High Bias aural fixations
February 3, 2002

THE BAD WIZARD
Free and Easy
(Tee Pee)
It's easy to hear why NYC quintet the Bad Wizard had to leave its original spawning ground of Athens, GA. It's hard to imagine the college/indie rock Mecca knowing what to do with a band like this. The four dudes and one chick that comprise this fierce little combo don't give two shits about being cool, innovative or politically correct—they just wanna rock, goddammit, and woe be to anybody who gets in their way. On their debut Free and Easy, Eddie Lynch and Tina Gorin whip up a veritable tornado of roaring slide licks, piercing solos and brick-smashing power chords, whilst bassist Steve Tanner and drummer Scott Nutt barely keep the conflagration grounded. Standing in the eye of the hurricane is frontman Curtis Brown, howling like a mongrel dog that knows it's about to be blown out of existence but is gonna go down baring its fangs. Some of the band's Southern rock heritage appears in flashes, though it's mostly steamrollered by the relentless turbo drive, like Molly Hatchet after way too many amphetamines. Powered by supercharged riffs and Brown's savage exhortations, "Hey Mama," "Natural High" and "Lay Your Love On Me" sound like classic rock songs from hell, proof that the devil's got the best tunes. By the end of this brief but satisfying record, if you're not joining in the call and response of "Come On," sell your leather jacket and move back to Athens. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: Nashville Pussy, Electric Frankenstein, the Gaza Strippers

ARCHIE EDWARDS
The Toronto Sessions
(NorthernBlues Music)
Archie Edwards, who passed away in 1998, was a Virginia native, and thus a fingerpicking blues man in the "Piedmont" tradition. Though he played professionally from the thirties until his death, he kept a variety of day jobs. Like many blues men, Edwards' recorded output was sporadic at best. The Toronto Sessions, which was recorded in 1986, was not released prior to now.

And what a find it is. Time and time again the songs, which all feature just voice and guitar, speak truthfully and resonate beautifully. From the opening moments of "I Had a Little Girl," with Edwards' jaunty dobro picking and subtle voice, this one is addicting. He runs through several originals, standards and combinations thereof; Edwards had a knack for knowing a line or a verse of an old song and "quilting" his own out of it. "Pittsburgh Blues," about the same "little girl" from the opener, is like a time trip to the thirties.

This is a perfect CD for driving through the countryside on a windy spring day. Essential listening for any blues fan. Brian Briscoe [buy it]

For fans of: Blind Boy Fuller, Lightnin' Hopkins, Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee

JON DEE GRAHAM
hooray for the moon.
(New West)
Escape From Monster Island and Summerland, the first two albums by Austin-based songwriter Jon Dee Graham, are fine records that chronicle the trials and triumphs of single fatherdom and adulthood with maturity and grace. But they both lack one of the defining elements of the veteran musician's talent: his smashing guitar work. For nearly 20 years, Graham was best known for his fiery string-slinging with the Skunks, the True Believers, Kelly Willis and John Doe. On these solo records, though, he favored an acoustic guitar and arrangements that highlighted his songs and gravel-voiced delivery. While his desire to draw attention away from his axe and more toward his tunes is understandable, it sometimes seemed like the born-again troubadour had forgotten how to rock.

Hooray for the moon., his third album, brings back his electric sizzle in a big way, without sacrificing his adult outlook and hard-won experience. While there are still plenty of introspective ballads, including the surpassingly lovely "I Go Too" and the effervescent "Something Moves," a goodly chunk of this disk is the kind of shot glass-shattering roots rock at Joe Ely used to be so good. "Waiting For a Sign" finds Graham and his co-guitarist Mike Hardwick switching from acoustic slide to electric bombast to stirring effect, while "Laredo (Small Dark Something)" and "The Restraining Order Song" (the requisite stalker ode every songwriter must by law attempt) features enough axe-mangling to satisfy a dozen air guitarists. A crunchy cover of Tom Waits' "Down in the Hole" simply kills, and there's an affectionate run through the Tex-Mex standard "Volver," done in tribute to the border radio Graham grew up listening to along the Rio Grande. Stellar remakes of his True Believers tunes "Home" and "One Moment" (perhaps his greatest song) highlight the album without taking anything away from the other tunes. The combination of six-string fire and his most satisfying set of songs to date makes hooray for the moon. Jon Dee Graham's best album yet. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: early Joe Henry, Chuck Prophet, Bruce Cockburn

