Today I played an album coming out early in 2017 that I found completely unclassifiable. Rare. (Yeah, you can use one of those handy-dandy/meaningless multiple-genre strings to identify it, but it was something that had its own identity I had not heard before.)
Am I gonna find some way to write about it? Oh yeh.
The Chinese chef of this household has an opinion of General Tso’s Chicken that’s unprintable. And our taste buds align right up on this one. As this obit makes clear, the wretchedness is not the fault of the creator of the dish.
Have to add, through no calculation of their own, this turns out to be the most apt year to release a blues album since back when they did that alla time.
Is this merely a return to roots that they could do in their sleep? Maybe, but it’s very carefully selected, arranged and produced and most important, the Stones don’t sound bored for a moment. After all, with the exception of A Bigger Bang they’ve sounded bored by at least one or two of their new originals on every album they’ve released for decades and decades.
However — “we’re taking the blues forward and hopefully introducing them to a whole new generation of fans” — let’s not push it, Mick. I think damn near everyone who will listen to this album knows about the blues already.
Favorite revived obscurity: Howlin’ Wolf’s “Commit a Crime”
Finest remake: Little Johnny Taylor’s “Everybody Knows About My Good Thing”
Shakiest remake: Otis Rush’s “I Can’t Quit You Baby” (but maybe this is just me — I regard Rush’s original as one of the untouchable apexes of the form)
Oops, almost forgot to mention: Mick’s harp playing is mighty buffed-up from the old days. He’ll never be Little Walter, but he’s always fluent in his own way.
More than 5,300 views for November — a record. All praise to Charlie Pierce for his Twitter plug and thanks extra to those who checked out Miles To Go and Decided to stay. Daily traffic is up and has surpassed even it’s high in March this year.
Yep, plainly a big meatball.
Two-LP Los Lochis collection. First thing by them I’ve heard.
Never symphonic or operatic (or much for vocals at all) — Brava!
Sounds much like Sun City Girls at times — Mierda!
Elza Soares, The Woman at the End of the World (A Mulher do Fin do Mundo) (Maisium Discos)
This was sent to me to coordinate with the Olympics in Brazil and I was captivated by it from the first spin. But I had never heard of Elza Soares before. I insist I owe it to my audience to know where something I’m touting fits into the body of the performer’s work (for all I knew, this could have been one of her duller releases). But it took me so long to get a mid-period fusion album and an early straight-Brazilian pop release that Woman at the End of the World was too long gone. And it is a marvel because at a way advanced age she has cut her most radical and avant album. Remains an important year-end story.