[Author's Note: This is the obsessive's breakdown of May 28, 1977. For everyone else, the more concise and polished review is published below.]
Grateful Dead
To Terrapin: Hartford '77
5/28/77
SET ONE
Bertha. Starts with a little less wild exuberance than in the early 70s, probably my favorite overall period for the song. Jerry's singing is likewise a little more low-key, but nonetheless expressive. The Godchauxs are doing a fine job: Donna's harmonies add some lovely color, and Keith's rather rhythmic fills, while hardly virtuosic, complement the easygoing '77 vibe. Jerry's solo is, again, considerably less frenzied than it would have been only a few years earlier, but it's both lyrical and precise. It's Keith in the background, actually, who really pushes the ROCK out of the song in the latter stages of the instrumental, and it's a welcome development. (He actually was still playing quite well in the spring of '77; that would change somewhat in the fall.) It's really quite a fine version by the end. >
Good Lovin'. Usual key maneuvering to get to the C riff. (Gotta love the '77 rhythm section; Mickey and Bill were such a part of that beautiful feel.) (MIX: Very nice, crisp with good instrument separation, but I wouldn't be complaining if Phil were even higher—there's no such thing as too much Phil.) This version is great not only in execution but VIBE, and I think that's a huge part of the '77 appeal (which I totally get, even though I might prefer the pre-hiatus years). Bobby's vocal freak-out at the end nicely underscored by some bass thumps. They draw out that last C chord for all it's worth until Jerry announces >
Sugaree. Here we go. Very little is better than a May '77 Sugaree. First instrumental: Jerry starts those slow, spiraling notes, those glistening strands of dewy melodic invention, and everyone else bears out the counterpoint so beautifully. This is perhaps one of the greatest representations of what this band could create with only two chords. I dare you not to be moved. The feeling that drips from every line here and lots of Sugarees from this era is really just one of the best things they ever tapped into. Builds in momentum, through double-time notes and chord riffing and Phil ascents... but this is really music beyond words. Bobby's brighter guitar color meshes with Jerry's darker, fluid one so perfectly. Second instrumental: Keith starts us off. Just graceful triplet patterns, as lilting as can be. (His sense of inversions/part writing is excellent, for those of you who pay attention to that kind of thing.) His arpeggiations fuse seamlessly with Jerry's. Just once, for a brief period, neither Keith nor Jerry seizes the inventive line, and it flags slightly, but Jerry revives it quickly, building the second instrumental to its shredding peak (this isn't dark shredding, by the way—it's just an expression of incredible sentiment). Jerry gives it all to the singing, too, and his voice is perhaps my favorite, if I may make a subjective choice. Third instrumental: very placid opening after storm of past two instrumentals. Jerry explores a lot of his lower register at first; the effect is suitably mournful, and when he moves up higher, it's like crying. This might be the most rhythmically varied of the three instrumental segments, though it never rises to the auspiciously BIG peaks of the other jams (its intensity is in its focus and restraint). In the last verse/chorus of the song, it becomes apparent again just how expressive Jerry's voice is—he's really acting the song. Thus ends a HELL of a half-hour opening segment. Wow.
(Best-ever Sugaree? Irrelevant. There are some others from the surrounding weeks that I like as much or more, but that's just a matter of personal preference.)
Jack Straw. Ah... another typically beautiful May '77 artifact. Again, much more placid than the versions before retirement, which I tend to prefer, but there's no denying the easygoing, gently dancing merits of these '77 specimens. Jerry's guitar playing is just so good, even if the instrumentals don't get as intensely jammed out. Every phrase seems to say something. Jerry's vocal lines aren't given nearly enough feeling, which is a drawback. The second instrumental is given a much lengthier treatment, gradually stretching out to the howling beast it would become in '78 (this one's still tamer, but still has a beauty and a strength). I prefer 5/8 or 5/25 from this month, but this one's lovely nonetheless.
Row Jimmy. Keith on early-'77 organ-thing, which has a weak sound. It's a drawback, given what his contributions were on, say, a Fender Rhodes in '74. As beautiful as this song is, it doesn't do enough to captivate with every listen, though there are some really remarkable versions out there. I'm not feeling this one. It's also possible the '77 tempos are starting to drag to these ears. Maybe this one will open up to me more on subsequent hearings, but right now 5/8 and 5/21 are my favorite Jimmys of the month.
Minglewood. This song could have some definite kick to it during this period (actually, fuck what most people say—I can think of a lot of, say, mid-80s versions with lots of kick too—dig October '83!). But this is a crisp version that's rounded out by Phil thumps and there's no slide guitar that would tend to dominate starting '78. I wish Keith were higher on the mix here (he tends to get buried in rockers this year)—he takes a solo, but it's more rhythmic playing that the melodic invention he would have put into it in '76. Jerry's playing is typically excellent, but it's not going to blow your mind if you're a Deadhead with a steady intake of Minglewoods (which I am). Bobby's playing actually fans the drama pretty significantly at the end of the last instrumental.
Candyman. Keith back on organ for another Jerry ballad. Bobby throws in some nice shimmering fills when needed. Three-part harmonies in chorus nicely executed. It's fascinating how in-transition Jerry's voice sounds in '77—he's a few years past his youthful singing, and the next few years would really scratch his voice up into its famous latter-day tone. Here he's in a nether-zone, singing with less exuberance, an older sensitivity. His wah-wah solo is a thing of delicate beauty, and a good example of the group (the support) backing Jerry (the focus) in '77, rather than the more collective jamming of '73-'74.
Passenger. Quintessential late '70s howler, and always a good place to hear some Phil thumps, not to mention Keith's funkier contributions (which sound a bit like squelching bugs, and it's awesome) or the thrill of some of Jerry's slide lines. Donna really growls (not howls!) on "raging beast." A fine version, but nothing unusual. Forgive the relentless comparisons, but in May '77 it's got to be done: I prefer 5/19.
Brown-Eyed. Another one I definitely look forward to this month. Keith back on piano distinguishes himself neatly paralleling Jerry's vocal lines. Donna's harmonies are much better than Phil's were, let it be said. WHOA! Jerry's first solo really gets off to a surprising and thrilling start! You'll just have to hear it. Damn... this is a version that lives up to some very high expectations! Keith is really playing about as well as he ever did this year, too, and that's still quite good. In comparison to early versions, "tumbledown shack" bridge doesn't get a lot of punch, but the solo gets SO MUCH that it would be a petty complaint. The remainder of the song is just typically great, but this has already been pushed into first-class territory. Up there with 5/8 and /9.
Promised Land. This rocker is bursting with typical '77 fatness (pre-retirement Chuck Berry numbers were handled differently). Keith's solo is very nice, if rhythmically even, but that's consistent with the general tendencies here. Jerry doesn't handle the harmonies on the last verse as well as I might wish, but they leave a good space of time after to rock out—and they do. Highly enjoyable way to end a set.
Set One Summary: Total time 76:37. The opening sequence is phenomenal, and the Sugaree is the rival of any, worthy of every bit of praise that's been heaped on it. The rest of the set, apart from a gem of a BEW, is comparatively lackluster, which is to say it's well-played to a fault but low on energy. I'd take most first sets from April through June '77 over this one, but it's still a 7.5 or so.
SET TWO
Samson. This is definitely a song that was frequently stellar this tour. Introduction sounds very fine, with Keith making his presence known. (The official releases tend to be mixed in his favor more than the bootlegs.) He continues to distinguish himself with inventive harmonies backing Bobby. Jerry begins his solo on something of a weak beat, but his playing is more than up to upping the ante as he goes. His punctuation to Bobby's vocal ferocity is also noteworthy, though Keith is the best instrumentalist throughout the verses. Jerry's second solo is even stronger, a barnstormer—some really inventive lines really shake off all expectations. An excellent Samson worthy even of its formidable '77 peers.
Tennessee Jed. This tune I generally think lost a lot of sparkle in its transformation to '77 rhythmic evenness. The wash of drums, slower plodding tempo, and relative tameness of Keith's playing doesn't do it any favors. Sure enough, there's not a lot here to distinguish it from countless other Jeds. (Verses will pass and just not spark that much comment, honestly.) Keith starts picking up some spark just in time for the closing instrumental. Bobby and Phil's complementing Jerry is very interesting to listen to here, but Keith and even Jerry are just too rhythmically even to stand out consistently. A pity, because it climaxes very nicely. Still, nothing like a really good pre-retirement or even '76 Jed.
Estimated. Ah! That glorious bass thud, the wah-wah... could a Deadhead not love the introduction to Estimated? Not quite as crisp as some—this is a gooier beast, for better or worse. It shows its infancy at a few moments—namely, there just aren't enough fills in the right places, and the vocal harmonies aren't always 100% sharp. Jerry, however, is clearly practiced with the song and nails the often difficult bridge into the G maj. jam, which itself is FAR shorter than it would become or than one would like. But we get a good length of time to move out of Estimated, at least. The jam out is largely dominated by Jerry—it's not as rich as versions to come where Brent would help push that envelope. Jerry's also playing with fewer accidentals than he would work in over the next few years, so this take remains rooted to the bass framework more than some. The last couple minutes break from any symptoms of blandness. Bobby's really adding a lot of nice melodic counterpoint, and Keith's at least a big part of the funky texture. Phil's holding down the basic pattern more than anything else, which is probably important in a song as slippery as this. >
Playing. Keith's synth-organ tone is a little unusual to these ears. Bobby and Donna blend well, and Jerry's playing is very crisp. The opening is just as jubilant as one would want to the ending reprise coming out of the darkest jam to be. Playing still takes the immediate drop into D minor for the jam that was so striking of earlier versions and would be forestalled in the years to come. Indeed, multilayered rhythmic characteristics aside, this Playing hasn't entirely lost its pre-retirement vibe. It is, of course, much less Keith-driven (though he's toying with some really interesting and bizarre electronic textures). This version has a lot of really excellent jamming, however—it's likely about as good as Playing got in '77, which is still a decently high standard, even if we're not talking '72-'74. For the electronic weirdness, this is actually one of the strangest versions I've heard (though the freak-outs like 12/2/73 or 5/21/74 are another matter entirely). This last few minutes occasionally leave the Dorian mode for increased dissonance. Likely the Dead know they're not doing a standalone version. >
Terrapin. Very smooth and interesting transition. This is the second release named after a Terrapin as the centerpiece of the second set. 3/15/90 Terrapin is wonderful, so we'll see if this one lives up to that precedent. This song works so well in the year of its debut because it fits this incarnation of the band so impeccably: the way Keith and Phil and Bobby frame the verses show they're really paying attention and enjoying their latest and perhaps most idiosyncratic extended composition. (In that respect, one can see why it was this song Phish dug up to pay homage to Jerry in August '98.) Lady With A Fan altogether is executed PERFECTLY, really everything one could ask for. Let's see how Part II goes off.... Keith plays some really sparkling arpeggios in the transition (he's really wonderful throughout this track). Beautiful dive into "Inspiration!" (Move me brightly...!) I just have to turn up the volume here... this is so beautiful. This is one of the best Terrapins I've heard, without a doubt (I see where they got the title now). There's a flub or two, but they just keep on, and it's wondrous. I'm going to go out on a limb and say Keith is playing this song just about as well as his successor ever did (and in his own idiomatic Keith style). Phil's all over this, too. Everyone is. This is just glorious... I can't use enough superlatives. They dive back into the Playing jam, rather thrillingly, too, giving us a beautiful thirty seconds of that before >
Drums. They strike up the NFA rhythm from the beginning of the duet. You can even hear some faint E-chord explorations off in guitar-land. (These weren't the days of leaving the stage.) >
NFA. This song could rock as noisily as anything the Dead ever played in '77, especially in the fall. I really like the days before NFA was confined to a set-closing role. The band provides considerable buildup to the considerable song for minutes on end before the vocals, consistent for the year. Vocals at 4:30. They really keep jamming at a very even level of intensity here, neither playing for dynamic, melodic, or rhythmic variations or fanning the heat as much as they would by the fall. After the second vocals, Keith plays some very cool upper-register lines over the chord changes. Jerry's doubled-octave sound is a staple of this era, and always a pleasure to hear. There's nothing radical about this NFA, but it's consistently enjoyable and engaging. Phil's bass is perhaps the most inventive component. The even E jam starts fade away in the last five minutes of the track, moving into freer explorations on the same mode (in terms of departure from a template, the most spontaneous jamming of the night). Turns toward A major in an even more spontaneous jam in the last two and a half minutes, proving the Dead still had the flexibility to pull this off in '77, if not as often as before. Its key and texture say Dark Star to me, but as we all know it's the slow approach of a Wharf Rat. (GDM could have called all that "Hartford Jam" if they'd wanted—it would have merited the title.) >
Wharf Rat. A lot of attention seems to be given to the basic sound in this version. The vocals and the way they blend are great. The instrumental placements are precise, restrained, and effective. A very pretty Wharf Rat. The jam out takes on a powerful edge by Jerry from the beginning, and Keith's chords play to a lot of effect here. Bobby's shimmering A and G chords occasionally call to mind the Cryptical end-jam. I'm sticking with the Pretty and Formally Perfect assessment here—it doesn't have quite enough whoop-ass in the right spots to match the absolute best Wharf Rats. >
Playing. Sudden drop back into D minor, at first with a slightly skewed rhythm which resembles something from Let It Grow, which was currently on sabbatical until the fall, so that's not a choice. The jamming remains cemented to The Main Ten, albeit in a very pleasant way, but it's a conclusion track, not an extension of the earlier Playing jam followed by a conclusion, a la an earlier Playing sandwich. Keith's synth sounds a little out-of-place here and at other times. We welcome the piano back with great pleasure... and the immediate return of the synth with increased displeasure! The full piano sound would make for such a more majestic conclusion, though everyone else is certainly throwing that kind of weight around, and we're getting majesty anyway. Jerry, unusually, quotes Main Ten a few times and the opening riff only once before the song closes. Virtually a segue into:
OMSN. The really fat sound serves this rock-'n'-roller in C fairly well, as it did the other rock-'n'-roller in C at the close of the other set. Other than that, things are fairly standard, in the best possible '70s way.
