Concert Review: En Vogue and Delynia Jannell at HyVee Arena

Original image of electric billboard by There Stands the Glass.

The view from the cheap seats at HyVee Arena on Saturday, June 12, was like looking at a Verzuz stream from the wrong end of a set of binoculars.  Even so, I relished the concert by nineties hitmakers En Vogue and opening act Delynia Jannell.

Being amid approximately 1,500 festive R&B fans who’d paid for the privilege of being in what was once the upper tier of the former Kemper Arena represented a bracing return to normalcy.  I’ve loved En Vogue since “Hold On” hit the airwaves in 1989.  I was thrilled to check in with old favorites in a new epoch.

Even from my poor vantage point, watching original En Vogue members Terry Ellis and Cindy Herron and 2003 addition Rhona Bennett accentuate 14 songs in 60 minutes with Supremes-style choreography over backing tracks was heavenly.  The sound wasn’t great, but I’ve encountered far worse this month.

I’ve seen Delynia Jannell open for several touring acts, but she was better than ever leading a seven-piece backing band on Saturday.  The Kansas City veteran’s compelling stage patter and solid covers of hits by the likes of Chaka Khan, Ledisi and Deniece Williams primed the audience for En Vogue.

En Vogue setlist: Free Your Mind; Lies; Give It Up, Turn It Loose; Whatta Man; I’m Good; My Lovin’ (You’re Never Gonna Get It); Reach 4 Me; Yesterday; Giving Him Something He Can Feel; Whatever; Don’t Go; Rocket; Don’t Let Go (Love); Hold On

Woulda Shoulda Coulda: Reflections on Mac Lethal's Winter Heartbreak II

Mac Lethal possessed the talent, intelligence and wit to become a star in the first decade of the millennium.  Questionable career choices derailed the rapper’s chance to attain the sort of double-edged fame later achieved by the late Mac Miller.  The Kansan born David McCleary Sheldon is well aware of the missed opportunities.  He mercilessly beats himself up throughout Winter Heartbreak II.

I’m all too familiar with several of the forms of anguish Mac details on his latest album.  In addition to sharing an unbecoming Midwestern accent and a similar series of deflating professional disappointments, I’ve also experienced the need to repair relationships and address substance abuse issues among family and friends in the corner of the world I share with Mac. The grim tone of Mac’s self-described “depression party” is lightened by relatable punchlines.  Acknowledging the need to adjust to diminished expectations, he insists “I’m trying to win yard-of-the-month- f*ck a Grammy!”

Longtime listeners will recognize the lyrical themes and musical constructs.  Winter Heartbreak II may not be entirely fresh, but Mac recycles only his best bits.  Aside from a bout of tongue-twisting rat-a-tat rapping, he avoids the gimmicky YouTube stunts that seem to have dominated his professional focus in recent years. Winter Heartbreak II probably won’t make Mac many new converts.  But I expect I’m not the only day-one fan thrilled by his potent return to form.

Concert Review: Adam Doleac and Roman Alexander at KC Live

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

I joined a throng of approximately 5,000 unmasked revelers in the KC Live block of the Power & Light District on Thursday, June 3.  The delirious sense of joy permeating the free Hot Country Nights concert by country up-and-comers Adam Doleac and Roman Alexander was so infectious that I considered removing my homemade John Deere face-covering.

Only the usual bugaboos making KC Live a problematic space for live music prevented me from surrendering to the communal elation.  Canyon-esque echoing, sound-bleed issuing from the surrounding establishments and alcohol-fueled chattering among revelers made hearing Doleac and Alexander challenging.  Although I was positioned just 30 feet from the edge of the stage, the performances were often drowned out by the surrounding dissonance.

The Instagram clip I posted of Alexander performing his biggest hit reflects the atmosphere.  The young women near me can be heard coordinating a Snapshot video during the hometown show by the man who was raised near Parkville, Missouri.  Their endeavor was consistent with a flirtatious ambience resembling a massive speed dating event for country singles.  Music was a secondary consideration.

Stages give pop-oriented country acts like Doleac and Alexander an opportunity to embrace or defy the slick sound of their radio hits.  The compromised environment of Thursday’s show made it impossible to ascertain the intentions of either man, although fiddles and pedal steel guitars were nowhere to be seen.

