. Of those fourteen, I’m going to bump “Roses in the Snow” down yet another spot to make room for “the Ballad of Sally Rose” at #9.

Ratings: 3 stars

It’s not every day you get a country music concept album but I guess if you’re Emmylou Harris you’ve done everything else, so why not?

On “The Ballad of Sally Rose” Emmylou makes succeeds in making this strange combination work. The album tells the tale of titular songstress Sally Rose who meets her musical soul mate, falls in love and then drifts away from him as he returns to his rakish ways. Even as she translates the inspiration he provided into a music career of her own, she misses him and intends to reconcile, only to find he has died in a car accident. It’s a fairly obvious story (some say is a loose allegory of Harris’ relationship with Gram Parsons) but Emmylou makes it work.

The story is aided by songs that hold together well, and naturally flow into one another. The eighties were responsible for a lot of country music disasters, but Harris manages to navigate through some of the more artificial aspects of eighties production for the most part unscathed. She even makes it work for her, creating an orchestral feel in contrast to a lot of her more stripped down early work.

One of the reasons the songs are so cohesive is all of them are composed by both Emmylou Harris and then-husband Paul Kennerley (who if this album is about Gram Parsons deserves extra credit for letting art come before ego). Emmylou will often write one or two songs per album and they are always great, leaving me wishing she composed more. With “The Ballad of Sally Rose” I finally get that wish fulfilled.

“Woman Walk the Line” is my favourite track, powerful and perfect, telling the story of a woman being wronged and willing to hit the bars and let herself be tempted by strange men, but still in control of her desires enough to go home alone:

“Tonight I wanna do some drinkin’

I came to listen to the band

Yes I’m as good as what you’re thinkin’

But I don’t wanna hold your hand

And I know I’m lookin’ lonely

But there’s nothin’ here I wanna find

It’s just the way of a woman

When she goes out to walk the line.”

Harris sets it up she makes it clear that she knows how to walk up to the line and not cross it, showing up her partner’s weakness all the more by comparison.  The song is further aided by a majestic two-note guitar flourish that punctuates Sally Rose’s pride. It feels like Neil Diamond dropped by the studio, strummed a few notes to jazz the place up and then left before he drowned the place in too much schmaltz. Of course, that didn't happen. For one thing, Neil Diamond can never have too much schmaltz - his capacity is limitless. For another he wasn't involved on this record.

But I digress...

The album is also aided by Emmylou’s incredible vocals, her signature quaver a little back in the mix at times because of all the business in the production, but forcing itself to the front when called for, such as on the opening track.

Unfortunately hearing Emmylou (and her great songs) is not made easier by the aforementioned DIGITAL RECORDING advertised on the cover. This album was released in 1985 when albums were still made with records and tapes in mind, and CD technology was a distant third. That is very evident here, with song volumes that sounded muddy and distant.

No matter how much I turned it up it still sounded like I was listening to it through the wall. Only unlike most music you hear through a wall (like from a party going on in the suite next door at three in the morning) I wanted to hear more of it, not less. However, I could tell from the production values that if I turned it up any further it would still sound dull and distant, only louder.

This was a major detraction from what is otherwise a solid record, with thoughtful compositions that successfully marries eighties country sensibilities with old school bluegrass and vocal virtuosity. This is a largely forgotten gem in Emmylou’s discography that deserves more love than it gets in the modern era.

Best tracks: The Ballad of Sally Rose, Rhythm Guitar, Woman Walk the Line, Timberline, White Line, Sweet Chariot

CD Odyssey Disc 1004: Sarah Jarosz

This next review is my second Sarah Jarosz review in just eight albums. Good thing I like her music.

Disc 1004 is…Undercurrent

Artist: Sarah Jarosz

Year of Release: 2016

What’s up with the Cover? Holy crap – it is the fifth Giant Head cover in a row. While the Giant Head theme has provided some variation (Alice Cooper went with just eyes, and here, Jarosz’s Giant Head is framed to the right) there is no denying a Giant Head conspiracy is upon us.

Fortunately, Jarosz’s Giant Head is a lot more pleasant to look at than Alice Cooper’s, even when it is obscured by hair.

How I Came To Know It: I just told the tale of how I discovered Jarosz when I reviewed another one of her albums (“Follow Me Down”) back at Disc 996 so go check that out for the details. The short version is I discovered her through another bluegrass artist, Aoife O’Donovan.

How It Stacks Up:  I have three Sarah Jarosz albums, and while they are all new to me, “Undercurrent” is my early favourite so I’m ranking it at #1. Sometimes you just gotta take a stand.