(Encore.) U.S. Blues. Jerry's voice is considerably weaker here than it was three years earlier when the song debuted. Less Keith and a heavier rhythm section don't play to the song's advantage either, in my book. For contemporary versions, the 6/9/77 is a step above this, too, but the instrumental break here does have some balls. Jerry brings his voice up a little more for the critical "You can call this song the United States blues!" The coda has got some fire behind it as well. Altogether better than good, but not excellent.
Set Two/Encore Summary: Total time 95:31. Better than set one! The main sequence of music, the Estimated > Playing sandwich, is exemplary: everything is well-played, the Estimated, Playing, and NFA have enough jam in them to keep things from being a recital, and the TERRAPIN is just exactly perfect, about as epic as anything the Grateful Dead ever played. This is a good set for non-Deadheads, and on par with the other classic sets of April through June. 8.5
Total time 172:08.
Overall: Deadheads like shows from 1977 (especially May). GDM likes releasing shows from 1977 (especially May). As such, any one show or release is subject to ruthless competition and held to Herculean standards. How well "To Terrapin" acquits itself is likely a matter of personal tastes. For me, it's not quite the apex. I would take Dick's Picks 29, 5/8, 5/25, and the June Winterland run over 5/28, but that's a trifling distinction. If you call yourself a Deadhead and you haven't heard this show, you need to—you'll be glad you did. If you're a casual fan, this is a great place to start exploring 1977, especially given that "To Terrapin" is being widely released. B+.
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
2009/04/21
Grateful Dead, To Terrapin
[Author's Note: The following review will be published in Friday's edition of the Wooster Voice.]
The Grateful Dead's newest archival release, “To Terrapin: Hartford '77,” is pitted against some intimidating competition. This May 28, 1977, concert was the last from a month that many Deadheads consider the best ever, and while plenty others (this one included) would beg to differ, there's no denying that the band was delivering exceptional, career-defining performances nearly every night of the tour.
This means two things for “To Terrapin”: one, it's marvelous by default; and two, it will forever be subject to ruthless comparisons to its May '77 predecessors.
How does May 28 acquit itself on the latter score? Moderately well. It would certainly be hard to think of a better opening sequence. After rocking through a typical pairing of “Bertha” and “Good Lovin',” both of which boast a polished, sparkling sound, lead guitarist Jerry Garcia seamlessly steers the band into the ballad “Sugaree.”
With its lyrical treatment of love, loss, and regret, and its roots deep in the American folk tradition, “Sugaree” is signature Grateful Dead—and everything about this version falls into place beautifully. The song proper, especially in Garcia's aching vocal lines, is executed with a profound expressiveness, but the three instrumental breaks between verses are where “Sugaree” reaches its most transcendent peaks. Here, in endless but purposeful melodic invention over two chords, the band conjures up a love story more vivid, dynamic, and intense than could ever be put into words, mining every corner of the song for its emotional truth. I dare you not to be moved. The track total runs nineteen minutes, and not one is wasted. Even in a month studded with epic takes, this “Sugaree” is the rival of any.
After “Sugaree,” however, the first set loses considerable momentum. The rhythmic evenness of 1977 Dead begins to drag, and while Garcia takes a truly arresting solo in “Brown-Eyed Women,” backed by some adroit fills from pianist Keith Godchaux, the latter half of the set still feels somewhat underwhelming.
But this band is nothing if not able to bounce back, and they bounce back with a vengeance after intermission. The thick, dark reggae of “Estimated Prophet,” which opens a seventy-minute thread of uninterrupted music, is warped into a fiery, chromatic jam led by Garcia. They then take a jubilant stroll through “Playing in the Band” before that song dissolves like a momentary illusion into fretful, modal jazz spiked with bizarre electronic textures.
The second really exemplary moment of the show comes in the form of “Terrapin Station,” their latest and most idiosyncratic extended composition (and the namesake for this release). The lilting, ambiguous first section is executed perfectly, and not just by Garcia, but by the entire band, all of whom frame the verses with clarity and grace. The triumphant second part of the suite, however, is breathtaking. When Garcia sings, “Inspiration! move me brightly,” you can hear him basking in it. The song doesn't let up from there, but rather charges through its majestic, radiant conclusion.
It's hard to find fault with much of “To Terrapin.” All of the songs are fundamentally played well, and “Sugaree” and “Terrapin Station” are maddeningly good. But in the company of its May contemporaries, the 28th was perhaps only an average night, marred by lackluster passages in the first set. “To Terrapin” is therefore highly recommended, but even greater shows, both bootlegs and official releases, await those interested in exploring the era more thoroughly.
The Grateful Dead's newest archival release, “To Terrapin: Hartford '77,” is pitted against some intimidating competition. This May 28, 1977, concert was the last from a month that many Deadheads consider the best ever, and while plenty others (this one included) would beg to differ, there's no denying that the band was delivering exceptional, career-defining performances nearly every night of the tour.
This means two things for “To Terrapin”: one, it's marvelous by default; and two, it will forever be subject to ruthless comparisons to its May '77 predecessors.
How does May 28 acquit itself on the latter score? Moderately well. It would certainly be hard to think of a better opening sequence. After rocking through a typical pairing of “Bertha” and “Good Lovin',” both of which boast a polished, sparkling sound, lead guitarist Jerry Garcia seamlessly steers the band into the ballad “Sugaree.”
With its lyrical treatment of love, loss, and regret, and its roots deep in the American folk tradition, “Sugaree” is signature Grateful Dead—and everything about this version falls into place beautifully. The song proper, especially in Garcia's aching vocal lines, is executed with a profound expressiveness, but the three instrumental breaks between verses are where “Sugaree” reaches its most transcendent peaks. Here, in endless but purposeful melodic invention over two chords, the band conjures up a love story more vivid, dynamic, and intense than could ever be put into words, mining every corner of the song for its emotional truth. I dare you not to be moved. The track total runs nineteen minutes, and not one is wasted. Even in a month studded with epic takes, this “Sugaree” is the rival of any.
After “Sugaree,” however, the first set loses considerable momentum. The rhythmic evenness of 1977 Dead begins to drag, and while Garcia takes a truly arresting solo in “Brown-Eyed Women,” backed by some adroit fills from pianist Keith Godchaux, the latter half of the set still feels somewhat underwhelming.
But this band is nothing if not able to bounce back, and they bounce back with a vengeance after intermission. The thick, dark reggae of “Estimated Prophet,” which opens a seventy-minute thread of uninterrupted music, is warped into a fiery, chromatic jam led by Garcia. They then take a jubilant stroll through “Playing in the Band” before that song dissolves like a momentary illusion into fretful, modal jazz spiked with bizarre electronic textures.
The second really exemplary moment of the show comes in the form of “Terrapin Station,” their latest and most idiosyncratic extended composition (and the namesake for this release). The lilting, ambiguous first section is executed perfectly, and not just by Garcia, but by the entire band, all of whom frame the verses with clarity and grace. The triumphant second part of the suite, however, is breathtaking. When Garcia sings, “Inspiration! move me brightly,” you can hear him basking in it. The song doesn't let up from there, but rather charges through its majestic, radiant conclusion.
It's hard to find fault with much of “To Terrapin.” All of the songs are fundamentally played well, and “Sugaree” and “Terrapin Station” are maddeningly good. But in the company of its May contemporaries, the 28th was perhaps only an average night, marred by lackluster passages in the first set. “To Terrapin” is therefore highly recommended, but even greater shows, both bootlegs and official releases, await those interested in exploring the era more thoroughly.
2009/02/10
Susan Wallin & Peter Mowrey, "An Evening of American Art Song"
[Author's Note: This review of a faculty recital from Friday will definitely be appearing in this week's Voice. I'm decently pleased with both the way this one turned out and the ease with which I wrote it—I think I'm developing something of the habit behind journalism.]
“An Evening of American Art Song,” presented in Scheide Music Center February 6 by soprano Susan Wallin and accompanist Peter Mowrey, was an evening of rare musical delights, beginning and ending with a voice one would be privileged to hear anywhere, be it Gault Recital Hall or Carnegie Hall. Wallin is fundamentally an extraordinary singer and performer, armed with a beautiful coloratura, impressive range, and dramatic sensitivity—all of which were on full display throughout the rich and varied program.
The recital began with a series of songs by the late-Romantic composer Amy Beach, whose lush, melodic style recalls Puccini or Bizet. Wallin showed a deft attention to both the passionate and the reflective, and the conviction behind her performance more than carried the most traditional set of the night.
She moved into more interesting and surprising musical territory with five contemporary songs by Ricky Ian Gordon in an art-Broadway vein reminiscent of Leonard Bernstein. Gordon's “Coyote” was perhaps the highlight of the entire evening. Wallin threw herself in to the bizarre lyrics with a finessed blend of comedy and pathos—when she proclaimed, “I'll scream until I turn that moon to wax,” you believed it.
She also proved herself superbly attuned to Americanness of Gordon's songs, subtly adapting her tone to suit their unique contours and cadences, whether in the melancholy humming of “Once I Was” or the frenzied ascent of “Poem (Lana Turner Has Collapsed).”
The second half of the program dived into delightfully murky twentieth-century waters with Norman Dello Joio's “Three Songs of Adieu.” Imbued with a dark urgency and extending to the edge of tonality, these offered Wallin ample opportunity to explore their contrasts—really hitting words like “pain,” or fading into an impressive softness at the end of “Farewell.”
Following these was Laurie Altman's jazz-like “reimagining” of eighteenth-century Italian songs. Here, Wallin's voice occasionally fell into a breathier timbre in her only significant misstep of the recital, but the thoughtful attention she lent the syncopations spotlighted the hybrid nature of the work and distinguished her interpretation.
The jazzier songs were proof of Peter Mowrey's exceptional contributions as well. From one composer to the next, he managed each stylistic set distinctly, and while his unshakeable facility at the piano hinted at his own abilities as a soloist, he remained a sensitive accompanist who aptly complemented, but never overpowered, the vocal performance.
The last song of the evening took a sharp turn into light opera (itself a Wooster legacy), specifically Victor Herbert's send-up of the operatic diva, “Art Is Calling for Me,” arranged by Wallin herself. With intermittent quotations from a number of famous operas, among them La Bohème and The Magic Flute, Wallin alluded to her own vast repertoire, and, though she nailed the high Fs from the famous Queen of the Night aria, she proved unafraid to occasionally tweak her ability level to suit the comedy—providing a fitting and lighthearted capstone to a recital of unflagging quality.
“An Evening of American Art Song,” presented in Scheide Music Center February 6 by soprano Susan Wallin and accompanist Peter Mowrey, was an evening of rare musical delights, beginning and ending with a voice one would be privileged to hear anywhere, be it Gault Recital Hall or Carnegie Hall. Wallin is fundamentally an extraordinary singer and performer, armed with a beautiful coloratura, impressive range, and dramatic sensitivity—all of which were on full display throughout the rich and varied program.
The recital began with a series of songs by the late-Romantic composer Amy Beach, whose lush, melodic style recalls Puccini or Bizet. Wallin showed a deft attention to both the passionate and the reflective, and the conviction behind her performance more than carried the most traditional set of the night.
She moved into more interesting and surprising musical territory with five contemporary songs by Ricky Ian Gordon in an art-Broadway vein reminiscent of Leonard Bernstein. Gordon's “Coyote” was perhaps the highlight of the entire evening. Wallin threw herself in to the bizarre lyrics with a finessed blend of comedy and pathos—when she proclaimed, “I'll scream until I turn that moon to wax,” you believed it.
She also proved herself superbly attuned to Americanness of Gordon's songs, subtly adapting her tone to suit their unique contours and cadences, whether in the melancholy humming of “Once I Was” or the frenzied ascent of “Poem (Lana Turner Has Collapsed).”
The second half of the program dived into delightfully murky twentieth-century waters with Norman Dello Joio's “Three Songs of Adieu.” Imbued with a dark urgency and extending to the edge of tonality, these offered Wallin ample opportunity to explore their contrasts—really hitting words like “pain,” or fading into an impressive softness at the end of “Farewell.”
Following these was Laurie Altman's jazz-like “reimagining” of eighteenth-century Italian songs. Here, Wallin's voice occasionally fell into a breathier timbre in her only significant misstep of the recital, but the thoughtful attention she lent the syncopations spotlighted the hybrid nature of the work and distinguished her interpretation.
The jazzier songs were proof of Peter Mowrey's exceptional contributions as well. From one composer to the next, he managed each stylistic set distinctly, and while his unshakeable facility at the piano hinted at his own abilities as a soloist, he remained a sensitive accompanist who aptly complemented, but never overpowered, the vocal performance.
The last song of the evening took a sharp turn into light opera (itself a Wooster legacy), specifically Victor Herbert's send-up of the operatic diva, “Art Is Calling for Me,” arranged by Wallin herself. With intermittent quotations from a number of famous operas, among them La Bohème and The Magic Flute, Wallin alluded to her own vast repertoire, and, though she nailed the high Fs from the famous Queen of the Night aria, she proved unafraid to occasionally tweak her ability level to suit the comedy—providing a fitting and lighthearted capstone to a recital of unflagging quality.
2009/02/03
[Grateful Dead, 7/21/90 Tinley Park, IL: NOTES]
[Author's Note: As I have in the past, I'm posting my very detailed, unedited notes for the much more concise review posted below. Anyone really interested in song-by-song analysis of Grateful Dead shows might appreciate this level of scrutiny; for everyone else, let it stand as proof of my obsession.]
