Live Rust - Neil Young & Crazy Horse

All the kudos Neil Young earned for Rust Never Sleeps he lost for Live Rust, the double-LP live album released four months later. Live Rust was the soundtrack to Young's concert filmRust Never Sleeps (he had wanted to give it that title, but Reprise vetoed the idea, fearing confusion with the earlier album), and likewise was recorded October 22, 1978, at the Cow Palace in San Francisco. But much of the Rust Never Sleeps album had been recorded on the same tour, and Live Rust repeated four songs from that disc; besides, since Young had released the career retrospective Decade in 1977, critics felt he was unfairly recycling his older material and repeating his new material. In retrospect, however, Live Rust, now a single 74-minute CD, comes off as an excellent Neil Young live album and career summary, starting with the early song "Sugar Mountain" and running through then-new songs like "My My, Hey Hey (Out of the Blue)" and "Powderfinger." Young is effective in both his acoustic folksinger and hard-rocking Crazy Horse bandleader modes. The various distractions of the concert itself and the film, such as the pretentious props and cowled roadies, are absent, and what's left is a terrific Neil Young concert recording.

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The Troggs

Remembered chiefly as proto-punkers who reached the top of the charts with the "caveman rock" of "Wild Thing" (1966), the Troggs were also adept at crafting power pop and ballads. Hearkening back to a somewhat simpler, more basic British Invasion approach as psychedelia began to explode in the late '60s, the group also reached the Top Five with their flower-power ballad "Love Is All Around" in 1968. While more popular in their native England than the U.S., the band also fashioned memorable, insistently riffing hit singles like "With a Girl Like You," "Night of the Long Grass," and the notoriously salacious "I Can't Control Myself" between 1966 and 1968. Paced byReg Presley's lusting vocals, the group -- which composed most of their own material -- could crunch with the best of them, but were also capable of quite a bit more range and melodic invention than they've been given credit for.

Hailing from the relatively unknown British town of Andover, the Troggs hooked up with manager/producer Larry Page (who was involved in the Kinks' early affairs) in the mid-'60s. After a flop debut single, they were fortunate enough to come across a demo ofChip Taylor's "Wild Thing" (which had already been unsuccessfully recorded by the Wild Ones). In the hands of the Troggs, "Wild Thing" -- with its grungy chords and off-the-wall ocarina solo -- became a primeval three-chord monster, famous not only in its original hit Troggs version, but in its psychedelic revamping by Jimi Hendrix, who used it to close his famous set at the 1967 Monterey Pop Festival.

"Wild Thing" made number one in the States, but the Troggs' momentum there was impeded by a strange legal dispute which saw their early records simultaneously released on two different labels. Nor did it help that the band didn't tour the U.S. for a couple of years. As a consequence, the fine follow-up singles "With a Girl Like You" and "I Can't Control Myself" didn't do as well as they might have. In Britain, it was a different story -- they were smashes, although "I Can't Control Myself" had such an open-hearted lust that it encountered resistance from conservative radio programmers all over the globe.

The Troggs tempered their image on subsequent ballads, which utilized a sort of pre-"power ballad" approach. These weren't bad, and a few of them were British hits, but they weren't as fine as the initial blast of singles which established the band's image. "Love Is All Around," which restored them to the American Top Ten in 1968, was their finest effort in this vein. It was also their final big hit on either side of the Atlantic.

But the Troggs would keep going for a long, long time. In a sense they were handicapped by their image -- they were not intellectuals, certainly, but they weren't dumb either. They wrote most of their songs, and their albums were reasonably accomplished, if hardly up to the level of the Kinks or Traffic, containing some nifty surprises like the gothic ballad "Cousin Jane," or the tongue-in-cheek psychedelia of "Maybe the Madman." By 1970, though, they were struggling. They continued to release a stream of singles, most of which had a straightforward simplicity that was out of step with the progressive rock of the time, all of which flopped, though some were fairly good.

