I can probably count on the fingers of one hand the number of jazz "with strings" records that 'work' for me. This is a somewhat mysterious phenomenon as jazz and improvised music is food to me. As necessary as oxygen. Along those lines, a good string quartet is a thing not only of beauty...it is beauty.

But then you go and mix these things together and, well, they don't wanna mix. Here I'm thinking of many of the musics labeled "Third Stream". This was jazz mixed with classical. In its more knotty forms it was a load of fun. But sometimes, that stuff just didn't want to be blended and the result was dense, turgid and waaaay too serious.

There are of course, counterexamples in jazz. Take Charlie Parker with Strings. It's basically flawless. I mean, it is Charlie Parker.

So, you might be thinking: Steve Kuhn? Yea, not exactly a household name to the casual jazz fan. This is too bad though, as Kuhn has written some fantastic music over the years and has played and recorded with an impressive list of jazz stars including Kenny Dorham, John Coltrane, Stan Getz, Art Farmer, Steve Swallow, Tom Harrell and Joey Baron.

Promises Kept features seven new compositions written with string arrangements in mind, as well as three older Kuhn pieces reworked for that context. What makes this album 'work' is Kuhn's romantic & expressive melodies and chord structures. The melodies, with Kuhn at the piano, really do 'tell a story'. So much so that the string arrangements fit effortlessly. This was not accidental. From Bob Blumenthal's (excellent as always) liner notes:

While the rhythmic power of his music is represented by "Trance" and "Oceans in the Sky", it is the emotion in Kuhn's melodies that is the focal point here. "As I've gotten older and gone through deaths and losses, as well as open heart surgery, and at the same time come to appreciate the love and the positive influences in my life, I find myself responding more emotionally."

Kuhn goes on to say that the strings seem to bring out the emotion in the music. I couldn't agree more. This is a sort of musical travelog through Steve Kuhn's life. It obviously means a lot to him, but we can all take something from it.

One of the things the really bugged me about the whole "modern rock" and Nu-metal era (is it over yet?) was the sameness. Not just that a lot of the bands sounded the same, but that the songs themselves tended to be extremely homogeneous from start to finish. Sure, there was the slow part in the middle (which we used to call the "bridge" and it was there to connect the musical parts, not just take up space). Maybe even a slow part with a coupla turntable scritchy-scratches. But that's it. The fast part, followed by the slow part. Or maybe the angry part, then the not quite as angry part.

So the new garage bands (the White Stripes, Hives, Jet, etc.) came along to breathe some fresh air into a pretty danged stale scene. One listen to Jet's Get Born and I was transported back to a time when groups were not afraid to present multiple styles to their audience.

Paralleling the "modern rock" thing was the Californi-punk scene. Fronted (at least in my mind) by Green Day, some of the same staleness was allowed to creep in with way too many skankin', harmonizing rockers extruding the same 'product'.

Ah, but what happens when a group comes along dragging elements of garage, "modern rock", neo-punk with them? Well, in one case you get My Chemical Romance.

On first listen, I was thinking of Less Than Jake....sort of. One the one hand, there's the furious four-chord workouts and tight harmonies. On the other...all sorts of surprises. The vocals swallowed and spit out of "Give 'Em Hell Kid" (which makes me think of the White Stripes.) The frenetic, almost Queens of the Stoneage "To The End". "I'm Not OKAY (I Promise)", which starts off very much like Andrew W.K. before turning into one of those anthemic, singalong-type things (despite the not-so-happy lyrics.) The pretty much Anthrax-ish intro to "Thank You For The Venom". "Hang 'Em High" teases you with an Ennio Morricone motif before blowing up in your face. "Cemetery Drive" recalls early Cure (at least at first.)

There's a lot going on here, and I don't intend all of the band name-checking to mean that My Chemical Romance has nothing of their own to say. Not all all. They've clearly absorbed all sorts of modern influences, internalizing them and transforming them into, well...something else.