Grateful Dead
Tinley Park, IL 7/21/90
SET ONE
Touch. Perhaps because of its close association with the start of a Dead show, maybe because it's status as a bona fide hit—always lends an energetic punch as opener. The harmonies, as usual, fall somewhere behind the overall standard, but Jerry is individually in VERY STRONG voice, Brent's organ is nice and juicy, and Phil really smokes in some interesting bass counterpoint. Jerry's solo isn't too shabby. Some really weird effects during the second bridge! (SOUND QUALITY, by the way, is fantastic—this is a Miller, and it could pass for a Dick's Pick.) No true segue, but following soon is:
GSET. Brent's still suffering from whatever vocal ailment dogged him through July '90, during a month that was exceptional for his keyboard performances. (Hope he's saving up for Just a Little Light.) Bobby, however, is in as strong voice as Jerry, sounding fairly unstrained on a song that often gives him some trouble. Brent's keyboard tumbling kicks serious ass, and the intersection of him and Phil and Bobby and Jerry is right on during the instrumental. Even better than Touch.
Bottom line: Touch and GSET form an extremely well-played and energetic combo. I'm seriously pumped for whatever else this show might hold.
Jack-A-Roe. Starts off with a lot of energy and bounce! Jerry's guitar lines in between lyrics carry a lot of elegant menace. Again, this is about the best 1990 singing you could ask for. What's striking about instrumental action like such here is that is really has all the interweaving attentiveness of the early- to mid- 70's—the drummers' relative rigidity makes a difference, of course, but this is really fine playing from all (Bobby included).
Maybe I need to be more sparing with four-star ratings, because it eliminates a special class for material that's as excellent as this, but just barely shy of five stars.
Walkin' Blues. And into harmonic major. Wonderful swampy tone here, and it sounds like everyone's playing it with attentiveness and not by rote. Jerry and Bobby's skillful framing of Brent's solo is exquisite. I love Bobby's vocal performance in blues songs—idiosyncratic like Dylan's, but moderately convincing.
FOTD. I never tire of hearing this song in this era, for whatever reason. Starts fairly inconspicuously, as if the band isn't entirely sure if it's still prepping itself or if it's already begun in earnest. Every reiteration of the main riff, however, gains confidence. Jerry's voice sounds craggier here, but I think he's adjusting to the song. Almost inversely, the harmonies are stronger. The usual cycle of solos begin: Brent's more upbeat and barroom sounding than those from the early end of his tenure, which I confess to prefer (at least in this song), but however it doesn't perfectly suit the song, his playing is at its most virtuosic; Jerry jumps in with an awesome anticipating into what is, unfortunately, Bobby's solo slot, leaving the latter momentarily unsure of what he should be doing—it is, however, representative of the immense energy everyone's bringing to the show tonight. They've got their A game on. Jerry's solo is spiraling in a way that indicates he's following the tone set by Brent (though I swear he usually goes through two iterations of the solo). Very good altogether, but not 6/16/90, say.
Just A Little Light. Okay, I'm no fan of this compositionally, but it can still bring out a good performance. In the pre-song tuning, everyone adjusts to the right synth-tones. I like the collective timbre, I admit! Thick and funky. Brent's voice acquits itself decently, but it's not up to its usual standards; he sounds more than a little hoarse. And the difficulties in the singing somehow manifest itself in a considerable absence of keyboard work. Jerry's playing well, but the song continues to hobble as if everything's been thrown just a little bit out of sync. The keyboard playing is extremely thin, and the song loses a lot of energy. Brent seems unsure of when and where to come in. Let the man go back to his keyboard and leave his singing out of it tonight. (Uh-oh. We've got a Dear Mr. Fantasy coming up.) Low point of set so far.
Queen Jane. Let's hope this song picks the energy up since it came to a really unfortunate halt in the last song. Brent's still not playing like he was in FOTD, and Phil doesn't seem as prominent as he was in the first half of the set. Jerry is easily the strongest player tonight (which wasn't a given in the later years, of course). Brent's keyboard lines follow fairly basic established patterns for Queen Jane, until about halfway through, when things start to pick up more. Jerry's harmonizing his part well, too. Brent's solo is busy, but hardly inventive, and too fixed on the upper register. He leaves a gaping which Jerry fills with another solo. By the end of the song, everyone's packing some power, and it looks like the Bird Song to round things off, jam-heavy and Jerry-led, might keep this set in very positive terrain.
Bird Song. The tuning gives everyone ample hint as to what's to follow (and likely close the set). They all sound really prepped to kick into it, though. Brent's sometimes dizzying keyboard lines are much more appropriate-sounding here, but occasionally overkill. (This is, by the way, the longest GD Bird Song in my possession.) Jerry and Phil are weaving a very convincing Bird Song from the beginning of the jam, with Brent adding appropriate threats of dissonance, throwing in all possibilities of dangerous twists and turns and dark alleys. Jerry's the main player, but everyone's listening very attentively to him, following him and supporting him and mirroring him and filling in for him and giving him space as necessary. Jerry starts bending notes in all kinds of crazy ways, effecting this spacey kind of sublimity everyone's pushing toward. This is another song I really like to hear in '89-'90—less introspective than the versions of '72-'73 but equally well-played. Reaches some really piercing and resounding highs. From there, the intensity starts to come down for the last five minutes, but that's okay. They're talkin' their way back down—really a beautiful structure for a jam, too. Amazing what you can do modally.
Set one in review: Total time 67:32. Generally very strong. Highlights are Bird Song followed by Touch>Greatest followed by Jack-A-Roe. Everything else very good except for Little Light, which in context is a real downer that takes just about the whole of Queen Jane to recover from (for both band and listener). I'm calling it a 7 on the whole.
SET TWO
Scarlet. Jerry's singing well, and the whole thing is crisp, but Brent's organ is really all that stands out instrumentally during the singing. As usual for July, Brent's harmonies are somewhat weak. Jerry's solo won't take your breath away, but Phil supports him nicely, and you can hear the crowd digging it, even in the soundboard—maybe why the band seem to warm into it as the instrumental goes on. Brent switches to keyboard for the jam, which I appreciate in Scarlet. The jam takes an easygoing course. It's nice, but not too lengthy (the 6/16 China Cat is about as long as this Scarlet). I'm liking Brent's touches here more than in the first set (and Jerry's only slightly less). Bobby adds some really nice color, too. It's a fine thing they have going before they hit >
Fire. Scarlet may be a better composition, and yield a more obviously "interesting" jam, but Fire often outshone its prerequisite in performance. Brent's failing harmonies really mar the chorus, but in between verses, wonderful things happen. Jerry's got that wonderful "Fire"-specific tone—he's playing for VOLUME, and Brent's right with him, and Bobby knows just how to stoke the intensity even more. This is HOT. Brent's flurries or stabs of notes come off not clumsy but inspired and "ablaze." Bobby's playing is really elegant, too, and his more distorted tone is a wonderful foil for the clarity of Jerry's declamations. That Scarlet reprise-thing ends the pairing with bounce and poise, an interesting pairing to the catharsis of the past couple minutes.
In essence, this "Fire"'s on fire.
Playing. Yay—Funiculi tuning. Just a little bit. Looking ahead at the setlist, this is a nice three-part Playing, with a jam and a reprise to follow post-Drumz. Obviously, this song isn't what it once was, and I prefer many of the Bruce versions to late-Brent ones, but this is at least crisp, unflubbed. I really prefer the direct dive into D minor in the jam, too—a D major jam feels much more like just an afterthought to the "song" portion much more suitable to an unfinished Playing. The jam here starts off even more low-key than the one out of Scarlet, but by about halfway through things start to get harrier, more chromatic—Brent and Bobby responsible as much as Jerry. Bobby's dissonance occasionally robs Jerry of some inspired melodicism, but we do need some envelope-pushing if this jam is going to be worth our while. It's not badly handled at all, of course. The latter jam portion, incidentally, would be a great pre-Drums jam—I'm hoping He's Gone rises to the occasion. About nine minutes in we get some pseudo-Terrapin jamming—undoubtedly very much a possibility. Jamming cools off considerably in the last minute and sounds like something late in Space–tonal, searching for the next path to take. >
He's Gone. Interesting overlap between the end of playing and the start here. Brent's still trying to carry the high line, but he's very hard to hear. The verses can be a little monotonous, for all the neatly executed playing. The instrumental gains considerable interest. Phil starts to speak up more than he has in a while—contributing a really cool run to the second "steal your face" line. The vocal coda comes off quite well, in spite of a series of questionable uses of the dominant chord in Garcia's guitar accompaniment. Leaves us about 2:40 to get us to Drums. Very pleasant stuff. Hints at Eyes, Stella, maybe even the upcoming Miracle. Phil is very prominent and they really make this a nice, if brief, little jam. Bobby last man standing before >
Drums. Drums and Space probably best serve their function if they can pretend not to be a rote fixture—that is, if they can masquerade as the natural jam that lies between, in this case, He's Gone and Miracle. I suppose if they take on a really successful life of their own, that clinches it on different terms. I'll admit, I don't think most do either, but this is a fairly interesting Drums, and it may well belong in that second positive category. It's indicative of Mickey's world music interests, certainly, and parts recall that really cool "And" jam from Drumz featured on Terrapin Limited. >
Space. The MIDI effects really work well here, and the drastic fluctuations in volume and timbre sound really cool on these headphones. '90 Space could be pretty scary (3/19 comes to mind, not to mention 9/20 leading into Dark Star). I'm always glad to spend more time on Space than Drums, as here. Still, it's just atmospheric—it doesn't have the boldness that define a few excellent examples that solidify into a more musical statement. You'll get a cool passage or two, and they're listening to one another, but it just doesn't add up as much as one would like. My ears perk up for anything suggesting E: E is where we came from, and E is where we're going. We need to find our way back there. The transition amounts to about 20 seconds Miracle riffing at the end. >
Miracle. Nothing beats the coolness of "Lunatic Preserve">Miracle coming up on 9/16 of that year, but this show has its own draws, of course. Phil's fairly loud '90 tone is a lot of what makes this song. I just can't help tapping my foot along to Jerry's solo, giving the slightest inclination toward head-banging even though my roommate's around. This is actually one of my favorite exits out of Space, and this one really ROCKS. This is a lot of fun, and a good way to kick off what is typically the weakest third of the show. The G major transition provides a good hint as to the coming song, and it's a beautiful, natural segue into >
Crazy Fingers. I've very seldom heard a Crazy Fingers post '76 that turned out as I would have liked, but I do like them post-Space. The instrumentation during the singing is mostly just chords, and one or two isn't quite right. Brent is the best bit to listen to. And Jerry no longer sounds like he's owning the vocals. The choruses would really benefit from Brent's voice being there. Jerry's solo is weak and spindly. The instrumental outro is better. Really brief Main Ten jam/fakeout into >
Dear Mr. Fantasy. Brent doesn't sound nearly as wrong-footed as he did in Just A Little Light. Jerry really tears up the rather easier material in this song. Everyone does really well in this kind of three-chord rock environment at this point in the show. I wouldn't have minded a straight nosedive from Miracle into this (I also wouldn't have minded the Crazy Fingers if it had just been better). If you weren't looking at the set list, of course, you would think a Hey Jude reprise were on its way; Jerry's first guitar line in the coda is almost straight "na-na-na"s. >
Playing. I shouldn't have expected more of the 30-second "jam" earlier. Let's see how they bring this string of music together. It's crisp, but the coda isn't as impassioned as I would like to hear. And sounds really weak next to any ending to Playing in the 70s. No segue whatsoever into:
Saturday Night. Not as intensely rockin' or well-played as any number of earlier versions, but Phil's into it, and no one's really messing up. Probably a fun ending to the show for those there. It's certainly got more balls than the Playing Reprise which preceded it (alas—the show could have just ended with a GOOD Reprise). They milk that last C chord for all it's worth.
ENCORE
Quinn. It's a fun encore. Brent's keyboard playing really suits the happy-sloppy mood of the song. Jerry's guitar isn't there as much, even when he's not singing. It's a pity that Bobby's voice is the one on top.
Set two/encore in review: Total time 103:43. Very solid pre-Drums, moderately disappointing post-Space, in spite of rockin' fun in Miracle and Mr. Fantasy. Highlight of the set was the incendiary Fire, aforementioned rockers, and nifty little jam out of He's Gone. Overall, it blows its load at the beginning and doesn't leave me feeling as good as set one, so I'm calling it a 6.
Show in review: Total time 171:15. A fun, uneven show worth hearing for its share of really stellar playing. Does not have enough to recommend itself over many other summer '90 shows. B-.
Grateful Dead
Tinley Park, IL 7/21/90
SET ONE
Touch. Perhaps because of its close association with the start of a Dead show, maybe because it's status as a bona fide hit—always lends an energetic punch as opener. The harmonies, as usual, fall somewhere behind the overall standard, but Jerry is individually in VERY STRONG voice, Brent's organ is nice and juicy, and Phil really smokes in some interesting bass counterpoint. Jerry's solo isn't too shabby. Some really weird effects during the second bridge! (SOUND QUALITY, by the way, is fantastic—this is a Miller, and it could pass for a Dick's Pick.) No true segue, but following soon is:
GSET. Brent's still suffering from whatever vocal ailment dogged him through July '90, during a month that was exceptional for his keyboard performances. (Hope he's saving up for Just a Little Light.) Bobby, however, is in as strong voice as Jerry, sounding fairly unstrained on a song that often gives him some trouble. Brent's keyboard tumbling kicks serious ass, and the intersection of him and Phil and Bobby and Jerry is right on during the instrumental. Even better than Touch.
Bottom line: Touch and GSET form an extremely well-played and energetic combo. I'm seriously pumped for whatever else this show might hold.
Jack-A-Roe. Starts off with a lot of energy and bounce! Jerry's guitar lines in between lyrics carry a lot of elegant menace. Again, this is about the best 1990 singing you could ask for. What's striking about instrumental action like such here is that is really has all the interweaving attentiveness of the early- to mid- 70's—the drummers' relative rigidity makes a difference, of course, but this is really fine playing from all (Bobby included).
