Reflections After The Clientele

"I Never saw it as a career, to be honest. I still am a believer that pop and rock and roll music can be art." - Alasdair MacLean, leader of The Clientele, in conversation with WFUV producer Andrew Hirshman, November 9th, 2009.

On their first album, Suburban Light, The Clientele almost seemed like a band designed to be fetishized, with their hazy but musically literate take on sixties psych-pop (via Felt and Luna) along with their innate British melancholy. Essentially a set of demos swathed in reverb, the album was also a mere prototype of the sounds Alasdair MacLean heard in his head. "We were just waiting to get in a proper studio and have strings, brass, choirs - Phil Spector crossed with Martin Hannett production," MacLean recalled on the Merge Records website earlier this year. "At the time (2000), every engineer wanted to make every band sound like Radiohead, which just broke everyone's heart. We couldn't get a warm sound anywhere we went in those days."

And so it came to pass: despite a further 10 year trajectory and four increasingly accomplished albums, there are those who hold Suburban Light as the peak of The Clientele's discography. While I love it, I can't agree. Similarly to the debut by The Smiths, I hear a band well on its way but not quite there. In both cases, the production doesn't always do justice to some magnificent songs and both Morrissey and MacLean indulged early on in some ill-advised falsetto. Perhaps the struggle towards mastery, rather than its achievement, is more attractive to a certain kind of listener. My opinion may put me in the minority (wouldn't be the first time) but even with the devotion of those early fans and hints of an expanding impact in the U.S., a shift in MacLean's songwriting - and maybe economic issues - led the band to go on "indefinite hiatus" in 2011.

Now with Merge announcing a deluxe reissue of Suburban Light, The Clientele made a rare appearance at The Bell House last Friday night. It wasn't really their show, however, as the line-up was put together by the Chickfactor zine to celebrate their 22nd birthday. This meant that there were three preliminary acts to get through before MacLean and his cohort took the stage. First up were The Saturday People, who haven't released anything since 2003 and may not have rehearsed since then, either. I don't want to be unkind, so I'll say no more. Next was Barbara Manning, who at one time in her 30 year career headed up SF Seals and Go-Luckys, and who now teaches high school in California. Here she performed solo, and while her banter and stage-presence were charming, the lack of a band and the fact that her guitar was often out of tune, caused me and my friend to once again decamp for the bar.

Talk and bourbon led us to return perhaps later than we should have and we found Versus in the middle of a song. Unlike the first two acts, this veteran band - active (mostly) since 1992 - came ready to play. Richard Balyut wielded his Gibson SG with authority and interlocked nicely with his brother James's Fender Jazzmaster. Fontaine Toups, who alternated vocals with Richard, often played near the middle of the neck of her bass, conjuring up a warm tone. The third Balyut brother, Edward, held it down on the drums, and they played a number of new songs. While the new material was in no way "confounding" (as Richard said), it was convincing and seemed to indicate that Versus is committed to being around for a while. While they were never a necessity in my life, they were always a welcome presence and I'm glad to see them back. Fans should be ecstatic.

The Clientele, however, are one of those necessary bands. I've not had fewer than three of their albums on my iPod for as long as I can remember. Like Nick Drake, they create an entire world through their songs and sound, and one that touches me deeply. They've had a few line-up shuffles over the years, so in a sense this was just a version of The Clientele, a return to a trio format they haven't used since 2005. But this was in no way a pick up band - bassist James Hornsey and drummer Mark Keen have been on the ride with MacLean since at or near the beginning - and as soon as MacLean began finger-picking a shimmering melody and singing in his warm tenor, a new world was created as if by magic. When Hornsey's liquid bass entered, joined by the metronomic soft ticking of Keen's high-hat and snare, that world was complete. Their faces were studies in concentration and absorption and served to bring us more deeply into their universe.

MacLean has been busy these last few years with Amor De Dias, his wonderful Spanish/Brazilian-influenced collaboration with Lupe Núñez-Fernándz of Pipas, and his concentration on nylon-string classical guitar in that band has honed his playing to a fine point. He played complex arpeggios and figures with a casual flair, barely looking at his instrument. The one extended solo he played (in E.M.P.T.Y) had a barbed tone and a cogent structure that had the crowd cheering. The songs, mostly from Suburban Light, The Violet Hour (2003) and Strange Geometry (2005), sounded better than ever, even with the occasional shaky moment, as when MacLean's guitar became unplugged (twice!) during Since K Got Over Me. The song is such a fantastic confection of sorrows that the audience barely registered the glitch. I'm fairly certain the only later song was Here Comes The Phantom, which MacLean told us, was only added by special request. Much appreciation to whoever did so, as it is one of my favorites.

Almost 90 minutes went by as if in a dream, which made it easy to almost ignore some of the odd things going on in the audience, including the antics of a young woman more interested in pouting for portraits right in front of the stage than in communing with the music. When The Clientele left, they were quickly brought back by our applause for an encore. "How about a couple more from Suburban Light?" MacLean asked to rapturous applause. Other than that, MacLean had spoken rarely, except to say "thank you," and at one point mentioned that he wasn't saying much because he was so "overwhelmed" by our response - I think it was a special night for them as well.

If you're new to this band, sign on to my Spotify playlist, which compiles some of my favorite songs by them. They're one of the finest groups of the last 20 years and deserve a retrospective. But the story of The Clientele may not be over. They recently recorded a couple of new songs for Merge's 25th Anniversary subscription series which is a hopeful sign in itself. Perhaps that, coupled with the reception they received at The Bell House and the obvious chemistry shared by MacLean, Hornsey and Keen will lead to a new period of activity for them. I would welcome that and I think even those Suburban Light purists would agree.

Bang-Up World Premieres

Shara Worden (center) and the BOAC All Stars

Whenever I hear world-premiere performances - which almost can't be often enough - my first hope is that something new and beautiful will be introduced to the world. My second hope is that there will be more performances of the work(s). In the case of Bang On A Can's recent performance at the Ecstatic Music Festival, which featured three new works from their People's Commissioning Fund, I will be very surprised if there isn't a clamor from other new music ensembles to get their hands on at least one or two of these pieces.
First up at Merkin Hall, however, was an older piece, Lick, composed by BOAC co-founder Julia Wolfe. Its punky energy, big block chords and squealing soprano sax warmed up both the audience and the Bang On A Can All Stars. Reed player Ken Thomson's feet barely touched the ground during the performance. When the applause died down, WNYC's John Schaefer introduced Alvin Lucier, whose piece Firewood was the first of the evening's new works, which were all based on the theme of field recordings. I'm not sure if Lucier has read David Rothenberg's wonderful Bug Music, but he is already living it: The composition was inspired by the trails of insects under the bark of a piece of word - a field recording of a very different kind!

