Supergrass – Diamond Hoo Ha

I’ll bet you thought I forgot about Supergrass, didn’t you? Well, I actually did, but not so much in this blog, I actually forgot that they existed for most of the time between the 90′s release of their self-titled album and the 2008 release of their newest album, the awesomely-named Diamond Hoo Ha. So, we should probably discuss this thing before it’s too late:

Demonstrating their British sense of spacing album releases out, after 14 years of actively being an incredible band, this is only Supergrass’ sixth album. Come on, guys, Johnny Cash put out over 20 albums in just his first 8 years, at least meet us halfway huh? Either way, the band had apparently taken the gap between their life-changing self-titled album and this one to release one incredible album that I haven’t heard yet, and one stripped-down contemplative album that I also haven’t heard but am now very interested in. In the time between 2005′s Road To Rouen and Diamond Hoo Ha, the band underwent some difficulties. For one, the Coombes’ mother died, which is a tragic thing to have happen to any writer of songs. The studio they used for the album, which once a notable studio where David Bowie had recorded, had to practically be rebuilt to accommodate the recording, which makes me curious as to why the band couldn’t just record in a working studio, but oh well.

The other thing, possibly less tragic but nonetheless a very direct distraction: the bassist fell out of a window and broke his back. Yeah, that sounds like the start of a great Rock N’ Roll story, but it turns out Mick Quinn has a bit of a problem with sleepwalking. He walked out of a first story window and broke two vertebrae and probably thought a hospital stay would be a good idea. Two of the other founding members of the band (Gaz Coombes and Danny Goffey) were not too deterred, however, as they decided to go on the road, half to promote the upcoming album (which had been recorded prior to the accident) or just because they felt like making fun of the White Stripes, as a drum and guitar duo called “The Diamond Hoo Ha Men”, even going so far as to film a “mockumentary” of the experience that I doubt has come to America yet, but still. A little bit of the film can be seen here, and the band used bits of that to make their music video for the self-titled first track.

Either way, given the setbacks, I would have forgiven my favorite brit-pop rockers if they turned in an album of complete crap with “Diamond Hoo Ha Man” attached, as bigger bands have done worse, but in fact the album is really good all around, so no forgiveness needed! Apparently it’s not contrived from any of their more recent work, which I regretfully missed, and it’s certainly lacking (except for one song) that sort of “turning beautiful British melancholic tunes on their collective ear” sensibility when it came to bizarre chord progressions and adventurous tenor singing that the two albums before that contained. Thus, the only real way to compare it to any of Supergrass’ earlier work is that it’s a lot like their very first album, the wild teenage energy of I Should Coco being pushed aside for a more “mature” rock sound wherein the cheeky youth who was being busted for drugs in “Caught By The Fuzz” or crashing cars into walls in “All Right” is now a grown man for whom the drugs and cars are now a habit rather than a bit of fun.

I am not sure whether it’s intentional or not, but there is a mood cast over Diamond Hoo Ha that relentless points to vices, dangerous situations, and a kind of tiredness in Gaz’s voice where he sounds to be slurring over the night’s 35th drink. Still, layered over this, is a more pounding, rhythmic Supergrass instrument section, where the tunes are a little more standard and, well, boring in places, but the hooks are still there for the most part. In particular, “Bad Blood” has an amazing interplay between the vocal melody, the guitar counter-melody, and the bass-line even throws in another element to the tune rather than just add body to the rhythm. It’s moments like that one that really shine in this album, because there aren’t a whole lot of them.

Critically, the slurry, adult, kind of boring Supergrass have been getting a lot of flack for this album, but honestly I am fine with this thing, at least after about 5 listens. There is some variety to be heard, especially when my new-found love of David Bowie gave me kind of a “Oh I see what you did there” attitude with “Rebel In You”, which is less Kinks and more Bowie. Supergrass does “glam” really well, as they have demonstrated since the beginning, but without the actual pretense and kind of eyebrow-raising look that the glam rockers have always adopted. That’s just the thing, it’s really hard to fault Supergrass for anything, because they’re one of the few large groups that I feel have done it right. They started early with enough energy to set Godzilla on a rampage, and they matured their sound to melancholy rock magic in the very next album right around the time the singer broke the age of 20, and instead of being dragged down by predictable vices or tragedies worse than a hospital stay because of an honest accident, the band has continued on into a very comfortable middle age where they can be Hunter S. Thompson for an album before moving on to the next thing, which may be even better.

Basically, this album is worth a listen, if not for the first few tracks, which are all hits in their own right, than for the last few songs, the last of which seems to be an homage to their more traditional form of throwing out as many chords as they can whilst crooning. Supergrass is awesome, and I’m kind of glad that I realize that again when there are two more albums out there for me to find and enjoy. Until next time!

Beck – Modern Guilt

There is not a lot that I know about producer Danger Mouse, but his work seems to follow me around in my musical listenings of late. From turning Cee-Lo into Gnarls Barkley, to turning The Black Keys into crap, his touch is undeniable, marked by faux lo-fi (faux-fi, I now dub thee), “sparse” arrangements that tend to leave a lot of scattered bits everywhere, and annoyingly forgetable production.

He seems like a perfect match for Beck! Let’s see how that worked out:

Now, Beck’s been kind of on my less charitable side for about, oh, a decade. His release of the admittedly good Midnite Vultures was about the last time I really paid attention to him until he released The Information. Since then, the only album I have yet to hear is the supposedly excellent Sea Change, so we’ll leave that one out of this.

Basically, since Y2K failed to destroy any of our computers, Beck has been on somewhat of a downward spiral in terms of re-capturing the spirit of his early albums that made him such a success. The only thing I can say about albums like Guero and The Information is that they at least produced some memorable tracks in their wealth of songs (those albums were nearly 50 and over 60 minutes long, respectively). Modern Guilt is, by comparison, just over the 30 minute mark, and given that some of the reviews I have read for this album actually compliment that fact, you know we’re in for some trouble.

To be perfectly honest, I would love to just blame Danger Mouse for all this, since nothing he has produced has been very good (aside from Gnarls Barkley, but even then, I much prefer Cee-Lo’s solo work so take from that what you will). On the contrary, there are some studio tricks and textures to the music that are far more charming than the songs ought to be. Beck sounds in this release like he’s not even trying anymore. His voice is an afterthought, placed somewhere in the background, right behind the cymbals on the drum kit. In fact, the entire 33-or-so minutes sound like the whole thing is building up to a hit Beck album, so by the time the poppy “Volcano” ends (literally poppy, it sounds like there are pops in the tape), you may be left thinking “that’s it?”

