This is the DVD release of a 1971 documentary on Ravi Shankar, originally released by Apple Films under the auspices of George Harrison. It has, in a sense, been superseded by a number of other documentaries which have brought the artist’s story up-to-date. Nevertheless, this is s splendid portrait of a unique historical period, a time when it looked as if Indian and Western culture would blend together in new and - we thought - permanent ways. Alas, it never quite happened in the way many of us who watched the 1960’s unfold hoped it would. And the answer as to why the anticipated fusion of East and West never fully materialized may be found right here in this film, in the images of director Howard Worth and the words of Ravi Shankar himself.
Watching this film with 40 years of hindsight available to us, it is fascinating to see what has changed in the bi-cultural world which Ravi Shankar occupied, and what has not. A number of scenes of Indian culture which are not directly related to Ravi Shankar and/or the Hindustani classical arts typified by the musical phenomenon known as the “raga” are included, to give us an idea of a traditional way of life in India which Shankar felt was dying. To be sure, urban India has been altered irrevocably by Western-influenced, technology-driven modernization, but the traditional culture has not fully disappeared by any means. Western culture, as represented here by the “hippie” subculture which embraced Ravi Shankar’s music, even though most its members failed to understand what that music was really all about, has changed, and some of us mourn those changes. Our tolerance for “outsiders” has dwindled. Our eagerness to embrace the new, the spiritual, the transcendant is no longer as strong an impulse as it once was. Our understanding of how the arts function as a vital part of a rational life is under constant assault. In an odd way, it is the scenes of America, focusing on Ravi Shankar’s visit to his school of Indian music in California, that look dated to us now, not the scenes of life in India.
In essence, this is - and always has been - a movie about music and a very special musician, and in that sense it succeeds admirably. The performances by Ravi Shankar and his long-time tabla player Alla Rakha (who is very much the film’s co-star), excerpted throughout the film, are substantial and satisfying. At one point, we even get to see the two friends delighting students by chanting the bols, the mnemonic, rhythmically-recited syllables used as a learning device by Indian percussionists, which have now become a performance art in their own right.
We also get to see Ravi Shankar in teaching mode, passing on his wisdom to hopeful young Hindustani musicians-in-training through the time-honored method of oral transmission, favored for centuries in India over our reading-off-the-page method of music education. We also see a rehearsal, in which Shankar prepares an orchestra for a Bombay recording session (film soundtrack?), The ensemble consists of both Western and Hindustani instruments, including violins, flutes, sitars, tabla, and such less rarely encountered (by Western devotees of Hindustani music, at least) as the santoor (a hammered dulcimer) and jal-tarang (a series of ceramic bowls tuned with varying amounts of water and struck with wooden sticks). We also see Shankar and his great friend, the American-born, English-based classical violinist Yehudi Menuhin, rehearsing and performing onstage one of their “West Meets East” collaborations. Other traditional musicians are heard on the soundtrack, as well as Vedic chanters. So there is a great deal to listen to and absorb over the course of an hour-and-a-half-plus.
There is also a lot to see. The scenes of India are beautifully shot, whether during a train journey, in the midst of big-city bustle, or along the Ganges. The visuals are so well-done that portions of this film could be used for travelog purposes, while the footage of American rock festivals could fit into historical documentaries of the late 60’s/early 70’s. The film ends with Shankar walking along a rocky coastline - presumably in California? - that is quite stunning.
But the narration by Shankar is what makes the most significant impression on the viewer by the end of the film. He tells us how it was his hope since the days of his youth, spent as a dancer/musician with his brother Uday’s internationally touring dance troupe, to introduce the beauties of Indian classical music to audiences in the West. His reception by Western audiences, beginning tentatively in the 1950’s and accelerating throughout the 1960’s, seemed to be the culmination of his dreams - “To be received like this in a foreign land; my God, it is overwhelming”. But then disillusionment began to set in. The object of his desire was to broach the gap between Western and Eastern classical music forms. The interest in his music engendered in the world of pop music, thanks largely to George Harrison - this film is the source of now-Youtube-famous clip of the sitar lesson which Shankar gives to Harrison - was not something Shankar could have predicted. However, the use of the sitar and other Indian elements in the pop/rock world in the late 1960’s proved to be superficial at best, exotic sounds inserted into rock hits with no real understanding or attempt to truly bring together the two musical worlds. (Some of Harrison’s work being the closest exceptions.)
Perhaps even more disheartening was the fact that Americans who did claim to be serious about learning Indian music proved to be far too impatient, unwilling to devote themselves to years of study under one teacher. Indian music takes years of hard, serious work to master. Shankar describes the arduous process of learning from a musical guru, and the amount of devotion the student must lavish on his/her musical studies. It was not something that could be absorbed quickly. Too many of his American acolytes were “in such a hurry” to become instant geniuses, as it were. In a field in which years of concentrated study were not a luxury, but a necessity, Shankar found that many of his American students would “learn a few scales, and in a few weeks they want to play a raga completely. They have to demand more of themselves.” He adds, “You cannot simply pick up a sitar and call it Indian music. It is so much more.” Director Worth tries to illustrate Shankar’s disillusionment and confusion, coupled with Americans’ misunderstandings and impatience, by constructing a quick-cut, speeded-up collage metaphorically depicting the clash of Indian and American cultures. It may have been exciting to watch forty years ago, in the pre-MTV era. But to me, Shankar’s words carry far more impact than Worth’s rather gimmicky, ultimately pointless, pseudo-psychedelic collage.
As history has shown us, Shankar would soon retreat from the world of rock festivals, the company of people who felt that the consumption of illicit drugs was a vital part of the process of enlightenment, the hustle and bustle of the popular music scene. He has devoted the years since the initial release of this film to composition (including film scores and orchestral works), performances before sympathetic audiences, teaching in universities and selected students such as his daughter and eventual musical successor, Anoushka Shankar, and overseeing the establishment of Ravi Shankar Foundation, which is dedicated to continuing his mission of preserving and disseminating Indian music to the world. (The East Meets West Music label which issued this DVD is a division of the Foundation.)
As a bonus, the package includes a download card for a CD’s worth of mp3’s of the film’s soundtrack. Unlike some such cards packaged with CD’s or DVD’s, I had no problem at all obtaining this material. It should be noted that, while most of the music has been scored or performed by Ravi Shankar, the closing credits include a listing for “additional music and score by Collin Walcott”. Walcott, who died in 1984, was one of Shankar’s more serious American students. One of his most notable accomplishments was helping to expand the use of the sitar and tablas long after the “craze” was over, in his work with the Paul Winter Consort and the pioneering world-jazz quartet Oregon. It should be noted that the other members of Oregon are also listed among the participating musicians in the film. The soundtrack mp3’s include most of the film’s music, plus a couple spoken comments on the nature of Indian music by Ravi Shankar.
Anyone interested in Ravi Shankar will most definitely want/need to see this important film, which is far more than simply a relic of a particular place and time. It will also appeal greatly to anyone who wants to better understand the psychedelic era and its flirtation with Eastern cultures. The East Meets West label is distributed by Harmonia Mundi, and should not be difficult to find.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
“Down Home Music: A Journey Through The Heartland 1963” (Arhoolie Foundation)
Now THIS is a treat, musically and, perhaps even more so, historically.
