Concert Review: Nadia Larcher and Ensemble Ibérica at MTH Theater

Nadia Larcher called Beau Bledsoe a dreamer during her North American debut at MTH Theater on Monday, October 14.  After taking in her astonishing performance, I now think of the leader of Ensemble Ibérica as an expert talent scout.

Bledsoe told an audience of less than 100 that he stumbled upon Larcher in an out-of-the-way theater in Buenos Aires by happenstance last year.  Even though the Argentinian was showcased in a 75-minute symphonic concert in 2017, Larcher is still so obscure that the video of the exquisite performance in Buenos Aires has less than 2,500 views.

The $34 I paid for my ticket covered only a pitiful fraction of what was almost certainly a huge investment to get Larcher to Kansas City, but her show was an artistic windfall.  Accompanied by guitarist Bledsoe, violinist (and translator) Christine Brebes, multi-instrumentalist Amado Espinoza, pianist Brad Cox, bassist Jeff Harshbarger and percussionist Brandon Draper, Larcher demonstrated that her tiny frame houses a massive voice and an even bigger personality.

A few of Larcher’s songs were about cowboys and the travails of agrarian life in Argentina.  That’s misleading.  Larcher is clearly professionally trained.  Her approach is no less refined than the sophisticated sensibility of the Broadway star Kelli O’Hara.  I can’t speak for Bledsoe, but the magnificence of Larcher made my dreams come true on Monday.


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I contribute weekly concert previews to The Kansas City Star.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)

Concert Review: Kelli O’Hara at Helzberg Hall

What constitutes an ideal date night concert?  I’d suggest that the performance should be romantic, engaging, sophisticated, brief and affordable.  By those specifications, Kelli O’Hara’s appearance at Helzberg Hall on Saturday, October 12, was perfect.  My date shed tears of gratitude during the Broadway star’s renditions of romantic standards including “All the Way”, and she gleefully sang along to a rendition of the cheerful “Getting to Know You”.  Accompanied only by pianist Dan Lipton, O’Hara’s appearance lasted less than 90 minutes.  The brevity of the show might have bothered me had I not purchased rush tickets at an enormous discount.  Light attendance meant that we had an entire section in a posh venue almost entirely to ourselves.  Suddenly, I’m bright and breezy.


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I reviewed an appearance by Tatsuya Nakatani at Plastic Sax.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)

Album Review: Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds- Ghosteen

I’ve attended only two funerals in 2019.  That number is certain to multiply in the next several years.  Knowing that my end is also coming sooner rather than later, I spend a lot of time pondering death, grief and God.  I once would have dismissed Ghosteen, the stately new song cycle by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, as an exercise in morbidity.  Yet like everyone who has managed to stay alive for more than half a century, I’ve taken enough hits to make Cave’s unblinking musings on mortality entirely relatable  Ghosteen is grim but not macabre.  Cave admirably attempts to overcome melancholy without devaluing the source of his pain.  In treasuring the good that remains, he honors the memories of those he’s lost.  That’s the best any of us can do.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)

Album Review: Robert Glasper- Fuck Yo Feelings

A rapper accosted me in a bar a few years ago.  He told me that while he appreciated my detailed analysis of his latest work, my review mistakenly referred to the recording as an album.  “It’s a mixtape!” he hollered.  Even though the project was sold on Bandcamp and iTunes and wasn’t available at mixtape sites like DatPiff, I let it go.

The distinction between albums and mixtapes is even more meaningless today.  That’s why I think Robert Glasper’s insistence that Fuck Yo Feelings is a mixtape is merely a defensive posture intended to deflect accusations of sloppiness.  And sure enough, the 71-minute recording is a self-indulgent mess, a tone he cops to in the album trailer.

Almost every time a groove catches a towering wave, the vibe is unceremoniously interrupted by a social message or a grimy verse.  But when the list of contributors reads like a Who’s Who of my favorite jazz, funk and hip-hop musicians- Bilal, YBN Cordae, Chris Dave, Denzel Curry, Herbie Hancock, Derrick Hodge, etc.- even the disruptions are nice.

