You ever have one of those dreams where you're walkin' around in the fog? Outside? Fog. Inside? Fog. I figure it my brain's attempt at simulating my current state of confusion and/or emotional claustrophobia.

Very often the fog will only occur during the "connecting segments" of the dream. In the transition between the scene where I'm waiting at city hall to place my vote in the all-important meter maid election and the just-scratched-my-Bentley's-paintjob vignette...I'm walking down a tree-lined suburban street so choked with fog that the streetlights are almost completely obscured. During this walk I become aware of bits of conversation emanating from the front windows of the homes I'm passing. The fog is of course damping the sound, so I can't quite place what I'm hearing: a cry of anguish or of sexual joy, a slammed door or a gunshot, a ringing telephone or a doorbell.

I've come to think of the electro portion of the electro-acoustic music that comprises Thirsty Ear's Blues Series as the soundtrack for my foggy dream sequence. But Celestial Mechanix, DJ Spooky's remix project, is a foggy dream sequence of its own.

Using the entire Blues Series (which is up to 30 releases) as source material, DJ Spooky has created his own interpretation of that unique body of work. The groove is deep and is punctuated by looped and twisted up phrases pulled from their musical origins. A repeated William Parker bassline becomes magnified when given this treatment. And isn't there something slightly recursive about a looped Even Parker phrase? It all contributes to a fiercely funky listening experience...that somehow echoes Miles' In A Silent Way, a few Bill Laswell projects and maybe even some Arto Lindsay.

Disc two of the collection contains an 80-minute club mix of the Blues Series material. This is how DJ Spooky would spin this stuff in a club setting. Not as weird as the remixes but still compelling (and kinda makes me wish I had one of those kidney-shakin' subwoofers in my car.)

When I woke up it occurred to me that I was more concerned about the "mystery sounds" coming from the fog than the actual stories being presented to me by my brain.

Hmmm...maybe that dream made sense after all.

Lots of people bought their first Patti Smith record back in 1978. Easter was hard to ignore. It had the hit song ("Because The Night"), the provocative cover photo, and a collection of majestic and scary rock & roll (maybe not as scary and majestic as the brilliant John Cale-produced Horses, but still every bit as good as the rock rags suggested.)

So now, all these years later, rock's punk poet laureate comes out with Trampin'. It's one brazen slap in the face. What's immediately noticeable is the sound. The contrast with today's super-compressed & hermetically sealed bombast could not be more stark. Trampin' was constructed with all the important parts of the rock food pyramid: guitar, bass, drums, organ. All of 'em unadorned and ready to apply full torque.

"Jubilee" grinds and stomps out of the gate, declaring the need to celebrate life and liberty (and all that that entails.) There's a short 'rest period' with the passionate ode to mothers and motherhood ("Mother Rose") before the snarling "Kick Out The Jams"-style riff of "Stride Of The Mind". Who sez gettin' old has to be boring?!

The scary dirge of "Cartwheels" (think "Venus In Furs" updated) bumps up to two (so far) the count of songs-about-family...and manages to disprove the notion that rockers who have a family must get all mini-van on us. The lyrics (written for Patti's daughter Jesse Paris Smith) are tender and hopeful, but welded to some ominous sonics.

Ah, but what would a Patti Smith record be without a 'message' or two? In truth, much of the album is political...but I suspect that listeners will perceive it as didactic (or not) depending on their particular leanings. In any event, the searching "Gandhi" and the epic "Radio Baghdad" are intense and thought-provoking.

The title track closes the album: a simple piano and voice arrangement of the old spiritual featuring daughter Jesse at the keys. An amazing and inspiring end to a record that pulls no punches while tossing emotions at will: joy, sadness, rage, love and anger. Mix these things together, distill 'em down and you almost come up with the essence of what it means to care about the world...no matter what side you're on.

Although they apparently didn't have the decency to create their own bill, instead attaching it as a rider to the year 2005 defense authorization bill. The maximum fine for incidents of 'indecency' has been increased to $275,000.

