The 2015 Shortlist

For some years in the late 70s and early 80s I was a dj and writer of music ‘criticism.’ And yes, I put scare quotes around ‘criticism’ because I saw my role more as a passionate lover and devotee of music and I just wanted to share as much of this love with others. So mostly I wrote about what I loved. I didn’t take much pleasure in trashing what I thought sucked; I just ignored it. Mostly.

So it’s been years since I wrote about music, though I am attempting to keep this blog where I periodically write a bit about something music related.  But recently, I had a lovely dinner with a friend who is an awesome DJ on KXCI, and for the first time in years I found myself sitting on the floor in front of the ole victrola, playing a bunch of stuff for her and feeling that familiar passion of sharing music that moves me. So I decided to post this shortlist review of my favorite cds/records released in 2015. I was going to keep it limited to five, (rather than the more traditional Top Ten) but I had to include the sixth. Just had to!

So, first of all, there is the completely brilliant and jaw-droppingly inspired performance of Colin Stetson and Sarah Neufeld in their first collaboration: Never Were The Way She Was. If you don’t recognize the names, Neufeld is a violinist for Arcade Fire and Bell Orchestre, as well as a guest musician on a shit-load of others’ records and Stetson is a virtuoso of the extended technique on various saxophones and bass clarinet, but if you are one of those who saw Bon Iver and Feist a few years back here in town, you saw him playing in both bands!

Stetson eschews looping and overdubbing, so when you understand that everything he is doing on his saxophones is being done live, that’s when your jaw drops! He’s several solo cds and Neufeld released her first solo in 2013 and has a new one coming out in February. Never Were The Way She Was, as I said above, is their first duet collaboration and I hope it won’t be their last. You can see their full performance at the Moers Festival this past May here. If the opening piece doesn’t draw you into their world integrating minimalist phrasing with classical, jazz and rock stylings they may not be your cup of tea, but I think you’ll find there’s no denying their originality and creativity. Passionate, primal, beautiful.

If you’ve not the time for a full performance, you may want to check out these cuts:

The rest of us

The Sun Roars Into View

Won’t Be A Thing To Become

Second up is a rousing cd from Avec le Soleil Sortant de sa Bouche entitled Zubberdust. This was one of those serendipitous findings. I was at one of the best cd stores in Montreal, loading up on mostly ConstellationRecords stuff from folks I know, and this crazy, mostly instrumental, giddy, angular, funky, avant, guitar-driven rock was playing on the store’s stereo. I heard bits that reminded me of Nick Cave’s band The Birthday Party, but the wordless vocalizing seemed to alternate between Cave and early David Byrne.

I later found out that Aved le soleil sortant de sa bouche is a bit of a local Montreal “supergroup” made up of members from Montreal’s healthy and robust emperimental rock and post-rock communities such as Panopticon Eyelids, Pas Chic Chic, Red Mass and – also on Constellation – Fly Pan Am.

Zubberdust is comprised of two 20-minute multi-part pieces, the Constellation website nails in its description: “This is (mostly) instrumental rock that exuberantly succeeds in blending a primitivist, hypnotic energy with cerebral pleasures, seeding an addictive trail of sonic brain-candy throughout the mixes. The band wholly embodies and channels its inimitable square grooves, while teasing out the innumerable joys of repetition via micro-deployments of ever-shifting electronic overlays – along with the occasional full-stop and 180 degree turn.”

Just give a listen to these infectious excerpts:

Super pastiche fantastique / New Sun II

Super pastiche fantastique / New Sun IV

Face a l’instant III

Third on my shortlist is the eponymous debut cd from Ibeyi, (the word comes from the Yoruba language meaning “twins”) probably the best known performers to make my list. Ibeyi is a French-Cuban musical duo consisting of twin sisters born in Paris, but who had lived in Havana for the first two years of their lives. Lisa-Kainde Diaz and Naomi Diaz sing in English and Yoruba, the Nigerian language spoken by their ancestors before being brought to Cuba by the Spanish as slaves. Their music integrates elements of Yoruba, French and Afro-Cuban music with jazz, hip-hop beats and samples alongside traditional instruments like the cajon and bata-drums. As an aside, their dad was the great Cuban percussionist, Anga Diaz, who played in both Irakere and the Bueno Vista Social Club.

