To be honest, I haven't been having the best couple of months. As I've mentioned, there has been a lot going on at home lately, and it's been getting me down. A couple of times lately, I've had concert tickets that I've decided to eat, and plans to go out for live music that I've blown off on the day of the show. I was supposed to go into the city a while back to see Frankie Cosmos. Anyone who reads this blog on any kind of a consistent basis knows that I don't really like going into Manhattan anymore on the best of days, so I don't know what I was thinking. (Actually, I guess I was thinking that I really like the new Frankie Cosmos album, and I doubt they'll be playing Long Island anytime soon.) Anyway, come the day of the show, and predictably, I decided to pass. (It helped that the ticket was only about 15 bucks.) A few weeks prior to that, I had been also supposed to go into the city to see 888. But that time, the band blew me off, and cancelled the show a day or two beforehand. Which was probably for the best.
Then, a few weeks ago, the folk singer Kate Campbell was supposed to play that Stony Brook concert series that Charlie Backfish of WUSB promotes. I bought a ticket, and right up until the last minute, I intended to go. But a funny thing happened. That Sunday afternoon, everyone was out of the house. And as I ran around doing errands beforehand, the thought suddenly popped into my head -- what if I didn't go? I had her new album, and I wasn't loving it. And the idea of having a peaceful house to myself started to grow on me, especially since I was in the middle of that Haunting of Hill House series on Netflix, and if I didn't go to the show, I could just relax and binge watch the rest of it. As it turned out, it was probably a good thing I stayed home anyway. In the middle of my Hill House marathon, my house's smoke alarm went off, and a bunch of police officers showed up at my house, followed by a bunch of fire fighters who I think might have kicked my door down if I hadn't been there to let them in. (It was nothing -- my boiler must given off a burst of smoke or something. But it scared the crap out of me.)
Then, a week or so ago, I'd been hoping to go out to Bartini's to catch an old friend, The Kevin MacLeod Band. I don't remember exactly what was going on at home that day, but by the time I was done dealing with it, I wasn't going anywhere. (Apologies, Kevin.)
So what I'm saying here is that I'm not exactly functioning at optimal level. And it almost happened again today. I saw the tickets for Leslie West go on sale a few months ago, and figured it would be my last chance to see him. Unfortunately, there's one Saturday every month where I have to get up early and drive into Queens for a staff meeting for my job, which usually leaves me useless for the rest of the day. And somehow, I bought the tickets without realizing it was the same day as that staff meeting. To make matters worse, I must have slept wrong last night, and by this morning, my back was all out of whack. I was hunched over like a human question mark. So very quickly, I started asking myself, "Do I really want to go to this concert?" And if you'd have asked me this afternoon, I'd have told you probably not.
However, after a mid-afternoon nap, my back felt better. And unlike the Frankie Cosmos show, the tickets to see Leslie were 75 Great Fatsby's! Plus, the show was at The Boulton Center, perhaps my favorite venue to see a show. So in the end, I sucked it up and went.
Am I glad I went? Well, no. And yes. It was a mixed bag.
There was no opening act tonight. I got there about 7:45PM, and although I had bought an aisle seat, I wound up sitting next to another hefty gentleman like myself. It wasn't great for my back, and I know I was squashing him. But as the crowd came in, it was obvious that it wasn't going to quite be a sellout, and there was one lone seat with space on either side in the handicap session that seemed to have the lights of heaven over it, with angels flying back and forth around it. I quickly asked the usher if it was sold, who sent me to the box office. And since they ascertained it hadn't been sold, they said I could have it. This was a win-win -- it was a clear win for me, because I now had a comfy seat with a space next to me to put my stuff on the floor. (And although I didn't notice it until the end of the night, I wound up seated right next to John Blenn.) And I guarantee it was a win for the other guy, who got to spread out and enjoy the show.
Then, shortly after 8pm, the announcer came out, followed by the band. Leslie is in rough shape these days. He lost a leg to diabetes a few years ago, he's gained a bunch of weight back, and he's in a wheelchair. He still seems to be in pretty good spirits, though. He had two bandmates for the show, Rev Jones on bass, who I was especially impressed with, and Bobby Rondinelli (of The Blue Oyster Cult and Rondinelli, among many others) on drums.
Here's the thing, though. Leslie is 73 years old now, and he's worse for the wear. He complained through most of the early part of the night that he couldn't see because of the bright stage lights, and when his band mates or anyone else tried to talk to him, it was pretty obvious he can't hear very well either. (No surprise after all of those years of playing loud hard rock.) He was never, to me, a great vocalist anyway. But now, he doesn't have the wind to really belt much out. And while some of the songs went off pretty well, there were a few that he kind of forgot, and noticeably butchered (the most egregious of these, unfortunately, being "Nantucket Sleighride".)
He did tell a couple of good stories, though. He had a brief question-and-answer session where he sent his wife (who's a good three decades younger than him, but I forgave her the whole trophy wife thing because from my seat, I had a good angle to see her on the side of the stage singing along happily with every song like a true fan) into the crowd with a mic to take questions. Poor Leslie, however, could mostly not hear or understand any of the questions, either when the crowd member asked them, or when his wife repeated them. But one question led him into discussing doing recording sessions in New York for the Who's Next album. He had some choice things to say about Who manager Keith Lambert (apparently he had the best dope ever), as well as about Keith Moon (eight dimes short of a dollar, or something like that.) And that led to a story about his brother (who is still Alvie today) overdosing at one of Leslie's concerts when he was very young and having to be hauled out in an ambulance.
There seemed to be a lot of filler, though. Besides the Q&A session, there was also some time killed by a bass solo, a drum solo (one of my least favorite '70s traditions), and even a guitar solo by special guest Teddy Rondinelli. And the set ended at 9:30pm, so it wasn't that long a show to begin with.
My highlight of the night was the band's version of "Theme for an Imaginary Western", which they did a pretty good job on, and the requisite closer/encore, "Mississippi Queen", wasn't bad either. For their part, the crowd was with him all the way, obviously loving him sincerely, and filling in the gaps in the music that was actually played with the music from their memories.
So was it worth it? I guess the show itself was worth about a $35 or $40 ticket. And maybe it was worth the rest just to check him off of my bucket list. I left the theater feeling kind of sad, though. Father Time is a real bitch.
Sunday, November 11, 2018
Wednesday, November 7, 2018
Review of Tom Bailey's "Science Fiction"
I posted this review a few minutes ago on the Sputnik Music website:
A lot of 1980s music is still quite popular today. I don't know if it's simply nostalgia, or because in many ways, musically speaking, it was a period of a return to simpler and more pop-oriented songs. Regardless, here in the 2010's, many '80s bands and artists have caught the wave, and have either revitalized their careers, or have started them anew.