This one part of the American political system has always bothered me: the game of political chicken that is the attachment of unrelated amendments to bills. This particular bill passed 99-1 because, hey, who wants to be "Against Decency"? It's a can't-lose vote for any Senator.

What really bugs me about this 'decency' stuff is a lack of clear and consistent standards. Howard Stern is fined for speaking of a particular topic and heavy fines are levied. Oprah brings up similar material and what happens...?

Nothing.

I'd write to my senator but, honestly, I don't think it'll matter.

One of the most bittersweet periods of my life was the first year or so after my divorce. Bitter for all the usual reasons, sweet because I was finally out from under the emotional anvil that had been weighing me down for years.

As luck would have it, an old college buddy of mine had just taken a job in the area and we ended up renting a house together. It was very heartening to hang out with an old friend.

On one particular evening, me & Kev were sitting around listening to tunes and partaking of a few malt beverages. We were right in the middle of "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" from Sinead O'Conner's Am I Not Your Girl? when the phone rang. It was an old friend of both of ours who was just checking in

"What'r you guys up to?" "Not much...just sittin' around having' a beer and listening to show tunes."

There was a slight pause....

"What the hell does that mean?!"

I let the weird and disturbing psychic image of me & Kevin transforming into Broadway-lovin' gay men hang in the air before laughing and letting him in on the Sinead & beer truth.

The answer to the question that's been forming in the back of your mind for a paragraph or so ("What part of this soap-opera's got to do with Katie Melua?") is: a) show tunes and b) stereotypes.

Stereotypes. Sometimes it seems like they're used as weapons: hear something, label it, dismiss it, forget it. This happened quite a bit with Norah Jones, who apparently is "not a real jazz singer" even though she would be the first person to admit her more country-ish leanings. Katie Melua has been labeled a Norah Jones clone. In their haste to put Melua in the right 'slot', those reviewers have missed a crucial element: show tunes.

Show tunes. Sure, some of the tunes on Call Off The Search have that mid-tempo lilt. But...the big difference is that all of the songs have much more in common with a Broadway review than the Norah Jones pop/country/jazz thing.

The title track starts off as a slow, bluesy shuffle...until the orchestra shows up to go all Playbill on us. "The Closest Thing to Crazy" is a yearning love ballad that sure wouldn't be out of place under the bright lights. "My Aphrodisiac Is You"? Too jaunty for Norah, but not for, say, Bette Midler (and here I'll come clean to admit that I did enjoy hearing this young woman sing about oysters and the Khama Sutra.) The closest this record comes to the Norah Jones experience is on the folkish "Belfast (Penguins and Cats)"...until the big string section shows up. Heck, even John Mayall's "Crawling Up A Hill" sounds more "On Broadway" than "Come Away With Me".

Ah, and then there's the voice. At only 19, Katie Melua sports a pretty unique set of pipes. I do like how her accent 'brightens up' when she's bending notes. Remnants of her USSR/Georgian past seem to peek out when she strongly enunciates consonants (especially in the closing ballad "Lilac Wine.) It's kinda cute, if you ask me.

Can Katie Melua survive in the harshness of today's pop music reality? Is the United States ready for her? We'll see. Success in the U.K. (number 1 for six weeks) guarantees almost nothing here except for a tiny bit of foot-in-door leverage. But you just never know. I mean, while the Norah Jones naysayers were hurling around "Snorah", "Borah" and "made me nod off", the rest of the listening public was out there having fun: ears first, unconcerned with stereotypes.

True Love - Toots and the Maytals

So far, this is the summer record of 2004. Toots gets together with an enormous pack of celebrity guest stars and pretty much overcomes the lowered expectations usually associated with such things.

The list of stars is a long one, but my favorites are Willie Nelson ("Still Is Still Moving To Me"), Shaggy and Rahzel ("Bam Bam"), Bootsy Collins and The Roots on "Funky Kingston", Ben Harper ("Love Gonna Walk Out On Me") and the ultra-fun No Doubt on the insanely happy "Monkey Man".

