When I was at summer camp (right after the fourth grade), I decided to showcase my burgeoning singing skills at a solo performance at the talent show in front of the swimming pool. My plan was to sing some pop ballad karaoke style and wow everyone with my dulcet tones. As soon as the first strains wafted over the expectant crowd, my jaw locked and my eyes began to tear.
"Are you gonna sing?" asked the smarmy kid in the front row in Hawaiian shorts. He was a fifth grader. I shook my head, terrified. "Are you gonna cry?" he prodded with unmasked glee. I nodded, eyes brimming and ran off stage, where I spent the remainder of the talent show watching everyone else perform their brilliant and well rehearsed pieces.
That brief moment was perfectly reflective of my career as a singer, which is why whenever I see exceptionally talented female artists/singer-songwriters, which seems to be the case as of late, I find my appreciation slightly tinged with envy. Such was the case tonight as I watched the lovely and Icelandic Emiliana Torrini.
I was introduced to the songstress through her vocalist work with Thievery Corporation, her charmingly and ambiguously accented voice fluttering above the DC duos world dub beats. So it was to my great pleasure when I received her sophomore effort Me and Armini and found nearly the entire thing to my liking.
The more I find out about Emiliana, the more I like her. She has an impressive resume; she was a member of electronic outfit GusGus, has toured with the likes of Moby and Dido, and garnered a Grammy nomination for co-writing and producing Kylie Minogue's "Slow," which is a killer pop track, and released her trip hop debut Love in the Time of Science on Virgin in 1999. Knowing all of this, it comes as something of a surprise that Me and Armini is a rather successful departure into folk waters, though there are clear influences of reggae, trip hop and jazz in different songs. Her voice, which is sweet and, according to those with more technical knowledge than me, of limited range lends itself well to an organic, unplugged sound and the overall effect is lovely and feminine, but in such a way that it becomes quickly clear that she is most definitely a musician. And she quietly rocks.
In the intimate and somewhat surreal setting of the Standard Hollywood's Cactus Lounge, Emiliana quietly introduced each song in her acoustic set, explaining the songwriting process. Poised as she was as a singer, she (quite adorably) shied away from the mike, fidgeting bashfully as she explained that she had no recollection of writing the title track, and that Armini was a friend that she had made in her whiskey. Liquid inspiration or not, "Me and Armini" remains one of the strongest tracks on the album, backed with reggae rhythm guitars for a more exotic sound. She was kind enough to play some of my other favorite tracks from the album, introducing the cautious and pared down "Big Jumps" as a song for people to who were brave enough to be happy. But the song that truly moved the crowd (and coincidentally is one of the album's singles) was the fast paced and buoyant (at least in comparison to the rest of the album) "Jungle Drum." It is indeed a love song, and made all the more endearing by the fact that she acknowledges that it is nowhere near poetry, before going on and singing the onomatopoeia of the jungle drum beat with all her heart.
Check her MySpace.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Zee Avi - self-titled album and March 27, 2009 Hotel Cafe Show
Being positively inundated on a day to day basis with singer-songwriter submissions, I've taken a jaded approach to the genre, admittedly being much quicker to decide I'm unimpressed by a guy/girl and their guitar. Which is why I was doubly impressed with Zee Avi and the fact that she grabbed my attention so quickly and kept it. As soon as I heard her sweet, and almost childishly simplistic single "Bitter Heart," which effortlessly and cheerfully touches on that delicate post heartbreak state I was immediately compelled to find out as much about her as possible and acquire her album.
There is a calmness and ease in her music that I usually associate with prolific surfer turned platinum artist Jack Johnson. Which makes sense, as the Malaysian singer songwriter is currently signed to his Brushfire Records label. Brushfire was started so that Jack Johnson and his mellow (and undoubtedly hot) surfer friends could put out music they liked. To date, Zee Avi is the only female solo artist on the label and I'm happy to say she can hold her own with the boys and remains one of my favorites on the label.
