The Rolling Stones and Philosophy: It’s Just a Thought Away
Luke Dick and George A. Reisch (Editors)
[Open Court Press (2011)]
Mick Jagger having tea with John Stuart Mill? Keith Richards jamming with Descartes? The Rolling Stones have been called many things over the years, but they have, rarely, if ever, been viewed as philosophers – until now. This compendium volume contains 22 essays by a heavily degreed batch of philosophy academics dealing with polemics concerning the self proclaimed “Greatest Rock and Roll Band in the World.”
The seeming novelty of this subject is tempered somewhat by this being #64 in a long series entitled Popular Culture and Philosophy which has delved into the philosophical implications of such weighty subjects as Doctor Who, Seinfeld, Harry Potter, and World of Warcraft, not to mention other musical groups such as Led Zeppelin, Radiohead and, inevitably, the Beatles. It’s a fun read, with the contributors grappling with such weighty issues as whether the Stones are evil (and their alleged connections with Satan), the Zen of being Keith Richards, the political stances taken by the band’s songs, and the debate, still raging after five decades, of whether the Stones or the Beatles are the better band. Most of the essays are entertaining, and all offer insights into this enduring band of misfits.
Wayne Toups, Steve Riley, and Wilson Savoy Band Courtbouillon
[Valcour Records (2011)]
It’s not often three Cajun accordionists come together as a band, especially when they lead their own aggregations but that’s the case here with Wayne Toups (Zydecajun), Steve Riley (Mamou Playboys) and Wilson Savoy (Pine Leaf Boys). Initially, Savoy’s Pine Leaf Boys performed at a ceremony honoring Toups. Toups then joined PLB for a few numbers and had such a good time that he remarked that he would like to start a band christened Courtbouillon (a tomato sauce used in Cajun cuisine) with Savoy and Riley. In February of 2011, it happened, an auspicious show that went hours past quitting time. It must have been magical because it sure laid a solid foundation for what takes place here.
Though Toups, Riley and Savoy are the best around in contemporary Cajun music, there’s never any showcases of hot licks and cute tricks; nor are there ever any upstaging cutting contests. Instead, it’s a very intimate affair shared among friends who deeply revere the Cajun music they were weaned on, as evidenced by the selections from Iry LeJeune, Lawrence Walker, Shirley Bergeron and the public domain vault. It’s done in a very acoustic, unamplified folky style that’s 180 degrees away from today’s kickin’ dancehall variety that’s expected to go over the top several times over. Additionally, there’s no smacking, hard-pounding drums; just Eric Frey marking the first beat of every waltz measure with his pulsing acoustic bass.
On the selections where Toups pumps the box, Riley masterfully outlines the chords on acoustic guitar and Savoy bows the fiddle old-timey style. On “The Passa Two-Step,” Riley plays beautiful ringing trills that resonate through the airwaves. “Les Flames De L’Enfer” is quite novel, each accordionist sings and takes a ride, allowing the attentive listener to compare and contrast the subtle intricacies of each. Although this courtbouillon’s more than ready, here’s hoping for seconds.
- Dan Willging
Here is the three playing together just earlier this month at Cafe Des Amis with a noisey crowd singing along to “The Back Door”:
Maria Muldaur Steady Love
[Stony Plain Records (2011)]
Steady Love is quite the departure from Maria Muldaur‘s previous album, Maria Muldaur and Her Garden of Joy. Whereas the last album was a glorious stroll through the country blues with some special guest friends, Steady Love is an ass-kicking evening at the roadhouse with a surprisingly successful collection of blues numbers that border at times on R&B. It helps that her voice is deeper and gruffer these days. Not to be a generationalist, but I’m wondering if we’re starting to see a wave of baby boomer blues artists who’ve aged enough that they now sound like the original blues artists they were first emulating. Certainly, Gregg Allman’s stunning blues album from last year is a great example of this, and Maria Muldaur really sounds like one of the old blues shouters she’s emulated and admired all her life. Or maybe it’s a lifetime of experience on the road and in the studio. Whatever the case, we’re hearing some amazing albums these days from artists who used to be at the mainstream of blues/roots rock/Americana. Which is great! In Maria’s case, a victory lap is most deserved, and that’s what this album feels like. It’s not necessarily ground-breaking or innovative. It’s not another T-Bone Burnett-produced examination of the deeper meanings of American roots music. It’s just an artist enjoying the music she’s always loved and nailing the kind of swagger it takes years to perfect.