I love to collect books about writing. Old ones, new ones. Books about technique, books about process.

My favorite among these is the writing memoir. An older example of this might be Hemmingway's A Moveable Feast. More recently there's been Steven King's On Writing. At the top of my list is Natalie Goldberg's Long Quiet Highway, with equal parts life narative and writing discussion.

One of the things that amazes me about writing in general, and language in particular, is how common usage drastically changes over time. Just the other day I was browsing through a book called Composition For College Students. Published in 1948 (fifth edition, first edition was in 1922), this book is just chock full of examples illustrating the huge differences between common usage now and 'then'.

For example, in the section discussing usage of written outlines (OK, how many people out there actually wrote their outlines before begining their high school papers?) the author makes the point that it might make sense for the student to just sit and think about what he wants to say, even before commiting a sketch to paper:

To the present writers it would seem best to dispense entirely with the help of pen and paper in the first stages of reflection on a subject, while one is struggling in general terms with the question "What is it I really want to say?" and while one is determing the main course of one's thought.

Phew! All that third-person academi-speak has got me tired out. But style matters aside, that particular sentence isn't so different from what you might find in a composition text today. But check out the next sentence, which completes the thought:

Thoughts are easier to move about than their physical symbols, and unhappily the intense effort which thinking requires can be eluded by means of no mechanical device.

You'd have to dig into a modern semiotics text to find ripe verbiage like that. Does this mean that we've dumbed down our language (AIM-speak, anyone?) That's not for me to answer. It's just interesting to see how our usage of it has morphed over time.

Bill Clinton's My Life hits the bookstore shelves today.

I'm gonna have to buy a copy if for no other reason than the pumped up sales figures are bound to piss off the right wing.

'Neath Your Covers (part 1) - Cowboy Junkies

First, let me say that I bought this latest Cowboy Junkies disc mostly to get my hands on the EP of covers. I was dying to hear Margo Timmins' sultry voice set against one of my all-time favorite songs: Thunder Road.

I was not disappointed. They turn in a fine folk-rockish version that waits until just the right moment to 'let go'. Seriously, I get goosebumps during those conclusive chords post-"..pulling out of here to win."

Thunder Road is followed by a Neil Young-ish take on the Cure nugget "Seventeen Seconds". Creepy & scary.

But then, after the relative cheerfulness of Townes Van Zandt's "Lungs", the Junkies drop right back into the shimmering doom of Jesse Colin Young's "Darkness, Darkness."

And what was that about Neil Young? This version of "Helpless" recalls Young and Joni Mitchell during The Band's Last Waltz concert. Very powerful.

I haven't even listened to One Soul Now yet...but this EP makes me feel like I've gotten my money's worth already.

Quite a few years back I had a discussion with a close friend about a certain 'famous' musician. I say 'famous' because the musician's name has been dropped from both of our memories (no doubt deposited behind the "memory sofa", where your head tosses once 'important' bits of information, like synaptic lost socks). That's OK though, as the truly important part of the conversation had to do with how the musician (a guitarist, that much I do remember) felt about his play when it approached the highest level: at the point where it seemed like the music, not the player, was in control. When that magic point was achieved, he said that his hands felt "like water". Like water...an interesting concept. One that has stuck with me for well over a decade.

Now, of course I have no idea if John Abercrombie has ever thought of his hands as feeling like water. But I'm sure that musicians of his caliber have made frequent visits to 'The Zone'. When listening to jazz/improvised music I sometimes wonder how the players arrived at that destination. Were they just riding on top of the predefined set of chord changes? Were they listening intently and improvising off of a particular instrument? Is it a collective improvisation? All of the above? These questions can be applied to little bits of a tune as well as the entire composition.

So...as I'm listening to John Abercrombie's Class Trip the questions begin to form. A great example of what sounds like "all of the above" comes during the pensive "Risky Business". The introduction features Abercrombie laying out a simple chord solo to which Mark Feldman adds a gorgeous melody on violin. Like a musical holograph, the verse materializes as Mark Johnson's bass and Joey Baron's cymbals complete the rest of the 'structure'. Obviously, this tune is built on a set of chord changes, but it's heavily decorated by a continuous undercurrent of subtle improvisation.

