Comfort Items

I’m bewildered when pals proudly share current playlists consisting of nothing but dusty vinyl albums.  To each his own, but discovering innovative new sounds is my lifeblood.  I prize surprise.  Even my ongoing opera obsession during the quarantine is rooted in enlightenment.  Last night I learned I loathe Franz Lehár’s “The Merry Widow.”  I’m disappointed, consequently, by my recent regression into the sort of sentimentality I mock in my friends.

I was lying half-naked in the sun on the nicest day of the year when I first listened to Shelby Lynne’s new self-titled album.  Complemented by the warm sun and cool breeze, Lynne’s barely-concealed recasting of her classic 1999 album I Am Shelby Lynne elevated me to cloud nine.  Subsequent plays revealed Shelby Lynne to be as innovative as a McDonald’s combo meal.  That’s precisely why I adore it.

After catching Lionel Loueke’s show with bassist Massimo Biolcati and drummer Ferenc Nemeth at the Blue Room in 2009, I figured the guitarist could do no wrong.  His 2012 album Heritage met the high standard I set for the artist who blends rock, soul and jazz with West African dance music.  Since then, his previously hidden propensity for corniness has repeatedly disappointed me.  Gilfema’s Three, Loueke’s reunion with Biolacati and Nemeth, is a familiar and comforting return to form.  Here’s the trio’s interpretation of “Little Wing”.

Jazz Is Dead’s name implies a revolutionary sensibility, but the project overseen by Adrian Younge and Ali Shaheed Muhammad specializes in painstakingly accurate recreations of timeworn variations of jazz.  Released today, the Roy Ayers vehicle “Synchronize Vibrations” is a nostalgic update of the cosmic soul of Ubiquity’s “Everybody Loves the Sunshine.”  Alas, I’m smitten by the blast from the past.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)

Concert Review: 1349 at the Riot Room

The malevolent sound of 1349 wasn’t the scariest thing at the Riot Room last Thursday.  Repugnant odors were far more horrifying than the music of the Norwegian black metal band.  Combined with the acidic smell of dry ice, the stench of dank hair that filled the air as hirsute members of the audience began headbanging to 1349’s opening selection “I Am Abomination” caused me to involuntarily retch.  The rancid funk couldn’t prevent me from grinning at the band’s face paint and the ostensibly evil hand gestures made by some of 100 or so fans and thrill-seekers who paid $15 to see the show.  It looked and sounded a lot like this.  Jackson May wrote a more respectful account of the show for Mills Record Company.


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I reviewed last night’s Winter Jam festival at the Sprint Center.

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I write weekly music previews for The Kansas City Star and Ink magazine. 

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I reviewed Matt Hopper’s First Love at Plastic Sax.

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Strange but true: a band named Agoraphobic Nosebleed created my favorite song of January. "Not a Daughter" floors me.

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The self-titled album by Bloodiest is RIYL: Tool, rawk, Big Black.

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On paper, Tortoise should be one of my favorite bands.  I admire the theoretical impulse behind the music.  The reality is quite different.  Like most other Tortoise projects, The Catastrophist does little for me.  RIYL: the lack of swing, Stereolab, soullessness.

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Dave Mustaine sounds like he’s running for office on Megadeth’s Dystopia.  He doesn’t have my vote.  Here’s the title track.

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I suppose I’m obligated to have a take on Macklemore & Ryan Lewis’ “White Privilege II”:  I prefer to atone in private.  Tying oneself up into knots in public is bound to backfire.

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Paul Westerberg and Juliana Hatfield are charming as the I Don’t Cares on the modest Wild Stab.  RIYL: The dB’s, demos, Alex Chilton.

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Adrian Younge’s Something About April II is kitschy fun.  RIYL: Isaac Hayes, blaxploitation flicks, Honey Cone.

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If Yes had been a black metal band, it would have sounded like Borknager.  Winter Thrice is RIYL: Game of Thrones, pomp, Coheed and Cambria.  The title track is glorious.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)

Album Review: Ghostface Killah and Adrian Younge- Twelve Reasons To Die

I watched Safe House, a solid action flick starring Denzel Washington (and featuring Rubén Blades) on cable earlier this week.   It was little different than dozens of organized crime, complex caper and government conspiracy movies I've enjoyed.  I could see how it was going to play out within the first fifteen minutes.  I didn't mind.  Familiar formulas can provide solace. 

I feel much the same way about Twelve Reasons To Die, the new collaboration between Ghostface Killah and Adrian Younge.  With amusingly self-referential lyrics and a sound that deliberately evokes Curtis Mayfield's Super Fly and Isaac Hayes' Shaft, it's at least as good as Ghost's 1996 2006 classic Fishscale. 

The narrative is… Oh, who am I kidding?  This album has my name written all over it- of course I love it.  Anyone who shares my affection for the Wu-Tang Clan and early '70s blaxploitation soundtracks will adore Twelve Reasons To Die.


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Scott Miller of Game Theory and the Loud Family has died.

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Jeneé Osterheldt wrote a fine profile of Kerwin Young.

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Steddy P. already knows that I don't like his video for "Vacay".

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My former coworker Glenn Jones sure can play guitar with emotional authority.

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The Haxan Cloak's Excavation is every bit as as good as critics have suggested.  RIYL: Tangerine Dream, narcotics, seances.

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Curses!  Just when I thought my feelings for the Three O'Clock had been permanently suppressed, a new compilation has revived those undesirable pangs of nostalgia. 

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Iggy Pop has jokes.

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Kansas City Click: My official picks are published here.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)