In 1963, a German documentarian named Dietrich Wawzyn came to the US with the thought of filming “famous jazz musicians”. Fortunately for posterity, he had only a somewhat vague idea of who and what he was looking for, as well as an open mind towards the many non-jazz musical riches he did find. Thankfully, he had the good sense to acquire as “tour guide” - he also performed sound/lighting duties - Arhoolie Records boss Chris Strachwitz, a German immigrant who was already beginning to establish a reputation for documenting and disseminating on LP’s what we now often refer to as American Roots Music. Wawzyn found relatively few “famous jazz musicians”, but thanks to Strachwitz’ able guidance, he uncovered - and filmed - many regional and ethnic musical gems which might otherwise be lost to us. This documentary DVD gathers together much of the footage Wawzyn took during their trip across the Southern part of the US, from California to North Carolina. Alas, other footage has been lost through the years, but what remains is a wonderful record of a musical era now nearly gone.
The journey begins in Strachwitz’ home territory, the San Francisco Bay area, with the high-spirited one-man-band Jesse “Lone Cat Fuller”, of “San Francisco Bay Blues” renown. Though other footage of Fuller is readily available, it’s always a treat to see Fuller in action, sitting at his home-made rig consisting of 12-string guitar, harmonica, kazoo, percussion and a foot-pedal-powered string bass called a “footdella”. Most of the musicians on this disc come, like Fuller, from purely traditional backgrounds. But 1963 was, you may recall, a very good year for the so-called “folk revival”. So it’s not too surprising to see a couple performances by “contemporary” performers, though in both cases these “revival” performers were doing much older material in a style based on earlier musical approaches. Since filming took place around the time of the jug-band boomlet, we are treated to the Goodtime Washboard 3, an entertaining trio with a lineup of banjo, washboard (with accessories), and washtub bass. We also hear longtime Bay area blues singer and political activist Barbara Dane (who, at nearly 84, is one of the very few performers on this disc who is still with us.), singing “Careless Love”. Our Bay Area sojourn continues with the great urban blues singer-guitarist Lowell Fulson, performing in his natural context, an inner-city bar. We then do a 180-degree turn to the once-famous preacher King Louis Narcisse, filmed during services.
This idea of showcasing performers in their natural contexts carries throughout most of the film. Occasionally, however, footage of a performer is juxtaposed with clips of daily life in another town, giving a semblance of authenticity without being totally “staged”. I think we can forgive this indiscretion, since nothing looks so totally out-of-place that it detracts from the value of either the music or the lifestyles being depicted.
Wawzyn leaves California and heads to Arizona, where he captures the rarely heard sights and sounds of an old-fashioned Tohono O’odham Indian waila string band, from the days before the saxophone and accordion came to dominate the Northern Mexican/Texan-influenced polka music of the area. Once again. much of what Wawzyn and Strachwitz found in Arizona is religious in nature, highlighted by the near-legendary street preacher/singer/guitarist Rev. Louis Overstreet, as well as his quartet-style gospel harmonizing sons. We see both white and black Holiness preachers in action, generating the sort of rabid reaction from their listeners one would never witness in a mainstream Protestant church. These religious segments add up to a substantial percentage of the film’s 75-minute running time, yet they preserve American folkways which are rarely seen by most Americans. We as a people are culturally richer because of the availability of scenes such as this.
In New Mexico, we see the once-fabled Navajo singer Ed Lee Natay, accompanying himself with a large drum, amidst scenes of home life on the reservation. We also see Natay in his other role, as a country-music DJ. We also see Apache singer Chief White Cloud, also self-accompanied on drum. With today’s media emphasis on representing American Indian culture (if at all) by showing pow-wow drums and dancers, it’s instructive to recall the classic solo singers who seemed to dominate Native recording in the 1950’s.
On to Texas, which is where the Arhoolie story really began, when Strachwitz released his first album, by sharecropper/songster Mance Lipscomb. We see Lipscomb singing the St. Louis Jimmy Oden hit from the early 1940’s, “Going Down Slow”, on what I take to be his front porch, a reminder that not all songs recorded by traditional artists in traditional settings derive from purely traditional sources. The audio commentary track informs us that while Lipscomb is singing in Navasota, the contrasting scenes of daily life were actually filmed in Houston. In Fort Worth, we hear B. K. Turner, professionally known as Black Ace, singing his signature song while deftly manipulating his guitar slide. Hop Wilson plays electric steel guitar in a far-too-brief scene filmed in Wilson’s natural musical setting, a barroom. Pianist Whistling Alex Moore demonstrates where his nickname came from, as he plays boogie-woogie on a rundown piano. The big name in the Texas segment, though, is Sam “Lightnin’” Hopkins, singing one of his typically self-referential songs as well as shooting dice (HIS natural setting), plus a quick boogie-guitar instrumental.
In Louisiana, we get a sample of Cajun music (only one, but it’s better than none) from Shorty Leblanc, who briefly achieved minor celebrity status as the accordionist on Cleveland Crochet’s “Sugar Bee”. That 1961 hit had been sung by Jay Stutes, whom I believe to be the steel guitarist in this clip. In Baton Rouge, we hear Willie Thomas, whose style seems to incorporate equal parts blues and Holiness sermonizing. In New Orleans, Wawzyn hits the jackpot by locating an honest-to-goodness “famous jazz musician”, clarinetist George Lewis, heard here in a quartet derived from an early edition of the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, with Louis Nelson on trombone. Lewis’ pianist, “Sweet Emma” Barrett, brings down the house singing “None of My Jelly Roll”, in a style which seems to be situated on the borderline between ragtime and vaudeville-blues. We also get a glimpse at a New Orleans-style funeral, with the Eureka Brass Band playing a dirge on the way to the cemetery, changing to an uptempo romp on the way back.
We cross into Mississippi to hear the rural string-band strains of the Hodges Brothers, poor white farmers in a poverty-stricken area of Bogue Chitto. If the Hodges represent country music at its most traditional, the next three segments, recorded in Nashville, are strictly show-biz. The Lewus Family were an important bluegrass-gospel ensemble during that period. Red Sovine reproduces the recording session that spawned his hit single “Why Baby Why”. It sounds positively old-fashioned in this era of Rascal Flatts and Lady Antebellum, but it no doubt seemed plenty commercial in 1963, particularly in contrast to the rest of the DVD. Even more oriented toward popular entertainment is the gimmicky, yet entertaining comedy-with-music act of the Willis Brothers, whose studio-produced hits such as “Give Me 40 Acres” in no way prepare you for the cheerful tomfoolery of their live act seen here. Another, far more hidden side of Nashville is uncovered as we encounter the black string-band music of Blind James Campbell and his band of street musicians, playing fiddle, guitars, and tuba, a part of Nashville’s musical heritage rarely documented on film or recordings.
The Appalachian string-band tradition is represented by North Carolina’s J. E. Mainer and the Mountaineers, a classic 30’s band which was still actively recording in the 1960’s. It would have been appropriate for the film to have ended there - having traced significant portions of American roots music from the West Coast to the East. But as the credits roll, we get to hear a Nashville-based German-born country singer of the era named Eddie Schaible, a reminder that this film was, after all, originally shot for the German audience. Schaible is agreeable enough, but not distinctive to the point where he had any chance to crack the American country-music market. A pleasant curiosity, which would not have been missed if it had been omitted.
But that’s one of the very few false moves in an otherwise fascinating musical journey. To add to the disc’s value, there is an audio commentary track, in which Chris Strachwitz reminiscences about the making of the film - how it came about, memories of the musicians, musings over the contexts in which the music was made and documented, sprinkled with a few anecdotes.
In short, I must give this my highest recommendation to anyone who loves this music, its history, the people who performed it and, for that matter, the people who listened to and supported this music for all of its years. Virtually all of these artists are gone now, their music with them, the world in which they lived altered for all time. All we have is what was captured on sound recordings and film. And we truly do not have nearly enough film documentation. This DVD goes a long way in keeping these traditions alive for generations to come.