Again, that is not to say there aren’t some amazing moments on this album, the nice double-snare beat in “Gamma Ray”, combined with the simplest guitar riff I’ve ever heard, should not fail to get the head bobbing. Interestingly, the guitar riff in this song is called a “spy guitar riff” in reviews, which leads me to another point about this album: it seems to be critically lauded by critics who have no idea what the album sounds like.

For one, hitting 4 staccato notes on a stale guitar does not a “spy guitar” make. Guitars in spy themes tend to be like slowed-down surf music, really reverby and punchy Fender guitars either playing notes slowly or quickly, but always with that sort of “ring” to them. It’s hard to describe even though I just did it perfectly, but even then, the axiomatic “spy guitar” sounds different than “Gamma Ray”, and anybody who gets a paycheck for more than 30 cents should know that.

By the same token, the entire album has been called by more than one source a “throwback to the garage band era of the 60′s” and that the production is very “old school”. Unless I’m entirely wrong about the “spy guitar” riff, in which case it can be included, I’m pretty sure there is 0% of this album that could be confused by anyone for a “60′s album”. It’s just Beck with more echo and all the manic DIY creativity replaced with boring production and admittedly infectious beats. Seriously, I forget what genre into which you’re supposed to blump the super-fast-trippy beat in “Replica”, but I know that genre is some off-shoot of techno, and since there is precious little other instrumentation in this song, you could basically call it a “techno” song, and by proxy, a “techno” album, and you’d be more accurate than calling it a “throwback to the garage band sound”.

Speaking of infectious beats, which I think I did at some point, my absolute favorite song in this set is the title track, and most of that is directed toward the beat, but it’s also got an actual discernable melody. There are little bleeps and bloops carefully placed after the vocal lines, and a really cool guitar hook placed right in the chorus, and really if the whole album took more of a cue from this particular song, we wouldn’t be sitting here talking about what a disappointment this album is.

Really though, I am not going to pretend that Danger Mouse’s production on this album adds any excitement, or that he’s totally to blame. Honestly, this album’s got bigger problems than that, and there’s one that stands head and shoulders above all: Beck, with all the power and glory of being the only “indie” artist who could potentially lend credibility to that reviled title,  is just not being the genius we all believed he was back in the 90′s. Some folk were upset that he did too much rapping for Guero, and they might be happier with this album since there’s no rapping, but that’s not the way in which Beck lost his way (remember “Loser”? Yeah, that was a rap song). The thing is, Beck could take an old toy recorder, a broken guitar with 3 strings, and a junk pile of useless objects and create a better album than Modern Guilt with it, and he doesn’t need Danger Mouse to do that either. He might possibly need Nigel Godrich, but the jury’s out on that one.

So, at the end of the day, I suppose about the only thing I have to say about Modern Guilt is thank goodness it’s only 33 minutes long.

Sparks – Exotic Creatures Of The Deep

Once again, as our time draws to a close, I feel it only prudent to bring up Sparks at least one last time. Today, as is our wont, we shall be talking about their newest album, released only last year, called Exotic Creatures Of The Deep:

This album, having been released recently, finds the band further exploring that orchestral/metal/rock/but-still-synthy-pop sound that they started somewhere around Lil’ Beethoven and Hello Young Lovers, which we covered some time before. This new iteration of the band’s seems to have been the most consistently successful, perhaps because this decade, for many people, was a decade so polluted with crappy music that those with particular taste have been re-awakened by groups like Sparks who were innovative long before any of us were born. At least, that’s what I like to think. Above all else, I think these albums have succeeded because they’re really good. This album is no exception, in fact it’s one of the most polished and entertaining albums the band has come out with yet.

That may not be immediately evident from the first “Intro” track, but I’m fond of it all the same. What better way to get love from listeners than to mix in a rather generous amount of repetitions of “Love me” in the song’s 1 and a bit minutes?

“Good Morning” brings the band back to its roots, in that Russell sings it in a high, almost dramatic falsetto while Ron pounds away at a very “Ron” type of piano. To give this song an infectious hook, there is a lovely warm synth part laid over the whole thing, punching away at its own version of the disco rhythm that goes on here, ultimately guiding the song into a finish that really  makes the song. Lyrically, it’s about being confused over the nature of the partner the singer found in his bed:

Good morning, I’m thinking
I must have been drinking
And said something clever
It must have been the best line from me ever

Thank you, God, for something rare as this
What surely must have been a holy night of bliss
Gratitude for having thought of me
I know your time is tight, and yet you thought of me

Good morning, you woke up
Got dressed up, hair messed up
While I fix you breakfast
I hope it’s just your laugh that is infectious

Oh how I love these guys. Seriously that’s only the tip of the 4 minute iceberg of musing on the identity and nature of the one night stand.

“Strange Animal” takes a rockin’ approach to dissecting human nature in a rather abstract way, and the song is complete with some snazzy sounding (if a bit over-produced) distorted guitar. I would post lyrics from it and talk about it further, but there’s like 8000 words in this song, so yeah. It’s clever and long, and that’s what you need to know.

A strong contender for champion in the over-populated expanse of clever Sparks song titles, “I Can’t Believe That You Would Fall For All The Crap In This Song” is possibly at least winner of “longest title”. This song has an awesome distorted bass-line to go along with its swing beat as the singer sings it high and proceeds to say things like “I want you and only you and only you my love” and then stating the song’s title as a taunt. It’s kind of a great anti-love song, and features a beautiful bridge. The distorted synth-bass-line and beat not only make this song, but they made Muse’s “Uprising” as well, as they’re basically the exact same tune. Seriously, check it out. Thing is, both songs remind me of the “Slam Shuffle (Zozo)” theme from a game called Final Fantasy 6 (previously “3″ in the U.S.) Call me crazy, but that whirring octave instrument is mainly what I’m referring to.

Speaking of old video games, another one I quite like is a ballad called “I’ve Never Been High”. The melody and instrumentation remind me exactly of that 90′s era of those high fantasy games where orchestras of synthesizers would play a 16 bit symphony and somehow manage to be better than pretty much all other music in my ears. Then again, I was raised on Nintendo and classical music, so you’ll forgive a dying man for his lapses into nostalgia. Lyrically, if you’re curious (I know I was), the song is about never being high despite being famous and in music. It’s sung with a tinge of regret that I can respect, as I definitely relate to all but the “famous” part of this song.

The stand-out rocking tune in this set is a contender for “best idea for a song ever”, and it’s called “Lighten Up, Morrissey“. Of course, while the idea of Morrissey lightening up is a wonderful ribbing to the angst-ridden lead singer of such bands as The Smiths and Morrissey, the band, Sparks are not actually being negative on the fellow at all. They are all good friends and the song is really about the singer not being able to woo a girl because he’s not as good in her eyes as Morrissey, so if he lightens up, as the singer pleads, things will work out in his favor. Still, every time I listen to Morrissey (which isn’t much, I can tell you), this is usually the phrase I am screaming into my velvet pillow before drawing the curtains and weeping.

