Aside from missing family, travel and live music, my most painful personal pandemic-related disappointment is losing a big scoop. I met with the Kansas City trio Blackstarkids on March 3 to lay the groundwork for an audio feature for KCUR. Then the coronavirus hit. A studio interview scheduled for March 13 was canceled. I’ve been quarantined ever since.

Filled with excitement about the then-unknown musicians, I told the trio of Ty, The Babe Gabe and Deoindre seven months ago that Blackstarkids is the most exciting new act from Kansas City of the past five years. Consistent with my belief that everything is precisely as popular as it should be, Blackstarkids has since blown up.

Propelled by nervous energy and the giddiness of adolescence, Blackstarkids’ debut EP Surf occupies the lane paved by members of the Odd Future collective. A bit like a mashup of Green Day and N.E.R.D, Surf captures the youthful delirium of American kids. An impressive set of outtakes indicated Surf wasn’t a fluke.

Released today, Whatever, Man may be even better. While I could do without the album’s skits, songs like “Frankie Muniz” and “Dead Kennedys” are instantly engaging partly because they retain the charming homemade production of Surf. Gabe cites Britney Spears, Fergie and Gwen Stefani as role models on "Britney Bitch". Countless members of Blackstarkids’ generation may soon harbor teenage daydreams about Gabe, Ty and Deoindre.

William Brownlee

October 19, 2020

Ooh La La

William Brownlee

October 19, 2020

I fell in love with Paris during my only visit to the City of Light about a dozen years ago. Negative stereotypes were obliterated by unfailingly gracious and accommodating locals. Ballyhooed raves about the transcendent atmosphere proved true. A pair of hushed new albums by Frenchmen are emblematic of Paris’ subtle charms.

Jazz accordionist Richard Galliano transcends the novelty of the premise. He’s held his own with the world’s top jazz musicians for decades. "Ma plus belle histoire d'amour", the opening track of Galliano’s new album Valse(s), sets the sultry tone of the gorgeous work. And you haven’t lived until you’ve heard Erik Satie’s "Gymnopédie n° 1" played on a squeezebox.

Valse(s) conveys the muted atmosphere of a romantic Parisian bistro, but En Sourdine, a collaboration between vocalist Laurent Naouri and guitarist Frédéric Loiseau, seems intended for boudoirs. An interpretation of Gabriel Fauré’s "Les berceaux" is indicative of the album’s suggestive intimacy. Naouri made his name in opera- he’s married to the charismatic star Natalie Dessay- but he practically whispers on most of the delicate chansons on the delicate En Sourdine.

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I didn’t set out to enrage readers with my unintentionally incendiary K.C. Blues series at Plastic Sax. Honestly, I’ve already made each of my points several times. I published the third installment of the four-part series yesterday.

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Opera update: I’m up to 211 operas in 211 days. The last few screenings were uninspiring. I hope my first viewing of Franz Lehár’s “Die lustige Witwe” snaps my cold streak this evening.

William Brownlee

October 17, 2020

Album Review: Anja Lechner and François Couturier- Lontano

William Brownlee

October 17, 2020

I wondered if I was on my deathbed four hours after receiving a seasonal flu shot three days ago. Thankfully, the alarming diminishment of my lifeblood quickly dissipated. The tone of Lontano, the new album by German cellist Anja Lechner and French pianist François Couturier, matches the weary sense of resignation I experienced. Fluttering between planes of existence, I was overcome by bittersweet reflections of my time on Earth. A recent 82-minute concert by the duo exudes a similar otherworldliness even without the signature ethereal ECM Records ambiance enhancing Lontano.

William Brownlee

October 15, 2020

Jon Gibson, 1940-2020

William Brownlee

October 15, 2020

I had only a passing familiarity with Jon Gibson’s name when he died this week. In its obituary of Gibson, Pitchfork notes he “performed in the premieres of Terry Riley’s In C in 1964 and Steve Reich’s Drumming in the early 1970s... Gibson was also a founding member of the Philip Glass Ensemble.” Are you kidding me! Gibson was the Zelig of American minimalism.

I’m confident I was on the cusp of catching up with Gibson. I traveled to outsider music festivals in 2018 and 2019. And I heard Max Richter and the American Contemporary Music Ensemble in Austin last year. Three Bang on a Can Marathons and viewings of Glass’ “Akhnaten” and "Einstein on the Beach" expanded my ears even further in recent months.

The enlightening experiences primed me for Gibson’s Songs & Melodies, 1973-77. Although it was released in February, I only investigated the compilation upon receiving news of Gibson’s death.

Each of the seven compositions on the 80-minute reissue is more transparently emotional than the works of Reich and Glass. The varying instrumentation and textures are made congruent by Gibson’s minimalism-meets-New Age treatments. The particularly expressive "Melody IV" allows me to properly grieve the loss of the important artist.

William Brownlee

October 13, 2020

Album Review: Metz- Atlas Vending

William Brownlee

October 13, 2020

As an impressionable teen during the punk revolution, I bought into rigid credos I now know are hogwash. The Canadian band Metz breaks a few of the bogus rules on the opening track of its new album Atlas Vending. "Pulse" overlays what could be the catchiest riff from Led Zeppelin’s sinuous “Dancing Days” over bleak Gang of Four-style scaffolding. True punks know that’s against the rules! Metz’s willful disregard of the dilapidated form’s restrictive codes is invigorating. Unrelenting rage and artistic abandon makes Metz one of the relatively few purveyors of guitar-based rock that doesn’t sound ridiculous in 2020.