HASIDIC NEW WAVE & YAKAR RHYTHMS
From the Belly of Abraham
(Knitting Factory)
Klezmer fusion meets Senegalese percussion on From the Belly of Abraham, Hasidic New Wave's fifth CD. What we have here is a cleansing, a scrubbing of all the repetitive rock backbeats from the cerebellum. Hasidic New Wave, inventive by reputation, brings in Senegalese drummers Yakar Rhythms to augment its muse. "Waaw-Waaw" dangles a sax and trumpet motif over hypnotic, pulsating skins. "Yemin Hashem" is mournful and epic until the percussion ushers in a funky countergroove. "Frydginator" flirts with the conventional, with its frantic Klezmer unison, until guitarist David Fiuczynski leaps into the middle and stuffs convention down the garbage disposal. Indeed, on a CD replete with amazing rhythmic alchemy, Fiuczynski in particular shines. Trumpeter Frank London and saxman Greg Wall play across African grooves like they were born to it, but Fiuczynski re-invents phrasing in ways that would have made Miles smile (or at least scowl a little less).

Hasidic New Wave demonstrates uncanny vision by collaborating with Yakar Rhythms. If you've ever shuddered at the term "fusion," From the Belly of Abraham will cast out your presuppositions and prejudices. Brian Briscoe

For fans of: Last Exit, Morphine, the Afro-Cuban All Stars

DARIN MURPHY
Haunted Gardenias
(Rafgard)
It's hard to be an unabashed power popper in Austin, Texas. The River City is best known for its many variations on American roots music (blues, outlaw country, rockabilly, conjunto, etc.), but the town is also host to a vibrant pop scene, and singer/songwriter/one-man-band Darin Murphy is one of its leading lights. His debut album Solitarium garnered tons of acclaim in underground pop circles around the globe. If the gods be kind, then his sophomore effort will find its way into bigger fields. Haunted Gardenias finds the gifted Texan honing his melodic skills to a razor-keen edge. Enhanced by crisp guitars, rock-solid rhythms and Murphy's instantly appealing voice (reminiscent of Toy Matinee's Kevin Gilbert), the hooks in tracks like the rollicking opener "Metro B," the lovely ballad "Masterpiece" and the witty "Blackberry Plain" resonate with Beatlesque grandeur. In fact, "Turning Into You" sounds like the John Lennon/George Harrison songwriting collaboration of a Beatlemaniac's fantasies. That's not to say that Murphy is yet another wannabe aping the Fab Four; rather, he's assimilated the lessons the masters taught into his own candy-apple art. A perfect example is "The Heavens Cried For You," an emotionally wrenching ballad that sounds like no one but Murphy. The pinnacle, though, is "Boxing Day," a beautiful and ultra-catchy affirmation of love that will probably find its way into future wedding receptions. It's the kind of smart, satisfying cut that would sound great playing under a scene in Gilmore Girls, not only underlining the poignancy of the action but also impressing the hell out of you with the music supervisor's hip choice. Haunted Gardenias gives great pop. Michael Toland

For fans of: Owsley, Michael Penn, Brendan Benson

SEBA
Ewa!
(Tinder)
Paris' Seba, which consists of six transplanted Algerian brothers, debuts with a dozen tightly funky, cross-cultural pop songs on Ewa! As slick and catchy as this is, with 4/4 backbeats beneath much of the percussive palette, Seba sounds like nothing found on American pop radio (which is a good start). Listen to "Zina Zina," with its dusty violin, or the flamenco rhythms that permeate "Chouft"—Destiny's Child this ain't. Lead singer Abdel-Ouab Seba's emotional tenor is a fine instrument to front the lush sibling harmonies and relentless grooves. The band works best when they paste fewer western clichés (like vocal samples) on top of their songs; "Nomades," for example, is driven by nylon-string acoustic guitar and flute melodies, and it's all the more beautiful for it. "Loukane" melds layered vocals and violin to cast an otherworldly spell.

