Album Review: Jimmy Edgar- Cheetah Bend

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

The leaky filter allowing foolish thoughts to flow unimpeded from my lizard brain to my scratchy vocal chords regularly gets me into trouble. I inexplicably felt obliged to validate pop music in the first episode of my new podcast In My Headache. Pop doesn’t need me to defend it, particularly when innovative artists like Jimmy Edgar continue to keep the form vital. Cheetah Bend, the sound scientist’s latest full-length release, features winning appearances by like-minded collaborators including Danny Brown, Rochelle Jordan and the late Sophie. The album contains more interesting tones, textures and rhythms than the plugged-in jazz group and the extreme noise band I praise in my initial endeavor for In My Headache.

Annual Willie Nelson Appreciation Post

Original image of Austin by There Stands the Glass.

Willie Nelson has had a greater impact on me than any other musician. I was raised on his music and continue to take comfort and inspiration in his timeless songs, distinctive voice and jazz-based guitar playing. The release of each new Nelson album was a big event in my home when I was a child. Stardust expanded my worldview in 1978. Nelson’s renditions of “September Song,” “Someone to Watch Over Me” and the title track introduced me to the standards. I still love Nelson’s approach to the Great American Songbook. That's Life, Nelson’s second album of songs associated with Frank Sinatra, was released February 26. Fresh interpretations of “Cottage for Sale,” “You Make Me Feel So Young” and “In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning” provide new insights into the familiar songs. While excellent, That’s Life ranks in the middle of Nelson’s 71 studio albums. Long may his “world keep spinning around”.

February 2021 Recap: A Monthly Exercise in Critical Transparency

Screenshot of Cicely Tyson and Sammy Davis Jr. in the trailer for A Man Called Adam by There Stands the Glass.

Top Ten Albums (released in February)

1. Benoît Delbecq- The Weight of Light

My review.

2. Pooh Shiesty- Shiesty Season

Brrrrd.

3. Benjamin Grosvenor- Liszt

My review.

4. Quatuor Bozzini- Alvin Lucier: Navigations

Creepy drones and controlled cacophonies.

5. Archie Shepp and Jason Moran- Let My People Go

A feast in the wilderness.

6. Femi and Made Kuti- Legacy+: Stop the Hate and For(e)ward

Family tradition.

7. Cassandra Jenkins- An Overview on Phenomenal Nature

Astral minutes.

8. Tindersticks- Distractions

Focused.

9. Pink Sweat$- Pink Planet

Softer than John Legend.

10. R+R=Now- Live

Genius plus hubris equals fascinating complications.

Top Ten Songs (released in February)

1. Syd- "Missing Out"

Fomo.

2. Nana Yamato- “Burning Desire’

Temperature rising.

3. H.E.R.- "Fight For You"

Throwback anthem.

4. Kevin Gates- "Plug Daughter 2"

Roadside assistance.

5. Polo G- "GNF (OKOKOK)"

I care a lot.

6. Cardi B- "Up"

Once upon a time...

7. Ariana Grande- “Test Drive”

Ride or die.

8. Cherry Glazerr- "Big Bang"

Universal.

9. Sada K- "You"

Nothing compares.

10 Nick Cave and Warren Ellis- “Albuquerque”

Stasis.

Top Ten Movies (viewed for the first time in February, in lieu of live music)

1. A Man Called Adam (1966)

Miles ahead.

2. The Silver Chalice (1954)

Astoundingly bad or exceptionally good?

3. The Golden Coach (1952)

Jean Renoir’s luminescent critique of colonialism.

4. The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter (1968)

An odd but stellar interpretation of Carson McCullers’ novel.

5. It Should Happen to You (1954)

Judy Holliday and Jack Lemmon are adorable.

6. Juarez (1939)

¡Viva México!

7. Native Son (1951)

Richard Wright stars in an uneven rendering of his classic work.

8. Murder, She Said (1961)

Margaret Rutherford as Miss Marple is just too much.

9. Treasure Island (1934)

Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum.

10. His House (2020)

Political asylum as horror.

January’s recap and a link to last year’s monthly surveys is here.

In My Headache

A couple friends and I collaborated on one of the first 100 podcasts more than 15 years ago. The endeavor was such a juvenile mess that I won’t even link to it here. I’m back at it. The first episode of In My Headache, a partnership with Aaron Rhodes of Shuttlecock Music Magazine, will be available next week. The trailer is embedded above.

The Human Soul Likes to Go Away Alone

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

Concerned for my welfare, my life partner insisted I meet with my favorite physician last Thursday.  The conscientiously frank doctor told me that in addition to looking ill, I was far too skinny.  I agree with her first point.

After managing adequately for nine months, I was finally broken by the quarantine in late December.  Like millions of other people, I miss seeing friends and my extended family.  I miss traveling.  I miss working.  I miss breathing fresh warm air.  Insomnia aggravates my restlessness.

Even though I’m no longer quarantine thick- I’ve dropped nine pounds in the past three weeks- I’m still 11 pounds from my weight goal.  My doctor’s insistence that a bit of extra padding is healthy won’t put me back into 32-waist pants.

Still despondent and anemic on Friday, I didn’t binge on the plethora of new music as is my weekly custom.  Instead, I watched Grand Théâtre de Genève’s exquisite production of Claude Debussy’s Pelléas et Mélisande in one sitting.  Filmed without an audience in January, it’s the best of the three renditions of the deliriously lethargic work I’ve seen.  The existential libretto and body contortions of the dance troupe heightened my malaise and body image issues.