Tom Bailey is best known for his time in the British new wave band Thompson Twins. When that unit finally folded in the early 1990s, he and bandmate Alannah Currie moved on to form an electronic dance music duo called Babble. After releasing two albums, Babble also broke up, and Bailey then formed a dub/electronica outfit called International Observer (which is still ongoing). Strangely enough, though, Bailey never tried to make it as a solo artist. Until now.
Science Fiction is Tom Bailey's first LP under his own moniker, and it's about as solo as an album can get. He played all of the instruments himself, wrote all of the songs (except for "What Kind of World", on which Hal Ritson received a co-writer credit), and sung all of the lead vocals. He also produced the album himself. It seems that the only real help he got with this effort was the addition of some backup vocals. Talk about rugged individualism!
Nevertheless, in many ways, Science Fiction is something of a return to Bailey's eighties days. It's full of hook-laden electro-pop tracks that any fan of Thompson Twins would be likely to adore. The one surprise here is that of the LP's 10 songs, two of them have an unexpected Latin twist to them. "What Kind of World", which in many ways sounds like a synthesized Santana song, is perhaps the strongest track on the album. And another of the LP's better tracks, "If you Need Someone," also has a vague Latino tinge to it.
The rest of the album is a bit more traditional modern new wave. Winning numbers include a mid-tempo synthpop song called "Shooting Star", and the album-closing "Come So Far", which sounds like a cross between the 1960s pop classic "Love Is Blue" and Sting's "Moon Over Bourbon Street".
I don't know why it took so long for Tom Bailey to release a solo album, but I hope that Science Fiction becomes the first of a series of them. This effort has been one of the more pleasant surprises of 2018.
Rating: 3.5 of 5 stars
Review Summary: The eighties come to 2018.
A lot of 1980s music is still quite popular today. I don't know if it's simply nostalgia, or because in many ways, musically speaking, it was a period of a return to simpler and more pop-oriented songs. Regardless, here in the 2010's, many '80s bands and artists have caught the wave, and have either revitalized their careers, or have started them anew.
Tom Bailey is best known for his time in the British new wave band Thompson Twins. When that unit finally folded in the early 1990s, he and bandmate Alannah Currie moved on to form an electronic dance music duo called Babble. After releasing two albums, Babble also broke up, and Bailey then formed a dub/electronica outfit called International Observer (which is still ongoing). Strangely enough, though, Bailey never tried to make it as a solo artist. Until now.
Science Fiction is Tom Bailey's first LP under his own moniker, and it's about as solo as an album can get. He played all of the instruments himself, wrote all of the songs (except for "What Kind of World", on which Hal Ritson received a co-writer credit), and sung all of the lead vocals. He also produced the album himself. It seems that the only real help he got with this effort was the addition of some backup vocals. Talk about rugged individualism!
Nevertheless, in many ways, Science Fiction is something of a return to Bailey's eighties days. It's full of hook-laden electro-pop tracks that any fan of Thompson Twins would be likely to adore. The one surprise here is that of the LP's 10 songs, two of them have an unexpected Latin twist to them. "What Kind of World", which in many ways sounds like a synthesized Santana song, is perhaps the strongest track on the album. And another of the LP's better tracks, "If you Need Someone," also has a vague Latino tinge to it.
The rest of the album is a bit more traditional modern new wave. Winning numbers include a mid-tempo synthpop song called "Shooting Star", and the album-closing "Come So Far", which sounds like a cross between the 1960s pop classic "Love Is Blue" and Sting's "Moon Over Bourbon Street".
I don't know why it took so long for Tom Bailey to release a solo album, but I hope that Science Fiction becomes the first of a series of them. This effort has been one of the more pleasant surprises of 2018.
Rating: 3.5 of 5 stars
Monday, November 5, 2018
Favorite Artists, Part 3: About Pink Floyd
This is Part 3 of my "Favorite Artists" series, a series where I write in-depth about my favorite bands and artists of all time.
In Part 2 of this series, I began by saying that I believed The Who to be the greatest rock band of all time. I have a different claim for this part. I believe that Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here is the greatest album of all time. But we'll come back to that.
The first time I ever heard of Pink Floyd was probably in 1971 on my favorite radio station at the time, WNEW-FM. The song was "One of These Days" from the Meddle album. I can't honestly tell you if Floyd had been getting much (or any) airplay from them up until this point. But the track caught my attention because it was so weird, and psychedelic. I would have been about 14 at the time, I'd never even smoked pot. I wasn't into drugs at all -- pot was the heaviest one I ever used in my life, and I didn't have my first taste of that until I was 20. (And by 25 or so, I was pretty much done with that as well). But in a way, music was my drug. It could inspire me, it could transport me to a different place. And tracks like "One of These Days" or "Amazing Journey" by The Who were mind-altering in the way that I imagined ingesting a drug such as LSD might be.
Still, for many years, I was only a casual fan of Pink Floyd. While I was actively purchasing albums by bands like The Who, Jethro Tull and Yes, I really only listened to Pink Floyd when they came on the radio. Until Mikey's place.
Mike was a friend I met in high school. He wasn't my closest friend there, but we were part of the same group. At some point along the way, after we graduated high school, there was a group of us that used to go over to his place once a week or so to play penny-ante poker. The games were fun (you could always get another dollar's worth!), there was always cold beer and chips, and there was music. Boy was there music.
I had cut my musical teeth while still in grammar school on my friend Bob's older brothers' record collections. I'd gotten into The Who, King Crimson, The Mothers of Invention and Procol Harum from them. Later, once I got my first stereo as a grammar school graduation gift, I started listening to WNEW-FM and listening to more bands I was previously unfamiliar with. But while I had accumulated a decent-sized record collection, it was nothing in comparison to Mike's. And since I cared about music more than did a lot of our friends, often, Mike would let me pick out a stack of his albums to play on his stereo while we settled in for our poker game. It was here that Wish You Were Here quickly became one of my favorites. And Dark Side of the Moon wasn't far behind it.
Before long, I bought copies of both of those albums myself. Then, in 1979, The Wall came out, and I was completely sold. Pink Floyd officially became one of my top favorite bands.
To this day, my single biggest regret in terms of concerts I missed out on is that I never saw Pink Floyd live. I did eventually pick up every studio album they ever made, though. Which turned out to be weird, because early Floyd is nothing like the Floyd I first became familiar with.
In general, I'd say you could break Pink Floyd's career down to four sometimes overlapping segments.
The first was the Syd Barrett years. These are interesting to me, but more from a historical perspective than anything else. I don't hate this period, but I'd never have become of a huge fan of the band if that was all they offered.
