| “ | Banhart covers Ella Jenkins' "Wake Up, Little Sparrow" as the opener to this album. The 80-year-old Jenkins has a made a career of creating children's folk music with an educational and inclusively moral bent, and perhaps lends Niño Rojo its best context: Over time, beyond cultural movement and sociological or musicological phenomenon, Banhart's record makes the most sense at the mercy of simple pleasures and the young at heart. You want truth? Beauty? They're here, in basic forms. Progress and relevance are very different concerns, and ones I'm willing to leave to historians with a better advantage. And as all Gira had to do was release the stuff, at the moment, I'm content to listen in turn. | ” |
| “ | The album is little different than their two previous atom bombs, De-Loused in the Comatorium and Frances the Mute — tense and anxious, continually pushing the boundaries of extreme production, with long periods of dynamics that rise ever higher, followed by an explosion of release (usually screaming hard rock with storms of atonal brass and horns). The album opens with "Vicarious Atonement," five minutes of spectral effects and piercing guitar that gets a boost at the beginning of the next track, "Tetragrammaton," and then blooms into full riffing glory after a few more minutes (and they're still nowhere near the end of the 16-minute track). John Frusciante, eccentric genius from the Red Hot Chili Peppers, returns on guitar, but Bixler-Zavala and Rodriguez-Lopez exert so much control over the sound of Mars Volta that Frusciante makes virtually no individual impression on this record, although most of the guitar work is his. (Granted, his presence leaves Rodriguez-Lopez open for more intricate work on production.) The Mars Volta are one of the most intriguing bands in rock, but their huge musical power is often deflected by Bixler-Zavala's conceptual themes (which are difficult to follow, but also, perversely, impossible to ignore) and blitzkrieg dynamics that are either dialed down to one or up to ten (but rarely in-between). | ” |
| “ | After the amazing Deloused in the Comatorium, The Mars Volta gave themselves two years to mess around with their confusing guitar sounds, vague lyrics, jazz and Latin influences. It turns out that Frances The Mute is the masterpiece some people are looking for, featuring arguably better musicianship, lyrical themes, and tighter sound than on their excellent debut. The CD ends up being three minutes short of eighty. From beginning to end, the album is a prime example of how to mix every genre of rock together, plus some stuff from outside the box, without ruining things. Frances The Mute is more than a musical adventure into the prodigal minds of The Mars Volta, and is more than the best album of 2005. It's The Mars Volta, at their very best. | ” |
| “ | Most of the more wandering elements of De-Loused and Frances the Mute disappear for this live document, replaced by hails of screaming organ, increased thump to the rhythm section, and Cedric Bixler-Zavala showing off the insane volatility in his voice. They still get jammy in places, but the extended guitar solos and softer textures lead to inevitable explosions. As nothing's ever been traditional with the Mars Volta, it's no surprise that their live albums aren't, either. The songs flow seamlessly and take subtitled digressions just like the studio records. In the liners, Rodriguez-Lopez describes how field recordings he made while on tour found their way into the mix, and there are no "How ya doin', Phoenix?!" or "Let me see you jump, San Diego!" from Bixler-Zavala to discern where the songs were recorded. All you get are dates -- "recorded between May 2004 and May 2005" -- and the occasional bit of crowd chatter to tell you this is live. (Well, the sound quality is a little off, too -- sometimes the drums sound terribly flat.) This means that Scab Dates is yet another intriguing window into the Mars Volta's world, instead of just a live album holdover. | ” |
