This issue has been addressed, pummeled, stomped on and beaten to death in many an Internet shooting match: a particular piece of music has intrinsic worth, a sort of objective scorecard whose total puts the record on some kind of pop music number line.

Or not.

I'm in the latter category. It's one of the reasons that I don't bother with writing negative reviews. Something's not to my liking? Look I'm no expert. Maybe I missed the point. This is particularly true when I've never liked the artist. I mean, what's the point of blasting out 500 words on how much the new Belle & Sebastian sucks? Save the pencil lead & keystrokes and just ignore the danged thing.

Now, here at Blogcritics we had ourselves a great Internet hooey about the band Styx and their big hit record The Grand Illusion. The lead hooey-meister was our own Al Barger. Some folks thought that the brazen act of liking this band was indefensible. 'Bad' lyrics, uninspired dreck...blah, blah, blah.

The thing is, one of the reasons I liked Styx so much (aside from nostalgia, which of course I'll get to) is that their evolution was fun to watch. They started out as a Chicago-area working class band with a built-in time-bomb: the more blue collar guys in the group were at some point bound to clash with the white collar guy: lead singer/synthesize guy Dennis DeYoung. The first explosion seemed to occur on Cornerstone. Yea, "Babe" was a huge hit, but you can just imagine the look plastered on guitarist James Young's face as Dennis played that one through the first time.

Rock group soap opera antics aside, I just plain liked the music. The contrasts in the band members' tastes were exactly what made it so interesting. DeYoung might have been a synthesizer Liberace, but his whorling lines made James Young's snarling guitar that much more intense. A perfect example is on "Miss America", where the synth introduction gives way to some blissfully distorted guitar.

Then there's the issue of musicianship: that one group/artist is somehow better and/or more deserving because their successful use of certain songwriting devices combined with an 'acceptable' level of chops. So obviously a group like Styx were 'better' musicians than say (to use Al Barger's example), Iggy Pop. That conclusion leaves out all sorts of other reasons that people become enamored of tunes: passion, power, aggression, lust. Iggy, being the appropriately named 'Godfather of Punk' had all of those traits in spades. That and a killer growl of a voice. It was like the man was possessed or somethin'!

Lastly, there's the nostalgia factor. Sorry, but I can't get away from this. It applies to nearly every single recording in my collection. The Grand Illusion has attached to it my cousin Andy's bedroom (where I first heard Pat Metheny while getting my game-pacifist ass kicked in backgammon...but hey, he had a cool Styx poster on the wall), the television ads for Styx at the Moncton Coliseum (WLBZ 2, Bangor, Maine), the time I saw them in concert with my old buddy Tyler (on the Pieces of Eight tour, where we stopped on the side of the Maine Turnpike just outside of Augusta to lob full bottles of beer at a huge exit sign....we missed), Dennis DeYoung's piano rising from the chemical fog during the intro to "Come Sail Away", Chuck Panozzo calling a crowd member a "big fucking asshole" for hitting him in the face with a bottlecap, my confused reaction to the release of Cornerstone, my even more confused reaction to the release of Kilroy Was Here. All of those thoughts are there, they just can't be denied.

And, like William Hurt's character said in The Big Chill:

You're so analytical! Sometimes you just have to let art flow over you.

Seriously folks, I'm drivin' to work this morning and pop in Green Day's American Idiot. Yow, by the time I get to the exhilarating ending to "Jesus Of Suburbia" I find myself flying across route 495 at almost 80 mph (which for a captain putt-putt like me is saying something) with the hair on my arms standing at attention.

You don't own this CD? What the hell!!? Run right out and get a copy. None of that downloading crap. These boys have wives and kids ta feed!!!

Here, maybe my review of it will convince you.

Right smack in the middle of three hours of lawn mowing, my thoughts wandered around to Gene Krupa, Charlie Christian and Thomas Edison. What would those men think of what had become of their respective 'instruments': drums, guitar and recording device?

This was no heat-induced musical non-sequitur. No, I was listing to the latest Groundtruther recording (this being part two of the series, with DJ Logic as guest artist) on my new & fresh iPod...so instead of the muffled drone of the grass-chomping Husqvarna, it was Bobby Previte's neo-surf drumming, Charlie Hunter's 8-string guitar and DJ Logic's freaky turntablism.

