Currently listening to Best, 1991-2004 by Seal.

I reviewed a Seal record a while back. Haveta dig that out...but what I do remember was that I thought his voice was great but the production had too much sheen. Well, the second disc contains 'acoustic' versions of many of his hits. Oh yea, this is the real deal. This guy has an amazing voice.

Gotta work up a real review for this in the next coupla days.

Yes, reviewed yesterday and listened to today (and tomorrow and the day after, I bet). I've become completely besotted with this new U2 record. Can't get enough of it.

This morning there was absolutely no doubt as to which CD to pop into the car player on the way to work. From the thrill of "Vertigo" to the majesty of "One Step Closer", this is just one fine rock album.

Obviously, over the years there have been many other records that I've loved. But...there have been very few ("few" certainly bein' a relative description) that have tackled me hard on first listen (hmmm, I feel another post coming on). One that does come to mind is the first Van Halen record.

The "why" of these reactions is complicated. What's simple is the fun.

Isn't that why we listen?

For most reviews, I like to give the album several listens in a few different contexts: in the car to and from work, at work, at home on the 'real' stereo, maybe even via headphones at my home writing desk. Music is a huge part of my life and the material works its way under my skin. Slowly.

Given all of the whoorah about the new U2 record, I thought it'd be kinda fun to just type in my impressions as the first listen goes by. I picked up my copy of How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb while at lunch (tuna on a sesame bagel, small cup of broccoli soup), so I'm ready to go.

Vertigo

You've heard it, I've heard it (oooh, that danged iPod ad) and now I've heard the whole thing. Unos, dos, tres, catorce!...You say that this band is washed up? Riiight. This song kicks it and would have fit in easily beside tunes on The Joshua Tree or Achtung Baby. I don't care if they've 'sold out', this is a great fricken' song. Love the snarling guitar at the end.

Miracle Drug

It starts out very plaintively, with trademark chimey guitar notes in the background. Verses build up the tension slowly before the whole thing becomes anthemic. Very powerful. The slide guitar break is very effective as it holds back, disguising the EdgeExposion(®) to come.

Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own

The Boston Globe's Steve Morse thinks that some of Bono's best work here is in response to the death of his father. He might be right. Constructed somewhat like "One", this song bubbles over with emotion:

I know that we don't talk I'm sick of it all Can - you - hear - me - when - I Sing, you're the reason I sing You're the reason why the opera is in me

Love And Peace Or Else

Ominous synthesizers frame a swaggering tune that contains the kind of peace, love & war sentiments that drive some folks batty. Hey, what would a U2 record be without one of these things? Oh, and all of those bell-like guitar notes during the bridge...so choice.

City Of Blinding Light

Beginning with stuttering guitar (a la "I Will Follow"), this one has the U2 of old feel. I don't know what Bono's talking about, but I want to sing along.

All Because Of You

It's a tribute to a loved one, a parent, God. Dunno. Weirdly, if you remove the chimey guitar bits, you can imagine the Stones playing this song.

A Man And A Woman

Strummed acoustic guitars form the rhythmic bed for a heartfelt take on what it means to be in love, and what it means to value that love above all other things.

Crumbs From Your Table

Partially distorted guitar arpeggios and glockenspiel (I've gotta look up that word every damned time I use it). Wow...replace the chiming guitar solo with a few bent notes and you might have the E Street Band.

One Step Closer

"One step closer to knowing"....apparently, about the end. With it's spooky and swirling atmosphere, this song is just bound to be a huge hit at the live shows. It's again just dripping with emotion and builds and builds and builds...

Original Of The Species

Another anthem from the days of yore. Cripes, what took these guys so long to return to this particular form? I guess if you toss out all of the attempts at sounding "modern", this is what you get (though the last record really was a step in that direction).

Yahweh

U2 closes out the program with a fine example of what a 'spiritual' song can be. Too subtle for contemporary christian crowd? I'll have to ask the wife.

This albums rates right up there with The Joshua Tree or The Unforgettable Fire.

Washed up? No way.

