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| Martin Phillips 1963-2024 |
Okay, we're all sick to death of the debacle that was 2024. I'm sure 2025 will be better. Look how it's going already!
But before we completely finish with that awful year, I must belatedly recognize some records whose true worth went unrecognized by yours truly until, like, now. Much like, say, a country choosing its President, I failed to choose these records when it mattered.
Amy Winehouse: Back to Black (2006)
The only music I trust the British with is rock 'n roll, folk, and reggae. When they try to sing soul music the men are a disgrace. Amy does much better here.
She's got a great voice, the songs are good and the band is all over them. While I get the feeling that many women of color have done this before, with less monetary success, that's not Amy's fault.
The themes I pick up are that she's no good, her man's no good, love itself is no good, etc. (Alas, rehab is no good, either.) But she keeps your attention with great lines like What kind of f*ckery is this?
And she meant every word.
A-
Beyonce: Cowboy Carter (2024)
I typically confine my comments to my own musical purchases, but for this album - gotten by Mrs. Jaybee - I'll make an exception. There's not a bad song here, and few really soar. Even when I don't hear a great song I hear people working hard to turn it into a great record.
So is this a country album or what? I neither know nor care. Whatever you may think - or want to think - this is an excellent record. Her versions of "Blackbird" and "Jolene" are fine, and the duets with Miley Cyrus and Post Malone are great.
Anyone who actually listens to this record and concludes it's bad is nuts. Or worse.
Chappel Roan: The Rise and Fall of a Midwestern Princess (2023)
This sounds a bit like Olivia Rodrigo thanks to Daniel Nigro, who produced both records. But Roan is the more expressive singer. So expressive, in fact, at first the songs are indistinguishable from one another.
This led me to think I'd had my fill of this type of pop music, so I took a break. All that youthful energy in the summertime just made me tired. Not her fault.
When I returned this winter all those songs were patiently waiting for me to catch up. Each subsequent listen revealed more melodic details which gave each song its own identity. So that awful youthful energy paid off in the long run.
A-
The Chills: Brave Words (Expanded and Remastered) (2023)
The Chills spent the early part of the 1980s in their homeland, New Zealand, making legendary singles. In 1986, they pulled them all together and released the wonderful Kaleidoscope World, which I picked up in the fall of 2016.
I have fond memories of Election Day that year. The weather was sunny and mild, and I was off from work, so I spent the afternoon in my backyard listening to KW. Hilary was up by 5% and I assumed nobody would be stupid enough to change their vote because of Robert Mueller.
Now I ask myself, why, oh why do I keep buying Chills albums in election years? They promise so much and then reality dashes those hopes.
Their follow-up to this - Submarine Bells, one of my all-time favorites - is a bit more graceful, incorporating all of the above elements more organically. However, it's fun to hear all this sheer talent before it ripens into genius.
It's hard to love this record since the election. Harder still knowing that Martin Phillips died this year. But I keep playing it and it gets better and better each time.
I'd hoped for joy, but I'll settle for solace.
A-
Sonny Sharrock: Seize the Rainbow (1987)
I'd checked out this avant-garde jazz guitarist a couple of years ago and found him to be a bit slick. Here he decides to rock out.
At first, the opener ("Dick Dogs") sounds rather silly, with its heavy-handed power chords seeming to announce I TOO can rock! Now, jazz musicians are capable of many things, but rocking usually isn't one of them. Oh, they play the notes technically better than any rock musician can but, in doing so, take all the fun out of it. (Kinda like Sting.) So I braced myself for the worst.
Luckily, when it got to the solo parts Sharrock becomes himself and thus gets to have things both ways, sideways, up and down. In other words, six ways from Sunday. (That's means a lot.)
He's helped by a band that nimbly bypasses those moments when a rock cliche threatens to rear its empty head.
What we end up with is something very worthwhile if not quite brilliant.
B+
100 Gecs: 10,000 Gecs (2023)
Lots of beats for a not-quite-thirty-minute record. Lots of laughs, too.
I've never been a fan of sampling stomping Led Zep riffs a la Beastie Boys (although I think they got there first.) or the noisy use of noise ala the Sleigh Bells. But this young couple uses a larger palette, like throwing ska beats into the mix. Then they sew it all together into something almost coherent.
Fast, loud, and funny. There's something to be said for keeping things short.
B+
Ceremonial Washing of the Hands:
Now let's be rid of 2024 and try to bear 2025.