Music like this refuses to be categorized. Jazz? In spirit. Funk? Plenty. Rock too...sort of. Whatever you end up calling it, there's no denying that the forementioned 'instrumental fathers' would have been impressed (maybe not pleased, but definitely impressed).

While Previte's drumming isn't so far removed from the Big Band era, Krupa would none the less have been appreciative of the swanky use of polyrhythms, start & stop sequences and the brilliant snare technique. Charlie Christian surely knew his way around the fretboard but...8 strings? All of those other sounds? Simultaneous bass and guitar lines? And Edison? The iPod is quite a leap forward from the wire recorder. Still, I'd be willing to bet that he'd appreciate the technological sophistication and elegance. I can even imagine the smile spreading across his face as he listened to DJ Logic's abuse of the turntable.

Longitude opens with some microtonal weirdness and scratchology before Previte drops in a stiff backbeat. Hunter lays down a low groove to which he adds middle register distorted accents (man, that 8-string is the Swiss Army Knife of electric guitars!) Hunter then heads into the 'theme' (if you can call it that) which, with its descending arpeggios, reminds me of "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds". Already, in this first tune, we have bits of nearly every genre these guys like to play in: surf, funk, hip-hop, rock, pop and jazz. All in under six minutes.

The palette-cleansing ambiance of "Tycho Brahe", where hunter explores a series of slowly morphing chord changes (and where Previte and Logic play otherworldly call & response), we get to shake it to the surf-meets-hip-hop of "March 1741, Cape Horn". Dang, that Previte never ceases to amaze with his somehow off kilter yet right in the pocket skin whackin'.

Jumping forward to "Dead Reckoning", a more sinister kind of groove emerges. It's almost like Praxis playing the Talking Heads. Start and stop. Squeak and roar (yea, Charlie Christian mighta been frowning here). There's more of this sort of 'industrial funk' interleaved between the spacier tracks. For maximum funk, check out "Back-Quadrant", an upside-down James Brown thang.

As much as I love this band making the big noise, there's just as much going on in the quieter material. It's on tunes like "Medicean Stars", "Epherimedes", "South Heading" and the closing untitled track that you can just hear Logic, Previte and Hunter listening as much as playing. Great stuff.

So the question remains: would Krupa, Christian and Edison like Groundtruther? Well, probably not. But hey, you never know. Great minds tend to have lots of, shall we say, room for expansion. Looking at it from another angle, sometimes experiences outside of your comfort zone can actually expand your mind in ways that you've never thought possible. Can Longitude do that? Hey, don't take my word for it. Your ears are in charge.

I was over to a friend's house the other night for a few (extremely hoppy) beers and some fine listening. This time around I was turned on to Ry Cooder's latest and ultra-fine record: Chavez Ravine.

Cooder takes the story of the chunk of land beneath Dodger Stadium and turns it into an incredible collection of songs meant to tell the story of that long lost Mexican-American mini-community. As always, Cooder brings along some interesting and talented guests. To these ear-parts, the results are brilliant.

Never heard of the story of Chavez Ravine and Dodger Statdium? Me neither. Apparently, when the government moved to evict the residents...things got ugly. Though some folks left peacefully, other had to be dragged out of their homes. Ah, progress.

Whatever your feelings on the subject of eminent domain, I bet you'll be moved to relive the experiences of those concerned via this beautiful music. And, socio-politcal hooey aside, this album is just plain excellent summer listening. Seriously.

Pass the salt.

It has been so hot and humid here that mushrooms have been popping up all over our back lawn. Kinda cool lookin', but strange.

That's OK, a few more days of this heat wave thing and the lawn itself will be over a foot tall. Anybody wanna do some haying?

I was over at the Toadstool bookshop this weekend and happened upon a interesting quote printed on the back of a local band's CD jewel case:

Of course the people don't want war. But after all, it's the leaders of the country who determine the policy, and it's always a simple matter to drag the people along whether it's a democracy, a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism, and exposing the country to greater danger

Who said it? One of those nasty 'liberal activists' that conservatives are always going on about? It had to be, right?

No, it was Herman Goering at the Nuremberg Trials.

Scary.

Guitar blasphemy or Zenlike calm?

Audio violence or sweet aural pacifism?

Hmmm, I just can't decide. You would think that the calming influence of something like a slow-moving John Cage record or maybe some ambient Eno would do the trick. The truth is that I probably wouldn't hear it. No, I've got so much synaptic vibrations going on in the brain cage that when I looked in the mirror this moring I half expected to see something like those disturbing 'shakey head' people in the movie Jacob's Ladder.

