Draggin’ the Line

I was in bad shape when I stepped inside the Riot Room on the afternoon of Sunday, November 24.  A spate of terrible news had taken a toll on me.  Drawn to the nebulous blare coming from the stage, I pushed through a cluster of about 50 people at the free show to claim a spot in front of a bank of speakers.  Doubledrag, a Kansas City band I hadn’t previously encountered, was toying with the violent feedback drones associated with the Jesus and Mary Chain.  The extreme volume made it impossible to tell if Doubledrag was attempting to play actual songs.  I didn’t care.  Completely surrendering to the caustic sound was profoundly therapeutic.  Subsequent sets by the Austin shoegaze bands Blushing and Ringo Deathstarr didn’t do much for me.  I wasn’t bothered by the absence of funk, soul and swing in Doubledrag’s violent barrage, but the touring bands’ disregard of grooves grew wearisome.


---
I write weekly music previews for The Kansas City Star.

(Original image of Blushing by There Stands the Glass.)

Album Review: Junius Paul- Ism

I muddled through 2019 by taking the long view.  Rather than getting bogged down in minute-by-minute minutiae, I try to focus on the big picture.  The deepening of my longstanding affinity for Chicago’s fertile improvised music scene reflects my outlook.  The elements I admire about the AACM community are amplified on Junius Paul’s debut album Ism.  In addition to exuding a profound sense of spirituality, the bassist’s free jazz demonstrates a willingness to transcend swing and an eagerness to incorporate electronic elements.  The disorienting cut-and-paste techniques associated with co-producer Makaya McCraven as well as Paul’s affiliation with the Art Ensemble of Chicago are clearly evident.  Although I could do without a couple of the extended jams on the 82-minute Ism, the album is emblematic of the aesthetic I’ve embraced during the last 11 months.  Given that traveling to Knoxville and Chicago to catch performances by the reconstructed version of the Art Ensemble of Chicago was an integral component of my quest, the ancient-to-the-future motto espoused by Paul serves as my rallying cry of 2019.


---
I break down the Thanksgiving blues breakfast dance options in the latest edition of the weekly KCUR Creative Adventure email.

---
I’m cited in a The Kansas City Star article about Grammy-nominated musicians with area ties.

(Original image of the AACM Great Black Music Ensemble at Fred Anderson Park in Chicago by There Stands the Glass.)

Album Review: Brandee Younger- Soul Awakening

Almost everything about Brandee Younger’s new album Soul Awakening is confounding.  The jazz harpist’s project was recorded in 2012 but was self-released released five months ago.  In spite of contributions from the jazz heavyweights Ravi Coltrane and Sean Jones, Soul Awakening has received so little visibility that I only became aware of it last week.  And in spite of being as accessible and groovy as the work of crossover artists like Kamasi Washington and Sons of Kemet, it’s gained little traction on streaming services.  A stellar video of a recent concert makes it clear that Younger is a proud acolyte of the spiritual jazz icons Dorothy Ashby and Alice Coltrane.  I don’t ordinarily fall for throwback recordings, but the potent Soul Awakening stirs me.


---
I reviewed Wilco’s 25th anniversary concert for The Kansas City Star.

---
I reviewed Lana Del Rey’s concert at the Uptown Theater for The Kansas City Star.

---
I write concert previews for The Kansas City Star every week.

---
I consider The State of This City, the new album by the Myers Swingset, at Plastic Sax.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)

A New Age for New Age

A conversation I overheard during the intermission of Max Richter’s concert in Austin last month provided insights into the revival of dreamy new age music.  Describing the unobtrusive background music he listened to at work, a painfully fashionable twenty-something said “just give me a cello and a tinkling piano and I’m good.”

That guy probably accounts for some of the more than three million Spotify streams of “Staircase Sonata”.  The tranquil ditty is a standout track on Absent Minded, the debut album of the young Icelandic pianist Gabríel Ólafs.  It’s among the dozens of recent releases that fall somewhere between the effervescent work of George Winston and Brian Eno’s innovative sonic wallpaper.

Is Absent Minded shallow new age noodling or weighty ambient music?  I’m not sure it matters.  As someone who worked at a record store during the height of the Windham Hill era in the 1980s, I never derided the middle-aged people who were desperately eager to purchase therapeutic sounds.  I rightly suspected that I’d eventually come to understand their need for aural consolation.


---
I write weekly concert recommendations for The Kansas City Star.