In 1963, a German documentarian named Dietrich Wawzyn came to the US with the thought of filming “famous jazz musicians”. Fortunately for posterity, he had only a somewhat vague idea of who and what he was looking for, as well as an open mind towards the many non-jazz musical riches he did find. Thankfully, he had the good sense to acquire as “tour guide” - he also performed sound/lighting duties - Arhoolie Records boss Chris Strachwitz, a German immigrant who was already beginning to establish a reputation for documenting and disseminating on LP’s what we now often refer to as American Roots Music. Wawzyn found relatively few “famous jazz musicians”, but thanks to Strachwitz’ able guidance, he uncovered - and filmed - many regional and ethnic musical gems which might otherwise be lost to us. This documentary DVD gathers together much of the footage Wawzyn took during their trip across the Southern part of the US, from California to North Carolina. Alas, other footage has been lost through the years, but what remains is a wonderful record of a musical era now nearly gone.
The journey begins in Strachwitz’ home territory, the San Francisco Bay area, with the high-spirited one-man-band Jesse “Lone Cat Fuller”, of “San Francisco Bay Blues” renown. Though other footage of Fuller is readily available, it’s always a treat to see Fuller in action, sitting at his home-made rig consisting of 12-string guitar, harmonica, kazoo, percussion and a foot-pedal-powered string bass called a “footdella”. Most of the musicians on this disc come, like Fuller, from purely traditional backgrounds. But 1963 was, you may recall, a very good year for the so-called “folk revival”. So it’s not too surprising to see a couple performances by “contemporary” performers, though in both cases these “revival” performers were doing much older material in a style based on earlier musical approaches. Since filming took place around the time of the jug-band boomlet, we are treated to the Goodtime Washboard 3, an entertaining trio with a lineup of banjo, washboard (with accessories), and washtub bass. We also hear longtime Bay area blues singer and political activist Barbara Dane (who, at nearly 84, is one of the very few performers on this disc who is still with us.), singing “Careless Love”. Our Bay Area sojourn continues with the great urban blues singer-guitarist Lowell Fulson, performing in his natural context, an inner-city bar. We then do a 180-degree turn to the once-famous preacher King Louis Narcisse, filmed during services.
This idea of showcasing performers in their natural contexts carries throughout most of the film. Occasionally, however, footage of a performer is juxtaposed with clips of daily life in another town, giving a semblance of authenticity without being totally “staged”. I think we can forgive this indiscretion, since nothing looks so totally out-of-place that it detracts from the value of either the music or the lifestyles being depicted.
Wawzyn leaves California and heads to Arizona, where he captures the rarely heard sights and sounds of an old-fashioned Tohono O’odham Indian waila string band, from the days before the saxophone and accordion came to dominate the Northern Mexican/Texan-influenced polka music of the area. Once again. much of what Wawzyn and Strachwitz found in Arizona is religious in nature, highlighted by the near-legendary street preacher/singer/guitarist Rev. Louis Overstreet, as well as his quartet-style gospel harmonizing sons. We see both white and black Holiness preachers in action, generating the sort of rabid reaction from their listeners one would never witness in a mainstream Protestant church. These religious segments add up to a substantial percentage of the film’s 75-minute running time, yet they preserve American folkways which are rarely seen by most Americans. We as a people are culturally richer because of the availability of scenes such as this.
In New Mexico, we see the once-fabled Navajo singer Ed Lee Natay, accompanying himself with a large drum, amidst scenes of home life on the reservation. We also see Natay in his other role, as a country-music DJ. We also see Apache singer Chief White Cloud, also self-accompanied on drum. With today’s media emphasis on representing American Indian culture (if at all) by showing pow-wow drums and dancers, it’s instructive to recall the classic solo singers who seemed to dominate Native recording in the 1950’s.
On to Texas, which is where the Arhoolie story really began, when Strachwitz released his first album, by sharecropper/songster Mance Lipscomb. We see Lipscomb singing the St. Louis Jimmy Oden hit from the early 1940’s, “Going Down Slow”, on what I take to be his front porch, a reminder that not all songs recorded by traditional artists in traditional settings derive from purely traditional sources. The audio commentary track informs us that while Lipscomb is singing in Navasota, the contrasting scenes of daily life were actually filmed in Houston. In Fort Worth, we hear B. K. Turner, professionally known as Black Ace, singing his signature song while deftly manipulating his guitar slide. Hop Wilson plays electric steel guitar in a far-too-brief scene filmed in Wilson’s natural musical setting, a barroom. Pianist Whistling Alex Moore demonstrates where his nickname came from, as he plays boogie-woogie on a rundown piano. The big name in the Texas segment, though, is Sam “Lightnin’” Hopkins, singing one of his typically self-referential songs as well as shooting dice (HIS natural setting), plus a quick boogie-guitar instrumental.
In Louisiana, we get a sample of Cajun music (only one, but it’s better than none) from Shorty Leblanc, who briefly achieved minor celebrity status as the accordionist on Cleveland Crochet’s “Sugar Bee”. That 1961 hit had been sung by Jay Stutes, whom I believe to be the steel guitarist in this clip. In Baton Rouge, we hear Willie Thomas, whose style seems to incorporate equal parts blues and Holiness sermonizing. In New Orleans, Wawzyn hits the jackpot by locating an honest-to-goodness “famous jazz musician”, clarinetist George Lewis, heard here in a quartet derived from an early edition of the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, with Louis Nelson on trombone. Lewis’ pianist, “Sweet Emma” Barrett, brings down the house singing “None of My Jelly Roll”, in a style which seems to be situated on the borderline between ragtime and vaudeville-blues. We also get a glimpse at a New Orleans-style funeral, with the Eureka Brass Band playing a dirge on the way to the cemetery, changing to an uptempo romp on the way back.
We cross into Mississippi to hear the rural string-band strains of the Hodges Brothers, poor white farmers in a poverty-stricken area of Bogue Chitto. If the Hodges represent country music at its most traditional, the next three segments, recorded in Nashville, are strictly show-biz. The Lewus Family were an important bluegrass-gospel ensemble during that period. Red Sovine reproduces the recording session that spawned his hit single “Why Baby Why”. It sounds positively old-fashioned in this era of Rascal Flatts and Lady Antebellum, but it no doubt seemed plenty commercial in 1963, particularly in contrast to the rest of the DVD. Even more oriented toward popular entertainment is the gimmicky, yet entertaining comedy-with-music act of the Willis Brothers, whose studio-produced hits such as “Give Me 40 Acres” in no way prepare you for the cheerful tomfoolery of their live act seen here. Another, far more hidden side of Nashville is uncovered as we encounter the black string-band music of Blind James Campbell and his band of street musicians, playing fiddle, guitars, and tuba, a part of Nashville’s musical heritage rarely documented on film or recordings.
The Appalachian string-band tradition is represented by North Carolina’s J. E. Mainer and the Mountaineers, a classic 30’s band which was still actively recording in the 1960’s. It would have been appropriate for the film to have ended there - having traced significant portions of American roots music from the West Coast to the East. But as the credits roll, we get to hear a Nashville-based German-born country singer of the era named Eddie Schaible, a reminder that this film was, after all, originally shot for the German audience. Schaible is agreeable enough, but not distinctive to the point where he had any chance to crack the American country-music market. A pleasant curiosity, which would not have been missed if it had been omitted.
But that’s one of the very few false moves in an otherwise fascinating musical journey. To add to the disc’s value, there is an audio commentary track, in which Chris Strachwitz reminiscences about the making of the film - how it came about, memories of the musicians, musings over the contexts in which the music was made and documented, sprinkled with a few anecdotes.