Standout tracks include the fuzzed-out fun of “I’ll Be Glad,” the the rollicky gospel-shout number “I Done Made It Up In My Mind,” the brassed-out soul of the title track “Steady Love,” and the eerie blues number “I’m Not Alone”.
Temple Beautiful is roots rocker Chuck Prophet’s love letter to his home town, San Francisco. It opens with a crunchy, Lou Reed style rock tune, “Play That Song Again,” which characterizes S as “A city full of animals, a city full of thieves.” “Castro Halloween” moves into wistful Springsteen territory as Prophet reminisces about the huge street parties that used to occur in the city’s Castro District. The punkish title song is an homage to one of the city’s best, long departed music venues. Much like “Desolation Row,” the winsome “Willie is Up at Bat” is a rogue’s gallery of many of the characters that defined the city in the last half of the twentieth centuries, while “White Nights, Big City” chronicles the near-riot that occurred the evening after Dan White, who shot both Harvey Milk and mayor George Moscone, was convicted of manslaughter rather than murder. Temple Beautiful is a soaring, passionate work that captures the grandeur and mystery of one of the world’s greatest cities.
Arty Hill Another Lost Highway
[Self-released (2011)]
Ever since Hank Williams warbled about that forlorn lost highway towards the end of short, tragic career, it’s become a symbol of country lore. Baltimore’s Arty Hill finds his way on a similar lost highway, but not necessarily the one Williams traveled. Instead, Hill’s is comically littered with 12-pack mornings, ICU’s, halfway houses, and cheatin’ neighbors, all the wicked stuff that makes country music great. In its own way, Hill’s catchy all-original affair stands on its own merit, even though it could use a little more edge in a few places.
Hill’s best song on Another Lost Highway is “Kind of That Thing,” a homage to all those hard workin,’ slip sliding steel guitarists who really know how to get a bang out of twang. He mixes it up with a little western swing, honky tonk, pedal-to-the-metal rockabilly and rumbling rumba (“Breaking-Up Party”) not staying in any particular idiom for too long. Still, his greatest asset is fronting a dance band that makes it impossible to drop the beat, despite how many six-pack mornings you’ve had lately.
This is the second recording by the Norwegian band Hekla Stalstrenga, formed by fiddler Ragnhild Furebotten and guitarist Tore Bruvoll back in 2008. The group plays traditional music from northern Norway with some original compositions mixed in. The first recording was done as a duo, and they have since added drummer Ole-Jakob Larsen, acoustic bassist Trond-Viggo Solas and lead vocalist Anne Nymo Trulsen to form an acoustic folk rock band. The band has a lively up-tempo sound with an underling feeling of energy and humor.
The opening track sets the template for the rest of the recording: “Erter & Sverter” is a traditional number with four part harmony vocals, with upfront bass and drums driving the song; Bruvoll adds oud, saz, and bottleneck guitar to fill out the sound. The album has more traditional material played in a similar style. Things slow down a bit with a lovely version of Ola Bremnes’s “Hal dur Fyr,” and instrumental tracks feature Furebotten’s fiddle and Bruvells banjo work. Vocalist Trulsen’s big, powerful voice is a highlight, with the rest of the band adding strong backing vocals. It makes for an enjoyable mix of both traditional and contemporary music from one of Norway’s most interesting and exciting bands. Recommended.
The Poison Oaks is a talented, 14- member collective that includes famed drummer Dave Mattacks and singer-songwriter Jennifer Kimball. Founder and lead singer Laura Cortese has an ethereal voice very suitable to the alt-pop on the way-too-brief Pine. She makes it sound quite effortless as she breezes through the frenetic title track, and floats amid the deceptive calm that drifts into, and out of, measured cacophony on “Tragedy.” But in fact there is extraordinary thought and care in each cut. Geniuses from the past are skillfully referenced, while The Oaks’ maintain their clear cut sonic fingerprint.