---
I reviewed Matt Villinger’s All Day at Plastic Sax.

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

Something Sinister To It

I recently stumbled upon Rap For Grown Ups.  The site claims to offer “notes from the intelligent side of hip-hop.”  Rather than providing thoughtful analysis, it mostly supplies notifications about new releases.  Even so, it’s a helpful reference for old heads eager to discover relevant music that doesn’t get the shine of the latest work of ostensibly “unintelligent” hip-hop stars.

While I abhor cretins like Lil Mosey, I’ve never hid my affection for intentionally lowbrow stars like Cardi B, Doja Cat and DJ Khaled.  That’s another way of suggesting that I object to killjoys who summarily dismiss the best party music of the last decade.  Three recent releases falling more-or-less under the nebulous banner of “intelligent hip-hop” captured my attention.

Although he’s just 25, Thebe Kgositsile, the world-weary rapper who makes dyspeptic music as Earl Sweatshirt, already sounds like an old man.  Feet of Clay is 15 minutes of murky avant-garde experimentation.  Nothing he creates is likely to hit me as hard as Doris did in 2013, but I’ll always be more than willing to give Kgositsile the benefit of the doubt.

The Kansas City collective Drop Dead XX creates a simulacrum of Earl Sweatshirt on Dirtbike.  They’re also in thrall of Brockhampton, EarthGang and Tyler, the Creator.   Dirtbike is solid, but I hope the members of Drop Dead XX are able to move beyond their influences on future projects.

Now that I’ve regretfully demoted Kanye West, Brother Ali might be my favorite rapper.  Secrets & Escapes is filled with his grateful mysticism and producer Evidence’s dusty grooves.  Brother Ali's seventh studio album overflows with sublime rap for grownups.


---
I define terms at Plastic Sax in advance of my appearance on the Ask a Jazz Dude show.

---
I make weekly concert recommendations for The Kansas City Star.

---
The Chicago Reader gave me a photo credit for an image that accompanies a story about Bill MacKay.  I took the shot of MacKay and Nathan Bowles at the 2018 edition of the Cropped Out festival in Louisville.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)

Music City Moan

Did you record your solo banjo album in a bathroom?  I want to hear it.  Your new Chicago footwork track was made entirely on your phone?  Send it over. 

Decades of listening to do-it-yourself punk bands and murky bootlegs surreptitiously recorded by jazz fanatics conditioned me to low fidelity.  I didn’t flinch at the ostensibly revolutionary sonic mayhem created by the latest wave of devil-may-care Soundcloud rappers.  Unintentional distortion, background hiss and the clatter of silverware can’t phase me.  That’s why I’m occasionally stunned by gilt-edged studio trickery. 

The sound of Miranda Lambert’s new album Wildcard floors me.  In addition to being a rollicking cosmic country album, the exquisite fidelity of Wildcard makes it moonlight as a psychedelic adventure.  Each component of the mix bounces around the sound field like a frenetic bouncing ball.  Jay Joyce, the Nashville producer closely linked to Eric Church’s success, is responsible for the album’s sonic thrills. 

I’d love Wildcard even if the production didn’t tickle my eardrums and reshuffle my synapses.  That it sounds like a shimmering version of Exile on Main Street makes it that much sweeter.


---
I reviewed Celine Dion’s concert at the Sprint Center for The Kansas City Star.

---
I write weekly concert previews for The Kansas City Star.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)

Album Review: Kanye West- Jesus Is King

My Uber driver involuntarily swerved when I told him Kanye West was my favorite artist as we sped down Mopac Expressway in Austin last week.  I was blathering about my high hopes for the imminent release of Jesus Is King.
As a day-one West fan and avowed Christian, the prospect of a committed gospel album made me giddy.

My faith is gone.  Jesus Is King is a disaster.  Religion has always played an integral role in West’s art, but the tension between God and Satan is supplanted by imperious moral superiority and self-centered pettiness on Jesus Is King.  To top it off, the production is uninspired.  Only “Use This Gospel” and “God Is” contain glimmers of West’s genius.  I would have vastly preferred a live recording of one of his occasionally inspiring Sunday Services. 

As a zealous West fan since the release of “Through the Wire” in 2003, I’ve tolerated mountains of nonsense.  I draw the line at mediocre music.  West’s peace of mind is obviously more important than my selfish needs as a fan, but at least I’ll no longer run the risk of horrifying strangers with an extremely controversial take on music.  West’s three-year artistic rut- and all the baggage that comes along with it- makes him the man who used to be my favorite artist.


