I’ve long believed that gimmicky bands and novelty albums are only embraced by people who don’t like music all that much. Preferring comedy to music isn’t a crime, but it’s safe to say that the quality of most ostensibly funny music is criminally awful.
Monty Alexander’s
Wareika Hill: RastaMonk Vibrations should be the musical equivalent of a Rastafarian dreadlock wig in a costume shop. Yet against all odds, the album of Thelonious Monk compositions set to reggae rhythms is stupendous. The Jamaican jazz veteran comes by the concept naturally. Born in Kingston a year before Bob Marley, Alexander insists that he’s long harbored “a deep impression that the world of Monk and Rasta were one spirit.” That’s why a dub reading of “Brilliant Corners” is both hilarious and moving while “Rhythm-a-Ning” sounds as if Monk anticipated reggae when he wrote the pliable melody. Alexander demonstrates the premise in a
revelatory video.
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I write
weekly concert previews for
The Kansas City Star.
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The
first of my three-part examination of the Chicago Jazz Festival is at Plastic Sax.
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My Brothers & Sisters was the best band I saw during the two hours I spent at the Crossroads Music Fest last week.
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Anticipating a desperate need for a respite from jazz, I bought a ticket for
this Squeeze concert before traveling to the Chicago Jazz Festival. Chris Difford and Glenn Tilbrook were fine, but I regret the decision.
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Earthgang’s implausible
Mirrorland allows me to pretend that Outkast reunited, Prince is alive and Lauryn Hill lives in a recording studio. Please don’t pinch me.
(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)
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