Murphy's Law

 

So, the recent discussion of the Top 50 albums of the last decade was supposed to end, as it began, with a sampling of songs. The introductory entry covered 2000-2004; this one will tackle 2005-2009.

(Incidentally, back in December while wisely avoiding shopping malls and ordering my Xmas gifts from the North Pole also known as amazon.com, I spent entirely too much time on this list. Unbelievably, and idiotically, I also compiled a list of the best jazz albums of the decade as well as the best movies –a list that started at twenty, grew to thirty, and ended at forty. My idea was to roll them all out in the early weeks of the new year, but I was quickly disabused of that fantasy by the rather humbling acknowledgment that the day job, sleep, meals and some semblance of a social life would make that impossible. More on that later, possibly even sooner.)

The list will end (as it began) with a bunch of songs –in no particular order, other than somewhat chronological– that rose above the fray and made life a whole lot more worth living.

Sufjan Stevens, “The World’s Columbian Exposition/Carl Sandburg Visits Me In A Dream” (2005):

Sleater-Kinney, “Everything” (2005):

Tool, “Vicarious” (2006):

Easy Star All-Stars, “The Tourist” (2006):

The Black Keys, “My Mind Is Rambling” (2006):

Iron and Wine, “Pagan Angel and a Borrowed Car” (2007):

Amy Winehouse, “Me and Mr. Jones” (2007):

The Breeders, “Night of Joy” (2008):

Fleet Foxes, “Tiger Mountain Peasant Song” (2008):

Mastodon, “Oblivion” (2009):

Steven Wilson, “Harmony Korine” (2009):

Dan Auerbach, “When The Night Comes” (2009):

40. Cornershop, Handcream For A Generation (2002)

It seemed too good to be true that this band became one of the big stories in 1997 with their breakthrough When I Was Born For The 7th Time. In a way, it was. Whether because of pressure (self-imposed and critical) or lack of sufficient inspiration, it took them over five years to make their next album. With America’s typical attention span, that meant they were not only mostly forgotten, but effectively yesterday’s news. It’s a shame, then, that this atmosphere (partly of their own making) led to the apathetic atmosphere greeting 2002’s brilliant Handcream For A Generation. It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly why this album was (and continues to be) met with such indifference. Certainly, it doesn’t have the sure-fire hit single that “Brimful of Asha” was, but in many ways, the best songs on this album are better than the best songs on the one that preceded it.

In any event, it is one that remains ripe for reeavaluation, and the delights it contains are considerable. Put as simply as possible, anyone who dug When I Was Born For The 7th Time is strongly encouraged to snatch Handcream For A Generation. Cornershop’s inimitable Indian/British rock mash-ups are consistently clever, inventive and always, always cool as shit. This is one of the coolest albums of the new century and, in fact, it may be too cool for its own good. For skeptics or naysayers, how can you possibly go wrong with a record that has a song entitled “Lessons Learned from Rocky I to Rocky III”? This album is intelligent party music that makes you want to dance, laugh, and marvel at how such music is conceived in the first place.

39. Tomahawk, Tomahawk (2001)

Tomahawk is a thinking man’s supergroup. Or a sick man’s. A sick thinking man’s? Whatever. I was wise enough to pounce on the opportunity to see this band (before their eponymous debut was released) at the tiny Black Cat in D.C. in October 2001. Not only was I not disappointed, it was one of the most incendiary live shows I’ve ever witnessed: the sheer musicianship and intensity on the stage was almost devastating. To say Patton had the small crowd eating out of his paws from the first song is no exaggeration. Blown away as I was (keep in mind this concert occurred less than two years after the Fantomas/Mr. Bungle epic ‘99 one-two punch, and only a few months after Fantomas dropped The Director’s Cut) I doubted the band could match the urgency in the studio. I’ve seldom been so pleased to be dead wrong.