On the few occasions when Seba settles for the ordinary, such as on the goofy pseudo-reggae of "Bladna," Ewa! threatens to go astray. Instead of a dozen songs, this CD should have been cut to nine or ten. But when they're cooking, which is most of the time, Seba concocts an exotic pop brew. Brian Briscoe [buy it]

For fans of: Chico Cesar, Habib Koité, Djamel Allam

SOUNDTRACK
Mark Twain
(Legacy)
Since the release of the soundtrack to the Coen brothers' O Brother, Where Art Thou? in 2000—which featured folky, acoustic arrangements of homespun American standards such as "I Am A Man of Constant Sorrow"—there has been a resurgence of interest in what some dub "roots music." Yet the Coens cannot take all the credit for this new interest in America's old music. The roots of this current revival of roots music can be traced to the 1990 release of the Grammy-winning soundtrack to The Civil War, Ken Burns' landmark PBS documentary that recounted the origins and course of this nation's most divisive struggle. Drawing in part upon the talents of fifth-generation Alabama fiddler Bobby Horton and Vermont pianist Jacqueline Schwab, Burns created a moving musical accompaniment to his monumental story.

Now, with the release of the soundtrack to Burns' Mark Twain—an account of a one-time Missouri "scruff" who became America's most acclaimed humorist—the director and his team of musicians offer another contribution to the revival they sparked. Attempting to capture the spirit and contradictions of Samuel Langhorne Clemens (Twain's real name), Horton and Schwab join with other musicians, such as Fiddlin' Johnny and mandolin player Ed Ostrouchko, to create down-to-earth yet elegiac versions of such classics as "Sweet Betsy from Pike," "The Maple Leaf Rag" and "How Can I Keep From Singing?" The arrangements are at turns wistful, melancholy or rollicking. Burns calls them an "emotional metronome" to his documentary. On the whole, the selections are well-crafted and, as a nineteenth-century reviewer might say, "pleasing to the ear."

Interspersed between these tracks are brief passages from Twain's work illustrating the writer's sharp, often acerbic wit: "I believe our heavenly father invented the monkey because he was disappointed in man." Ironically, these quotes point out a shortcoming of this album as a soundtrack—it doesn't quite seem to capture full range of Twain's life and emotions. For example, as he neared death, he became quite cynical about human history and progress. American atrocities in the Philippines following the Spanish-American war had angered and embittered him. Yet one finds little evidence of that anger in Burns' "emotional metronome."

A greater omission is the lack of black music presented in styles found among nineteenth-century African-Americans. In writing The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn," Twain was among the first authors in this nation to question the sorry state of race relations following the Civil War and Reconstruction. Yet, while the album's liner notes mention how black music influenced his musical tastes (throughout his life Twain could play on the piano the spirituals he heard as a child in Missouri), the only such offering is a "white roots" rendering of "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot." Even more surprising is crediting "traditional" as the composer of "The Maple Leaf Rag," a landmark moment in ragtime crafted by the great Scott Joplin. Insult is further added to injury by listing Jacqueline Schwab as the piece's arranger. She adds little more to Joplin's work than a few rolling chords. For a team that so wonderfully highlighted black music on The Civil War soundtrack, these omissions are saddening to say the least.

The soundtrack to Mark Twain, then, offers a mixed bag. On the one hand, its simple but rich arrangements of traditional (white) American music continue an important counter-trend to the bland pop stylings and country-rock heard on the nation's radio waves. On the other hand, as an "emotional metronome" of Twain's life, the soundtrack's many omissions cause it to fail to explore the many different influences and experiences of that life. To understand that more fully, perhaps one should read Huck Finn while listening to Burns' soundtrack. Scott Hoffman [buy it]

For fans of: O Brother, Where Art Thou?, The Civil War, Harry Smith's Anthology of American Folk Music

Copyright © 2002 High Bias