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I continue to aggravate Kansas City jazz pollyannas at Plastic Sax.

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Opera update: Although necessity dictated I slightly expand my parameters, the streak is still alive. I recommend the remarkable treatment Staatsoper Hannover gives to Handel's gorgeous “oratorio Il trionfo del tempo e del disinganno.” The drab production of Beethoven’s “Fidelio” I began watching during lunch today will be #207 in 207 days.

William Brownlee

October 10, 2020

Album Review: Marilyn Crispell and Angelica Sanchez- How to Turn the Moon

William Brownlee

October 10, 2020

Instinct implores me to flee when I spot more than one piano on a stage. Multiple pianos are almost always a terrible idea. I was incensed when Jay McShann’s elegant simplicity was diluted by fellow keyboardist Ralph Sutton at a concert decades ago. And I’m still traumatized by an ill-advised tribute to Phineas Newborn Jr. featuring pianists Donald Brown, Geoff Keezer, Harold Mabern, Mulgrew Miller and James Williams.

Less is almost always more, but I’m making an exception for How to Turn the Moon. The new album of piano duets features Marilyn Crispell in the right channel and Angelica Sanchez in the left channel. Heard through speakers, the album alternates between dynamic blasts of righteous skronk and quiet meditations on entropy. The distinct sound field revealed by headphones offers a far more nuanced experience.

The thoughtful interactions aren’t limited to 166 keys. The musicians probe the guts of their pianos on “Space Junk” and sound as if they’re tormenting harpsichords on “Ancient Dream.” While tracks including “Windfall Light” and “Free In Web” brush against jazz, most of the improvisations on How to Turn the Moon are entirely free from swing. Crispell and Sanchez’s vanquishing of my fight-or-flight impulse may compel me to reconsider all of my ingrained musical biases.

William Brownlee

October 7, 2020

I'm Going Home

William Brownlee

October 7, 2020

News of the deaths of Johnny Nash, Eddie Van Halen and Reverend John Wilkins hit me like a sorrowful triple-whammy yesterday. Yet a report about the premature death of a family member hours later truly devastated me. That’s why I’m not listening to “Eruption” or “I Can See Clearly Now” today. Instead, I’m taking solace in the Memphis gospel of the Wilkins clan. Discovering the cryptic country blues songs of Robert Wilkins including his famous "That's No Way to Get Along" thrilled me decades ago. His music continues to inspire me. I raved about You Can’t Hurry God, the debut album of Robert’s son Reverend John Wilkins at There Stands the Glass in 2010. And I just learned of the September release of Trouble, Wilkins’ solid second album. The best part? The prominent contributions of three of Robert’s talented granddaughters suggests the inspiring Wilkins family tradition will continue.

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I defended my daily opera initiative on KCUR’s Up To Date program yesterday.

William Brownlee

October 5, 2020

When I Think About the Good Love You Gave Me

William Brownlee

October 5, 2020

Rendered senseless by a regrettable quantity of liquid courage, I’d go with “I’m Your Puppet” or “Cry Like a Baby” at a bar’s karaoke night. As with many Dan Penn compositions, the melodies and lyrics are so ingratiating that sympathetic people would likely mask my caterwauling by heartily singing along. Furthermore, both familiar classics justify the ridiculous gesticulating that come naturally to me. Penn, 78, the writer or co-writer of the Southern soul classics “Do Right Woman, Do Write Man,” “It Tears Me Up,” “Rainbow Road” and “The Dark End of the Street” in addition to “I’m Your Puppet” and Cry Like a Baby,” released another set of lived-in story songs in June. The unassuming Living on Mercy is packed with gems worthy of Penn’s legacy. Soul revivalists and honky tonk traditionalists would do well to incorporate “Soul Connection” and “I Do” into their repertoires. I’ve already added the graphic heartbreak of "Blue Motel" to my hypothetical karaoke routine.

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The Kansas City musician Steve Phillips has died. All the reports I’ve seen focus on the guitarist’s membership in the Celtic rock band The Elders. I first became aware of Phillips through Steve, Bob & Rich’s frequent performances at the Westport club Blayney’s in the 1980s. The trio became the core of the hit-making heartland rock band The Rainmakers after my one-time associate Peter Lubin signed the musicians to Mercury Records.

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The only thing worse than absorbing a hurtful insult is the gnawing suspicion the dismissal is warranted. I began an impertinent analysis of the listlessness bedeviling Kansas City’s jazz scene at Plastic Sax.

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An extremely imaginative staging of Jean-Philippe Rameau’s “Les Indes Galantes” demonstrates how an archaic 300-year-old opera can be made relevant. The dazzling German production was the 196th installment of my daily opera marathon.

William Brownlee

October 1, 2020

Well, You Needn’t

William Brownlee

October 1, 2020

I revere Thelonious Monk. So why didn’t I join the rapturous chorus of giddy anticipation for Palo Alto? The release of the live 1968 recording is widely hailed as one of the most momentous jazz events of the year. For starters, I already own live sets by Monk’s quartet of saxophonist Charlie Rouse, bassist Larry Gales and Ben Riley. It seemed silly to flip my lid over another session. The pages dedicated to the unlikely high school gig are among the most interesting sections of Robin D.G. Kelley’s essential but often tedious 2009 biography of the icon. The backstory is further explored in a podcast promoting Palo Alto that’s almost as interesting as the actual recording. Still, any additional documentation of the singular American genius is a cause for celebration. I suppose I’m finally singing from the same hymnbook after all.

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I provide context for We The People’s new album in my review of Misunderstood at Plastic Sax.