The meandering trail of the bugs is represented in sound by the cello, guitar and bass sweeping up and down the scale while interacting with pulses and tones from the clarinet, piano and vibraphone. The effect is of a sustained tone, inexorable and intense, with rhythmic beats occurring when the harmonies vibrated together. Schaefer pointed out beforehand that the piece did not contain any of Lucier's signature electronics. Lucier responded that he only used them when necessary "and after 50 years of composing electronic music, that's still my attitude." In any case, those vibrations were a whole new kind of synthesis. At just over six minutes, Firewood induced a state of concentration that was almost palpable in both players and listeners alike.

"Richard Reed Parry," I said to my friend, "That sounds familiar." "He's a member of Arcade Fire." "Oh, right," I mumbled, preparing to rid my mind of all the negative associations I have with that band. I'm not a fan, but that's not something I wanted to hold against Parry, so I listened with open ears as the musicians began his entry, The Brief And Neverending Blur.

Speaking of ears, those of the All Stars were occupied by stethoscopes, which were pressed against their chests so they could sync their individual playing with their own heartbeats. This was a nice, if slight, bit of theater that the musicians seemed to embrace, although its effect on the performance was hard to gauge. In any case, Parry's piece was lovely and wistful, evoking the music of Satie and the absorbing melancholy of watching rain stream down a window. Appearing in the background were the wobbly sounds of a dictaphone recording of Parry's piano music, which was left in an unheated shed in Canada for the better part of a year. John Cage would have approved of both the element of chance and the witty approach to the "field recordings" theme. When it comes to Parry's extra-Arcadian exploits, I say "more please."

The last of the premieres was Holographic by Daniel Wohl, composer of last year's Corps Exquis, which was on many "best-of" lists including my own. Part of his gift is alchemical, combining instruments - both acoustic and electronic - to create new and wondrous sounds. For Holographic, he "processed and stacked" recordings of instruments and vocals, in order to create an aural double image when accompanying the live performance of the musicians. The end result is beguiling and seductive, like fantasies projected on smoke, but not insubstantial. There is real melodic invention and compositional development in Holographic and I'm sure it will reveal even more delights upon further listening. It also ended with a satisfying thump, signaling the completion of the first half of the concert.

After a brief intermission, we returned for a performance of David Lang's Death Speaks, in an expanded arrangement for soprano with a sextet instead of the original trio. Completed in 2012, the half hour piece takes as its text various lines from Schubert songs where death himself speaks to the audience or another character in the song. The other stream of inspiration Lang drew on was the intimacy of "indie pop" as performed in small spaces, the way Schubert lieder were once heard. As in the original performances (and the 2013 recording) the vocalist was Shara Worden, whose ubiquity at the intersection of contemporary classical and indie rock can hardly be overstated. She is much admired for her crystalline voice whether performing her own music under the name My Brightest Diamond or collaborating with a host of composers.

I admit finding Worden and her cult just a bit precious, but she sang with deep engagement, flawlessly unspooling Lang's tear-stained libretto as the band played hypnotic, unresolved arpeggios. While I would have liked a little more articulation in the words, Worden has clearly taken ownership of this piece. Lang's incorporation of the additional instruments was very well conceived, especially the way the percussion linked up to the piano. The sound world occupied by Death Speaks seems closer to John Dowland than Schubert, but since Dowland nearly invented the melancholy pop song that only seems fitting.

It had been a demanding night, so I welcomed the chance to revisit Death Speaks and the other fascinating music we heard on Q2 Music's stream of this remarkable concert. Let's hope these important new compositions find continued life in concert halls as well.

Cogito Igor Sum

Stravinsky in the 1950's

"The piano itself is the center of my musical discoveries. Each note that I write is tried on it, and every relationship of notes is taken apart and heard on it again and again." - Igor Stravinsky

For most listeners, Igor Stravinsky is associated with the brilliant and sometimes exotic orchestral colors of his three French ballets: The Firebird, Petrushka, and The Rite of Spring, all composed before the twentieth century was two decades old. Despite his long life (he died in 1971, at the age of 88) and career, these works cast a long shadow over his oeuvre, and all of music ever since. A good part of this is due to the sheer pleasure of listening to these scores, with their visceral rhythms, indelible melodies and his masterful use of every instrument. There's also the fact that as time went on, Stravinsky's music grew ever more "logical" and abstract, and while still beautiful, presented a glassy surface that sometimes seemed as impenetrable and unknowable as the man himself.

This is one of the fascinating elements of Jenny Lin's expert and engaging new collection of Stravinsky's piano music, compiling as it does music from 1908 to 1967. This gives us an opportunity to take a tour, over the course of about an hour, through his entire sound world as heard through the sonorities of his favorite instrument. This is a sensible idea: as the quote above indicates, all of his compositions started on the piano. In fact, a good many people - musicians and others - first encountered the Rite in a transcription for piano, albeit for four hands.

Not surprisingly, a few of the works Lin includes are transcriptions or arrangements, two by Stravinsky himself, two by his son Soulima, and one by Guido Agosti. It's only in the last, a take on three movements of the Firebird Suite, itself a reduction of the original ballet music, that we feel another composer's hand. Agosti, a student of the great Ferruccio Busoni, somehow manages to make Stravinsky sound slightly old fashioned. However, Agosti does retain a good bit of the outlandish fun of the original and Lin dispatches its many challenges without difficulty. In fact, her playing is flawless throughout, with a dynamic sparkle that keeps you on the edge of your seat.

The album is not ordered chronologically, beginning with the Sonata from 1924, at the dawn of Stravinsky's neo-classical period. There's a slightly collage-like, even schizoid, effect to the way the trills and flourishes of an earlier age interact with his inborn modernism. The second movement feels very intimate in Lin's hands, as if she is channeling the composer while he searches out notes and "relationships of notes." Though the Sonata is one of the lengthier works here, it is still barely 11 minutes long. Concision was never a problem for Stravinsky, but there is no paucity of ideas in the Sonata or elsewhere.

While there is plenty of variety in Lin's selection, all the music is infused with the character of Stravinsky's formidable intellect and gimlet-eyed wit. It's a time-traveling journey that anyone with an interest in modern music should take, with only a few listens needed to expand most people's perceptions of the composer. For example, the lushly melodic Four Etudes from 1908, especially No. 1 in C Minor and No. 3 in E Minor, might surprise a few people with fixed ideas about the man, while the alien jazz of Ragtime (1918) and Piano-Rag-Music (1919) might reinforce those same ideas. "My knowledge of jazz," Stravinsky wrote much later, "was derived exclusively from copies of sheet music, and as I had never actually heard any of the music performed, I borrowed its rhythmic style not as played but as written." It was easier to be a brother from another planet in the days before you could see and hear everything from the comfort of your broadband connection.