Another amazing song is “This Is The Renaissance”, which evokes a very “rock opera” kind of feel, only without that sticky “Queen” film that the band tends to expel during and after every performance (weird, I know, but I am in no way a fan of Queen). Anyway, the synthesizer orchestration of this song is quite lovely, and some very no-nonsense lyrics really makes this an entertaining affair. I especially like how, at the end of the chorus, they refer to both pronounciations of the word.

There are a lot more songs of consistent “Sparks” quality to be found on the album, and I would encourage you to seek them all out. Personally, I am hoping to see this band at least once, especially if they ever come back to America, as they really put on an amazing show. In fact, the band put on 21 shows in 21 days (playing, in full and in correct order, all 20 albums that preceded this one, with the last show being the debut of the album) in order to prepare for the release of this particular album, which I would have loved to see. Of all the bands I’ve discovered this year, Sparks has got to be the best one, and if not, then I can’t remember the best one, which makes Sparks automatically the best one again. Confusing, I know, but this is all very important, I assure you.

Alice Cooper – Along Came A Spider

Well looks like it’s Halloween time (well, this is the entry for the 30th but you are probably reading it on the 31st), and by pure coincidence, I had selected an album that is about a serial killer and was done by one of rock’s greatest rock n’ roll trick-or-treaters:

This Halloween has actually been pretty horrifying to me, for my Zune has suddenly died for good. Apparently it’s a hard-drive failure, though we can never be sure. This coincides with a trip to Austin that I had to make for a show, and in driving there and back, I had to do the old-fashioned thing and actually listen to CD’s. This album was the only one I happened to grab that I haven’t written up yet (about 80% of the others were Johnny Cash albums, and yes I had already written about all of them), so in knowing I would be late-ish for today’s entry, I figured I might as well write about this album, since I have it and really like it and all.

If you didn’t know that Alice Cooper is still around and doing stuff, well, this album is conclusive proof of that. It’s his newest album, released just last year, and though I haven’t heard anything he’s recorded after the 90′s, apparently this album is better than all of them. In it, Alice tells the story of the Spider, a psycho serial killer who victimizes women by wrapping them up in silk, cutting off one of their legs, in an effort to construct a spider out of the legs or something. It’s not a very good plan, but plans that involve serial killering rarely are (see also: Dexter).

Musically, this album is pretty great. Now, I don’t know a whole lot about Alice Cooper after his hey-day in the 70′s and 80′s, but I do know that he apparently hasn’t been working with Bob Ezrin lately, and that means that he’s probably not “at his best” on this album. Despite that, this album is still full of fist-pumping hard rock beats, chunky electric guitars that only occasionally go into that paper-tearing cheesiness inherent in new-ish Metal. There are some pretty nice little tricks all over the place though, really you can tell that there is a lot of care that went into the production, in the opening track “I Know Where You Live”, the distortion is mainly carried by the bass as the guitar kind of takes a bluesier approach, and the riffs are all rock solid, and I do mean rock.

Unfortunately, in the production being really clean and gimmicky and given that Alice Cooper somehow obtained a kind of Weird Al timbre to his voice over the years, the whole thing, when viewed from the outside, may sound like a parody of itself. To listen to the second track, “Vengeance Is Mine”, you might just as probably be listening to Spinal Tap. Still, Alice Cooper isn’t out to genuinely scare, he never was, he’s out to entertain and uses a macabre, horror-themed cleverness to do it. It’s all burlesque, so to look at Alice Cooper through the eyes of someone who actually takes Metal seriously is probably not the best idea. Oh, and a note about “Vengeance Is Mine”: when I listened to it earlier today, I couldn’t help but notice that the guitar solo seemed extra busy and wanky, which was kind of odd. I figured there must have been a guest guitarist on this track, and sure enough, when I got home and researched it, I found out that it’s Slash.

As a theatrical piece, I really have to give this album some praise for its cohesion. The entirety of the thing, with the afore-mentioned tracks, and especially with later tracks such a “Wrapped In Silk”, “Catch Me If You Can”, and “The One That Got Away”, you can piece together what happened to the serial killer all throughout the story, yet the songs are all different and distinct enough to work out on their own, as the allusions to the story are just hints in the actual songs. No matter your opinions on the sound of the album or Alice Cooper in general, you have to give it to him that he can construct a theme.

Possibly the most interesting piece on this album is “Salvation”. Now, if you had no idea, Alice Cooper, well, the guy behind Alice Cooper, Vincent Damian Furnier, is a devout Christian. In quite possibly one of the greatest juxtapositions in rock n’ roll culture, one of the earliest “shock” artists who makes every effort to make darkness and death an entertaining romp, is not only a church-goer, but also an expert golfer.

Anyway, with the song “Salvation”, it’s more or less written like a standard song of redemption from someone who regrets their wicked ways, but the same hidden-meanings can be found between the lines of the song. Lines like “have I wasted a life just for fun?” and “someone died for me” are lines you may hear in any Christian song, but the great thing about this being an Alice Cooper song, particularly on this album, give both of those lines a wonderful new meaning. Anyway, I would personally say that the dude pulls of this song without it seeming too strange, but then again what do I know.

Anyways, the story comes to a conclusion after a really awesome song called “I Am The Spider”, wherein a few things are revealed about the killer, and it’s actually pretty cool if you’re familiar with some of Alice Cooper’s earlier characters. When adding in elements from the other stories, particularly “The One That Got Away” (which itself contains a dialogue between Alice Cooper and an almost-victim that is kind of hilarious to me), then the whole thing kind of makes sense.

I really love this album, it’s got a lot of dynamic production that makes it fun to listen to just about any time, and who doesn’t love hearing about serial killers on Halloween? Anyway, hope you have a good one, don’t eat too much candy.

Fleet Foxes – Fleet Foxes

Today we’re going to talk about one of the hottest, hippest, most critically acclaimed folk bands to appear out of Seattle in the past year or so, Fleet Foxes, and why I hate them:

Ok, ok, calm down kids, I don’t actually hate them. Far from it, I enjoy them on some level, which is why they’re on this blog. Bands I truly hate don’t usually wind up here because talking about them means that I have to actually listen to them. I don’t mind listening to Fleet Foxes, but if you are searching through the Rock/Pop section of your local corporate retail music chain, provided any of them are still carrying CD’s and not “Download Cards” so that you can get a terrible “digital” version of the album, then you might forget what point you were trying to make when you started this sentence. Oh yeah! When browsing a “rock” section, you might see these guys, because they’re hip right now, and the “folk” section of any given store either doesn’t exist or is woefully understocked.

