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Dateline: 05-01-05
- Devils & Dust
by Bruce Springsteen (2005)
Why (in three sentences or less): a (mostly) solo Bruce explores the
distance between two people: husband and wife, mother and son, even a
hooker and her john. Not as dense as
The Ghost of Tom Joad nor as desperate
as Nebraska (Bruce’s two previous
acoustic efforts), Bruce ties together the hot button issues of the Iraq
War, sex, and religion, finds the connections between the characters, and
illuminates the frayed ends. Spruced by understated arrangements (and
augmented by a DVD EP of live solo performances),
Devils & Dust, like the best of Bruce’s
work, furthers his career-long thesis that the darkness of living cannot
and will not overcome the joy of life.
- Tangos & Tantrums
by Sylvie Lewis (2005)
By turns witty, wistful, and deceptively honest, Sylvie Lewis performs her
original compositions in a cabaret style that neither panders to the genre
nor wears its pedigree on its sleeve: it merely serves as the best framework
for the singer to hang her weary, yet hopeful songs of love stolen, love
drunk, and love in competition. Sylvie’s lyrics are little short stories,
snapshots of a specific time, performed against a timeless
tapestry.
- Back to Me
by Kathleen Edwards (2005)
Last month, I picked up (in part by the advance press for
Back to Me) and became obsessed with
Kathleen’s 2003 effort Failer. The new
album isn’t as revelatory as Failer, but
it’s no less entrancing. On the first song, Kathleen sings “I can spot your
kind a million miles way,” and spends the rest of the record wearing down the
road to disappointment, escaping, in tracks like “Pink Emerson Radio,” a past
still hot to the touch.
- B-Sides & Rarities
by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds (2005)
A three disc set of unapologetic evil, twisted Harry Smith-style ballads of
deception and murder (of course), and love songs dripping with Biblical imagery
and a sadness too deep for any mere mortal. But Nick’s voice and the
bone-rattling Bad Seeds aren’t the sounds of mere mortals: they’re reporters
from the dark side, hyper-literary gangsters aware of every misstep, sorry for
every sin, poster boys for the damned. Highlights include drunken duets with
the Pogues’ Shane MacGowan, acoustic versions previously only available on an
import EP, and an almost 18 minute radio session version of “O’Malley’s Bar,” a
mass murderer narrative that manages to be both hysterical and
terrifying.
- I See a Darkness
by Bonnie Prince Billy (1999)
In an attempt to re-ignite their approach to songwriting, Jack Logan,
A stunning, gentle, and disturbing masterpiece by Bonnie Prince Billy (Will
Oldham’s current alter-ego). Every song is the equivalent of a sore tooth: no
matter what you do, your tongue can’t stop probing the pain. The title track
(covered by the original Man in Black, Johnny Cash), is perhaps one of the most
honest songs ever written: “Many times we’ve been out drinking and many times
we’ve shared our thoughts, but did you ever, ever notice the kind of thoughts
I got.”
- American Idiot
by Green Day (2004)
I managed to avoid this album from the post-punk jokers last year, but the trio’s
anti-Bush rock opera is surprisingly deft and moving. Turning progressive rock’s
multi-sectioned song structure on its pretentious ear, the band has fashioned an
album whose rewards increase with every spin (which makes its obvious naïveté all
the more endearing and resolutely American — despite being sung with an
English accent). Bonus: righteous politics aside, you can still sing-along and
pogo while Billie Joe exhorts us to “do the propaganda.”
- The Sun Years
by Johnny Cash (1990)
The late Johnny Cash had a 40 year career with an amazing array of different
phases (almost all worthy of further investigation), but it all began on the Sun
label in the late 50s, and this Rhino reissue collects 18 essential tracks.
Unflinchingly honest (in both his own compositions and in the songs he covered),
he bridged the gap between country, rockabilly, and folk while laying open,
through many voices (rendered mortal and somehow otherworldly in his resonant,
dirt-encrusted baritone), the desires, sins, and loves of men who’ve seen it all
and have no intention of turning back.
- Funeral
by Arcade Fire (2004)
I’m still finding it difficult to get my ears around this release. Approaching
roots music with a post-punk perspective, the 6 member strong Arcade Fire
(augmented by a large supporting cast) present resolutely romantic songs sung by
voices beaten but never broken. “My family tree’s losing all its leaves, crashing
toward the driver’s seat.”
- Singles 1995-97
by the Wedding Present (1999)
Pop music and rock’n’roll rarely merge in a satisfactory manner, but the melodies
and lyrics of the Wedding Present (recently revived) manage to lodge themselves
in your brain while sounding great turned up to 11. This compilation gathers 20
singles (some live, a few acoustic). Theirs is the sound you want to hear driving
around with the windows down, the brisk spring air reminding you that we’re all
about to get another chance.
- “Perfect Day”
by Duran Duran (1995)
A Lou Reed song on the band’s much-ridiculed 1995 covers album
Thank You. And while much of the album misses
its mark (especially in singer Simon Le Bon’s approach; the subtlety of Dylan’s
“Lay Lady Lay” and the paranoia of Elvis Costello’s “Watching the Detectives”
aren’t even acknowledged, let alone expressed), “Perfect Day” is astounding and
just about perfect. Chilly and foreboding, the band develops a shimmering Polaroid
of ironic detachment not even Uncle Lou milked from his deadpan observation of the
Biblical retribution visited upon the minutiae of the everyday.
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