There's another new project engineered to help you hear Stravinsky anew. This one is from The Bad Plus, an avant garde jazz trio of long standing, who have taken on the entirety of The Rite of Spring for their latest release (out March 25th). Consisting of bassist Reid Anderson, pianist Ethan Iverson, and drummer David King, the group is known both for their cerebral approach to jazz and for applying their style (with varying success) to covers of popular favorites by the likes of Nirvana, Neil Young, Pink Floyd, and others. Put those two things together, plus the fact that they have adapted works by Ligeti, Babbitt, and even Stravinsky, and you would seem to have a group scientifically designed to execute an adaptation of one of the most popular classical works by one of the most cerebral composers. And, for the most part, there is life in this test tube baby.

The effectiveness of some of the most minimal sections is a reflection of both the ingenuity of The Bad Plus and the durability of Stravinsky's conception. For example, the penultimate track, Evocation of the Ancestors/Ritual Action of the Ancestors, has sections consisting almost entirely of quiet bass and whispered drums yet you always feel located in the heart of the Rite. Throughout the record, the trio fruitfully mines the "composed jazz" territory of Jimmy Giuffre, Kenyon Hopkins and Shorty Rogers, especially during the louder, more hard-driving sections. On the whole, The Bad Plus tackle this seemingly quixotic mission with aplomb.

The album is not an unqualified success, however. The first track features some slightly wishy-washy electronics augmenting the trio and the fact that the sounds never reappear on the album lends them even less conviction. Also, I wouldn't have minded a little more playfulness overall. While I'm not suggesting The Bad Plus go the full Ralph Font, the po-faced atmosphere starts to feel a little suffocating at times. After all, unlike the Stravinsky of 1918, The Bad Plus have actually heard jazz and it wouldn't hurt if they had made that a little more apparent on this accomplished effort.

Note: Quotes taken and photo adapted from Harold C. Schonberg's invaluable book, The Lives of the Great Composers, Third Edition.

Beats & Rhymes, Death & Life

Chris Manak, AKA Peanut Butter Wolf, on the wheels of steel

Fade from black: To the sound of a hot soul bass line we see the interior of a record obsessive's living room. Shelves groaning with vinyl line the walls and there's a party going on. But we're on the outside, looking in through the patio doors, and the music is muffled. The door slides open and someone exits. The music becomes tantalizingly crisp and for a moment it seems that we'll be invited in. Then the door slides shut and [rack focus] we see Chris Manak, aka Peanut Butter Wolf, suave in a pork pie hat, at the wheels of steel. Just as we feel the sting of rejection [smash cut], we're let inside to the ultimate music lover's party. Thus begins Our Vinyl Weighs A Ton, a wonderful new documentary about the history and ethos of Stones Throw, the hip hop/soul/DJ culture/whatever record label.

Directed and produced by Jeff Broadway, the film takes us back to the beginning and thoroughly investigates what has become one of the most influential record labels in recent times, effectively letting us outsiders into the party. "Record Label?" you say, "But isn't the music industry dying?" Yes, the music industry is still in the midst of the great ruction caused by the Internet, but people still have a need for filters. Those with mainstream tastes might look to terrestrial radio, the Grammys, or American Idol and its ilk to find music. Others, like me, will look elsewhere, and great labels like Merge, Sub Pop, and Stones Throw are places we can reliably turn to to find the sounds that satisfy. One thing that makes these imprints so good is that they are the product of individuals with discerning taste and their own point of view. And so it is with Peanut Butter Wolf.

Our Vinyl Weighs A Ton gathers dazzling archival footage, marquee-quality talking heads (Kanye West, Common, Mike D., Talib Kweli, and ?uestlove among them), and a pumping soundtrack to tell the engaging story of how an army brat with a lifelong passion for music rebounded from more than one tragedy to create one of the greatest independent labels.
The film is dedicated to the memory of J-Dilla and Charizma. Charizma was Peanut Butter Wolf's early partner in rhyme who was murdered in an attempted carjacking at the age of 20. The film handles this devastating moment with compassion and sensitivity and we feel the loss as our own. "I just turned off," PBW says in a monotone and his grief feels as fresh as if it were yesterday. Eventually, his bereavement became a spur. Determined to get their music heard, PBW sent it to a number of labels, but was faced with either "no thanks" or no response. In 1996, he started Stone's Throw as a way to release Charizma's musical legacy, which remains in print nearly two decades later.

From there, the movie jumps forward to "Stones Throw Today" and introduces us first to Jonwayne, one of the label's newest signings, as he makes a beat out of household objects, and then to other members of the current roster. "We're all struggling for the same thing," Jonwayne tells us, "which is the advancement of independent music." PBW promulgates this philosophy by continually giving the unknown and even odd a chance to be heard. "I feel like I'm kind of a stomping ground to start people's careers and then they can kinda do what they want after," PBW says. Like all great label heads, he goes with his gut and against the mainstream. This has worked out well for artists like Mayer Hawthorne, who launched an international career on Stones Throw and is now signed to a major label.

When the film picks the story back up in 1998 it smoothly moves through the history, starting with the life-changing connection with Madlib (and his alter ego Quasimoto), whose multifarious talent officially put Stones Throw on the map. Madlib's prodigious ("five albums every two or three weeks") and inventive output awakened the competitive fire of a young Detroit producer: J-Dilla. "Madlib is just killing me," he told ?uestlove, "he's going where I want to go." Bringing Madlib and Dilla together was simply magic. Their record as Jaylib, Champion Sound, is indeed "a hip hop monument," as Common puts it.

Like the sun-kissed early days with Charizma, there was a future shadow hanging over this halcyon period: Dilla's blood disorder, which led to his death at 32 in 2006, just days before the release of Donuts, another masterpiece. Kanye calls Dilla's beats "the greatest drums in hip hop history," beautifully describing what makes them that way while getting a tear in his eye. "When Dilla passed, everything changed," says Madlib, "He was like Coltrane...no one knew what to do."

It would probably not have surprised anyone if Stones Throw had become a casualty itself at this point. While PBW continued to follow his nose, a lot of his choices alienated the hip hop heads and just plain didn't sell. His dark night of the soul also became a dark night of the wallet, but he held on. Bizarrely enough the road back was partly through Folerio, another alter ego created by Chris Manak. Folerio's smarmy image and bedroom electro-soul attracted renewed attention and new blood to the label. One thing followed another and Mayer Hawthorne, along with Dam Funk and Aloe Blacc, led to firmer ground, both musically and financially.