In short, I must give this my highest recommendation to anyone who loves this music, its history, the people who performed it and, for that matter, the people who listened to and supported this music for all of its years. Virtually all of these artists are gone now, their music with them, the world in which they lived altered for all time. All we have is what was captured on sound recordings and film. And we truly do not have nearly enough film documentation. This DVD goes a long way in keeping these traditions alive for generations to come.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
“Alison Brown Quartet: Live at Blair - With Joe Craven” DVD (Compass)
Alison Brown has been at the forefront of the contemporary 5-string banjo movement for some 20+ years now, beginning with her tenure with Alison Krauss and Union Station. During that time, Brown has recorded a number of CD’s, first for Vanguard, then (since 1998) her own Compass Records banner. But not only is Brown one of Compass’ brightest lights, she also runs the label with husband and bass player Garry West. Under their enlightened guidance, Compass has emerged as a major player in the worlds of contemporary acoustic music, Americana, bluegrass, and Celtic music. Fittingly enough, all those genres figure prominently into music of the Alison Brown Quartet on the “Live At Blair” DVD.
For those who may be unfamiliar with her work, Alison Brown belongs to the same general category - which has never really been given a satisfactory name, as if that matters - of contemporary acoustic instrumental music, which encompasses such diverse artists as Bela Fleck, David Grisman, Sam Bush, Jerry Douglas, Mark O’Connor, et. al. Her music incorporates elements of bluegrass, jazz, New Age, classical music, Celtic and other World Music elements, in varying amounts which keep it from being predictable or even readily classifiable. Brown’s 5-string work is rooted in the Bill Keith chromatic style, but shows familiarity with Scruggs style on occasion. The banjo is by nature a pretty staccato instrument, but her playing always seems to sound smoothly rounded and highly imaginative. The same may be said of featured guest artist Joe Craven (best known for his work with Grisman) on fiddle and mandolin and Brown’s well-polished rhythm section. When everything is going right - as it is through the great bulk of this DVD concert - Brown’s banjo sparkles, Craven’s fiddle glides, John R. Burr’s piano soars and swoops, drummer Larry Atamanuik propels, and Garry West’s bass anchors everything. They all have their own ideas, yet everyone does their part to enhance and complement what the others.
Most of the material consists of intelligently conceived original tunes, including “The Magnificent Seven”, which is neither the epic Elmer Bernstein Western movie theme turned cigarette commercial nor the Clash song. It’s refreshing to hear Brown switch to guitar (and Craven to mandolin) on “Deep Gap”, a tribute to the Godfather of this entire genre of acoustic instrumentalism, Doc Watson.
As for the non-originals,Craven (on mandolin and auxiliary percussion) gets a workout on a lesser-known Django Reinhardt piece from 1939, “Hungaria”, which also features a drum solo by Atamanuik. There is also a traditional Scottish tune or two in the lengthy, set-closing medley with the unlikely title “(I’m Naked and I’m) Goin’ To Glasgow”. Brown is the first banjoist I’ve heard who has successfully translated the triplet ornamentation of Irish tenor banjo playing to the 5-string instrument, then extends it further. The medley also includes Burr’s most intense solo of the disc, in a modern gospel-tinged jazz vein. It probably shouldn’t be expected to work in a Celtic medley, yet it does. By the time Craven brings the hour-long concert to its climax by beating on Brown’s banjo like a conga drum, as she continues to play without missing a beat, one is no longer surprised by anything one might hear from these skilled musicians.
Brown does not have the most effusive stage personality, if that sort of thing is important to you. But Craven has a devilish little grin which wins over the viewer. No matter, the appreciative audience is not necessarily there to see “a show” or to be bowled over by personalities, but to hear well-considered original music skillfully played, and that’s exactly what they get for most of the disc. The two attempts at adding humor and variety to the proceedings no doubt worked better in the auditorium than they do for repeated home viewing. Brown narrates the historical/mythological background behind her composition “The Wonderful Sea Voyage (Of Holy St. Brendan)”, while Craven (occasionally abetted by West) accompanies with vocal sound effects, shouts, and bits of choreography. I was not at all surprised to learn that Craven has a successful side career as a children’s entertainer and workshop leader. The other “interruption” (my choice of word; others may well disagree) to the concert is the performance by Brown and West’s 6-year-old daughter Hannah, singing a couple old vaudeville standards. Very cute, even delightful - once. But I for one would opt to skip to the next chapter in subsequent viewings.
Nevertheless, I think anyone with an interest in the current state of the banjo and the development of contemporary acoustic music will more than get their money’s worth here, especially at the budget-conscious list price of $11.99. (I’ve seen it advertised online for even less.) Picture and audio quality are both absolutely gorgeous. The sole bonus feature is short text bios of the musicians.
Get this one.
For those who may be unfamiliar with her work, Alison Brown belongs to the same general category - which has never really been given a satisfactory name, as if that matters - of contemporary acoustic instrumental music, which encompasses such diverse artists as Bela Fleck, David Grisman, Sam Bush, Jerry Douglas, Mark O’Connor, et. al. Her music incorporates elements of bluegrass, jazz, New Age, classical music, Celtic and other World Music elements, in varying amounts which keep it from being predictable or even readily classifiable. Brown’s 5-string work is rooted in the Bill Keith chromatic style, but shows familiarity with Scruggs style on occasion. The banjo is by nature a pretty staccato instrument, but her playing always seems to sound smoothly rounded and highly imaginative. The same may be said of featured guest artist Joe Craven (best known for his work with Grisman) on fiddle and mandolin and Brown’s well-polished rhythm section. When everything is going right - as it is through the great bulk of this DVD concert - Brown’s banjo sparkles, Craven’s fiddle glides, John R. Burr’s piano soars and swoops, drummer Larry Atamanuik propels, and Garry West’s bass anchors everything. They all have their own ideas, yet everyone does their part to enhance and complement what the others.
Most of the material consists of intelligently conceived original tunes, including “The Magnificent Seven”, which is neither the epic Elmer Bernstein Western movie theme turned cigarette commercial nor the Clash song. It’s refreshing to hear Brown switch to guitar (and Craven to mandolin) on “Deep Gap”, a tribute to the Godfather of this entire genre of acoustic instrumentalism, Doc Watson.
As for the non-originals,Craven (on mandolin and auxiliary percussion) gets a workout on a lesser-known Django Reinhardt piece from 1939, “Hungaria”, which also features a drum solo by Atamanuik. There is also a traditional Scottish tune or two in the lengthy, set-closing medley with the unlikely title “(I’m Naked and I’m) Goin’ To Glasgow”. Brown is the first banjoist I’ve heard who has successfully translated the triplet ornamentation of Irish tenor banjo playing to the 5-string instrument, then extends it further. The medley also includes Burr’s most intense solo of the disc, in a modern gospel-tinged jazz vein. It probably shouldn’t be expected to work in a Celtic medley, yet it does. By the time Craven brings the hour-long concert to its climax by beating on Brown’s banjo like a conga drum, as she continues to play without missing a beat, one is no longer surprised by anything one might hear from these skilled musicians.
Brown does not have the most effusive stage personality, if that sort of thing is important to you. But Craven has a devilish little grin which wins over the viewer. No matter, the appreciative audience is not necessarily there to see “a show” or to be bowled over by personalities, but to hear well-considered original music skillfully played, and that’s exactly what they get for most of the disc. The two attempts at adding humor and variety to the proceedings no doubt worked better in the auditorium than they do for repeated home viewing. Brown narrates the historical/mythological background behind her composition “The Wonderful Sea Voyage (Of Holy St. Brendan)”, while Craven (occasionally abetted by West) accompanies with vocal sound effects, shouts, and bits of choreography. I was not at all surprised to learn that Craven has a successful side career as a children’s entertainer and workshop leader. The other “interruption” (my choice of word; others may well disagree) to the concert is the performance by Brown and West’s 6-year-old daughter Hannah, singing a couple old vaudeville standards. Very cute, even delightful - once. But I for one would opt to skip to the next chapter in subsequent viewings.
