13th CD

Treasure. Four stars.

The Cocteau Twins are one of those flukes, a band out of time. Brought together in the late seventies, when post punk and new wave were the sounds of the future, a trio in Scotland morphed from goth sensibilities into all-encompassing gauzy soundscapes.

In 1984 the lineup was Robin Guthrie on guitar, Simon Raymonde on bass and Elizabeth Fraser on all vocals. Strangely, I couldn't find a listing for other instruments; it was all production. That caveat aside...

The Cocteau Twins are built upon Fraser's extraordinary vocals. You'd swear she was two people the way her voice dips and soars in near operatic flights. Her range and ability of expression are also noteworthy for not utilizing lyrics. Her songs are based in pure sound; English and (maybe) others crop up, seemingly for the feel of the word. That such distance, such affectedness, results in such emotionally gripping work is a testament to the Cocteaus talent.

When I heard Ivo for the first time, I'd have sworn it was a 90s product. It opens with acoustic strumming and Fraser's voice - off putting for spouting nonsense in such a high pitch. It's like getting dunked in cold water, but the music, which is equally as affected as her voice, is full of bell like percussion and a cooling lushness. It sways.

Lorelei is playful and spinning. One of the unique elements of the record is its ability to capture the sound of movement. The song structure is out of the ordinary, yet not inaccessable. Typical pop structure is forsaken with the rest of normality.

Beatrix is absolutely beautiful, a pure cascade of jangling harmonies. It's almost a complete musical circle, but just as it gets predictable, it shifts gears and becomes a brand new song laid on the same foundation.

Persephone lifts the style of hard rock. It's grungy, yet still somehow delicate and Fraser adapts to the tone perfectly. She utilizes near-English, but it makes no snese anyway. The quality is turbulent and ominous. Her two vocals play off each other excellently (she always doubles her voice and sings on different scales, which is a neat touch).

Pandora sounds absolutely Spanish. It has a sultry quality, and instrumental interludes as gentle as lacework.

Amelia is the most emotional moment. The tone is similar to Ivo and Lorelei, only the playful strangeness has been replaced with lament and sorrow and a sense of space and grandeur.

Aloysius returns from the dark. It's celebratory, frivolous and life-affirming. The drum beat is oddly low and deep for the "song." Listening to the CD several times, I can only wish they'd been a little less repetitious. First time, it's so lovely you don't mind, but afterwards.... So this CD is not to be revisited with too much consistancy.

Cicely is nicely ambiguous and strange. It's a melting pot of the sounds and styles from the other tracks. It calls to mind Persephone and is consistently contradictory.

Otterley is the most mysterious moment. Fraser descends to a breathy whisper, the music mixes with the sound of the tide. Atmosphere in spades. High drama being acted out in an unknown language.

And then it botches it completely. Donimo, six minutes of the most aggravating tune imaginable. It grates on me from the word go, yet somehow this, which would still have been weak at two minutes, gets stretched to a painful six, and sounds proud of itself for it! I don't listen to it; I stop at Otterley. Forced to take the album as a whole, Donimo stuck at the end to ruin the experience knocks a whole star off the rating.

Other than that, the Cocteau Twins are worth a listen.

12th CD...European plane ticket

Gulag Orkestar. Four stars.

No guitars were used in the making of this album.

Instead, Zach Condon (Beirut), a 19 year old from Albuquerque, takes up ukelele, mandolin, trumpet, piano, organ and percussion (including tambourine and congas), with a little help from members of A Hawk and a Hacksaw picking out a line here and there on clarinet or violin.

The result is probably the most European CD ever created by an American. You can tell right from the opening title track, which starts almost as a mournful band tuning up...somewhere in the Balkans. I thought the whole record sounded tinny on first few listens, but once you're past the lack of guitar and bass, a really incredible sound is open to you. A deep piano, Zach's melancholy vocals working in layers, trumpet everywhere and subtle percussion.

Prenzlauerberg (named for a nice district in Berlin) is a waltz. It sounds like he's singing in another language, but it's just him slurring his English, adding a mysterious vibe and leaving the song open to interpretation.

Brandenburg (named for a German state) is the first song to really pop out at you, via its driving mandolin melody. Despite the pace, it's no less sad for it. It's like an ode to a time and place long gone. That's Beirut's specialty.

Postcards from Italy runs along as a romantic ukelele tune that morphs into a triumphant second half. Trumpet is not a beautiful instrument, but Beirut transforms it.

Accordion comes to the foreground in Mount Wroclai (Idle Days), a peaceful, good-natured tune with a repetitive, chanted chorus and splendid percussion. You can dance to this one. Oh, and Mt. Wroclai is a fictional place.

