For sound adventurers in the early days of stereo, no one’s musical arrangements fit the bill like Esquivel’s. They make Enoch Light’s close-miked percussive stuff on Command sound like punk-rock.
As on Money Jungle, a United Artists release recently reissued by Classic and reviewed on this site, this record puts Duke Ellington in a rare trio setting, this time with the percussive anchor Sam Woodyard on drums and Aaron Bell on bass—the Ellington orchestra’s rhythm section.
Analogue Productions’ third series of limited edition 45rpm 180 gram “twofers” will surely be as popular as the first two sets, with key titles selling out and fetching big bucks on the used market. The musically well-balanced offerings from the Riverside, Pablo and Prestige catalogs controlled by Fantasy Records include The Tony Bennett Bill Evans Album, Bill Evans’ How My Heart Sings and Interplay, Miles Davis’s Workin’ and many other long sought after jazz and blues titles.
Daniel Lanois begins this instrumental excursion with a great wash of flanged psychedelic backwash, ribbed with pedal steel guitar in an upward thrust of musical birth that oozes from the speakers like sonic Cool-Whip.
For some reason, audio enthusiasts have a need to latch onto female vocalists with a passion that borders on the fanatical. Once they find her, they never let go. The careers of Amanda McBroom, Jennifer Warnes, Diana Krall and Janis Ian have all benefited from this compulsive/obsessive behavior. I have nothing against it. I just find it fascinating.
Sad but true: a generation of white Americans first came to know the blues—a black American art form—by hearing it played second-hand thanks to the dedication of die-hard British blues enthusiasts like Long John Baldry, John Mayall, Eric Clapton, and of course, Fleetwood Mac’s Peter Green. The list goes on.
These ten acoustic tunes cut by Buddy Guy on 6 and 12 string guitar, and Junior Wells on harmonica back in 1981 during a visit to Sysmo Studios in Paris, France states the case for the acoustic blues as well as any album I can think of, but if you’re not into the genre, don’t expect this reissue to pull you around. Well, take that back: the sound may drag you in.
Back in the 1970's, your editor (me!) was doing stand-up comedy at colleges around the country. In the fall of 1976 I was invited to perform at Ithaca College. Since I was a Cornell alumnus (1969) I really looked forward to the visit. At the time I had a pet Coatimundi—a racoon like animal that ranges from Oklahoma, through Arizona, Mexico and points south. Look it up and you'll see a "stretch racoon" with a cartoon-like face. His name was Jeepy—named by a friend for Popeye's imaginary friend The Jeep, which he sort of resembled.
The problem with “greatest hits” packages issued by (or for) by rock artists who flourished during the golden age of album artistry (1967-1991 give or take a few) is that they inevitably shortchange the musician and the music-not to mention the fans.
As with William Shatner's infamous cover of “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds,” Paul Anka's big band cover of Nirvana's “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was not meant to be a goof. However, unlike Shatner's mangling, Anka pulls it off brilliantly, thanks in part to the suave, sensitive arrangements, but mostly because the Vegas veteran clearly takes the tunes seriously and sees their intrinsic musical and lyrical merit. Whoever did the A&R work made inspired choices as the mix of tunes is eclectic and sometimes daring.