I lay in bed listening to pianist Benjamin Grosvenor’s new album Liszt as my stomach growled and my head spun following Debussy’s 167-minute opera. An ignorant rube, I wasn’t familiar with Liszt’s electrifying “Années de pèlerinage II, S. 161.” I’m still reeling from the transformative enlightenment that walloped me at the 3:37 mark.

Kids at Concerts

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

The death of U-Roy compelled me to excavate a favorite family photo.  The image above shows an exceedingly relaxed member of my brood at a 1996 reggae festival at Penn Valley Park in Kansas City.  If memory serves, U-Roy and Burning Spear were the headliners.

My history of dragging kids to concerts began in utero.  Upon spotting my pregnant wife dancing to Buckwheat Zydeco in 1994, the late George Myers, co-owner of the Grand Emporium, hustled us out of his fabled nightclub.  Myers was aghast at what he considered our grossly irresponsible behavior. Several months later, a pediatrician scolded us when informed we intended to take the baby to Royals Stadium.  He shrieked “will she know she’s at a baseball game?”  We dismissed his warning.

Our kids attended countless concerts without incident.  The good times ended in 2004 with simultaneous meltdowns midway through a Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson concert at a minor league baseball stadium.  I’m no longer tethered to tots, but I’m gladdened every time I spot children at events intended for adults.

I Hate Music(als)

Screenshot of Lise Leplat Prudhomme in Jeannette, l'enfance de Jeanne d'Arc by There Stands the Glass.

I was terribly mistaken when I thought trading operas for musicals would make my life easier. The majority of the 285 operas I watched last year captivated and edified me. I gain comparatively little from the musicals I’ve screened in the opening weeks of 2021. Two deeply flawed productions illustrate the distress caused by my self-imposed burden. The tawdry sexuality and dorky humor in a 1981 staging of Pippin: His Life and Times starring Ben Vereen and Chita Rivera make it one of the most insufferable shows I’ve encountered. Devil horns replace jazz hands in the loopy Jeannette, l'enfance de Jeanne d'Arc. Everything about the heavy metal musical loosely based on the childhood of Joan of Arc is ridiculous. And I love it. The 2017 film delights me as much as Pippin enrages me. In spite of my reservations, the show must go on.

Album Review: Benoît Delbecq- The Weight of Light

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

What’s on my mind?  I’m little different than many of my friends and neighbors.  The impeachment hearing and bitterly cold weather recently aggravated the surreal purgatory accompanying the draining wait for inoculation shots.

But what’s in my mind?  The French pianist Benoît Delbecq captures my melancholy disposition on his new album The Weight of Light.  In what feels like a magic trick of telepathic synchronicity, Delbecq’s recital mirrors my agitated sense of impatience and hope.

Delbecq’s meditative approach to prepared piano also elucidates the mysteries of the sacred texts I study each day. The Weight of Light could be characterized as jazz, but it sounds more like music John Cage might have composed for use in Egyptian ceremonial rites three thousand years ago.

Chick Corea, 1941-2021

Original image of Chick Corea and bassist Carlitos Del Puerto at the Kansas City Jazz & Heritage Festival in 2017 by There Stands the Glass.

Two sounds battled for supremacy among my peers in a Midwestern suburban subdivision during the mid-’70s.  The elaborate prog-rock of bands like Emerson, Lake & Palmer dominated the record collections of many of my friends.  Others preferred the brash jazz fusion typified by The Tony Williams Lifetime.

The members of the occasionally combative camps found common ground in Chick Corea.  I heard Corea-affiliated albums such as Return to Forever’s prog/fusion rampage Romantic Warrior far more often than I might have liked.  Drawn to more mainstream artists ranging from Aerosmith to Stevie Wonder, I wasn’t a true believer.

Everything changed when I heard Crystal Silence, Corea’s duet album with Gary Burton, six or seven years after its 1972 release.  The pristine set served as one of my primary gateways into acoustic jazz.  I’ve since spent more than four decades studying every nook and cranny of Corea’s extensive and wildly eclectic catalog.

I was elated to see Corea and Burton recreate Crystal Silence at the Gem Theater in 2012. And I took it personally when only about 250 people attended Corea’s afternoon set at the Kansas City Jazz & Heritage Festival in 2017. Corea died earlier this week. Sadly, I’m unable to commiserate with the boys who introduced me to Corea. My last remaining close friend from that era died last year.

Fantasia

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

My desire to continue exploring new sounds seems to intensify every day.  I want to hear it all.  I occasionally fear my compulsion for music discovery will eventually hit a dead end.  What if I exhaust every possibility?

As the old saw has it, I don’t know what I don’t know.  An initial encounter with Ferruccio Busoni a couple days ago indicates I’ll die long before there’s nothing left for me to uncover.

Lowell Liebermann’s rendering of Busoni’s “Fantasia contrappuntistica”on his new album Personal Demons transfixed me.  I soon learned Busoni was a celebrated pianist as well as an inventive composer. There’s something spellbinding about the compromised sonic quality of Busoni’s 1922 recordings.  A vast trove of recorded Busoni works awaits me.  

Perhaps I should be grateful rather than ashamed for having learned most everything I know about music aside from outlaw country through independent study.  As an increasingly committed autodidact, I recognize my education is just beginning.

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I rank all but one of Pat Metheny’s 46 albums at Plastic Sax.