King Crimson's Power Trio Classic Gets The Steven Wilson Surround Sound Treatment

Music Review: King Crimson - Red (Deluxe 40th Anniversary Edition)

The release of King Crimson's seminal 1974 album Red continues the overhaul of the progressive rock band's catalog that also — so far anyway — includes their debut album In The Court Of The Crimson King and Lizard. As was the case with those two albums, the remastering of this album was overseen by Porcupine Tree's Steven Wilson, along with founding member Robert Fripp.

Wilson was a great choice for this task for a couple of reasons. He's a longtime fan, and with Porcupine Tree and his other many projects, he also definitely has the necessary prog-rock credentials.

But beyond that, Wilson understands the possibilities of recording in the lossless surround sound format better than just about anybody. His remastering job here literally places you in the center of the room, particularly on the surround mixes for the DVD. This is as close to actually being there as it gets, folks.

By the time King Crimson originally released Red, they were essentially reduced down to the power-trio of Fripp on guitar and mellotron, John Wetton on bass and vocals, and Bill Bruford — who left the then-mega successful Yes to join up — on drums. Guest musicians like Mel Collins on soprano saxophone, Ian MacDonald on alto, and David Cross also make appearances.

What makes Red really stand out from previous King Crimson albums like In The Court Of The Crimson King though, is the way that the three core members create such a big noise. The fantasy inspired lyrics and symphonic sweep of their previous work had by this time been largely replaced by a more frenetic type of playing. On Red, King Crimson draw as much from heavy metal and a sort of pre-punk-rock racket as they do from prog and fusion-based jazz.

It's as though the smaller lineup — and the deceptively smaller (but no less intricate) arrangements of the songs — had finally freed these guys up to stretch themselves that much further musically. The result is music that is often difficult and occasionally even cacophonous listening — especially given the time it was recorded.

But for tech-purists and musician types, Red was, and is still now something of a wet dream. You can still hear its influence today in bands as diverse as Primus, Tool, and Wilson's own Porcupine Tree. If there is such an animal as jazz-punk-metal, King Crimson pretty much invented it on this album.

So what we have on this deluxe edition is a double-disc, featuring the entire album in both CD and the glorious sounding surround sound you get with the DVD. The latter of which is clearly the main event.

You can hear the difference immediately as Fripp's discordant fuzzed-out guitar leaps out of the speakers on the title track, followed in short order by Wetton's bass and Bruford's almost inhuman drumming. The raw power of that track has never sounded better than it does here, and is reason alone to get this immediately. This is power-trio playing at its finest and most frenetic, and Wilson's mix puts you right in the center of it.

The middle tracks of this album — which to me always seemed to be the lesser ones — also take on new life with the surround mix.

I still think "One More Red Nightmare" would have worked better as an instrumental, but even Wetton's vocal makes more sense in the remixed version. Fripp's discordant guitars, Bruford's intricate off-signature drumming, and especially Mel Collins' blaring soprano saxophone still create a eerily irresistible noise.

"Providence" is still just a bit meandering for my tastes, but again the surround sound here adds a new dimension, which this time comes in the form of the separation. Wetton's bass creates a newly thunderous boom, which Fripp's guitar and David Cross' violin slices through like butter. As for Bruford, he is just an absolute monster on the drums here.

The closest Crimson gets to the symphonic sweep of old comes on the album-closer "Starless," which remains one of the all-time great prog-rock epics.

The mellotron intro sounds as gorgeous as ever — did I mention I really miss that instrument? — and Collins' soprano sax gives it that perfect little extra kick. Again, Wilson's surround mix brings everything out that much more clearly. The way this song transitions from its melancholic beginning to Wetton's power bass chords, Fripp's droning guitar, and finally to the full-on fusion freakout at the end is mesmerizing. "Starless" has never sounded better than it does here.

The DVD also includes rare video of four songs recorded for French TV. As is often the case with video from this time period, there's the usual goofy psychedelic visual effects to put up with. But the performances are keepers, particularly "Larks Tongue In Aspic: Part II" and "Starless."