My big mistake last night was to actually unpack the new iPod that showed up on the front porch (gee Mr. UPS guy, thanks for leaving it out in the rain). I was already on edge and just knew...that an encounter with new technology, even something supposedly as 'friendly' as the iPod, was a bad idea. Well, it certainly was a bad idea. By the time I'd installed iTunes on two different computers, both resulting in no imported tunes actually showing up on the external device, I was having visions of crushing the iPod in a vice.

Silly me.

So after rising way, way too early (5AM) this morning to get some work done, I went straight for the big noisey crunch of the Gang of Four. This reissue is so chock full of rusty razor blade guitar, naughty bass and violent drumming that I'm not sure the bad mood can survive the onslaught of endorphins. There are a pile of extras added to the end of the original release including four tunes from the EP Yellow (which I think I've got on vinyl around here somewhere) and four live tracks (including an absolutely terrible version of "Sweet Jane").

Hey, here's an appropriate bit of lyric from "At Home He's A Tourist":

He fills his head with culture He gives himself an ulcer

Yea, no kidding.

Oooh! Ooooh!!! UPS sez that my spankin' new iPod is now "Out For Delivery".

Whheeeeeeee!!!!!

I squinted out through the heavy dawn fog at the mysterious figure standing near the edge of the ocean bluff. Slowly moving closer, it became apparent that she was totally nude, except for a black top hat. With her left arm extended toward the sea, she drew a long, curved knife across her forearm, exposing muscle, tendon and bone to the sky...and dripping blood into the foamy surf.

While that scene played out, my mind's DJ spun up the Smashing Pumpkins' "Tonight, Tonight". My favorite band and the perfect song for this surreal encounter.

Then I woke up in a glistening cold sweat.

What a relief! No woman on the edge. No limbs flayed open. No blood. Best of all, I'm not actually a Smashing Pumpkins fan. Phew!!

As I was listening to Billy Corgan's solo record, The Future Embrace, that loopy scenario popped into my head as the only possible path for me to Pumpkins fandom. Seriously, I never 'got' them. Sure, that "Cherub Rock" (from Siamese Dream) was cool (love that blistering guitar). The rest of it all never made a connection with me. Part of it was Corgan's voice. I can't put my finger on it, but 'forced' is what always came to mind.

The thing is, I like Corgan the man. In interviews he's very sincere, enthusiastic and funny. Plus, he's a big Cheap Trick fan, which always gets a person extra rock karma points. I want to like Corgan's music, but somehow I never do.

The Pumpkins broke up several years back with the usual rock & roll gossip swirling around: drugs and sniping (what they usually refer to as "creative differences"). Corgan went on to form Zwan...and then what? I happened to hear about his Smashing Pumpkins reformation announcement on the same day as my first listen to The Future Embrace. It struck me as odd that Embrace would appear in such close proximity to Corgan's public appeal. But hey, I've got no idea what's going on in his life. It seems that he's got some musical ideas left in the bag that are best expressed in his old band's context.

So does that mean that The Future Embrace was tossed aside for better things to come? Dunno. It's not a bad collection of songs. Even though I'm still not a fan of Corgan's voice, there's no denying that he knows how to put together a tune. The melodies are pretty and winding. The guitar provides lots of atmosphere in an almost Edge-like way. He even went so far as to cover the Bee Gees classic "To Love Somebody" with the Cure's Robert Smith assisting on vocals.

Some fans may object to so many songs revolving around Corgan's blossoming religious faith (see the liner notes for 'proof') but it's done in a fairly subtle way, with the lyrics staying away from stridency.

My only real complaint here is with the sterility of the rhythm section. Too much programming, not enough real drums. In some ways, this record sounds like the Pumpkins' "Adore". Just check out "DIA", on which Jimmy Chamberlain plays drums. The contrast with the rest of the material couldn't be greater.

Maybe the Smashing Pumpkins will get back together. Maybe they'll put out a killer new album....and just maybe I'll become a fan.

Obviously, stranger thoughts have occurred.

On our way back from Keene yesterday, we decided to pop into Peterborough's gourmet food market, 12 Pine, to snag us a nice pint of gelato.

Unfortunately, we arrived there at 4:15 PM, 15 minutes after closing time.