One thing's for sure, it ain't boring. Check 'em out.

Ah, it's getting to be that time of year again. The time when the kids start headin' off to college. For me, that means stepson #2 will be packing up and moving to Portland to attent the University of Southern Maine. Also, stepson #1 will go back to Northeastern (for what year I couldn't rightly tell you, since that co-op stuff confuses the bejeebers outa me.)

So this morning I got to thinking about my freshman year. One particular sorta music-related night came to mind.

Now, since I'm not running for anything, I'll be right up front and state that this little incident involved the demon weed. Yes, that's right. Our former president said he "didn't inhale" (for god's sake, he shoulda just said it made him choke.) Our current president was young and foolish when he was young and foolish. I've got no need for such camouflage: I would every so often partake of the herb. (Not often though, because I would become afflicted with a condition having the unintentionally Freudian title of "Oral/Aural Fixiation". This means that I got the munchies and, while alleviating said munchies, became insanely enamored with the sound of the food. Seriously. I once consumed an entire family-sized econo-box of Cap'n Crunch, poured into a giant stainless steel salad bowl and doused with a couple quarts of milk. Oh sure, it tasted good & all....but it sounded amazing. It's a wonder the roof of my mouth wasn't scarred for life.)

Uh, ahem...

One particular weekend, my roommate had gone for a home visit and I found myself with an entire Saturday night to glory in. So, spark it up I did. In a move that eerily foreshadows my love of the music of Philip Glass, I put Tom Petty's Damn The Torpedoes and proceeded to listen to it over and over again...all night long. The guy next door, a forestry major, was none too happy with me after hearing "Don't Do Me Like That" for the fifth time (or so he said the next day.) I couldn't help it, it just sounded so good. The crack of the snare, Petty's sneering vocals, the woman yelling "It's just the normal noises in here" before the start of "Even The Losers", the as-close-to-Pink-Floyd-as-they-ever-got weirdness between "What Are You Doin' In My Life" and the closing "Lousiana Rain".

Ah yes, to be young and foolish again.

Just unplug.

One of the simplest techniques for temporary stress reduction is to 'unplug'. That is, get yourself away from the many distractions of modern life. I've read about this several times and have actually tried it in a casual way. This usually happens when I take a vacation, since things like the phone and the computer rarely come with me.

Last weekend, the wedding that we attended happened to be at a very nice inn located in an out of the way town on the Maine coast. Because of the nature of the weekend, the activities planned and the inn's lack of 'technological amenities', we ended up unplugging for quite a while. Between Saturday evening and late Tuesday afternoon, we watched no television, read no newspapers and answered no phones. The main 'brain activity' was reading (Natalie Goldberg's The Great Failure: A Bartender, A Monk, and My Unlikely Path to Truth). The limit of technology use might have been the claw cracker used at the big lobster feed on Sunday night.

During all of that time I managed to not think about work, my house, Iraq, George Bush, John Kerry, the Red Sox, the Olympics, terrorism.

One thing is certain: those self-help articles were not foolin' around. It was a calming experience.

Now, did I 'miss' anything 'given up'? Yes and no. The computer: what, are you kidding? Television and phones: no. I watch very little TV and can't stand the phone (a guy I work with described it perfectly "I have to psych myself up to call someone I know"). The newspaper: sort of. I've been reading a daily since I first began lugging around the Hartford Courant bag when in seventh grade. Heck, I like the smell of newspapers.

Just as stress can negatively impact creativity, reduced 'mental noise' levels gives it a boost. All sorts of ideas were popping into my head. Very invigorating (just like the sea air...man, I'd love to bottle that stuff.)

Upon return to 'civilization', most of the bad thought gremlins returned, along with the stress. It made me think that the idea of balance in life just might be more important than I'd realized.

Maybe it's time to build myself that cabin in the back yard.

The wedding was wonderful, as was the location, the weather, the food and the single malt(s).

While having lunch in Damariscotta, Maine on Sunday, I began to wonder if maybe I shouldn't be buying lottery tickets...