On the DJ Screw-inspired “Daf Ftf,” Glasper slurs “anybody can just be a killing musician… it takes courage to step out and be a fucking artist…”  Glasper continues to prove that has plenty of guts.  I’d rather hear him goof around than listen to the most polished work of ninety percent of the artists listed on the JazzWeek radio chart.  Fuck their feelings.


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I contribute weekly concert recommendations to The Kansas City Star.

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I reviewed Rabbit’s Blues: The Life and Music of Johnny Hodges at Plastic Sax.

(Original image of a light switch at the Folly Theater by There Stands the Glass.)

Middle Muddle

I spent seven hours at the two-day Middle of the Map festival last weekend.  Much of it wasn’t time well spent.  A cover band's faithful back-to-back interpretations of “Helter Skelter” and “Love Shack" forced me to question the curation of the ninth edition of the event.

The headlining acts at the Uptown Theater on Friday were particularly dissatisfactory.  For an alleged industry plant, Clairo was shockingly lackluster in her Kansas City debut.  She performed prosaic pop with the reticence of an unwilling participant in a high school talent show.  Clairo’s tourmate Beabadoobee was similarly stilted in a set that sounded like Kidz Bop interpreting Pavement.  Lindsey Jordan of Snail Mail is a major talent, but she made it explicitly clear that she wasn’t happy to be there.  A drab collaboration between Clairo and Snail Mail on “Speaking Terms” was the ostensible highlight of the evening.  The giddy teens in the audience of about 600 deserved much better.

I would have stayed home if I had known that the clutch of singer-songwriters featured at Songbird Cafe were going to be my favorite component of Saturday’s day parties.  I defaulted to the folkies when few of the rock bands at the three other venues proved worthwhile.

Una Walkenhorst was a revelation.  I’d written her off after witnessing a dismal set a couple years ago.  Walkenhorst made huge strides while I wasn’t paying attention.  She may be the best folk artist to emerge from Kansas City since Iris Dement played open mic sessions in the 1990s.  Walkenhorst justly heaped praise on the precocious teen Jo MacKenzie: “she’s gonna be selling places out soon, so you’d better get on that train early.”  She may be right.  I detect similarities between MacKenzie and Addie Sartino of the on-the-cusp Kansas City indie-pop band the Greeting Committee.

I expected bracing blues-rock at the debut of Womanish Girl.  The duo of guitarist Katy Guillen and drummer Stephanie Williams didn't disappoint.  I left during the two-hour break between the festival’s day parties and the evening sessions.  A friend’s invitation to join him at the Tyler, the Creator concert in Independence didn’t work out, but the momentary prospect of seeing a musical giant made the idea of returning to the unassuming festival untenable.

(Original image of Jo MacKenzie by There Stands the Glass.)

Organized

The owner of a Kansas City jazz establishment does an uncannily accurate impression of me.  Rolling his eyes while whining about “that f*cking organ,” the entrepreneur mocks my longstanding dislike of the Hammond B-3.  Three convincing recent releases forced me to reassess my bias.

The presence of the mighty Pharoah Sanders compelled me to check out organist Joey DeFrancesco’s In the Key of the Universe.  The grooviest tracks almost make me believe that “The Creator Has a Master Plan”.

The James Carter Organ Trio emits as much energy as the sun on the radiant Live From Newport Jazz.   The saxophonist, organist Gerard Gibbs and drummer Alexander White are committed to getting backfields in motion.

Steve Howe- yes, that Steve Howe- is joined by organist Ross Stanley and drummer Dylan Howe on New Frontier.  It’s a tasteful blend of prog-rock, jazz fusion and the conventional organ trio sound.

A few hours after composing the previous paragraphs, I plopped down in a chair three feet from the Hammond B-3’s auxiliary speaker at the Green Lady Lounge last night.  I was unexpectedly overcome with a newfound appreciation of the vintage analogue sound.  Here’s actual footage of my ecstatic response.


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I write weekly concert recommendations for The Kansas City Star.