As it turned out, Zee Avi happened to be playing at the wonderfully intimate Hotel Cafe tonight which is one of my favorite venues - small, dark, and red, it's so cozy it could probably make sex up mediocre music, though I've only seen really good artists there. Hotel Cafe magic or not, Zee Avi was simply delightful. She was as poised in her banter as in her music, and the transition from talking to singing barely registered in her voice, which in my opinion, is a mark of a singer who has found their true singing voice. She moved with ease between the guitar and the ukulele and treated the audience like a living room full of friends she had just given a hug to, which quite frankly, I just might have done if I had the chance to embarrass myself.
Though her entire set was lovely, with her jazz tinged acoustic numbers boasting just the right amount of charm and poignancy and sounding every bit as crisp as the recorded versions, the crowning jewel to me were her covers. A well placed cover, especially an unexpected one, can tell you a lot about an artist's tastes and influences, and woo you with the familiarity doctored by the artist's personal style. Zee Avi has an unexpected taste for the post punk gothic sound I'm so obsessed with; she performed Morrissey's "First of the Gang to Die," as a wistful ballad, which appears on her album. What surprised me, however, was the gorgeous rendition of Interpol's "Slow Hands" that, when slowed down and stripped away of guitars with distortion, showcased the lyrics, which are quite poetic.
As I haven't been this excited about a female solo artist since Adele, I can only hope that Zee Avi's career takes a similar arc as she continues to quietly rock.
Hear what all the buzz is about.
There is a calmness and ease in her music that I usually associate with prolific surfer turned platinum artist Jack Johnson. Which makes sense, as the Malaysian singer songwriter is currently signed to his Brushfire Records label. Brushfire was started so that Jack Johnson and his mellow (and undoubtedly hot) surfer friends could put out music they liked. To date, Zee Avi is the only female solo artist on the label and I'm happy to say she can hold her own with the boys and remains one of my favorites on the label.
As it turned out, Zee Avi happened to be playing at the wonderfully intimate Hotel Cafe tonight which is one of my favorite venues - small, dark, and red, it's so cozy it could probably make sex up mediocre music, though I've only seen really good artists there. Hotel Cafe magic or not, Zee Avi was simply delightful. She was as poised in her banter as in her music, and the transition from talking to singing barely registered in her voice, which in my opinion, is a mark of a singer who has found their true singing voice. She moved with ease between the guitar and the ukulele and treated the audience like a living room full of friends she had just given a hug to, which quite frankly, I just might have done if I had the chance to embarrass myself.
Though her entire set was lovely, with her jazz tinged acoustic numbers boasting just the right amount of charm and poignancy and sounding every bit as crisp as the recorded versions, the crowning jewel to me were her covers. A well placed cover, especially an unexpected one, can tell you a lot about an artist's tastes and influences, and woo you with the familiarity doctored by the artist's personal style. Zee Avi has an unexpected taste for the post punk gothic sound I'm so obsessed with; she performed Morrissey's "First of the Gang to Die," as a wistful ballad, which appears on her album. What surprised me, however, was the gorgeous rendition of Interpol's "Slow Hands" that, when slowed down and stripped away of guitars with distortion, showcased the lyrics, which are quite poetic.
As I haven't been this excited about a female solo artist since Adele, I can only hope that Zee Avi's career takes a similar arc as she continues to quietly rock.
Hear what all the buzz is about.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Joy Division / New Order / White Lies
I saw the film Control last night for the first time. Despite being rather depressing, this movie brought me a serious amount of joy. After four years in the music industry, and one of those being in Manchester, there was something that struck home. The classic record deal, the rolling Northern English accents, and the black and white portrayal of rain, pints, cigarettes, and dank underwhelming venues all touched my heart.
And that's really what the post-punk and Manchester music scene are really about to me - a rainy, dark, gloomy sound from a rainy, dark, gloomy place and born out of the raw, often angry, and always angsty punk scene. Having a broad range of music to listen to and being easily influenced by sounds, I find it difficult to listen to angsty music all the time. That being said, when a melancholy mood strikes, I relish being able to wrap myself in glorious Mancunian gloom, wear extra eyeliner, and revel in rich croonings from across the pond.