---
I make weekly concert recommendations for The Kansas City Star.

---
I reviewed a concert by Stefon Harris and Blackout at Plastic Sax.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)

October Recap

Top Five Performances
1. Nadia Larcher and Ensemble Ibérica- MTH Theater
My review.
2. Max Richter, Grace Davidson and the American Contemporary Music Ensemble- Austin City Limits Live at The Moody Theater (Austin)
My review.
3. Rodney Crowell- 04 Center (Austin)
Ain’t living long like that.
4. Tatsuya Nakatani- The Ship
My review.
5. Orville Peck- RecordBar
Who was that masked man?

Top Five Albums
1. Kris Davis- Diatom Ribbons
Unit structures.
2. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds- Ghosteen
My review.
3. Robert Glasper- Fuck Yo Feelings
My review.
4. Danny Brown- Uknowhatimsayin?
Don't know nothing but I do know this.
5. Jaimie Branch- Fly or Die II: Bird Dogs of Paradise
Jazz musicians with punk attitudes are inestimable.

Top Five Songs
1. Summer Walker and PartyNextDoor- “Just Might”
Self-awareness can be excruciating.
2. City Girls- “JT First Day Out”
Sprung.
3. Miranda Lambert- “Tequila Does”
Shots.
4. Bill Frisell- “Everywhere”
Sweet dreams are made of this.
5. Kanye West featuring Clipse and Kenny G- “Use This Gospel”
Kenny G takes a solo on Jesus Is King's best track.

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

(Original image of Tatsuya Nakatani by There Stands the Glass.)

Concert Review: Max Richter, Grace Davidson and the American Contemporary Music Ensemble at Austin City Limits Live at the Moody Theater

I delivered an unsolicited screed to the stoned stranger seated next to me at Austin City Limits Live at The Moody Theater on Friday, October 18.  My tirade prior to a concert by Max Richter, Grace Davidson and the American Contemporary Music Ensemble was instigated by an odd handout given to members of the audience of about 1,000.

Damon Lindelof, the co-creator of the HBO series The Leftovers, praised Richter’s “incredible music” and its frequent use in television and film productions on the leaflet that enraged me.  The hapless stranger graciously endured my harangue about how Richter’s music will prove far more enduring than the ephemeral creations of Hollywood.  While Richter is best known for his contributions to productions including Arrival, Black Mirror and the current Brad Pitt vehicle Ad Astra, much of his work is on the commanding level of composers such as Philip Glass, Steve Reich and Jóhann Jóhannsson.

I felt vindicated by Richter’s refusal to “enhance” his presentation with video projections.  The concert opened with a reading of his score for The Leftovers.  The music soared without the aid of Lindelof’s images.  Unfortunately, the spell was regularly disrupted by dozens of barbarians who applauded between movements and heedlessly let doors slam during their trips to the bar.

The second half of the concert consisted of a 90-minute version of the eight-hour song cycle Sleep, a project Richter introduced as “a protest album.”  Rather than inducing drowsiness, Sleep’s insistent minimalism arouses a fevered sense of agitation in this listener.  Davidson’s repeated “ooh-ah” refrain and the unrelenting cello bows became increasingly jarring as the piece progressed.  The ensemble occasionally broke off, allowing Richter to toy with decaying sound loops on his laptops like an ambient dub DJ.  As with many of the most exciting experiments, the performance challenged assumptions about the nature of music and how it’s meant to be consumed.


---
I reviewed Shoulder to Shoulder: Centennial Tribute to Women’s Suffrage by the Karrin Allyson Sextet at Plastic Sax.)

(Original image by Plastic Sax.)

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.


---
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.


---
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.


---
I contribute weekly concert recommendations to The Kansas City Star.

---
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.


---
I write weekly concert recommendations for The Kansas City Star.

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

---
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.


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

---
I write weekly concert recommendations for The Kansas City Star.

---
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.


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

---
I write weekly concert previews for The Kansas City Star.

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

---
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.


---
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.

---
“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”.

---
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.

---
“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.

---
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.

---
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?

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

---
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.


---
I write weekly concert previews for The Kansas City Star.

---
The first of my three-part examination of the Chicago Jazz Festival is at Plastic Sax.

---
My Brothers & Sisters was the best band I saw during the two hours I spent at the Crossroads Music Fest last week.

---
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.

---
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.)