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I contributed to KCUR’s guide to the Middle of the Map Fest.

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I extol the addition of Adam Larson to Kansas City’s jazz scene at Plastic Sax.

(Original image of an organ combo at the Green Lady Lounge by There Stands the Glass.)

September Recap

Top Five Performances
1. Eddie Palmieri, Ben LaMar Gay, Camila Meza, et al.- Millennium Park (The Chicago Jazz Festival)
My review.
2. Carrie Underwood- Sprint Center
My review.
3. Little Joe Hernandez- Barney Allis Plaza (Fiesta Hispana)
My Instagram clip.
4. Logan Richardson, Peter Schlamb, Dominique Sanders and Ryan J. Lee- The Ship
My Instagram clip.
5. The Sextet- RecordBar
My Instagram clip.

Top Five Albums
1. Jóhann Jóhannsson- 12 Conversations With Thilo Heinzmann
My review.
2. Alasdair Roberts- The Fiery Margin
My review.
3. Samantha Fish- Kill or Be Kind
Murderous.
4. Monty Alexander- Wareika Hill: Rastamonk Vibrations
My review.
5. Dylan Pyles- Popular Songs for the Heart
Lo-fi KC freak-folk a la Eugene Chadbourne and Jeff Mangum.

Top Five Songs
1. Fat Joe featuring Cardi B and Anuel AA- “Yes”
I apologize in advance.
2. Earthgang featuring T-Pain- “Tequila”
“Life is full of catchy hooks and uppercuts.”
3. Ameer Vann- “Emmanuel”
Cancel at your own risk.
4. The Highwomen- “Cocktail and a Song”
“Time’s running out.”
5. Alexandra Billings- “Let Her Be Okay”
I’m a crier.

I conducted the same exercise in August, July, June, May, April, March, February and January.

(Original image of Eddie Palmieri by There Stands the Glass.)

Album Review: Jóhann Jóhannsson- 12 Conversations With Thilo Heinzmann

I was so entranced the first time I listened to Jóhann Jóhannsson’s 41-minute song cycle 12 Conversations With Thilo Heinzmann that I was surprised when it ended.  The album was seemingly over just moments after it began.  It’s my understanding that it’s the first full-length recording of Jóhannsson compositions by a string quartet.  Each of the instrumental selections played by the Echo Collective is the length of a pop song.  Several are just as catchy- and as heartbreaking- as ballads written by Paul McCartney and Smokey Robinson.  Jóhannsson was at his artistic peak when he died last year at 48.  I’m not prone to extended periods of mourning, but I may never stop selfishly grieving the forestallment of the new music that would have enhanced the remainder of my life.


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I reviewed an extremely loud concert by the Jonas Brothers and Bebe Rexha at the Sprint Center for The Kansas City Star.

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I write weekly concert recommendations for The Kansas City Star.

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I wrap up my three-part examination of the Chicago Jazz Festival with a litany of fussy grievances at Plastic Sax.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)

Are You Ready for the Country?

A musician friend recently repeated Steve Earle’s assertion that contemporary country music is “hip-hop for people who are afraid of black people.”  I objected.  In addition to reeking of sour grapes, Earle’s quip epitomizes the sort of divisive cultural classism that’s contributing to the ongoing societal rupture. 

I’m living proof that owning a MAGA hat isn’t required to appreciate current country hits.  Sure, the audience at last night’s Carrie Underwood concert was almost entirely white.  So what?  The audience at the Little Joe Hernandez concert I attended last weekend was almost entirely Latino.  I may not like the elective (or the officially mandated) segregation policies in Kansas City, but that doesn’t mean every music lover is racist.

As someone raised on the songs of Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson, I take it personally when an outsider puts down any form of country.  I may prefer Colter Wall to Rascal Flatts, but it’s never occurred to me to categorically impugn the character of fans of pop-country.  Even though I often joke that lots of people like bad music, I'm won't slander those who choose to listen to sounds I deem inferior.


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I reviewed a concert by Carrie Underwood, Maddi & Tae and Runaway June for The Kansas City Star.

