Was Ludwig van Beethoven a prophetic visionary anticipating the clamorous mechanization of the 21st century as he composed the Diabelli Variations? Or is Mitsuko Uchida heretically imposing contemporary sensibilities on the solo piano cycle on her new album Beethoven: Diabelli Variations? Uchida’s attack is jarringly percussive. The clamorous recording is as serene as a front row seat at a Nine Inch Nails concert. Since encountering Uchida’s interpretation I’ve listened to a pair of celebrated older versions of the 200-year-old work. One is anemic while the second possesses much of Uchida’s diabolical fervor. The fundamental difference between the latter interpretation and Uchida’s attack is the immediacy of the sound field enabled by today’s recording technology. Roll over, Chuck Berry, and tell Carl Perkins the news.
Album Review: Tord Gustavsen Trio- Opening
The Books of Jacob is likely to stymie my goal of reading 100 books in 2022. Not only is Olga Tokarczuk’s novel 965 pages (numbered in reverse order, incidentally), I’m compelled to take regular pauses to contemplate the theological constructs it poses. The previously unfamiliar tenets of Jewish mysticism- along with the cross-pollination of Christian and Moslem doctrines- demand quiet reflection.
Opening, the latest ECM Records release by the trio led by Tord Gustavensen, matches the somber speculative musings of Tokarczuk’s characters. Only the pastoral “Shepherd Song” possesses a defined structure and conventional resolution. The remainder of Opening evokes the novel’s depiction of catechistic uncertainty in eighteenth-century Istanbul.
Gustavsen spooked me at a concert in London in 2012. The Norwegian pianist bears a striking resemblance to Nosferatu. Opening is correspondingly otherworldly. A character in The Books of Jacob suggests “those of us who think God addresses us by means of external events are wrong, as naive as children. For He whispers directly into our innermost souls.” Opening is one such divine whisper.
Album Review: Miley Cyrus- Attention: Miley Live
Miley Cyrus is enormously talented and deeply problematic. Not surprisingly, Attention: Miley Live, a bumpy 82-minute recording made when the former Hannah Montana opened for Green Day in Los Angeles two months ago, is loaded with provocative contradictions.
Cyrus applies her valkyrie-like voice to her signature pop hits “Wrecking Ball” and “Party in the U.S.A.” as well as to covers by the likes of the Pixies, Prince and Dolly Parton. Joan Jett seems to be Cyrus’ lodestar, but she often winds up sounding like Wynonna Judd. A brief interpolation of “Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)” suggests Cyrus might be the Nancy Sinatra of her generation.
Candidly assessing her career, Cyrus acknowledges she’s “been a lot of different things, a lot of different identities.” Much of Attention: Miley Live may not be “good,” but few albums released in 2022 are likely to be more interesting. Monitoring Cyrus’ ongoing evolution promises to be a lot of fun.
Album Review: Gerald Clayton- Bells On Sand
Bells on Sand probably wouldn’t have meant much to me had it been released five years ago. Gerald Clayton’s spare song cycle might have struck me as overly fragile. Yet my sonic world expanded during the pandemic. In addition to developing a taste for drones and noise, I grasped the previously elusive appeal of European composers such as Frédéric Chopin, Claude Debussy and Maurice Ravel. Clayton’s sensitive interpretations of Federico Mompou’s compositions- the second and third tracks on Bells On Sand- set the contemplative tone for Clayton’s new album for Blue Note Records. I’d been only vaguely familiar with the Spanish composer through recordings by the likes of pianist Daniil Trifinov. Some may call me soft, but I’m pleased with my enhanced sensibility.
March 2022 Recap: A Monthly Exercise in Critical Transparency
Original image of the curtain call of UMKC Conservatory’s Così fan tutte by There Stands the Glass.
Top Ten Albums (Released in March)
1. Rosalía- Motomami
Unparalleled pop.
2. Jóhann Jóhannsson- Drone Mass
Lethal minimalism.
3. Nigo- I Know Nigo!
Elite rappers (and Kid Cudi) collaborate with the polymath.
4. Brad Mehldau- Jacob's Ladder
5. Benny the Butcher- Tana Talk 4
Buffalo barbarity.
6. Drug Church- Hygiene
Unclean.
7. François-Xavier Roth and Les Siècles- Claude Debussy’s Pelléas et Mélisande
A ravishing rendition of the mesmirizing opera.
8. Sélène Saint-Aimé- Potomitan
Expansive jazz from France.
9. Destroyer- Labyrinthitis
A not entirely embarrassing form of yacht rock.
10. Cécile McLorin Salvant- Ghost Song
Spectral art music.
Top Ten Songs (Released in March)
1. Kae Tempest and Lianne La Havas- "No Prizes"
Gold.
2. Celeste- “To Love a Man”
Torched.
3. Fana Hues- "Bad Bad"
Wicked good.
4. Normani- "Fair"
Un-break my heart.
5. The Supremes- “Witchi-Tai-To”
Wut.
6. Your Old Droog- “Fela Kruti”
“Music for people who check their email in the club.”
7. Ibibio Sound Machine- “17 18 19”
Rock down to electric avenue.
8. Lous and the Yakuza- “Kisé”
Mosh pit? Mosh pit!
9. Megan Thee Stallion and Dua Lupa- “Sweetest Pie”
Irresistible empty calories.
10. Ho9909 featuring Bun B- "Slo Bread"
Inspired collaboration.