Kudos to Steven Wilson for a fine job on these King Crimson remasters. I can't wait to hear what he does by the time he gets to the eighties albums with Adrian Belew like Discipline and Beat.

Stones Get Their Ya-Ya's Out Again On A Classic That Just Got Better

Music Review: The Rolling Stones - Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out!: The Rolling Stones In Concert (40th Anniversary Deluxe Box Set)

If you didn't think it was possible to add anything to the story of the Rolling Stones historic 1969 American tour behind the album Let it Bleed, think again. You can now include this 40th Anniversary deluxe edition of Get Yer Ya Ya's Out to the growing list of documents from the legendary trek that ended with the infamous disaster at Altamont.

Get Yer Ya Ya's Out — which documents the Stones shows at New York's Madison Square Garden from that tour — has been called the greatest live rock album of all-time. While I don't necessarily share that view — my vote would go to The Who Live At Leeds — it is a damn great one. Top five of all-time for sure.

As with so many of these deluxe remastering jobs, the question here is how do you improve upon what has already been called perfection?
In this case, the answer is by simply adding to it. Which means that in addition to the ten songs of the original album, you get two additional CDs. One featuring sets by opening acts B.B. King and Ike And Tina Turner, and another featuring five more songs from the Stones themselves (which are also included on DVD).

So let's get the DVD out of the way first. The biggest surprises here come on the extras, and in the footage that isn't advertised.

There are scenes of the reigning rock royalty of the day like the Grateful Dead and Janis Joplin hanging out with the Stones backstage and elsewhere. There's even a very intriguing — and all too brief — shot of Jimi Hendrix trading licks with Keith Richards.

This is great stuff, that unfortunately also leaves you pondering what might have been left on the cutting room floor. There's also an unexpected — and quite hilarious — scene of Charlie Watts and the mule shooting bits for what eventually became the iconic cover art of this album. Priceless.

The live footage also mostly lives up to expectations. Particularly when the Stones burn down the Garden with a ferocious version of "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction." When an equally fiery coupling of "Under My Thumb" and "I'm Free" turns into a tight little medley though, the results are a little more frustrating.

The band sounds amazing — especially Richards and second guitarist Mick Taylor. But the camera work suffers from a bad case of the sixties, as druggy effects like slowed down video, and too many shots of the lights (and the hippies) detract from the actual performance. Which is too bad, because it's a great one. Thankfully, it's also captured on one of the bonus CDs.

Another cool extra is the booklet that comes inside the box. There's all kinds of previously unseen photos here.

The one that most caught my eye was a shot of what was at one point going to be the original cover. It features things like Jagger's Uncle Sam hat, his studded belt, and a joint all sitting atop a tour case. According to the accompanying story, Jagger shot it down for the cover because of the joint.

Also reproduced here is Lester Bangs' original review of Ya Ya's for Rolling Stone. Now you know where all that "greatest live album ever" talk got started, just in case you were wondering.

There's also a great story about how Janis Joplin felt she was dissed by the Stones backstage, and as a result yelled out "you haven't got the balls" from the crowd during the song "Live With Me." Since I'd never heard this before, this made me listen extra close for it on the remastered recording here. Hard as I tried, I just couldn't hear it.

I did however hear "paint it black, you devils" before "Sympathy For The Devil" just as clearly as I remember it. Ditto for Jagger teasing the girls up front with the whole "I think I busted the button on my trousers, hope they don't fall down" bit. It's hard to imagine today that stuff like this was once actually considered shocking.

Mostly though, I remember how great this album was, and this new remastered version stays very faithful to that original rawness. "Midnight Rambler" remains a revelation even now. Jagger milks the mid-section for all of its theatrical power, and Richards just blazes his way out of the gate to the finishing line at the end. It's every bit as great as a recall when I first it as a teenager.