There’s a simple reason for this. “Folk” music is popular nowadays when performed by beardy hipsters, possibly because mellow acoustic music with strange lyrics is really appealing while high? Either way, name even 1 real folk artist that died before Elliot Smith was even popular, and you’ll find a lot of head-scratching from the hip crowd, possibly because you confused them with your knowledge of archaic music, or because those greasy hipster bangs attract a lot of lice. Certainly, there is a beardy crowd out there that claims to enjoy folk music, but ever since all the real hippies either died or became too old to like music any more, so too has real folk music all but disappeared like the long hair on the middle of a hippy’s head. Instead, we get faux-folk by beardy people playing instruments older than Granddad (or designed to look that old), and Fleet Foxes are such a group:

Just look at those beards!

Of course, I’ve tread this ground before when talking about artists (see: Iron & Wine), and once again I must explain that, while the authenticity of this folk band is highly dubious, none of it matters when you’re listening to the album. Indeed, their beards didn’t scrape up against the microphones while recording, so appearance and intention kind of goes to the way-side as we analyze whether the group is actually any good.

To be honest, I can’t tell if the group is any good or not. There are some highlights to the album, like the song “Sun It Rises”, when it goes from acapella harmonies to booming strums of acoustic guitar and admittedly weak guitar melodies. The boomy bits are pretty appealing, though the harmonies are pretty shaky, and the band’s second attempt at wowing us with harmonies, “White Winter Hymnal” (as heard on Best Buy’s in-store radio for several months) is a bit better. The only problem with “White Winter Hymnal” is that it’s just a layered, polyphonic version of “Frère Jacques”, the children’s song. Again, the song builds to an instrumental swell, and that’s quite swell, but I can’t shake the stolen melody out of my head, thankfully the song isn’t so long.

“Ragged Wood” starts being the most promising song in the set, with a nice light shuffling beat, and a lovely melody, even if it sounds like it was recorded in a toilet, or in Phil Spector’s jail cell. Either way, near the song’s 2 minute mark, the beat drops out (well ok it hangs out in the right ear and is reduced to a single banana shaker), and then the song slows down to a ponderous single-chord bridge as the guitar chimes around a melody, and then the bass comes in (marking the first and last time anyone will notice there is a bassist in this band) and sort of ushers in this other beat that’s kind of complex, and I’m sure the vocals that come back in at this point are saying something profound, but the key to folk music is thus: when you want people to actually hear and connect to what you’re saying, turn down the damned echo.

Really, I’m not even talking about the lyrics in this album, because it’s clear that the band doesn’t want to draw any attention to them.

So yes, the first tracks don’t impress me much, but tracks like “Tiger Mountain Peasant Song”, which is just two acoustic guitars and a voice recorded from the top of a mountain, quite stand out to me as being snooz-tastic folk songs from the old school. “Meadowlarks” and the two songs that come after it are other examples, and those songs make up the last part of the album. I kind of wish the whole album were made up of those types of songs, but there’s a lot of Spector-ish stuff to wade through in order to get to them.

Honestly, it’s not that I don’t like echoey music, or music that utilizes harmonies on every note, even if it’s the same structure of harmony for every single song, but when it’s all combined in a kind of ho-hum chord structure with a predictable set of melodies and layered, reverbed vocals that sound more like someone trying to pronounce vowels than someone singing words, then my interest wanes quickly. That’s my whole problem with these “indie” guys, no matter how talented or how basically good the musicians are (and I am telling you Fleet Foxes are very good musicians, maybe), if the songs lack character, they’re going to lack appeal. I just can’t see myself humming a Fleet Foxes song, unable to get it out of my head (and seriously, I will hum anything), because they never stick there to begin with. Since starting this blog and deciding that I should write this band up, since I have friends that really dig them, I tried 4 or 5 different times to listen to the whole album and come up with something complimentary, and here it is:

Neil Young likes them.

So, there you have it, indie music fans. Another band that fails to impress me, either because they’re not trying hard enough or I’m too old to care. It doesn’t really matter, these guys are getting better reviews than The Beatles and they’re destined to perpetuate the beardy type of music that is favored by would-be neo-hippies. More power to them, at least it’s not irritating, and like I said, enough of the music is relaxing and melodious for me to not quite hate them.

Emmylou Harris – All I Intended To Be

As it has probably been stated before around here, I’m a little weird when it comes to female musicians. For whatever reason, there are very few of them I like, even fewer that I respect, and almost none that I admire. In particular, other than pop and all the other genres, I tend to despise Country female vocalists.

So let’s talk today about a female vocalist I not only really like, but also respect and quite admire:

Mind you, at first I’m sure my admiration for Emmylou Harris, the 62 year old rightful queen of Country, reaches back to when my Dad used to listen to the cassette tapes of hers that he had while learning her songs.

“I’ve always had a crush on Emmylou” my dad admits, “in fact your mother and I have an agreement that I can date her if I get the chance.”

Sure enough, looking at her from back in the day, I can agree, heck even now she’s a gorgeous lady. Still, what struck me about her wasn’t so much her looks or my dad’s pre-nuptual agreements, but her actual music. Emmylou’s the quintessential female vocalist when it comes to Folk/Country, she’s got this voice that’s just crystal clear, and her sense of melody is never to be denied, she can glide across these majestic tunes with an effortless grace; also, and this is most important, she has no Country twang.

Yeah, it’s in fact the non-Country-ness of her voice that makes her appeal so much to me. Female vocalists in Country music tend to go for this overly brash, tequila-soaked dirty cowgirl twang (I’d blame Reba McEntire for this but there are so many others), and it’s disgusting. I mean, Southern accents are bad enough, but having to effect them, and not even that well? Go to Hell, Sugarland, and please stay there this time.

No, Emmylou’s voice is that of an angel, if indeed I’m right in believing that angels are created by God specifically to sing His praises. That voice is featured quite heavily on All I Intended To Be, if you can believe that.

The album is Emmylou’s newest, and easily the best Country album of last year (ok, so more like the only Country album I heard last year, so what). It follows hot on the trail of about a million other things she’s been doing lately; apparently the girl is in high demand as a vocalist (surprise) and seems to spend more time helping her friends than herself, which I can support. The album is rather long, with 13 full-sized tracks, each one either slow or mid-tempo and extremely relaxing. Most of the tracks feature acoustic instruments, but ‘lectric guitars find their ways in there sometimes, but like Emmylou’s voice, the instrumentation is absolutely void of any kind of twang or other cheeseball antics that appeared in every other Country album of late.