"Control" reminded me of my first affair with "Love Will Tear Us Apart" - the song that first piqued my interest in Joy Division (before I knew they had anything to do with New Order). Though there is that vaguely tinny production sound that is present in all of Joy Division's songs and most punk from before their era for that matter, there is a sweetness to it that I find more reminiscent of New Order. Beneath the guitars, you can hear the almost naive and hesitant synth backing it, showing the evolution of the band's sound towards what New Order would become famous for, even before the death of Ian Curtis.
It was that emotional border between post punk and dance music that caused me to fall in love with New Order's "Temptation" (on a dancefloor no less), long before I understood what Manchester music, Factory Records, or the Hacienda were really about. And as a pop music whore, I'm happy to say I hear that same sound evolving in artists like Hot Chip, Cut Copy, and Friendly Fires.
And while I may lean more towards the New Order sound than the Joy Division sound in my everyday listening, I have a selective collection of artists I save for gloomy days. These limited spaces are occupied by the likes of (Joy Division of course), Interpol and Editors, and this year, I was thrilled to add White Lies to that list. Though they're Londoners, they site Northerners like Joy Divsion and Echo and the Bunnymen as influences, and I think they easily do justice to their predecessors. One listen to Harry McVeighs somber vocals singing songs entitled "Death," and "Lose My Life," (my fav) with creepy echoes, heavy distortion and foggy echoes and I had found my new depression obsession. And I'm not the only one - the amount of buzz accumulating for this band, in addition to their playing both SXSW and Coachella this year makes me think that they're poised for success, and likely in multiple realms due to a slew of of singles and remixes strategically released into the blogosphere. Like their post punk turned dance predecessors, White Lies' gloom lends itself to dance rhythms as well, notably Rory Phillips' disco tinged dancefloor stormer remix of "Farewell to the Fairgrounds."
So if you're going through a breakup, depressed about the recession, or maybe just in a bad mood, instead of trying to fight it, embrace it, spend some time on iTunes and Hype Machine and listen to White Lies. If you don't feel better, at least you'll feel better about your decision to stay bummed.
While I don't know when White Lies' US debut To Lose My Life is slated to release, I can only imagine/hope that it will be at some point prior to their upcoming US tour. It doesn't even say on their MySpace, but I would stay posted. . .
And that's really what the post-punk and Manchester music scene are really about to me - a rainy, dark, gloomy sound from a rainy, dark, gloomy place and born out of the raw, often angry, and always angsty punk scene. Having a broad range of music to listen to and being easily influenced by sounds, I find it difficult to listen to angsty music all the time. That being said, when a melancholy mood strikes, I relish being able to wrap myself in glorious Mancunian gloom, wear extra eyeliner, and revel in rich croonings from across the pond.
"Control" reminded me of my first affair with "Love Will Tear Us Apart" - the song that first piqued my interest in Joy Division (before I knew they had anything to do with New Order). Though there is that vaguely tinny production sound that is present in all of Joy Division's songs and most punk from before their era for that matter, there is a sweetness to it that I find more reminiscent of New Order. Beneath the guitars, you can hear the almost naive and hesitant synth backing it, showing the evolution of the band's sound towards what New Order would become famous for, even before the death of Ian Curtis.
It was that emotional border between post punk and dance music that caused me to fall in love with New Order's "Temptation" (on a dancefloor no less), long before I understood what Manchester music, Factory Records, or the Hacienda were really about. And as a pop music whore, I'm happy to say I hear that same sound evolving in artists like Hot Chip, Cut Copy, and Friendly Fires.
And while I may lean more towards the New Order sound than the Joy Division sound in my everyday listening, I have a selective collection of artists I save for gloomy days. These limited spaces are occupied by the likes of (Joy Division of course), Interpol and Editors, and this year, I was thrilled to add White Lies to that list. Though they're Londoners, they site Northerners like Joy Divsion and Echo and the Bunnymen as influences, and I think they easily do justice to their predecessors. One listen to Harry McVeighs somber vocals singing songs entitled "Death," and "Lose My Life," (my fav) with creepy echoes, heavy distortion and foggy echoes and I had found my new depression obsession. And I'm not the only one - the amount of buzz accumulating for this band, in addition to their playing both SXSW and Coachella this year makes me think that they're poised for success, and likely in multiple realms due to a slew of of singles and remixes strategically released into the blogosphere. Like their post punk turned dance predecessors, White Lies' gloom lends itself to dance rhythms as well, notably Rory Phillips' disco tinged dancefloor stormer remix of "Farewell to the Fairgrounds."