Nevertheless, I think anyone with an interest in the current state of the banjo and the development of contemporary acoustic music will more than get their money’s worth here, especially at the budget-conscious list price of $11.99. (I’ve seen it advertised online for even less.) Picture and audio quality are both absolutely gorgeous. The sole bonus feature is short text bios of the musicians.
Get this one.
Monday, March 7, 2011
“Mighty Uke: The Amazing Comeback Of A Musical Underdog” (Tiny Goat Films)
As I was growing up in the continually expanding rock’n’roll eras of the 1950’s and ‘60’s, the ukulele had a pretty bad rap. For one thing, among rockers, the electric guitar was THE instrument of the moment, and the uke seemed hopelessly square. Second, it’s such a tiny thing and costs so little, who could take it seriously? Third, it conjured up images of slick-haired 1920’s frat boys in raccoon coats, as well as Arthur Godfrey, who may have been an entertaining t.v. host, but was no teenager’s idea of a hip musician. Then finally, along came Tiny Tim, and any residual interest in the ukulele was irrevocably destroyed. Or so it seemed at the time.
Forward to the end of the first decade of the 21st century. As I was expanding the number of areas of the globe covered in my “Musics of the World” course at SUNY Fredonia, and briefly discussing Hawaiian music in my “American Music” course as well, I noticed something unexpected. College students born around at the end of the 1980’s, primarily in the state of New York, professed to know who Bruddah Iz (Israel Kamakawiwo’ole) was, though he died while they were in grade school. It was generally the case that “Over the Rainbow” was the only song they knew by him (which some students seemed to associate more with him than “The Wizard of Oz”), but they were conversant with - and had considerably high regard for - a musician who played the ukulele. Before long, Iz was joined in the next batch of students’ eyes by the great Jake Shimabukuro. Once again, they might only know one song (“While My Guitar Gently Weeps”), but at least they were giving serious props to a bona-fide ukulele innovator.
In other words, the ukulele is no longer in limbo. It can actually be considered a cool instrument by college students in the eastern US in the year 2011. Oh, yes, I still hear my fellow faculty members make derisive comments about the instrument - until I counter with Jake S., at which time they grudgingly nod assent. But attitudes are hard to change in academia. Perhaps they should all watch this marvelously entertaining and educational film, “Mighty Uke”, as fine a no-apologies-needed paean to a once-reviled musical instrument as you could hope to see.
You see, the Canadian filmmakers who put this 79-minute documentary together don’t simply take the ukulele seriously. Well beyond that, they love this instrument with a passion. The film is part history, part love letter, part demonstration of its capabilities, part tribute to many of the uke’s finest exponents, and part testimonial to how darn much fun it is to make music simply, easily, and without complication, using an instrument that my know-it-all Baby Boomer generation dismissed as something of a joke.
Watching this film, it is abundantly clear that during its long period in musical limbo, the ukulele underwent a tremendous expansion of stylistic possibilities and playing techniques. You may learn by strumming, you may also effectively accompany singing by strumming. But this is also an instrument that is capable of great subtlety, delicacy, creativity, and even complexity when melodic lines are skillfully plucked on it. It is worth noting that many of the players who are seen playing the instrument on-camera are likewise surprised to find how much pleasure they get playing the instrument, and how surprised a few are to discover they can actually make money doing so. Clearly this is a new Golden Era for what seems so humble an instrument, as well providing non-musicians (from schoolchildren to senior citizen groups) an outlet to begin expressing themselves in musical ways. Teachers, Recreation Directors, and Music Therapists might find many of these scenes to be quite eye-opening, and send Music Education in whole new directions. I don’t even play the uke, and have no need to proselytize for the instrument, but I find I’ve been inspired to talk about it to people in positions to expose it further.
Along the way, we see many shapes, sizes, and styles of ukulele, a much greater variety of options than the mini-guitar shape we generally think of when the instrument is mentioned. We get a compact history of Hawaiian music in general and the uke in particular, tracing its roots to the Portuguese braguinha (also the forerunner of the uke’s Brazilian cousin, the cavaquinho, which I thought might get more attention here, though it has never really gone out of fashion in samba circles), examining its early days in the Hawaiian islands, its inroads into mainland/mainstream American pop-culture during the early 20th century, and yes, the dark days of Tiny Tim. We also get to see rare ukes in the collection of the Honolulu’s famed Bishop Museum. We meet the author/compiler of a series of ukulele instruction books and songbooks.
And we get to see performances and interviews, lots of them. We see masters on various levels of accomplishment, such as the aforementioned Jake Shimabukuro, centenarian Bill Tapia (who talks about his early career; he’s been playing since 1915!!), the late John King, a fellow named Jon Braman who unexpectedly blends the ukulele with hip-hop, singer-songwriter Uni, the Boulder Acoustic Society, and Canadian groundbreaker James Hill. But we also get to see talented amateurs in large ensembles, in senior bands, a group of Israeli youth of both Jewish and Arab descent, and a high-school uke orchestra from British Columbia which tours Hawaii annually. Clearly this is an instrument which transcends musical, geographical, ethnic, political, and seemingly any other kind of barrier. But the point continues to be stressed that you don’t necessarily need to play with a high level of skill to enjoy the instrument, just a high level of enthusiasm.
In addition to the full-length film, there are no less than 10 short films with supplementary material. (Outtakes? No matter, they’re worth seeing.) We get to look at some vintage Martin ukes and learn how they were made. (Yes, that’s THE Martin Guitar company. During the depression, people couldn’t always afford a fine Martin guitar, but they were much more likely to afford a $5 uke.) We see some unusual looking ukuleles-as-art-objects, as an introduction to a Japanese artist/craftsman who fashions “ukuleles of the future”, amplified and with flashing lights. There are short profiles of a number of interesting performers playing a wide variety of musical styles. We are treated to some excellent live footage of the great uke master John King, who passed away in 2009, after carving out a unique position in the world of Hawaiian-rooted contemporary ukulele composition. And to top it all off, James Hill gives us an introductory uke lesson.
In all, this is a thoroughly delightful film, which should have great appeal well beyond the already converted uke community, and which will open the eyes of music lovers of many stripes. I seriously doubt you’ll find this at Wal-Mart, so I’d suggest you check it out at http://www.mightyukemovie.com
Forward to the end of the first decade of the 21st century. As I was expanding the number of areas of the globe covered in my “Musics of the World” course at SUNY Fredonia, and briefly discussing Hawaiian music in my “American Music” course as well, I noticed something unexpected. College students born around at the end of the 1980’s, primarily in the state of New York, professed to know who Bruddah Iz (Israel Kamakawiwo’ole) was, though he died while they were in grade school. It was generally the case that “Over the Rainbow” was the only song they knew by him (which some students seemed to associate more with him than “The Wizard of Oz”), but they were conversant with - and had considerably high regard for - a musician who played the ukulele. Before long, Iz was joined in the next batch of students’ eyes by the great Jake Shimabukuro. Once again, they might only know one song (“While My Guitar Gently Weeps”), but at least they were giving serious props to a bona-fide ukulele innovator.
In other words, the ukulele is no longer in limbo. It can actually be considered a cool instrument by college students in the eastern US in the year 2011. Oh, yes, I still hear my fellow faculty members make derisive comments about the instrument - until I counter with Jake S., at which time they grudgingly nod assent. But attitudes are hard to change in academia. Perhaps they should all watch this marvelously entertaining and educational film, “Mighty Uke”, as fine a no-apologies-needed paean to a once-reviled musical instrument as you could hope to see.