The actual songs are a mix of Emmylou’s masterful songwriting and some… unusual covers. Well, not all of the covers are unusual, in fact a particular favorite of mine is “Moon Song” by Austin, Texas’ own Patti Griffin (not sure if she’s really from there, but they love claiming her). The song tells it from the perspective of a poor girl who has been left alone by her love, and the song never states why (my theory is that the person has died and this is more of a “denial” kind of song), and the moon keeps showing up to follow her home:

Waited for you till the snow fell down
Over my skin like a thin nightgown
Waited for you but you never came around at all
Waited for you till they pulled the plug
Bartender emptied out his big tip jug
They swept all the floors
Vacuumed the rugs and went home
Drank all I could swallow
Now the moon’s gonna follow me home

There is a lot of drinking in this song, which figures, if indeed it was written by someone from Austin. Either way, that is a nice cover, and another nice cover is a tune you can usually hear at Starbucks (at least I’ve caught a note of it from time to time), called “Hold On”. The song was written by a songwriter gal called Jude Johnstone, and in my constant need to tie every artist back to The Man In Black, I will mention that she also wrote “Unchained” which he popularized. Anyway, “Hold On” is a decent song, lyrically (it does rhyme “desire” and “fire” which is a cardinal sin of songwriting unless you’re, well, you know who), but the melody is probably the catchiest thing on the album. The way Emmylou commands that chorus of only two words is mesmerizing, and unlike most other Country songs, you actually want this one to repeat the requisite 240 times before the song’s end.

The unusual cover in this album is something called “Broken Man’s Lament”, which is a tune written by Mark Geronimo, who is a rather obscure poet/singer-songwriter/trucker from North Carolina. That’s right, a trucker poet wrote this song, and it kind of shows:

I was once a broken man
I was once a broken fool
Lost my wife and children
To one basic broken rule
Now I live my life in silence
Though I’m not quite in a shell
I drink and listen to that song
A whiter shade of pale
Oh, a whiter shade of pale

See then the song traces his journey, in ballad form, through getting married, being a shade tree mechanic, having his wife leave him a “Dear John” letter, and all that…. wait a minute! Yeah, Emmylou’s singing a ballad from the viewpoint of a man. I… kind of can’t figure this out. I mean, at first I thought that she wrote it, because she’s pretty dang good at writing songs (see “How She Could Sing the Wildwood Flower” for an amazing song about The Carter Family’s beginnings), but I was wrong. This is a song written by a man, about a man, sung by one of the most feminine voices in female singing. I still don’t understand it, other than that it actually is a really good song, maybe she decided to sing it just so confused folk like me could be having this discussion about it. I don’t know.

Either way, this album is excessively brilliant, though regular yee-haw Country fans, damnable creatures they are, will probably find it a bit on the “where are the jokey songs or the God Bless America songs” side of folk. Still, those of us who appreciate music made by amazing musicians and whose ears appreciate a silver-haired woman with a golden voice, this album is a must-have and comes with my highest recommendation.

Wait, that almost sounded like a review. Where’s my paycheck?

The Presidents Of The United States Of America – These Are The Good Times People

Whew! What a trip, hours and hours of driving, over 600 pictures taken (about 100 good ones, not a bad average really for a concert), and two incredible bands rocking the world and beyond.

Well, I’m back now, only to discover that my Zune doesn’t know how to sync with my computer to let the thing know that my subscription is indeed NOT expired and that I’m still paying my $15 a month, so now my Zune won’t play my freebie downloads. I guess I’ll have to figure out how to fix that when I get a chance, but until then it’s time to talk about an album that I actually ripped from the CD myself, since that’s all I can listen to without a bunch of bother.

Hey, remember The Presidents Of The United States Of America? Did you know they came out with an album last year? Well, here it is:

So exactly how are PUSA doing nowadays, coming out with an album nearly 15 years after their inaugural (eh heh) release? The critics would tell you not-a-so-good, but I say it’s-a-plenty-good.

Of course, of course, it’s not the kind of album the self-titled was, but I’d say it’s probably better than II, but only by virtue of having a little more substance and more “interesting” material than just goofy, lo-fi fun. Indeed, the band never really went back to the kind of chunky sound they used for their debut, and thus this album, like the others, is too polished to have that sort of character going for it. This isn’t to the music’s detriment though, if you’re a PUSA fan, this album should be great, if not a little surprising.

We start off with a song that is kind of “standard fare”, if there is such a thing, with a really catchy subsonic number called “Mixed Up S.O.B.“, which features a video directed by Weird Al (being that, despite him parodying their already humorous style, those guys are the best of friends). The song itself is catchy, fast, cleverly written, and it all boils down to a great line, “She’s a mixed up son of a bitch”. The song’s a little hard to follow, lyrically, because the character of the song dies in the first verse, but the song just keeps on going. It’s like a country song in reverse!

Speaking of a country song, there’s a really great, largely acoustic number on this album called “More Bad Times” (a wonderful counter to the album’s positive-thinking title), which isn’t so much “country”, but I don’t know, it reminds me of something that could be a country song. Here are some lyrics:

You never had rabies
You never gained weight
You never drank poison
You watched what you ate
You never came home with a terrible scar
You never so much as put a scratch on my car
You never got measles
You never got gout
You never got dizzy
And you never fell out
You never suggested we all play charades
You never picked up any live hand grenades

You twisted your ankle
I carried you
You got a divorce
So I married you
You fell off a cliff
So I buried you
I wish there were more bad times to see you through
I wish there were more bad times

It has it all! A couplet rhyming scheme (I think), lyrics about how great this person is, with of course a totally non-chalant mention of the same person dying, and then the little redemptive line in wishing there were more “bad times”. I’m quite impressed with this song, as far away from the typical “PUSA” sound as it strays (for goodness’ sakes, it’s got vocal harmony that’s actually really good in parts!)

Following that is a musically confusing song about falling in love with a miserable French nihilist (“French Girl”), which is also kind of great. That is then followed by an actual country song if there ever were one in “Truckstop Butterfly”, which hearkens back to the oldest, most treasured Presidents tradition: making allegories about love by singing about insects. It’s like coming home, really it is.

Another thing you might have noticed about this album, even if I didn’t mention it or anything, is that The Presidents have a different guitarist now. Long-time veteran (read: sole user) of the “guitbass”, Dave Dederer has been replaced by a usurper called Andrew McKeag. Andrew is credited as being a “guitbass” player, but I don’t know, it sounds an awful like a real guitar at points. I guess I still have a problem imagining how these modified instruments are supposed to work. Either way, a song like “Ghosts Are Everywhere” contains some really good instrumentation for the fact that apparently there are only 5 strings being played between the 2 guitbass/bassitarists in the group.