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I write weekly concert previews for The Kansas City Star.

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I critique every set I caught at the Chicago Jazz Festival at Plastic Sax.

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The audio component of my KCUR feature about Robert Castillo and the Sextet is now available for streaming.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)

Album Review: Alasdair Roberts- The Fiery Margin

As a white Midwestern male of humble stock, I’ve had the luxury of never needing to give much thought to my identity.  My American ancestors- a long lineage of obscure farmers, teachers and preachers- allow me to follow a path that’s largely free of expectations, obligations and encumbrances.

The results of the genetic test I recently took weren’t particularly surprising.  While it’s amusing to confirm my hunch that I’m a modern-day Neanderthal, I learned that a substantial chunk of my nuts-and-bolts are directly traceable to Glasgow.

Do my roots explain my dark disposition?  I account for ten of the 200 views of the stark solo performance of "A Keen" filmed in the home of Alasdair Roberts.  The bleak song about “the grief of a parent upon the early death of a child” is agonizing.  It could be the Scot in me that’s compelled to relish the misery.

The expanded instrumentation of the reading of “A Keen” on the Scotsman’s new album The Fiery Margin is reminiscent of Joe Boyd’s brilliant production for the likes of Nick Drake and Richard Thompson.  While based in tradition, Roberts has more in common with his Drag City labelmate Bonnie “Prince” Billy than with a typical folk purist.

My adamant rejection of the concept of historical trauma led to a heated argument with one of my children last year.  Yet Roberts’ brooding songs about uniquely Scottish forms of torment seem to stir dormant memories in my soul.  The Fiery Margin sounds so much like a home I’ve never known that I may owe my kid an apology.


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My audio feature about Robert Castillo and his Kansas City groove-jazz band The Sextet aired on KCUR yesterday.  The sound will eventually be added to my text.

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“Look at all the murderers and rapists here!” Joe Hernandez exclaimed as he surveyed the harmonious crowd of more than 3,000 at Fiesta Hispana last night.  The Tex-Mex legend who rose to fame as the leader of Little Joe y La Familia pilloried the President’s attacks on the Latin American community.  He asked for a moment of silence to acknowledge victims of gun violence and for “children in cages” before leading his band in a heartbreaking reading of “America the Beautiful.”  Hernandez insisted that “I know who I am and what we are- we don’t need a target on our backs.”  I captured a bit of Hernandez’s defiant “Redneck Meskin Boy”.

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The discounted five-dollar tickets I bought for yesterday’s matinee concert by The Four Italian Tenors at the Folly Theater paid off in the form of complimentary champagne and chocolate.  The ensemble’s hammy popera was just a bonus.

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“I run the town daily like Super Jesus.”  Here’s the music video for “Super Jesus”, the Popper’s new song about the Kansas City cult figure Mike Wheeler.

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I first saw Eddie Money at Royals Stadium in 1978.  Kansas, the Steve Miller Band and Van Halen were also on the bill of Summer Jam.  I last saw Money at the suburban festival Old Shawnee Days in 2012.  Here’s my review..  The bookends are a perfect encapsulation of the career arc of a typical pop star.  Money died on Friday.

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The familiar sample of the Sylvers’ “Stay Away from Me” on Sampa the Great’s “Final Form” sent me down a dusty R&B rabbithole yesterday.  I discovered the bonkers “I’ll Never Let You Go”.  I’d like someone to explain the lyrics on to me.  It’s a metaphor, right?

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Three good songs- “Old Soul”, “Loose Change” and “Cocktail and a Song”- salvage the otherwise drearily mundane self-titled album by The Highwomen.

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You’d be correct if you suspect that I’m over the moon about (almost) everything related to this.

(Screenshot of my 23andMe’s site by There Stands the Glass.)

Album Review: Monty Alexander- Wareika Hill: RastaMonk Vibrations

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.)