Then you had the post-Barrett years, after David Gilmour joined the band, when Roger Waters was becoming the main creative force. This was pretty hit-and-miss for me. I liked a track here and there, and I still like the two soundtrack albums (More and Obscured By Clouds) better than a lot of people do. But I really don't like Atom Heart Mother, or the studio part of Ummagumma, very much at all.
Segment 3 begins with Meddle, which to me, was Floyd just beginning to hit their stride (with "One of These Days" and "Echoes" being very much the best parts of this album.) What followed Meddle, though, was a ridiculously high-level four-album run that includes Dark Side, Wish, Animals and The Wall, which is as good a streak as any band in history has ever had.
Then you had The Final Cut, which is total crap (sorry, if you like it better than I do), followed by the post-Waters years, when they put out A Momentary Lapse of Reason, The Division Bell and The Endless River. These were OK, but they were nowhere near the level of the Segment 3 albums.
So a few thoughts -- of all of the bands I consider to be my top favorite ones, Pink Floyd is the most inconsistent. They actually released several albums that I don't like at all, but yet their best output is up there with the great albums of rock history. And, as I stated earlier, I believe Wish You Were Here to be the single greatest album in rock history.
Next thought -- Pink Floyd being one of my top favorite bands, you'd think I would have a special affection for the guy considered their main creative force for most of their history, Roger Waters, the way I do for men like Ian Anderson and Pete Townshend. But you'd be wrong. Because as much as I respect Waters' input (and Barrett's creativity at the beginning of their career), for me, my love of Floyd is mostly about David Gilmour.
There are two reasons for this. (Well, maybe three). For one, Gilmour is my favorite guitarist of all time. There are guys who play faster, but for my money, no one plays more distinctly, more expressively and more tastefully.
The second reason is this: I've noticed over the years that the more Gilmour there is on a Pink Floyd album, the better it seems to be, while the more Waters totally dominates things, the worse it seems to be. And Waters with almost no Gilmour (as on The Final Cut or on his solo album from the same era, The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking) is pretty lousy (for my taste anyway). Whereas Gilmour with no Waters (as on the last three Floyd studio albums) might not be classic Floyd, but at least it's decent.
(And the third point I mentioned for loving Gilmour more than Waters is the vocals. Gilmour might not be the greatest singer of all time, but I like him a lot better as a vocalist than I do Waters. Waters is effective on some songs, especially when the song is about some kind of madness, but his voice is seldom pleasant. Gilmour doesn't have a huge range, but I at least find his voice to be pleasing.)
As to why I say Wish You Were Here is the greatest album of all time, it's because it's close to being a perfect album. The title track, the two parts of "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" and the track "Welcome to the Machine" are in the highest echelons of rock classics. They're what I referred to before as "mind-altering" -- they're the promise that was made on Meddle checked off and fully delivered. And "Have a Cigar" is barely a half-step below them -- many would consider it to be a classic in its own right.
I feel like this write-up has been kind of stream-of-consciousness. Which is probably appropriate for a treatise about this band. Maybe at some point, I'll come back and develop it more. But in any event, I hope I've given you at least a feel for why I consider Pink Floyd to be one of my favorite bands (and one of the greatest bands) of all time.
Part 4 in this series, which I'll be posting early in 2019, will be about the music of Yes.
In Part 2 of this series, I began by saying that I believed The Who to be the greatest rock band of all time. I have a different claim for this part. I believe that Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here is the greatest album of all time. But we'll come back to that.
The first time I ever heard of Pink Floyd was probably in 1971 on my favorite radio station at the time, WNEW-FM. The song was "One of These Days" from the Meddle album. I can't honestly tell you if Floyd had been getting much (or any) airplay from them up until this point. But the track caught my attention because it was so weird, and psychedelic. I would have been about 14 at the time, I'd never even smoked pot. I wasn't into drugs at all -- pot was the heaviest one I ever used in my life, and I didn't have my first taste of that until I was 20. (And by 25 or so, I was pretty much done with that as well). But in a way, music was my drug. It could inspire me, it could transport me to a different place. And tracks like "One of These Days" or "Amazing Journey" by The Who were mind-altering in the way that I imagined ingesting a drug such as LSD might be.
Still, for many years, I was only a casual fan of Pink Floyd. While I was actively purchasing albums by bands like The Who, Jethro Tull and Yes, I really only listened to Pink Floyd when they came on the radio. Until Mikey's place.
Mike was a friend I met in high school. He wasn't my closest friend there, but we were part of the same group. At some point along the way, after we graduated high school, there was a group of us that used to go over to his place once a week or so to play penny-ante poker. The games were fun (you could always get another dollar's worth!), there was always cold beer and chips, and there was music. Boy was there music.
I had cut my musical teeth while still in grammar school on my friend Bob's older brothers' record collections. I'd gotten into The Who, King Crimson, The Mothers of Invention and Procol Harum from them. Later, once I got my first stereo as a grammar school graduation gift, I started listening to WNEW-FM and listening to more bands I was previously unfamiliar with. But while I had accumulated a decent-sized record collection, it was nothing in comparison to Mike's. And since I cared about music more than did a lot of our friends, often, Mike would let me pick out a stack of his albums to play on his stereo while we settled in for our poker game. It was here that Wish You Were Here quickly became one of my favorites. And Dark Side of the Moon wasn't far behind it.
Before long, I bought copies of both of those albums myself. Then, in 1979, The Wall came out, and I was completely sold. Pink Floyd officially became one of my top favorite bands.
To this day, my single biggest regret in terms of concerts I missed out on is that I never saw Pink Floyd live. I did eventually pick up every studio album they ever made, though. Which turned out to be weird, because early Floyd is nothing like the Floyd I first became familiar with.
In general, I'd say you could break Pink Floyd's career down to four sometimes overlapping segments.
The first was the Syd Barrett years. These are interesting to me, but more from a historical perspective than anything else. I don't hate this period, but I'd never have become of a huge fan of the band if that was all they offered.
Then you had the post-Barrett years, after David Gilmour joined the band, when Roger Waters was becoming the main creative force. This was pretty hit-and-miss for me. I liked a track here and there, and I still like the two soundtrack albums (More and Obscured By Clouds) better than a lot of people do. But I really don't like Atom Heart Mother, or the studio part of Ummagumma, very much at all.
Segment 3 begins with Meddle, which to me, was Floyd just beginning to hit their stride (with "One of These Days" and "Echoes" being very much the best parts of this album.) What followed Meddle, though, was a ridiculously high-level four-album run that includes Dark Side, Wish, Animals and The Wall, which is as good a streak as any band in history has ever had.
Then you had The Final Cut, which is total crap (sorry, if you like it better than I do), followed by the post-Waters years, when they put out A Momentary Lapse of Reason, The Division Bell and The Endless River. These were OK, but they were nowhere near the level of the Segment 3 albums.