Rhineland (Heartland) is a more subdued, melancholy number.

Then Scenic World, a bit of a shock, as it's got electronics in it that I find distracting. It's rather like having Pac Man running in the background, but once you're used to it, it's not too bad and the song's only two minutes anyway.

Bratislava (capital of Slovakia) gets back to more familiar territory. It's a crowded, militaristic piece that I get claustrophobic listening to.

The Bunker's sparsity is a breather, though the sound burgeons out as it goes along.

The Canals of Our City is well placed, as the album begins to wind down in a stately, graceful manner. The layers on Zach's voice can be a bit frustrating if you're trying to get the gist of what he's saying. It adds mystery though. Sort of like early T. Rex, though completely different in every other way.

After the Curtain is a bit silly. Applause bursts in like someone pressed a button, and there's the electronics again. The Pac Man sounds gets to be the only solo on the entire CD, and you can almost see the credits roll.

Overall, I'd say the first half of the CD is dynamite, and the second just can't measure up. Despite that, Beirut's debut is undoubtedly one of 2006s most interesting releases, and curiously genre-proof. It's certainly as alternative as they come. I can't wait to check out The Flying Club Cup.

11th CD (with picture anyway)

Everybody Knows This is Nowhere. Five stars.

Back in the early days of Buffalo Springfield, Neil Young met the Rockets, a psychedelic/folk hybrid that weren't really getting anywhere. He must have liked them, because after both bands had disintegrated, he got what was left of the Rockets, re-named them Crazy Horse and put them up as backing band for his second solo record.

So, out went the strings and the thoughtful little fragments that made up record 1, to be replaced with a more standard rock ensemble. Guitar (Danny Whitten), bass (Billy Talbot) and drums (Ralph Molina). The overall sound is still undeniably countryish.

Kicks off with Cinnamon Girl, immensely accessable, as handclaps always signify. Guitars manage to soar and be incredibly muddy at the same time. Straight ahead rock song, with an immediately fabulous riff that revolves through the whole thing and never wears out.

Everybody Knows This is Nowhere is pretty much an ode to the country and is the shortest tune. The two verses and chorus are sung in a rather rough harmony with Neil having entirely ditched his "thin" falsetto for the job. Guitars cover the song again, jangling in tandem.

Round and Round (It Won't Be Long) is a duet with Robin Lane, then on the folk circuit, since remembered on the New Wave circuit. Their voices compliment each other beautifully and the song itself is one of those wistful, melancholy numbers he does so very well. Six minutes of acoustic balladry and emotional metaphor.

Down by the River is, wonder of wonders, a Neil Young murder ballad. Well, not quite, since the lyric is purposefully obscure, only being meant to frame a sprawling, intense, grungy guitar workout. As a mood piece, it is fabulous. As a song, it's somewhat frustrating, as the lyric is so interesting and it never develops, and instead we get a mountain of morose guitar soloing. That being the intended purpose, it's excellent anyway.

The Losing End (When You're On) shouldn't be any good at all. It contains a rather unforgivably pedestrian line about tears falling like rain, along with some incredibly messy harmonies. Somehow it gets away with these technicalities and is quite an endearing country tune, when all is said and done.

Running Dry (Requiem for the Rockets) features Bobby Notkoff, another Rocket, on violin, making this the darkest track on the album. It smolders, like the soundtrack to the best western you'll never see.

Finally, it's the ten minute magnum opus. Cowgirl in the Sand. Starting quietly, it quickly shifts into an epic jam. A lyric is attached, and it makes a strategic moment of melodicism amidst the musical exhibition. It couldn't be more different from Down by the River, and it actually makes for a more enjoyable listen. It never becomes complacent, always shifting, and emotion never lets the guitars go for a second.

That's it. So I'm only two albums into this guy's catalogue, and I think I'm already a fan.

A lesson in production

Chelsea Girl. Five Stars.

In 1967, Nico was no longer with the Velvet Underground. She'd moved on, interestingly enough, to being a sort of folk chanteuse in New York City coffeehouses. Her act was solo, backed by a variety of guitarists, among them both Tim Hardin and Jackson Browne, both of whom donated songs to her.

With a roster of songs, only one of which did she help write, Nico set up to make this, her first record album. However, her producer, Tom Wilson, tampered with the recordings, overdubbing flute and strings without her consent. (Actually, he'd done a similar thing to Simon and Garfunkel, overdubbing electric instruments onto The Sounds of Silence and releasing it as a single without bothering to get their permission)

I don't think Nico herself liked this record.