I never thought these words would come out of my mouth: this group is better than Gateway, Abercrombie's 'supergroup' with Dave Holland on bass and Jack DeJohnette on drums. I've always thought of Gateway as the perfect settings for Abercrombie's style of guitar playing. Certainly it's pretty tough to find fault with either of those two giants. But there's just something about Abercrombie's current lineup (which is the same as on 2002's Cat N Mouse). It may just be Joey Baron's 'fault'. While I don't usually like to play favorites (as in "this rates a 7, that rates an 8.5"), Baron's deft touch on the cymbals & brushes out-nuances DeJohnette on this particular record. Check out the clever "Illinoise". The interplay between Abercrombie's initial arpeggios and Baron's kit magic is just brilliant. By the time Johnson and Feldman enter the scene I'm pretty sure that I have entered the zone!

The rest of Class Trip is equally as interesting, with many solo, duet and trio sections forming on top of the song's basic foundation. Also present is ECM's familiar slightly 'wet' and reverb-laden sound. It's unfortunate that some have labeled Manfred Eicher's label as 'mellow' or 'laid back' as they really do miss the point: bringing together musician, composition and personality to (hopefully) create something unique and 'greater' than the sum of its components. If that ain't part of "The Zone", I don't know what is.

There's a thread going on over at BlogCritics about whether or not the writers should/can have their pictures posted. In the middle of all of the back & forth somebody posted a like to to a site that allows you to create an icon of your lovely mug. I tried it, but it was difficult. The facial hair was very tricky. The choices were a little stubble, a goatee, or two ferrets attached to your face. In any event, here's what I came up with:

Pretty danged funny if ya ask me.

Sonic Geology - Birdsongs of the Mesozoic

How to describe this group? It's a tough one. Mix together equal parts punk, neo-classical, minimalism and avante-noise. They were an offshoot from the Boston band Mission of Burma. What's great about the collection Sonic Geology is that you get to hear the 'serious' side (their chunk of Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring comes to mind), the playful side (a great cover of Theme From Rocky and Bullwinkle) and the just plain bizarre ("Triassic, Jurassic, Cretaceous".)

Rock chamber music? Classical psychedli-punk? There's no answer really. Do check 'em out though.

Amorica - The Black Crowes

Now, first of all...I have to admit that I used to hate the Black Crowes. For whatever reason, "Hard To Handle" would come on the radio and I would: 1. cringe and 2. change the station.

At the time, their music struck me as a rip-off of the Small Faces/early Rod Stewart. It seemed like every song threatened to morph into "Every Picture Tells A Story". Hey, I don't really know what my problem was. I mean, it's not like every rock band that comes along is gonna start a revolution.

So at some point I end up watching one of the VH1 Behind The Music things on the Black Crowes. Somehow, despite the drugs and general rock excess, I see that these guys really carry a passion for the music. Not long after this I'm visiting a friend and in the middle of pawing my way through a bunch of used CD's I find a copy of Amorica. Since I have no other Black Crowes albums, I'm in no position to judge this with respect to the rest of their catalog....but Amorica is chock full of snarling guitar riffs, bluesy leads and all-around snotty fun. It's dark and nasty, yet full of soul too...kinda like an Americanized version of the Rolling Stones (as if the Stones weren't Americanized enough).

As we all know, the accountants and consultants have bleached out pop and rock radio so that it's barely retained any of its former color. Sadly, country music radio did not escape that fate. Much of what passes for 'country' these days consists of a bland mixture of pop, rock (and maybe a little blues) with a few country decorations tossed in for window dressing (not unlike the ever-present belt buckles and ten-gallon hats).