Keith Jarrett, Gary Peacock, Jack DeJohnette.

Piano, bass, drums.

A rational person might ask, "Do we really need another live record from these people?" The answer, at least in my book (and I may not be rational), is a big yes.

This trio, though they do have chops galore, is mostly about feeling and the ability to listen. The word "interplay" becomes nearly irrelevant. They've gone way beyond mere "interplay". It's even possible that "telepathy" doesn't quite put the picture into focus. They're that good.

Perhaps even more amazing is the creative juice being squeezed from standards. It has been argued (not by me!) that Jarrett & company can push familiar material too far towards "out". From The Out-of-Towners, an example might be Cole Porter's "I Love You". Certainly Porter never intended for there to be a drum solo in his tune. But...Porter never heard Jack DeJohnette. Still, I bet Porter would have appreciated the way all three of these instruments appear to be playing simultaneous lead and support roles.

Jarrett's description of the trio:

We are different people, and the alchemy we get when we play together comes from our separate natures. But no description can make a person as great as I feel Jack and Gary are. We've been together so long, we understand each other's language, and we trust each other 100%.

There's no better illustration of this all-at-once thing than on the the title track. It's a bluesy, extended group improvisation where Peacock's bass seems to continuously taunt Jarrett's piano while Jack DeJohnette builds, destroys, and then re-builds the supporting rhythmic structure.

And it swings like mad.

Recorded in Munich at the State Opera, The Out-of-Towners opens with Jarrett's improvised solo introduction before heading off into the full trio take on "I Can't Believe That You're In Love With Me". The sound is that typical live ECM thing, managing to get jazz club intimacy out of a concert hall. The muscularity of Peacock's bass, the beautiful dry DeJohnette ride cymbal, it's all right there.

The aforementioned mid-set title workout leads into the seemingly straight "Five Brothers" (Gerry Mulligan). Somewhere in the middle of those eleven minutes and twelve seconds, we're treated to a twisty, angular, but still swingin' bass improvisation, bracketed by lots of spirited piano soloing. Jarrett finishes off the set with a warm solo version of the romantic "It's All In The Game".

Another live "Standards Trio" record? Yes, please. I'm looking forward to the next one.

The Out-of-Towners will be released on August 31, 2004.

This coming weekend me & the wife will be attending a very special event. My friend Ty is getting married. Me and this guy go waaaay back. I've known him since I was about fifteen. We went to the same tiny little high school. He is responsible for intoducing me to some of the finer things in life, such as beer brewing, single malt scotch, and the music of The Who. Specifically, the album you see here.

My penchant (liability, sickness) for nostalgia concerning records coming out of my so-called formative years is well known. Live at Leeds brings up pile of memories from those years: some of 'em great (meeting and getting to know this guy), some of 'em silly (my drunken attempt to do a Pete Townshend with guitar imitation...and yes, I did succeed in shredding my right hand on the strings.)

Live at Leeds was originally released as a single record. Ty used to own the British import of this, which I coveted mightily. It came with that yummy Who, Maximum R&B poster. Because I fell in love with this record so many years ago, I actually still prefer the original song lineup. It seems like a scary-great distillation of those shows. This is not to say that the extened version is bad. Heck no. It shows The Who at the top of their early game. Still, what with my nostalgia and LP fetish and all...if I had a turntable in my car, I woulda busted out my original vinyl copy on the way to work.

So let this be my early congratulations to Tyler and Meg, who will be married this coming Monday...and who will make all sortsa people very happy.

It's weird...the connections that music, words and memories can spin up. Like this:

When I was just a kid we would sometimes get these phone calls from an elderly woman. Wish I could remember her name. She always asked for the same person (wish I could remember that name too...let's use "Alice".) Each time I would have to inform this poor lady that she'd dialed the wrong number. She seemed somewhat confused by this. Mostly, after some gentle convincing, she would just say "OK, thank you" and then hang up. One time though, I asked her if she knew Alice's last name. I was pleased to hear that she did, and engaged her some some smalltalk while I looked up the name in the phone book. It was a nearly triumphant feeling to be helping out this lady. Very satisfying.