So if you're going through a breakup, depressed about the recession, or maybe just in a bad mood, instead of trying to fight it, embrace it, spend some time on iTunes and Hype Machine and listen to White Lies. If you don't feel better, at least you'll feel better about your decision to stay bummed.
While I don't know when White Lies' US debut To Lose My Life is slated to release, I can only imagine/hope that it will be at some point prior to their upcoming US tour. It doesn't even say on their MySpace, but I would stay posted. . .
Monday, February 23, 2009
Herve & Kissy Sell Out "Rikkalicious"
I have to give kudos to a mix by none other than the DJs of Manctastic club collective known as Shoplifters for turning me onto this tune and reminding me that house music is my heartbeat. While I was already familiar with Kissy Sell Out for his prolific remixing and independent record label holding, I knew nothing of Herve. After doing a little research (ahem, looking at his Myspace page) I discovered his more familiar alter ego The Count, whose done some work with Sinden. If you've never heard of either, it just means that he's cool.
Regardless, "Rikkalicious" doesn't sound much like either Kissy Sell Out's or Herve's signature ghetto booty beat sounds - though both producers display an ability move throughout the electronic sphere with chameleon like ease.
In the case of "Rikkalicious," the two producers have nostalgically paid homage to the 90's roots of electronic music, when house and trance used to hang out together because they didn't know any better. There is an unabashed and anthemic trance groove in this tune, (tarted up with a bit of analog synths but essentially pure) that make for that orgasmic build up which leads to the inevitable fist pump that is the reason I fell in love with dance music.
Everything about this song is just right from the quirky blippy bit to do a glowstick show (if you're into that sort of thing), to the lush female vocals looped in, true to the disco roots of house. While the club mix provides a heightened dance floor experience, I have to hand it to the hefty 12" mix; clocking in at a lovely 7:26, it allows the listener a perfect amount of time to get into the groove and finishes with an unhurried, blissful outro that acts like a cool down after the adrenaline rush.
Check it.
Regardless, "Rikkalicious" doesn't sound much like either Kissy Sell Out's or Herve's signature ghetto booty beat sounds - though both producers display an ability move throughout the electronic sphere with chameleon like ease.
In the case of "Rikkalicious," the two producers have nostalgically paid homage to the 90's roots of electronic music, when house and trance used to hang out together because they didn't know any better. There is an unabashed and anthemic trance groove in this tune, (tarted up with a bit of analog synths but essentially pure) that make for that orgasmic build up which leads to the inevitable fist pump that is the reason I fell in love with dance music.
Everything about this song is just right from the quirky blippy bit to do a glowstick show (if you're into that sort of thing), to the lush female vocals looped in, true to the disco roots of house. While the club mix provides a heightened dance floor experience, I have to hand it to the hefty 12" mix; clocking in at a lovely 7:26, it allows the listener a perfect amount of time to get into the groove and finishes with an unhurried, blissful outro that acts like a cool down after the adrenaline rush.
Check it.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Kailash Kher - "Dilruba"
I have to thank this discovery to Morning Becomes Eclectic on KCRW. Every time I get too jaded with Morning Becomes Eclectic thinking that I'm too hip/knowledgeable to be impressed by their content, there's a song that comes on leaving me itching to find out the name, and humbling me from backseat DJ back to average listener.
As soon as I heard the first strains of "Dilruba," I was convinced it was Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan song remixed. I turned up the volume and realized that there was no electronic production, and no fancy tricks with the instrumentals; merely playful syncopation, and an undulating rhythm that sounded so fresh I wondered if Nusrat hadn't collaborated with some hip producer towards the end of his life and career.
So it was to my great surprise when I found out that this gem was by Kailash Kher, a succesful Indian pop and Sufi singer today, who is actually a judge for Indian Idol (which is exactly what it sounds like.) True to his sound and his genre, Kailash claims Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan as a great inspiration, which warmed my heart. While I know nothing about Sufi music, I do remember one of the songs that initially got me interested in world music (and remains one of my favorite songs of all time to this day), found on a mixtape given to my parents by a groundbreaking DJ who would later become my boss and mentor.