Doleac covered Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” and Fountains of Wayne’s “Stacy’s Mom.”  Alexander’s attempt to play what might have been a Kings of Leon song failed to cut through the tumultuous racket.  In spite of the challenges inherent in attending concerts at KC Live, I know I’ll be back.  Hot Country Nights is far from perfect for music-oriented country fans, but the buoyant atmosphere and the price of admission is irresistible.

Gigs, Gimmicks and Geegaws

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

Running errands in a car without bluetooth capability (oh, the horror!), my life companion and I resorted to fiddling with the radio.  We settled on the oldies station that dominates radio ratings in Kansas City.  Hits by the likes of Hall & Oates, John Mellencamp and Madonna were featured in an all-’80s Memorial Day weekend promotion.

I fussily complained that having completely absorbed the songs decades ago, I was incapable of deriving even a modicum of pleasure from listening to them for the umpteenth time.  I waited a millisecond too long to reply after the love of my life asked if I felt the same way about her.

She wasn’t mad for long.  She knows humans are infinitely more complex than static pop songs.  Unlike, say, Men at Work’s infuriating 1981 hit “Down Under,” even the most circumspect person constantly undergoes significant changes.  I may be disinterested in glorifying the past, but I’m a sucker for gigs, gimmicks, revisions and makeovers.

I’d be first in line to fork over twenty dollars to catch Men at Work at an area nightclub tonight.  And while the experience they offer is inherently inferior, live albums also hold enormous appeal to me.  I’m genuinely impressed by Point of Know Return: Live & Beyond.  The souvenir of Kansas’ 2019-20 tour, the prog-rock behemoth’s new album is far better than anyone could reasonably expect.

Can’s Live in Stuttgart 1975 is a more astounding surprise.  Five extended instrumental jams occupy the preposterously esoteric realm in which the Velvet Underground and Weather Report overlap.  Yet my favorite new live release is Celebration, a 2019 collaboration of two avant-garde stalwarts.  Swiss pianist Irène Schweizer and American percussionist Hamid Drake veer between violent cacophony and joyous swing as if the two styles are compatible.  (They are.)

A significant portion of Moby’s success derives from his knack for conjoining styles most listeners consider incongruous.  I disagree with classical traditionalists who suggest the signing of Moby by Deutsche Grammophon is crass.  The famous yellow seal may have lost a bit of luster in the classical powerhouse’s recent crossover bids, but I’m completely sold on the string-laden version of Mark Lanegan’s “The Lonely Night” pairing Lanegan with Kris Kristofferson on Moby’s Reprise.

The vitality of Moby’s classical venture is a mild surprise, but the weakness of K.D. Lang’s Makeover is a bitter disappointment.  Creating dance remixes of several of the stellar vocalist’s most beloved tracks seems like a can’t-lose proposition.  Yet ecstatic jubilance is never attained.  Maybe I’ll feel differently should I encounter the St. Tropez Mix of “Miss Chatelaine” on a personalized oldies station 30 years from now.

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The rapid expansion of my concert calendar is exciting.  Yet all but a few of the most compelling tours are skipping the Kansas City area.  I whined about the inability of improvising musicians to draw crowds in this town at Plastic Sax.

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Spotify’s latest customer engagement effort insists Karol G is my top artist at the platform. That’s cool, but if the tagging process in classical music wasn’t so byzantine, Spotify’s bots would correctly cite Richard Wagner as my most-streamed artist.

Album Review: Lambchop- Showtunes

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

I was dumbfounded as a child when my dad and grandfather shrugged their shoulders when I’d ask how they acquired minor wounds after finishing a task in a field or garage.  Their inability to recall the cause of the bloodletting struck me as a form of madness.

I get it now.  I’m often unaware of a cut until I spot blood on my clothes.  Scrapes barely register against the gradual acceleration of bodily aches and emotional strain.  Kurt Wagner trots out an apt cliché on the opening track of Lambchop’s Showtunes: “life will be the death of us all.”

The new album sounds like a resigned meditation on the aging process.  Showtunes’ unconventional music and ambiguous lyrics are akin to the literary depictions of akimbo consciousnesses associated with James Joyce and Virginia Woolf.  Accordingly, Wagner and his co-conspirators overlay opera on cabaret and combine electronic gurgles with baroque chamber music.  An overworked hip-hop hype sample introduces a languid meditation on the past.

