Gone are the days when I could put on a record and know exactly how I felt (and would feel) about it. The best I can do after one listen now is to mumble "promising..." to myself. And even then I'm usually wrong.
It now takes me at least six listens to get a good handle on a record. Some don't become clear for months.
And then some just get crowded out by the other records that I can grok more quickly. Hence this post-Jaybee-bie catchup habit I've fallen into.
Since there's no reason to put you through the records I've not yet, ahem, "come to appreciate", I will limit this to those I've deemed worthwhile or better:
Papa Wemba: Mwana Molokai 1977-1997
I caught him on Sunday Night Live with Jules Holland and David Sanborn around 1989, and found him to be "catchy". Now that I've finally gotten this career overview - and a lot of other African albums in the meantime - I think he falls somewhere in-between artists like Franco and Ya Ntesa Dalienst and Le Maquisard.
The melodies and the guitar lines were simpler and sweeter, and the tempos not quite as frantic. This really brings out the beauty. In a word, poppier.
A-
Nas: Illmatic (1994)
Perhaps because it was considered a hip-hop classic, I shied away for a long time, given the extreme experiences provided by other classics like Enter the Wu-Tang. (Are you getting as big a kick as I am about a 65-year-old typing those words? Next, I'll be saying things like "Biggie" and "Dre"...)
But this one is nice and "flowy". The words lock in with the rhythm and there are nice snatches of actual melody. Exactly what I like.
It's also consistent - each song has a hook, and each one is a variation on a larger theme, which I take to be common decency in difficult circumstances.
Apparently, it was overshadowed by Biggie (see?) Small's Ready to Die, which also came out that year. Dilettante that I am, I prefer Nas to that very strong medicine the hip hop connoisseurs prefer.
A-
Cocteau Twins: Heaven or Las Vegas (1990)
With a gloss so thick, Mrs. Jaybee wasn't even sure they were singing in English. And they may as well not be - they're Scottish. This is shoe gaze for shoe gazers. But it is real purty. Enough to make me curious about how the songs would sound if done acoustically. Pretty good, I think.
But I don't see an Unplugged special in the past or future for them. So I must take the Peter Griffin position.
It's commendable that they are always going for the sublime. It's just they rarely get there.
B+
Dave Holland: Conference of the Birds (1972)
A fine, muscular free jazz record. Not too loose like Ornette Coleman is to my ears, and definitely not smooth like all too much fusion and later commercial jazz.
It's fast and dares you to keep up. Fine by me, as long as I can follow it. The playing is remarkable and gives the lie to the idea that they're just playing wingin' it. And the calm spots give you time to breathe.
A-
John Martyn: Solid Air (1973)
I thought this friend of Nick Drake's might wash the taste of Judee Sill out of Mrs. Jaybee's mouth. And she doesn't hate it. She even asks to hear it occasionally.
Between the vocals with a hint of religious ecstasy and a guitar he's not afraid to muck around with, John Martyn's music ends up muted, intense, and bluesy.
And not embarrassingly so, like all too many white artists who try things like this. It's even got a beat or two.
B+
Bleachers: Strange Desire (2014)
Positively Springsteenian in its drama, with an energy level set to "Cheerleader". The trouble is I never did like going to football games.
And due to this, what some might call consistency comes across as monotony. Succeeding at this level requires a single-mindedness of purpose in service of a worthy cause like partying (a la Andrew W.K. link) or anarchy (The Sex Pistols). Here, it's about teen angst. You'd have to be the Beatles to pull that off.
And thus, it's the quieter songs that stick with me.
A good record. If you're in the right mood, very good.
B+
And now it's on to 2023, where I'm already behind. John Coltrane, The Roots of Jazz Funk, Alvvays, and Rosalia are waiting for me.