So when a recording like Van Lear Rose comes along, it seems to carry extra weight. This is one bold move. Loretta Lynn enlisted Jack White (White Stripes) as producer and together they have come up with an album that manages to sound both 30 years old and brand spankin' new. This is the real deal. Jack's guitar (along with a snazzy, loose-yet-tight band, dubbed "The Do Whaters"), a little more raw than today's standard fare, seems to perfectly accentuate Loretta's coal miner twang. Loretta also helped out by writing a killer pile of songs, not a clunker in the bunch. You say you don't like country? Give the tune "Portland Oregon" a listen. It's a stunning duet with White (sounding a little bit like Steve Forbert) that combines old country bits with modern psychobilly guitar.

For fans of the genre there's plenty to love including the ballad "God Makes No Mistakes", the very tradition-sounding "This Old House" and the gently-swinging closer "Story of my Life".

Loretta Lynn's trail of influence is surely a long one, and one new rising star who knows all about it is Gretchen Wilson. The Pocahontas, IL, trailer-park gal is the author of "Redneck Girl", which recently went to number one on the country charts. A cynical person might take one look at Wilson, read the story of professed love of WalMart, Lynryd Skynyrd & beer and pronounce the whole deal as more faux-country.

That would be a mistake.

If you give Here For The Party an open-hearted listen you'll hear all of her influences (Lynn, Patsy Cline, Tanya Tucker) wrapped around some seriously fun songs. Think "Redneck Woman" is just a novelty? Listen on for the traditionally-styled ballad "When I Think About Cheatin'". I tell ya, this girl can sing! She's got a sense of humor too: check out "Homewrecker", where she warns a potential adversary in romance of the butt-kicking in the offing. Extra points there for building the verses on a slowed-down "Sweet Home Alabama" riff.

...and then there's "Chariot", a tune that rocks along while describing "...A Chariot...Ya, A Big Bold Eagle On The Hood Trans Am Chariot". Heh...but that ain't the end of it. Right in the middle of the song is a rap section. That's right. A snappy rhyme with scratchin' turntables & everything: about Ezekiel's Chariot Vision! And of course the chariot is a gold Cadillac. Dang, it's clever, fun and just a plain joy to listen to.

Can Loretta Lynn and Gretchen Wilson put some real "hell, yea!" back into the country music scene? I think they already have.

The Birth of Soul - Volume 3 - Ray Charles

I've got nothing more to add about the death of Ray Charles (since Blogcritic Grand Poobah Eric Olsen summed it up so beautifully here).

What? You don't own any Ray Charles records? Run right out (surf over, whatever) and get yourself a copy of The Birth of Soul: The Complete Atlantic Rhythm & Blues Recordings, 1952-1959. The smile will wrap almost all the way around your head.

Rest in peace, Ray.

...and I am depressed.

A sorta-new kind of sorta-art rock has come into being over that last several years. Mostly it has flown beneath the radio radar, but there have been a few exceptions: The Flaming Lips, Radiohead and maybe even Coldplay. While it took me a while to warm up to both the Flaming Lips and Radiohead (I still do not 'get' Coldplay), I did come to see this music as an interesting and very welcome alternative (man, I just hate how the word 'alternative' and been forever mangled as a useful musical term) to the non-stop aggression and emotional drabness of 'modern rock'.

So after several weeks of nearly daily listens to Secret Machines' Now Here Is Nowhere, I've decided that this band fits nicely into the trend. Not as weird as Radiohead, a little more rock than the Flaming Lips, Secret Machines know a thing or two about the value of combining subtlety, space and the power chord. I've seens a bunch of reviews mentioning their Pink Floyd similarities. Well, just a little of that might be true. Certainly the tune 'Pharoah's Daughter' has some Floyd in it, especially that two-chord approach to the verse key (Where did Pink Floyd use that? "Have A Cigar?" "Shine On You Crazy Diamond?"). But if you think about it, there are tons of bands in rock history who have used air, transitional passages and odd sounds to link their songs together. Heck, take a look at the list of groups listed on the Secret Machines website: Pink Floyd, Neu, Can, Brian Eno, Tangerine Dream, La Dusseldorf, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, The Band, My Bloody Valentine and Spiritualized. So we have elements pulled from psychedelic rock, kraut rock, ambient, art rock and plain 'ole rock.