For my money, the team of Richards and Mick Taylor remain the Stones all-time greatest duo of guitar slingers (sorry, Ronnie). The way they trade licks on "Little Queenie" and "Sympathy For The Devil" only reinforces that. The choice of "Jumping Jack Flash" and "Street Fighting Man" to open and close also remains one of the all-time best examples of how to bookend a great rock and roll show. There's a reason the Stones were called the greatest rock and roll band in the world. Actually, there are at least a hundred reasons.

I'm still not sure I completely understand the logic behind including the opening sets by B.B. King and Ike And Tina Turner here (and it certainly has to be a first on a live album by a rock band like the Stones). But I'm definitely glad they did.

B.B. King was said to have been disappointed by his performance that night, although I can find no evidence of why here. The five songs captured in King's set show the man for the master he is. The band — which is more like a small orchestra — are razor sharp, and if there is any flaw in King's playing, I can't hear it. I've always wanted a live B.B. King record, and now I've got one.

Ditto for Ike And Tina Turner.

As happy as I am that Tina finally got out from under his shadow — not to mention his abuse — I really miss the high-energy R&B shows she used to do with Ike. It's no secret that Tina taught Mick himself a few lessons in the art of stagecraft, and whether she is reinterpreting Dusty Springfield's "Son Of A Preacher Man" or blazing through "Sweet Soul Music" here, she comes damn close to upstaging the man himself. Tina's orgasmic middle-bit during "I've Been Loving You Too Long" alone is enough to send you in search of something to cool down with fast.

This 40th anniversary deluxe edition makes a fine addition to other 1969 Stones tour documents like the Gimme Shelter film, and of course the original Get Yer Ya Ya's Out.

It may not be the greatest live album of all time like they say. But it did just get a whole lot better.

My Posse's On Broadway...Again: Reuniting With Sir Mix-A-Lot

This past weekend, I spent a couple of days catching up with some old friends I hadn't seen in about ten years. The context for the reunion was a documentary film about the history of the Northwest hip-hop scene being shot in Seattle by local production company, Coolout Productions.

In this case, though, the occasion itself wasn't quite the most important thing. About ten years had passed since our last encounter, and I figured it was long overdue that I made a little time to catch up with my friends Sir Mix-A-Lot, Kid Sensation (a.k.a. Xola Malik), Attitude Adjuster, and my former drinking pal. Maharaji. I needed to see what these cats were up to lately.

Turns out they've been up to quite a bit too, but we'll get to all that in due course. First, a little history is probably is in order.

From around the mid-eighties to early-nineties, I was deeply involved in the Northwest hip-hop scene. I wrote about it for Seattle's music paper, The Rocket, sold it at Seattle's inner-city record store, Music Menu, and played it on the radio as DJ "Shockmaster" Glen Boyd — first on my own KCMU show Shock Frequency, later teaming up with DJ Nasty Nes for KCMU's Rap Attack. How the partnership between Nasty Nes and I came about is a story in and of itself, and one I'll save for a future article in this series.

During this same time, Sir Mix-A-Lot was a local rapper who was creating quite a stir both at local house parties as well as when Nes began playing his records like "Square Dance Rap" on his own Fresh Tracks radio show on the commercial R&B station K-FOX.

When the hastily pressed recordings began to sell like hotcakes off the griddle at stores like Music Menu and Tacoma's Penny Lane, Nes and local promoter Ed Locke formed Nastymix Records to distribute them. I eventually went to work for the label as head of National Retail Promotions. There was an album, and then another, and the rest was history.

I had the great fortune to witness this phenomenon from the ground up and — as gold and platinum records followed — I eventually rode the Sir Mix-A-Lot train all the way to a gig at Rick Rubin's Def American label along with a trip to the Grammys when Mix-A-Lot won for "Baby Got Back."

It was an amazing time, one made all the more dizzying by my ringside seat. At the time, a rapper from Seattle making it all the way to the top of the music mountain was simply unheard of — at least not in the grunge-loving town that gave birth to Nirvana, Soundgarden, and Alice In Chains.