| “ | The MARS VOLTA are a refreshing breath of air in an industry that often fails to meet the music mark! The MARS VOLTA are a machination of members from other bands but the end result is truly unique and very original concept album. l call this progressive. "De-loused In The Comatorium" is 61 minute epic album which in the heart tells the strange story of a man who attempts suicide and ends up in a coma, travels through his own consciousness and, eventually, wakes up and rejects the physical world in favour of death. The MARS VOLTA is the genius of lead guitarist and song writer Omar Rodriguez-Lopez who managed to write 61 Mins of pure magic. Lead vocalist Cedric Bixler Zavala has a high powerful voice which fits the bombastic music quite well... high energy and poignant. Musically these guys get into some pretty crazy and complex moods and tempo shifts... moves from semi - erratic blistering sounds to slow mezmorizing interludes littered with sound effects and odd bits. As you can tell this album covers a lot of ground from KING CRIMSON'ish bursts and guitar work to abstract PORCUPINE TREE'ish space to the modern ulcerous themes of RADIOHEAD. No question this is one of the loudest recordings in my collection but I have acquired The MARS VOLTA taste now so no turning back. This is pretty much an essential album and will appeal to all music lovers who don't mind a few less spoonfuls of sugar in their coffee. | ” |
| “ | Jeff Buckley resented being called a folk singer, but he made his name playing solo acoustic sets like this one on the New York coffee circuit. Sony released this live EP before his first fully produced rock album, Grace, perhaps to attract attention to the raw power of Buckley's greatest gift, his voice. These four songs certainly accomplished that end. Buckley hurdles seemingly unreachable octaves, suspends notes for what seems like minutes, and belts out his falsetto without a scintilla of restraint. That's a positive inasmuch as it allowed him to show off his considerable talent; it's a negative when it sounded like he was showing off. But his ten-minute cover of Van Morrison's "The Way Young Lovers Do" is a tour de force of strumming and scatting, and his acoustic "Eternal Life" has an electricity that is paradoxically lacking on the plugged-in album version. | ” |
| “ | Mondo Cane, save for a few instances of trademark Patton (or what people are used to from him, anyway) noises, tone shifts, and pitch reversals, could almost pass for a 78 RPM vinyl record dug up at a second-hand store in Sicily. It's a new-style big band record from across the pond made by someone with a true affection for that sound. Not a wink and a nudge at pop culture to be "ironic" or an attempt to sound hip for the sake of it, Mondo Cane is a labor of love made by a mind that could truly put something this different together and make it an enjoyable listen. | ” |
| “ | Mike Patton's "pop" project Peeping Tom kept fans waiting for a really, really long time. Consequently, the four years between its inception around 2002 and fruition in 2006 were a gestation period for urban-legend speculation about the record's sound to flood the public consciousness. Was he really working with Norah Jones? What did he mean by "pop record"? Given the thrashing, acidic nature of Patton's other projects like Mr. Bungle, Faith No More, and Tomahawk, nobody expected this album to be "Mike Patton Sings Boyz II Men," and most fans figured the notoriously enigmatic musician was just messing around. Peeping Tom makes a good case for itself as a pop\rock record or even as an alternative hip-hop record, but honestly, the most telling way to describe the album is as a Mike Patton record. As usual, the esoteric songster has used a new project as the means to create an entirely fresh and distinct rock style. The hip-hop presence on the disc is obvious, but Patton has assimilated it into his project so nimbly that the music isn't easily classifiable as hip-hop, rock, or pop. For instance, on "Mojo," the album's first single, gangsta-style squealing synths and reverb bass push ahead while Patton embraces a slicker and smoother incarnation of his Faith No More-era voice, slinking through the song with his trademark blend of clean vibrato, nasal tension, and belting clarity. This is not any kind of rap-rock that's been heard before and bears no likeness to Limp Bizkit, Kid Rock, or even Faith No More. | ” |
| “ | In his fifth outing as a leader, Joshua Redman breaks new ground with FREEDOM IN THE GROOVE. Adding another dimension to his already critically acclaimed discography, the young saxophonist explores a variety of grooves and meters while maintaining an infectious, swinging feel throughout. The music showcases the leader's compositional abilities, while giving the band--which features guitarist Peter Bernstein--plenty of room to explore the tunes' melodic and harmonic possibilities. The addition of the guitar to the quintet not only adds an exciting new voice to the group, but helps flesh-out the funky grooves and odd-metered tunes. FREEDOM IN THE GROOVE explores the funky, rhythmic edges of acoustic jazz, while maintaining the fluidity and freedom Redman has established in his earlier recordings. | ” |