Until the clicking started.

Our mystery caller had begun dialing her friend's number without first hanging up. It was heartbreaking. She seemed surprised to hear my voice after dialing Alice. I told her that she needed to hang up before dialing the new number.

And with that, she was gone. The confused calls vanished.

That was probably the first time in my young life that I understood the sentiment draped over "Hope I Die Before I Get Old".

Now, it's been a good number of years since that sad situation has come to mind. Today it came back via Rilo Kiley during "a man/me/then Jim":

a woman calls my house once a week she's always selling things some charity phone plan, a subscription to a magazine as i turned her down i always do there was something trembling in her voice i said hey, what troubles you? she said i'm surprised you noticed my husband he's leaving and i can't convince him to stay and he'll take our daughter with him she wants to go with him anyway i'm sorry i'm hard to live with but living is the problem for me i'm selling people things they don't want when i don't know what you need

Again, a story of an unusual intimacy via a telephone exchange. This is what the best kind of pop music can do. It's not just a story. If you're really taken with it, you can forget who you are. You live in the story. But that's only part of the magic. The music itself supports the suspension of your reality. While you're engrossed in this new world, you're also humming along, singing, drumming on the dashboard.

This happened to me a lot while listening to More Adventurous. The music shifts from power pop to folk to country-ish ballady things and back. It's great to hear a band play with so many textures. Not just guitar and keys, but mandolins, horns, vibraphones, orchestra bells, glockenspiels, mellotrons and strings. Lots and lots of texture. Jenny Lewis' sweet and expressive voice makes me think of Mary Lou Lord with a little Kay Hanley thrown in.

"Portions For Foxes" has that power pop thing where you're singing along with the very first chorus, already looking forward to the next. "I Never" begins as a country-ish ballad (that sorta wants to become "Hopelessly Devoted To You" meets "Ooh, Baby, Baby") that morphs into a string arrangement at the end, before laying out a dual guitar lead that's almost Allman-esque. Even guitarist Blake Sennett gets into the act with his solo acoustic "Ripchord". All pop music should be so internally eclectic. If there was musical justice, Rilo Kiley would be a household name.

Of course, you (mostly) can't change the world with pop music. But...you never know. Art serves many functions. One of them is building connections from people to other physical and mental worlds. Escapism? Yes, sometimes. But what I'm looking for is empathy.

During my recent trip to upstate New York I did manage to get some time at my favorite secret used record store. Hadn't been there in a while so the bins (and piles and crates on the floor) were crammed full 'o goodies.

For whatever reason, this time around I was drawn to mostly out of print obscurities. It was still a good haul, though smaller than average (hey, we'd been in the store for well over an hour & we were tired from the previous night's Dylan show...and lunch was calling.)

Connie Francis - The Very Best of Connie Francis, Volume 2

It doesn't have "Who's Sorry Now", but it does have "When The Boy In Your Arms (Is The Boy In Your Heart". That was worth the one dollar I paid for this sealed copy.

Ralph Towner - Blue Sun

One of Towner's solo records that features not only his guitar but a pile of other instruments including cornet, French horn, piano and percussion. Synthesizers don't generally do much for me where Towner is concerned, but he makes clever use of a Prophet 5 here.

Domenico Modugno - Viva Italia!

My godfather (Sal) used to embarrass me and my cousins by singing "Volare" in his very loud voice. Modugno had a big hit with his recording of that tune. With it's cool 1960's cover art and Decca Records label, this about jumped into my hands.

Joanne Brackeen - Ancient Dynasty

The first name that jumped out at me was the producer: Bob James. Smooth jazz from pianist Brackeen? That just doesn't seem possible. The other names cleared up the issue: Eddie Gomez on bass, Joe Henderson on saxophone and Jack DeJohnette on drums.