Album Review: Daymé Arocena- Sonocardiogram

Cesária Évora’s burnished voice accentuated some of my happiest moments of the 1990s.  The morna sung by the Cape Verde star was an integral part of my domestic chill-out soundtrack during the Clinton era.  Évora died in 2011.  Her spirit seems to have resurfaced a continent away in the form of Daymé Arocena.  The Cuban musician performs entirely different styles of music- her wondrous new album includes jazz, R&B balladry and Santeria incantations- yet Sonocardiogram is imbued with the same sort of soulful spirituality that I relished in Évora two decades ago.


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My Tool take: Fear Inoculum is a net positive for the world.  Here’s the title track.

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I respect the positive vibes, constructive sentiments and jazz-steeped production on Common’s Let Love, but man, the Chicago rapper sure is corny.  Here’s “Hercules”.

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Unpopular opinion: Sleater-Kinney’s The Center Won't Hold is excellent.  Sure, it sounds just like a St. Vincent album.  That’s a good thing.

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Dedicated readers of my music blogs won’t be surprised to learn that I adore Miguel Zenón’s Sonero: The Music of Ismael Rivera.  RIYL: Charlie Parker, certifiable genius, Dizzy Gillespie.

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I don’t know if Post Malone or the team of people tasked with keeping the gravy train rolling is responsible for the success of the project, but the highly anticipated Hollywood’s Bleeding is more than sufficient.

(Original image of a Mexican street scene by There Stands the Glass.)

Ancient to the Future

After the Art Ensemble of Chicago scrambled my DNA at the Big Ears Festival in March, I knew that catching another date on the band’s fiftieth anniversary tour was the only way to fully recalibrate my mind and body.  A Southwest Airlines flash sale allowed me to satisfy my compulsion with a minimum of financial pain on Labor Day weekend.  The Art Ensemble of Chicago was among the 30 acts I caught during the three days I spent at the Chicago Jazz Festival.  I’ll write about the curative event in detail at Plastic Sax.  In the meantime, I’m uploading clips and photos to my Instagram account.  Here’s an initial ranking of my favorite sets.

1. Art Ensemble of Chicago
2. Ben Lamar Gay
3. The Juju Exchange
4. Eddie Palmieri Sextet
5. Jeremy Cunningham’s The Weather Up There
6. Russ Johnson Quartet
7. Christian McBride's New Jawn
8. Ambrose Akinmusire Quartet
9. Joel Ross Quartet
10. Rempis/Flaten/Ra + Baker Quartet

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My most recent concert previews for The Kansas City Star are here and here.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)

August Recap

Top Five Performances
1. Lauryn Hill- Kauffman Stadium
My review.
2. Jupiter & Okwess- 1900 Building
My Instagram clip.
3. Mary J. Blige- Starlight Theatre
My review.
4. Brian Scarborough Quintet- RecordBar
My review.
5. Zakk Sabbath- Midland theater
My Instagram clip.

Top Five Albums
1. Raphael Saadiq- Jimmy Lee
Soul exorcism.
2. P.P. Arnold- The New Adventures of…
My review.
3. Shannon Lay- August
My review.
4. Brockhampton- Ginger
Pray right.
5. Merlin- The Mortal
Dark magic.

Top Five Songs
1. Mike and the Moonpies- “Cheap Silver”
That high and lonesome sound.
2. Rapsody featuring D’Angelo and GZA- “Ibtihaj”
Trying to catch a wave.
3. Pusha T featuring Kash Doll- “Sociopath”
Charcuteries.
4. Channel Tres- “Raw Power”
As in Iggy.
5. PJ Morton featuring Jazmine Sullivan- “Built For Love”
An homage to Donny and Roberta.

I conducted the same exercise in July, June, May, April, March, February and January.

(Original image of Jupiter & Okwess by There Stands the Glass.)

Who Knows Where the Time Goes?

I’m home alone for the first time in thirty years.  The members of my brood aren’t going to burst through the front door at any moment and my wife is exploring a distant island.  I feel jarringly isolated no matter how high I crank the volume on the latest albums by Brockhampton, Rapsody and Taylor Swift.

That’s why the new release from Shannon Lay hit me like a ton of bricks.  I intended to give August just a cursory listen, but bleak songs like “Death Up Close” and “Nowhere” directly address my newfound solitude.