Maybe I need to be more sparing with four-star ratings, because it eliminates a special class for material that's as excellent as this, but just barely shy of five stars.
Walkin' Blues. And into harmonic major. Wonderful swampy tone here, and it sounds like everyone's playing it with attentiveness and not by rote. Jerry and Bobby's skillful framing of Brent's solo is exquisite. I love Bobby's vocal performance in blues songs—idiosyncratic like Dylan's, but moderately convincing.
FOTD. I never tire of hearing this song in this era, for whatever reason. Starts fairly inconspicuously, as if the band isn't entirely sure if it's still prepping itself or if it's already begun in earnest. Every reiteration of the main riff, however, gains confidence. Jerry's voice sounds craggier here, but I think he's adjusting to the song. Almost inversely, the harmonies are stronger. The usual cycle of solos begin: Brent's more upbeat and barroom sounding than those from the early end of his tenure, which I confess to prefer (at least in this song), but however it doesn't perfectly suit the song, his playing is at its most virtuosic; Jerry jumps in with an awesome anticipating into what is, unfortunately, Bobby's solo slot, leaving the latter momentarily unsure of what he should be doing—it is, however, representative of the immense energy everyone's bringing to the show tonight. They've got their A game on. Jerry's solo is spiraling in a way that indicates he's following the tone set by Brent (though I swear he usually goes through two iterations of the solo). Very good altogether, but not 6/16/90, say.
Just A Little Light. Okay, I'm no fan of this compositionally, but it can still bring out a good performance. In the pre-song tuning, everyone adjusts to the right synth-tones. I like the collective timbre, I admit! Thick and funky. Brent's voice acquits itself decently, but it's not up to its usual standards; he sounds more than a little hoarse. And the difficulties in the singing somehow manifest itself in a considerable absence of keyboard work. Jerry's playing well, but the song continues to hobble as if everything's been thrown just a little bit out of sync. The keyboard playing is extremely thin, and the song loses a lot of energy. Brent seems unsure of when and where to come in. Let the man go back to his keyboard and leave his singing out of it tonight. (Uh-oh. We've got a Dear Mr. Fantasy coming up.) Low point of set so far.
Queen Jane. Let's hope this song picks the energy up since it came to a really unfortunate halt in the last song. Brent's still not playing like he was in FOTD, and Phil doesn't seem as prominent as he was in the first half of the set. Jerry is easily the strongest player tonight (which wasn't a given in the later years, of course). Brent's keyboard lines follow fairly basic established patterns for Queen Jane, until about halfway through, when things start to pick up more. Jerry's harmonizing his part well, too. Brent's solo is busy, but hardly inventive, and too fixed on the upper register. He leaves a gaping which Jerry fills with another solo. By the end of the song, everyone's packing some power, and it looks like the Bird Song to round things off, jam-heavy and Jerry-led, might keep this set in very positive terrain.
Bird Song. The tuning gives everyone ample hint as to what's to follow (and likely close the set). They all sound really prepped to kick into it, though. Brent's sometimes dizzying keyboard lines are much more appropriate-sounding here, but occasionally overkill. (This is, by the way, the longest GD Bird Song in my possession.) Jerry and Phil are weaving a very convincing Bird Song from the beginning of the jam, with Brent adding appropriate threats of dissonance, throwing in all possibilities of dangerous twists and turns and dark alleys. Jerry's the main player, but everyone's listening very attentively to him, following him and supporting him and mirroring him and filling in for him and giving him space as necessary. Jerry starts bending notes in all kinds of crazy ways, effecting this spacey kind of sublimity everyone's pushing toward. This is another song I really like to hear in '89-'90—less introspective than the versions of '72-'73 but equally well-played. Reaches some really piercing and resounding highs. From there, the intensity starts to come down for the last five minutes, but that's okay. They're talkin' their way back down—really a beautiful structure for a jam, too. Amazing what you can do modally.
Set one in review: Total time 67:32. Generally very strong. Highlights are Bird Song followed by Touch>Greatest followed by Jack-A-Roe. Everything else very good except for Little Light, which in context is a real downer that takes just about the whole of Queen Jane to recover from (for both band and listener). I'm calling it a 7 on the whole.
SET TWO
Scarlet. Jerry's singing well, and the whole thing is crisp, but Brent's organ is really all that stands out instrumentally during the singing. As usual for July, Brent's harmonies are somewhat weak. Jerry's solo won't take your breath away, but Phil supports him nicely, and you can hear the crowd digging it, even in the soundboard—maybe why the band seem to warm into it as the instrumental goes on. Brent switches to keyboard for the jam, which I appreciate in Scarlet. The jam takes an easygoing course. It's nice, but not too lengthy (the 6/16 China Cat is about as long as this Scarlet). I'm liking Brent's touches here more than in the first set (and Jerry's only slightly less). Bobby adds some really nice color, too. It's a fine thing they have going before they hit >
Fire. Scarlet may be a better composition, and yield a more obviously "interesting" jam, but Fire often outshone its prerequisite in performance. Brent's failing harmonies really mar the chorus, but in between verses, wonderful things happen. Jerry's got that wonderful "Fire"-specific tone—he's playing for VOLUME, and Brent's right with him, and Bobby knows just how to stoke the intensity even more. This is HOT. Brent's flurries or stabs of notes come off not clumsy but inspired and "ablaze." Bobby's playing is really elegant, too, and his more distorted tone is a wonderful foil for the clarity of Jerry's declamations. That Scarlet reprise-thing ends the pairing with bounce and poise, an interesting pairing to the catharsis of the past couple minutes.
In essence, this "Fire"'s on fire.
Playing. Yay—Funiculi tuning. Just a little bit. Looking ahead at the setlist, this is a nice three-part Playing, with a jam and a reprise to follow post-Drumz. Obviously, this song isn't what it once was, and I prefer many of the Bruce versions to late-Brent ones, but this is at least crisp, unflubbed. I really prefer the direct dive into D minor in the jam, too—a D major jam feels much more like just an afterthought to the "song" portion much more suitable to an unfinished Playing. The jam here starts off even more low-key than the one out of Scarlet, but by about halfway through things start to get harrier, more chromatic—Brent and Bobby responsible as much as Jerry. Bobby's dissonance occasionally robs Jerry of some inspired melodicism, but we do need some envelope-pushing if this jam is going to be worth our while. It's not badly handled at all, of course. The latter jam portion, incidentally, would be a great pre-Drums jam—I'm hoping He's Gone rises to the occasion. About nine minutes in we get some pseudo-Terrapin jamming—undoubtedly very much a possibility. Jamming cools off considerably in the last minute and sounds like something late in Space–tonal, searching for the next path to take. >
He's Gone. Interesting overlap between the end of playing and the start here. Brent's still trying to carry the high line, but he's very hard to hear. The verses can be a little monotonous, for all the neatly executed playing. The instrumental gains considerable interest. Phil starts to speak up more than he has in a while—contributing a really cool run to the second "steal your face" line. The vocal coda comes off quite well, in spite of a series of questionable uses of the dominant chord in Garcia's guitar accompaniment. Leaves us about 2:40 to get us to Drums. Very pleasant stuff. Hints at Eyes, Stella, maybe even the upcoming Miracle. Phil is very prominent and they really make this a nice, if brief, little jam. Bobby last man standing before >
Drums. Drums and Space probably best serve their function if they can pretend not to be a rote fixture—that is, if they can masquerade as the natural jam that lies between, in this case, He's Gone and Miracle. I suppose if they take on a really successful life of their own, that clinches it on different terms. I'll admit, I don't think most do either, but this is a fairly interesting Drums, and it may well belong in that second positive category. It's indicative of Mickey's world music interests, certainly, and parts recall that really cool "And" jam from Drumz featured on Terrapin Limited. >
Space. The MIDI effects really work well here, and the drastic fluctuations in volume and timbre sound really cool on these headphones. '90 Space could be pretty scary (3/19 comes to mind, not to mention 9/20 leading into Dark Star). I'm always glad to spend more time on Space than Drums, as here. Still, it's just atmospheric—it doesn't have the boldness that define a few excellent examples that solidify into a more musical statement. You'll get a cool passage or two, and they're listening to one another, but it just doesn't add up as much as one would like. My ears perk up for anything suggesting E: E is where we came from, and E is where we're going. We need to find our way back there. The transition amounts to about 20 seconds Miracle riffing at the end. >
Miracle. Nothing beats the coolness of "Lunatic Preserve">Miracle coming up on 9/16 of that year, but this show has its own draws, of course. Phil's fairly loud '90 tone is a lot of what makes this song. I just can't help tapping my foot along to Jerry's solo, giving the slightest inclination toward head-banging even though my roommate's around. This is actually one of my favorite exits out of Space, and this one really ROCKS. This is a lot of fun, and a good way to kick off what is typically the weakest third of the show. The G major transition provides a good hint as to the coming song, and it's a beautiful, natural segue into >
Crazy Fingers. I've very seldom heard a Crazy Fingers post '76 that turned out as I would have liked, but I do like them post-Space. The instrumentation during the singing is mostly just chords, and one or two isn't quite right. Brent is the best bit to listen to. And Jerry no longer sounds like he's owning the vocals. The choruses would really benefit from Brent's voice being there. Jerry's solo is weak and spindly. The instrumental outro is better. Really brief Main Ten jam/fakeout into >
Dear Mr. Fantasy. Brent doesn't sound nearly as wrong-footed as he did in Just A Little Light. Jerry really tears up the rather easier material in this song. Everyone does really well in this kind of three-chord rock environment at this point in the show. I wouldn't have minded a straight nosedive from Miracle into this (I also wouldn't have minded the Crazy Fingers if it had just been better). If you weren't looking at the set list, of course, you would think a Hey Jude reprise were on its way; Jerry's first guitar line in the coda is almost straight "na-na-na"s. >
Playing. I shouldn't have expected more of the 30-second "jam" earlier. Let's see how they bring this string of music together. It's crisp, but the coda isn't as impassioned as I would like to hear. And sounds really weak next to any ending to Playing in the 70s. No segue whatsoever into:
Saturday Night. Not as intensely rockin' or well-played as any number of earlier versions, but Phil's into it, and no one's really messing up. Probably a fun ending to the show for those there. It's certainly got more balls than the Playing Reprise which preceded it (alas—the show could have just ended with a GOOD Reprise). They milk that last C chord for all it's worth.
ENCORE
Quinn. It's a fun encore. Brent's keyboard playing really suits the happy-sloppy mood of the song. Jerry's guitar isn't there as much, even when he's not singing. It's a pity that Bobby's voice is the one on top.
Set two/encore in review: Total time 103:43. Very solid pre-Drums, moderately disappointing post-Space, in spite of rockin' fun in Miracle and Mr. Fantasy. Highlight of the set was the incendiary Fire, aforementioned rockers, and nifty little jam out of He's Gone. Overall, it blows its load at the beginning and doesn't leave me feeling as good as set one, so I'm calling it a 6.
Show in review: Total time 171:15. A fun, uneven show worth hearing for its share of really stellar playing. Does not have enough to recommend itself over many other summer '90 shows. B-.
Grateful Dead, 7/21/90 Tinley Park, IL
[Author's Note: I've finally done what I'd promised myself to do for ages and distilled my notes on a Grateful Dead show into a coherent review. Reviewing live music was the principal intended purpose for this blog, so I hope to make this something of a regular occurrence. This post is first in a planned three-part series dissecting Brent Mydland's last shows with the Grateful Dead.]
Grateful Dead
Tinley Park, IL 7/21/90
Brent Mydland's Last Stand: Part I of III
There's a lot to love about set one tonight. In the first fifteen minutes, the band delivers a truly wonderful string of uptempo songs: "Touch" and "Greatest Story" show both Jerry and Bobby in excellent voice, as well as energetic and attentive playing from all, which spills over into an infectiously bouncy "Jack-a-Roe." In the last fifteen minutes, we get a beautiful and expansive "Bird Song," which reaches some piercing and resounding highs at the end of its long, cathartic climb, hinting along the way at startling wells of dissonance and space—it's about as good as the song ever got.
In between these extraordinary bookends falls half an hour of more uneven fare. "Walkin' Blues" is fun and fresh, and "Friend of the Devil" is even better, if not 6/16/90. The show comes to the first of two considerable crashes, however, with "Just a Little Light." Brent's voice is showing a lot of strain this entire show, as it was throughout July, and these difficulties somehow sap his keyboard playing which in turn throws the band out of sync and derails the song. It takes them the entirety of the following "Queen Jane" to fully recover.
The second set starts off at least as promisingly as the first. After an average, low-key "Scarlet," the band creates magic with a "Fire" that truly lives up to its name. Bobby and Brent know just how to poke Jerry for maximum intensity, and tonight they really succeed—his playing is simply ablaze. "Fire" is the absolute highlight of the show and a wonderful reminder of the copious treasures of Summer 1990.
There's still a "Playing" and "He's Gone" to come before "Drums," and both are well-played, especially in the last few minutes of each. The former dissolves into a jam like something from late in "Space" as they search for the next path to take; the latter resolves into a gorgeous, E-major dew with generous contributions from Phil, hinting at at "Eyes," "Stella," maybe even the coming "Miracle."
Post-"Space" isn't nearly as successful. In between a head-banging "Miracle" and a juicy "Dear Mr. Fantasy" comes the second great crash of the show, an all-around weak "Crazy Fingers" followed by a whimper of a "Playing" jam. To round out the set, we get the conclusion to "Playing," which is crisp but flat, and an average "Saturday Night," which, along with the average "Quinn" encore, still makes for a fun end to the show.
7/21/90 offers a relatively attractive package of Grateful Dead from the end of the Brent years and boasts its share of really stellar playing. However, its frustrating unevenness, particularly in the second set, takes a heavy toll on the show, which ultimately does not have enough to recommend itself over many others from that tour.