Jackson Browne had a hand in writing The Fairest of the Seasons. It is quite nice, but Nico's voice is a slap in the face. You'll either get used to it or bail out. She was tone deaf and emotionally stilted, but if you let go of that, there is an extraordinary beauty hidden beneath. Musically it's very much chamber pop, lots of strings and an elegant, stately melody.

These Days is a straight pop song from Browne's pen. If you're still here after The Fairest, this one is easier to get into and Chelsea Girls is probably your cup of tea. It's got a sad, beautiful lyric. She was lucky to get such excellent material.

Little Sister is a Cale/Reed offering with a hypnotic, drawn out and gently haggard quality. It flows over you and into the distance.

Winter Song is somewhat fiercer. John Cale's imagistic lyric is a bit of a mouthful at times and makes no real sense.

It Was a Pleasure Then feels like a Velvet Underground outtake. She cowrote it with Reed/Cale (the latter provides his memorable demon-possessed feedback). A morose, eight minute epic of avant-gardeness. The wordless chanting comes right from the ancient world and Nico and the band sound like they're jamming full across the room. It's the most difficult cut; also the eeriest.

Side two comes up with Chelsea Girls (Sterling Morrison was on board for this one). Flute pretty much defines this one. It is very repetitive, problematic at seven minutes. Lyrically, the most Velvet of the whole set. It's snapshots of denizens in the Chelsea Hotel, for God's sake. The mood of urbane decay fits perfectly onto the rest of the album.

I'll Keep It With Mine is a Bob Dylan song. He never got around to releasing his own version, but Judy Collins had sung it, and later on Sandy Denny with Fairport Convention wound up with it. It's extraordinarily upbeat for Nico, and she does sing it with sincerity. I did say she was emotionally stilted, yet a strange degree still gets through that incredibly flawed German voice.

Somewhere There's a Feather is Browne's work and another lovely, good sentiment. With Dylan it forms a nice couplet of sunshine and hope on what is quite an ominous album.

Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams, a Lou Reed song, starts spiralling back into darkness. Highly poetic and very appropriate.

Finally, there is Tim Hardin's Eulogy to Lenny Bruce. Lenny was a stand-up comic who make obscenity his trademark. He died via drugs. Nico sings dispassionately in one ear while a guitar plays a waltzing tune quietly in the other. The starkest moment, and a strong finale to an album whose atmosphere is simply astonishing. Even with that damn flute.

I personally do not mind it, or her voice. And I think the cover art ought to be on a list of 100 Greatest Album Covers. She looks like a dark Joni Mitchell and it perfectly encapsulates the sound of the record.

Oh no! It's another long review!

Neil Young. Five Stars.

Just a few months after Buffalo Springfield's demise (the band had died from ego: a rather common rock malady) Neil Young came out with his self-named solo debut. Because of comflicting information, I haven't been able to figure out whether it came out in late '68 or early '69. However, the record didn't go anywhere either way, and he changed tactics on the followup. As part of my continuous feud with AllMusic I noted that they don't think it necessary to hear this one. My expectations were quite low, but I found it surprisingly enjoyable.

It starts off with The Emperor of Wyoming, which I love for its sheer ridiculousness. You're alone on the world stage for the first time, and you're going to introduce yourself with a rosy instrumental? Seriously, it's one of the sunniest tunes I've heard from Neil, driven by acoustic guitar and some pleasantly wistful strings.

The Loner is a crunchy rock song, the hit on an album of non-hits. The lyric has some nice turns of phrase, though it's entirely straightforward. The musical bridge ties it back into The Emperor of Wyoming, and it is one of the few songs on here that sounds complete.

If I Could Have Her Tonight is two minutes of a lovely melody and Neil singing a heartwrendingly sincere little tune. And it's actually that sincerity that saves the album, turning it into a masterpiece of simple statements.

Crunchy electric guitars make a return on I've Been Waiting For You. Great little guitar solo. I used to be most familiar with it via David Bowie's cover some decades later; however, the sentiment sits far more easily here.

The Old Laughing Lady is a six minute acoustic ballad. It's actually rather ominous, though that might be because I can't make heads or tails of the lyric. It's one of the occasional abstruse works. Musically, it features a set of soul singers rising to crescendo (which is pretty neat) and it was arranged and produced with help from Jack Nitzsche.

Nitzsche actually wrote String Quartet from Whiskey Boot Hill, a positively surreal inclusion. It is exactly what it says. One minute of a string quartet. I love violins, and it makes for a nice intermission.