And in this particular instance, the rapper in question also happened to be a good friend of mine.

Of all the people involved though — including, most importantly Sir Mix-A-Lot himself — I've only managed to stay in touch with Nasty Nes, who I see about once a year, but otherwise maintain regular correspondence with by e-mail. So a reunion with Mix-A-Lot and the rest of his group was long overdue.

It was time for the Posse On Broadway to roll...again.


After spending Friday night in a freezing-cold studio in Seattle's Belltown district to film interviews with Nes and myself about our days at KCMU and Nastymix, we met up Saturday morning at Nes' hotel near the airport to make our way to Mix-A-Lot's place. Actually, make that his mansion.

Driving up to its iron gates and viewing it from the outside at street level, Mix-A-Lot's "crib" looks like nothing so much as the classic mansion on a hill. If it we're just a bit darker and well-worn — and if you added in a few more bare trees with those skinny branches that seem to grow out from every direction — Mix's house wouldn't look out of a place in a film like House On Haunted Hill.

After making the long trek up a winding driveway leading to the inner sanctum, we made our way inside and found the interior to be no less impressive than the golf-course-perfect grounds outside. Sir Mix-A-Lot greeted us at the door and gave a quick tour, which included long spiral stairways, a kitchen the size of my entire house, an Olympic-sized indoor swimming pool, a basketball court, and space for a yet-to-be-built recording studio.

I found myself torn between thoughts of pride in how well my old friend has done for himself and wondering at exactly what point had I made my own wrong turn off of this personal road.

More than that though, I was also very curious about how Mix-A-Lot could continue to live this, quite frankly, large. After all it has been 15 years since "Baby Got Back," and the hits haven't exactly kept on coming since. As it turned out, though, I would get my answers to that and other questions soon enough.

After exchanging some old war stories about the days at Nastymix (such as the way Mix-A-Lot announced to both staff at the label and to the rest of the world — through a bold double-paged ad in Billboard Magazine — that he was leaving to launch his own Rhyme Cartel enterprise), it was time to get caught up on the present.

In one more quick war story though, Mix recalled our own relationship, and the first time I criticized one of his songs — the title track to his debut album Swass. "Glen was always real nice about telling me something sucked," Mix laughed. "'Swass' was the song I wanted to push, but Glen wasn't hearing it. He was all about 'Posse On Broadway,' and he was right."

Just as I was soaking up this unexpected praise from my old friend, however, Mix nailed me cold. "The only thing is, when The Pussycat Dolls used part of "Swass" (for their mega-hit "Don't Cha'"), that's what paid for this house." I guess even the Shockmaster can get it wrong every now and then.

In fact, artists like the Pussycat Dolls and movies like the Charlie's Angels remake (and Cameron Diaz's famous scene dancing to "Baby Got Back") are exactly what has kept the Sir Mix-A-Lot brand fresh in the minds of music fans for all these years — ever since the 1993 smash became that year's second-bestselling single (Only Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You" outsold it).

Always an astute businessman, Mix-A-Lot's choices about how that brand is marketed and represented have always been paramount. He says he's been blessed too many times over the course of his life and career to chalk it up to mere chance. Which is why these days, Mix-A-Lot takes nothing for granted — especially the brand.

"The main thing is I have to have creative control. And don't think I haven't been offered reality shows," Mix-A-Lot said. "But when we did the Burger King ads, that was the first thing they said — it's a good thing you didn't do those reality shows, or we wouldn't be here. But Burger King was great to work with. They left me alone and let me do my own thing. Target was the same way."

What Sir Mix-A-Lot wants more than anything else these days, however, is to be recognized for his talents outside of the limelight — producing and working with other artists. To that end, he has relaunched his Rhyme Cartel label and is working with a group of artists, including rapper E-Dawg, hybrid rocker/rapper Outtasite, and neo-soul singer/songwriter Tomeka Williams.