Our Vinyl Weighs A Ton is consistently entertaining and visually appealing, with an eclectic feel that is well matched to its subject. Music fans of all stripes will find it more than gratifying to see Stones Throw get the film it deserves. The movie will be shown tomorrow night at Music Hall Of Williamsburg, along with a panel discussion and performances featuring PBW, Jonwayne, J-Rocc and others. Watch the trailer below and catch it at a screening or festival near you.

Beck's Next Phase

We ran into Paul, my client at Warner Bros. Records, on 6th Avenue and he was almost wide-eyed with excitement. "Are you into Beck?" he asked, "I've really been digging Beck."

I was confused. "You mean Jeff Beck?" It was 1994 and I couldn't imagine what the ex-Yardbirds, jazz-fusoid axe-slinger could've done at this late date to excite my friend so. "No, just BECK - he has this song Loser, you gotta hear it."

Soon enough I was singing "I'm a loser, baby, so why don't you kill me?" along with everyone else. Mellow Gold was a wild ride, and along with the shambolic country-punk-blues of One Foot In The Grave, released that same year, proved the blank-faced kid was no one hit wonder. Even that one-two punch did not quite prepare me for the mastery of Odelay, which took some of the sonic hallmarks of Paul's Boutique (courtesy The Dust Brothers production team) and added heart, soul and tight songwriting.

Mutations came next, which developed some of those singer-songwriter strains that had been bubbling around the edges of Beck's work. Although very different than Odelay, it was also basically a perfect record and filled with variety, from the meta-blues of Nobody's Fault But My Own to the Brazil-psych of Tropicalia. I was not a fan of Midnite Vultures from 1999, not because it was cultural imperialism (as some had it), but simply because it was the first reactionary Beck album. Mutations had been a bit of a left turn and didn't go over so well with the huge fan base he had accumulated by then. Midnite Vultures seems like either an attempt to win the old fans back or to piss the new ones off.

Them came Sea Change, an even less brash album than Mutations, but one that was widely embraced - it seems his audience had finally caught up with him. One of the great break-up records, Sea Change was also Beck's most sonically gorgeous music, thanks in part to the inventive string arrangements of his father, David Campbell. It's an album that has aged well for me, with more variety of texture and mood than I recall finding at the time. Several of the songs, including Lost Cause and Sunday Sun are among the decade's finest. Three years passed before Guero came out. While it was a solid return to his funky sample-a-delic wheelhouse, and had none of the defensiveness of Midnite Vultures, the sense of having arrived at a plateau was unmistakeable.

The Information and Modern Guilt only solidified that impression, with very little in the way of memorable songs. While Beck had worked with name-brand producers before, Modern Guilt was the first time I felt he had subsumed his personality to one, in this case Danger Mouse. Strangely enough, what became his last album for six years has also dated quickly, which should be a caution to other artists seeking the services of Danger Mouse.

Already half tuned out, I found myself thinking of Beck as an artist I had connected with only in the past tense. Sure, I kept in touch, following his forays into production along with the online cover bands, the quixotic Song Reader project, etc., but none of it touched me. The Warholian distance that once seemed so intriguing now just seemed distant. I admit this led to some resistance on my part when it came to listening to the early singles from Morning Phase, which may be the most buzzed about album of 2014. That hype was also an obfuscating factor, but I pride myself on listening with open ears no matter what and I felt I owed it to Beck to give Morning Phase a real chance.

I knew going in that he had reconvened the musicians with whom he had made Sea Change, including his father, and that it would be mining the singer-songwriter side of his music, something he hadn't done since that album. However, others have been busy in that neck of the woods, including the likes of Bon Iver, Iron & Wine, Fleet Foxes, Jonathan Wilson and Father John Misty - some of my favorite artists of the last six years. Would Beck be able to rally and elbow his way into the august company now occupying some of the space he had staked such a claim to 14 years ago?

The answer is an unequivocal "yes." Morning Phase is a triumph from beginning to end, a song cycle characterized by soaring melodies, rich, layered production (by Beck himself), and lyrics that read like an open book but hint at depths of emotion. Themes of renewal (Morning: "It's morning/I've lost all my defenses"), abnegation (Blue Moon: "Cut me down to size/So I can fit inside"), and loneliness (Wave, and elsewhere) strike universal chords but seem to come from a place of wisdom and experience.

Echoes of classic music by the Allman Brothers, Pink Floyd, The Beatles, Bob Dylan, Led Zeppelin, David Crosby, and others serve as guideposts for the listener, and likely for Beck himself, without ever sounding slavish. As With Sea Change, Morning Phase reveals more variety with each listen, unfurling colors the way petals unfold in a time lapse of a blossoming flower. At first, I heard what seemed an uninterrupted haze of acoustic guitars, strings and gentle percussion, but soon began to crave the individual songs and their details. The warm ostinato of Heart Like A Drum, the brooding rhythm of Unforgiven, the perfect Kenny Buttrey drums of Country Down, and finally the apotheosis of Waking Light, which builds to an explosive (in this context) Leslie-fied guitar solo and ends the album with a solid crunch that is both startling and satisfying.

Morning Phase already feels like an old friend, and the fact that it signals the return of Beck at his best makes it even more meaningful. My message to any other Beck apostates out there is "Are you into Beck? I've really been digging Beck."

A Chilly Welcome From Hospitality

Amber Papini in NYC

Amber Papini could probably order coffee with a cadence that would stick in your head for days. Though the singer from Hospitality is from Kansas City, MO, she has an unusual relationship to vowels and her consonants often have a crisp anglophonic sound. The end result is that the hooks in the band's perfectly composed songs have captivating little hooks of their own, but never in a self-consciously quirky way. She's never trying to be different - she just is. While she's a very talented musician, probably the best thing that could have happened to her was hooking up with Nathan Michel, a Berklee grad with a degree in electronic music (he's "obsessed with Stravinsky," apparently), whose training may help lend a compositional rigor to Hospitality's sound.

Their charming debut album from 2012 featured a highly detailed (some have called it Baroque) production that seems to not have been entirely of their choosing, as hinted at by the rawer sounds of The Drift and Monkey, two songs released later that year. Also, some of songs dated back to as far as 2007, before family issues sidelined Papini's career for a couple of years, so their concerns might not have been as up to the minute as they sounded, at least in relation to the lives of Papini and Michel and their bass-playing compatriot Brian Betancourt.

So now we have the follow-up, called Trouble, produced by Michel with Matt Boynton, and sounding like a sleeker take on the sound of The Drift. Nightingale opens the album with big chords and a tough riff from Papini's guitar that alternates with delicate cello-infused verses. The lyrics, rather than sounding like a plot-line from Girls (nothing wrong with that), delve poetically into that dark terrain where childhood tales mingle with adult realities. This theme is picked up in Going Out, with it's dress-up imagery ("Ruffled dresses and parasols") leading to our heroine walking home alone as the "rain rolls down/like an empty sound." The mood is leavened by some nifty handclaps and percussion as the song plays out. Betancourt's limber, melodic bass proves itself essential here, as it does throughout the album.