You see, the Canadian filmmakers who put this 79-minute documentary together don’t simply take the ukulele seriously. Well beyond that, they love this instrument with a passion. The film is part history, part love letter, part demonstration of its capabilities, part tribute to many of the uke’s finest exponents, and part testimonial to how darn much fun it is to make music simply, easily, and without complication, using an instrument that my know-it-all Baby Boomer generation dismissed as something of a joke.
Watching this film, it is abundantly clear that during its long period in musical limbo, the ukulele underwent a tremendous expansion of stylistic possibilities and playing techniques. You may learn by strumming, you may also effectively accompany singing by strumming. But this is also an instrument that is capable of great subtlety, delicacy, creativity, and even complexity when melodic lines are skillfully plucked on it. It is worth noting that many of the players who are seen playing the instrument on-camera are likewise surprised to find how much pleasure they get playing the instrument, and how surprised a few are to discover they can actually make money doing so. Clearly this is a new Golden Era for what seems so humble an instrument, as well providing non-musicians (from schoolchildren to senior citizen groups) an outlet to begin expressing themselves in musical ways. Teachers, Recreation Directors, and Music Therapists might find many of these scenes to be quite eye-opening, and send Music Education in whole new directions. I don’t even play the uke, and have no need to proselytize for the instrument, but I find I’ve been inspired to talk about it to people in positions to expose it further.
Along the way, we see many shapes, sizes, and styles of ukulele, a much greater variety of options than the mini-guitar shape we generally think of when the instrument is mentioned. We get a compact history of Hawaiian music in general and the uke in particular, tracing its roots to the Portuguese braguinha (also the forerunner of the uke’s Brazilian cousin, the cavaquinho, which I thought might get more attention here, though it has never really gone out of fashion in samba circles), examining its early days in the Hawaiian islands, its inroads into mainland/mainstream American pop-culture during the early 20th century, and yes, the dark days of Tiny Tim. We also get to see rare ukes in the collection of the Honolulu’s famed Bishop Museum. We meet the author/compiler of a series of ukulele instruction books and songbooks.
And we get to see performances and interviews, lots of them. We see masters on various levels of accomplishment, such as the aforementioned Jake Shimabukuro, centenarian Bill Tapia (who talks about his early career; he’s been playing since 1915!!), the late John King, a fellow named Jon Braman who unexpectedly blends the ukulele with hip-hop, singer-songwriter Uni, the Boulder Acoustic Society, and Canadian groundbreaker James Hill. But we also get to see talented amateurs in large ensembles, in senior bands, a group of Israeli youth of both Jewish and Arab descent, and a high-school uke orchestra from British Columbia which tours Hawaii annually. Clearly this is an instrument which transcends musical, geographical, ethnic, political, and seemingly any other kind of barrier. But the point continues to be stressed that you don’t necessarily need to play with a high level of skill to enjoy the instrument, just a high level of enthusiasm.
In addition to the full-length film, there are no less than 10 short films with supplementary material. (Outtakes? No matter, they’re worth seeing.) We get to look at some vintage Martin ukes and learn how they were made. (Yes, that’s THE Martin Guitar company. During the depression, people couldn’t always afford a fine Martin guitar, but they were much more likely to afford a $5 uke.) We see some unusual looking ukuleles-as-art-objects, as an introduction to a Japanese artist/craftsman who fashions “ukuleles of the future”, amplified and with flashing lights. There are short profiles of a number of interesting performers playing a wide variety of musical styles. We are treated to some excellent live footage of the great uke master John King, who passed away in 2009, after carving out a unique position in the world of Hawaiian-rooted contemporary ukulele composition. And to top it all off, James Hill gives us an introductory uke lesson.
In all, this is a thoroughly delightful film, which should have great appeal well beyond the already converted uke community, and which will open the eyes of music lovers of many stripes. I seriously doubt you’ll find this at Wal-Mart, so I’d suggest you check it out at http://www.mightyukemovie.com
Sunday, January 23, 2011
“The Mississippi Sheiks Tribute Concert: Live In Vancouver” DVD (Black Hen)
The Mississippi Sheiks were one of the most popular performing and recording acts ever to come out of the Mississippi Delta. Although generally thought of by modern listeners as “blues” artists, in their 1930’s heyday they recorded a variety of music ranging from fiddle tunes, nominally folk and country songs from both black and white traditions, pop songs of the day, older ragtime and humorous songs, as well as blues, plus anything else people wanted to hear. The band was a somewhat loose assemblage centered around the Chatmon Brothers, including fiddler Lonnie Chatmon, guitarist/singers Sam Chatmon (whose later solo career continued well into the 1970’s) and Bo Chatmon (who, as Bo Carter, enjoyed solo success with a string of double-entendre hits), plus a key non-brother, singer-songwriter Walter Vinson.
It would be untrue to say the Sheiks are now forgotten, as they still have a strong, faithful following, but neither are they as well-known as they deserve to be. Enter guitarist Steve Dawson, who produced a CD of modern-day artists recording their own versions of the Sheiks repertoire, to be followed by two concerts and this DVD, which is derived from those concerts. While I’ve never heard the CD, a quick check of Amazon shows that the lineups of the artists appearing on the CD and DVD overlap, but are considerably different. No matter - this concert DVD holds up extremely well, even without the likes of Bruce Cockburn or the Carolina Chocolate Drops (who appeared on the CD).
The disc opens with a bit of background about the Sheiks as well as on the organization of the concerts. The concert is built around a carefully chosen house combo of musicians from the Seattle/Vancouver area, who are joined by an impressive cast of featured celebrity singer-musicians from both sides of the US/Canada border. Dawson talks about the haste with which the rehearsals were put together, which contributes to the informality of the proceedings. One might expect from this that there would be a certain level of sloppiness in the music, but indeed there is very little, and what small bits of uncoordination there may be are easily overlooked.
Things get under way with a reading by actor/bluesman Jim Byrnes from liner notes written by Sam Chatmon back in the 1970’s, as the house band plays behind him. Throughout the set, the band by no means attempts to slavishly recapture the sound, style, or fully-acoustic arrangements of the Sheiks. There are electric guitars, keyboards, acoustic bass, drums, and an occasional touch of brass, as well as some decidedly modern funk and New Orleans rhythms going on. Purists may object, but there really is no reason these old favorite songs need to live solely in the past.
Oh Susanna, a slightly strident American-born, Canadian-based singer who is new to me, does “Things About Comin’ My Way,” a song which shares its melody line with the Sheiks’ most influential song, “Sitting on Top of the World” (a song covered by Bob Wills, Howlin’ Wolf, Cream, Willie Nelson, among countless others). The Sojourners, a vocal trio, add touches of quartet-style gospel and swing to “Sweet Maggie”, the chorus of which is essentially “Corrine Corrina”. Geoff Muldaur offers “Poor Boy”, with some sweet fiddling by Daniel Lapp in the Lonnie Chatmon tradition. Despite an instrumentation which includes accordion, mandolin, and Muldaur’s banjo, this one really captures the essence of the Sheiks.