The song was Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan's "Mustt a Mustt," which grabbed me with the perfectly restrained raw power of Nusrat's vocals, as well as the meditative chanting and a rhythm that I now know sounds a bit like reggae. It's so beautifully calming, I think that when trip-hop legends Massive Attack remixed the original, it was partially out of jealousy for not having recreated the chilled out vibe electronically, despite being chillout masters.
All the elements of a Nusrat tune are there in "Dilruba" - the gently lulling rhythm, tranquil backing chorus and tightly controlled quivering vocals. Yet Kailash's voice is younger, more polished, with a distinctly pop finish, and his instrumental section is fuller and richer. In this case, newer isn't necessarily better than - rather, "Dilruba" is a perfect example of a evolved touches on a traditional genre with a respectful acknowledgment of its master.
Sidenote: I've listened to this at least twenty times today, and each time I listen, I love this song a little more because of its devotional aspect. I find it fascinating that a devotional singer can reach such a level of popularity, especially one so integrated with even the secular side of a culture. While part of me wants to look up the meaning of the lyrics, another part of me (the part of me that will win) doesn't care. There's something primal (and dare I say mystical) about not analyzing and being able to listen to music from another religion (especially one at such odds with my own) and allowing myself only to appreciate its beauty and be moved by whatever parts of it I do understand.
Listen.
As soon as I heard the first strains of "Dilruba," I was convinced it was Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan song remixed. I turned up the volume and realized that there was no electronic production, and no fancy tricks with the instrumentals; merely playful syncopation, and an undulating rhythm that sounded so fresh I wondered if Nusrat hadn't collaborated with some hip producer towards the end of his life and career.
So it was to my great surprise when I found out that this gem was by Kailash Kher, a succesful Indian pop and Sufi singer today, who is actually a judge for Indian Idol (which is exactly what it sounds like.) True to his sound and his genre, Kailash claims Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan as a great inspiration, which warmed my heart. While I know nothing about Sufi music, I do remember one of the songs that initially got me interested in world music (and remains one of my favorite songs of all time to this day), found on a mixtape given to my parents by a groundbreaking DJ who would later become my boss and mentor.
The song was Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan's "Mustt a Mustt," which grabbed me with the perfectly restrained raw power of Nusrat's vocals, as well as the meditative chanting and a rhythm that I now know sounds a bit like reggae. It's so beautifully calming, I think that when trip-hop legends Massive Attack remixed the original, it was partially out of jealousy for not having recreated the chilled out vibe electronically, despite being chillout masters.
All the elements of a Nusrat tune are there in "Dilruba" - the gently lulling rhythm, tranquil backing chorus and tightly controlled quivering vocals. Yet Kailash's voice is younger, more polished, with a distinctly pop finish, and his instrumental section is fuller and richer. In this case, newer isn't necessarily better than - rather, "Dilruba" is a perfect example of a evolved touches on a traditional genre with a respectful acknowledgment of its master.
Sidenote: I've listened to this at least twenty times today, and each time I listen, I love this song a little more because of its devotional aspect. I find it fascinating that a devotional singer can reach such a level of popularity, especially one so integrated with even the secular side of a culture. While part of me wants to look up the meaning of the lyrics, another part of me (the part of me that will win) doesn't care. There's something primal (and dare I say mystical) about not analyzing and being able to listen to music from another religion (especially one at such odds with my own) and allowing myself only to appreciate its beauty and be moved by whatever parts of it I do understand.
Listen.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Amadou and Mariam - Welcome to Mali (album)
As a commuter, music is essential to my daily experience. Without it, the hours spent in the car can be dull, and feel like wasted time with unsatisfactory snippets of tired songs on the radio, or another hour with an album I've listened to one too many times. Until I come across an album like "Welcome to Mali" - an album so perfect it begs to be savored with motion and an incredible VW Jetta sound system.