Gelato interruptus!

Here are some mini-reviews of the reading material I bathed myself in over vacation. I tell ya, one week is not enough.This year I tended to gravitate to non-fiction, which is sort of weird because I was feeling crushed by too much to do...so I might have expected to dive into a bunch of summery, beach-type reading. Curious.

Anyway, here's what I made it (mostly) through on our week of sipping Bombay Saffire's & tonic while pouring printed matter into our heads.

Stranger Than Fiction: True Stories - Chuck Palahniuk. The man who brought you Fight Club knows how to spin some mean and freaky non-fiction. An essay on guys who build their own castles, Marilyn Manson reading Tarot cards, and perhaps most disturbing, the Rock Creek Lodge Testicle Festival. It is a strange world out there and Palahniuk is quite good at tracking the weirdness down and describing it. A quick and interesting read.

Assassination Vacation - Sarah Vowell. Vowell, Ms. SmartAss extraordinaire, takes us on a tour of the United States via the tourist sites related to our assassinated presidents: Lincoln, Garfield and McKinley. Part travelog, part history, part social commentary, this book is pure Vowell. (P.S. Somehow, knowing what Vowell's voice sounds like just adds to the fun).

The Wisdom of Solitude - Jane Dobisz. Now this is pure summer getaway reading. Except that instead of hanging out at the beach Dobisz embarks on a Zen retreat in a New England cabin...for 100 days...in the middle of winter. Days beginning at 3:15 AM. Days filled up with sitting, walking and working meditation periods. I don't know if I'd be able to put myself through it (even as much of an introvert as I am) but it was fascinating to read about.

In Praise of Slowness - Carl Honore. Sensing a theme here? I picked this one up at one of my favorite bookstores, Rue Cottage Books in Southwest Harbor, Maine. Owner and author Niki Fox stocks a great general collection of books. Her specialty is writing related to ecology and technology issues. This is the place to pick up some reading on Ned Ludd, for instance. Slowness surveys the general increase in spead of modern day living, the negative effects of associated technological 'advances' and what some people are doing about it, the 'Slow Food' movement, for one.

The Hungry Ocean - Linda Greenlaw. This is Greenlaw's first book, written back when she was a swordfish boat captain running out of Gloucester, MA. Equally as entertaining as her Lobster Chronicles, but not nearly as funny as All Fishermen Are Liars.

That's it. The week passed in a couple of eye-blinks, but we had a great time revelling in print.

Cynicism.

It's tough not to see it nearly everywhere you turn these days. Politicians are in it for the power. Athletes are only in it for the money. Musicians aren't really there for the cause, but to merely stroke their egos. It's as though we've come to believing that sincerity (or at least the appearance of it) is not to be trusted (And remember, this review might be tainted because I've received free CD's, right?).

Well, if you're suffering from that particular malady, get yourself a copy of Waterband. If 16 tunes full of rock, pop, reggae, funk and soul can't loosen your suspicion then maybe there's no hope (for you anyway).

Waterband gets off on the right foot (or should I say "body part"?) by appealing to your butt's natural tendency to shake. That's right, the "back of your front" will be wantin' to move with the funk by way of Sly & the Family Stone that is "Come On".

So Waterband is a funk group? Not so fast. The acoustic, heartfelt love song "Pictures of Me & U" follows. Somehow, I kept thinking it was going to turn into "Monkey Time" (the one with Fee Waybill). It doesn't. Thank you.

As your cynicism begins to melt away, you may find yourself thinking that Waterband is tough to pin down in the 'ole category department...and you would be right. Add in reggae, pop, blues, jazz and full-on rock to the list.

So. Where's the 'center'?

My ear parts say it's "Dreadlock Dave" McDougald's consistently funky bass. From the poppin' opening track to the reggae by way of "Oh Bla Di Oh Bla Da" of "More Than Anything", the basslines are just plain happening. Oh, this doesn't mean that I'm snubbing guitarist Tom Denk or drummer Dave Keen. Far from it. Everyone in this band brings a goodly handful of chops to the scene without wavin' them around, busting the poor little tunes upside the head.

Waterband reminds me of some of the jam bands of yore. The guys who built the foundations of the genre: the Dead, the Allmans, Little Feat. Groups where versatility was key. Right in the middle of all of this funkatude, Waterband tosses out "Wonderful". For a bit, my deja vu chamber kept sayin' "Hey, what was the name of that Mr. Big hit?"...but then the outro blows the thought away with guest vocalist Deb Lewin's snazzy "Great Gig In The Sky"-isms.