Just in case you thought that balloon on the album cover was some kind of accident, there’s another little ballad I quite like called “Loose Balloon”, which tells the story of a balloon that a kid loses and the kid cries about it like a moron, and the song explores pretty much all the thoughts about a loose balloon that someone who was possibly high could come up with (space travel makes an appearance, if you didn’t know).

There are actually a whole lot of songs on this album, and pretty much all of them are good. I will say that, even on an album I would consider “touching a lot of bases (basses?)”, PUSA doesn’t mind making an album of 14 songs that kind of blend together if you aren’t paying close attention. Well, songs like the very last one, “Deleter”, are hard to ignore. “Deleter” is an over-the-top funk/soul number featuring a female backup singer who takes over lead vocals at one point (her name’s Fysah Thomas, for those keeping score), a horn section, and a really kickin’ beat, and the song’s 3 minutes are about half of what I would have liked to hear, man what a kickin’ tune.

Either way, don’t listen to those critical fogeys, this album is a lot of fun, and its only flaw is that most of us have heard the band’s amazing debut and yeah this album isn’t a unique and exciting artifact of popular music like the debut, so sue it, right? It’s like the album’s cover says, these are the good times, people, go enjoy life and music and concerts and fancy cameras and fun while you can! Don’t worry about all this “well it isn’t as good as it used to be” stuff, it’s all good except when it’s bad, and even when it’s bad, it could get worse. I don’t even know what this diatribe’s about, I had better cut it off before I start making sense. Until then!

The Mars Volta – The Bedlam In Goliath

Ok, ok, maybe I was a little too harsh on The Mars Volta’s new album. I guess when you combine just recently learning about a band that you like suddenly going “pop” just to piss off fans with a looming sense of “man I don’t have that much time to write my blog entry today”, then you may feel tempted to make your writeup for the day a 1200 word hate letter to a band that neither knows nor cares about your stupid blog.

So, in light of this, let’s talk about my favorite The Mars Volta album:

Now, unlike with the artist James Blunt, who decided to call his album Back To Bedlam despite his sound being anything but boring and organized, The Mars Volta actually aren’t the total opposite of the definition of “bedlam”. In fact, this album title is just about the perfect description for the sounds you’re about to have imposed upon you.

However, I’m not going to go into the sound just yet, because I can not talk about this album without bringing up its fantastical, highly dubious, yet awesome back-story.

At some point, while touring with disgraced pop band The Red Hot Chili Peppers, the guitarist for The Mars Volta, Omar, bought Cedric, the singer, an ancient Ouija board as a gift, like you do. Well, just like a very special episode of The Brady Bunch, turns out that ancient, mystical relics are not things to be trifled with. The Ouija board, which called itself “Goliath” through a series of “soothsaying” rituals that the band did after shows which probably involved a lot of “You’re moving it! *titter*” “No, you’re moving it! *giggle*”, proceeded to make the band’s new album wrought with complications when its “demands” were not met.

Among other things, the magic curse on The Mars Volta caused tracks to disappear, Cedric’s shoes to cause him injury requiring surgery just for walking like normal in them, and for the engineer of the fledgling album to run away from the studio screaming something about the band wanting to hurt people with their music. Well duh, engineer, we’ve known that for 3 albums already.

Anyway, finally someone has the guts to defy the dark powers of Parker Brothers, break the bastard in half, and bury in a location known only to that person and whoever he blurts the location to next time he’s drunk. The curse ceased, and production continued until the band finally had its album, which is mainly composed of songs about “Goliath” and various scraps of poetry attached to it.

So after all that trouble, is the album good? Oh, you bet it is.

The Bedlam In Goliath stands out to me as Mars Volta at its rockingest, and that’s kind of where they need to be, now that we’ve heard their “pop” offering. The album starts strong and doesn’t quit, only slowing down for a couple of genuinely entertaining slow numbers (as opposed to the extended periods of water dripping and bird-calls found in the previous albums).

The first song, “Aberinkula” (continuing the band’s theme of using nonsense for song titles) drops you right into the middle of the action and you’d better be prepared to rock out or else things are not going to go well for you. The song switches between a chorus that might as well be its own drum solo, and some really good kind of mystical Middle Eastern sounding stuff provided by the effects-heavy guitar and that awesome saxophone playing. The song only tarries for about 5 minutes before you realize it was just the introduction to the second song, starting now.

Yes, without a single pause, “Metatron” (love that title) begins its 8 minute journey right into the freak-out portion of your brain. Interestingly enough, despite the sheer complexity of this song looming like a cliff above us inferior musicans, the song is largely based around 2 chords. The journey to switching between those two chords is quite a harrowing one, though, incorporating rhythm changes and counter-rhythms that kind of screw with the original beat, and this is all coming from the same drummer. It’s quite possible at this point that the singer is singing about something, but I have listened to this album dozens of times without caring, particularly when I’m more concerned with the laser fight of guitar noise that goes on at the song’s half-way point. This is simply my way of appreciating music.

By the time the 2nd track ends, you almost feel like the album is done, but it’s only just started. Good ol’ Progressive Rock bands and their desire to fill every disc with as much music as possible. Anyway, “Ilyena” starts soon and it’s got much more of a groove than the previous songs, and thus is kind of a break from the pummeling, but that’s only to prepare you for the pummeling to come.

“Wax Simulacra”, the Grammy-award winning song-built-around-a-drum-solo, is so much rock condensed into 2 1/2 minutes that it should be illegal to distribute without 8 additional minutes of indie rock to even it out, but luckily for us, The Mars Volta don’t follow those kinds of laws. Nope, it’s 2 1/2 minutes of “holy crap”, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Well, ok, “Goliath” comes close to the other way I would have it. This song is much more melodic than what we’ve heard so far, I am convinced. In fact, the song sounds a little bit more like The Mars Volta’s old band, if they would have borrowed Rage Against The Machine’s beats for the verses and Tom Morello’s pedal board for the vocals. Yes that isn’t a completely insane simile. Either way, this funky song contains one of my favorite lines in any song: “I’m startin’ to feel a miscarriage comin’ on”, and this is after a lot of random noises which is kind of great.

In case you’re tired of rocking out by now (wuss), we get about a 2 1/2 minute break with the slowed-down but still oppressive and heavy “Tourniquette Man” before moving on to “Cavelettas”, which is kind of like a punk song, only much faster, much more inclined to have weird sound effects accompanying strange time signature changes, oh and the whole thing is 9 minutes long. I guess it’s… not really a punk song at all, is it?

“Agadez” is the second “slower” song of the album, but only because it’s not really, really fast. It might at this time, or a few songs ago, that the album might start wearing on you. This is totally understandable, after all, more drums have been thrown at you in the first song than there are on most albums, and the average listener is not going to last through an hour of that. It’s kind of like the opposite of Late Album Slow-down, the album is too much rocking, so I won’t judge you for not remembering any of the later songs on the album, I sure don’t.