Yes, I know that "perfect," is a very lavish term of praise. But I loved "Welcome to Mali" that much. To date, I have spent many hours behind the wheel contemplating just what words to choose to describe this wonderfully bright, happy album which turns something as mundane as a commute into a tolerable, if not enjoyable experience.
I fell in love with this joyous blind couple's music on the Manu Chao produced "Dimanche a Bamako." It had the signautre stamp of Manu Chao, with bold strokes of color, Manu's distinctive nasal backing vocals, and the natural talent and organic sounds of Amadou and Mariam. The album remains one of my favorite albums of all time to this day. Desperate for more, I had a listen to their 1999 release "Sou Ni Tile" which provided a lot of insight into their raw untouched sound - a more traditionally Malian sound with hints of bluegrass and loads of untapped potential, sort of like a naturally beautiful girl who has no idea what she would look like with makeup.
Though produced by Damon Albarn, (who I adore), I was dubious that he could make me love "Welcome to Mali" in the way that Manu Chao made me love "Dimanche a Bamako." Well, I have to give Damon even more kudos - his production is masterful and invisible. The album sounds closer to the folky, bluegrassy sounds of "Sou Ni Tile," but with a fresh coat of gloss.
Every song swells and crackles with life, streaked with reggae, afrobeat, bluegrass, rockabilly.
The album is a joy from start to finish. The sparse, electronic soundspace of "Sabali," with tender lyrics set to crisp beats is unlike anything I've ever heard from them, and sets the tone for an album that shows just the right amount of evolution for a seasoned artist.
Highlights include, "Djuru," which showcases a stunning bit of kora, as well as the romantic, "Je Te Kiffe," (which roughly translates to "I dig you") and has gentle instrumentals framing Amadou's beautifully uneven vocals. It is immediately followed by "Masiteladi," which bursts from the speakers with an incredible rock / blues guitar that is on par with Ry Cooder.
There is also the bouyant foot tapping "Sebeke," which is packed with rhythms, guitars, and quirky electronic bits for a tune so packed with joy and emotion and color that it makes me happy to be alive.
"Welcome to Mali" comes out in the US in March 2009 on Nonesuch Records.
I have no idea if they plan to tour the US, but I sure hope so, as their live concert remains of the most positive concert going experiences I've ever had.
Find out more about them on MySpace.
Correction - it has just been brought to my attention that Damon Albarn only produced "Sabali" while the rest of the album was produced by Marc-Antoine Moreau and Lauren Jais, who have been with the band for a majority of their album. Which means that while the album still rocks thoroughly, it is Marc-Antoine and Lauren, as well as Amadou and Mariam who deserve credit for near perfect evolution.
Yes, I know that "perfect," is a very lavish term of praise. But I loved "Welcome to Mali" that much. To date, I have spent many hours behind the wheel contemplating just what words to choose to describe this wonderfully bright, happy album which turns something as mundane as a commute into a tolerable, if not enjoyable experience.
I fell in love with this joyous blind couple's music on the Manu Chao produced "Dimanche a Bamako." It had the signautre stamp of Manu Chao, with bold strokes of color, Manu's distinctive nasal backing vocals, and the natural talent and organic sounds of Amadou and Mariam. The album remains one of my favorite albums of all time to this day. Desperate for more, I had a listen to their 1999 release "Sou Ni Tile" which provided a lot of insight into their raw untouched sound - a more traditionally Malian sound with hints of bluegrass and loads of untapped potential, sort of like a naturally beautiful girl who has no idea what she would look like with makeup.
Though produced by Damon Albarn, (who I adore), I was dubious that he could make me love "Welcome to Mali" in the way that Manu Chao made me love "Dimanche a Bamako." Well, I have to give Damon even more kudos - his production is masterful and invisible. The album sounds closer to the folky, bluegrassy sounds of "Sou Ni Tile," but with a fresh coat of gloss.
Every song swells and crackles with life, streaked with reggae, afrobeat, bluegrass, rockabilly.
The album is a joy from start to finish. The sparse, electronic soundspace of "Sabali," with tender lyrics set to crisp beats is unlike anything I've ever heard from them, and sets the tone for an album that shows just the right amount of evolution for a seasoned artist.