"I've always been an electronics and a gadget guy," Mix-A-Lot says. "So I want to show my skills there by doing the best job I can with these new artists, and then by putting their stuff out there the right way. Not just with the Internet and the viral marketing, but with the right kind of shows — and not the chitlin' sort of circuit we came up on."

The rest of Sir Mix-A-Lot's original group — Kid Sensation, Attitude Adjuster, Maharaji, and Nasty Nes — all share a collective laugh at that last statement. They've also been busy with their own projects and, in most cases, also have families of their own these days.

Kid Sensation (who currently goes by the name Xola Malik) is still making solo albums, as well as working with charities like the United Way, and athletes like baseball stars Ichiro Suzuki and his longtime friend Ken Griffey Jr. Attitude Adjuster and Maharaji are working on solo projects of their own, with Maharaji also working with a left-handed guitar whiz from Colorado who he describes as "insane" (which means good, by the way). Nasty Nes is CEO of his own record marketing firm Rap Attack Lives, and has also done some acting, including a recent spot on NBC's E.R..

Sir Mix-A-Lot also says he has at least one album of his own left in him. "I don't have anything to prove anymore, so I don't really care if it sells thirty copies or thirty million. I'm just doing this one for me. And it won't all be rap stuff either. Hip-hop is always gonna be my first love. But it's not the only thing I'm about. I just love music."

It was great catching up with old friends again. By the way, that's me you'll miss if you blink as I "walk into the party looking like Joker" in the video below.

'Twas another lifetime...




Photo Credits: 2009 by Coolout Network

Robert Fripp and Steven Wilson Breathe New Life Into A Crimson Classic

Music Review: King Crimson - In The Court Of The Crimson King (Deluxe 40th Anniversary Edition)

For better or for worse, a pretty decent argument can be mounted that progressive rock — or "prog" as we know it today — was born with the 1969 release of King Crimson's first album In The Court Of The Crimson King.

The British band's early fans included Pete Townshend and Jimi Hendrix, and it only took one listen for legendary music-exec Ahmet Ertegun to sign them to his Atlantic Records on the spot.

Now, forty years later, another of King Crimson's fans, Porcupine Tree's studio wizard and resident genius Steven Wilson has overseen a 40th Anniversary deluxe edition of this landmark album, working alongside founding member Robert Fripp. Wilson is said to have revered the album as a teenager, and is also managing the analog to digital transfer of a number of other nuggets from the Crimson catalogue.

But back to this one.

In The Court Of The Crimson King made its impact way back in 1969, by breaking the blues-rock mold of British rock at the time. Crimson instead stretched those boundaries to include much longer arrangements, where the guitar was not always the most prominent instrument. The original album has only five tracks, and there is not a guitar solo amongst them (even though Robert Fripp was, and is one of rock's most inventive guitarists).

The albums five songs vary from the studio treated vocals and jazz-rock-fusion freak out of "21st Century Schizoid Man," to the mellotron-laced symphonic rock of "Epitaph" and the lilting woodwinds of "I Talk To The Wind." Prog-rock bands from Genesis to Rush to Wilson's own Porcupine Tree all adopted Crimson's blueprint in one form or another over the subsequent decades to come.

Amazingly, the group's original incarnation only produced this single album and broke up less than a year later (although Fripp kept the name, and fronted several subsequent lineups of the band through the seventies, eighties, and beyond).

For the 40th Anniversary edition of In The Court Of The Crimson King, Wilson has transferred the original five tracks to digital, and remastered them in MLPS lossless format, including a 5.1 sen-surround mix that is included on the DVD. There is also a 2009 stereo mix on the CD.

The bonus material includes alternate mixes of each track (on both the CD and the DVD), as well an alternate version of the entire album on the DVD built from alternate takes and, in the case of "I Talk To The Wind," a practice run at the song in the studio. None of these have been previously released.