So a few thoughts -- of all of the bands I consider to be my top favorite ones, Pink Floyd is the most inconsistent. They actually released several albums that I don't like at all, but yet their best output is up there with the great albums of rock history. And, as I stated earlier, I believe Wish You Were Here to be the single greatest album in rock history.
Next thought -- Pink Floyd being one of my top favorite bands, you'd think I would have a special affection for the guy considered their main creative force for most of their history, Roger Waters, the way I do for men like Ian Anderson and Pete Townshend. But you'd be wrong. Because as much as I respect Waters' input (and Barrett's creativity at the beginning of their career), for me, my love of Floyd is mostly about David Gilmour.
There are two reasons for this. (Well, maybe three). For one, Gilmour is my favorite guitarist of all time. There are guys who play faster, but for my money, no one plays more distinctly, more expressively and more tastefully.
The second reason is this: I've noticed over the years that the more Gilmour there is on a Pink Floyd album, the better it seems to be, while the more Waters totally dominates things, the worse it seems to be. And Waters with almost no Gilmour (as on The Final Cut or on his solo album from the same era, The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking) is pretty lousy (for my taste anyway). Whereas Gilmour with no Waters (as on the last three Floyd studio albums) might not be classic Floyd, but at least it's decent.
(And the third point I mentioned for loving Gilmour more than Waters is the vocals. Gilmour might not be the greatest singer of all time, but I like him a lot better as a vocalist than I do Waters. Waters is effective on some songs, especially when the song is about some kind of madness, but his voice is seldom pleasant. Gilmour doesn't have a huge range, but I at least find his voice to be pleasing.)
As to why I say Wish You Were Here is the greatest album of all time, it's because it's close to being a perfect album. The title track, the two parts of "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" and the track "Welcome to the Machine" are in the highest echelons of rock classics. They're what I referred to before as "mind-altering" -- they're the promise that was made on Meddle checked off and fully delivered. And "Have a Cigar" is barely a half-step below them -- many would consider it to be a classic in its own right.
I feel like this write-up has been kind of stream-of-consciousness. Which is probably appropriate for a treatise about this band. Maybe at some point, I'll come back and develop it more. But in any event, I hope I've given you at least a feel for why I consider Pink Floyd to be one of my favorite bands (and one of the greatest bands) of all time.
Part 4 in this series, which I'll be posting early in 2019, will be about the music of Yes.
Friday, November 2, 2018
Review of Lori Llyn's "Glastonbury"
I posted this review a few minutes ago on the Sputnik Music website:
Lori Llyn (aka Lori Schneider) has demonstrated a variety of interests and influences throughout her musical career. In the mid-1990's, she was known throughout Long Island as one half of the acoustic duo Crystal Rose. In 2004, she showed her progressive rock influences with the release of Legend: A Knight's Opera, a romantic rock opera detailing the exploits of the French Knight Treseblu. In 2007, she released an album of sitar music called Evergreen Heart. Since that time, she has participated in a pagan folk duo known as Afalarian (although the only music ever actually released from that project was a single called "The Loom"), and begun recording solo music under the moniker of Lori Llyn. The Glastonbury EP is her second release under this name, following upon her 2015 full-length album Motherland.
Glastonbury is what I would call medieval folk music. It's a 4-song EP rooted firmly in Arthurian legend, with songs referencing Avalon, the Lady of the Lake, etc. But while the ideas might harken back to projects such as Rick Wakeman's The Myths and Legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, the music here is quieter, and more firmly grounded in the period.
The songs are ethereal, and quite beautiful. In addition to her always-lovely vocals, Llyn contributes acoustic guitar, keyboards and flute to the effort. She is joined by her former Crystal Rose partner Jodi Wexler, who provides backing vocals on two of the tracks, and by Long Island guitar legend Bob Westcott, who in addition to adding both acoustic and electric guitars, co-wrote the title track with Ms. Llyn. Percussionist Akiva the Believer and cellist Jenny Flaum round out the musical lineup.
My only criticism of Glastonbury is that it's too short. I'd have loved for this to have been a full-length album. It contains a lot of elements that I love in my music -- elegant vocals (and vocal harmonies), delicate and interesting instrumentation, and spiritual and mystical lyrics. If you're a fan of bands such as Blackmore's Knight or Steeleye Span, I'd suggest you give this one a try.
Rating: 3.5 stars
Review Summary: Medieval folk music rooted in Arthurian legend.
Lori Llyn (aka Lori Schneider) has demonstrated a variety of interests and influences throughout her musical career. In the mid-1990's, she was known throughout Long Island as one half of the acoustic duo Crystal Rose. In 2004, she showed her progressive rock influences with the release of Legend: A Knight's Opera, a romantic rock opera detailing the exploits of the French Knight Treseblu. In 2007, she released an album of sitar music called Evergreen Heart. Since that time, she has participated in a pagan folk duo known as Afalarian (although the only music ever actually released from that project was a single called "The Loom"), and begun recording solo music under the moniker of Lori Llyn. The Glastonbury EP is her second release under this name, following upon her 2015 full-length album Motherland.
Glastonbury is what I would call medieval folk music. It's a 4-song EP rooted firmly in Arthurian legend, with songs referencing Avalon, the Lady of the Lake, etc. But while the ideas might harken back to projects such as Rick Wakeman's The Myths and Legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, the music here is quieter, and more firmly grounded in the period.
The songs are ethereal, and quite beautiful. In addition to her always-lovely vocals, Llyn contributes acoustic guitar, keyboards and flute to the effort. She is joined by her former Crystal Rose partner Jodi Wexler, who provides backing vocals on two of the tracks, and by Long Island guitar legend Bob Westcott, who in addition to adding both acoustic and electric guitars, co-wrote the title track with Ms. Llyn. Percussionist Akiva the Believer and cellist Jenny Flaum round out the musical lineup.
My only criticism of Glastonbury is that it's too short. I'd have loved for this to have been a full-length album. It contains a lot of elements that I love in my music -- elegant vocals (and vocal harmonies), delicate and interesting instrumentation, and spiritual and mystical lyrics. If you're a fan of bands such as Blackmore's Knight or Steeleye Span, I'd suggest you give this one a try.
Rating: 3.5 stars
Monday, October 29, 2018
Max Freeze, AWOLnation and Twenty One Pilots
Back in 2016, Denise told me she was going to get tickets to take the kids into Madison Square Garden to see Twenty One Pilots. She asked me if I wanted to go, and I told her no. I really wasn't familiar with the band at all, although I knew the rest of the family liked them. Also, at the time, my health was still fairly lousy, and even at my best I'm not that usually thrilled to haul myself into Manhattan. In retrospect, though, it was the wrong decision.