SET ONE. 7
SET TWO / ENCORE. 6
SHOW. B-/B
The recent remasters of this run by Charlie Miller sound fantastic, on par with, say, Dick's Picks, Vol. 9. This is unquestionably the version you will want to seek out.
http://db.etree.org/shninfo_detail.php?shnid=95809
Grateful Dead
Tinley Park, IL 7/21/90
Brent Mydland's Last Stand: Part I of III
There's a lot to love about set one tonight. In the first fifteen minutes, the band delivers a truly wonderful string of uptempo songs: "Touch" and "Greatest Story" show both Jerry and Bobby in excellent voice, as well as energetic and attentive playing from all, which spills over into an infectiously bouncy "Jack-a-Roe." In the last fifteen minutes, we get a beautiful and expansive "Bird Song," which reaches some piercing and resounding highs at the end of its long, cathartic climb, hinting along the way at startling wells of dissonance and space—it's about as good as the song ever got.
In between these extraordinary bookends falls half an hour of more uneven fare. "Walkin' Blues" is fun and fresh, and "Friend of the Devil" is even better, if not 6/16/90. The show comes to the first of two considerable crashes, however, with "Just a Little Light." Brent's voice is showing a lot of strain this entire show, as it was throughout July, and these difficulties somehow sap his keyboard playing which in turn throws the band out of sync and derails the song. It takes them the entirety of the following "Queen Jane" to fully recover.
The second set starts off at least as promisingly as the first. After an average, low-key "Scarlet," the band creates magic with a "Fire" that truly lives up to its name. Bobby and Brent know just how to poke Jerry for maximum intensity, and tonight they really succeed—his playing is simply ablaze. "Fire" is the absolute highlight of the show and a wonderful reminder of the copious treasures of Summer 1990.
There's still a "Playing" and "He's Gone" to come before "Drums," and both are well-played, especially in the last few minutes of each. The former dissolves into a jam like something from late in "Space" as they search for the next path to take; the latter resolves into a gorgeous, E-major dew with generous contributions from Phil, hinting at at "Eyes," "Stella," maybe even the coming "Miracle."
Post-"Space" isn't nearly as successful. In between a head-banging "Miracle" and a juicy "Dear Mr. Fantasy" comes the second great crash of the show, an all-around weak "Crazy Fingers" followed by a whimper of a "Playing" jam. To round out the set, we get the conclusion to "Playing," which is crisp but flat, and an average "Saturday Night," which, along with the average "Quinn" encore, still makes for a fun end to the show.
7/21/90 offers a relatively attractive package of Grateful Dead from the end of the Brent years and boasts its share of really stellar playing. However, its frustrating unevenness, particularly in the second set, takes a heavy toll on the show, which ultimately does not have enough to recommend itself over many others from that tour.
SET ONE. 7
SET TWO / ENCORE. 6
SHOW. B-/B
The recent remasters of this run by Charlie Miller sound fantastic, on par with, say, Dick's Picks, Vol. 9. This is unquestionably the version you will want to seek out.
http://db.etree.org/shninfo_detail.php?shnid=95809
2008/10/21
[Bob Dylan, Tell Tale Signs: NOTES]
[Author's Note: As before, here are the notes I took while listening to Tell Tale Signs and on which I based my review. There is nothing remotely polished about these notes. They reflect minute-by-minute impressions of the songs. There is, however, a lot here that did not make it into the review, if you really, really want to know what I thought of the album.]
Bob Dylan
Tell Tale Signs
DISC ONE
*Mississippi [Unreleased, Time Out]. "Numbered days" theme of later work. Beautiful, simple, acoustic take in contrast to much of Time Out. One can see how from a producer's standpoint (Lanois's), this might be musically "pedestrian," but this is lovely. Lyrics full of love, gratitude, wisdom, and age. Bob Dylan at his most human. Vaguely Carpe Diem. Favorite lines: "All my powers of expression and thoughts so sublime / Could never do you justice in reason or rhyme";
"Well my ship's been split to splinters and it's sinking fast
I'm drownin' in the poison, got no future, got no past
But my heart is not weary, it's light and it's free
I've got nothin' but affection for all those who've sailed with me";
"My clothes are wet, tight on my skin / Not as tight as the corner that I painted myself in"; "Well, the emptiness is endless, cold as the clay / You can always come back, but you can't come back all the way."
COMPARE TO TAKE ON LOVE AND THEFT.
Most of the Time [Alt., Oh Mercy]. In terms of music and instrumentation, very much like pre-electric Dylan, acoustic guitar and harmonica. Only his voice dates the song accurately. Very much less produced, again, than Lanois wanted and was eventually released. Lyrically, almost an update on "Blood on the Tracks," a view of love farther in retrospect. Each repetition of "most of the time" alludes to the frailty that undermines the general sense of wholeness. Less emotionally charged, more bare than album take.
Dignity [Piano Demo, Oh Mercy]. Lyrics considerably different from version released on Greatest Hits 3. Not a revelation, per se.
Someday Baby [Alt., Modern Times]. DRAMATICALLY different from the blues of the album. Sounds something like a march of self-empowerment in the wake of the hurt in love described. Lyrics substantially different. Might not have felt right on Modern Times--right call on passing this take over. "Living this way ain't a natural thing to do / Why was I born to love you?"
Red River Shore [Unreleased, Time Out]. Lanois (I'm guessing it's his doing) has this song all decked out in an interesting rhythmic pattern, which is welcome, and accordion, which isn't. Another song of long-ago love. Fine, formally perfect, but nothing to write home about. Best part is the last verse:
"Now, I've heard of a guy who lived a long time ago
A man full of sorrow and strife
Whenever someone around him died and was dead
He knew how to bring 'em on back to life
Well, I don't know what kind of language he used
Or if they do that kind of thing anymore
Sometimes I think nobody ever saw me here at all
'Cept the girl from the Red River shore"
Tell Ol' Bill [Alt., North Country Soundtrack]. Catchy, bouncy, dark melody--chunky piano, understated guitar, very effective. Suits the similarly troubled lyrics perfectly. Musically, it could be a jazz/pop song from the first half of the 20th century. "You trampled on me as you passed / Left the coldest kiss upon my brow."
Born In Time [Unreleased, Oh Mercy]. Radically different lyrics from version on Red Sky. Impassioned, melodically inventive for Dylan, but the lyrics don't do much at all. Manages to sound trite and contrived, consigned to a less successful album.
Can't Wait [Alt., Time Out]. Again, substitutes entirely new verses for the ones that made the album. "I've been living on lame excuses"--there's a good line that didn't make Time Out.
Everything Is Broken [Alt., Oh Mercy]. Gleeful catalogue of broken things, little more. This is "Obviously Five Believers"-type Dylan. Actually would have worked pretty well on Blonde on Blonde (Lanois's dark, echoey production excepting).
*Dreamin' Of You [Unreleased, Time Out]. Very nice dark ambience with just the right bit of drive-force behind it, exactly what Lanois was good at. I don't see why this didn't make the album--this is excellent, and would have held its own with the best of the selected material. Another song of a man driven to desperation in visions of the "you" to whom the song is addressed: "Even if the flesh falls off my face / It won't matter as long as you're there."
Huck's Tune [Lucky You Soundtrack]. Country ballad. Lyrics fall somewhere between silly and brilliant. Like this: "All the merry little elves / Can go hang themselves / My faith is as cold as can be." Also typical age concerns: "I count the years / And I shed no tears / I'm blinded to what might have been." Through the prism of setting aside a problematic relationship. I like it.
Marchin' to the City [Unreleased, Time Out]. His voice sounds better than it did a decade later when you make that jump track to track! Slow, simple blues, shaped by piano and spidery Lanois-style organ, and shaded with subtle gospel stylings. The lyrics are quite interesting. "Loneliness got a mind of its own / The more people around, the more you feel alone"; "I'm carrying the roses that were given to me / And I'm thinking about paradise, wondering what it might be." Thematic follow-up to previous track. Powerful crescendo throughout relieves the track of three-chord monotony.
*High Water (for Charlie Patton) [Live, 2003]. COMPARE TO ALBUM VERSION. His voice takes a verse to really get in the swing of the song and to croak out the lines in full, but once his voice is there, the rest of the song gels simultaneously. Musically, this COOKS--his backing band turns in a very strong, heavy live performance here. The more outrageous lyrics really do work, and they form an effective contrast with the tame. Take lines like these: "I got a cravin' love for blazing speed, got a hopped up Mustang Ford / Jump into the wagon, love, throw your panties overboard"; "I'm getting' up in the morning - I believe I'll dust my broom." Lot of fun. Ends disc one strongly.
DISC TWO
*Mississippi [Unreleased 2, Time Out]. Very different take from the other--lower, with bluesy slide-guitar touches. Again, his voice was noticeably fitter in '97 even if his overall tone has remained the same throughout the period represented. Very nice.
*32-20 Blues [Unreleased, World Gone Wrong]. Awesome acoustic blues, Robert Johnson cover.
Series of Dreams [Unreleased, Oh Mercy]. Slower than take from Greatest Hits 3 / Bootleg 1-3. Again, whole verses are added, lines are exchanged, etc. Weird (for Dylan) use of synthesizer in bass. Very simple, straightforward kind of acoustic/electric-hybrid, buzzing rock, a little on the jittery end. Wouldn't have sounded weird around some corner of London Calling. Not fantastic.
God Knows [Unreleased, Oh Mercy]. COMPARE WITH TAKE ON RED SKY. Fits quite well after previous track. Wouldn't sound weird on a Stones album, same kind of rockin' murkiness.
Can't Escape from You [Unreleased, 2005]. "?The dead bells are ringing / My train is overdue"; "It never should have ended / I should have kissed you in the rain"; "I can't help looking at you / You made love with God knows who." A few interesting lyrics, otherwise standard old-timey ballad.
Dignity [Unreleased, Oh Mercy]. This take has a Truckin'-like triplet riff running through it. "Blind man breakin' out of a trance / Puts both of his hands in the bucket of chance / Hoping to find one circumstance of dignity." Rich in characters and allusion. (?Check out Don Juan verse again.)
*Ring Them Bells [Live, 1993]. Nice incorporation of both acoustic and pedal steel guitar in the instrumental mix. Builds to HIGH emotional climax on bridge.
"Oh the lines are long
And the fighting is strong
And they're breaking down the distance
Between right and wrong."
Very nice.
Cocaine Blues [Live, 1997]. Different song from the one Johnny Cash sings. Again, nice pedal steel and acoustic juxtaposition. Dylan's frenzied vocal performance is appropriately attuned to the underlying sickness and desperation of the song--the raggedness of it really works here, as to the rustic harmonies of the backup singer.
*Ain't Talkin' [Alt., Modern Times]. Not too fundamentally different from the album take, but by the same token, equally impressive. Interesting hint of fingerpicking banjo faint in the mix. As anyone who has heard Modern Times knows, this song is a dark conclusion to that album. "If I catch my opponents ever sleepin' / I'll just slaughter them where they lie";
"Ain't talkin', just walkin'
Through the world mysterious and vague
Heart burnin', still yearnin'
Walking through the cities of the plague"
A handful of lyrics exchanged. Lyrically (perhaps because of its abridged length), not quite as powerful a statement as it was on Modern Times, but holds its own with the best of this album. A definite highlight.
The Girl on the Greenbriar Shore [Live, 1992]. Traditional Appalachian folk song, very much like something Garcia and Grisman would have tackled around the same time, or Dylan early in his career. Solo acoustic. Nice on the heels of more thickly arranged original material.
*Lonesome Day Blues [Live, 2002]. Wow, growling voice here. Occasionally funny blues. "Samantha Brown lived in my house for about four or five months / Don't know how it looked to other people - I never slept with her even once"; "Funny how the things you have the hardest time parting with are the things you need the least." The vocal affect here is similarly hilarious, like the lyrics. "My captain, he's decorated - he's well schooled and he's skilled / He's not sentimental - don't bother him at all how many of his pals have been killed." This is a minor gem of a song [COMPARE TO LOVE AND THEFT!]. This is the equal of the best of his recent songwriting, like Thunder on the Mountain, and probably of his entire career. Appropriately DYLANESQUE, too. Oh, and the blues are rollicking.
Miss the Mississippi [Unreleased, 1992]. Lovely, old-timey country ballad. Again, nice arrangement--the organ, mandolin, pedal steel. Bill Halley song, apparently. Pleasant.
The Lonesome River [with Ralph Stanley]. Wow, bona fide bluegrass arrangement.
Cross the Green Mountain [Gods and Generals Soundtrack]. Appropriate closing track, certainly. The lyrics aren't fantastic, probably much better in the context of a Civil War film. Somewhat cliche, actually. Part of it seems to be an elegy for Stonewall Jackson, actually. Some verses are bad ("Pride will vanish and glory will rot / But virtue lives and cannot be forgot"), some are better ("Let them say that I walked in fair nature's light / And that I was loyal to truth and to right"). Too many poetic inversions not to sound forced. Subpar Dylan work. I don't know why he closed the album with it.
* denotes a handful of songs I happened to especially enjoy
Bob Dylan
Tell Tale Signs
DISC ONE
*Mississippi [Unreleased, Time Out]. "Numbered days" theme of later work. Beautiful, simple, acoustic take in contrast to much of Time Out. One can see how from a producer's standpoint (Lanois's), this might be musically "pedestrian," but this is lovely. Lyrics full of love, gratitude, wisdom, and age. Bob Dylan at his most human. Vaguely Carpe Diem. Favorite lines: "All my powers of expression and thoughts so sublime / Could never do you justice in reason or rhyme";
"Well my ship's been split to splinters and it's sinking fast
I'm drownin' in the poison, got no future, got no past
But my heart is not weary, it's light and it's free
I've got nothin' but affection for all those who've sailed with me";
"My clothes are wet, tight on my skin / Not as tight as the corner that I painted myself in"; "Well, the emptiness is endless, cold as the clay / You can always come back, but you can't come back all the way."