Interweave - Expedition

In a crate full of local (Oneonta) artists, this jazz trio album sounded interesting. Frank Giasullo (who contributed all of the compositions) on piano, John Davey on double bass and Patrick Tamminen on drums. The interesting part comes with the producer's name: Rudy Van Gelder. The trio has recently reunited under the name Extreme Measures.

Kazuhito Yamashita - Pictures At An Exhibition

This was the find of the weekend. I made a cassette recording years ago from a borrowed CD. It is Moussorgsky's classic transcribed for classical guitar...and it is just brilliant.

For some reason, I really, really, really,really enjoyed passing (in my tiny little car) the lard-butt SUV with "NO2ROE" vanity plate and "Bush/Cheney" bumper sticker.

I wonder if they enjoyed my "No W" window sticker?

So here's a question not often tossed around in the mind of a typical music fan: What's more expressive...the artist's music, or the artist's face?

OK, I'll admit it's a bizarre thought to be flashing by. In the case of Carla Bley though, I just can't help it. To make matters worse, Steve Swallow, her long time partner and (superb) bass player, also falls into that category of, uhm....funny-faced jazzer?

Seriously though, Bley does tend to build compositions that are loaded with both creativity and quirks. I mean, come on, the woman built a twenty-plus minute meditation based on "The Star Spangled Banner" (see Looking For America for Carla's take on Americana.)

The Lost Chords gives us Bley and Swallow along with Billy Drummond on drums and Andy Sheppard on soprano and tenor saxes. The music is what I've come to expect from Bley: it somehow manages to be introspective and effusive, serious and funny, swinging and funked out.

The title track suite is best explained by the composer:

I had come across the sheet music for a piece called "The Lost Chord", by Sir Arthur Bliss when I was a child. With great excitement I'd played the piece on the piano, hoping to discover a chord that was more beautiful than any I had ever heard. Unfortunately, the harmonies were rather ordinary, and the memory of that disappointment must have stuck with me longer than I could have imagined.

(I tell you, it does warm my heart to see that there are other creative types out there whose past experiences influence the present in surprising ways.) She goes on to explain...

For maybe the first time, the title for one of my pieces preceded its musical content. There was a dressing room piano at the last concert of the summer 2002 big band tour and, while everyone packed up,I decided to get a head start on my next project. I sat there and picked out some inspired, lost-sounding chords. I had to spell out their notes with a blunt pencil on the back of a program, since I had no manuscript paper. When I got home I couldn't find the program. Those seminal chords were truly and appropriately lost. But I managed to remember some aspects of them and immediately began work on the piece that was to become "Lost Chords"

So do the chords sound "lost". Well...yea. In a film-noirish sorta way. And if you want to hear what I think is the signature Steve Swallow thing, move on to Part II, wherein Steve lays down a blistering and slithery walking bassline.

The funny on this record comes in two doses. First, "Blind Mice", a Bley deconstruction/reconfiguration of the first thing she ever learned to play as a child. Second: "Red". What gives here? "Red" is named after "a chicken I had befriended".

For funked out please turn to "Hip Hop". It's a rompin' tune that makes me think of Monk in his best mood.

The Lost Chords was recorded live in October of 2003 during a tour of Europe. For more insight into the mind of Carla Bley, check out the Lost Chords tour journal on her equally wacky website.

Though Carla Bley does indeed sport an 'expressive' face, I'd have to give the nod to her music.

Expressive is an understatement.

Crap.

The Beginning Stages Of... - The Polyphonic Spree

I wish I could remember why, but at some point late yesterday afternoon, I found myself reading the editorial review/blurb entry for Ultimate Yes: 35th Anniversary Collection. In said blurb, they relate Yes' influence in the twee vocals area, going on to list 'influencees' such as The Flaming Lips and Polyphonic Spree.

This is one of those groups whose name I've seen here and there without initiating further investigations. Never heard a note of their stuff. So I pop over to Amazon and partake of a coupla samples.