Now Here Is Nowhere starts off on a pretty heavy note with "First Wave Intact", which is full of big chords and less-is-more rock drums. One thing here that links this band to the aforementioned groups is song length. The opener clocks in at 9:00, definitely setting it apart from the alternative rock set. The next tune, "Sad And Lonely", begins with distorted guitar figure that brings to mind The Who's "905". A brooding middle section gives way to a fairly twisty guitar solo before the song morphs into a spacey transition to the next tune. My favorite song (if it's fair to pick one in this kind of suite-constructed thing) is "Light's On", a paranoid little thing that rocks pretty hard and that might be accused of stealing from Radiohead's playbook (if they were still interested in rocking this hard).

Other writers have also said that they feel the rock world may be at a turning point. I really do hope it turns out to be true, though there's a whole bunch of unresolved issues to be sorted out including: the state of commercial radio, the health (if that's the word to use) of major record labels, the health (that's the word I want to use) of the independents, and what role technology will play in all of this. I don't have any answers here. The Secret Machines do make me feel like something's happening though.

saw one of those calvin-peeing-on decals today. calvin's clutching an american flag while peeing on the word "Terrorism".

oh so clever.

Bless the Martyr & Kiss the Child - Norma Jean

My wife, who teaches at a very small christian school, occasionally brings home CD's from her students. I'm always interested in them because I want to see what the kids are listening to. Are they looking beyond the monstrosity of contemporary christian velveeta (or, as folkie Greg Brown sez, "Praise the lord, let's go to the mall!")?

Anyway, late Friday night my wife announces that she's going off to bed to read and listen to some music she borrowed from a student. A few minutes later I hear this heinous blast of sound coming from behind the bedroom door. Concussive drums, metalic sludgy guitar and some cookie-monsterish vocals. The door flies open and the poor wife has quite the bemused look on her face. So much for the quiet listening session!

Obviously, Norma Jean has nothing to do with contempo-gospel. In fact, there seems to be some diversion of opinion in the fan base as to whether they're christian at all. That's not for me to decide. All I know is that the music is pretty danged exhilarating. Lots of hardcore music kind of grinds along in its own speedy way, but becomes mired in sameness after a while. Norma Jean brings a bunch of progressive elements to the table. Very interesting stuff. Heck, even if you don't like the music you can sit there and get a laugh from some of the song titles: "Pretty Soon, I Don't Know What, But Something Is Going To Happens", "Sometimes It's Our Mistakes That Make For The Greatest Ideas" and, my personal favorite: "I Used To Hate Cell Phones But Now I Hate Car Accidents".

One of the great things about being a music addict (not really sure if addict is the right word here, since I'm not sure that anything can be done about this 'condition'...to me it's as necessary as breathing or eating) is that, because I'm constantly digging through the pile for new stuff, surprises pop up with amazing regularity.

Today though, the complaint is is often made that there's no good music being made. Similarly, a CD is purchased because of particular song, but the rest of the CD disappoints. Honestly, this never happens to me. Maybe it's because hit songs no longer drive my buying habits: I don't listen to radio very often, and music videos have basically disappeared from television.

Uh, anyway...so what's the surprise here? Well, almost all of my exposure to pianist/compost Marilyn Crispell has involved her Cecil Taylor-esque material. She's worked with many an avante-garde-leaning musician including: Billy Bang, Tim Berne, Reggie Workman, Gary Peacock, Steve Lacy and Anthony Braxton (find yourself a used copy of Braxton's "Willisau Quartet 1991", you won't be disappointed). So somehow the 'softer' side of Crispell has eluded me. Heck, I even own Crispell's fine Annette Peacock tribute Nothing Ever Was Anyway, so you think I'd have grown a smidge awareness with regard to her more lyrical side.