COMPARE TO TAKE ON LOVE AND THEFT.
Most of the Time [Alt., Oh Mercy]. In terms of music and instrumentation, very much like pre-electric Dylan, acoustic guitar and harmonica. Only his voice dates the song accurately. Very much less produced, again, than Lanois wanted and was eventually released. Lyrically, almost an update on "Blood on the Tracks," a view of love farther in retrospect. Each repetition of "most of the time" alludes to the frailty that undermines the general sense of wholeness. Less emotionally charged, more bare than album take.
Dignity [Piano Demo, Oh Mercy]. Lyrics considerably different from version released on Greatest Hits 3. Not a revelation, per se.
Someday Baby [Alt., Modern Times]. DRAMATICALLY different from the blues of the album. Sounds something like a march of self-empowerment in the wake of the hurt in love described. Lyrics substantially different. Might not have felt right on Modern Times--right call on passing this take over. "Living this way ain't a natural thing to do / Why was I born to love you?"
Red River Shore [Unreleased, Time Out]. Lanois (I'm guessing it's his doing) has this song all decked out in an interesting rhythmic pattern, which is welcome, and accordion, which isn't. Another song of long-ago love. Fine, formally perfect, but nothing to write home about. Best part is the last verse:
"Now, I've heard of a guy who lived a long time ago
A man full of sorrow and strife
Whenever someone around him died and was dead
He knew how to bring 'em on back to life
Well, I don't know what kind of language he used
Or if they do that kind of thing anymore
Sometimes I think nobody ever saw me here at all
'Cept the girl from the Red River shore"
Tell Ol' Bill [Alt., North Country Soundtrack]. Catchy, bouncy, dark melody--chunky piano, understated guitar, very effective. Suits the similarly troubled lyrics perfectly. Musically, it could be a jazz/pop song from the first half of the 20th century. "You trampled on me as you passed / Left the coldest kiss upon my brow."
Born In Time [Unreleased, Oh Mercy]. Radically different lyrics from version on Red Sky. Impassioned, melodically inventive for Dylan, but the lyrics don't do much at all. Manages to sound trite and contrived, consigned to a less successful album.
Can't Wait [Alt., Time Out]. Again, substitutes entirely new verses for the ones that made the album. "I've been living on lame excuses"--there's a good line that didn't make Time Out.
Everything Is Broken [Alt., Oh Mercy]. Gleeful catalogue of broken things, little more. This is "Obviously Five Believers"-type Dylan. Actually would have worked pretty well on Blonde on Blonde (Lanois's dark, echoey production excepting).
*Dreamin' Of You [Unreleased, Time Out]. Very nice dark ambience with just the right bit of drive-force behind it, exactly what Lanois was good at. I don't see why this didn't make the album--this is excellent, and would have held its own with the best of the selected material. Another song of a man driven to desperation in visions of the "you" to whom the song is addressed: "Even if the flesh falls off my face / It won't matter as long as you're there."
Huck's Tune [Lucky You Soundtrack]. Country ballad. Lyrics fall somewhere between silly and brilliant. Like this: "All the merry little elves / Can go hang themselves / My faith is as cold as can be." Also typical age concerns: "I count the years / And I shed no tears / I'm blinded to what might have been." Through the prism of setting aside a problematic relationship. I like it.
Marchin' to the City [Unreleased, Time Out]. His voice sounds better than it did a decade later when you make that jump track to track! Slow, simple blues, shaped by piano and spidery Lanois-style organ, and shaded with subtle gospel stylings. The lyrics are quite interesting. "Loneliness got a mind of its own / The more people around, the more you feel alone"; "I'm carrying the roses that were given to me / And I'm thinking about paradise, wondering what it might be." Thematic follow-up to previous track. Powerful crescendo throughout relieves the track of three-chord monotony.
*High Water (for Charlie Patton) [Live, 2003]. COMPARE TO ALBUM VERSION. His voice takes a verse to really get in the swing of the song and to croak out the lines in full, but once his voice is there, the rest of the song gels simultaneously. Musically, this COOKS--his backing band turns in a very strong, heavy live performance here. The more outrageous lyrics really do work, and they form an effective contrast with the tame. Take lines like these: "I got a cravin' love for blazing speed, got a hopped up Mustang Ford / Jump into the wagon, love, throw your panties overboard"; "I'm getting' up in the morning - I believe I'll dust my broom." Lot of fun. Ends disc one strongly.
DISC TWO
*Mississippi [Unreleased 2, Time Out]. Very different take from the other--lower, with bluesy slide-guitar touches. Again, his voice was noticeably fitter in '97 even if his overall tone has remained the same throughout the period represented. Very nice.
*32-20 Blues [Unreleased, World Gone Wrong]. Awesome acoustic blues, Robert Johnson cover.
Series of Dreams [Unreleased, Oh Mercy]. Slower than take from Greatest Hits 3 / Bootleg 1-3. Again, whole verses are added, lines are exchanged, etc. Weird (for Dylan) use of synthesizer in bass. Very simple, straightforward kind of acoustic/electric-hybrid, buzzing rock, a little on the jittery end. Wouldn't have sounded weird around some corner of London Calling. Not fantastic.
God Knows [Unreleased, Oh Mercy]. COMPARE WITH TAKE ON RED SKY. Fits quite well after previous track. Wouldn't sound weird on a Stones album, same kind of rockin' murkiness.
Can't Escape from You [Unreleased, 2005]. "?The dead bells are ringing / My train is overdue"; "It never should have ended / I should have kissed you in the rain"; "I can't help looking at you / You made love with God knows who." A few interesting lyrics, otherwise standard old-timey ballad.
Dignity [Unreleased, Oh Mercy]. This take has a Truckin'-like triplet riff running through it. "Blind man breakin' out of a trance / Puts both of his hands in the bucket of chance / Hoping to find one circumstance of dignity." Rich in characters and allusion. (?Check out Don Juan verse again.)
*Ring Them Bells [Live, 1993]. Nice incorporation of both acoustic and pedal steel guitar in the instrumental mix. Builds to HIGH emotional climax on bridge.
"Oh the lines are long
And the fighting is strong
And they're breaking down the distance
Between right and wrong."
Very nice.
Cocaine Blues [Live, 1997]. Different song from the one Johnny Cash sings. Again, nice pedal steel and acoustic juxtaposition. Dylan's frenzied vocal performance is appropriately attuned to the underlying sickness and desperation of the song--the raggedness of it really works here, as to the rustic harmonies of the backup singer.
*Ain't Talkin' [Alt., Modern Times]. Not too fundamentally different from the album take, but by the same token, equally impressive. Interesting hint of fingerpicking banjo faint in the mix. As anyone who has heard Modern Times knows, this song is a dark conclusion to that album. "If I catch my opponents ever sleepin' / I'll just slaughter them where they lie";
"Ain't talkin', just walkin'
Through the world mysterious and vague
Heart burnin', still yearnin'
Walking through the cities of the plague"
A handful of lyrics exchanged. Lyrically (perhaps because of its abridged length), not quite as powerful a statement as it was on Modern Times, but holds its own with the best of this album. A definite highlight.
The Girl on the Greenbriar Shore [Live, 1992]. Traditional Appalachian folk song, very much like something Garcia and Grisman would have tackled around the same time, or Dylan early in his career. Solo acoustic. Nice on the heels of more thickly arranged original material.
*Lonesome Day Blues [Live, 2002]. Wow, growling voice here. Occasionally funny blues. "Samantha Brown lived in my house for about four or five months / Don't know how it looked to other people - I never slept with her even once"; "Funny how the things you have the hardest time parting with are the things you need the least." The vocal affect here is similarly hilarious, like the lyrics. "My captain, he's decorated - he's well schooled and he's skilled / He's not sentimental - don't bother him at all how many of his pals have been killed." This is a minor gem of a song [COMPARE TO LOVE AND THEFT!]. This is the equal of the best of his recent songwriting, like Thunder on the Mountain, and probably of his entire career. Appropriately DYLANESQUE, too. Oh, and the blues are rollicking.
Miss the Mississippi [Unreleased, 1992]. Lovely, old-timey country ballad. Again, nice arrangement--the organ, mandolin, pedal steel. Bill Halley song, apparently. Pleasant.
The Lonesome River [with Ralph Stanley]. Wow, bona fide bluegrass arrangement.
Cross the Green Mountain [Gods and Generals Soundtrack]. Appropriate closing track, certainly. The lyrics aren't fantastic, probably much better in the context of a Civil War film. Somewhat cliche, actually. Part of it seems to be an elegy for Stonewall Jackson, actually. Some verses are bad ("Pride will vanish and glory will rot / But virtue lives and cannot be forgot"), some are better ("Let them say that I walked in fair nature's light / And that I was loyal to truth and to right"). Too many poetic inversions not to sound forced. Subpar Dylan work. I don't know why he closed the album with it.
* denotes a handful of songs I happened to especially enjoy
Bob Dylan, Tell Tale Signs
[Author's Note: This review will be published in Friday's edition of the Wooster Voice. Notice I've reverted to that ridiculous newspaper convention of putting titles that should be italicized in quotes.]
Bob Dylan
"Tell Tale Signs"
In a career unrivaled in popular music, Bob Dylan's on yet another high. His 2006 album "Modern Times" was met with nearly universal acclaim, entering the U.S. charts at #1 and subsequently named album of the year by "Rolling Stone." Earlier this year, he was awarded a Pulitzer Prize special citation for the arts.
Riding on this wave is "Tell Tale Signs," the eighth volume of his ongoing "Bootleg Series" and his first collection of unreleased material in two years. "Tell Tale Signs" encompasses outtakes, alternate takes, live tracks, and other rarities from 1989-2006, a period of renewed creativity that yielded not only "Modern Times" but the equally celebrated "Time Out of Mind" (1997) and "Love and Theft" (2001).
Much of this material is hardly new at all—in fact, most of it’s been sitting in the vault for over ten years. Nonetheless, it's very much representative of recent Dylan. His voice is grizzled and craggy. His lyrics spotlight the concerns of aging and mortality even as they reflect a weary, experienced kind of contentment and an often biting sense of humor. His music draws not only on timeless Americana—folk, country, and the blues—but pop balladry circa the early 1900's.
What these two discs reveal is the volume of material that was recorded for, and left off, many of Dylan's recent albums. "Tell Tale Signs" includes five unique songs axed from "Time Out of Mind," as well as four from 1989's "Oh Mercy."
It is a wonder that some of these songs have never seen the light of day until now. "Dreamin' of You," recorded for "Time Out of Mind," is among the highlights of the collection, boasting a dark ambience befitting its desperation in lyrics like, "Even if the flesh falls off my face / It won't matter as long as you're there." From the same sessions, “Marchin’ to the City” is first-rate blues sketched out in piano and organ and tinged with subtle gospel shadings.
Equally regrettable was that the brilliantly silly "Huck's Tune" ("All the merry little elves / Can go hang themselves / My faith is as cold as can be") was consigned to last year's box-office flop "Lucky You." And perhaps the strongest song featured here—the lovely "Mississippi" appears as two distinct outtakes from "Time Out of Mind"—was vetoed by producer Daniel Lanois before being given to Sheryl Crow and rerecorded by Dylan for "Love and Theft."
However, the general sense is that the cuts were judicious—most of the best material here has already surfaced in some form. "Red River Shore," which appears for the first time here, is formally perfect but bland and unremarkable; it is redeemed only by Jesus (literally), whose healing powers are referenced in the witty closing verse ("I don't know what kind of language he used / Or if they do that kind of thing anymore"). Even more disappointing is "Cross the Green Mountain," the album's closing track, previously released on the soundtrack for civil war film "Gods and Generals." The song collapses under romantic clichés and forced rhymes, as in, "Pride will vanish and glory will rot / But virtues lives and cannot be forgot."
The live tracks are often phenomenal, however, and showcase Dylan’s range as a performer. The version of “High Water” that closes the first disc gels almost instantly, boosted by his ever-exemplary touring band and an almost manic vocal performance which gives extra punch to Dylanisms like, “I’m gettin’ up in the morning—I believe I’ll dust my broom.” In stark contrast, he revives the traditional Appalachian “Girl on the Greenbriar Shore” in a solo acoustic performance recalling his earliest days as a Greenwich Village folkie.
“Tell Tale Signs” contains more than a few pleasant surprises for any Dylan fan. While it isn’t as strong as any of his recent studio albums or the previous volume of the “Bootleg Series,” which similarly reexamined his career through 1966, “Tell Tale Signs” is rich, diverse, and rewarding, ample reminder that Dylan, at 67, just “keeps on keepin’ on.”
Bob Dylan
"Tell Tale Signs"
In a career unrivaled in popular music, Bob Dylan's on yet another high. His 2006 album "Modern Times" was met with nearly universal acclaim, entering the U.S. charts at #1 and subsequently named album of the year by "Rolling Stone." Earlier this year, he was awarded a Pulitzer Prize special citation for the arts.
Riding on this wave is "Tell Tale Signs," the eighth volume of his ongoing "Bootleg Series" and his first collection of unreleased material in two years. "Tell Tale Signs" encompasses outtakes, alternate takes, live tracks, and other rarities from 1989-2006, a period of renewed creativity that yielded not only "Modern Times" but the equally celebrated "Time Out of Mind" (1997) and "Love and Theft" (2001).
Much of this material is hardly new at all—in fact, most of it’s been sitting in the vault for over ten years. Nonetheless, it's very much representative of recent Dylan. His voice is grizzled and craggy. His lyrics spotlight the concerns of aging and mortality even as they reflect a weary, experienced kind of contentment and an often biting sense of humor. His music draws not only on timeless Americana—folk, country, and the blues—but pop balladry circa the early 1900's.
