Although generally not as highly regarded by the critics as the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, or the Who,the Kinks may well have influenced far more musicians. The three-chord sledgehammer proto-metal burst of teenage lust called "You Really Got Me," the Kinks' third single and first hit, touched off a garage band explosion, which in turn influenced the rise of punk a decade later. Blessed with an astute songwriter in Ray Davies, the Kinks followed the template of "You Really Got Me" for a couple years, racking up hits with "All Day and All of the Night," "Tired of Waiting for You," and "Till the End of the Day." But Davies had more than one card in his pocket, and he blossomed into a sharp social satirist ("Dedicated Follower of Fashion"). By the time the album The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society was released in 1968, Davies had become a master of elegiac studies in English suburbia. The gender-bending "Lola" was a big hit in 1970 and the Kinks entered the video era in 1983 with "Come Dancing" and its memorable video. The Ultimate Collection spans the group's career in two discs, including the hits, B-sides, and key album tracks.
After Foals scrapped the mix of their debut, Antidotes, by TV on the Radio’s Dave Sitek, it was clear that they were a band that was interested in creating their own sound. That sentiment may be why their follow-up, Total Life Forever, sounds more like a reaction to their first record than a continuation of it. Many of the elements that drove Foals into the spotlight in the first place are definitely still in place. There’s plenty of cascading, Minus the Bear-style guitar work and funky Talking Heads influence in their math-pop-meets-the-dancefloor rhythms. What’s missing is the edge. Total Life Forever is considerably more subdued than its predecessor, lacking much of the uptempo thump found on Antidotes. In its place is a mellower, more spacious sound. While this new sound is still danceable, it’s far more refined than the angular post-punk riffing that fans might be expecting. Right from the beginning, the album-opening, “Blue Blood” makes it clear that Foals are taking a different, more patient approach to songwriting, letting the song build and build on itself as it methodically works itself into a frenzy before leaving the way it came in. Because of the changes here, fans of the early, pre-Antidotes singles may find Total Life Forever to be too restrained, lacking the youthful vigor of their debut. Where some see restraint, others may very well see refinement, and those who appreciated Antidotes' more spacy passages will find thatFoals' reinvention of their sound is a calculated risk that definitely pays off. aCá
A return look and listen to this historical and breathtaking collaboration between two of the great figures of modern music should naturally be prefaced by a few key facts. Although this album presents itself as the soundtrack to the film The Hot Spot, like many such releases it bares little relation to the music that was actually used in the film -- not that much of this music was actually used. All one really needs to know about the film itself, other than the fact that it was directed by Dennis Hopper, is that it is awful, even by bad film standards. That it was the impetus for this marvelous music to be made is something listeners should be thankful for, particularly fans of either Miles Davis or John Lee Hooker. Anyone who grew up with the former artist during his electric transfusions of the '60s and '70s probably wondered why he wasn't playing with John Lee Hooker the whole time, since they both seemed headed in the same direction. In fact, one wonders why it took this crummy film and the personal appeal of its director to bring these two musical giants together. That they didn't seek to do something like this on their own can be looked at as a character flaw, one that can only be forgiven after listening to how wonderfully they interact here. An important aspect of the magic is their individual genius in the art of playing blues music in such utterly personal ways. There is no mistaking the sound of either Hooker or Davis for anyone else, with layer upon layer of detail backing that up -- the actual sound of their instruments is distinctive, their choices of notes and timing completely unusual and impossible to imitate, and they both have a knack for casually making even the most basic sort of band track sound as if it is a style of music that has never been played before. No matter how many times one may have heard a bar band break into what they think is a Hooker boogie, a brief recovery period will still be required after first exposure to the tracks here. Often during his recording career, Hooker was able to get a particularly scintillating rhythm section sound going with whatever pros had been assembled for the occasion. This is one of these sessions, but it indeed makes it seem like a royal visit to have Davis blowing over the top of these grooves. There are other dignitaries as well. Blues guitarist Roy Rogers adds some tasteful slide guitar, and it could be said that it presents another melodic direction for the interaction. But when one has a choice to hear Hookeror Davis instead, most listeners will simply wish Rogers had ridden off into the sunset on his faithful horse instead of coming to this session. Taj Mahal, on the other hand, adds nice textures with his dobro, an instrument that is wonderfully versatile yet so often overlooked in anything other than bluegrass music or straight-ahead country blues. The latter genre, unfortunately, has too much of a sway over this performer's choice of picking patterns. He sounds like what he is: a revivalist who learned how to play blues in college. The rhythm section kicks the whole time, while composer and arranger Jack Nitzschemakes valuable contributions of his own. This includes a minor-key groove -- completely unusual forHooker, who perhaps recorded in a minor key less than a half-dozen times in his entire career. The dabs of typical film score-type music seem like nothing special until there is an entrance by Davis. These sections of him extemporizing over such routine music bring to mind one of the Ralph J. Gleason profiles of Davis, which described the artist hanging out in his music room playing along with various new releases and painfully trying to reharmonize several selections from the score of Dr. Doolittle he was thinking about recording. The image is that of normal music being twisted into something different by a master at such trickery; most of The Hot Spot soundtrack, on the other hand, presents this great jazz soloist playing over blues grooves as pure as only Hooker could make happen, an interesting contrast to some of the weaker, late-period Davis, where his bands are simply straining to be funky in an old-time bluesy way. To say this is the best recording Davis made in his final period might be misunderstood as damning with faint praise. A more solid compliment would be to contrast it with other great moments from the trumpeter's career, such as Bitches Brew or Kind of Blue, and the best parts of this soundtrack contain music that is every bit as interesting and profound. As for a Hooker album, there might be others that have better blues songs on them, but this is just about the only recording the bluesman ever did with a really great jazz soloist on it. aCá
The National have worn a lot of hats since their 2001 debut, but they’ve never been able to shake the rural, book-smart, quiet violence of the Midwest. The Brooklyn-groomed, Ohio-bred indie rock quintet’s fifth full-length album navigates that lonely dirt road where swagger meets desperation like a seasoned tour guide, and while it may take a few songs to get going, there are treasures to be found for patient passengers. The National's profile rose considerably after 2007’s critically acclaimed The Boxer, and they have used that capital to craft a flawed gem of a record that highlights their strengths and weaknesses with copious amounts of red ink. High Violet oozes atmosphere, but moves at a snail’s pace. TheCousteau-esque “Terrible Love” hardly bursts out of the gate, and the subsequent “Sorrow” and “Anyone’s Ghost” (despite Bryan Devendorf’s locomotive drumming) lack the hooks to reel anybody in on first listen. The album begins to take shape on “Afraid of Everyone,” a slow-build midtempo rocker that expertly utilizes the Clogs’ (guitarist Bryce Dessner's other chamber pop band) prickly orchestrations, but it’s the punishing “Bloodbuzz Ohio” that serves as High Violet's centerpiece. Built on a foundation that fuses together TV on the Radio's “Halfway Home” and Arcade Fire's “No Cars Go,” its refrain of “I still owe money to the money, to the money I owe” seems both relevant and nostalgic, resulting in a highway anthem that feels like the anti-“Born to Run.” Other standout cuts like “Conversation 16,” “England," and the darkly funny/oddly beautiful closer, “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks,” trumpet Violet’s second-half supremacy, but even they tremble beneath the "Bloodbuzz" intoxication. Muscular, miserable, mighty, and meandering, High Violet aims for the seats, but only hits about half of them. aCá