While Trouble still has some of the enveloping warmth of the first album, there's an intriguing chill at its core, like an icy stare from a friend you inadvertently offended. Even for all that, Hospitality's pop instincts are even more well-honed. Rockets And Jets toys with synth-pop and becomes more of a companion to my life with each listen. Like all great songs, you miss it when it ends. The bleakest moments on the album come in Last Words, also the longest track and one of two Papini co-wrote with Michel. "I took a boat to Eden," she sings in the second verse, "The priest was there to greet me on the sand/He led me to a gate/You enter once but never leave again/These brackish waves/Surround me and I have no exit." Pulling that blanket tighter yet?

Last Words leads into the stunning melancholy of Sunship, the other co-write, which has the largest ensemble on the record as the core trio is joined by trumpet, cello and flute. Like five other songs on Trouble, Papini calls on water, either from the sky or in the sea, in her evocative lyrics. These ancient tropes shore up the classicism of Hospitality's approach as, like Spoon, another great band on Merge Records, they seek not to reinvent the canon but to add to it. Also like Spoon, their 10 song album is concise but never feels slight. The last song, Call Me After, features Papini solo and feels entirely complete. If she ever does find herself alone - as her characters do in four of the songs on Trouble - you get the distinct idea she'll be fine. And there's your comfort, cold though it may be.

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I took my daughter and her friend, both ninth graders, to see Hospitality at The Greene Space. As we waited to enter, a woman (who turned out to be Michel's mother - and Papini's mother-in-law) asked me if the girls were in the string quartet. I had no idea what she was talking about until we sat down and, after some remarks, Helga Davis introduced Pannonia, a string quartet made up of high school students from the Face The Music Program. In the collaborative spirit of the 2014 Ecstatic Music Festival, which was kicked off with this concert, Hospitality would be performing with the young musicians for part of the show.

Not surprisingly, it sounded terrific. As Michel remarked when asked about working with the quartet, "I think that Amber's songs can live in a lot of different worlds, and so it was actually a pretty natural translation from the rock band format." Even though he admitted to having little experience in arranging for strings, his adaptations of Rockets And Jets, Nightengale, and Sunship from Trouble, and Argonauts from the first album, flowed beautifully and captured the emotional tenor of each song perfectly. Pannonia also performed his first string quartet, Offshore (there's the ocean again), which was short and to the point and melodically redolent of classic American composers like Copland and Ives. The quartet played beautifully as well - obviously Face The Music is working wonders.

Hospitality finished the night with a short set as a band and while they didn't stretch out a lot, they did push some of the dissonant and abrasive leanings of Trouble slightly to the fore, while beefing up the older songs a bit. Besides his arranging skills, Michel is a triple-threat on stage, handling guitar, drums and keyboard with ease. Papini was assured on the keyboard as well and proved herself dynamic and occasionally explosive on guitar, while Betancourt wielded his Hofner bass with aplomb. They were aided by an unnamed drummer who stayed in the pocket and switched to keyboard as necessary. So, the "rock band format" was a success as well for Hospitality - no trouble at all.

Watch Hospitality and Pannonia at The Green Space below and keep an eye out for them in your town.

Sans Ensemble: Beth Weisser Goes Solo

Here's an annotated series of tweets as a review of Elizabeth Weisser's concert at Mannes College on Tuesday, February 4th. Weisser is the violist and Director of Development for Talea Ensemble, one of the most remarkable new music ensembles in a city that now boasts more than a few such groups.

Tweet 1: "@AnEarful: From world premieres to Schumann - violist Beth Weisser of @TaleaEnsemble w/piano & electronics TONIGHT @MannesCollege. #free #music"

I believe in promoting the artists I like on Twitter, Facebook and in conversation. I did get one thing wrong in my zeal, however: There were no world premieres, but there was a U.S. Premiere of a piece by Austrian composer Bernhard Gander.

Tweet 2: "@AnEarful: Beth Weisser of @taleaensemble about to kick it off with Xenakis, then Bach, Diaz de Leon, Gander, Dillon and Schumann. #newmusic"

Six composers, three of them living. Even someone barely familiar with composed music would probably note that something interesting was going on here. It was a program designed with intelligence and a keen musicality.

Tweet 3: "@AnEarful: Embellie by Xenakis is an agitated incantation, expertly played by Beth Weisser at Mannes - and Bach's BWV 1005 followed perfectly."

Iannis Xenakis was a Greek-born France-based composer (he died in 2001) known for spiky, virtuosic music such as his demanding string quartets. While he made use of electronics at times, Embellie, composed in 1981, is strictly a solo piece for viola. It's full of dark-hued tones and haunting sounds produced by well-deployed extended techniques. Weisser truly is an expert at this sort of thing, having played music that asks almost anything of her, short of smashing her instrument over her knee.

Bach's Sonata for Solo Violin No. 3 in C Major has been transcribed for many instruments so playing it on viola is not much of a leap. Composed in 1720, it may be the longest and most difficult of the works Bach wrote in this vein. According to All Music, the great Jascha Heifetz "...used to break out in a cold sweat and suffer nervous bow-shakes when playing it..." but here was Beth Weisser in her chic silver and black outfit playing it, as she did the Xenakis, without sheet music. There was a moment or two where she seemed on the verge of losing the thread but she never did. Her approach, along with the deep sound of the viola, brought out the extraordinary harmonic sophistication in Bach's writing and the lyrical dance-like sections sang out beautifully. "21st century Bach," as my friend accurately observed when the applause had died down.

Tweet 4: "@AnEarful: ii. 23 by @m_diazdeleon is a ballet for viola & electronics - in a fractured mirror, executed flawlessly by Beth Weisser @MannesCollege"

I was excited about Mario Diaz de León's entry on the program, having been introduced to his tough-minded music last year. As it happens, Weisser has been performing the cryptically titled ii. 23 since at least 2009 when she played it with "an impressive old-fashioned virtuosity." It still sounds as fresh as a newly crushed daisy as the viola jabs at and soars over a prickly yet rich electronic soundscape. The "fractured mirror" refers to the way Diaz de León's programming sometimes seemed to be an amplified echo of what the viola played. After the Bach, it was a thrilling romp on the cutting edge. You can hear an excellent recording, though not by Weisser, on Diaz de León's Enter Houses Of from 2009.

Tweet 5: "@AnEarful: There's a violent play in Bernhard Gander's The Orpheus File II, like tiger cubs grown too old for sparring. 1st US perf by Beth Weisser."