A short while after that, my daughter showed me the video for "Heathens", using my love of comic book movies as a hook (it was much the best thing about Suicide Squad), and I was impressed. (And, in fact, I wound up ranking it #3 on my Top 20 Songs of 2016 list). At this point, the tickets were bought, though, so it was too late to change my mind. They went to the concert and had a great time. (My kids came back talking about some synthesizer band that opened for them, who I later found out was Mutemath, a band I like a lot, so that made me sad to have missed the show. On the other hand, they were also talking about how much I would have hated the ride home on the Long Island Railroad, where they had to stand for the whole trip, and some girl barfed all over the car just to make things even more pleasant.)
Not too long after the concert, my son got me to listen to Blurryface, and again, I liked it more than I expected to. I'm really not a fan of hip hop, so the band's use of it was one strike against them. But I also liked quite a few of the songs, including "Lane Boy", "The Judge", and "Stressed Out". So it would be fair to say that while they're not up there among my favorite bands, I've grown to like Twenty One Pilots, and to enjoy their work.
Cut to this year, and Denise noticed that they were playing Nassau Coliseum on her birthday. Naturally, I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. So she picked up some tickets for the whole family (I got her a different present closer to her birthday), and I picked up Trench as soon as it came out.
Trench is an interesting album. It's a concept album, which is always a plus for me. The songs themselves didn't grab me at first listen, although they've been growing on me. All in all, I still like Blurryface better, but I also like Trench more than not.
I later learned that the opening band for this show was going to be AWOLnation, a band that I'm not that fond of. I've really never liked that "Sail" song, and they remind me of Imagine Dragons, another band I'm kind of tepid about. But Denise and the kids like them, so at least that was good.
It's was a bit of a difficult week again in the house, but everyone agreed that we all wanted Denise to have a good birthday. So on Saturday, we had a quiet day at home, and then decided to drive into Nassau early and get dinner before the show.
We ate at Houlihans, which was pretty good, then scooted over to the Coliseum just a little late for the 7PM start time. (We thought maybe they were bluffing, and 7PM was when the doors would open. We were wrong.)
We rushed to our seats (which involved a bit of mountain climbing, as were pretty high up), and reached them about halfway through the first set. It was a single guy, playing guitar and other instruments to a track, sort of a one-man karaoke. At first I thought this was AWOLnation, until the performer asked the crowd, "Are you excited to see AWOLnation?" (I wasn't. But obviously, this wasn't them). At this point, I noticed two neon signs to the left and right of the stage that said "Max Frost". But as I'm not that familiar with the new Coliseum yet, I thought maybe it was an advertisement for restaurant up front near the VIP section. Or even more likely, a desert place. ("I'll take two Max Frosts and a cappuccino, please!") So I asked my kids if they knew who this was, and was met with much derision. I just love family outings. (I also thought that I remembered that Max Frost was one of the villains in the iZombie series, but it turns out that was Max Rager. Whatever.)
Anyway, Max Frost was energetic enough, but he wasn't really my thing. I can't really even describe his style, more than to say it was a form of pop rock. Sputnik Music describes him as a singer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist/producer/citizen of Earth. Hmm. He wasn't terrible or anything, especially for a karaoke artist. I remember when there used to be live music, though.
Max Frost finished up, and after a short delay, AWOLnation came on. Yay. I think they played as a 4-piece, but I'm not sure -- the stage was kind of dark in the back, we were pretty far away, and my eyes aren't what they used to be. Anyway, I actually liked them more than I thought I would. They started the set with a few synthesizer dominated songs, which was fine. The latter part of the set was less interesting to me -- it was a bit more guitar heavy. Of course, they played "Sail" as their closing number, which was good for me, because I used the occasion to run downstairs and use the nearly empty Men's Room. (And let me tell you, the sound was pretty good in there.)
At this point, there was a long break between sets. At times, the crowd grew impatient, chanted, stomped their feet, etc. They were just adorable. I think there might have been some equipment problems backstage, because at one point, things went black behind the curtain, which I thought was the cue they were ready to start. Then the red light back there came on again, and stayed on for a long time. (I kind of like to fantasize that drummer Josh Dunn lost a contact lens, and everyone was back there crawling around on their knees looking for it.)
Unfortunately, during the wait, my stomach started acting up. (Theres a reason why Denise and I usually get dinner after the concert). I ignored it for a little, but at one point, a couple with interior seats made me get up, and I realized I was courting disaster if I didn't go down and take care of business. I thought for sure I was going to miss the opening of the set. Fortunately, I knew the setlist (they've been playing the same one every night - it's a very choreographed show), and the first two songs weren't favorites. "Fairly Local" and "Stressed Out" were up third and fourth, and while I didn't want to miss them, I decided that as long as I was back in place for "Heathens" which was up fifth, I could live with myself. So I ran back downstairs, as two muffled (and vaguely annoying) synthesizer notes slowly pulsed again and again.
As it turned out, I needn't have worried. That's how long the break was. I was long back in my seat when the place finally went black, and the crowd emitted a high-pitched shriek. (This was a house dominated by teen girls and young women). Then flames shot up, and at first I thought the drum kit was burning. But no, it was a special effect meant to call to mind the video for their first song, "Jumpsuit".
So what can I tell you about the show? I'll start with the negatives first. Even though I know there are only two official members of the band, I thought they'd be touring with a full band. I was wrong. We live in the age of tracking tapes, and Tyler Joseph and Josh Dunn take full advantage of that fact. Not that this is a totally new thing. I remember seeing Flock of Seagulls at the Beacon Theater back in the eighties, and at one point, they were halted mid-set by equipment problems. As they all stood around looking, all of a sudden, the music roared back to life, and they all had to scramble back to their instruments quickly to try to minimize the break in the illusion. It was pretty funny, and I still love Flock to this day. So I guess I can forgive Twenty One Pilots for playing to some canned music.
My second negative -- Josh Dunn needs to keep his friggin' shirt on once in awhile. (Although I mentioned that to my daughter in the car later, and judging by her reaction to this suggestion, it's probably just as well I didn't voice it out loud at the concert. I'd clearly have been stomped to death by a bunch of overheated teens and tweens. (As for Tyler Joseph, he's kind of a Frodo-looking mfer, so he kept his shirt on. I'm sure he has his share of female fans, but the other guy seems to be the preferred eye candy for the estrogen set.)
Anyway, that's really all I've got for negatives. Well, that, and also not all of the songs were great -- there were one or two down spots. For example, I would have gladly traded that stupid song about the cheetah for "The Hype", my favorite song from Trench (which was inexplicably left out of the setlist for this tour).