Tomahawk is a dark, uncompromising statement, and a masterpiece of sorts. When you have memebers of Jesus Lizard, Melvins and Helmet backing who is almost certainly the most dynamic and influential singer of his generation (Patton is like Johnny Depp before he became kid-friendly), it’s difficult to imagine how superior work would not result.

38. Amadou & Miriam, Dimanche a Bamako (2005)

It’s worthwhile enough when a genuine “feel good” story finds commercial acceptance. A blind, married couple from Mali who have been making music for decades, their breakthrough came a bit out of nowhere in 2005, and it couldn’t have happened to better or more deserving people. And it’s only slightly cynical to suggest that the story greatly added to the album’s initial momentum. But sometimes the right things happen for the right reasons.

Bottom line: Dimanche a Bamako is an ebullient and infectious jewel of an album. Certainly, the contributions (player and producer) of Manu Chao, whose presence is blatant –and beautiful– on the excellent “Taxi Bamako” which is more a chant than a proper song. On other songs, like the truly affecting “Politic Amagni” and the absolutely gorgeous closer “M’Bife Blues”, one need not understand the (French) lyrics to feel everything that is important about this music. The empathy and spiritual richness of these singers infuse every second of this album, making it a celebration on an artistic and human level.

37. Miss Murgatroid & Petra Haden: Hearts and Daggers (2008)

A violin/accordion duo? Really?

Yes, really. This is likely the out and out weirdest selection on this list, but it’s also one of the most wonderful. Petra Haden (daughter of jazz bassist Charlie Haden) already gets props for making the most adventurous and audacious album of the decade, a totally a capella remake of The Who’s The Who Sell Out. Seriously. Obviously, calling this type of music an acquired taste is more than a slight understatement. But if you’re willing to give it a shot, you might be blissfully surprised.

So, Hearts and Daggers, Haden’s second collaboration with Miss Murgatroid (accordionist Alicia Rose) is at once totally out there, but also, refreshingly accessible. Think Beach Boys harmonizing (with female voices) set to slightly surreal classical chamber music. Naturally, there are a whole lot of people who won’t have the ears (or stomach) for this from the get-go, but for more adventurous (and, frankly, experienced) listeners, this is a treasure waiting to be dug up. The music conjures up a dreamlike state that is neither contemporary nor particularly western, yet it could only be made today: the result is highly stylized, utterly uncompromised magic.

36. Vieux Farka Toure, Vieux Farka Toure (2007)

I raved about this young man on a couple of occasions this year, and Fondo, the follow-up to his debut is one of my personal favorite albums of 2009. The fact that I consider his first album even better should speak volumes. When the son of Mali legend Ali Farka Toure introduced himself to the world in 2007, it was very easy to for fans of his father to be skeptical: how good could he possibly be? It only took one listen to understand that the apple had not fallen far from the tree; indeed, the son had very obviously spent a great deal of time honing his craft and learning from the man who named him. And talk about paying dues: because of the decades of dues his father (who is now justly recognized as one of the most important musicians of the second half of the 20th Century) paid, he was reluctant to see his son become a musician. In fact, he forbade it. So not only was there no nepotism in Vieux’s ascension, he had to learn and perfect his craft in secret, and only once his father realized there was no stopping his son (and realized how good he was) did he offer his encouragement.

Listening to this album it’s difficult to suppress expectations: in all seriousness, there is no limit to what Vieux might achieve, considering his age and how advanced his game already is. (He already proved this was not a one-and-done fluke with the brilliance evinced on Fondo.) But enough backstory: Toure’s debut is an almost indescribably buoyant, expansive affair. It is so full of life and so brimming with confidence and enthusiasm it is a small miracle of sorts. Where his father perfected the “desert blues” that was ancient and deep, the son incorporates elements of reggae, folk and rock into his arsenal. Check out “Ana”, below, which should answer any questions and dispel any doubts. And keep in mind: the rest of the album delivers the goods at the same level.