I've been really diggin' all (OK, most) of the new and raw garagey/punkish music that's come along over that past few years. On top of the sheer adrenaline thrill of it all, it's been fun to decipher the influences. Bands like The Strokes and The Hives pull bits from The Velvet Underground and Iggy Pop (at least to these ears). A common thread in most of the 'modern garagers" seems to be a reverence for these early punk roots.

The Futureheads take this a step further by mixing in elements as seemingly unrelated as Art Rock (specifically, the symphonic rockers Yes) and New Wave. The harmonies and other vocal effects on the opener "Le Garage" immediately remind me of "We Have Heaven". This is while the rest of the tune explodes into a new incarnation of Gang of Four. The vocals also conjure up both The Proclaimers and XTC. This is definitely a case of the sum being much more than the parts.

Similarly, the music draws not only from many punk-related genres including Gang of Four (who get two mentions here because Andy Gill had a hand in the production), Devo and Fugazi. The guitar work includes staccato single-note blasts, angular arpeggios and rude, scraping chords. The rhythm section both supports and propels the music in a way that takes me back to the early Joe Jackson band (with Dave Houghton on drums and the incredible Graham Maby on bass).

The Futureheads are yet another counterexample to the argument that rock music is dead and/or there's nothing new under the sun. In this case, there's something both old and new.

P.S. Trust me, you can not turn this record up too loud.

One of the things I really, really love about this time of the year is the way the frost 'burns' off of objects as the sun hits 'em in the morning. On my drive in this morning I saw the following "smoking" objects: the side of my house, a road sign, a street sign.

Just too cool.

Last night I was sitting in front of my computer, sending out some work-related email. Sitting on the shelves above my desk were a few random books (random in that they somehow ended up in the wife's education boxes, so they were 'rediscovered ' during TheGreatUnpack).

One of the books was Expect Nothing, a slim volume of short essays applying the Buddhist concept of attachment to everyday life. I get this idea...that you create unnecessary pressure on yourself (and others) by focusing on what could be. Turning that into action? Well, that's not so simple.

For instance, over the past six months or so, there's been this state of flux going on at home as we've prepared a house for sale, waited (and waited, and waited) for a buyer to come along, dealt with the logistics of actually moving, etc. And of course while that was going on there was (and is) stuff to deal with at work, the wife starting a new job, a maddening presidential season, reviews to write, dinners to cook...you know...I think they call it life.

Would any of this been easier if I wasn't so worried about the final result. Probably. I'd love to get to that place (but sure have my doubts).

This morning me & the wife are headed out, first to have breakfast at one of those quintessentially New England pancake houses (used to be a barn, they make their own syrup, the tables are made from slabs of trees, it's heated with woodstoves) and then to attend two house closings. If all goes well there we can sit back and enjoy the idea that that chapter is finally closed.

Maybe those few short essays have changed my thinking a litte, as the pessimist in me in not at all worried about disaster at the lawyer's office.

Right now, I'm just looking forward to my pumpkin pancake and that first cup of coffee.

This record is currently out of print. Maybe it's the legalities involved in dealing with such a large cast. Maybe it's record company incompetence. I don't know. What I do know is that it's one fantastic, diverse and powerful tribute to Thelonious Monk.

I've got a freshly 'minted' copy of the CD thanks to a good friend of mine who has taken to digitizing out of print vinyl via his computer and ultra-swanky Basis turntable. In the long run, I suppose that it's just not worth the record companies' time/money to be dealing with this stuff. Seems a shame, given the enormous list of treasures out there (which is just one of the reasons I'm still into vinyl).

Anway, back to that 'diversity' thing. Musicians from the worlds of traditional jazz, the New York 'Downtown' scene, pop and rock all contribute. The result, while not as, uhmm, ambient as on Wilner's Weird Nightmare - Meditations On Mingus, is still impressive. A partial list: Steve Kahn, Donald Fagan, Steve Lacey, Dr. John, Carla Bley, Joe Jackson, NRBQ, John Zorn, Eugene Chadbourne, Peter Frampton, Randy Weston, Todd Rundgren, Don Was, Anton Fig.

There are just too many highlights to deal with here. Straight readings, twisted versions, joy, doom, humor. It was all there in Monk's music, and it's here too. Check it out (if you can).