The Troggs' image as lunkheads couldn't have been helped by the notorious Troggs Tapes, a 12-minute studio argument that was captured on tape while the band were unawares. The Spinal Tap-like dialog helped keep their cult alive, though, and as punk gained momentum in the mid-'70s, they gained belated appreciation as an important influence on bands like the Ramones and (earlier) the MC5. They found enough live work (sometimes on the punk/new wave circuit) to keep going, although their intermittent records generally came to naught. In 1992, they rose to their highest profile in ages when three members of R.E.M., which had covered "Love Is All Around," backed the Troggs on the comeback album Athens Andover.

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David Lindley - Win This Record

Following up their excellent debut and a season of intense touring, David Lindley and his crack band (now named El Rayo-X) recorded their second Elektra album. It turns out that they actually bettered the near perfection of the first. Opening with an excellent version ofEtta James classic "Something's Got a Hold on Me," this track proves how tight the band had became. Lindley's slide guitar work is impressive as always. As an added bonus, the band's vocal harmonies are extremely tight and a welcome addition. A version of the Cajun classic "Brother John" held great significance at the time shortly after John Lennon's death -- and again contains some of Lindley's best slide work to date. A rambling, fun record, Win This Record is one of the finest rock records of the '80s.

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Chet Baker / Bill Evans - The Complete Legendary Sessions

American Jazz Classics 99005 | Chet Baker (t), Herbie Mann (ts), Zoot Sims (as, ts), Pepper Adams (bar s), Kenny Burrell (g), Bill Evans, Bon Corwin (p), Paul Chambers, Earl May (b), Connie Kay, Philly Joe Jones and Clifford Jarvis (d). Rec. 30 December 1958, 18 January 1959 and 21/22 July 1959

Not quite what it seems to be! Towards the end of the 1950s, Chet Baker recorded a couple of septet albums for Riverside on which Bill Evans was booked to play piano. But so too were flautist Herbie Mann and feisty baritone sax man Pepper Adams. Passing visitors included guitarist Kenny Burrell on two tracks while Zoot Sims blew tenor on one track and alto on another two. The first album (Chet – The Lyrical Trumpet Of Chet Baker) is aptly named and offers a fine selection of standards while the ill-conceived follow up was devoted to the Broadway compositions of Lerner and Loewe and proved to be a lacklustre embarrassment. While the 10 standards on the ‘Lyrical’ part of this release are mostly commendable in their choice – ‘Alone Together’, ‘It Never Entered My Mind’, ‘Time On My Hands’ (and are available elsewhere without the extra baggage). It’s to be noted that bassist Paul Chambers authoritative gait greatly adds to the slightly haunting studio sound which gives the impression of the sound engineer striving to replicate the ambience of a Miles Davis date. In contrast, Mis’tah Chet offers little indication that he’s committed to the Lerner and Loewe project, leaving only Pepper Adams to prevent this from slipping into a coma. The star rating is for the ‘Lyrical’ tracks only. Roy Carr

Never have two musicians seemed so alike in temperament yet differed so much in their approach to making music as Chet Baker and Bill Evans. While both were peerless masters of their instruments and shared a rich, evocatively lyrical playing style that bordered beguilingly on the introspective, Baker and Evans were polar opposites when it came to the discipline of performance.

Though both were heroin addicts, the musically-trained Evans never let it interfere with his meticulously precise flights of invention while the self-taught Baker became increasingly erratic and inconsistent. They ventured into a recording studio together on just three occasions, with largely disappointing results, their potentially combustible collaboration failing to ignite and all too frequently sounding workmanlike and uninspiring.

The Complete Legendary Sessions corrals the 15 tracks that resulted from those sessions – previously issued on two 1959 albums: Chet, and Chet Baker Plays the Best of Lerner and Loewe – together for the first time, with a vocals-free Baker concentrating on his horn playing.

Occupying the first 10 tracks (absent from the LP release, Early Morning Mood appears here as a welcome bookend) Chet turns in satisfyingly laidback but unexciting performances. Sparks of energy are provided by Herbie Mann’s flute, the baritone sax of Pepper Adams, Connie Kay and Philly Joe Jones on percussion, guitarist Kenny Burrell and bass man Paul Chambers, who all go about their business with a winningly insouciant confidence.