I guess what I'm most taken with is the musical and lyrical exuberance. It's just pure, no-filler, no-ulterior motive joy.

This liner note snippet says it all:

This recording is for you, the friends & family of Waterband. Inspired by Love, Peace, Happiness, Hope, Friends, Music Art, Taste Of The Herbs, Fruit Of The Vine and All The Goodness Life Has To Offer.

This may not be the summer of love, but if you close your eyes...


(Waterband's CD is available at CDBaby.com. Click here to begin washing that cynical film away).

There is so much bad political vibery going on in these United States as of late. Wrangling about Supreme Court decisions, wrangling about the future of Social Security, wrangling about the war on terror, gay marriage, flag burning, Michael Jackson, the stupidity of liberals, the stupidity of conservatives, President Bush's Supreme Court nomination. On and on it goes.

What strikes me as interesting is the idea, held by folks on all sides (left, center, right), that there is only one true way to be an American. Or, more specifically, to be a patriotic American.

What got me to thinking about this was that I was watching the broadcast of the Boston Pops 4th of July celebration on the tube. Folks were clearly having a great time, dancing about, waving the flag, etc. This has never been my way of celebrating the 4th (to be quite truthful, it's not my way of celebrating anything). But...there's nothing wrong with it either.

What is wrong is the sentiment that somehow I'm less of an American because I don't 'love my country' in the 'correct' way. Look folks, it's a big 'ole world out there, with many ways to respond to all of its weird little nooks & crannies. There are very few, if any, one size fits all approaches to life. If you think you've got all the answers, then you're mistaken.

Carla Bley's Looking For America created its own little controversy when released. Some felt that the "National Anthem" suite wasn't properly respectful to the origins of the music. Since it's sort of difficult to extract a composer's intent, let me just say that "OG Can UC?", "Flags", "Whose Broad Stripes", "Anthem" and "Keep It Spangled" seem to look at the music from as many angles are there are citizens. Respectful? That's for you to decide. American? Definitely.

Oh, I spent my 4th of July doing what I feel is very important...hanging out in the garage with my dad. Together we built a nice wood storage loft above the oil tank. It felt great.

No. It's not. It's Thursday. All day long.

I shouldn't complain. Over in London, it's Monday. All day long.

What a world.

(Check out the Blogcritics London Bombing Master Post).

The latest White Stripes record is just killin' (if you don't believe me, ask the White Stripe's world's giddiest fanboy, Al Barger).

Seriously, it's not often that albums like this come along. I don't mean to imply that Get Behind Me Satan is 'perfect'. Not in the sense that records like Imperial Bedroom, Who's Next or even the first Van Halen record are perfect. No. This is more like a collection of disparate tunes that manage to fit perfectly together.

Warning:Nostalgia alert!

Get Behind Me Satan gives me serious 'I remember when' pangs for the Rolling Stones album Some Girls. That record, I suppose like a lot of the Stones' output, was all over the place in term of musical genres. Rock and roll, blues, country, R&B and even a little disco. Man, it was a sweet mix 'o stuff.

Ah, here's the nostalgia bit. I bought Some Girls at the drug store I worked at in high school (the defunct, swallowed by Rite Aid mini-chain, LaVeriere's). My Saturday morning shift ended at 1PM. I took the record home, popped it on the living room record player and sat down on the floor to pour over the liner notes/bizarre Warhol imagery. Unfortunately, I think I'd stayed out too late the night before...so I woke up just as the first side was making that funny needle-grinding-into-runoff-groove sound (for many years, as much as I liked the record, it would make me sleepy). I got up, moved the arm back to "Miss You" and commenced to rock. I was hooked halfway through "When The Whip Comes Down". I still am.

Now Jack & Meg White have put out a record that seems in the same category. There's garage rock, gospel, psychelic hootenanny, noire-ish blues, country folk...and it all makes sense. Plus, it's not the longest record in the world, further reminding me of when albums were forced to be more concise because of the limitations of the media (vinyl).

I liked the White Stripes from the minute I first heard "Fell In Love With A Girl". At that point though, I had no idea that White had so many musical ideas runnin' around in that head. But first that Loretta Lynn record and now this? Phew! He's got it going on.