Bob Brozman, on National steel guitar, plays a down-and-dirty “Church Bell Blues”, with some gritty fiddling by Lapp and nice interaction between Brozman and Dawson on the instrumental break. Singer-pianist Robin Holcomb, takes one of my personal favorite Sheiks’ songs, “I’ve Got Blood In My Eyes For You”, and totally transforms it into a harmonically adventurous jazz narrative a la Nina Simone (not necessarily an exact parallel, but it’s the best familiar-name approximation I can come up with). Only the lyrics remain intact. It’s an interesting recasting, to be sure, and one which is beginning to grow on me now that the initial shock has worn off. (Holcomb’s husband, Wayne Horvitz, perhaps best known in jazz circles, is the versatile keyboardist for the concert’s house band.) Alvin Youngblood Hart sings a soulful version of “Livin’ In a Strain”, backing himself with some subtle, tasty lap steel licks. Dave Alvin, along with singer Christy McWilson, Brozman, Lapp, and Dawson, tweaks the concert’s format only slightly with a song from Bo Carter’s solo repertoire (“Who’s Been Here”). Though Alvin is generally thought of as a roots-rocker, fans may not be at all surprised that this may be the most traditional-folk performance in the set, and a highly ingratiating one at that.
If there could be said to be one artist on the disc who stands out a slight cut above the rest, it might be John Hammond, one of the giants of the 1960’s blues revival and still going strong. He blows some solid blues harp on Colin James’ easy-going version of “Keep On Tryin’”, done in the low-key, loping rhythm the Sheiks did so well, then returns to accompany Jim Byrnes. Hammond then gets his own spot for a typically fine performance of “Kind Treatment.” If there could be said to be a failure on the disc, it would be Van Dyke Parks’ version of “It’s Backfirin’ Now”. Parks is not someone one would expect to hear in this context in the first place, but he IS from Mississippi and a Sheiks’ admirer. Alas, this isn’t quite enough. With his barrelhouse piano, coupled with Lapp’s cornet, he gets a bit of a Dr. John groove going, but his voice simply does not have enough grit in it to make his valiant attempt a successful one.
But this is the only misstep in a solid set of tunes and performances. The entire lineup assembles at the end for a surprisingly frisky version of “Sitting On Top of the World”, bringing the concert and the DVD to an appropriately rousing conclusion.
The 85-minute disc has no extra features, and none are necessary.
It would be untrue to say the Sheiks are now forgotten, as they still have a strong, faithful following, but neither are they as well-known as they deserve to be. Enter guitarist Steve Dawson, who produced a CD of modern-day artists recording their own versions of the Sheiks repertoire, to be followed by two concerts and this DVD, which is derived from those concerts. While I’ve never heard the CD, a quick check of Amazon shows that the lineups of the artists appearing on the CD and DVD overlap, but are considerably different. No matter - this concert DVD holds up extremely well, even without the likes of Bruce Cockburn or the Carolina Chocolate Drops (who appeared on the CD).
The disc opens with a bit of background about the Sheiks as well as on the organization of the concerts. The concert is built around a carefully chosen house combo of musicians from the Seattle/Vancouver area, who are joined by an impressive cast of featured celebrity singer-musicians from both sides of the US/Canada border. Dawson talks about the haste with which the rehearsals were put together, which contributes to the informality of the proceedings. One might expect from this that there would be a certain level of sloppiness in the music, but indeed there is very little, and what small bits of uncoordination there may be are easily overlooked.
Things get under way with a reading by actor/bluesman Jim Byrnes from liner notes written by Sam Chatmon back in the 1970’s, as the house band plays behind him. Throughout the set, the band by no means attempts to slavishly recapture the sound, style, or fully-acoustic arrangements of the Sheiks. There are electric guitars, keyboards, acoustic bass, drums, and an occasional touch of brass, as well as some decidedly modern funk and New Orleans rhythms going on. Purists may object, but there really is no reason these old favorite songs need to live solely in the past.
Oh Susanna, a slightly strident American-born, Canadian-based singer who is new to me, does “Things About Comin’ My Way,” a song which shares its melody line with the Sheiks’ most influential song, “Sitting on Top of the World” (a song covered by Bob Wills, Howlin’ Wolf, Cream, Willie Nelson, among countless others). The Sojourners, a vocal trio, add touches of quartet-style gospel and swing to “Sweet Maggie”, the chorus of which is essentially “Corrine Corrina”. Geoff Muldaur offers “Poor Boy”, with some sweet fiddling by Daniel Lapp in the Lonnie Chatmon tradition. Despite an instrumentation which includes accordion, mandolin, and Muldaur’s banjo, this one really captures the essence of the Sheiks.
Bob Brozman, on National steel guitar, plays a down-and-dirty “Church Bell Blues”, with some gritty fiddling by Lapp and nice interaction between Brozman and Dawson on the instrumental break. Singer-pianist Robin Holcomb, takes one of my personal favorite Sheiks’ songs, “I’ve Got Blood In My Eyes For You”, and totally transforms it into a harmonically adventurous jazz narrative a la Nina Simone (not necessarily an exact parallel, but it’s the best familiar-name approximation I can come up with). Only the lyrics remain intact. It’s an interesting recasting, to be sure, and one which is beginning to grow on me now that the initial shock has worn off. (Holcomb’s husband, Wayne Horvitz, perhaps best known in jazz circles, is the versatile keyboardist for the concert’s house band.) Alvin Youngblood Hart sings a soulful version of “Livin’ In a Strain”, backing himself with some subtle, tasty lap steel licks. Dave Alvin, along with singer Christy McWilson, Brozman, Lapp, and Dawson, tweaks the concert’s format only slightly with a song from Bo Carter’s solo repertoire (“Who’s Been Here”). Though Alvin is generally thought of as a roots-rocker, fans may not be at all surprised that this may be the most traditional-folk performance in the set, and a highly ingratiating one at that.
If there could be said to be one artist on the disc who stands out a slight cut above the rest, it might be John Hammond, one of the giants of the 1960’s blues revival and still going strong. He blows some solid blues harp on Colin James’ easy-going version of “Keep On Tryin’”, done in the low-key, loping rhythm the Sheiks did so well, then returns to accompany Jim Byrnes. Hammond then gets his own spot for a typically fine performance of “Kind Treatment.” If there could be said to be a failure on the disc, it would be Van Dyke Parks’ version of “It’s Backfirin’ Now”. Parks is not someone one would expect to hear in this context in the first place, but he IS from Mississippi and a Sheiks’ admirer. Alas, this isn’t quite enough. With his barrelhouse piano, coupled with Lapp’s cornet, he gets a bit of a Dr. John groove going, but his voice simply does not have enough grit in it to make his valiant attempt a successful one.
But this is the only misstep in a solid set of tunes and performances. The entire lineup assembles at the end for a surprisingly frisky version of “Sitting On Top of the World”, bringing the concert and the DVD to an appropriately rousing conclusion.
The 85-minute disc has no extra features, and none are necessary.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Marina Rossell - “Classics Catalans: Gran Teatre Del Liceu de Barcelona” DVD (World Village)
Catalunya (or Catalonia) is an “autonomous community” within the Kingdom of Spain, which sounds as if the “nation” of Catalunya should be at least semi-independent. Spain, however, continues to maintain sovereignty over the region (which includes the metropolis of Barcelona). Thus it is by no means inappropriate or unexpected for a Catalan singer to program songs calling for Catalan freedom in a televised performance in a major concert hall.
The singer in question, Marina Rossell, is a long-time superstar in Catalunya, with a career dating back into the 1970’s, though she is little known in the US. This is unfortunate, because as a performer and as a representative of her culture, she should rank alongside such former International sensations as Edith Piaf, Nana Mouskouri, and Mercedes Sosa. Many of her own songs, as well as the older Catalan songs (about which below) that she interprets, may be regarded as somewhat equivalent to the South American nueva cancion, in that they are poetically worded songs which examine the lives of the common people, leaving it up to the listener to decide what must be done if things are to change. There are English subtitles available for the lyrics, which I tended to ignore at first, so captivating is the lush beauty of Rossell’s voice. Fortunately, I soon realized what a serious mistake that was, as the lyrics hold the key for a full understanding of the songs and the entire nationalist nature of the concert.