But now for the positives. Holy crap! These guys kill themselves to put on a great show. They played a 20-song set with a 2-song encore, so that a show that started at 7PM ran until after 11. (The set break may have been long, but they didn't penalize the crowd by eliminating any material.) And the show features two stages (there was one in the middle of the floor), so even if you're far from the main stage, you get to see them when they play the other one. Meanwhile, there were pyrotechnics, a killer light show, interesting video segments, a bridge that came down over the crowd so the band could walk from one stage to the other, and some magic with a body double that allowed Joseph to suddenly appear at one of the gates in the upper deck for one of his songs. They also had a portion of the set where they were joined onstage by Max Frost and AWOLnation for a pair of cover tunes, The Goo Goo Dolls' "Iris" and The Beatles' "Hey Jude". Overall, it was pretty damned impressive, and admirable too. This is a crowd that will come back again, because Twenty One Pilots entertained the bejesus out of them, and you can't say that about every band.
I also want to mention that they did a neat version of "Heathens" that started with a slow, beautiful piano intro.
It was also a great show for fans who've come along more recently, as fifteen of the twenty-two songs they played were from either Trench or Blurryface.
Will I see them again? I'd like to, even though my daughter has banned me from any future shows by the band due to the aforementioned remark about Josh's shirt. Heck, if I could have traded AWOLnation and Max Frost in for Mutemath, it would have been a perfect show. I know the birthday girl enjoyed it, and I'm pretty sure the kids did too (even if they didn't do their homework and bone up on the Trench LP before the show like Denise and I did). It was certainly one of the better shows of the year.
The setlist for Twenty One pilots can be found at keepyourshirtonjosh.com, and the set for AWOLnation can be found at wishtheyweremutemath.com. The set for Jack Frost's little brother Max can't be found anywhere, because not even his mama cares.
Peace out.
Not too long after the concert, my son got me to listen to Blurryface, and again, I liked it more than I expected to. I'm really not a fan of hip hop, so the band's use of it was one strike against them. But I also liked quite a few of the songs, including "Lane Boy", "The Judge", and "Stressed Out". So it would be fair to say that while they're not up there among my favorite bands, I've grown to like Twenty One Pilots, and to enjoy their work.
Cut to this year, and Denise noticed that they were playing Nassau Coliseum on her birthday. Naturally, I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. So she picked up some tickets for the whole family (I got her a different present closer to her birthday), and I picked up Trench as soon as it came out.
Trench is an interesting album. It's a concept album, which is always a plus for me. The songs themselves didn't grab me at first listen, although they've been growing on me. All in all, I still like Blurryface better, but I also like Trench more than not.
I later learned that the opening band for this show was going to be AWOLnation, a band that I'm not that fond of. I've really never liked that "Sail" song, and they remind me of Imagine Dragons, another band I'm kind of tepid about. But Denise and the kids like them, so at least that was good.
It's was a bit of a difficult week again in the house, but everyone agreed that we all wanted Denise to have a good birthday. So on Saturday, we had a quiet day at home, and then decided to drive into Nassau early and get dinner before the show.
We ate at Houlihans, which was pretty good, then scooted over to the Coliseum just a little late for the 7PM start time. (We thought maybe they were bluffing, and 7PM was when the doors would open. We were wrong.)
We rushed to our seats (which involved a bit of mountain climbing, as were pretty high up), and reached them about halfway through the first set. It was a single guy, playing guitar and other instruments to a track, sort of a one-man karaoke. At first I thought this was AWOLnation, until the performer asked the crowd, "Are you excited to see AWOLnation?" (I wasn't. But obviously, this wasn't them). At this point, I noticed two neon signs to the left and right of the stage that said "Max Frost". But as I'm not that familiar with the new Coliseum yet, I thought maybe it was an advertisement for restaurant up front near the VIP section. Or even more likely, a desert place. ("I'll take two Max Frosts and a cappuccino, please!") So I asked my kids if they knew who this was, and was met with much derision. I just love family outings. (I also thought that I remembered that Max Frost was one of the villains in the iZombie series, but it turns out that was Max Rager. Whatever.)
Anyway, Max Frost was energetic enough, but he wasn't really my thing. I can't really even describe his style, more than to say it was a form of pop rock. Sputnik Music describes him as a singer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist/producer/citizen of Earth. Hmm. He wasn't terrible or anything, especially for a karaoke artist. I remember when there used to be live music, though.
Max Frost finished up, and after a short delay, AWOLnation came on. Yay. I think they played as a 4-piece, but I'm not sure -- the stage was kind of dark in the back, we were pretty far away, and my eyes aren't what they used to be. Anyway, I actually liked them more than I thought I would. They started the set with a few synthesizer dominated songs, which was fine. The latter part of the set was less interesting to me -- it was a bit more guitar heavy. Of course, they played "Sail" as their closing number, which was good for me, because I used the occasion to run downstairs and use the nearly empty Men's Room. (And let me tell you, the sound was pretty good in there.)
At this point, there was a long break between sets. At times, the crowd grew impatient, chanted, stomped their feet, etc. They were just adorable. I think there might have been some equipment problems backstage, because at one point, things went black behind the curtain, which I thought was the cue they were ready to start. Then the red light back there came on again, and stayed on for a long time. (I kind of like to fantasize that drummer Josh Dunn lost a contact lens, and everyone was back there crawling around on their knees looking for it.)
Unfortunately, during the wait, my stomach started acting up. (Theres a reason why Denise and I usually get dinner after the concert). I ignored it for a little, but at one point, a couple with interior seats made me get up, and I realized I was courting disaster if I didn't go down and take care of business. I thought for sure I was going to miss the opening of the set. Fortunately, I knew the setlist (they've been playing the same one every night - it's a very choreographed show), and the first two songs weren't favorites. "Fairly Local" and "Stressed Out" were up third and fourth, and while I didn't want to miss them, I decided that as long as I was back in place for "Heathens" which was up fifth, I could live with myself. So I ran back downstairs, as two muffled (and vaguely annoying) synthesizer notes slowly pulsed again and again.
As it turned out, I needn't have worried. That's how long the break was. I was long back in my seat when the place finally went black, and the crowd emitted a high-pitched shriek. (This was a house dominated by teen girls and young women). Then flames shot up, and at first I thought the drum kit was burning. But no, it was a special effect meant to call to mind the video for their first song, "Jumpsuit".