The first time I saw and heard the video for “River,” I was mesmerized by the imagery as well as the deep, sensuous sonority of their voices. No voices blend as exquisitely as sisters, and when you have twin sisters….

River

Then “Mama Says” just about tore me up, especially when one of the sisters, around the 3-minute mark seems to truly, spontaneously tear up. Chills!

Finally, I wish to share the video for this beautiful and achingly plaintive cry for love, "Ghosts":


“My ghosts are not gone

They dance in the shade

And kiss the black core of my heart

Making words, making sounds, making songs

Now you can feel my heart spinning

You turn my whole life around

I want to write a new beginning

Let go of the ghosts

Let dreams and hopes fly

And give our love another try

Should we just let it be?

Fourth up is Tucson’s own, Katterwaul. The first time I heard Brittany Katter was at my first Club Crawl after moving to Tucson in 2007 when she was singing in Fell City Shouts. From the first song I knew I was in the presence of raw talent. Since forming her own band – a great play on her last name – that talent has blossomed and it really shines on her latest release, 15 Forever.

Here’s a video for the title cut and a psychedelicized video for “Sound Of My Name.”

Fifth is another Montreal-based musician, MichaelFeuerstack, who has been one of Canada’s most revered songwriters and collaborator, found on the records of many other performers, touring with folks such as the Acorn, Land of Talk and Bry Webb, while also being a member of BellOrchestre, Wooden Stars and The Luyas. Along with releasing some thoroughly wonderful, crookedly wry and beautiful songs under his own name, he’s also released several cds under the alias of Snailhouse.

In 2015, besides recording a new Luyas cd due out sometime in 2016, Feuerstack released The Forgettable Truth. Typical of the mutually supportive Montreal alt-music community, you’ll hear contributions from Pieto Amato (Bell Orchestre, Luyas), Mike Belyea (Jenn Grant), Laurel Sprengelmeyer (aka Little Scream) and Nick Cobham (Olympic Symphonium) among others.

The Globe and Mail listed The Forgettable Truth as among their favorite things from 2015 and me too! Here’s two cuts for you to get some idea as to what to expect: 

"Clackity Clack"

"Glacier Love"

And finally, yet again from Montreal (that’s four out of the six!) is the recent release from Surface of Atlantic entitled Fortunate Lives. Funny enough, none of my Montreal friends who are heavily involved in the Montreal music community knew about this band when I told them I had happened upon their cd release in September at La Sala Rosa.

The only website about them is in French, so I still know nothing of them except that their live performance mesmerized me with it’s ambient-chamber-rock. Though all of them have French names and the website is in French and all their between song chatter was in French, their vocals are in English! Make of that what you will. It’s difficult to isolate any single songs here because with Surface of Atlantic, the sum of the parts really is greater than the parts taken individually. So I strongly recommend that you pour yourself your favorite beverage (wine, whiskey or tea) and sit back and let this roll.

If you’re not yet willing or able to do so just yet, then try these out:

"Explosion"

"To the lions"

"Wires"

HAPPY NEW EAR!  ;-)

Surface of Atlantic

Montreal is a beautiful city. For a native New Yorker like me, it's food and drink culture alone makes it an incredibly livable city. And for music, few cities can claim such fertility and diversity. I was there in September. Whenever I'm in a different city -- especially where I don't speak the local language, I enjoy a kind of physical/energetic/emotional displacement; a kind of poignant aloneness that isn't quite loneliness, but sometimes touches upon it. It's a sweet and a bit bitter, and totally alive feeling that penetrates bodymind. Walking the streets at night, this feeling can sweetly overwhelm.

This time, I made it to La Sala Rosa (and the fact that I was married in La Sala Rosa in the Palazzo Vecchio in Fierenze added a resonance to that for me) for the cd release of the latest cd from Surface of Atlantic, Fortunate Lives.

Maybe it was the fact that I was surrounded by folk speaking French; maybe it was the similarity of the room to rooms I've attended in NYC and in Amsterdam; maybe it was the two boiler-makers, but the sense of being alone in the midst of a swirling sea of sound, alone together with this room full of others heightened for me the magic of the music.