You know, I've always said that beer can never be too hoppy. I mean, I'm a hophead. Love 'em!

Well, a couple of nights ago I had a beer called "Hazed and Infused". It is full of Chinook, Willamette, Cascades hops AND is dry-hopped with Crystal and Centennial. Yow! With no malty sweetness (at least none that I could detect) as a counterbalance, each mouthfull literally made the the hair on my arms stand at attention.

Cripes, I'm getting that 'puckery' feeling right now just thinking about it.

When listening to most kinds of music, I'm tempted (maybe tempted isn't the right word, since this is more of a reflex) to bathe myself in not only the particulars of the music (and perhaps the lyrics) but also in the memories that have attached themselves to it.

What was I doing when I first heard this record? Who was I with? Was I happy?

Ah, but nostalgia takes many forms. I've been talking about musical nostalgia here, but there's also nostalgia of place. Everybody know s about that one. A room that reminds you of what your bedroom looked like when you were a little kid....the park where you played baseball after school...the college classroom where you met your future spouse.

Memory's a funny thing though, as all of these nostalgia fragments refuse to be pigeonholed. You listen to a piece of music and it reminds you of a place...which has its own set of remembrances. Drive by an old girlfriend's house and the melody of 'your' song will float back into your head.

Over the past month or so, I've been heavily involved in two things: 1) packing and moving my family to a new house and 2) listening to The Ditty Bops. Activity #1 is at least partially responsible for activity #2. See, all but a handful of my CD's have been tucked away in boxes, leaving me with about a dozen discs.

During all of this upheaval, a couple of unexpected things happened. The first was the unsettling emergence of all sorts of memories related to our 'old' house. As I walked around the mostly empty rooms, the mental postcards began to pile up: the wedding in the living room, news of a homeless relative, woodworking projects with my dad. On and on it went. The echoes bouncing off the walls were not just acoustic.

The second unexpected item? That I was able to use The Ditty Bops as an oasis and refuge. I mean, this almost never happens to me. When my brain is spouting off these kind of mental sparks, the 'remedy' is usually time. Instead, I was able to lose myself in the odd stories, sideways harmonies and creative instrumental structures.

At first it was the voices that drew me in. Amanda Barrett and Abby DeWald remind me of The Roches. Maybe with slightly less harmonic weirdness. Both of their voices also remind me of the great and underappreciated Deborah Holland. Mix in a little of Suzanne Vega's understated sexiness and, well, there's somethin' going on here.

As if the disturbingly beautiful vocals weren't enough, the lyrics also cast their spell. The opening "Walk or Ride" (a song that may or may not be about making the right choices while living this life) starts off innocently enough:

With just one kiss you could change the world It might not be much better but it certainly wouldn't hurt

You can say that the third verse gets a little weird with:

I saw an educated girl give her hair a twirl And contemplate the meaning of a man with just one arm

You can also say things turn a little David Lynchian in the final verse:

You might find the meaning of life in the barrel of a rifle If it's pointed at a bird or it's pointed at your head

The music itself ranges from fairly simple girls-with-acoustic guitars to roaring 20's shuffles ("Sister Kate"). A whole pile of extra instruments make appearances including piano, mandolin, banjo, ukulele, dulcimer, violin and trombone.

This music is exactly the kind of thing I like to refer to when I hear complaints about how there's "nothing good out there". This stuff is beyond good, and it borders on criminal that The Ditty Bops have not caught on yet.

Now, of course, I won't be able to listen to The Ditty Bops without thinking of those few bittersweet weeks of old house memories. But that's OK. Music can serve many functions. Helping people through some tough times is certainly a noble enough cause.

This is not a blues tune but...I woke up this morning and snowflakes were floating to the ground.

I stepped outside to partake of the morning ritual (retrieving the news papers) and, as we like to say in New England, it smelled like snow. It's really an odd thing, but when a snowstorm is approaching it really does bring a distinctive smell.

I have been dreading the arrival of winter this year ("I'm not ready!!! Where'd I put those danged shovels?!!"). Mostly though, I just love it all. The snow, the cold, the muddy boots walking across the living room floor (ok, not really that last thing). But like other things we can do nothing about (death, taxes, more Tupac Shakur releases) those seasons bull their way into our lives.