So the big surprise is the cool wash of piano tones and subtle interplay on Crispell's Storyteller. Along with bassist Mark Helias and drummer Paul Motian, the trio moves through, in, around and between the melodies and changes with amazing sensitivity. Tunes like "Flight of the Bluejay" and "Harmonic Line" somehow combine (hold on to yer hats, jazz fans) the folkiness of George Winston with the improvisational complexity of Ornette Coleman. Crispell drops a chord arpeggio, Motion follows and mirrors with some whispy brushes and then Helias lifts everything with a few notes of commentary. These musicians are locked in!

Now, this is not music that's going to hit you over the head. It does require some pretty intensive listening. There's a lot of 'air' in it. For the people out there who say that nothing good has come along in a while, I say: open your ears and mind and give something like Storyteller a try. You just might be in for a big surprise.

Blues for Allah Project - Joe Gallant and Illuminati

My favorite Grateful Dead album is Blues For Allah. It's full of twisty instrumentals. That's my thing. Of course, one of my other things is interesting covers of well-known music.

Bassist Joe Gallant's Illuminati is a 20 piece sorta big band. On this record they key off of the improvisational nature of the tunes and drive them to their logical limit.

It's nothing but big fun. Honest.

I have this theory about concerts. Well, maybe not a theory exactly...more of a rule of thumb for categorizing the intensity of the concert experience (for all people concerned, concert-goer and band) based on the amount (and type) of reverence involved.

Formalized analysis of fun? Sort of.

A young band, a hit single of the radio, lands a support slot on an established group's summer shed tour. Every night the band launches in the hit song and thousands of ears perk up. The seed has been sown for the future. That seed might die, but at least the band has a chance.

A band has put out several records, gone on many a successful tour, and had a lot of radio play. They've made it. At their shows the kids are sporting band t-shirts, engaging in some crowd surfing and generally having a great time. The new material is given respect (though a few bathroom breaks do start) but the more energetic response comes when the hits arrive. The kids sing along, dance around and, for a short while, forget who they are.

But...there's a level above this.

The concert, moving beyond audience-listens-to-band, becomes a celebration of the songs...almost like the songs are a third party to the event. Being a 40-something, I'll use the Bruce Springsteen live experience as an example. There have been times when the reaction to the 'arrival' of a song is so intense (say, during the two minute-plus intro to "Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out") that it seems like the audience and the band are almost worshiping the moment. Honestly, I get choked up when this happens.

So am I here to compare Guster to Springsteen? No, but while watching the DVD that comes with Guster On Ice, I recognized a bunch of moments of uber-song-reverence. The kids are smiling, singing along, crying, hugging, kissing...all the while the band is locked in to pure pop bliss. I loved Guster's Keep It Together but clearly the live show brings out the true spirit of this band. I rate them right up there with pop-meisters like Joe Jackson, Elvis Costello and XTC.

The DVD concert begins an acoustic bit of "Careful", followed by "Fa Fa" and "I Spy". By the time the very cool cover if the Talking Heads' "(Nothing But) Flowers", I was hooked (and also more than a little annoyed that I didn't attend one of these shows...I happened to be staying at a hotel right around the corner from the State Theatre on both nights...it was so cold that weekend that I gave up an opportunity to shop for used records...that is cold!)

Guster has come from their dorm room, guitar and percussion roots to become one of the most interesting and fun bands out there. Will they end up filling giant arenas and stadiums? That doesn't really matter: because they've taken their musical ideas and created something that can't be taken away from them or their fans. It was a cold pair of nights (December 19 and 20, 2003) up in Portland, Maine, but Guster, their fans and the music drove off the chill.

hmmm, it's june already. i only have vague bits of what the month of may was like. there was something in there about selling a house. also, tons of hours of work. there might have even been a few record reviews tossed in there...can't remember.

in any event, all of that work crapola is coming to a blessed end and i feel a whole boatload of reviews coming on. several are in the can (in my head) and will be showing up any day now...hopefully starting tomorrow morning.

On deck:

• Guster - Guster On Ice: Live from Portland, Maine
• Marilyn Crispell - Storyteller
• A Loretta Lynn/Gretchen Wilson combo review (Hell yea!!!)
• Secret Machines - Now Here Is Nowhere