Bernhard Gander's piece, more accurately titled Die Orpheus Akte II, is a remarkable piece for viola, piano and shards of aggressive, noisy recorded sound that threaten to overwhelm the acoustic instruments. It did feel a little dangerous, but with a sense of fun, hence my imagery above. Weisser's fluent, commanding playing was matched by Stephen Gosling on piano while David Adamcyk dealt out the electronics without a hitch.
While this was indeed the first time Die Orpheus was performed on our shores, it certainly won't be the last: Talea is including it in their Inside Out concert at the Austrian Cultural Forum on March 4th, along with music by Pierluigi Billone and Olga Neuwirth. U.S. premieres of works by all three composers will be featured a few days later at Bohemian National Hall. You're running out of excuses now, aren't you?

Tweet 6: "@AnEarful: James Dillon's lyrical yet astringent Siorram should lead perfectly into Schumann's Marchenbilder to close Beth Weisser's concert."

James Dillon is a prolific Scottish composer whose work Talea has championed for some time. Weisser has played the knotty Siorram before but after the detonation of the Gander it seemed almost introspective. Siorram is the Gaelic word for "sheriff" although it's hard to guess at any programmatic content for the short piece. Perhaps some of the lyricism is derived from the Scottish traditional Siorram Sios Siorram Suas, but the limb I'm on is about to crack.

Tweet 7: "@AnEarful: Indeed, Schumann's sparkling, song-filled Marchenbilder sends us into the night on warm billows of melody. A triumph for Beth Weisser!"

It may be unfashionable to say so, but I'll take Schumann over Mendelssohn or Brahms any day. I even like his symphonies and the big pieces like Genoveva, one of the most sheerly beautiful operas of the Romantic era. That said, there is no doubt that his strongest body of work is chamber music and songs. Marchenbilder, or Fairy Tale Pictures, stands with his best work and Weisser and Gosling gave a stylish, assured and colorful performance. You could clearly see the knight defending the lady in the brisk second movement, along with all the other characters Schumann brought to life. Marchenbilder was in a way the most old-fashioned music played at Mannes, even including the Bach, but there is a reason we still tell fairy tales to our children and those "warm billows of melody" were just what the ecstatic audience needed as we headed out to negotiate the ice, slush and snow that awaited us on the streets of New York City.

Like a well-made mix tape, Elizabeth Weisser's concert was a captivating look into one of the most fascinating minds on the current musical scene. I felt lucky to be there.

Bob Marley Live: Worth A Punch In The Head

Bob Marley, Live in 1980

On the occasion of Bob Marley's 69th birthday, here's the tale of that time I saw him in concert. 

One of the most remarkable - and memorable - concerts I've seen was Bob Marley & The Wailers at Madison Square Garden. It was September 19th, 1980, the first of his last two dates in NYC - although we didn't know that then. He was trying to get more recognition from the black American audience and so was appearing with Kurtis Blow and The Commodores. I went with three of my partners in crime, John, Mike and Mike's older brother, Stephen. The cavernous Garden was packed and Kurtis Blow looked very small from our seats. This may have been his first appearance in an arena but he did fine, although the crowd was somewhat indifferent. We dug hearing The Breaks blasting through the huge place. When he was done, we headed right down to the floor and found a spot to stand just about a yard from the barrier to the press and VIP section. We were as close as we could get to the stage.

The lights went down and ten musicians and singers took the stage and immediately started playing a loose jam. I was ecstatic from the first note. We worshiped many of these musicians, especially bass player Aston "Family Man" Barrett and his brother, drummer Carlton "Carly" Barrett, and to hear them live was a revelation. A bass player myself, it was hard to take my eyes off of Family Man's nimble fingers. As the groove reached its peak, Bob bounded on stage to a deafening roar. The band shifted into Natural Mystic and all of us who were standing in the front began to move in unison to the hypnotic rhythm. To the right were three young girls who mirrored the moves and sang along with the I-Threes, the backing singers who included Rita Marley, Bob's wife. Their crisp, bright singing was a highlight among many highlights. Early in the set, Bob sang Forever Loving Jah, one of my favorite songs from his last album, Uprising - I later learned it was the only time he ever sang it live. There was not a flawed moment in the set, but it was too short, ending after about an hour. Because The Commodores were up next, there was no encore. We were walking on air, however, as we headed for one of the exit tunnels while waiting for Lionel Richie, etc. to take the stage.

We really only wanted to hear The Commodores do one song. They killed with Brick House, which included a long, funky bass solo. When Once, Twice, Three Times A Lady started up, we turned to leave and found ourselves surrounded. It was a bunch of big dudes and they were asking for money. We were getting mugged right in MSG! Somehow I became the focus of their attentions and three of them were staring at me. I think I must have refused to give them anything because next thing I knew I was getting punched in the head. That triggered us to push through all of them and run down to the next tunnel. There we found a security guard and breathlessly told him that I had been attacked and thugs were roaming the halls of MSG. Then things got really weird. The security guard pulled out a pen knife and began menacing us with it, joking about how we were scared. After struggling to process exactly what was happening, we did the only sane thing: we turned and hightailed it out of there. As we fled into the bustling NYC night, The Commodores continued their smooth songs of love.

It was a wild night, but in the end all that mattered was that we had seen one of the most astonishing performers of all time. Bob Marley had stood only yards away from us and sang some of his greatest songs. Even before I realized that I had seen one of his last concerts (he would only perform twice more), I would have gladly taken another punch in the head for an opportunity to see him on stage again.

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Bob Marley

Breton: Expanded Parameters

On Breton's second album, War Room Stories, the brief - electronic sounds and organic instruments combined, vocals alternately soulful, anthemic or quietly enraged, found sounds, dance rhythms - is maintained, but the parameters are expanded significantly. Listened back to back with their debut, Other People's Problems from 2012, the leap in sophistication of both songwriting and production is striking. One main difference between that album and this one is that they worked mainly in Berlin, out of their usual London haunts. Also, singer/guitarist Roman Rappak composed and arranged orchestral parts for five songs, which were then recorded by a 44 piece orchestra in Macedonia, an ambitious plan that is executed with perfect assurance.

The first song, Envy, is further evidence of their widened scope, as it is very nearly a sunny pop song, a fact that will likely surprise those who think they have Breton pegged. There are even steel drums, coming on like rare sunshine in the alleys of Brixton. "Cos you're a tourist/There's nothing wrong with that," Rappak sings, almost tossing off the words, "What you never could've noticed/Is how your bags were packed." Of course, it's never that easy: "It's how the odds were stacked against you/You're only here as long as they rented it to you." The song also has a tricky prog underpinning that keeps you on your toes while demonstrating a new nimbleness to the rhythm section of Adam Ainger (drums) and Dan McIlvenny (bass).

