Mayer Hawthorne’s latest funk-soul offering sprinkles more 70’s sounds into the stew of retro-soul (or is it “neo-Motown”?) he’d been serving up on his previous two albums. I appreciate the man’s willingness to try a number of styles, sounds and lyrical themes, although what it produces is a real mixed bag. The difference between Where Does This Door Go and its predecessors is that the high points point a little higher.
“Wine Glass Woman” is like Steely Dan Lite, which is hardly a bad thing. “Robot Love” mimics the falsetto croon of the likes of Curtis Mayfield. And “The Stars Are Ours” thieves the rhythm of Stevie Wonder’s “Higher Ground” just as Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines” borrowed that of Marvin Gaye’s “Got to Give it Up”.
When I tell people what a great album William Shatner’s Has Been is I’m consistently misunderstood. I know I have a snarky sense of humor at times. I know I often tend to communicate by saying the opposite of what I actually mean. But as unlikely a scenario as you might find it to be, I’m dead serious when I tell you this is a very, very good pop album.
And no, I don’t “like it ironically”. Albeit elements of novelty abound, this record is not in the category of Shatner’s 1960’s cheese-fest The Transformed Man, which can only be appreciated in the ironic sense. Rather than spotlight Bill Shatner the untalented singer as that spectacularly bad album did, producer Ben Folds plays to Shatner’s strengths here–namely, his ability to deliver dramatic spoken lyric. It works.
When Folds signed on to produce and arrange this record (he and Shatner had worked together before, on Folds’ Fear of Pop project) he didn’t check his keen pop sensibilities at the door. The music here is top-notch, not to mention quite diverse.
And the guest performances are inspired. Listen for Joe Jackson’s impassioned take on the cover of Pulp’s “Common People”, the well-cast Henry Rollins on the duet/litany of general complaints “I Can’t Get Behind That”, or Brad Paisley taking a heartfelt turn on the chorus of “Real”. Folds himself takes vocals and piano on the tale of father/daughter estrangement “That’s Me Trying”. Folds’ plaintive melody and vocal delivery complement Shatner’s lamentation here perfectly.
Interlaced among all that is the astonishingly broadly-talented Mr. Shatner delivering what are at times shockingly honest and confessional-sounding self-penned lyrics. Most extreme example (not featured here) is “What Have You Done”, an unblinking account of Shatner’s discovery of his wife, dead in the couple’s swimming pool.
The guy has stones, or happens to be at the station in life when he just doesn’t give a shit anymore what people think. Probably both.
The album’s title track is possibly its highlight. Not only is it a brilliant musical lampoon of a now-obscure 60’s pop sub-genre typified by Lorne Greene’s “Ringo”, but it serves perfectly as a (hilarious) raised middle finger to Shat’s critics. Good for him.
Of course he’s Captain James T. Kirk to most. But the list of William Shatner’s accomplishments–best-selling author, successful horse breeder, Priceline commercial icon, Emmy-winning Denny Crane, and of course, a singer of sorts–is admirable. As he says in the album’s final track, “Real”:
And while there’s a part of me
In that guy you’ve seen up there on that screen
I am so much more
While I’m dead serious about how good an album this is, the chief reason to listen is that It’s good fun.
A band perhaps known as much for notable alumni (Sandy Denny, Richard Thompson) as for their actual recorded legacy, Fairport Convention nevertheless are among the most prominent of the bands who helped preserve England’s traditional folk song and expose new generations to it by melding it with contemporary rock.
By 1995 Fairport were almost thirty years into a career rife with lineup changes and fluctuations in quality of musical output. But Jewel in the Crown is a jewel indeed–a highlight of their later output.
The samples below represent Fairport’s typical mix of new contemporary writing and more traditional-sounding pastoral English folk, from the political (the smackdown of British colonization in the title track) to the traditional (“Kind Fortune”), to the newly-written tune that sounds like a traditional (“London Danny”) to the instrumental (the beautifully-rendered Ric Sanders fiddle tune, “Summer in December”).
It makes for a great introduction to the band, not to mention the genre. If it whets an appetite for British folk, you could do worse than to check out Steeleye Span’s All Around My Hat next.
My current musical infatuation, and the stuff I’ve been playing at antisocial decibel levels lately, is that of Swedish prog band Moon Safari. For fans of sunny, uplifting, non-metal influenced prog (as well as bands like Styx from a bygone era) this prolific band is worth checking out.
Moon Safari feature perhaps the strongest vocals in all of progressive rock. Their harmonies are like nothing in the genre, sounding more like a combination of 70’s bands such as Ambrosia and 50’s close harmony acts like the Four Freshmen–or even the Beach Boys.
Songwriting too is an obvious strength. These Swedes have mastered classic long-form prog, but keep things appealing throughout, with guitar and synth lines that grow on the listener with repeated listening. You won’t find the staggering musicianship of Yes or ELP here–song, melody and harmony are the areas of greater focus. But then again, the only 20+ minute song I’ve ever found worth listening to from beginning to end was by this band and not one of the aforementioned classic acts.
They seem to keep to the type of release schedule more befitting a 70’s prog band as well, with a massive double album due this September adding to two other releases since 2010.
This is a little elegy for another band that deserved a little more love. Athens, Georgia’s Modern Skirts were built around the vocals of guitarist Jay Gulley and the keyboards of JoJo Glidewell, and for a couple albums their winning melodic indie pop formula showed great promise. The Skirts could muster two disparate moods effectively, and both the affecting melancholy and the rollicking feel-good piano driven vibe are represented in the attached songs.
The band’s third album, Gramahawk, however, was a pointed musical retrenchment. They weren’t the same gentle folk pop band they had been–it was like having a Pet Sounds dropped on fans waiting for another “Help Me, Rhonda”. Except I’m not sure it was good.
But Catalogue of Generous Men, their full-length debut, is heartbreakingly so, and deserved to break them on a wider scale. The frustrations of being a fan of such a band–seeing the CDs go out of print, watching in vain for a concert tour that brings them out of their own region to a nearby town–culminated for me today when I read they’d broken up just a couple months ago.
A song like “City Lights” is the perfect soundtrack for the moment of losing a band you love. Pardon my wallowing for a moment.
I invite you to share the high point in the career of one more talented group–and by all accounts a great bunch of guys too–who never grabbed the brass ring, but left us with a few golden moments.
What a joy it is to belatedly discover a really good album that you’d previously missed from a decade gone by.
Another great feeling is that of associating a newfound piece of music with a newfound friend (an “F.N.T.” if you will) who makes their entrance onto the stage of your life on cue just as the metaphorical needle hits the groove. Life is beautiful in that moment…
Recently I experienced the magical confluence of both experiences on one unforgettable day and evening. It was a reminder of just how much both friends and music can enrich our lives. Certainly I feel abundantly blessed on both counts.
So, about this album…
Semisonic are known mostly for their top ten 1998 hit “Closing Time”. And so often when a band’s career climaxes with a single massive hit, the work they did previous to it remains undiscovered by the masses.
I won’t argue for Great Divide to be recognized as some kind of lost masterpiece–just a real enjoyable listen for fans of 90’s rock. Or, as Rolling Stone described it, “a record of simple but sparkling modern pop.”
Hard to imagine this one missed the album charts completely.
Every Moment Has A Song 