Top Ten Performances of March
1. Sparks- Crystal Ballroom
2. Godspeed You! Black Emperor- Roseland Theater
3. UMKC Conservatory’s Così fan tutte- White Recital Hall
4. Ted Poor and Cuong Vu- Jack London Revue
5. Steve Cardenas- recordBar
6. Arnold Young and the RoughTet- The Ship
7. Vanessa Rubin- Lincoln Hall
8. Timber Rattle- 9th & State
9. Angela Ward Trio- Blue Room
Herbie Hancock endorsed my Instagram video.
10. Pat Metheny in Kansas City: The Genesis of Genius- Polsky Theatre
Last month’s survey is here.
Little Big Ears
Original image of Drekka at 9th & State by There Stands the Glass.
Attending the Big Ears festival in 2019 was revelatory. I heard a score of monumental musicians for the first time in person. Meredith Monk! Evan Parker! Caroline Shaw! Leo Wadada Smith! My wide-ranging taste in music makes me a freak in Kansas City, but in Knoxville I discovered I'm not alone.
Ambrose Akinmusire, Tomeka Reid and Patti Smith were among the luminaries who performed on the opening night of the 2022 edition of the forward-thinking music festival in the picturesque Tennessee college town on Thursday, March 24. Marooned in Kansas City, I refused to pout. A pair of uncommon shows allowed me to simulate the Big Ears experience in a minuscule way.
The longtime Kansas City jazz dissenter Arnold Young performed selections from his new album at The Ship. (A Plastic Sax album review is in the works.) Backed by his aptly named band The Roughtet, the drummer tossed out acerbic barbs as he introduced each wild and wooly selection.
A few blocks away in the West Bottoms, the Extemporaneous Music Society presented a pair of experimental touring artists at 9th & State. Sitting at a low slung table, Timber Rattle created drone-like incantations that sounded like ritualistic pagan hymns to malevolent gods.
Small-scale application of fire and gymnastics made Drekka more visually provocative. Yet the New Age-ish evocation of earthly elements didn’t stir me. As a trio of Drekka devotees at a front table gave their hero a standing ovation, I exited the historic saloon into the lonesome Knoxvillian night.
Vengeful Eyes Wide Open
Screenshot of OperaVision’s trailer of Grand Théâtre de Genève’s production of Elektra by There Stands the Glass.
I regularly recall the spectacular production of Kanye West’s 2013-14 tour promoting his intentionally grating album Yeezus. The lascivious presentations of entertainers such as Doja Cat aside, it remains the most visually audacious show I’ve witnessed. I might feel differently had I been in Switzerland last month. The futuristic staging of Richard Strauss’ gory opera Elektra at Grand Théâtre de Genève is amazing. Opera critics hated it. (Representative bad reviews are here and here.) What do they know? I hope West steps away from social media for a couple hours to glean a more productive form of visual, auditory and thematic stimulation from the ingenious version of Elektra.
Album Review: Son House- Forever On My Mind
Listening to scratchy recordings of country bluesmen allowed me to bask in the ambience of a vastly different time and place when I was young. Forever On My Mind, a stellar batch of previously unreleased Son House recordings from 1964, obligated me to finally recognize that the messages conferred by extraordinary artists like House are universal. Now that I’ve survived more than half a century I’m finally able to receive meanings beyond ostensible subjects such as hell hounds, boll weevils and razor balls. I may not inhabit the same morgues, churches or street corners as House, but the worldview he shares on Forever On My Mind mirrors my awareness of the advancing specter of death and the corresponding sense of loss.
Album Review: Brad Mehldau- Jacob’s Ladder
Welcome back, my friends, to the show that never ends. My pals marveled at the preposterous size of Carl Palmer’s drum rig when we saw Emerson, Lake & Palmer perform at Kansas City’s Municipal Auditorium in 1977. With the punk and reggae insurgencies on my radar, I wasn’t quite as gobsmacked as my peers. Even so, I willingly submitted to the bombastic spectacle.
As I’ve periodically recalled at this site, progressive rock bands like Rush and jazz fusion ensembles including Return to Forever were the music of choice among boys in my neighborhood in the mid-’70s. The free-thinking musician Brad Mehldau apparently heard a lot of the same stuff during his formative years. He gives my guilty pleasures a breathtaking makeover on his latest release.
Like all proper prog-rock recordings, Jacob's Ladder is a concept album with a somewhat muddled theme. I suspect the biblical allegory will become clearer with repeated listening, but for now I’m entranced by Mehldau’s ability to tickle my repressed auditory pleasure centers without making me feel like a cheap date. Jacob’s Ladder is guaranteed to blow your head apart.
Concert Review: Sparks at the Crystal Ballroom
Original image by There Stands the Glass. The ticket’s comp label is misleading. I paid a pretty penny for it.
My earliest experiences with Sparks consisted of a series of disappointments. The band’s albums were staples of record store cutout bins in the 1970s. Intrigued by loopy cover art as a kid, I sporadically picked up much of their catalog at prices ranging from 25 to 99 cents. I was let down every time. Sparks’ lyrical and musical aesthetic was beyond my limited comprehension.
Knowing it was likely the only chance I’d have to witness a performance by the storied cult band, I splurged on a ticket to Sparks’ sold-out concert at the Crystal Ballroom in Portland on Sunday, March 13. After a handful of Blurty Bobs amid the audience of 1,500 were shamed into silence by hardcore fans in the first ten minutes of the 80-minute show, I grasped what had previously eluded me.
Accustomed to radio-ready pop, I didn’t understand Sparks’ allusions to the droll work of Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill when I was an uncultivated youth. Seeing the Mael brothers and their excellent accompanists render their repertoire of Weimar Republic-style cabaret songs as an aged bookworm brought Sparks into focus. My favorite new band is old. And I’m beside myself at the prospect of finally catching up.