Album opener Alone Together continues to cast a shimmering, dark-hued spell half a century later, Baker breathing long, lingering, hypnotic lines that flex and flow with understated panache. The prevailing mood is melancholic and down-tempo, with the virtually somnambulant Baker and overly cautious Evans remaining curiously semi-detached from each other throughout.

The Lerner and Loewe material offers livelier fare, but Baker remains strangely subdued and understatement continues to be Evans’s default even in the love-lit delirium of I Could Have Danced All Night. A bonus cover of Almost Like Being in Love sways rather than swings, with Bob Corwin stepping in for Evans.

As a glimpse of what might have been had these two been on form, this tantalises and frustrates in equal measure.

BBC-Music

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SUBA - TRIBUTO

Mitar Subotic, o Suba, nasceu em Novi Sad, na Iugoslávia. Músico de formação erudita, ainda jovem fez trilhas para teatro e pesquisou música folclórica do seu país. Em 1990, com uma bolsa da Unesco, chegou ao Brasil, onde se estabeleceu como produtor. Foi responsável por discos como "Benzina"(Edgard Scandurra), "Fuá na Casa de Cabral" (Mestre Ambrósio), "Pierrot do Brasil" (Marina Lima) e "Tanto Tempo" (Bebel Gilberto), entre outros de Arnaldo Antunes, Taciana, Dinho Ouro-Preto e Edson Cordeiro. Em 1999, lançou pelo selo americano Ziriguiboom o disco solo "São Paulo Confessions", homenagem à cidade que escolheu para viver. Suba morreu meses depois do lançamento do CD (que recebeu vários elogios no exterior), num incêndio em seu apartamento. "São Paulo" só foi lançado no Brasil no ano seguinte pelo Instituto Suba, montado por amigos do músico.

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SUBA - SAO PAULO CONFESSIONS

Editado no Brasil pelo Instituto Suba criado para preservar a memória do músico iuguslavo Mitar Subotic (1961-1999), este disco foi elogiado pela crítica no lançamento na Europa, no ano passado. É ouvir para entender logo o motivo. De formação erudita e eclética, radicado em São Paulo desde 1990, atuando nas áreas de teatro, dança, moda, publicidade e – claro – música, Suba sobrepõe idéias à utilização da eletrônica. Não é manipulado pela pirotecnia dos efeitos especiais. E para um recém chegado que teve menos de dez anos de vivência, traça um perfil bastante convicente do caos nacional. Quando propõe um Samba do Gringo Paulista, agrega humor autocrítico e destreza na montagem da batucada que casa o estranhamento do cavaquinho dedilhado pelo roqueiro Frejat ao jogo de samples de bateria de escola de samba equalizado por João Parahyba (Trio Mocotó). Mestre Ambrósio (de quem Suba produziu Fuá na Casa de Cabral) adensa com rabeca, percussão e baixo o coco/house/funk/maracatu atômico de Antropófagos. Na Neblina, referência à mítica garoa paulistana tem paisagem drum ‘n’ bossa como a única faixa não assinada por Suba, a fundadoraFelicidade, de Tom Jobim e Vinicius de Moraes, revestida por rica escolha de timbres eletrônicos. Em Um Dia Comum, vozes gravadas informam sobre erro de senha ou despertador automático, ditando a trilha sonora de um cidadão urbano.Abraço, servida por guitarra de Edgar Scandurra do Ira! (de quem Suba produziu o turbinado Benzina) casa (sem menção na ficha técnica) Quem Quiser Encontrar Amor (Carlos Lyra/ Geraldo Vandré) à declamação concretista de Arnaldo Antunes. A sombriaPecados da Madrugada contrasta com a sensualidade sussurrada do trip/maracatu com piano de bossa Você gosta (na voz de Taciana) e o samba/trip/maracatu Segredo (com Kátia B). Foi necessário aparecer um alquimista iuguslavo para ensinar aos locais que a MPB também pode suingar na eletrônica de ponta. Sem ser de estoque. (Tárik de Souza)