What the hey?! This is reminiscent of so many things flower power. It's like, well....I haven't decided yet. OK, so they're billed as a "choral symphonic pop band". The CD wrapper namechecks Pet Sounds, the Flaming Lips and the Beatles. That's getting there. It's as though a group of ex-hippies who have an extreme Flaming Lips & Godspeed You Black Emperor fetish have decided to record a tribute to what they perceive as the best album of all time: Age of Aquarius, by the Fifth Dimension.

Add to this aural weirdness the fact that Polyphonic Spree is this big group (25, or so) of folks (from Texas...what the heck is in the water down there?) who perform in white robes. I tell ya, it's a pop version of Sun Ra's Archestra.

Ah..and the music itself. You will certainly hear lots of elements from all of the above namechecked groups, structures that unfold very much like Godspeed, twee-ish vocals via a chorus, and endlessly happy lyrics. Vocals like this would normally make me run away screaming, ears safely plugged with index fingers, tongue a waggin'. But somehow...it works. Even the 36 minute "A Long Day", a vocal collage that would make Philip Glass grin.

It's just weird enough.

Happy Friday the 13th.

Children of the 70's know the story of this guy. Played guitar in Humble Pie. Formed Frampton's Camel. Put out a few studio records (including this one) that more or less went unnoticed.

Then out comes Frampton Comes Alive! (I do want to get the 25th anniversary edition of that one, as soon as I get over the shock of twenty five fricken' years passing!) and the rest is history.

Well, almost.

After those heady times came, in what chronology I don't care to contemplate, I'm In You and that Sgt. Pepper movie (which I will now here admit to seeing twice...back-to-back on the same night at the movie theater.)

Those two things appeared to burst the Frampton phenomenon bubble. He just disappeared.

I did buy a record of his in the mid-1980's called Breaking All The Rules. Nothing earth-shattering there. More recently I picked up Live in Detroit, which does showcase what a fine guitar player he still is.

So what's with this original Frampton disc? I was visiting friends this past weekend and found it in the 3/$7 bin. Couldn't not get it. Boy, it's really, really weird to hear studio versions of tunes that have long been inhabiting my brain chemicals in entirely different forms.

And, ya know? The record ain't half bad. Strangely, it ends with "Penny For Your Thoughts"->"("I'll Give You) Money", just like on the original live record. Comfort for nostalgia freaks like me.

If you haven't already seen Alice Cooper's "Back To School" ad for Staples, it's definitely worth checking out.

That Alice guy just cracks me up.

It's been two years already? How the heck did that happen?

Check it out.

First of all, it was cold. I myself kinda like the spate of very,very early fall weather we've been having in the northeast, but having to sit on a metal bleacher for over three hours with the temps hovering in the 50's..well, that's pushing it a little. But anyhoo...

Openers Hot Club of Cowtown played a smokin' set of Western Swing. I will definitely be picking up one of their records as they were just too much fun.

Next up was the adoration of Willie Nelson. I wasn't really all that hot on Willie's band. The whole set had a kind of "let's run the list" feel to it. That isn't to say that it wasn't fun. Heck no. They started with "Whiskey River" and then proceeded to play a fricken' ton of hits. I tend to listen to Red Headed Stranger and Stardust a lot, so I kinda forget just how many tunes Willie has put out there. It was easy to put aside my thoughts on Willie's band though, as his voice still appears to be in fine form. I would just love to see him play at one of those dive bars he shows up at in Austin.

After a fairly long break (with much equipment thrashing onstage), Bob Dylan and his band hit the stage after the usual silly intro ("...Poet Laureate of Rock 'n Roll...") announced over Aaron Copeland's "Rodeo". This show was very much like the one I attended last summer up in New Hampshire. Dylan stuck to keyboards and harmonica all night. His band is muscular and rock solid. And, as the wife said, Dylan's voice: he has his low note, his medium note and his high note. This is a little perplexing because Dylan has managed to sing some melodies on his two most recent recordings. Maybe it's harder to do this in a live setting, having to belt it out over a loud rock band. Dunno.