It’s no mystery where the influence comes from for the subtle “Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite!” ambiance on the bright “Ninety;” or for “London Devil,” which has glorious California beach harmonies at its core. And the heavenly fade out on “Bright Lights” is reminiscent of Mark Knopfler’s strikingly beautiful “Why Worry.” The air of experimentation comes from the use of farfisa and moog, and the creative playing of piano, guitar, and banjo. I guess it’s still acceptable to use the “olden-days” parlance and describe the 5-song Pine as an EP. No matter. It would of course be more appropriate to focus on Pine’s content and simply call it a sublime example of doing it right.
Anita Skorgan På gyllen grunn [On Golden Ground]
[Kirkelig Kulturverkstec (2011)]
Norwegian singer and songwriter Anita Skorgan is well known in her native country as a pop and contemporary singer, with strong ties to Norway’s entries in the Eurovision Song Contest in the 1990s. So it’s not surprising to hear that her first release in 10 years, På gyllen grunn a recording of stark, minimalistic songs inspired by artist Emanuel Vigeland, has met with mixed reviews in Norway. The lyrics to the songs, inspired by the work of Vigeland, were written by KKV’s founder Erik Hillestad and paired with melodies to little-known Norwegian folk songs. The album was recorded in Vigeland’s mausoleum in Oslo in a room decorated with his work “Vita,” a piece illustrating human bodies from all stages of life, with Vigeland’s ashes in an urn above a low door. Given the setting, it’s not surprising to find the music is meditative, intense, and reflective.
Skorgan is backed by trumpet, lute, electric guitar and drums, much of it free flowing and almost hymn-like in nature. It’s a challenging recording, one for late nights, candle lights, and quiet reflection. But if you embrace the concept (probably easier for us here in the States without any preconceived ideas of Skorgan’s previous work) you’ll be richly rewarded with a truly unique recording. [www.kkv.no, available in the US from www.scanspec.com]
Here is Anita Skorgan performing “Alt Hva Gud Har Skapt Er Rent” in the mausoleum of Emnauel Vigeland:
Sometimes all you really need to say in a review is “Damn, they killed it.”
So I’m happy to say about the new album, Down the Green Fields, from Irish-American traditionalists Bua: Damn, they killed it. Seriously. If you have any interest in the traditional music of Ireland, an emerald sound born of fiddles, pipes, whistles, and a clarity of voice that sounds like the musical equivalent of a crystal clear mountain stream and refreshes just as much, buy this album.
Now, for those of you who have a deep love of Irish trad like I do, here’s a more in-depth review:
From the opening track, a set of two reels (Eddie Moloney’s/Micho Russell’s), the boys in Bua show that they have impeccable taste. Whereas most other young Irish bands would ramp the needle up to 11 [this one goes to 78? -ed], burning through these old reels like a gas guzzling SUV, Bua have the taste to know that by slowing the music down and playing at a relaxed pace they can actually have more of an effect. That’s rare in Irish music today, and shows that these players are totally attuned to the true roots of the music. For how could you dance to Irish music when the meter tops out? The frenetic insanity of a band like Dervish only works because those guys are living gods dropped from Mount Olympus to walk among us and demonstrate the powers of musical perfection. Bua would rather play the music right than show off, and that is something that makes me want to stand up and applaud.
Let me take a moment here to commend Bua’s new fiddler Devin Shepherd. I’m incredibly picky about my Irish fiddlers, and was appalled at the use of crappy unornamented Irish fiddling in the new Sherlock Holmes movie almost to the point of walking out. I don’t want to listen to some classical jackass noodle with Irish tunes. True Irish fiddling is as mercurial as the Irish themselves. It doesn’t trust you, doesn’t welcome you, and won’t be your friend unless you put the time in to truly understand. It’s the kind of music that lulls you into a false sense of security with a seemingly regular sense of rhythm, then shanks you in the back when you’re not looking. Don’t believe me? Go to an Irish trad concert and listen to the audience try to clap along. I guarantee you the clapping will fall apart and become arrhythmic in about 10 seconds. That’s because the Irish are pure geniuses at disguising the true heartbeat of the music. Bua’s fiddler Devin Shepherd understands this, but doesn’t overdo it like Martin Hayes. Instead, he strips the show-off ornaments to a bare minimum and focuses on nailing the perfect rhythm and lilt. His fiddling is everything I wanted to be in an Irish fiddler and I’m now a most devoted fan of his.