Lay is best known for her affiliations with Ty Segall and Kevin Morby, but August is superior to anything I’ve heard by either indie-rock mainstay.  Of the multitude of recordings by the Nick Drake and Sandy Denny facsimiles currently clamoring for attention, only Bill MacKay’s Fountain Fire and Lay’s August are worthy distractions from blockbusters like Ginger, Eve and Lover.


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I commend the Kansas City jazz musician Brian Scarborough at Plastic Sax.

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Miniature reviews of the aforementioned albums: Taylor Swift remains intensely unlikeable on Lover, but her craftsmanship is impeccable.  The sound field on Rapsody’s Eve is atrocious. I demand a remix.  Brockhampton’s Ginger is a glorious mess.  Sad songs (say so much).

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I knew Carl Jefferson.  I can say with complete confidence that he’d be horrified by most of the music currently released by the straight-ahead jazz record label he founded.  That said, you can’t argue with success.  The absurdly revisionist The History of Concord Jazz video feature is worth a look.

(Original image of Iceland by the life partner of There Stands the Glass.)

B.B. Luvs P.P.

What in the wild, wild imagination of Phil Spector is going on?  The unaccountably exceptional new album by P.P. Arnold- yes, that P.P. Arnold- is one of the most intensely pleasurable albums I’ve heard in ages.  Although I was familiar with the 72-year-old’s affiliation with the Rolling Stones and the Small Faces, I hadn’t heard an Arnold song in years.  The New Adventures of… should be nothing more than a nostalgic curiosity.  Yet every song hits home.  Most tracks, including the opening selection “Baby Blue”, are soulful love letters to a simpler time.  But there’s also funky disco, ornate pop and an absolutely bonkers rendering of Bob Dylan’s “Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie.”  As Bob and P.P. put it, “that's what you need man, and you need it bad.”


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I reviewed Lauryn Hill’s concert at Kauffman Stadium for The Kansas City Star.

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I write weekly concert previews for The Kansas City Star.

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I address the inherent challenge of honoring the past while embracing the present at Plastic Sax.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)

Album Review: Mike and the Moonpies- Cheap Silver and Solid Country Gold

I’ve long thought of Mike and the Moonpies as a likeable Texas honky tonk band that’s coated in the same red dirt as dozens of interchangeable ensembles.  The group’s new album Cheap Silver and Solid Country Gold elevates Mike and Moonpies from the slag heap to the showroom. 

As someone who was raised on countrypolitan albums by the likes of Charlie Rich, the woozy songs of three-named Texas outlaws like Jerry Jeff Walker and cheesy country radio hits by cornballs including Conway Twitty, listening to Cheap Silver and Solid Country Gold feels like going home.

The accents provided by the London Symphony Orchestra are likely to elicit comparisons to the occasionally ornate work of Sturgill Simpson, but the 31-minute Cheap Silver and Solid Country Gold moves me in ways that Simpson’s Metamodern Sounds in Country Music never did.

While they engage in country clichés, songs like “If You Want a Fool Around” and “You Look Good in Neon” transcend the genre.  And the opening lines of the title track- “I think I'll buy us all a round/We can toast the cheapest silver/That high and lonesome sound/The nights we don't remember” buckle my bum knee.


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My audio feature about the Kansas City blues artist Heather Newman aired on KCUR this morning.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)

The Enigmatic ECM

A chill went down my spine when the ECM Records spokesman Steve Lake revealed that dozens of the label’s out-of-print albums were in the process of being digitized during a panel discussion at the Big Ears Festival in March.  The deluge of castoffs from my favorite record label recently hit streaming services.  I’m drowning in improvised European sounds.  Capsule reviews of ten titles follow.  While none of the ostensible duds by prominent artists and obscurities by relative unknowns are unheralded masterpieces, each merits the consideration of listeners with similar predilections.  The albums are listed in order of my personal preference.


Enrico Rava Quartet- Ah (1980)
Thrilling post-bop.