Envy leads into the darker realms of S Four, all ticking rhythm box beats and pizzicato strings until Ainger's drums kick in and the song finds its footing, eventually arriving at an epic sweep courtesy that Macedonian orchestra. Legs & Arms also has plenty of sweep, along with a stomping swagger slightly reminiscent of Edward The Confessor from the debut. Rappak's vocals are processed to a thin stream of static, and the lyrics are slightly threatening: "I've found a way of walking without sound/What scrapes the skin/I'll weigh you up/I'll weigh you in." Somehow in this forbidding atmosphere Breton manage to inject hooks by way of Ian Patterson's keyboard line or in the background vocals, further signs of their expertise in building a track.

Got Well Soon was the first track leaked from the album in late 2013, it's doomy synths a perfect accompaniment for the grimly hopeful video created by the band. The little film tells the tale of a suicidal teen rescued by a would-be home invader, a pointed example of how some of the most important connections in life have randomness in their DNA. Speaking of DNA, the song has antecedents in the chattering keyboards of Talking Heads and the witty swing of Dennis Davis's drumming on Bowie's Fashion - good bones indeed.

The Macedonians - conducted by a man named Igor, apparently - return in the reflective Closed Category, its refrain of "Stay poor, spend more," undercutting the lush orchestration. National Grid's fleet rhythms and driving bass are surrounded by clouds of synths and the insinuating tone Rappak adopts to sing "Well we haven't got a school and we haven't got a name/And they're struggling to count us now," lends a further edge to the post-apocalyptic atmosphere. The two-tone police siren that ends National Grid provides a direct bridge to Search Party, which seems to take place in the same burned-out civilization. This time, the the air of casual violence is leavened by the strings, and the tolling bells in the fade out brighten the mood as well. Maybe there is "hope for us," to quote the chorus of Breton's terrific 2012 single, Population Density.

302 Watchtowers is sadly lyrical and may well be the most sheerly beautiful song on War Room Stories, with gradually accreting layers of electronics and vocals. Brothers starts off similarly, and just when the album seems to be miring down slightly, it takes another turn toward dance-pop. Between the percussion, the vocal effects and the catchy chorus, remixers are going to have a field day - as they often do with Breton's music.

The album ends with 15 Minutes From Now, which alternates static moments with the band at full gallop, strings soaring overhead, in an optimistic show of strength. The ultimate message of the song, and War Room Stories as a whole, maybe boiled down to "if we all stick together we'll be alright," but it's Breton's clear-eyed acknowledgment of the complexities of sticking together that lends teeth to their worldview. Most humans have no doubt that they need a society of others to survive and perpetuate the race, yet that doesn't stop a notable proportion of our planet's inhabitants from stabbing their kin in the back in some fashion or another. Perhaps another version of the message would be "accept dependence but be wary." And the way the album ends with 30 seconds of mechanical noise - film running out of a projector? a ventilation system struggling to function? - somehow conveys the idea that these War Room Stories are far from over.

The album comes out digitally on 2/4 and physically on 2/11, and their North American tour begins in Dallas on March 16th, touching down at Glasslands in Brooklyn on May 16th. If all goes as usual, the show will feature visuals edited live by Ryan McClarnon. Breton sell out to 1,000's in Europe - catch them in an intimate venue while you can.

 

I'm With The Swarm: Bug Music

One doesn't have to look too deeply into the effect of the African diaspora on music to start hearing about noise and distortion. The earliest musicians among the pygmy tribes had various ways of making parts of their instruments buzz and hum sympathetically, sounds that American musicians emulated by turning up their guitars, sticking a pencil in the speaker, or stepping on a distortion pedal. Of course, that was centuries after European culture attempted to eliminate noise from music. I may have first read about the connection between say, Link Wray's Rumble and Ghanian sounds in African Music, the essential text by the late Francis Bebey. But not even Bebey probed into why this might be, why humans seem attracted to scratchy buzzy sounds. In his hugely entertaining and deeply thoughtful Bug Music: How Insects Gave Us Rhythm And Noise, David Rothenberg makes a bold attempt to figure it all out, and much else besides.

One big surprise in reading Bug Music is to learn that this hardly the first writing about the intersection between the music of arthropods and humans. Rothenberg's bibliography includes books dating back nearly 100 years and among the many poems he quotes is one by Anacreon from the first century B.C. However, this is probably the first time a musician has led the charge. Rothenberg plays sax with cicadas, speaks knowledgeably about music of all genres and eras - from Desprez to Deadmau5 - and has even provided a soundtrack to the book in the form of original music and a playlist of insect-influenced sounds.

Since he is not strictly a scientist, he is free to make all sorts of imaginative leaps. In Chapter Three, What Makes Them Dance, he starts a discussion of polyrhythms and repetition with this paragraph:
"Going along with the beat, but not quite on the beat. Don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing. The perfect appeal of uneven evenness. Nature not Platonic but just slightly off. We find our way into reality by delving deep into the buzz, by charting the noise, mapping the chaos. Our world is not perfect, and was never meant to be. Once we recognize that, hear music in the fuzziness, only then are we halfway home."

This leads to a brief overview of grooves and polyrhythms and then to the work of primate specialist Björn Merker, who has pointed out that the species that shares 99 percent of our genes (the ape) shows little interest in making music, dancing to rhythms, or joining together in synchronized activities. We obviously do, and such things have likely contributed to our success on the earth, so where did it come from? A strong possibility is the insects, who, after all, have led the way in the development of societies. So while entrenched devoteés of European music may bemoan the buzzing, noisy beat music that has taken over the world, there is likely no stopping it. They should let an enthusiast like Rothenberg show them the way.

Reading this delightful, inspiring book will not only give you a new appreciation for the sounds of a summer night, but also a deeper understanding of the sounds on the radio - tune in.

P.S.: You can find Bug Music: The CD on Spotify and I also created a playlist of many of the songs he talks about, along with a couple of my own additions.

Out Of The Past 2013: Reissues, Etc.

Just a few of 2013's notable reissues

You don't have to be an industry pundit to know that the music business is in transition (if you're an optimist) or in deep trouble (pessimist). Whatever the case, and whatever the motivation, record companies have grown more and more adept at creating objects of desire in the form of super-deluxe box sets. A-list critics must be drowning in gorgeously produced limited editions, filled with smart liner notes, unseen photos and unreleased music. For those of us who pay for most of their music, many of these items are out of reach, although we can dip a toe in on Spotify and other streaming services. So I will not be going in depth about the latest Bob Dylan Bootleg Series entry ($96), Harry Nilsson's Complete RCA albums ($86), The Band live at The Academy of Music ($76), Skydog, the comprehensive Duane Allman anthology ($85), or volume one of Jack White's exhumation of Paramount Records ($500). I will say that what I've heard of these has ranged from illuminating to revelatory and some of them may yet find a home in my collection.