Sean Gavin brings a subtle beauty to his fluting, piping, and whistling on the album, and Brian Miller shows himself to be a sensitive and beautiful guitarist as well. I have stacks of albums of purely instrumental Irish music, and these guys could hold their own with the best.
But, for me, the heart of Bua is the traditional singing of Brían Ó hAirt, who has dedicated himself to the sean-nós (old style) Irish song tradition, as well as the Irish sean-nós stepdancing tradition. This old style of stepdance is intimately tied to the tune itself, and this means that O’Hairt has a touch with the old songs that just can’t be faked. His voice has the beautiful fragility of the great Irish singers, and his knowledge of the sources of the tune shows his great respect for the tradition. He’s won awards in sean-nós singing (one of the last bastions of old Irish culture), and is a dedicated teacher as well. Sean-nós singing is an arcane style, almost a spiritual ritual at times, that is judged on the singer’s ability to convey the message of a song and to transfix an audience. It’s something that’s not easy to develop a taste for (believe me, I’ve tried), but when it touches you, it touches you deep. By blending the hypnotic, transcendent elements of sean-nós with a full band, O’Hairt has made this old tradition much more accessible. His singing on “Baba ‘Con Raoi” and “Bó na LeathAdhairce” is one of the album’s highlights. It reminds me at times of the seminal 1989 Dé Danann album The Mist Covered Mountains, which married the fire of five young bucks with the wisdom of some of the sean-nós tradition’s elder statesmen. Honestly, I can think of no higher praise than saying that Bua’s new album, Down the Green Fields, compares favorably with Dé Danann’s The Mist Covered Mountain.
Bua’s rendition of the song “Soldier, Soldier” is another album highlight. The song is based loosely on the melody to the old chesnut tune “Flowers of Edinburgh,” a song I’ve heard way too often in my lifetime. Not only do the instrumentalists in Bua totally redefine this old tune, but Ó hAirt’s singing literally brings tears to my eyes …
Damn, this is a great album.
For any fans of traditional Irish music, Bua’s Down the Green Fields is not only the kind of album that should place the band in the highest echelon of Irish groups, but also a truly admirable example of taste and restraint in a tradition that sometimes loses sight of both. Hat’s off! [www.buamusic.com]
—Devon Leger (Shoreline, WA)
Editor’s note: Videos of these guys are scarce, but here’s a song from a house concert in Alabama last year. Brían Ó hAirt’s voice is indeed a thing of wonder:
It’s no mystery to me why Bahamas (a.k.a. Afie Jurvanen) has been quietly building anticipation for his solo material since releasing the Juno-nominated Pink Strat a couple years ago: He backs up his easygoing, warm, and humble attitude with impeccable skills as a guitarist (of course), songwriter, and arranger. Barchords, his second disc, is steeped in classic pop and soul, a 3 a.m. form of Motown.
The guitar work in particular is extraordinary, which is to be expected. Not a minute goes by without something surprising coming from his instrument. His layered, trebley spikes set off the keyboards on “Caught Me Thinking,” perfect summer radio fare even in the dead of winter; “Okay I’m All Right” coaxes a 1980s synth sound out of the instrument; call and response guitar and falsetto lines fill in “Your Sweet Touch” and “Snowplow”; whisps of Hawaiian slide guitar make their way into “Montreal”; and his careful precision is particularly evident on the acoustic on “Overjoyed.” He never wastes a note, never devolves into self-indulgence on his instrument.
This same precision is a blessing and a curse in Jurvanen’s vocals, and he sticks with either his preferences or limitations, a whispery, relaxed tone like Jack Johnson (who recognizes the similarity and recently mentioned Bahamas in a newletter). This is a detriment on a sedate song like “Montreal” (which comes too early in the disc for its sleepiness) or the one-minute “Any Other Way.” They sound something captured in a hotel room after a show, with a “don’t wake the people in the next room” volume and intensity. But the same vocal tone is a boon in other slow pieces like “Overjoyed,” or the opener “Lost in the Light,” or the closing hymn “Be My Witness”; coincidentally, these are similar, slow, soul-drenched tunes. He’s not emotionless or distracting by any means (and it’s rare for his vocals to be the center of any song in the first place), but his voice never carries the songs on its own, never amazes the way his guitar does. After repeated listens, it seems that much of the emotional power in the standout tracks here comes from and is bolstered by the complete arrangement.