In any event, it was a great show. Some may not like the way he has rearranged his songs, but I thought they were fun. The show ended with a blistering version of "All Along The Watchtower". Dylan may be 'getting up there', but he still likes to rock.

The setlist:

Drifter's Escape I'll Be Your Baby Tonight Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum Tonight I'll Be Staying Here With You Seeing The Real You At Last Girl Of The North Country (acoustic) Cold Irons Bound Make You Feel My Love I Don't Believe You Honest With Me Forever Young Summer Days (encore) Don't Think Twice, It's All Right (acoustic) Like A Rolling Stone All Along The Watchtower

The Times They Are A-Changin' - Bob Dylan

Red Headed Stranger - Willie Nelson

This is a an early Friday two-fer as I'm headed off to New York state this evening so as to be in position (Oneonta, NY) for tomorrow evening's Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson show in Cooperstown. The concert is being held at Doubleday Field and is part of Dylan & Nelson's summer tour of minor league ballparks.

I told a friend about the show and he wondered if two out of key voices would tend to cancel each other out. Hmmm...we'll see. I'm thinkin' this could be a great show. I saw Dylan last summer and it was nothing short of spectacular (and that was with no acoustic tunes.) Never had a chance to see Willie before, so this seems just about perfect.

My last trip to the den of black circles did indeed result in the purchase of some tasty selections. I've just been much too busy to 'process' them (which involves several hours of uninterrupted time, some new rice paper sleeves and a record cleaning machine that wishes it was a Shop Vac.)

So here's the haul presented in more or less random order. It's maybe not as eclectic as some, but does have some jazz, country, skronk and just plain weird music.

Tom Waits - Rain Dogs

I've only seen Waits in a live setting once. He started the show standing atop a box, hunched way over so as to reach down to the microphone. The top of the box had been covered with powder, so as Waits slammed his foot down with the beat a large cloud grew around him. As he completed the first chorus of "Jockey Full of Bourbon" he reached into his pocket and flipped a handful of glitter into the air. It was surreal. It was exhilarating...just like this record.

Emmylou Harris - Blue Kentucky Girl,Elite Hotel,Evangeline

Emmylou has had some great bands. This trio of records has a shifting lineup that includes the likes of James Burton, Albert Lee, Rodney Crowell, Ricky Skaggs, Bill Payne, Linda Ronstadt, Tanya Tucker and Tony Rice. Ah, and then there's the material: Harris originals, Crowell, Gram Parsons, Robbie Robertson, Hank Williams, Buck Owens, Doc Pomus, Willie Nelson. This stuff blows today's "hat country" right off the map.

Gary Burton & Steve Swallow - Hotel Hello

Gary Burton has make a pile of great solo and duet records. This gem from 1974 (check out the photos on the back cover) showcases a very young Burton and Swallow playing mostly Swallow and Carla Bley compositions.

Ornette Coleman - Twins

If you've ever been interested in Ornette's Free Jazz, but thought that it might be "too much", then this album might be worth a listen. The first track, "First Take", is literally a shorter version (17 minutes) of the Coleman classic. The double quartet lineup is impressive: Don Cherry, Scott LaFaro, Billy Higgins, Eric Dolphy, Freddie Hubbard, Charlie Haden and Ed Blackwell.

Lester Bowie - All The Magic!

The late horn man from the Art Ensemble of Chicago presents some large ensemble weirdness on record #1 and some solo weirdness on record #2. There is some blasphemous noise on the solo record. It's good for what ails ya.

The Black Earth Percussion Group

I live for this stuff. Four guys bangin', rattlin' and abusing various percussion instruments including: claves, maracas, meditation bells, brake drums,gongs, wood blocks, cymbals, buckets of water, sand paper block, flower pots, fluted cake pan and prepared piano. The one mystery is that the record label, Opus One, was based out of Greenville, Maine...not exactly a hotbed of cultural activity back in the mid-70's.