Ratings: 4 stars

“Undercurrent” is Jarosz’s most recent album and easily her best to date, showing her growth as a songwriter, singer and instrumentalist. There is a maturity in this record that reveals Jarosz’s old soul, despite her being only 25 years old.

While Jarosz’s traditional training is evident throughout the record, “Undercurrent” takes the flourishes of jazz, pop and blues I noted on 2011’s “Follow Me Down” and better integrate the different styles into something that is unique to her. She reminds me favourably of Lera Lynn, with a bit of Sarah McLachlan pop and Heather Masse folk thrown in.

Artists often gain confidence in their singing after a few albums, and that is the case here, with Jarosz maintaining a lovely sweet tone, sometimes breathy and sometimes bright, depending on what the song calls for, without ever feeling like she has to belt it out or over-sing to make her point.

The record opens with “Early Morning Light,” a song featuring some sublime guitar picking from Jarosz. Whether playing guitar, octave mandolin or banjo, Jarosz has a style that is rich and attention-grabbing. She serves the song first and foremost, but the skill she displays is impossible not to notice, with a mix of controlled energy and easy flow. While I first fell in love with her mastery of the octave mandolin, on “Follow Me Down” it is her guitar work on “Undercurrent” that grabbed my attention. On “Take Me Back” she manages to capture that elusive big sound that approaches Mark Knopfler in both style and delivery, while never being derivative of his work.

Jarosz’ songwriting is also top-notch on “Undercurrent” capturing the nuance and heartache of relationships at the crossroads on “Early Morning Light” and “Still Life” with an honest confusion about where to turn, and the wisdom to know that is a normal state of being in these moments.

“House of Mercy” reminded me of mid-career Bob Dylan, and I can see why she features Dylan covers on her earlier albums. On “Undercurrent” she spreads her wings and writes her own Dylan-type songs instead, again without feeling derivative. “Back of My Mind” sounds like Sarah McLachlan. In this case maybe a bit too much, but the song is so good I forgive it all.

The only slight misstep for me is “Green Lights” but my issue here is the production, which is a bit too lush and takes away from Jarosz’s vocals and mandolin playing. It is a minor quibble on a pretty amazing record.

The album ends with “Jacqueline”, a haunting track inspired by Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. I’m not much of a fan of the whole JFK story. I grew weary of the idolization of what was a pretty below average president many years ago and I’ve never understood the fascination with Jacquie O. either. However, Jarosz draws out the vulnerability of the first lady so well I not only sympathize with her, I felt like I was seeing her for the first time, through the power of the song. Pretty impressive, given that Jarosz was only three years old when Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis died.

Jarosz has gotten better and better with every record she has released, and “Undercurrent” represents yet another high water mark in her development. This is a record that has me excited for what she’ll do next.

Best tracks: Early Morning Light, Everything to Hide, Comin’ Undone, Take Another Turn, Lost Dog, Take Me Back, Jacqueline

CD Odyssey Disc 1003: Alice Cooper

For those who have been waiting to discover which artist I have the most albums by, it is time for the reveal – it’s Alice Cooper.

I’ve been a fan of Alice Cooper since the tender age of five, and while this next album came out when I was 35, time has not reduced my zeal for his music - then or now.

Disc 1003 is…Dirty Diamonds

Artist: Alice Cooper

Year of Release: 2005

What’s up with the Cover? This is now the fourth Giant Head cover in a row. On this cover, Alice Cooper’s head is so large that only the eyes show up. Also, a really large and hard to read font gets in the way. Are those diamonds in your eyes, Alice, or are you just glad to see me?

How I Came To Know It: “Dirty Diamonds” came out around the time I was rediscovering the joy of Alice Cooper after losing track with his new material in the late nineties and early oughts. I believe I bought this one when it came out, but my memory is hazy.

How It Stacks Up:  I have all 26 of Alice Cooper’s studio albums, and once even had a weird early import of live and rare tracks (“Science Fiction”) before I parted company with it. “Dirty Diamonds” holds its own well in that large company, coming in at #13.