35. Bohren & Der Club of Gore, Black Earth (2004)

Lounge jazz from Hell? Maybe, but in a good way. And darker. The band actually calls what they do “horror jazz” which is just about right. It could almost be a Saturday Night Live skit (think Sprockets) skit: the band is German, there are no vocals, and the titles of the songs include “Midnight Black Earth”, “Constant Fear”, “Destroying Angels” and “The Art of Coffins”. It seems like the biggest joke except for two things: it is so obviously non-commercial (ever heard of this band? I didn’t think so) there is no money in it, and it’s a totally original triumph.

It is dark (real dark), it is slow (real slow) and it’s definitely not daytime music. In other words, it’s perfect! Seriously, this is an album to accompany late night ruminations, or the enjoyment of a solo scotch on the rocks, or an ideal soundtrack for drifting off to sleep. This is not an album that would necessarily be in heavy rotation (unless you are a guy who wears black eyeliner) but it is the ultimate go-to album for certain occasions that only you will know about.

34. Sigur Ros: ( ) (2002)

Popul Vuh meets Bjork, only more so.

Seriously, it is difficult to describe music like this because it too easily invokes cliches and flowery attempts to articulate the impossible. This band has gotten very popular yet they somehow maintain a low profile (perhaps because they are from Iceland, or because they don’t have proper singles, or because most of their songs don’t feature lyrics, or so few people know what they look like). It all works to their advantage. The music is ambitious but manages to steer clear of pretense; it is (mostly) tranquil yet forceful in its own quiet way. At its best it is a genuine expression of pure sound, and the feelings it invokes in the listener are deeply personal, but probably similar. Ask anyone.

33. Wax Poetic, Nublu Sessions (2003)

Yes, this is the one that has Norah Jones on it. And I’m grateful for two reasons. First, even though Jones sings on only two tracks, they are both top-notch. Second, her involvement in this project clearly elevated its commercial appeal and helped more people stumble upon it. Nublu Sessions is a collective that (wisely) features a variety of guest vocalists, all to incredible effect. In addition to Jones, we get N’Dea Davenport, U-Roy and especially Marla Turner, whose vocals are some of the sexiest and most memorable of the decade. Turner’s work on “Della” is an instant classic that invokes Motown filtered through a psychedelic jukebox: it is an ethereal Burt Bacharach song, equal parts Dionne Warwick, Isaac Hayes and Portishead. Nublu Sessions effortlessly meshes jazz, rock and pop, and is everything that great music is capable of being. Do yourself a favor and grab hold of this.

32. Easy Star All-Stars, Radiodread (2006)

Let’s get it out of the way right up front. There will be no Radiohead albums on this list. That’s going to (somewhat understandably) cause problems with some people. But to have a Radiohead album (from the ’90s) recorded by another band in the list? Yes. More, I think Easy Star All-Stars’ uncanny take on OK Computer is better than the original, and better than any other album Radiohead has made. And no, I don’t hate Radiohead; quite the contrary, but I will put myself out there as someone (the only person?) who thinks the hype that has greeted every move they’ve made since OK Computer (which, for my money, was not close to the best album of that decade) is not only over-the-top, but arguably the most egregious instance of contemporary critical group-think: these guys were anointed and can do no wrong, etc. And maybe they can’t and I just don’t get it. That’s quite possible and I’m certainly comfortable with that possibility.

Anyway, full props to Radiohead: if they had not made OK Computer we could never have gotten Radiodread. The Easy Star All-Stars, of course, gained attention and perennial cult status for their magesterial reimagining of Dark Side of the Moon. After successfully interpreting one of the all-time classic albums, it made perfect sense for them to try their hands at what is widely considered the best album in recent times. They didn’t just do it justice, they transcended it. Having guest vocalists tackling each tune with a very authentic reggae backing band that is versatile enough to incorporate the appropriate rock and postmodern elements. For me, there is an emotion, soul and lack of overly mannered anguish that mars the original. But that’s just me. I don’t want to knock Radiohead to elevate Radiodread, I’ll just reserve my right to opine that while the most celebrated band of modern times has made some amazing albums, their best work was recorded by another band.