Captain Beefheart - Trout Mask Replica

If forced to make up a desert island list, this one would be one it. There are so many nooks & crannies of musical weirdness on it that it'll take you years reach full comprehension. Maybe by then the professor will have figured out how to make spark plugs out of sea shells.

There's an argument I like to use when 'defending' music. It goes something like this: any particular piece of music (song or album) exists independent of its surroundings. I tend to use this argument when discussing music and/or bands that have become very popular over time. Good examples might be Led Zeppelin in the classic rock world and, say, Michael Jackson in the pop world.

My most recent use of this argument actually did come in the defense Led Zeppelin. A statement was made that, because the listener had "burned out" on them years ago, he considered the music "lame" and therefore had no use for it. Now, I can't argue that it's not possible to "burn out" on something (this has happened to me too, but I tend to revisit things years later), but I can argue that it's not the music that has changed, it's the listener.

OK, now I get to show what a musical hypocrite I am by contradicting myself. In the case of Patti Scialfa, my 'rule' doesn't apply.

Some artists are so inextricably linked to personal memories that they are lifted to a higher level...a kind of reverse guilt-by-association. In her case it's the combined memories of years and years of Bruce Springsteen-related events: my first Bruce record (Darkness On The Edge Of Town), show (Richfield Coliseum, River tour...Southside Johnny came out at one point and they played "I Don't Want To Go Home"), walking into the University of Maine bookstore only to be surprised by Nebraska (I didn't know it was coming out), driving with a college buddy on the Park Loop Road in Acadia National Park at 70 mph while singing along to "Badlands", seeing Gary U.S. Bonds at the Cape Cod Coliseum, playing "Rosalita" to get cranked up before my first wedding ceremony (sorry Bruce, it didn't work out), the Southside Johnny show at the University of Maine, my wife's first show in Boston, and all those danged bootlegs.

This is not to say that Patti's music can't stand on its own. Far from it. I fell in love with her voice during the first 30 seconds of 1993's Rumble Doll. It's a sexy, vaguely raspy instrument with more than a touch of Roni Spector's vibrato. Patti used to sing the first verse of "Rumble Doll" during her solo/introduction at E Street Band shows...it killed every time.

Well, a lot has changed since 1993. On Patti's latest record, 23rd Street Lullaby, the theme is her early years in New York. I tell ya, this woman knows how to write a great pop tune. There's the lilting suggestiveness of the title track (I'm beginning to see that Bruce wasn't joking when he wrote "Red-Headed Woman"), the almost country-ish swing of City Boys and the pretty & meditative "Young In The City", the swelling near-gospel of "You Can't Go Back". It's this kind of record that makes me think back to parts of the 1970's, when "complete" albums came out like Rickie Lee Jones and Court & Spark.

Hats must also be doffed in the direction of producer Steve Jordan who did a fine job combining a fairly large list of musicians (a sample: Marc Ribot, Nils Lofgren, Larry Campbell, Bobby Bandiera, Will Lee, Greg Cohen, Bruce Springsteen, Jane Scarpantoni, John Medeski.) All of these guest players somehow sound like a band.

And, before I forget, violinist Soozie Tyrell is such a good match for Scialfa's voice. She's becoming "Patti's Clarence" in my mind.

I'm fairly confident that I would have loved this record even without the "weight" of the past chiming in. Of course, I can't prove it. But there's no place here for empiricism. This is music. It just exists.

Couldn't sleep last night because my back was fricken' killing me.

So I turn on the tube and engage in a little surfing. I swear, there must have been four separate channels show poker competitions of various levels of 'seriousness'. Celebrity poker, championship poker, etc. It's crazy.

Oh...and I still can't follow it. By the time they've turned over the last card and are sweeping the chips away, I'm still tryin' ta figure out why player number one has a 78% chance of taking the pot.

No wonder I hate games.