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Rushmore OST

While a soundtrack LP based on the smorgasbord of the "sounds of the '60s" is hardly a novel concept, Rushmore announced right up front it was offering more fruitful fare by emphasizing the little-known but cranking/smoking Creation single "Makin' Time" in its TV ads. That snarling-ornery classic more or less leads off this collection of British Invasion-era obscuros, a CD whose mere track selection proves its curator to be a genuine, happy, knowledgeable fan of the genre. Like the zany, hip radio station you've always longed for and will never get, in Rushmore's world the Kinks' 1964 unplugged Kinda Kinks gem "Nothing in This World Can Stop Me Worrying About That Girl" can peacefully coexist with the happy lounge of Unit 4+2, and French crooner Yves Montand, or with Mark Mothersbaugh of Devo's instrumental curiosities. The young, jauntier Cat Stevens and Chad & Jeremy provide pep, and a live version of the Who's first mini rock opera, the title track of their 1966 second LP, A Quick One, locks neatly into a film where two so-different males compete for the same woman. OK, the collection isn't timeless. There aren't enough great songs here, and compiler Wes Anderson could have done better for the great-but-in-decline John Lennon and the also-past-their-prime Faces than the pleasant but pathetic-indulgent "Oh Yoko!" and nice but pedestrian "Ooh La La". But even here, Anderson errs on the side of the whimsical and unusual, precisely the qualities missing in the movies these days. In the end, it's his sense of fun that pervades this unpredictable assortment as much as it does the cinematic experience. Synchronicity at last!

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The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou

Defying the trend of shoving a bunch of songs together for unit-shifting, the soundtrack to the Bill Murray movie The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou is a cohesive and entertaining collection of songs. Sven Libaek's score pieces are remarkable, from the dreamy jazz of "Shark Attack Theme" to the watery, hypnotic "Open Sea Theme," while Mark Mothersbaugh's offerings are as consistently good as ever. From lilting horn orchestrations ("Loquasto International Film Festival") to bright beautiful pieces ("Let Me Tell You About My Boat"), Mothersbaugh triumphs. Filmmaker Wes Anderson contrasts such instrumentals with outstanding '70s rock choices like Iggy & the Stooges' proto-punk Molotov "Search and Destroy," Devo's "Gut Feeling," and a pair of Hunky Dory-extracted David Bowie classics like the rollicking "Queen Bitch" and the somber brilliance of "Life on Mars?" A second version of the latter, sung in Portuguese by Seu Jorge, is one of five absurd but likable Bowie covers, making for an eclectic but compelling collection.
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Darjeeling Limited Soundtrack

For fans of director Wes Anderson, a new movie from the bespectacled auteur means the materialization of a quirky new soundtrack as well. While 1999's British Invasion-heavy audio companion to Rushmore remains the unofficial fan fave, each collection of music (Bottle Rocket, The Royal Tenenbaums, and The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou) has been a glimpse into the Texas-bred Anderson's obviously deep record collection, a window he once again opens with the typically eclectic Darjeeling Limited. The quirk of 2004's Zissou was that it mined classic David Bowie songs as played by Brazilian samba revivalist and Life Aquatic cast member Seu Jorge. This time around,Anderson populates his tale with classic Indian art film music, from celebrated director/composer Satyajit Ray to violinist/singer/composer Shankar. Adapting these previously recorded scores to the director's model of "life with a near constant soundtrack" means peppering them with well-placed bursts of rock & roll, so the employment of tracks from Anderson stalwarts the Rolling Stones and the Kinks should come as no surprise, as they have long been the acts that Anderson uses to drive in the emotional nail. Toss in a little Debussy and Beethoven, "Where Do You Go To (My Lovely)" by the painfully earnest U.K. folkie Peter Sarstedt, and a dash of gospel, and then wrap it all up with 1969's international smash "Les Champs-Elysées" from American expatriate/French pop superstar Joe Dassin, and you've got what amounts to the usual Wes Anderson smorgasbord of hip, never will be hip, or soon to be hipper than hip.
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