Rossell’s original material dominates the first half of the 90-minute concert, and a very substantial (and entertaining) body of work it is. The second half of the proceedings, however, may be even more valuable, as the singer has done considerable research into long-forgotten Catalan songs from the late 19th- and early 20th centuries. She has retained the heartfelt lyrics and memorable melodies of these songs intact, but has very successfully updated the styles of their arrangements to suit her musical approach and the taste of the contemporary listener.
Her accompaniment is focused largely on a variety of “Mediterranean guitars”, as well as piano, occasional accordion, strong bass playing, light percussion. This is supplemented by a variety of well-chosen guest artists - a choir of young women (teens, it would appear) called the Vivaldi Choir of Young Voices of Catalonia, two musicians playing tenoras (long double-reed woodwinds generally found in coblas; see below), the great Basque trikitixa (localized version of the accordion) player Kepa Junkera, and a largish percussion ensemble called the Coetus Iberian Percussion Orchestra.
In addition to the concert, there is a half-hour feature focusing on the songs themselves, showing how Rossell combed archives filled with sheet music to resurrect gems from her nation’s past. We are treated to an outdoor performance by a Catalan wind band called a cobla, which has the traditional role of supplying music for the Catalan circle dance known as the sardana. We also hear the background of several of the older songs featured in the concert, and learn a bit about their composers. In all, this lone bonus feature is an invaluable adjunct to a fuller understanding of the music.
Since this concert was filmed in 2008 for Catalan television, it would seem to make sense for someone like PBS to make it available for American viewers. But that would probably make too much sense. Certainly, there is far more substance and passion in this DVD than in a full week, even two, of the bland concerts by international pop singers trotted out by PBS during Membership Pledge Drives. Get this DVD -it’s the really good stuff.
The singer in question, Marina Rossell, is a long-time superstar in Catalunya, with a career dating back into the 1970’s, though she is little known in the US. This is unfortunate, because as a performer and as a representative of her culture, she should rank alongside such former International sensations as Edith Piaf, Nana Mouskouri, and Mercedes Sosa. Many of her own songs, as well as the older Catalan songs (about which below) that she interprets, may be regarded as somewhat equivalent to the South American nueva cancion, in that they are poetically worded songs which examine the lives of the common people, leaving it up to the listener to decide what must be done if things are to change. There are English subtitles available for the lyrics, which I tended to ignore at first, so captivating is the lush beauty of Rossell’s voice. Fortunately, I soon realized what a serious mistake that was, as the lyrics hold the key for a full understanding of the songs and the entire nationalist nature of the concert.
Rossell’s original material dominates the first half of the 90-minute concert, and a very substantial (and entertaining) body of work it is. The second half of the proceedings, however, may be even more valuable, as the singer has done considerable research into long-forgotten Catalan songs from the late 19th- and early 20th centuries. She has retained the heartfelt lyrics and memorable melodies of these songs intact, but has very successfully updated the styles of their arrangements to suit her musical approach and the taste of the contemporary listener.
Her accompaniment is focused largely on a variety of “Mediterranean guitars”, as well as piano, occasional accordion, strong bass playing, light percussion. This is supplemented by a variety of well-chosen guest artists - a choir of young women (teens, it would appear) called the Vivaldi Choir of Young Voices of Catalonia, two musicians playing tenoras (long double-reed woodwinds generally found in coblas; see below), the great Basque trikitixa (localized version of the accordion) player Kepa Junkera, and a largish percussion ensemble called the Coetus Iberian Percussion Orchestra.
In addition to the concert, there is a half-hour feature focusing on the songs themselves, showing how Rossell combed archives filled with sheet music to resurrect gems from her nation’s past. We are treated to an outdoor performance by a Catalan wind band called a cobla, which has the traditional role of supplying music for the Catalan circle dance known as the sardana. We also hear the background of several of the older songs featured in the concert, and learn a bit about their composers. In all, this lone bonus feature is an invaluable adjunct to a fuller understanding of the music.
Since this concert was filmed in 2008 for Catalan television, it would seem to make sense for someone like PBS to make it available for American viewers. But that would probably make too much sense. Certainly, there is far more substance and passion in this DVD than in a full week, even two, of the bland concerts by international pop singers trotted out by PBS during Membership Pledge Drives. Get this DVD -it’s the really good stuff.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Joe Louis Walker & the Bosstalkers “In Concert” (MVD)
When Joe Louis Walker exploded onto the blues scene in the late 1980’s, he was hailed as a breath of fresh air. He enlivened a somewhat stagnating scene with his energetic, emotional, original approach to combining hard-core electric blues with elements of soul and gospel. This 1991 live-performance DVD, from the German concert t.v. series “Ohne Filter”, captures him and his equally energetic band, the Bosstalkers, at their early peak.
Walker and the band are notable for their clean, stripped-down sound, built around the leader’s, precise, clipped-note lead which has some of the cool approach of Albert Collins melodically (though the parallel should not be taken too exactly), but which can burst out in showers of notes which can catch you pleasantly off-guard. This tight, compact early edition of the Bosstalkers provide solid support throughout, without ever overpowering Walker. The bass player in particular has a nice, popping funk rhythmic sense, whereas the keyboardist and drummer are refreshingly content to be role-players, filling in with taste and subtlety. A concise two-man horn section (tenor sax, trumpet) provides first-rate enhancement, occasionally putting down their horns to pick up small percussion instruments. One can only wish that all sidemen in small bands of this nature were equally content to help showcase their leader and not themselves.
Walker’s repertoire is quite varied, and reflects his early interest in the earthier aspects of 60’s r&b, his early-career experience in the playing field, his interest in a wide range of electric blues from Chicago through Memphis to Texas, even his friendship with former roommate Michael Bloomfield. It’s all here, not in a scatter-shot way, but melded into a coherent, individualistic approach. The 57-minute performance holds a great deal of interest from beginning to end.
In the twenty years since this concert was originally televised, Joe Louis Walker has continued to record consistently excellent CD’s and perform at top festivals and clubs. Even so, he has never quite crossed into mainstream consciousness the way a B. B. King or Buddy Guy has. And that’s a shame, because the man has an awful lot to offer. This disc captures him at full power, and should be seen by anyone interested in modern-day blues.
Walker and the band are notable for their clean, stripped-down sound, built around the leader’s, precise, clipped-note lead which has some of the cool approach of Albert Collins melodically (though the parallel should not be taken too exactly), but which can burst out in showers of notes which can catch you pleasantly off-guard. This tight, compact early edition of the Bosstalkers provide solid support throughout, without ever overpowering Walker. The bass player in particular has a nice, popping funk rhythmic sense, whereas the keyboardist and drummer are refreshingly content to be role-players, filling in with taste and subtlety. A concise two-man horn section (tenor sax, trumpet) provides first-rate enhancement, occasionally putting down their horns to pick up small percussion instruments. One can only wish that all sidemen in small bands of this nature were equally content to help showcase their leader and not themselves.
Walker’s repertoire is quite varied, and reflects his early interest in the earthier aspects of 60’s r&b, his early-career experience in the playing field, his interest in a wide range of electric blues from Chicago through Memphis to Texas, even his friendship with former roommate Michael Bloomfield. It’s all here, not in a scatter-shot way, but melded into a coherent, individualistic approach. The 57-minute performance holds a great deal of interest from beginning to end.
In the twenty years since this concert was originally televised, Joe Louis Walker has continued to record consistently excellent CD’s and perform at top festivals and clubs. Even so, he has never quite crossed into mainstream consciousness the way a B. B. King or Buddy Guy has. And that’s a shame, because the man has an awful lot to offer. This disc captures him at full power, and should be seen by anyone interested in modern-day blues.
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