I'd never heard of the band, but I was mesmerized by their sound which seemed to wash over the room, enveloping us in this lush ocean which made me wonder if that's what's behind the fairly strange name: Surface of Atlantic.

The songs I've linked to here are actually from a previous cd, A Frame Per Season. If it's autumn where you live, I think you'll enjoy these as a soundtrack. Sit back, perhaps with a nice glass of cabernet or a smoky whiskey and let it wash over you.

My Mother Is Dead

For the last five years of my mother’s life, I would share with people that the Alzheimer’s had already taken my mother; that the woman who birthed and raised me had already passed. It was, to my mind, a most dramatic example of the buddha’s core teaching of anatta or “not-self.” With the erasure of her memory, it was all too painfully obvious that she was truly gone. Of course, this was true all along; the woman who would make my favorite Italian specialties when I’d visit my folks in Florida, during the 17 years they lived there after living their whole lives in New York, was not the same woman who had wiped my ass, broke my skull, taught me how to dance, shamed me more than once and generally been there for me through thick and thin. And I, of course wasn’t the same boy or young man who had experienced this woman as his mother.

But Alzheimer’s made it starkly real: my mother was dead.

While the mother who had raised me was long gone, as long as she had her memories that we could share, there was the persistence of the evolving process of our relationship. With the fading of memory, and the loss of her ability to retain from one moment to the next who I was, there was no real way for the intimacy of relationship. I could be her care-giver, but I was no longer her son. Those who romanticize “living in the moment,” haven’t really thought it through: it’s why I’m so critical of the modern reduction of the buddhist practice of satipatthana to just “bare attention” to the present moment. With such a reduction of attention, what is lost is what is most real and important in human experience: relationship. We see what’s present, but we don’t make the connections to what in the past led to what is present; we fail to see how what is in the present will determine the future. Real mindfulness requires memory and it is memory that allows for the fullness of relationship and the understanding of context. All that was gone. I had my memories, but true relationship requires the mutual remembrance and recognition that was no longer possible to share with my mother.

My mother was dead.

The woman who had been an Arthur Murray dance instructor, and who taught me to Lindy, Mambo, Foxtrot and Cha-Cha; the woman who ignited my passion for music with her stories of hanging out with Count Basie, and who would debate with me as to who was a better drummer, Ginger Baker or Buddy Rich, and who sang while washing the dishes sounding a bit like Sarah Vaughn, and sometimes singing along to records by Billie Holiday and Dinah Washington; the woman who also turned me on to Hank Williams, Charley Pride and Jimmie Rodgers as well as Stravinsky, Debussy, Vivaldi, and the operas of Giuseppe Verdi; the woman who would be knitting in my bedroom listening to Frank Zappa’s Burnt Weeny Sandwich when I returned home from school; the woman who tolerated the many bands I had, sometimes making more noise than anything resembling the music she had shared with me and yet never complaining.

    

The woman who was such an amazing cook that three different people offered to back her in opening a restaurant if she only gave the word but who wasn’t interested in turning her love of cooking into a business; though she would volunteer for every church event, cooking up a storm; or filling in for the chef at the Boys’ Club Camp where I was the Corral Hand, making breakfast for 140 kids so the cook could go home to be with his ailing mother. The woman who taught me to appreciate good wine and whiskey, and then joked that I had “champagne taste and a beer budget,” when I was making $15 per music review while living in the East Village, New York City. A woman who never questioned the strange and wonderful people I’d bring home, but instead made sure they got a solid meal.

The woman who taught me how to read before I was in Kindergarten, whose passion for books continues in my life, and now in my 3-year old daughter whose library continues to grow almost weekly.  The woman who turned me on to science, especially biology and who did all she could to support and encourage my interest, and then just as fully supported my sudden turn to philosophy and literature after my sister died when I was sixteen.

My mother is dead.