31. Porcupine Tree, Fear of a Blank Planet (2007)

Speaking of Radiohead, another common encomium laid at their feet is the way in which they carry on the better aspects of the prog-rock tradition, epitomized by Pink Floyd. Fair enough, as far as it goes (though I think it does both bands a bit of a disservice), but for anyone who suspects prog rock is (for better or worse) dead and buried, I offer only two words: Porcupine Tree. Led by the indefatigable Steven Wilson, the band made strides –and accumulated a larger audience– with each successive album, culminating in what is (thus far) their masterpiece, Fear of a Blank Planet.

It’s more than a little ironic that a band who (appropriately) gets props for putting the Prog back in Rock made an album so completely of its time and relevant to contemporary concerns. It is a concept album of sorts, but without the pretense or the shoehorned thematic grasping that makes many people less than sentimental for the bad old days. As the title makes fairly clear, the primary theme linking each song is a willed (and occasionally unintentional) withdrawal: from society, from friends and family, from oneself. This disconnection is alternately abetted by TV, video games and medication, which applies –but is not limited– to a younger demographic. This is very much an adult’s album, especially an adult who can actually recall when albums featuerd ten minute-plus centerpieces. On Fear of a Blank Planet that centerpiece is “Anesthetize”, an absolute tour-de-force of intelligence, emotion and insight. Plus, it features prog-rock god Alex Lifeson (Rush) on guitar. That a band would want to pull of a 17 minute song in the 21st Century is impressive; that a band could do it so convincingly is almost beyond belief. “Anesthetize” is, simply put, one of the towering artistic achievements of the last ten years, and the rest of the songs are effective and memorable in their own fashion. Porcupine Tree has already delivered the goods again (2009’s The Incident) and Steven Wilson dropped his first solo album, Insurgentes earlier this year. There is every likelihood that Wilson and company will contribute more magic in the years ahead, but it’s not unfair to imagine that anything could possibly top Fear of a Blank Planet.

The Easy Star All-Stars, to their credit, do not believe in half-measures. In 2003, they introduced themselves to the world with their reggae reimagining of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon, appropriately rechristened Dub Side of the Moon. The results surpassed even the most open-minded fans’ best expectations. Not content to be a one-and-done novelty act and, no doubt, encouraged by the acclaim their first effort garnered, they returned in 2006. Having already tackled the quintessential ‘70s album, they turned heads, again, when they dropped Radiodread, their version of the near-universally worshipped ‘90s classic OK Computer. Incredibly, this release was even more impressive, expertly finding the ideal balance between respectful homage and brazen departure. Displaying an even greater sense of adventure than they demonstrated on Dub Side, the band went several steps further in reimagining Radiohead’s songs, occasionally even (blasphemy alert!) taking them in directions not attained on the original. It was—and remains—an instant and uncanny archetype, in part because it manages to sound so strikingly different while always feeling oddly familiar.

How could they possibly follow this up? Obviously by setting their sights on the most discussed, dissected, and influential album of all time. Simply stated, the chutzpah factor is officially off the charts with the release of Easy Star’s Lonely Hearts Dub Band. The band is now three-for-three in the sense that, before listening to a single note, they deserve substantial credit for even going there. It is, therefore, more than a little disappointing to report that they have saved their sophomore slump for the third album. ESLHDB is not a failure so much as a mediocrity; it’s less a failure of execution than a failure of imagination. How, it seems fair to ask after their previous, almost impeccable track record, could this possibly be? Perhaps they (finally?) bit off more than they could collectively chew, or maybe they have run out of creative steam (temporarily?) this time out. The results would seem to suggest that the band was ultimately reluctant to tinker too much with an album that is so important to so many people. Of course, this timidity tends to obviate the refreshing audacity that made their previous efforts so rewarding.