Which brings us right back around to Bahamas’s major strengths as an artist: his guitar playing, songwriting, and arranging prowess. Overall, Barchords is an outstanding album, full of small delights even with casual spins and rewarding deeper listening at every turn.
Big Jim Adam & John Stilwagen Tippy’s Barn
[Circle504 Records (2011)]
Colorado Springs, CO is known for a lot of things—majestic scenery, tourist attractions, military posts, and even a military academy. But one thing the city hasn’t been known for, at least until lately, is the blues, with the great John-Alex Mason, teenage guitar slinger Austin Young, and the rollicking blues duo of Big Jim Adam (guitar/banjo) and John Stilwagen (keys/accordion). What distinguishes this guitar stinging/romping keys duo from other aggregations of this size is their highly interactive nature—not a gregarious frontman accompanied by a stoic sidekick—as well as being very entertaining, bettering many of those bigger sized quartets, quintets and sextets. On Tippy’s Barn, jokes, crazy madman laughter, bantering back and forth, slide whistles, kazoos, chicken clucks, and cowbells all make for an enjoyable experience, not to mention Stilwagen’s uncanny ability to play off Adam’s insane comic demeanor.
Similarly, many of the songs are a raging hoot as well, like “Fishin’ Hole” with that elusive catfish Mr. Sneaky and “Chicken A La Blues” where poultry never has a fowl taste. The title song is the centerpiece of this ilk, a barreling tale of Tippy’s raucous barn parties that leads to his arrest, which is comically portrayed by all the cacophonic commotion and Stilwagen frantically flying up and down the 88s. (Check out David Nelson’s fantastic comic book art that illustrates the tale in the accompanying CD booklet.)
But it’s not all novelty and games. There’s a deep, serious side here as well. Though the songs are benevolently credited to both men, Adam contributes the lion’s share and is quite the poignant songwriter. Usually there’s a subtle wholesome message unveiled but it’s usually one that’s universally agreeable. It’s here on “Work Till The Sun Goes Down” and “I’d Rather Go Blind” where Adam shines the brightest with meaningful originals delivered in a blow-the-doors-off voice that feels southern-rooted. Toss in any soul/gospel vocalist you care to name and guaranteed Adam will hold his own comfortably.
Any way you look at it, it’s all good stuff, even if you hate catfish and chicken.
—Dan Willging (Denver, CO)
[Miss Steak: Corrected "jokes, crazy madman laughter, bantering back and forth, slide whistles, kazoos, chicken clucks, and cowbells" to be capitalized correctly and make sufficient use of the word "and." -ed]
For the last half-dozen years, jazz guitarist Leni Stern has spent a lot of her time in West Africa, mostly Mali, seeping in the musics of the region, which has often been called the ultimate home of the blues. She’s learned to play indigenous stringed instruments, such as the n’goni ba, mixing them with her electric jazz guitar sounds. And she helped establish, and teaches at, the Ouidah International Center for Art and Music in Benin.
Since 2006, Stern’s made several albums of this blended music in collaboration with Malian musicians. Those albums, however, were more produced, using larger ensembles (including saxophones) and overdubs. With Sabani, Stern steps back, working lean and mostly acoustic (with a bit of electric guitar) as a trio: herself; Haruna Samake on other strings (camela n’goni) and percussion (karignan); and percussionist Mamadou Kone, AKA “Prince,” who provides the pulse with calabash, talking drum, and shakers.
An apt comparison for American ears would be Joni Mitchell at her most “out-there” moments on The Hissing of Summer Lawns, both for the African influences and the mystical breeze lifting the songs. “Papillon” tells the story of a friend of Stern’s who is mysteriously surrounded by butterflies; there’s “Sorcerer,” with its lyrics about dancing trees in the forest at night; and the final instrumental song, “The Cat Stole the Moon,” which is based on a Malian children’s story to explain the new moon’s absence in the sky. “Djanfa” features guest Zoumana Tareta, a renowned Malian singer and sokou player (a bowed string instrument), singing about the musicians on the disk in his native language.
Leni Stern’s new album is a worthy compatriot of the work of other Western artists who have been influence by and collaborated with Mali’s musicians, such as Corey Harris Bonnie Raitt, Ry Cooder, Robert Plant, and Taj Mahal, adding her own jazz influences and a singer-songwriter tinge.