References to cellist Pablo Casals, Jimmy Webb’s pop hit “By the Time I Get to Phoenix” and the Lord’s Prayer reflect the free association of a lively but aged mind. "The Last Benedict'' is among the songs chronicling an unsettling awareness of decay. We’re all destined to stop bleeding. Showtunes is a cleareyed foreshadowing of the days preceding that inevitable moment.

May 2021 Recap: A Monthly Exercise in Critical Transparency

Screenshot of Ivan Jandl in the trailer for The Search by There Stands the Glass.

Top Ten Albums (released in May, excluding 5/28 titles)

1. Sons of Kemet- Black to the Future

Reclamation.

2. St. Vincent- Daddy’s Home

Shine on you crazy diamond.

3. Cake Pop- Cake Pop 2

Greasy art-kid stuff.

4. Alan Jackson- Where Have You Gone

Hardcore honkytonk and sentimental slow dances.

5. Georgia Anne Muldrow- Vweto III

Ancient to the future.

6. Jack Ingram, Miranda Lambert and Jon Randall- The Marfa Tapes

Bleary singalongs.

7. Young M.A.- Off the Yak

Still thirsty.

8. Carlos Niño- More Energy Fields, Current

Ethereal electricity.

9. Blob Castle- Music for Art Show

My review.

10. Fatima Al Qadiri- Medieval Femme

It’s a new age for New Age.

Top Ten Songs (released in May, excluding 5/28 titles)

1. Olivia Rodrigo- "Brutal"

“I can’t even parallel park!”

2. Saweetie- "Fast (Motion)"

Commotion.

3. Tony Allen featuring Danny Brown- "Deer in Headlights"

Dream pairing. 

4. Coi Leray- "Bout Me"

What you know?

5. Rhonda Vincent- “What Ain’t to Be Just Might Happen”

Risk management.

6. Grupo Firme and Lenin Ramírez- "En Tu Perra Vida"

Wobbly.

7. Tigran Hamasyan- "Revisiting the Film"

Instant replay.

8. Lana Del Rey- "Blue Banisters"

Splintered.

9. Frank Sinatra- "All or Nothing at All"

Frankie goes to the disco.

10. Lil Baby and Kirk Franklin- "We Win"

Gospel truth.

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

1. The Secret of Santa Vittoria (1969)

Anthony Quinn and Ann Magnani reckon with fascism.

2. Julius Caesar (1953)

“The nature of an insurrection.”

3. Les Parapluies de Cherbourg/The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964)

My review.

4. Odd Man Out (1947)

The implosion of a terror cell.

5. Rachel, Rachel (1968)

Inhibition paralysis.

6. Paisan (1946)

Hallucinatory sketches of war.

7. The Audition (2007)

Opera documentary with a tragic postscript. 

8. The Search (1948)

Montgomery Clift in post-war Berlin.

9. Abba: The Movie (1977)

S-O-S.

10. I Care a Lot (2020)

Capitalist degeneracy.

April’s recap and links to previous monthly surveys are here.

James Harman, 1946-2021

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

In a recent discussion with my In My Headache podcast partner Aaron Rhodes, I proclaimed that not a single artistically important blues artist has emerged in the last 25 years.  I stand by the assertion, with the caveat that “important” and “good” are often two different things.

I developed an affinity for the blues after happening upon a Son Seals track on Lindsay Shannon’s weekly blues program when I was ten.  The early conversion allowed me to catch multiple performances by since-deceased blues giants including Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown, Albert Collins, Johnny “Clyde” Copeland, James Cotton, Lowell Fulson, John Lee Hooker, B.B. King, Jimmy Rogers, Otis Rush, Koko Taylor, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson, Junior Wells and Johnny Winter.  Sadly, I added James Harman to the list today.

By inserting his enormous personality and distinctive talent to the tradition rather than merely mimicking the masters who inspired him, James Harman worked at a similarly high level.  Harman was best known as an outstanding harmonica player, but his witty songwriting and deft touch as a bandleader distinguished him from his peers.

Most of Harman’s catalog is out of print and unavailable on streaming services.  Extra Napkins is arguably his strongest work, but I also recommend all of the albums he recorded for Black Top Records.  I periodically set up in-store performances for Harman when I represented the label in the early ‘90s.

I still marvel at the man who ignored Harman’s tremendous band as he methodically shopped the blues cassette section of the Kansas City record store at 4128 Broadway. Harman overcame many such slights in an admirable career. He last came through town in 2019. Much of the considerable swagger he displayed as a young man remained near the end.