So what kind of music reminds you of the arrival of winter? Holiday stuff? George Winston? Kenny G's Wonderbread-ish, shellac-coated "White Christmas"?

The sorta glacial movement of the seasons, winter in particular, tips me toward the music of Philip Glass. Music With Changing Parts is especially well-suited as the main motif is set up and then changed very, very, very...slowly.

It's like a musical kaleidoscope that's turned one degree per hour.

Good gawd, I am never moving again. Most of my stuff is still in boxes. I'm exhausted.

However, I do have a review scratched out on a piece of paper. It's at least as interesting as all of the hooey that John Ashcroft scratched out in his resignation letter. I'm post it tomorrow. Honest.

From the resignation letter of John Ashcroft:

"The objective of securing the safety of Americans from crime and terror has been achieved."

Now THAT's funny!!!

Last night's rain moved off the coast this morning and the sun came blasting out, along with a brisk wind. The leaves that are left on the trees were lit up in various shades of neon-ish reds and yellows. I was in the mood for something upbeat, something irreverent, something...oh...just a little nutty.

Joey Baron's RAIsed pleasure dot was the answer. Here we have a (very) nonstandard "jazz" trio consisting of Ellery Eskelin on tenor saxophone, Steve Swell on trombone and the wacky-yet-precise drums of leader Joey Baron.

The music sways from the pensive "Boss Hog" (you wouldn't think a tune with that title would be pensive, would ya?), where unison sax and trombone carve out a searching melody, to absolutely raucus ("Unleashing The Dobermans").

As with most Baron-related recordings, there's also a goodly handful of humour. I mean, how can you not like a tune named "Hey, Hockaloogie"? It strikes me as a twisted, free-form take on the Three Stooges theme (and if that kind of thing gets you going, I urge you to check out Baron's Tongue In Groove...which contains the brutally crazy & fun "Scottie Pippen").

Things've been too serious recently.

For his 21st birthday, I bought stepson #2 a brand spankin' new turntable. That's right, one of them funny contraptions that spins a vinyl record around and produces some lovely sounds.

He's heard me get all misty about how great records can sound and was getting more curious as time went on. Then one night I set out to prove it. Instead of doing what I'd usually do though (which would be to pull out a jazz album) I picked AC/DC's Back In Black. I've still got my original vinyl copy in fairly good condition. We've also got the remastered CD.

Well, as stereo snobs sometimes like to say, the differences were not subtle. This was particularly true when the cymbal crashes kicked in during the intro to "Hell's Bells". There's just something about the slow decay of a cymbal hit that's tough to faithfully reproduce in the digital realm. On the analog side the initial attack was more pronounced and 'wet', the shimmering decay lingering clearly.

Stepson #2 was impressed.

Since he'd been getting into a bit of classic rock recently (Black Sabbath & Led Zeppelin by way of Metallica), I thought I'd send him a list of records to choose from. Tops on that list were Are You Experienced and Axis: Bold As Love, those followed closely by Electric Ladyland.

That list was emailed a day or two ago. Today though, I was out at lunch thinking that it'd be fun to buy a CD. In my hazy state (Red Sox hangover, moving hangover, cold and/or flu hangover, election hangover) I just couldn't remember which artist I'd recommended. Then I turn on the radio (Emerson College, WERS) and they're playing a jazz vocal version of "The Wind Cries Mary" by an artist named Jamie Cullum. I didn't like that particular version so much, but it did give my brain a kick, letting loose the Jimi Hendrix name.

After a quick stop at the local bagel shop (tuna on a spinach bagel with carrots, sprouts and a slice of havarti) I dropped into the CD store and bought Electric Ladyland.

I've never owned this on CD. It's about time.

Dang, that Hendrix guy had some ideas.

The GreatW(tm) has won again. Even better, the republicans picked up some seats in the senate.

Not only do they have enough power to shoot themselves in the foot, they can now blow off their whole fricken' leg.

Oh yea, the next for years are gonna be somethin', i tell ya.

Yay, the day is finally here. Wake me when it's over.

In the meantime, check out all the Election Coverage over at BlogCritics.