| “ | This double CD gives one a definitive look at how the much-acclaimed tenor saxophonist Joshua Redman sounded in the mid-'90s. Joined by pianist Peter Martin, bassist Christopher Thomas, and drummer Brian Blade, Redman stretches from Gene Ammons (who is saluted on "Jig-a-Jug") to late period John Coltrane, showing off both his wide range and his lyricism. Redman is heard at his best on the four-minute cadenza that opens "St. Thomas," digging into "My One and Only Love" and playing almost outside on "Lyric." Of the 14 songs, nine are his originals and, although Redman was not at this point an innovator, he was well on his way to forming his own personal style. Recommended. | ” |
| “ | Coming fast on the heels of Redman's collaborative Yaya3 date with the same players (organist Sam Yahel and drummer Brian Blade), Elastic is more about pop/soul-funk than jazz, but it doesn't sacrifice any of Yaya3's organic feeling and improvisational focus. Here Yahel plays not only Hammond organ, but also Fender Rhodes, clavinet, and other assorted electric keys. Redman makes liberal use of overdubbing and signal processing, much of which is surprisingly subtle. The result is quite a lot of sound for three people, quite a lot of inspired blowing, and quite a lot of stylistic ground covered. Highlights include the agitated, over-the-top "Still Pushin' That Rock," the tight funk and involved lines of "Jazz Crimes" and "News from the Front," and the slow gospel of "Can a Good Thing Last Forever?" Redman seems fond of the Rhodes-soprano sax combination, particularly on mellower themes like "The Long Way Home" and "Unknowing." While one has to admire Redman's musical open-mindedness, his writing can take on a middle-of-the-road quality at times; on this record it surfaces on "Boogielastic". It says something that Yahel contributed the most alluring piece, a short-and-sweet song in five called "Oumou." | ” |
| “ | While its sheer bulk negates its interest to a general audience, The Complete Bill Evans on Verve is an essential library piece for any serious jazz fan or historian. Spanning 18 CDs, 269 tracks and 21 hours, the box set includes all of Evans' recordings for the label between 1962 and 1969, including 19 albums, two previously unreleased albums and 98 previously unreleased tracks. During these years, the pianist made some of his greatest music, including his legendary Village Vanguard sessions, and the set charts all of his changes, as he plays with his trio and as a solo artist, as well as a rare session with a rhythm quartet and strings. While the set itself could be a little more user-friendly -- it's encased in a steel box, with a 160-page booklet and an 18-disc fanpack on separate shelves -- the music itself is nearly flawless and nearly essential for most serious jazz fans. | ” |
| “ | Just three years into their recording career, the Mothers of Invention released their second double album, Uncle Meat, which began life as the largely instrumental soundtrack to an unfinished film. It's essentially a transitional work, but it's a fascinating one, showcasing Frank Zappa's ever-increasing compositional dexterity and the Mothers' emerging instrumental prowess. It was potentially easy to overlook Zappa's melodic gifts on albums past, but on Uncle Meat, he thrusts them firmly into the spotlight; what few lyrics there are, Zappa says in the liner notes, are in-jokes relevant only to the band. Thus, Uncle Meat became the point at which Zappa began to establish himself as a composer and he would return to many of these pieces repeatedly over the course of his career. Taken as a whole, Uncle Meat comes off as a hodgepodge, with centerpieces scattered between variations on previous pieces, short concert excerpts, less-realized experiments, doo wop tunes, and comedy bits; the programming often feels as random as the abrupt transitions and tape experiments held over from Zappa's last few projects. But despite the absence of a conceptual framework, the unfocused sprawl of Uncle Meat is actually a big part of its appeal. It's exciting to hear one of the most creatively fertile minds in rock pushing restlessly into new territory, even if he isn't always quite sure where he's going. However, several tracks hint at the jazz-rock fusion soon to come, especially the extended album closer "King Kong"; it's his first unequivocal success in that area, with its odd time signature helping turn it into a rhythmically kinetic blowing vehicle. Though some might miss the gleeful satire of Zappa's previous work with the Mothers, Uncle Meat's continued abundance of musical ideas places it among his most intriguing works. | ” |
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