Wilson's mix of the original album is the real prize here though. The album sounds just as revolutionary now as it did then, and Wilson does a fine job with the remastering. Greg Lake's vocals (and yes, that is the same Lake of Emerson, Lake & Palmer fame), reveal a rather underrated vocalist equally at home with the frenzied jazz-rock-fusion of "Schizoid Man" and the introspective fantasy-laced lyrics of the title track.

Elsewhere, the audio separation is flawless (especially on the 5.1 mixes). The drums are crisp and clear; the woodwinds, flutes, and mellotrons float like butterflies; and the guitars sting like bees.

The bonus material is noteworthy mainly for the fact that it appears here for the first time ever, but is otherwise nothing you'd miss (unless you are a hardcore fan of course). If anything, the alternate versions of these songs just confirm that the final selections made were the correct ones.

Likewise with the restored DVD footage of King Crimson performing "Schizoid Man" at London's Hyde Park (opening for the Stones). The mono mix isn't unlistenable, but hearing the rest in 5.1 does tend to spoil you a bit. The black and white video is likewise grainy, and features as many shots of dancing hippies and flower children as there are of the band.

All in all though, Wilson and Fripp have done a fabulous job here. If you don't already own this progressive rock landmark, I can't think of a better introduction. Robert Fripp and Steven Wilson have breathed new life into a Crimson classic.

Tom Waits Glitter And Doom Live: As Thick And Murky As Louisiana Gumbo

Music Review: Tom Waits - Glitter And Doom Live

Tom Waits is that rarest breed of artists who occupies a place that is truly unique in all of music. Early on in his career, Waits was known primarily as the guy who wrote all those great songs for laid back seventies "mellow-rock" artists from California like the Eagles and Linda Ronstadt.

No less than Bruce Springsteen also made a Waits composition his own, with "Jersey Girl" (which is a staple whenever the Boss plays shows in his home state), and even Bob Dylan has been compared to Waits with the ragged vocal tone (or "the Croak"), he has taken on with his most recent albums.

That same croak has become what people have known Waits best by, for going on at least three decades now. It dates back at least as far as mid-seventies albums like Small Change and the classic Nighthawks At The Diner live set (which was recorded with a small jazz trio).

From there, Waits adopted numerous variations of the down-on-his-luck vagabond drifter persona he brings to life with his songs in a way few others can match.

He's taken on the role of everything from carnival barker to bohemian coffee-house beat-poet, to seedy piano-bar lounge singer. There was even a period for awhile there in the nineties when he turned the Euro-noir of Bertoldt Brecht on its ear.

The common thread running through most all of Waits' songs though is his embrace of the dregs of society's seedier underbelly.

With that unmistakable voice — it can best be described as the result of far too many nights of cheap, rot-gut whiskey and cigarettes — Waits has that part down to a science. From the guy eating his "Eggs And Sausage" on Nighthawks to the grifters hawking their wares on the corner of Heartattack And Vine, no one sounds quite like him.

He's an acquired taste to be sure.

But what those in the know will also tell you, is that Tom Waits applies a cinematographer's sweep to his songs like nobody outside of maybe Springsteen or Dylan (both of whom have been influenced by him, as we've already discussed).

What you don't hear nearly as often though, is just how mesmerizing a live performer Tom Waits is. Personally, I've seen him twice — on the tours behind Small Change (where he played with a small jazz trio) and Blue Valentine (with a larger five piece band), and was absolutely spellbound by both performances.

Waits also picks great musicians for his bands without fail. On his one official concert movie, Big Time for example, the band was led by the great guitarist Marc Ribot (and if anyone knows how to get a DVD copy of that show, please e-mail me post haste — I promise I'll make it worth your while).

So anytime Tom Waits puts out a live recording, it's a rare treat and the new double-disc Glitter And Doom Live is no exception. My only complaint here is that I wish there was a DVD version available, as Waits' concerts tend to be as much a great visual experience as a musical one.

As always, Waits has assembled a great band here, which is a seven piece ensemble this time around. It's highlighted by another great guitarist (Omar Torez), upright bassist Seth Ford-Young, and keyboardist Patrick Warren (who tackles everything from reed organ and vibes to mellotron).