Obviously, there is a subjective line separating inspiration from appropriation, and while the Easy Star All-Stars need not worry about clueless critics impugning their integrity, this one still feels dialed in. A healthy irreverence is what makes their concept work, and too much of the time, that is what ESLHDB lacks.  Perhaps the clearest, and fairest, way to highlight what is missing here is to consider what worked so wonderfully before. It’s not difficult to recall the ingenious ways they mixed up Dub Side while remaining remarkably true to the letter and spirit of the original. For instance, the coughs and sputtered inhalations alongside the bubbling bong water that replace the cash register at the beginning of “Money”, or the free-form reggae rap substituting for David Gilmour’s immortal (and inimitable) guitar solo in “Time”. Or, later, on Radiodread, the melodica on “Subterranean Homesick Alien” or the brass replacing the guitars on “Paranoid Android”. Then there is the total reworking of “Let Down”, which remains a revelation: not just a left-field, upbeat redirection, but a thorough rethinking, obviously enhanced by Toots Hibbert’s irrepressible vocals. Nothing on ESLHDB is as arresting, or interesting, as the work they did on the first two albums. And that observation is not meant to imply that the random employment of oddball effects or disorienting tactics would necessarily invigorate the results. But by not putting their peculiar imprint on this material they constantly remind the listener of all the ways it fails by comparison with the original.

The opening song sets the tone in a way that is emblematic of the entire album: Junior Jazz sounds fine singing those oh-so familiar words, and the song is a perfectly adequate cover. Therein lies the rub (a dub): that it is merely adequate is at once the best and worst thing that can be said of this effort. The next two songs are pretty much pedestrian reggae remakes: neither offensive nor particularly memorable. Of course, one alternate perspective might propose that there were so many unusual and previously unheard-of sounds on Sgt. Pepper that the more straightforward arrangements represent a kind of ironic alternative. If so, mission accomplished, but that faint praise only underscores the perplexing lack of vision throughout.

Some of the songs are more successful. Max Romeo’s trippy take on “Fixing a Hole” recalls the oddball energy of the previous Easy Star albums: the extended dub outro hits the mark while leaving a mark. “She’s Leaving Home”, featuring Kristy Rock (who did such a stellar rendering of “Paranoid Android”), recalls Radiodread’s “Let Down” in the way it takes a somber song and turns it into a rocksteady romp. This strategy does tend to undermine the original song’s lyrical import, but at least the band is stretching out a bit. It seems a shame that Lee “Scratch” Perry was not spirited into the studio to tackle “Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite”—a song that screams out for his outlandish skills (indeed, he was spearheading his own primitive studio innovations at and around the same time George Martin and the boys began breaking the mold at Abbey Road).

The rest? More of the same, mostly. “Within You Without You” is another unremarkable rendition, although Matisyahu’s lugubrious vocals and subdued human beat-boxing are appropriate for the occasion. It is difficult to quibble with Sugar Minott’s ebullient reading of “When I’m Sixty-Four”, and it’s fair to suspect that some of this material might be conveyed more effectively in a live setting where it has room to breathe. Both “Lovely Rita” (featuring U-Roy) and “Good Morning, Good Morning” (featuring Steel Pulse) would seem to provide ample opportunity for interesting departures, but they are uninspired on arrival. Finally, the moment of truth: what will (can?) they do with “A Day in the Life”?  Nothing special, alas. Certainly, it’s a neat moment when we hear the lines “dragged my fingers through my dreads” (in place of “dragged a comb across my head”) but … we need more.

Ultimately, this seems like an extraordinary opportunity missed. Not wasted, necessarily, but in a way, that’s worse, isn’t it? It’s better to shoot for the (dark side of the) moon and fall short than to play it too safe by half and end up with something second-rate. In the end, no matter how iconic its intentions, this release must be assessed for what it is: an underwhelming set of cover tunes that comes entirely too close to sounding like a novelty act—the very fate this band managed to avoid the first two times out.

http://www.popmatters.com/pm/review/72221-easy-star-all-stars-easy-stars-lonely-hearts-dub-band/