I’d thought I’d done my grieving throughout the five years Alzheimer’s progressively claimed her mind and took her away from me, my father, and my daughters.  And despite having felt like I’d lost my mother when Alzheimer’s took her mind, as the first Mother’s Day approached since her death this past February, I became conscious of a strange feeling; a void. It was like becoming aware of a blind spot: you don’t know it’s there because you don’t see it and only when you bring your attention to it do you see what is missing. The hole in one’s vision is finally seen but what you are seeing is an absence. When I finally looked into this feeling, I could see it was the space left by my mother’s absence. A deeper absence than was present for the five years before her death. With a suddenness that surprised me, the words from Alban Berg’s Wozzek sprung up in my mind’s ear:

“Du! Dein Mutter ist tot.”

And then, the other night, my three-year old daughter asked to play one of her favorite cds on her mini-cd player, the one she "inherited," along with the cds, from my mother. As she was drawing with her colored pencils, "La Donna E Mobile" from Verdi's Rigoletto played and I saw how a naturalist form of karma is playing out here in my home. I asked Giovanna if she remembered how she came to have the cd player and the cds: "I got them from Old Grandma!" And with that, she gave me a smile that was all I needed to understand that my mother's life continues in the memories of those who loved her.

Laurie Anderson

When I first heard "O Superman" as it was released on a single, I felt shivers up and down my spine. Here was a new voice, a new way of presenting provocative ideas through music and performance! It was exciting.

So when her debut LP, Big Science was released, I was overjoyed to get my reviewer's copy. My review, needless to say, was positive. Not only did I think the LP was fabulous, I now had a crush on Laurie Anderson! I am sure I was only one of many men -- and women -- who nurtured such a crush!

I saw her perform at every opportunity, amazed at the breath of a piece such as United States which indeed seemed to ramble all over the place, and then end with a motif that simply tied the whole sprawling performance together! A true tour de force. I followed her career for the rest of the 80s and into the 90s, but somewhere along the way after that she simply dropped off my radar.

At one time, she was a fairly regular patron at a restaurant I worked at. I remember overhearing her talk about her -- at the time -- new budding relationship with Lou Reed! I was happy to hear that they married a few years back.

But perhaps the biggest impact Laurie Anderson had on my life was when I fell in love with a Laurie Anderson look-a-like! Back in the 80s, there were quite a few of such women in the downtown scene. I remember being at a party, and seeing Laurie Anderson, with her spiky haircut, dressed in her signature white linen baggy jacket and pants standing at the bar. It was an open bar, so my offer to buy her a drink got a wry little smirk. By then I realized my mistake, but this woman was hot none-the-less and willing to hang with me, sharing our stories. We also shared phone numbers when my friend, Rachid walked over and said that we had to go to our next stop of party-crawling!

I cannot mention this woman's name as she was indeed a well-known artist. Our affair did not last long. She had a boyfriend. I was seeing several other women, but the fact that she looked like Laurie Anderson and was a bit over two decades older than I was at the time I found extremely exciting. Through her I got to meet John Cage. When I told him that I had been a fan ever since I found a copy of Variations IV in a cut-out bin at Woolworth's when I was ten years old, he responded with a hearty laugh, "Oh, your poor mother!"

The beginning of the end of our relationship was sparked by a romp on the nude beach out at Jones Beach. A case of crabs, spread to her boyfriend, did not go over very well! But in all this time, I've often thought of her and wondered if she was still active in the art scene. As I prepared to write this, I googled her and found that indeed she is! I am happy to hear it.

Vijaya Anand: Dance, Raja, Dance

Okay, I have a weakness for Bollywood, but I am in no way an afficianando. When I lived in Brooklyn, and had cable for the only time in my life, I would watch Bollywood films in rapt fascination -- often having little idea of what was going on, but just as often fairly able to follow the archetypal and cliched storylines. What I LOVED, was the crazy, frenzied dancing and singing -- again, often in the most ludicrous narrative situations. "Dad died; let's dance!"

Vijaya Anand's contribution to Bollywood music is his use of everything except the kitchen sink (and I think I hear THAT in one of these cuts!). Don't like what you're hearing? Stick around for about 4 or 6 bars and it will change! I mean, his music changes more than mountain weather! In "Naane Maharaja" (I Am The Emperor), there's some calypso rhythms, jazz horns, old-timey banjos, dance-hall dub effects, a bit of techno-pop, violins scratching away like fiddles and weird sound effects, not to mention the South Indian drums! In about four minutes of madness!