The Beatles were also on sale again, with a new volume of BBC recordings. Let's just say that I'm on an accelerated schedule when it comes to that material and if you like the Fabs you'll want to grab what I am sure is a beautifully executed selection.

Here are the catalog items I did spend time with, some of which have been overlooked as 2013 ground to a halt. Later, I'll let you in on a secret source of free (and legal) MP3's, which is one way I've kept up.

Bobby Whitlock - Where There's A Will There's A Way: The ABC-Dunhill Recordings Bobby is an ace keyboard player and singer who took a back seat to Duane Allman and Eric Clapton in Derek & The Dominoes but who provided a jolt of energy and passion to the legendary proceedings. This fantastic set from Light In The Attic compiles his first two solo albums and is a blast of 70's goodness. The cast is beyond star-studded (George Harrison, Clapton, Klaus Voorman, Jim Gordon, even the Edwin Hawkins Singers) and the music combines blues, folk, country and soul in a way that will be familiar to fans of Layla, All Things Must Pass and Dave Mason's Alone Together, and many of the songs can hold their own in that illustrious company. Some reviews of this reissue have come down on Bobby for being emotionally profligate - he doesn't hold back - but to me he just sings as though there's something very real at stake and I believe every growling syllable.

Michael Chapman - Wrecked Again Like the above, this is another public service from Light In The Attic and their third Chapman reissue. A genius acoustic guitarist whose voice might be an acquired taste, Chapman's early stuff has interesting overlaps with pre-Ziggy Bowie. On Wrecked Again, he broadened the palette significantly, working with Space Oddity arranger Paul Buckmaster on several songs. When the strings and horns swooped in on the title track, I was admittedly surprised, even though I knew they were coming. However, repeated listens caused everything to gel beautifully. On that song, the orchestration serves as a hedge against Chapman's self-lacerating refrain "Oh, Michael, what have you done," while an epic like Fennario is just made more so thanks to Buckmaster. if you like you folk-rock acerbic and British, get Wrecked Again with Michael Chapman.

The Velvet Underground - White Light/White Heat 45th Anniversary Super Deluxe Edition Coming out around the time of Lou Reed's death, this lavish and deep reissue was another reminder of why we all cared so much. The Velvets come on like a supercharged rhythm & blues band on the third disc, which features a complete concert taped on East 71st street a few months before they recorded the album. In a flash I understood why The Yardbirds were the first group to cover a VU song. And then, as Sister Ray seemed to condense into a black hole of musique concrete, it was hard to imagine the two bands were even from the same planet. The remastering is perfect, the visuals gorgeous, and the essays, featuring new insights from Reed, John Cale and Moe Tucker, make for great reading. "No one listened to it," Reed said, "But there it is, forever - the quintessence of articulate punk. And no one goes near it." A landmark reissue.

Pierre Boulez - Oeuvres Completes - Complete Works Sometimes sparkling, sometimes challenging, always rewarding, the music of Boulez is essential listening. This collection, drawn from several labels and cheekily subtitled "Work In Progress," features pretty much everything the 88 year old composer is satisfied with at this point.

Sly & The Family Stone - Higher A long time coming and very nearly gives the full measure of the man and band.

Elvis Presley - Elvis At Stax After listening to this thorough investigation of the music Elvis recorded at Stax in 1973, I am more convinced than ever that calling him the King Of Rock & Roll does him a disservice. It's far too limiting - he's more like the king of American song. Comprising funk, folk, pop, balladry and rock & roll, when assembled together, these sessions prove that Elvis was at a peak of talent and engagement. Some of the alternate takes are superior to the released versions, with Elvis cruising to victory over his crack band. Note that it is his band and not Booker T. & The MG's - he wasn't THAT adventurous. These sessions were his last sustained work in the studio in his legendary career and, while not all the material is top-notch, Elvis At Stax is further proof that when given his head, there was no one better.

The Miles Davis Quintet - Live In Europe 1969: The Bootleg Series Vol. 2 Speaking of giants of American music, Sony Legacy follows up Vol. 1 with another spectacular release. Worth it just for the DVD of this short-lived band onstage.

Rodion G.A. - Lost Tapes This Strut compilation features the wild and wonderful (and occasionally wayward) music Rodion Rosca recorded between 1978 and 1983, never before released sounds of young electronic Romania. Think you've heard it all? You're so wrong.

Killing Joke - The Singles Collection 1979-2012 Even if you can't find the three disc version (with demos and rare tracks), this overview of the unstoppable post-punk band is fairly definitive. For now.

Buffalo Daughter - Rediscover. Best. Re-Recordings And Remixes Everyone knows the 90's are back, so what better time to delve into the witty and Krautrock-infused sounds of this Japanese trio? First heard on these shores via the Beastie Boys's Grand Royal label, this collection will bring you up to speed on some really fun stuff.

Finally, a word about Jimi Hendrix. While I wish his half-sister Janie seemed to be a nicer person, there is no doubt that she helped last year be a banner year for the ultimate guitar hero. People, Hell & Angels collected a dozen studio tracks Hendrix recorded at various times and places without the Experience. While some of the remastering is slightly aggressive, the songs burst out of the speakers, crackling with fire and life. If this is indeed the last new release of unreleased Hendrix studio material, it's a more than worthy ending point. 

2013 also saw the release of Hear My Train a Coming, a lovingly produced documentary made in collaboration between the Hendrix family and PBS's American Masters. Featuring spectacular live footage and a wealth of new interviews, it's hard to imagine bettering this film. Show it to anyone who doesn't understand - and even those who think they do. The DVD has some great bonus features, including footage filmed at the New York Pop Festival and the Love & Peace Festival in Germany - his last ever performance. There's also a generous selection from the Miami Pop Festival, which is also the subject of its own release including a complete set from the 1968 concert. The Experience burn their way through a mostly standard setlist, heavy on Are You Experienced? material. However, there was rarely anything standard about a Hendrix concert and there are many inspired and transcendent moments. 

Make sure you watch this performance of Foxey Lady all the way to the end. Hendrix dishes out a number of dazzling effects to finish off the song - scraping the strings, abusing the whammy bar, swinging the guitar against the mic stand, and pounding the strings with his fist. His expression of wicked delight is something to see and a perfect capper to a great year in reissues.

Out Of The Past 2013: Reissues, Etc. from Murgatroyd on 8tracks Radio.

Now, about those free MP3's…Do you have a library card? Then you are entitled to access Freegal Music and download three tracks each week. Is there more than one library card in your household? Do the math - and tell them AnEarful sent you.