What these two discs reveal is the volume of material that was recorded for, and left off, many of Dylan's recent albums. "Tell Tale Signs" includes five unique songs axed from "Time Out of Mind," as well as four from 1989's "Oh Mercy."
It is a wonder that some of these songs have never seen the light of day until now. "Dreamin' of You," recorded for "Time Out of Mind," is among the highlights of the collection, boasting a dark ambience befitting its desperation in lyrics like, "Even if the flesh falls off my face / It won't matter as long as you're there." From the same sessions, “Marchin’ to the City” is first-rate blues sketched out in piano and organ and tinged with subtle gospel shadings.
Equally regrettable was that the brilliantly silly "Huck's Tune" ("All the merry little elves / Can go hang themselves / My faith is as cold as can be") was consigned to last year's box-office flop "Lucky You." And perhaps the strongest song featured here—the lovely "Mississippi" appears as two distinct outtakes from "Time Out of Mind"—was vetoed by producer Daniel Lanois before being given to Sheryl Crow and rerecorded by Dylan for "Love and Theft."
However, the general sense is that the cuts were judicious—most of the best material here has already surfaced in some form. "Red River Shore," which appears for the first time here, is formally perfect but bland and unremarkable; it is redeemed only by Jesus (literally), whose healing powers are referenced in the witty closing verse ("I don't know what kind of language he used / Or if they do that kind of thing anymore"). Even more disappointing is "Cross the Green Mountain," the album's closing track, previously released on the soundtrack for civil war film "Gods and Generals." The song collapses under romantic clichés and forced rhymes, as in, "Pride will vanish and glory will rot / But virtues lives and cannot be forgot."
The live tracks are often phenomenal, however, and showcase Dylan’s range as a performer. The version of “High Water” that closes the first disc gels almost instantly, boosted by his ever-exemplary touring band and an almost manic vocal performance which gives extra punch to Dylanisms like, “I’m gettin’ up in the morning—I believe I’ll dust my broom.” In stark contrast, he revives the traditional Appalachian “Girl on the Greenbriar Shore” in a solo acoustic performance recalling his earliest days as a Greenwich Village folkie.
“Tell Tale Signs” contains more than a few pleasant surprises for any Dylan fan. While it isn’t as strong as any of his recent studio albums or the previous volume of the “Bootleg Series,” which similarly reexamined his career through 1966, “Tell Tale Signs” is rich, diverse, and rewarding, ample reminder that Dylan, at 67, just “keeps on keepin’ on.”
2008/09/30
[Mike Gordon, 8/29/08 Boulder, CO: NOTES]
[Author's Note: For any who are interested, I've posted the notes, unedited, that I took as I listened to Boulder 2008 and from which I wrote the Voice review. These detail, at length, my reaction song-by-song, blow-by-blow--not purely for myself, though, because there's certainly a suggestion of the piece I was trying to write and especially the audience I was writing for. Phish enthusiasts might be used to reading reviews in this format at phish.net. You'll notice my sanctimonious use of brackets around the title, indicating that this is not a real post. What the hell, though.]
Mike Gordon - bass, vocals
Scott Murawski - guitar, vocals
Todd Isler - drums
Tom Cleary - keyboards, vocals
Craig Myers - percussion, n'goni, vocals
8/29/08 Boulder, CO
ONE SET
*Andelmans' Yard. Funky, polyrhythmic groove right from the outset that belies(?) bright, poppy melody. Murawski plays with fingerpicking-like style. Mike provides wonderful, active counterpoint/response to Murawski, Cleary. The playing and solos are effervescent and largely tight (only occasionally swampy). The chemistry in this band is immediately apparent--a skillful jam band playing cohesively and listening to one another. The singing is (as typical for jam bands) somewhat weaker, but certainly not to the point of distraction. Chromatic, Phish-like conclusion.
Rhymes. A rocker, even a gentle headbanger. Plays cleverly (as the title suggests) with simple rhyming couplets, some of them (cite first lines) from children's songs. More typical blues-derived fare, executed with propulsive energy. Hot licks from Murawski, Cleary on organ, and Mike's typically excellent, bouncy bass playing. >
*Sound. Similar chord progression to Uncle John's Band, incidentally. Vocals are still shaky, and the lyrics may not be to the taste of those not accustomed to hippie-fare. Sounds almost calypso-like, or like Cajun-funk, at points. Traces ancestry to Once in a Lifetime and Ya Mar. Resumes bluesy, darker edge for >
Rhymes. Really cool keyboard playing over riffing in coda. >
*Another Door. DOUBLE SANDWICH! Awesome from the outset, with complex, intricate playing. Another bright number, the Phishiest sounding so far. CRAZY groovy jam after the lyrics portion. Nasally synth-bass (Mike's really heating it up!) underneath Murawski's hot leads. Definite highlight of show so far. Phish could funk it up like this only on their best of days. Modulates (smoothly!) upward for >
No One Receiving. (Brian Eno cover.) Who's singing? Not bad! Cleary really affirms his considerable merit as a keyboardist. Typically awesome jamming with an ambient texture more than suitable for a Brian Eno song. (Same two-chord B-A pattern as Fire on the Mountain, incidentally.) >
(*)Another Door. Pops back into this song (in a completely different key and tempo) in one FLASH moment. Unbelievably smooth transition. It's like they just walked through Another Door. Singing is definitely smoother by this point. Drum roll into the end of an UNBELIEVABLE sequence (about 35 min. long). Mike, being the silly man he is, croons "thank YOOOOOUUUU" into the mic before introducing the band and crew.
Weekly Time. Another funky beginning, with Mike just gurgling up the synth-bass tone, contrasted by Cleary's barroom, country-like playing on piano and country-style vocal harmonies. Reminds me more than a little bit of a Rolling Stones song like Dead Flowers or Let It Bleed, or else a less placid They Love Each Other. Somewhat exceeds the dimensions the song needs, or maybe it's just one of the more typical-sounding songs of the set. >
River Niger. The modal quality evokes English folk, albeit gently funked-up. Cleary's keyboard runs dominate introduction. Murawski plays with some gentle, effective feedback. All instrumental, a beautiful collage of that shimmery, folk-style playing combined with the rhythms of African-dervied funk. Mike largely understated as Cleary takes more sweet runs, this time on organ. >
La La La. A third bright number with that calypso/Cajun feel. Gets considerably darker as the song progresses into minor, slipping into Talking Heads-style groove, during which Mike trots out the synth-bass sound again. Back into major for second vocals. After these, Cleary actually plays the synth-harpsichord. Interesting touch, if a little... hokie? It's inventive, and that's the point. Back on traditional electric piano sounds, with everyone grooving around him, could be mid-70s Herbie Hancock. The song ends in exploratory dissonances, dark, but calling it suspenseful would reduce it to comedy. >
*Traveled Too Far. This feeling definitely carries through here. Craig Myers lays down slow, tribal sounding beat. Another groove that clearly documents a Talking Heads influence in its slow-burning polyrhythms, but their pursuit is looser, jazzier. The n'goni, if that's what it's called, adds some deep undertones to the rhythm section. Bizarre Meet the Flinstones quote/tease! Mike and Murawski (I believe) start vocal jamming it out. Definitely not a melodic number, the first, perhaps, to reject melody. Hits upon different keys, moods, tempos. Murawski might also be quoting Maria, but it could have been accidental. More sudden shift to F minor, Help on the Way feel. Lyrics! Melody! This is the song proper! It took eight minutes of seemingly unrelated grooves to get here. The music is more typically rock, the singing isn't grant, and it's not necessarily a better place to be. Silly lyrics, again perhaps not to the non-Phishhead's taste. Jam out has Murawski sounding very much like Trey, even teasing Antelope! >
Emotional Railroad. More standard pop-rock feel, like latter-day Stones, almost? Cleary's spiraling keyboard solo sounds like a cross between Herbie Hancock and Brent Mydland--and it's excellent! It's amazing what you can do over a pretty pedestrian song. His playing edges out Murawski's which is still wildly excellent and technically crisp--I wonder how often Mike could get Trey to play like that. Mike continues to rip up the basslines, but what else is new? >
I'm Deranged. (David Bowie cover, apparently co-written with Eno.) Darker, funkier, almost electronica-like feel. Sounds like a Bowie song, except with Mike singing. Cleary's picked out a synth-vibe that may or may not be cheesy, but it fits the whole David Bowie dance-tempo thing. >
(*)Traveled Too Far. Back to F minor section. Cleary is the most impressive member of this band. He just is. Love his sound on plain old acoustic piano. Incidentally, this is hardly a concern of today's live recordings, but the sound quality is excellent. Reprise vocals, and Cleary plays Riders on the Storm-like descending pattern over Mike's "thanks for coming out tonight!" Major sequence of the show comes to an end (65 min.).
ENCORE
On A Bad Day. Simple, country-rock feel, straightforward, heartfelt lyrics. All that. >
*Dig Further Down. Another rocker, this one even purer. Murawski's vocals, with their nasty growl, are more typically rock-sounding than Mike's. Cleary tears up another solo, this one getting him to sound like Rick Wakeman! The hardest song of the whole show. This is Murawski's territory, if not mine as much, and he tears into a guitar-god solo with enthusiasm.
* indicates track from The Green Sparrow (5 tracks--half the album!)
(*) - courtesy accidental (ha ha)
No tracks from previous solo album (Inside In), collaborations with Leo Kottke, or Phish.
Mike Gordon - bass, vocals
Scott Murawski - guitar, vocals
Todd Isler - drums
Tom Cleary - keyboards, vocals
Craig Myers - percussion, n'goni, vocals
8/29/08 Boulder, CO
ONE SET
*Andelmans' Yard. Funky, polyrhythmic groove right from the outset that belies(?) bright, poppy melody. Murawski plays with fingerpicking-like style. Mike provides wonderful, active counterpoint/response to Murawski, Cleary. The playing and solos are effervescent and largely tight (only occasionally swampy). The chemistry in this band is immediately apparent--a skillful jam band playing cohesively and listening to one another. The singing is (as typical for jam bands) somewhat weaker, but certainly not to the point of distraction. Chromatic, Phish-like conclusion.
Rhymes. A rocker, even a gentle headbanger. Plays cleverly (as the title suggests) with simple rhyming couplets, some of them (cite first lines) from children's songs. More typical blues-derived fare, executed with propulsive energy. Hot licks from Murawski, Cleary on organ, and Mike's typically excellent, bouncy bass playing. >
*Sound. Similar chord progression to Uncle John's Band, incidentally. Vocals are still shaky, and the lyrics may not be to the taste of those not accustomed to hippie-fare. Sounds almost calypso-like, or like Cajun-funk, at points. Traces ancestry to Once in a Lifetime and Ya Mar. Resumes bluesy, darker edge for >
Rhymes. Really cool keyboard playing over riffing in coda. >
*Another Door. DOUBLE SANDWICH! Awesome from the outset, with complex, intricate playing. Another bright number, the Phishiest sounding so far. CRAZY groovy jam after the lyrics portion. Nasally synth-bass (Mike's really heating it up!) underneath Murawski's hot leads. Definite highlight of show so far. Phish could funk it up like this only on their best of days. Modulates (smoothly!) upward for >
No One Receiving. (Brian Eno cover.) Who's singing? Not bad! Cleary really affirms his considerable merit as a keyboardist. Typically awesome jamming with an ambient texture more than suitable for a Brian Eno song. (Same two-chord B-A pattern as Fire on the Mountain, incidentally.) >
(*)Another Door. Pops back into this song (in a completely different key and tempo) in one FLASH moment. Unbelievably smooth transition. It's like they just walked through Another Door. Singing is definitely smoother by this point. Drum roll into the end of an UNBELIEVABLE sequence (about 35 min. long). Mike, being the silly man he is, croons "thank YOOOOOUUUU" into the mic before introducing the band and crew.
Weekly Time. Another funky beginning, with Mike just gurgling up the synth-bass tone, contrasted by Cleary's barroom, country-like playing on piano and country-style vocal harmonies. Reminds me more than a little bit of a Rolling Stones song like Dead Flowers or Let It Bleed, or else a less placid They Love Each Other. Somewhat exceeds the dimensions the song needs, or maybe it's just one of the more typical-sounding songs of the set. >
River Niger. The modal quality evokes English folk, albeit gently funked-up. Cleary's keyboard runs dominate introduction. Murawski plays with some gentle, effective feedback. All instrumental, a beautiful collage of that shimmery, folk-style playing combined with the rhythms of African-dervied funk. Mike largely understated as Cleary takes more sweet runs, this time on organ. >
La La La. A third bright number with that calypso/Cajun feel. Gets considerably darker as the song progresses into minor, slipping into Talking Heads-style groove, during which Mike trots out the synth-bass sound again. Back into major for second vocals. After these, Cleary actually plays the synth-harpsichord. Interesting touch, if a little... hokie? It's inventive, and that's the point. Back on traditional electric piano sounds, with everyone grooving around him, could be mid-70s Herbie Hancock. The song ends in exploratory dissonances, dark, but calling it suspenseful would reduce it to comedy. >
*Traveled Too Far. This feeling definitely carries through here. Craig Myers lays down slow, tribal sounding beat. Another groove that clearly documents a Talking Heads influence in its slow-burning polyrhythms, but their pursuit is looser, jazzier. The n'goni, if that's what it's called, adds some deep undertones to the rhythm section. Bizarre Meet the Flinstones quote/tease! Mike and Murawski (I believe) start vocal jamming it out. Definitely not a melodic number, the first, perhaps, to reject melody. Hits upon different keys, moods, tempos. Murawski might also be quoting Maria, but it could have been accidental. More sudden shift to F minor, Help on the Way feel. Lyrics! Melody! This is the song proper! It took eight minutes of seemingly unrelated grooves to get here. The music is more typically rock, the singing isn't grant, and it's not necessarily a better place to be. Silly lyrics, again perhaps not to the non-Phishhead's taste. Jam out has Murawski sounding very much like Trey, even teasing Antelope! >
Emotional Railroad. More standard pop-rock feel, like latter-day Stones, almost? Cleary's spiraling keyboard solo sounds like a cross between Herbie Hancock and Brent Mydland--and it's excellent! It's amazing what you can do over a pretty pedestrian song. His playing edges out Murawski's which is still wildly excellent and technically crisp--I wonder how often Mike could get Trey to play like that. Mike continues to rip up the basslines, but what else is new? >
I'm Deranged. (David Bowie cover, apparently co-written with Eno.) Darker, funkier, almost electronica-like feel. Sounds like a Bowie song, except with Mike singing. Cleary's picked out a synth-vibe that may or may not be cheesy, but it fits the whole David Bowie dance-tempo thing. >
(*)Traveled Too Far. Back to F minor section. Cleary is the most impressive member of this band. He just is. Love his sound on plain old acoustic piano. Incidentally, this is hardly a concern of today's live recordings, but the sound quality is excellent. Reprise vocals, and Cleary plays Riders on the Storm-like descending pattern over Mike's "thanks for coming out tonight!" Major sequence of the show comes to an end (65 min.).