I mean it, when I need to make a visitor smile, I put this cd on and it never fails. You cannot be sad and listen to this music. On the other hand, if you are not into it; if you do not just give yourself over to it, you will be sooooo irritated by this music!

This was one of the first releases on David Byrne's Luaka Bop label, and after 17 years, it still works its crazy rhythm charms!

The American Analog Set: set free

Formed in 1995, based in Austin, AmAnSet, as they are frequently referred to, has been called a 'drone-pop' band. There early sound was highly influenced by krautrock and post-rock and British shoe-gazer bands like Cocteau Twins, often featuring long instrumental passages. Over time, their songs became shorter and more pop-influenced. The band has released six full-length albums, four EPs, and several vinyl singles.

The group is led by singer/ songwriter/ guitarist Andrew Kenny. Additional members include, or have included, Lee Gillespie, Mark Smith, Craig McCaffrey, Tom Hoff, Lisa Roschmann, and Sean Ripple. Founding member Roschmann left the band in late 1999; Hoff and Ripple joined in early 2000 and McCaffery replaced Hoff in 2003.

In October 2005, rumors began spreading across the Internet that the group was on the verge of disbanding. The band quickly refuted such rumors, but added that they may not tour again due to their obligations with other projects. I've not heard anything about them since the release of Set Free in 2005. It was released in North America by Canadian label Arts & Crafts, and -- as you might expect -- I discovered it at Soundscapes, my favorite cd store in North America, on Bloor in Toronto.

This cd is perfect for sipping whiskey and hanging out as well as for driving (please, NOT at the same time!). The crisp percussive production, and the drone and soft whispery vocals get you to a good cruising speed and never lets up. There's a frisson that is caused by a lyric like:

"The boys are in a band together
the girls all fuckin' stand together"

from "Cook Kids Keep" made especially so by that soft, warm whisper of a voice!

Because of the drony quality of the music, we're not even looking for 'stand-outs' but with this cd, a full aural environment is created that soaks into you and you simply float in it. I LOVE this cd, but I can't tell you anything more specific about why. It's one of those cds with sounds that take you away, becoming a soundtrack to reveries and daydreams -- of things that happened long ago or maybe never. The Brazilians have a word for it; a kind of sweetbitter sadness.

The instrumental, "(Theme From) Everything Ends" features a melodica playing its melodic line over throbbing bass and that crisp drumming. An old Buddhist like me can take that title and run with it! Especially sweet is how it cuts right into "Sharp Briar." The last cut, "Fuck This.... I'm Leaving" reminds me of Brian Eno Before And After Science era. Despite it's title, it's sound and atmospheric influence continues long after the cd ends.

Haris Alexiou: Di Efchon

Haris Alexiou is one of Greece’s greatest contemporary singers. She’s been at it since the 70s. She was instrumental in reviving ‘Rebetika’ songs after the fall of the military junta in the mid-70s. Over the course of her career, she collaborated with many of Greece’s greatest composers, as well as others, including Paolo Conte.

Di Efchon (With Blessings) comes from 1992, and presents a new thrust in terms of more contemporary themes, and song forms. Alexiou’s voice is so strong, vibrant, and the melodies are passionately catchy. She brings deep warmth to the lyrics of Lina Nikolakopoulou, while her soaring high notes are never less than stunningly awesome. There’s little need to question why in Greece she earned the nickname “Haroula” (Little Grace). Here the songs blend Grecian folk (Dhimotica) with a contemporary approach (Smyrneika) reminiscent of Peter Gabriel’s work from the late 80s early 90s.

My sister married a Greek guy when I was four years old. My brother-in-law had a sister who, I thought, a real beauty, with raven black hair, and when she spoke – English or Greek – her voice had this earthy sensuousness that has ever since made Greek sound like sex to me! I think it’s the sibilant sounds that permeate the language, along with the slight slur on many of their consonants that sound a bit ‘drunken.’

There’s a lot of cheesy popular Greek music, but Haris Alexiou is one of those who is popular, and relevant. Whether one is interested in Greek pop, or merely curious about a woman who is an icon to her culture, Haris Alexiou is a singer who will move you with her powerful voice.