I do know that “Askepios” is kind of a 5 minute long dramatic chord behind held against another drum solo, which then switches to an extremely slow portion with dramatic diminished bits before moving on to the next drum solo. I like it, don’t get me wrong, it’s just so dramatic, also I hate the word “appetite”, and it gets a lot of play in this song.

I kind of regret that this album goes on forever, because if you skip the rest of it to move on to Miley Cyrus or something, you might miss a genuinely good song like “Ouroborous”, which is about as straight-forward a rock/metal song as Mars Voltas tend to get. It’s also got a series of guitar solos that sounds a little bit less like the guitarist genuinely hates guitars (which he does, I’m not even joking).

Coming sort of close to the end is another 9 minute epic called “Soothsayer”. This one utilizes crowded town street noise and violins for the first part, apparently the recording of these random locations is profound in some way, but we’re a little late in the album to be concerned with that.

Finally, we end this 75 minute adventure with “Conjugal Burns”, which is a good song in its own right, perhaps a little too screwed by effects for the guitar to sound pleasing, but pleasing is not what Mars Volta is about. They’re about attacking, and this song does that, particularly after the 2 minute mark. I would say more about the song, and the album in particular, but holy man, I have been listening to this album for an hour and 15 minutes now, so I think I have kind of exhausted all of the human synonyms for “this album rocks”. Basically, it does, it rocks for a very, very long time. There really aren’t a lot of resting stops in this album compared to the others, so for that reason it might be best to be broken up into multiple listens, that is, if you’re a wuss. Which you are.

Neil Hamburger – Sings Country Winners

Tonight’s the night! Every year, my favorite stand-up comedian, “America’s Funnyman” Neil Hamburger, comes to Texas to regail his captive, usually disease-ridden audience with his unique brand of “humor on a budget”, and he’s stopping in Dallas tonight. I figured, since this is a once a year thing and he’s only made one album of music, that I should talk about that today, aren’t you lucky?

Now, Neil has plenty of great comedy CD’s that you can probably buy from his unofficial website (run by some crazy lady who can’t stop talking about her dogs), but this is his first album of actual music, a “personality” album if you will. Like Telly Savalas, Leonard Nimoy, and Bruce Willis before him, Neil has crafted a loving collection of originals and a few classics for the discerning customer who decorate their livingrooms with the finer things in life. Unlike these other artists, however, Neil has taken the extra step and made this not only a quality Country album, but even kept it in the more old-fashioned (and thus better) style, using some really top musicians.

The songs are half-way between being funny and genuinely insightful in that kind of way that only satire can provide, and every single song is meticulous as far as the instrumentation goes. In fact, I kind of regret that the “Too Good For Neil Hamburger Band” incorporating some great names like Prairie Prince (formerly of Jefferson Starship) and Rachel Hayden who performs with Todd Rundgren and also does her own smashing solo music, have not gone out to do their own more “serious” Country music, because this is seriously great stuff.

It starts with “Three Piece Chicken Dinner”, which is a great little ditty about comedians not being paid enough. It becomes immediately apparent that Neil’s gruff, kind of nasally timbre is not so suitable for standard singing, so he kind of sing-talks his way through the whole thing, of course, injecting his personality into every note, so that the listener will not be disappointed. He frequently performs this song live, so hopefully we’ll get to see that tonight!

The second song, “The Recycle Bin”, is a clever song by any standard, comparing things that people should not throw into recycle bins (Styrofoam, potted plants, even sugar-free birthday cakes) to more abstract ideas (a career, a divorce). It’s as much a foul-mouthed berating to the pricks that do this kind of stuff as it is a touching song on the personal failures of a man whose only crime was not hitting it big in the entertainment industry.

“Please Ask That Clown To Stop Crying” features Rachel Hayden on vocals for the chorus, playing the part of a disheartened 7 year old girl. The song is super slow and follows Neil’s narrative about an especially sad clown inadvertently ruining a little girl’s party with his tears. Of course, the song has a twist ending, and things wind up all right in the end, which is more than I can say for most Country songs.

One of the other hits on this album is “Jugtown”, a cover originally written by someone I have forgotten (sorry!) It’s more of a rockin’ song than what has been on the album so far, featuring some great electric guitar work. The song is an interesting ditty about a guy whose father found solace at a place called “Jugtown” where “lots of past is drained from the glass”, and where everything is made better. It’s kind of an interesting view on alcoholism, if you look at it, and it’s interesting to hear such a sympathetic take on the subject.

Then we get an anti-patriotic song, featuring an excellent march cadence, in “How Can I Still Be Patriotic When They’ve Taken Away My Right To Cry?”, winner of the prestigious “longest title to be written on here” award. The song is funny, (come on, how can a song containing puppies being jettisoned out to space by a cold, unfeeling government not be?), but contains enough good points against how this country is run, that I would rank this easily above other attempts to be political by musicians. The line:

They took away my dreams
When they allowed advertising in the night sky

…is a legitimately good line! This whole song is good, I was kind of stunned at this point that I will still enjoying the thing so much, myself, and I’m a huge Neil Hamburger fan!

The next track is “At Least I Was Paid” which is another great track about how comedians don’t get paid very much (except for the ones that aren’t actually any good), but Neil makes a positive message out of a tragic one, saying that “No matter how low your pay, at least you can say, at least I was paid”. He makes some points as well about workers who are much worse off due to being Egyptian slaves or sweatshop children. This song contains some great solos from the band, as well!

“Thinkin’ It Over” is a 3/4 time minor song, apparently written by John Paul Jones, formerly of Led Zeppelin. I could be wrong on this one but I’ll be buggered if I’m going to go over and check. Anyway, the song is about contemplating suicide, and the subtle references to “disappointing all those people” makes me think that there’s a subtle meaning behind this song for Neil. Truly a man of mystery.

Winding down, we then get the snappy “Garden Party II”, which might be a sequel to a song he’s done before? I am not sure, but it’s basically a description, in song, about how his shows usually go. It even contains a reference to his legendary “Cranberry Sauce” joke, which you should be familiar with by now if you’ve seen the man’s shows on DVD such as The World’s Funnyman, which is a great performance and should be purchased for yourself and all your loved ones.

We are then treated to a real blast from the past, the infamously-canceled “Zipper Lips” routine makes a return as “Zipper Lips Rides Again”. Honestly, I don’t have Neil’s earliest albums, so even I can’t really describe this idea to you, so we’ll skip it.