So what can I tell you about the show? I'll start with the negatives first. Even though I know there are only two official members of the band, I thought they'd be touring with a full band. I was wrong. We live in the age of tracking tapes, and Tyler Joseph and Josh Dunn take full advantage of that fact. Not that this is a totally new thing. I remember seeing Flock of Seagulls at the Beacon Theater back in the eighties, and at one point, they were halted mid-set by equipment problems. As they all stood around looking, all of a sudden, the music roared back to life, and they all had to scramble back to their instruments quickly to try to minimize the break in the illusion. It was pretty funny, and I still love Flock to this day. So I guess I can forgive Twenty One Pilots for playing to some canned music.
My second negative -- Josh Dunn needs to keep his friggin' shirt on once in awhile. (Although I mentioned that to my daughter in the car later, and judging by her reaction to this suggestion, it's probably just as well I didn't voice it out loud at the concert. I'd clearly have been stomped to death by a bunch of overheated teens and tweens. (As for Tyler Joseph, he's kind of a Frodo-looking mfer, so he kept his shirt on. I'm sure he has his share of female fans, but the other guy seems to be the preferred eye candy for the estrogen set.)
Anyway, that's really all I've got for negatives. Well, that, and also not all of the songs were great -- there were one or two down spots. For example, I would have gladly traded that stupid song about the cheetah for "The Hype", my favorite song from Trench (which was inexplicably left out of the setlist for this tour).
But now for the positives. Holy crap! These guys kill themselves to put on a great show. They played a 20-song set with a 2-song encore, so that a show that started at 7PM ran until after 11. (The set break may have been long, but they didn't penalize the crowd by eliminating any material.) And the show features two stages (there was one in the middle of the floor), so even if you're far from the main stage, you get to see them when they play the other one. Meanwhile, there were pyrotechnics, a killer light show, interesting video segments, a bridge that came down over the crowd so the band could walk from one stage to the other, and some magic with a body double that allowed Joseph to suddenly appear at one of the gates in the upper deck for one of his songs. They also had a portion of the set where they were joined onstage by Max Frost and AWOLnation for a pair of cover tunes, The Goo Goo Dolls' "Iris" and The Beatles' "Hey Jude". Overall, it was pretty damned impressive, and admirable too. This is a crowd that will come back again, because Twenty One Pilots entertained the bejesus out of them, and you can't say that about every band.
I also want to mention that they did a neat version of "Heathens" that started with a slow, beautiful piano intro.
It was also a great show for fans who've come along more recently, as fifteen of the twenty-two songs they played were from either Trench or Blurryface.
Will I see them again? I'd like to, even though my daughter has banned me from any future shows by the band due to the aforementioned remark about Josh's shirt. Heck, if I could have traded AWOLnation and Max Frost in for Mutemath, it would have been a perfect show. I know the birthday girl enjoyed it, and I'm pretty sure the kids did too (even if they didn't do their homework and bone up on the Trench LP before the show like Denise and I did). It was certainly one of the better shows of the year.
The setlist for Twenty One pilots can be found at keepyourshirtonjosh.com, and the set for AWOLnation can be found at wishtheyweremutemath.com. The set for Jack Frost's little brother Max can't be found anywhere, because not even his mama cares.
Peace out.
Friday, October 26, 2018
Review of Ho-ro's "Hex"
I posted this review a few minutes ago on the Sputnik Music site:
This is the second album by this young Scottish band. It's filled with traditional Celtic music (including lots of fiddles, whistles, accordions, and sometimes bagpipes), as well covers of pop and folk songs by artists such as the British folk singer Kate Rusby and the Irish folk artist Barry Kerr. They also seem to be particularly inspired by the Scottish musician Gary Innes.
The music on Hex is bright-sounding, and generally quite beautiful. The band features two lead vocalists, Lucy Doogan and Calum Iain Macphail. Doogan's voice is pure and delicate, while Macphail's is a sweet male pub voice. Seven of the album's eleven tracks, however, are instrumentals.
The instrumental tracks are mostly all energetic toe-tappers -- and why not, since they were recorded with a seven-piece band? Two of them were composed by Macphail, while the others are covers of traditional music and music by a variety of Highland and Celtic artists. The songs that stuck with me the most, though, were several of the tracks with vocals. "Raven's Wing", the sole track sung by Macphail, is a soft, desperate song about alcoholism. It might be the best song on the album, although it's pushed hard by two of Doogan's numbers, the slow, exquisite "Muinntir Mo Ghraidh", and "Puirt-a-Beul", both of which seem to be sung in Scottish Gaelic. This last one starts in deliberate fashion, then gradually speeds up as the song goes on, to the point where it's impressive that Doogan can sing it without stumbling over the words (and that she can still breathe while she's singing that fast).
Hex is actually one of the more enjoyable albums I've heard in 2018. I'd have given it an extra half-star if they'd have recorded more of their own original music, although I can't really argue with their choice of cover material. (And bonus points should be given to them for recording "Muinntir Mo Ghraidh", which is a song that Doogan found in her grandmother's attic. It was written by her great-grandmother's cousin.) I don't know how often (if ever) this band comes to North America, but this LP has given me enough of a taste of them that I'd love to catch them live when they do.
Rating: 3.5of 5 stars
Review Summary: An album of traditional and folk music from Scotland.
This is the second album by this young Scottish band. It's filled with traditional Celtic music (including lots of fiddles, whistles, accordions, and sometimes bagpipes), as well covers of pop and folk songs by artists such as the British folk singer Kate Rusby and the Irish folk artist Barry Kerr. They also seem to be particularly inspired by the Scottish musician Gary Innes.
The music on Hex is bright-sounding, and generally quite beautiful. The band features two lead vocalists, Lucy Doogan and Calum Iain Macphail. Doogan's voice is pure and delicate, while Macphail's is a sweet male pub voice. Seven of the album's eleven tracks, however, are instrumentals.
The instrumental tracks are mostly all energetic toe-tappers -- and why not, since they were recorded with a seven-piece band? Two of them were composed by Macphail, while the others are covers of traditional music and music by a variety of Highland and Celtic artists. The songs that stuck with me the most, though, were several of the tracks with vocals. "Raven's Wing", the sole track sung by Macphail, is a soft, desperate song about alcoholism. It might be the best song on the album, although it's pushed hard by two of Doogan's numbers, the slow, exquisite "Muinntir Mo Ghraidh", and "Puirt-a-Beul", both of which seem to be sung in Scottish Gaelic. This last one starts in deliberate fashion, then gradually speeds up as the song goes on, to the point where it's impressive that Doogan can sing it without stumbling over the words (and that she can still breathe while she's singing that fast).
Hex is actually one of the more enjoyable albums I've heard in 2018. I'd have given it an extra half-star if they'd have recorded more of their own original music, although I can't really argue with their choice of cover material. (And bonus points should be given to them for recording "Muinntir Mo Ghraidh", which is a song that Doogan found in her grandmother's attic. It was written by her great-grandmother's cousin.) I don't know how often (if ever) this band comes to North America, but this LP has given me enough of a taste of them that I'd love to catch them live when they do.