ENCORE
On A Bad Day. Simple, country-rock feel, straightforward, heartfelt lyrics. All that. >
*Dig Further Down. Another rocker, this one even purer. Murawski's vocals, with their nasty growl, are more typically rock-sounding than Mike's. Cleary tears up another solo, this one getting him to sound like Rick Wakeman! The hardest song of the whole show. This is Murawski's territory, if not mine as much, and he tears into a guitar-god solo with enthusiasm.
* indicates track from The Green Sparrow (5 tracks--half the album!)
(*) - courtesy accidental (ha ha)
No tracks from previous solo album (Inside In), collaborations with Leo Kottke, or Phish.
Mike Gordon, 8/29/08 Boulder, CO
[Author's Note: This review will be published in Friday's edition of the Wooster Voice.]
Mike Gordon
Boulder 2008
2008 has proven the best year for fans of Phish since the jam band's 2004 breakup. Court-ordered rehabilitation now behind him, guitarist Trey Anastasio has been writing and performing with renewed vigor. In a letter posted on the band's website, pianist Page McConnell confirmed rumors that the four plan on getting together by the end of the year and exploring their options—even the possibility of a reunion.
But mostly, 2008 has been Mike Gordon's year. The Phish bassist released his second solo album, The Green Sparrow, on August 5th to considerable acclaim and toured throughout the summer with what a new live album reveals to be a top-notch supporting band.
Boulder 2008 comprises this band's two-hour set, uncut, from August 29th at the Fox Theatre in Boulder, Colorado. Gordon is joined by guitarist and long-time collaborator Scott Murawski of fellow jam band Max Creek, as well as by Tom Cleary on keyboards, Todd Isler on drums, and Craig Myers on percussion.
The band's potent chemistry is apparent from the first notes of the show's opener, “Andelman's Yard,” one of five cuts from The Green Sparrow. Here they lay down a funky, polyrhythmic groove that belies the song's bright, poppy melody—it is this juxtaposition, but especially the deep, sometimes jittery funk, that sets the tone for the evening.
The playing is uniformly excellent. This is a band that, like Phish at its best, performs as a tight, cohesive unit—musicians who can listen to each other—which isn't to say that they don't shine individually. Cleary's keyboard playing steals the show for me. It's rich, clear, and precise, and draws on a spectrum of influences from Herbie Hancock to legendary session musician Nikki Hopkins, from Rick Wakeman of Yes to the Grateful Dead's Brent Mydland. One can even forgive him for using an overabundance of synthesizer voices, down to a synth-harpsichord on “La La La.” Murawski is a fine guitarist, though he favors a bluesier edge that occasionally feels lost within the funk.
The singing isn't nearly as strong—shaky, with a few moments of redemption (as on a cover of Brian Eno's “No One Receiving”). Similarly, the originals, however fun and well-crafted, are hardly gems of songwriting (the lyrics, in particular, may put off those unaccustomed to hippie-fare). On the whole, given the predominance of jamming, neither complaint is a huge strike against the performance.
After the standalone opener, the set unfolds in two long, seamless sequences of music. In the first comes the highlight of the entire show, “Another Door,” also off The Green Sparrow. After Gordon positively tears through a nasally, synth-bass groove, the band modulates smoothly into the cool, ambient “No One Receiving” before returning to “Another Door” in a single, flash moment as if they'd never left it. It is truly a breathtaking musical accomplishment.
Similarly, the extended “Traveled Too Far” is the capstone of the second, sixty-five minute sequence. Craig Myers's percussion provides a slow-burning, African-derived undercurrent that recalls the Talking Heads circa Remain in Light, but this band's pursuit is looser and jazzier. They flirt with and reject different themes, moods, tempos—quoting everything from Leonard Bernstein's “Maria” to Phish's own “Run Like an Antelope”—before snapping into the song proper after eight full minutes.
A cover of David Bowie's “I'm Deranged,” which attempts a danceable, electronica-like vibe, is the only song of the set that falls flat. To the musicians' credit, it sounds like mid-90s Bowie, which is also precisely why it feels out of place.
Boulder 2008 is by and large an excellent show, one which is both adroit and adventurous, accessible and imaginative. For fans of improvisational music, whether rock or funk or jazz, it is highly recommended. Boulder 2008 is available for download, or may be pre-ordered on CD, at livephish.com.
Mike Gordon
Boulder 2008
2008 has proven the best year for fans of Phish since the jam band's 2004 breakup. Court-ordered rehabilitation now behind him, guitarist Trey Anastasio has been writing and performing with renewed vigor. In a letter posted on the band's website, pianist Page McConnell confirmed rumors that the four plan on getting together by the end of the year and exploring their options—even the possibility of a reunion.
But mostly, 2008 has been Mike Gordon's year. The Phish bassist released his second solo album, The Green Sparrow, on August 5th to considerable acclaim and toured throughout the summer with what a new live album reveals to be a top-notch supporting band.
Boulder 2008 comprises this band's two-hour set, uncut, from August 29th at the Fox Theatre in Boulder, Colorado. Gordon is joined by guitarist and long-time collaborator Scott Murawski of fellow jam band Max Creek, as well as by Tom Cleary on keyboards, Todd Isler on drums, and Craig Myers on percussion.
The band's potent chemistry is apparent from the first notes of the show's opener, “Andelman's Yard,” one of five cuts from The Green Sparrow. Here they lay down a funky, polyrhythmic groove that belies the song's bright, poppy melody—it is this juxtaposition, but especially the deep, sometimes jittery funk, that sets the tone for the evening.
The playing is uniformly excellent. This is a band that, like Phish at its best, performs as a tight, cohesive unit—musicians who can listen to each other—which isn't to say that they don't shine individually. Cleary's keyboard playing steals the show for me. It's rich, clear, and precise, and draws on a spectrum of influences from Herbie Hancock to legendary session musician Nikki Hopkins, from Rick Wakeman of Yes to the Grateful Dead's Brent Mydland. One can even forgive him for using an overabundance of synthesizer voices, down to a synth-harpsichord on “La La La.” Murawski is a fine guitarist, though he favors a bluesier edge that occasionally feels lost within the funk.
The singing isn't nearly as strong—shaky, with a few moments of redemption (as on a cover of Brian Eno's “No One Receiving”). Similarly, the originals, however fun and well-crafted, are hardly gems of songwriting (the lyrics, in particular, may put off those unaccustomed to hippie-fare). On the whole, given the predominance of jamming, neither complaint is a huge strike against the performance.
After the standalone opener, the set unfolds in two long, seamless sequences of music. In the first comes the highlight of the entire show, “Another Door,” also off The Green Sparrow. After Gordon positively tears through a nasally, synth-bass groove, the band modulates smoothly into the cool, ambient “No One Receiving” before returning to “Another Door” in a single, flash moment as if they'd never left it. It is truly a breathtaking musical accomplishment.
Similarly, the extended “Traveled Too Far” is the capstone of the second, sixty-five minute sequence. Craig Myers's percussion provides a slow-burning, African-derived undercurrent that recalls the Talking Heads circa Remain in Light, but this band's pursuit is looser and jazzier. They flirt with and reject different themes, moods, tempos—quoting everything from Leonard Bernstein's “Maria” to Phish's own “Run Like an Antelope”—before snapping into the song proper after eight full minutes.
A cover of David Bowie's “I'm Deranged,” which attempts a danceable, electronica-like vibe, is the only song of the set that falls flat. To the musicians' credit, it sounds like mid-90s Bowie, which is also precisely why it feels out of place.
Boulder 2008 is by and large an excellent show, one which is both adroit and adventurous, accessible and imaginative. For fans of improvisational music, whether rock or funk or jazz, it is highly recommended. Boulder 2008 is available for download, or may be pre-ordered on CD, at livephish.com.
2008/07/20
In Defense of the Grateful Dead
[Author's Note: I wrote this brief essay back in December for my application to Colby College. The Rachel Carson quote is the single link to the prompt, which is why I didn't quite dare to rectify her opposing verb tenses. I thought this might serve as a good first post, as I intend to write a great deal about the Grateful Dead and other music/art with somewhat selective appeal—for all that, this is an exposition, an appreciation, and a defense.]
There’s this very common joke: What did the Deadhead say when the drugs ran out? Punch line: This music sucks! I’ve always found this joke rather tiresome, and not only as a slur on music I love; like most jokes that operate on wild stereotyping, it clearly doesn’t reflect much knowledge of its subject. Plenty of Grateful Dead (1965-95, R.I.P.) concertgoers avoided the drug scene altogether—most fans were there for the music. And no one who gives the music a ready ear can call it anything but what it is—vibrant, bold, and heartfelt. In fact, the first adjective I associate with the Grateful Dead is beautiful.
Certainly, their songs have an obvious beauty, built as they were on warm harmonies, memorable progressions, rich instrumentation, and considerable sentiment. The Grateful Dead weren’t out to shatter traditional songwriting forms. Many compositions even have an antiquated feel, like they might have stepped out of a sepia photograph. From the shimmering ebullience of “Eyes of the World” to the exhausted pathos of “Brokedown Palace,” beauty abounds.
But there is another type of beauty—a wilder, more elusive species—that was the heart and soul a Grateful Dead concert. When Rachel Carson observed that “one way to open your eyes to unnoticed beauty is to ask yourself, ‘What if I have never seen this before? What if I knew I would never see it again?’” she might easily have been referring to the Grateful Dead. The magic of the concert experience was not chemicals—it was a shared understanding between performers and audience that they were opening their eyes to beauty, to something in a passing moment that could be grasped only once before it was gone. The loose structure of concerts allowed the band to explore the deepest crevices of each song, as well as the space between songs, and at every show this attention to the moment blossomed in something beautiful and unique. Take one night’s (9/21/72) segue between “Dark Star” and “Morning Dew”—after twenty minutes chasing tricky, undulating jazz, the band suddenly find themselves in a crystalline, sparkling bluegrass jam. The spontaneity of it is like sunrise. In thirty years, the band played 2,317 concerts, and no two are alike. The moment is there, and then it’s gone.
Fortunately, the Grateful Dead came along at just the right crossroads of technology—they were playing to an audience, not to a studio engineer, but since recording equipment was nearly always on hand, many of their concerts were preserved for future listeners. A quick comparison between the rough-hewn spark of these tapes and the relative sterility of their studio work further affirms the essentiality of live performance. The Grateful Dead were built on that oldest relationship between artist and audience—sharing one space at the same time—in a century where the two grew ever farther apart.
There’s this very common joke: What did the Deadhead say when the drugs ran out? Punch line: This music sucks! I’ve always found this joke rather tiresome, and not only as a slur on music I love; like most jokes that operate on wild stereotyping, it clearly doesn’t reflect much knowledge of its subject. Plenty of Grateful Dead (1965-95, R.I.P.) concertgoers avoided the drug scene altogether—most fans were there for the music. And no one who gives the music a ready ear can call it anything but what it is—vibrant, bold, and heartfelt. In fact, the first adjective I associate with the Grateful Dead is beautiful.
Certainly, their songs have an obvious beauty, built as they were on warm harmonies, memorable progressions, rich instrumentation, and considerable sentiment. The Grateful Dead weren’t out to shatter traditional songwriting forms. Many compositions even have an antiquated feel, like they might have stepped out of a sepia photograph. From the shimmering ebullience of “Eyes of the World” to the exhausted pathos of “Brokedown Palace,” beauty abounds.
But there is another type of beauty—a wilder, more elusive species—that was the heart and soul a Grateful Dead concert. When Rachel Carson observed that “one way to open your eyes to unnoticed beauty is to ask yourself, ‘What if I have never seen this before? What if I knew I would never see it again?’” she might easily have been referring to the Grateful Dead. The magic of the concert experience was not chemicals—it was a shared understanding between performers and audience that they were opening their eyes to beauty, to something in a passing moment that could be grasped only once before it was gone. The loose structure of concerts allowed the band to explore the deepest crevices of each song, as well as the space between songs, and at every show this attention to the moment blossomed in something beautiful and unique. Take one night’s (9/21/72) segue between “Dark Star” and “Morning Dew”—after twenty minutes chasing tricky, undulating jazz, the band suddenly find themselves in a crystalline, sparkling bluegrass jam. The spontaneity of it is like sunrise. In thirty years, the band played 2,317 concerts, and no two are alike. The moment is there, and then it’s gone.
Fortunately, the Grateful Dead came along at just the right crossroads of technology—they were playing to an audience, not to a studio engineer, but since recording equipment was nearly always on hand, many of their concerts were preserved for future listeners. A quick comparison between the rough-hewn spark of these tapes and the relative sterility of their studio work further affirms the essentiality of live performance. The Grateful Dead were built on that oldest relationship between artist and audience—sharing one space at the same time—in a century where the two grew ever farther apart.
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