Finally, we come to a stunning number, “The Hula Maiden”. Tucked away as kind of a surprise, this Hawaiian-flavored Country number actually presents some strange and kind of weary emotional moments. There’s a real enigma in the performance of this song, and Neil just may be performing outside of himself for some part of it. It doesn’t have a lot of jokes in it, other than just being what it is, but that’s good enough for me!

Anyway, this is undeniably the best “Personality” album I have ever heard (mind you, I have not yet heard William Shatner’s famous works yet). Not only are the jokes and themes entertaining and familiar to Hamburger fans, but there is an insanely high degree of quality and perfection to the production of the album, almost more than there needs to be. Either way, long after the jokes aren’t that funny anymore, and Neil has moved on to his new set of Michael Jackson jokes (a recent incident has caused him to have to re-write most of them), the music will still be good enough for a listen every now and again. I couldn’t help myself, of course, I had to buy this on CD and the coveted “vinyl” format all the kids are talking about, and if you happen to catch Neil in Texas in the next couple of days or Ireland for the next couple, you should pick up this album, or just order it from this crazy lady. I assure you you’ll get your product. Until then, adieu!

Buddy Guy – Skin Deep

If you’re going to talk about the Blues with someone who has only a passing interest in the genre, it’s still rather likely that they’ve heard of Buddy Guy. Perhaps it’s all those guitar festivals that he attends, maybe it’s just because his performances are so memorable, or maybe it’s because he has one of the coolest names ever, who knows? It certainly can’t be because he’s one of the greatest Blues men of this or any other time, no people usually don’t notice that:

This is Skin Deep, Buddy’s newest album, and in my opinion, the best one since Damn Right, I’ve Got The Blues, though there are literally dozens of albums he’s done that I have yet to hear, so don’t take my word for it.

Skin Deep does what very few Blues albums do, in that it starts off with some jammin’ hits, but by the time you’re at the end of the album, you’ll be thinking some pretty deep thoughts about the destiny of one of the most beloved (by people who aren’t stupid) genres of American culture. Not too bad for a man in his 70′s now, eh?

I would defy you to listen to the first song, “Best Damn Fool”, and tell me that’s a man in his mid-70′s playing those ripped-up guitar solos and singing this vibrant song. Honestly, I’m in my mid-20′s and I could only hope to have half of this man’s energy. The lyrics are amazing too, dirty, funny, and all Blues:

I’m the one and only, I’m the one man that you won’t forget
I’m the one and only (Buddy Guy, that is) I’m the one man that you won’t forget
I can make a bulldog kiss a pussycat
I’m the best damn fool you ever met

I understand that a lot of this album features Derek Trucks, notable musical child of one or more of the Allman Brothers, and that’s just fine, he’s a pretty good guitarist. It’s his wife, Susan Tedeschi, that I am kind of hesitant about.

Indeed, Susan joins Buddy Guy in singing the next track, “Too Many Tears”, and I don’t know what it is about her vocal delivery that rubs me the wrong way, so I won’t serve up any real criticism of it, except to say that it rubs me the wrong way. Still, if this blohg is any indication, you’ll notice that I’m highly picky about female vocalists, I still can’t explain why.

“Lyin’ Like A Dog” is one of those slow Blues-by-numbers songs (my favorite of which is Weird Al Yankovic’s “Generic Blues”), and I do love this song, particularly for its interesting way of treating the age-old problem of women doing someone wrong. Basically, he blames his partner’s infidelity on a lack of self-not-giving-a-damn-about, and seeks to help her out with that, it’s very forward-thinking and psychological for a Blues song, quite impressive!

“Show Me The Money” is a nice mid-tempo number about how women are always looking for money. It features some dialogue against the mid-song guitar solo between Buddy Guy, and a certain female backup singer. This song is pretty great, mainly for the line “The only thing better than money/ is a pile of that cold, hard cash”. I love Buddy Guy’s lyrics for this reason.

After this kind of “hit-maker” sequence of songs, the album takes a turn toward the profound with “Every Time I Sing The Blues”. It’s in a minor key, first off, which gives it that sense of importance (Blues often are major key, you see), and it’s a dissertation on why someone would want to sing the Blues, and Buddy enlists the help of guitar legend Eric Clapton to help explain. It’s an awe-inspiring song if you’re into the Blues at all, and if you aren’t, why are you reading today’s entry?

“Out In The Woods” is an interesting song that combines Buddy’s electric lead with Derek Truck’s acoustic slide guitar, at least that’s what I remember reading, information on this album is so scarce on the internet, and the liner notes are all the way over there. The song is about someone who lived in the woods all his life, and one of the lines says that all the crocodiles and bears and such know him by his name. Why would a wild animal know your name? Do you go around introducing yourself to all the animals? Such a mystery is this outdoors life of his.

“Hammer And Nail” takes a bit of a turn back to the cheeky blues where the whole thing leads up to a “stinger” line (a favorite way for Buddy Guy to convey his bluesy messages). Yes, every verse in this funky classic ends on “You can’t beat that with a hammer and nail”. Sometimes writing about Blues albums is too easy, that’s why I don’t do it all that often.

Skipping ahead a little, the album tries to take you into a sentimental direction with the song “Skin Deep”, which I guess is the point of the whole album. The song is about treating each other right, regardless of color, you see, because color is “skin deep”. I have to admit, and maybe it’s because of the simplistic nature of the Blues or perhaps it’s Buddy’s age, but this song is so very hard to take seriously because it’s so riddled with clichés that have been in service for centuries now (seriously, “don’t judge a book by its cover” makes an appearance in the text of the song). So, say what you will about it, this song didn’t do much for me.

Now, “Who’s Gonna Fill These Shoes” is a song that really moved me. Buddy makes it apparent that the Blues are going away, and that nobody’s really around now to fill those shoes. It’s not only a historical lesson on how the Blues got started, but it also presents a sad realization (whether knowingly or not) that Buddy is among the last in a great generation of amazing Blues singers. Who is going to fill those shoes? Man, I can’t think of anyone who’s still going that isn’t a senior citizen, and that’s kind of distressing.

“Smell The Funk” is the kind of title for a song that makes me want to withhold what the song is actually about, because I can.

Finally, the album ends with a song that I consider to be one of the most amazing Blues songs ever to be written. Not just for its melodic quality or lyrical content, but just the very essence of the song “I Found Happiness” blows my mind:

I finally found out what I’ve been looking and waiting for
And there ain’t too damn much else I have to say
Hey, I finally found out what I’ve been looking and waiting for
And there ain’t too damn much else I have to say
Except… she’s just like a fitness machine, and we work out every day

That’s right, an honest-to-God anti-Blues song. If that doesn’t signify the End Time of the Blues, I don’t know what will.

I know what will signify the end of another album writeup here at Album Du Jour, so please join us tomorrow!