All recent issues this week.
The album that started the posthumous reevaluation of Arthur Russell in 1994 reappears on Philip Glass’s label. During his lifetime (he died of AIDS in 1992), Russell’s highly imaginative dance productions under a variety of group names were his best-known music. This collection of recordings drew from over 800 tape reels in a variety of formats, but intimate voice-and-cello songs dominate. They’re so light and evanescent, they’re almost not there, yet they’re so memorable and touching that they’re timeless.
One of the finest of the new generation of acoustic fingerstyle guitarists, King broadens her palette on her third album, produced by John McEntire (Tortoise, The Sea and Cake). The arrangements are bigger (but still intimate) and use more players, King adds electric guitar, and even sings a few songs in a low-key, quietly pretty voice. What hasn’t changed is that King’s music is absolutely gorgeous, weaving intricate webs of beauty.
Speaking of great guitarists, check out this guy. Fosson isn’t a big name, but he’s a big talent – it just took until now for us to learn that. Recorded almost three decades ago but never released after John Fahey’s Takoma label foundered, this gorgeous solo acoustic guitar album finally appears. Fans of Fahey, Sandy Bull, Leo Kottke, and James Blackshaw will dig this mix of adept fingerpicking and hypnotic excursions.
For decades, Van Ronk was the father figure of the New York folk scene. He passed along the secrets of his superb guitar technique to countless students, and inspired just as many with his dedication and wit. It’s great to have this 1991 album – Van Ronk’s only all-original program (though some of the lyrics sure sound familiar) – back in print. Nowhere is his sardonic humor better displayed than in this program of his own songs.
Franti encapsulates complex political issues without sounding simplistic, he has a sense of humor, and he grooves. He’s always been stylistically versatile; this time, recording in San Francisco and Kingston, Jamaica, he leans more towards reggae (with Sly & Robbie, among others, guesting), but still with plenty of funk and hip-hop. Tracks such as “Time to Go Home” aren’t a trendy anti-war move, but rather a continuation of Franti’s long-standing political philosophy – in fact, he’s also released a documentary DVD, I Know I’m Not Alone, about his 2004 excursion into strife-ridden areas of Iraq, Israel, and Palestine.
Maupin first came to the attention of most jazz lovers with his distinctively colored bass clarinet contributions to Miles Davis’s Bitches Brew, then continued to impress as an integral member of Herbie Hancock’s Mwandishi band. Sadly, he has not been given many opportunities to record as a leader; this is just his fifth album (they’re spaced 1974, 1976, 1978, 1998, 2006), though he’s had plenty of sideman work. Under those circumstances, every release is to be cherished, but even if he made an album every year this would stand out. His darkly glinting bass clarinent timbre, as distinctive as ever, alternates with his equal expertise on tenor and soprano saxophones and flute. Maupin’s always imaginative playing is set in a variety of styles and instrumentations, though modality dominates. Occasionally the arrangements are dense and funky; often they are spare (including two solo tracks and a flute/bass duo) and seem freely improvised. It’s not easy listening, not because it’s harsh but because it’s profound and subtle.
Smither is one of my favorite folkies, and his latest album further cements his status as one of the most consistently brilliant singer-songwriters around. As usual, there are a few excellent covers, this time a ruminative version of Bob Dylan’s “Visions of Johanna” and a spirited take on Lightnin’ Hopkins’s”Blues in the Bottle” that’s doubly significant: Hopkins was a major influence on Smither’s guitar style, and Smither went through a lengthy battle with alcoholism. But as always, it’s Smither’s tangy originals that shine brightest. There’s his sharp humor; “Origin of Species” offers a biting look at creationism/intelligent design, and “Diplomacy” takes on both Bush and our political system in general with such pungent observations as “We got some freedom, we got the iPod store/We got the Savior, you couldn’t ask for more/Take it or leave it, it’s the deal of the day/And if you leave it, you get it anyway.” But there are also the moving, sometimes even harrowing personal meditations, such as the title track and “Shillin’ for the Blues.” Anybody who knows Smither’s work can be assured that this more than matches his high standards; anybody unfamiliar with him can confidently start here.
“One rhythm” albums are now more popular than ever. This two-CD set is ace label Blood and Fire’s second, put together by the Rhythm & Sound team, using the Lee Perry-produced Congos track “Fisherman” (presented in its original vocal track opening disc one; with the dub version closing disc two). Unlike most such efforts, the label actually commissioned all the new versions. With one exception, the layout is veterans (Big Youth, Dillinger, U Roy, Prince Jazzbo, Max Romeo, Tony Tuff, Sugar Minott, Horace Andy, Mykal Rose [Black Uhuru], saxophonist Dean Fraser doing an instrumental variation, and Freddie McGregor) on disc one, relative newcomers (Luciano, Lutan Fyah, Al Pancho, Country Culture, Mr. Raggamonica doing a melodica instrumental, Paul St. Hilaire AKA Tikiman, Ricky Chaplin, Lucan I, MacLaw, Early One) on disc two, with the exception being Gregory Isaacs (who sang backing vocals on the original album, Heart of the Congos, back in 1977) on disc two. Yes, two dozen tracks with the same rhythm is inherently repetitive, but one disc at a time is actually quite a satisfying listen.
Quite possibly the best of the British blues guitarists of the 1960s, Spencer was responsible for some excellent blues with the first version of Fleetwood Mac, then quit the band for a religious life that rejected wealth (he refused to accept the massive royalties for “Black Magic Woman” – yes, that’s his song). Every once in a while he reappears to make an album, and this one’s especially fine. Accompanied by some ace Norwegian musicians, Spencer displays his superb slide playing throughout on both acoustic and electric guitar, and nods to his major influence with two Elmore James covers. There are also a rockabilly cover (Slim Rhodes’s “Take and Give”) and believe it or not a Fabian song (“Please Don’t Stop”), both attesting to Spencer’s love of 1950s rock. An altered version of the old folk blues tune “Corrine Corrina” (here “Serene Serena”), like many of Spencer’s originals, reflects his spiritual outlook. His warm voice has mellowed with age and if anything sounds better than ever.
Known as Woody Guthrie’s protege and source of Bob Dylan’s early repertoire, Elliott’s a talent in his own right, a charismatic reviver of folk songs with a warm wit and ingratiating style. Some rock stars help him out on his first new album in seven years – David Hidalgo (Los Lobos), Flea (RHCP), Corin Tucker (Sleater-Kinney), Nels Cline, DJ Bonebrake (X), and Lucinda Williams – but happily there’s no overproduction here and Elliott’s charmingly weathered voice is the center of attention.