Tom van der Geld and Children at Play- Out Patience (1977)
Akin to a new age version of Eric Dolphy’s Out to Lunch.

Rena Rama- Landscapes (1977)
Echoes of Old and New Dreams.

Enrico Rava Quartet- Opening Night (1982)
Intermittent brilliance.

Jack DeJohnette’s Directions- Untitled (1976)
Eccentricities indulged.

Arild Andersen- Lifelines (1981)
The trumpet and flugelhorn of Kenny Wheeler shine on the date led by the Norwegian bassist.

Steve Kuhn Quartet- Last Year’s Waltz (1982)
The live recording with vocalist Sheila Jordan is entirely unlike an ECM production.

Hajo Weber and Ulrich Ingenbold- Winterreise (1982)
Enchanting guitars.

Om- Kirikuki (1976)
Imagine a collaboration between the ethereal flautist Paul Horn and the noisy guitarist James “Blood” Ulmer.

Gary Burton Quartet- Easy as Pie (1981)
His least rewarding album.


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I write weekly concert previews for The Kansas City Star.

(Original image of Hyeyoung Shin’s “Tide” at the Kemper Museum of Contemporary Art by There Stands the Glass.)

Concert Review: Mary J. Blige and Nas at Starlight Theatre

An acquaintance made a distressing confession on Thursday morning.  Citing gun violence and festering social divisions, she told me she was dumbfounded by her daughter’s decision to become pregnant.  Had my friend joined me at the Mary J. Blige and Nas concert at Starlight Theatre that evening, her heartache might have been mended.  Blige offered a generous form of spiritual healing to members of the audience 6,000.

At the risk of committing blasphemy, I’ll suggest that Blige suffers for our sins.  Her unfiltered exploration of pain makes Blige one of the best performers of the new millennium.  She collapsed during a cathartic rendition of “No More Drama” and conducted her signature inelegant dance moves to chants of “go Mary” as if violent physical exertion might expel emotional trauma.

Blige exudes a sense of selflessness, but Nas is in it for himself.  Even though he and a backing band ran through many of his essential hits, his set was wack.  Nas said he didn’t recall the last time he performed in the area- this disappointed fan knows that his previous Kansas City appearance was with Damien Marley at the Beaumont Club in 2009- and repeatedly made the common faux pas of insisting he was in Kansas.  He doubled down on his geographical ignorance by asking “is this where Dorothy got lost?”

Nas’ indifference caused him to slip a few notches on my rap G.O.A.T. list.  My estimation of Blige, however, continues to grow.  If the $45.50 I paid at the gate doubled as a faith-based offering, Blige’s testimony represents one of the most rousing sermons I’ve heard.


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I write weekly concert previews for The Kansas City Star.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)

Album Review: Cory Wong- Motivational Music for the Syncopated Soul

I’ve long harbored a reverie about hanging out in off-the-strip Las Vegas taverns that feature old-school lounge acts.  Never having been to Sin City for anything but harried business trips as an adult, I don’t even know if joints like that still exist.  The sounds on Cory Wong’s Motivational Music for the Syncopated Soul are precisely what I have in mind.  The opening track could be a collaboration between Bruno Mars and Snarky Puppy.  Other selections sound as if members of Celine Dion’s pit band are on a woozy jazz bender.  “Today I’m Gonna Get Myself a Real Job” resembles an outtake from the score of La La Land while “Starting Line” is cheesy chorus line-style pop.  The pep talk freakout “Compassion Pass”- “you’ll never be as good at being Pat Metheny as Pat Metheny is at being Pat Metheny”- is worthy of prime Was (Not Was).  Much like Las Vegas, Motivational Music for the Syncopated Soul is garishly tacky and curiously beguiling.


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I  featured tracks by Jay McShann, Drugs and Attics, Anderson.Paak and Solange on a Best Music of 2019 (So Far) segment on KCUR’s Up To Date.

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I made a contentious appearance on 90.9 The Bridge’s Thursdays with Timothy Finn show.

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I write weekly concert previews for The Kansas City Star.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)