Unless Cooper releases a new album (something he hasn’t done since 2011) this will be my last review of him. Here’s the full recap of how everything stacked up at the final tally:

1. Billion Dollar Babies: 5 stars (reviewed at Disc 228)
2. Love it to Death: 5 stars (reviewed at Disc 604)
3. From the Inside: 5 stars (reviewed at Disc 99)
4. Welcome To My Nightmare: 5 stars (reviewed at Disc 449)
5. Killer: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 429)
6. Muscle of Love: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 357)
7. Alice Cooper Goes to Hell: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 447)
8. Da Da: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 18)
9. School’s Out: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 406)
10. Lace and Whiskey: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 180)
11. The Last Temptation: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 710)
12. Dragontown: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 950)
13. Dirty Diamonds: 3 stars (reviewed right here)
14. Along Came a Spider: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 164)
15. Zipper Catches Skin: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 355)
16. Flush the Fashion: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 264)
17. Special Forces: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 354)
18. Constrictor: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 89)
19. Raise Your Fist and Yell: 2 stars (reviewed at Disc 286)
20. Easy Action: 2 stars (reviewed at Disc 444)
21. Pretties for You: 2 stars (reviewed at Disc 152)
22. Hey Stoopid: 2 stars (reviewed at Disc 345)
23. Trash: 2 stars (reviewed at Disc 343)
24. Welcome 2 My Nightmare: 2 stars (reviewed at Disc 956)
25. Brutal Planet: 2 stars (reviewed at Disc 833)
26. The Eyes of Alice Cooper: 2 stars (reviewed at Disc 439)
27. Science Fiction: 1 star (reviewed at Disc 661)

Ratings: 3 stars

After starting out the decade with three heavy metal albums, in 2005 Alice Cooper returned to his roots on “Dirty Diamonds”; catchy but heavy rock riffs with clever lyrics designed to both shock and amuse.

It is clear that the return agreed with Cooper, who delivers a tight little album that borrows from pop, boogie woogie, blues, metal and even rap, constructing songs that are both catchy and edgy. Like he did with the original Alice Cooper Band, Cooper shares songwriting duties with his band-mates and the collaborative approach does wonders to rejuvenate his sound, while still remaining Alice Cooper at the core.

All that praise aside, I admit it took a while for this album to grow on me. The preceding records (“Brutal Planet”, “Dragontown” and “The Eyes of Alice Cooper”) put my ear in a very heavy mood, and this record can seem almost flippant in comparison. However, after a few listens you tune in to what Cooper is trying to do, as he mixes all the lessons he learned from eighties metal and even dalliances with hair and nu metal, and bend those genres to his will.

Like most acts that endure as long as he has, Cooper knows how to adapt. He is a chameleon, able to connect with the sound of the time, without ever losing his inner lizard. After a lot of angry records preceding it, Cooper seems almost giddy here as he sings about the perils of pretty girls, fame and riches, and cross-dressing truck drivers. It is delightfully over the top, sometimes too much so, but if anyone can shamelessly stand in the glare of too much kitsch and make it work, it's Cooper.

The album launches with “Woman of Mass Distraction” a pelvic thrust of a song, dirty guitar riffs and ominous beats growing into a chorus that is basically a strained pun that Cooper makes work. It is corny and catchy in equal measure.

Other standouts include the neo-nu metal “Dirty Diamonds” a track about the empty lives of the rich and famous. Cooper is one of the most down to earth rock gods that currently walk the earth, and his mockery of the wealthy manages to ring true where in lesser hands it could have come off as hypocritical.

“Sunset Babies (All Got Rabies)” is a song about bad girls walking the strip looking for trouble, and it the way Cooper sings “I don’t know if it’s safe to pet one” makes it clear he’d like to find out. This song also has a sweet little guitar solo that is restrained and well-placed.

My favourite track on the record is “The Saga of Jesse Jane” the tale of a cross-dressing trucker who runs afoul of some rednecks at a truck stop and ends up murdering the lot of them. Cooper is a natural storyteller, drawing you in instantly with this opening:

“I’m in jail in a Texas town

In my sister’s wedding gown

I drive a truck all night long

Listening to Judy Garland songs.”

The song is done in a haunting murder ballad style that would make the Handsome Family proud, as Cooper exchanges his usual raspy vocals for something halfway between Nick Cave and young Elvis.

The album ends with “Stand Up” featuring rapper Xzibit, but even that awkward crossover with rap is kind of fun.

Cooper’s joy in making this album is clear, and years later “Woman of Mass Distraction” and “Dirty Diamonds” are both common songs in his concert setlists, where many other albums from this era are completely ignored. As a devoted fan, I always wish Cooper would pull something off other records from around this time, but there is no denying that it would be hard to replace some of the great material available on “Dirty Diamonds.”

Best tracks: Woman of Mass Distraction, Dirty Diamonds, The Saga of Jesse Jane, Sunset Babies (All Got Rabies)