Also, it leads excellently into Here We Are in the Years. This is a song suite in three minutes, as it features several beautiful melodies that never repeat themselves and it never settles into a chorus. Wonderfully plaintive at points and featuring a nice piano.

What Did You Do To My Life? Well, here's a sad one for you. The production is odd. Very buzzy, and I'm not sure why. Terribly unfinished; it's mostly just a chorus.

I've Loved Her So Long takes up those soul singers again. It's all chorus, but rather more upbeat...in a wistful way.

That ends the thematic album, as the last track is nine minutes of spare, upfront acoustic guitar, with Neil singing a dark, hallucinatory lyric. It's dour and serious as anything, and on my first listen I hated it. "Like Dylan, only bad" I thought. Listening a second time, knowing what to expect, I found it so weird and bizarre a coda that it simply added to what is overall a rather eccentric record. So, if you start out thinking The Last Trip to Tulsa is pretentious rubbish, give it another chance.

The Neil Young album is only a little over half an hour in length. Most tracks are fragments, so they form a cohesive whole and don't really stand well alone. The overall flavour is rather countryish, and of course, it's just been remastered, so everyone's making a fuss over that. I don't know anything about it, so I can't really comment. I'm just endorsing the record, which I find immensely enjoyable. The rest I'll leave to the audiophiles.

The Monday Review

The Implied Neutral Sons. Five Stars.

One year after The Ballad of Ariel Piccolo, Neutral Sons teamed up once more, this CD being the result. Englishman Mark Cottrell took the production helm, designed the artwork and gained solo songwriting credits for the first time. Hence, The Implied has a more cohesive sound than Ariel Piccolo and it is also a more diplomatic work.

Now, a quick word about the title. It's a rather awkward joke, as "The Implied" is quite literal. "The" is written on all the songs as T'

With that explained, it's on to the opening number T'Conference. A loop that sounds a bit like a party played backwards gets it going, then a tinny little riff puts the song into focus. Richard Knutson (the American) handles all the vocals. It's not terribly memorable, but it's high quality. What's it about? Beats me.

It leads into T'Devil's Kiss, a soothing track. This is Cottrell's work. It's one of those "woman let me down" songs, and it's really a nice interlude, resigned but not complaining in tone.

T'Donkee puts the record into trippy waters. Lots of neat turns of phrase make it a solid standout.

T'Face of T'Shine (?????) passes the vocals back to Knutson. It's full of loops, therefore full of ear candy. It's rather woozy, complimenting the black and white cover art.

T'Frequency has fantastic percussion. Oh, it's weird. Only one verse, sung in unsettling duet. Its meaning is too deep for me, but the whole thing has an atmosphere of the sinister and uncanny.

T'Hole continues to work in the bizarre. Knutson does scat vocals to accent the drums while Cottrell sings some kind of gutter gothic over loungy music.

T'Jaaam Doctor (based on a comedy skit) is a nearly spoken exchange. It manages to be morose, disturbing and funny all at once.

Luckily, we get back to music on the more upbeat Side Two. T'Kalmer almost sounds accessable to start, before breaking into a Talking Heads style chorus. The bridge revves up fast, a fantastic, rocking moment. The verses make a nice contrast, being quite wistful.

T'Oken Old Git (stretching the naming joke here) is a complete rock tune. The lyric is hilarious. The whole thing sounds like a pastiche.

T' Old Queen (that's the male sort, I do believe) is a rather sunny track, bouncy and light. Short, and with an excellent coda.

T'Spacebook starts with more runaway zaniness. Ignoring that, it becomes another excellent song. Guitar driven, with Cottrell's backing vocals standing in for percussion. Knutson sings in his "hip" voice about what appears to be internet popularity, though it is somewhat abstruse.

T'Stones is an ancient Knutson song he had lying about. It was dusted off and revitalized for this record, though Cottrell only adds backing vocals. Pure class. (I'll refrain from further comment, due to my own extremely favorable bias)

That being such an interesting, serious song, these guys just had to take the mickey out of themselves with T'Ziki Bint. It's purposefully camp, the lyrics fun and dumb. It's a good-natured closer, and will keep most people from ever taking The Implied Neutral Sons seriously. However, it can grow on you.

That's the album. A well-crafted hour's worth of entertainment. When Ariel Piccolo came out, I was skeptical as to how they'd top it; however, they have done so. The Implied is a far more unified listening experience, thereby making it another step up in this musical partnership. Now I only wonder how they'll ever improve upon it next time.

See you next Monday.

Coming Soon...

I've finally got a publication schedule. A new review every Monday. This upcoming one is as you see. Check back then.