Rating: 3.5of 5 stars
Wednesday, October 24, 2018
Review of Aimee Mann's "The Forgotten Arm"
I posted this review on the Sputnik Music website a little earlier this evening:
Last year, I reviewed Aimee Mann's most recent album Mental Illness (2017), a musically stark effort with songs mostly built around the acoustic guitar. Today, I'm going to write about a very different kind of Aimee Mann album, 2005's The Forgotten Arm. It's an LP that is brighter musically, but much bleaker thematically (although it does end on a ray of hope).
The Forgotten Arm is a concept album that tells a story in a series of vignettes. It's the tale of John and Caroline, two broken people who meet at the Virginia State Fair in the early 1970s, and run off together in the hopes that "sharing the burden will lighten the load." John is a sometime-boxer and a Viet Nam veteran who has come back from the war with demons and addictions. Caroline is a drifter, a marginal person who tends to run at the first sign of trouble. Together, they take off across the country in an old Cadillac, and we follow the highs, the lows and the eventual dissolution of their relationship.
Clearly, this isn't a chucklefest. What makes it not only bearable, but actually moving, is Mann's understanding of her characters, and her empathy for the way that life grinds them down. The boxer theme is important, as the concept of the "forgotten arm" refers to a phenomenon where a fighter is repeatedly hurt with a series of jabs coming from one arm so as to get so involved with the need to block them that he forgets entirely about the other one. This "forgotten arm" eventually unleashes a blow that flies past his defenses and devastates him. As you probably guessed, it's a metaphor. (Mann was a boxing enthusiast at the time, and the LP actually won a Grammy Award for the album art, which featured a series of boxing sketches throughout the booklet.)
The heart of [i]The Forgotten Arm[i] can be found within its second song, "The King of the Jailhouse". It's a slow, mournful, piano-based number with a heartbreaking chorus, as John confesses to the sleeping Caroline, "Baby, there's something wrong with me/That I can't see." Mann's voice has never been richer than it is on this track, or more poignant.
The story can be a little confusing at times -- because Mann is the sole vocalist, it's not always clear which character is singing which track. Nevertheless, the gist of it is that Caroline gets to know John well enough that she can see he is going to relapse before he's aware of it himself ("Going Through the Motions"); John tries unsuccessfully to rehab ("I Can't Get My Head Around It"); and eventually, Caroline reverts to form and runs ("I Can't Help You Anymore"). The last song on the album makes it seem as though many years later, John has overcome his problems, and he and Caroline find their way back to one another ("Beautiful"). But honestly, I've always felt that perhaps this was a fantasy ending, and that maybe Mann came to care about her two flawed lovers so much that she just couldn't stand to give them the more probable tragic ending they were always headed towards. Because, as she explained a few songs earlier, "(That's how) I knew this story would break my heart".
For awhile, Mann and Ted Leo were working on the possibility of turning The Forgotten Arm into a Broadway musical. They even had some discussions about it with a respected Broadway producer. Then Rocky: The Musical hit Broadway in 2012, and it was decided all around that the chances of two boxing-themed musicals making it to The Great White Way anytime within the same decade of one another was unlikely, so the project was suspended. Even so, this is my favorite of Aimee Mann's solo albums, and that's saying a lot. I give it three-and-a-half stars for the songs, and an extra half-star for the sympathetic characters and the ability to pull off the overall concept.
Rating: 4 of 5 stars
Review Summary: A touching musical story about an up-and-down relationship between two likable outcasts.
Last year, I reviewed Aimee Mann's most recent album Mental Illness (2017), a musically stark effort with songs mostly built around the acoustic guitar. Today, I'm going to write about a very different kind of Aimee Mann album, 2005's The Forgotten Arm. It's an LP that is brighter musically, but much bleaker thematically (although it does end on a ray of hope).
The Forgotten Arm is a concept album that tells a story in a series of vignettes. It's the tale of John and Caroline, two broken people who meet at the Virginia State Fair in the early 1970s, and run off together in the hopes that "sharing the burden will lighten the load." John is a sometime-boxer and a Viet Nam veteran who has come back from the war with demons and addictions. Caroline is a drifter, a marginal person who tends to run at the first sign of trouble. Together, they take off across the country in an old Cadillac, and we follow the highs, the lows and the eventual dissolution of their relationship.
Clearly, this isn't a chucklefest. What makes it not only bearable, but actually moving, is Mann's understanding of her characters, and her empathy for the way that life grinds them down. The boxer theme is important, as the concept of the "forgotten arm" refers to a phenomenon where a fighter is repeatedly hurt with a series of jabs coming from one arm so as to get so involved with the need to block them that he forgets entirely about the other one. This "forgotten arm" eventually unleashes a blow that flies past his defenses and devastates him. As you probably guessed, it's a metaphor. (Mann was a boxing enthusiast at the time, and the LP actually won a Grammy Award for the album art, which featured a series of boxing sketches throughout the booklet.)
The heart of [i]The Forgotten Arm[i] can be found within its second song, "The King of the Jailhouse". It's a slow, mournful, piano-based number with a heartbreaking chorus, as John confesses to the sleeping Caroline, "Baby, there's something wrong with me/That I can't see." Mann's voice has never been richer than it is on this track, or more poignant.
The story can be a little confusing at times -- because Mann is the sole vocalist, it's not always clear which character is singing which track. Nevertheless, the gist of it is that Caroline gets to know John well enough that she can see he is going to relapse before he's aware of it himself ("Going Through the Motions"); John tries unsuccessfully to rehab ("I Can't Get My Head Around It"); and eventually, Caroline reverts to form and runs ("I Can't Help You Anymore"). The last song on the album makes it seem as though many years later, John has overcome his problems, and he and Caroline find their way back to one another ("Beautiful"). But honestly, I've always felt that perhaps this was a fantasy ending, and that maybe Mann came to care about her two flawed lovers so much that she just couldn't stand to give them the more probable tragic ending they were always headed towards. Because, as she explained a few songs earlier, "(That's how) I knew this story would break my heart".
For awhile, Mann and Ted Leo were working on the possibility of turning The Forgotten Arm into a Broadway musical. They even had some discussions about it with a respected Broadway producer. Then Rocky: The Musical hit Broadway in 2012, and it was decided all around that the chances of two boxing-themed musicals making it to The Great White Way anytime within the same decade of one another was unlikely, so the project was suspended. Even so, this is my favorite of Aimee Mann's solo albums, and that's saying a lot. I give it three-and-a-half stars for the songs, and an extra half-star for the sympathetic characters and the ability to pull off the overall concept.
Rating: 4 of 5 stars
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