Highlights include, "Djuru," which showcases a stunning bit of kora, as well as the romantic, "Je Te Kiffe," (which roughly translates to "I dig you") and has gentle instrumentals framing Amadou's beautifully uneven vocals. It is immediately followed by "Masiteladi," which bursts from the speakers with an incredible rock / blues guitar that is on par with Ry Cooder.
There is also the bouyant foot tapping "Sebeke," which is packed with rhythms, guitars, and quirky electronic bits for a tune so packed with joy and emotion and color that it makes me happy to be alive.
"Welcome to Mali" comes out in the US in March 2009 on Nonesuch Records.
I have no idea if they plan to tour the US, but I sure hope so, as their live concert remains of the most positive concert going experiences I've ever had.
Find out more about them on MySpace.
Correction - it has just been brought to my attention that Damon Albarn only produced "Sabali" while the rest of the album was produced by Marc-Antoine Moreau and Lauren Jais, who have been with the band for a majority of their album. Which means that while the album still rocks thoroughly, it is Marc-Antoine and Lauren, as well as Amadou and Mariam who deserve credit for near perfect evolution.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Natty - Man Like I (album)
Ok so I'm cheating - this album isn't out yet in the US and I don't actually know a release date but I know that has never stopped a savvy music listener from hearing something great. . .
The first thing that struck me listening to Natty's calmly rasping vocals and reggae rhythms was just how much he sounded like Spearhead (who I love.) But I wasn't satisfied just saying "Oh he sounds like Spearhead," and writing him off - I liked the album a little too much to do that, so I set out to figure out what it was that I liked so much about him that differentiated him from Spearhead.After much contemplation and car time, I've decided that what it all comes down to is the weather; and more specifically, warmth.
Spearhead's music is clearly from California - quirky, colorful, and summery. True, he has some more somber songs, but on all his albums, Michael Franti has perfectly crafted songs that are bright to the point of being celebratory and perfectly suited forthe dreadlocked masses to dance barefoot to before going off to eat something vegetarian.
And it's likely that Natty caters to the same crowd. But coming from a freezing place like London, warmth is something that needs to be contained, and likely indoors. The resulting sound is every as bit as warm, but much more intimate and cozy in a "lets huddle by the fire" kind of way as opposed to a "let's go frolic in the sun."
Keeping that in mind, whole debut Man Like I is a really enjoyable listen both pleasant and mellow in a way not unlike Jack Johnson. And within this good album lie a couple of great songs. Notably, the wistfully charming "Coloured Souls." Chillingly intimate and wistful, there is an earnestness to the song that I think can push it past the hippie world and into the pop realm.
Other highlights include "Badman," which boasts a nice bit of scat, and the slightly more urgent "Cold Town."
The first thing that struck me listening to Natty's calmly rasping vocals and reggae rhythms was just how much he sounded like Spearhead (who I love.) But I wasn't satisfied just saying "Oh he sounds like Spearhead," and writing him off - I liked the album a little too much to do that, so I set out to figure out what it was that I liked so much about him that differentiated him from Spearhead.After much contemplation and car time, I've decided that what it all comes down to is the weather; and more specifically, warmth.
Spearhead's music is clearly from California - quirky, colorful, and summery. True, he has some more somber songs, but on all his albums, Michael Franti has perfectly crafted songs that are bright to the point of being celebratory and perfectly suited forthe dreadlocked masses to dance barefoot to before going off to eat something vegetarian.
And it's likely that Natty caters to the same crowd. But coming from a freezing place like London, warmth is something that needs to be contained, and likely indoors. The resulting sound is every as bit as warm, but much more intimate and cozy in a "lets huddle by the fire" kind of way as opposed to a "let's go frolic in the sun."
Keeping that in mind, whole debut Man Like I is a really enjoyable listen both pleasant and mellow in a way not unlike Jack Johnson. And within this good album lie a couple of great songs. Notably, the wistfully charming "Coloured Souls." Chillingly intimate and wistful, there is an earnestness to the song that I think can push it past the hippie world and into the pop realm.
Other highlights include "Badman," which boasts a nice bit of scat, and the slightly more urgent "Cold Town."
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