Roll in Peace

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

Blaring my favorite music through open windows while driving a freshly washed car is enormously pleasurable.  After spending a good part of a recent trip sitting on the front porch of a home in Hamtramck, a densely populated Muslim-majority city adjacent to Detroit, Michigan, I decided to permanently curb the selfish impulse.

It’s not merely inconsiderate.  I now recognize the practice is a mild form of societal violence.  The imposition of one’s taste in music on others is part of the point, but I hadn’t previously considered that I might be insulting the cultural and religious sensibilities of blameless innocents.  Witnessing the little girls of Yemeni and Cameroonian descent who were my temporary neighbors being repeatedly subjected to lurid raps booming from passing vehicles was infuriating.

I’m hedging my bets even though I now feel terrible about each of the times I may have offended passersby with similarly intrusive behavior.  I listened to the invaluable reissue of my favorite Sun Ra album in a remote corner of a commercial parking lot yesterday.  The two puzzled shoppers who inexplicably parked near me were treated to my theme song.

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I reviewed Robert Castillo’s Music for Art Show at Plastic Sax.

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Howard Mandel’s remembrance of Bob Koester rings true. I had a few prickly interactions with the late Chicago legend in the 1990s.

Film Find: Les Parapluies de Cherbourg

Exasperated by my obsessive investigations into arcane cultural niches, my life partner recently asked “how do you find these things?”  She immediately forgets about my frequent commercial hip-hop and professional sports binges when our home is overtaken by Evan Parker’s free jazz or is monopolized by the experimental films of Bill Morrison.

With an increasingly tenuous ability to differentiate between approachable and inaccessible forms of art, I was pleasantly surprised when my partner stuck around for a screening of Les Parapluies de Cherbourg (The Umbrellas of Cherbourg).  The loopy 1964 French film is unlike anything either of us had encountered.

Sung-through by a cast of remarkably attractive actors including Catherine Deneuve, the lush color schemes captured by cinematographer Jean Rabier and director Jacques Demy are stunning.  Every element of the romantic tragedy is captivating in spite of the preposterous premise.

Michel Legrand’s ingenious score circumvents seemingly inevitable disaster.  I’d previously thought of Legrand only as the composer of “The Windmills of Your Mind.”  No more.  Having abandoned attempts to exterminate Les Parapluies de Cherbourg earworms including "Chez Dubourg" and "A L'Appartement", I added Legrand’s sublime soundtrack to my regular rotation.  The film streams on YouTube here.

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The sixth episode of my In My Headache podcast is available for streaming.  Aaron Rhodes and I ponder Flying Lotus’ Yasuke, Origami Angel’s Gami Gang and Ted Nugent’s 1975 debut solo album.  Caveat: I remain annoyed by my collaborator’s decision to punk me with his selection of unflattering audio teasers.

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The notes I posted five days ago at Plastic Sax are still the sole published analysis of the Billie Holiday at Sugar Hill: Photographs by Jerry Dantzic exhibit at the American Jazz Museum.

Space Jams: An Appreciation of Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

I envy Deadheads.  Not only are they part of an interactive community open to all like-minded enthusiasts of the Grateful Dead, their single-minded obsessiveness simplifies their leisure time.  I fret over whether to invest four hours in a production of Parsifal (the last “major” opera I have yet to see), investigate the new 10-hour William Parker boxed set, luxuriate in Whodini’s "Five Minutes of Funk" or brace for a round of Kansas City punk. Deadheads merely have to decide which vintage show they’d like to hear next.

A fresh slate of old Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey recordings arouses a related form of reassuring nostalgia in me.  The first two of the scheduled five albums were released on May 7.  The previously unreleased 2008 studio album Winterwood is a cheeky update of Ellingtonian swing and juke-joint boogie-woogie.  The Spark That Bled: Tour '05 includes live interpretations of compositions by the Flaming Lips and Charles Mingus, a representative reflection of the ensemble’s sensibilities.

A corresponding 27-minute documentary champions the manic intensity, wild eclecticism and unlikely evolution of the band from Oklahoma. I’ve long flirted with full-on fandom. I interviewed front man Brian Haas for Plastic Sax in 2009. The band’s ambitious concept album Race Riot Suite was my favorite album of 2011. Come to think of it, I could do a lot worse than listen exclusively to Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey. Deadhead? No man, but I’m perilously close to becoming a Fredhead.