As for the music — recorded during stops on Waits' 2008 sold-out tours of America and Europe — this is some dark, swampy sounding shit, that's as thick and murky as a spicy Louisiana Gumbo. There are elements of everything from the torchy lounge-jazz you might hear round' closing time at some dive bar, to thick sounding Missisippi Delta Blues (the Harp driven "Get Behind The Mule").

In between, Waits touches on everything from the boozy sea shanty of "Singapore," to the Swamp-rock of "Goin' Out West" (think Bayou Country-era John Fogerty), to even a funeral dirge on "Dirt In The Ground." As always, the songs are also populated by seedy characters like the guy who begins his journey in the "sewers of Paris" on "Singapore," to the opium dealer "William The Pleaser" (on the album opening "Lucinda/Aint' Goin' Down").

On the second disc, you get nearly forty minutes of "Tom's Tales," which are the quirky (and quite humorous) stories Waits tells from behind the piano at most of his shows. I won't spoil any of those here, except of course to say that Tom's apparently discovered e-bay. Don't miss it.

Tom Waits' Glitter And Doom Live comes out this Tuesday, November 24.

The Engineers Blissful, Cacophonous Sonic Intensity
Music Review: Engineers - Three Fact Fader

Engineers are a four-piece band who, ever since the release of their 2005 debut album, have been favorably compared to everyone from My Bloody Valentine to Phil Spector (of all people), but who in reality sound like none of them.

Most often associated with what's been labeled "shoegaze" (which is where the My Bloody Valentine comparisons probably spring from), what Engineers share with other bands of that genre is an ability to slowly build musical layers into a sweeping wall of sound (hence, the nods to Spector).

Using a mostly basic lineup of guitars, bass, voice, and drums — along with keyboards and the occasional string quartet — what these guys really specialize in is dreamy, hypnotic soundscapes that, if anything, remind me of the gorgeously constructed noise of mostly forgotten nineties bands like Ride and Medicine.

When it works, which it does throughout most of Three Fact Fader, the net result is music that mostly washes over you in waves. There are certainly some commonalities with the so-called shoegaze bands, but for my money Engineers take things a step further.

What Engineers don't share with those bands, however, is their often brash approach. The music here also doesn't come so much in the form of traditional songs, as it does in deep, dense layers of sound.

Take a track like "Brighter Than We Fall," for instance. Here, the sort of echo-drenched guitar that wouldn't be out of place on a prog-rock album by Pink Floyd or Porcupine Tree draws you in for several minutes, gathering quiet intensity until, before you know it, you are enveloped in a wall of near cacophonous noise by the end. The effect — which is literally like being sucked down into a tunnel — is nonetheless a euphoric one. Cacophony has rarely sounded this good.

On "Hang Your Head," the effect is much the same — only this time the layers are in the voices (and isn't that a tambourine I hear way down there somewhere?). The thing here is that these Engineers don't write their music so much as construct it brick by brick.

Remember the feeling Lennon was going for in the Beatles' "Tomorrow Never Knows"? This is awful close to that, only multiplied by several levels of blissful, sonic intensity.

It's hard to put into words really. Call it a transcendental joyride without the Maharishi, or a little like falling deep down the rabbit hole without the drugs (or the soporific New Age Music).

All I know is I really like it, and I'm betting you will too.

MK-Ultra: The C.I.A., The Beard, The Mad Scientist And LSD

Graphic Novel Review: The Sinister Truth: MK-Ultra by Jason Ciaccia And Aaron Norhanian

The stories have been around for decades. Government Black-Ops, assassinations, and mind control, all fully sanctioned and approved by the highest levels of the United States Government, and carried out by the shadowy spies and spooks who operate within the cloak and dagger world of our own Central Intelligence Agency.

That much is pretty much common knowledge. But what of some of the wilder stories making the rounds among the conspiracy theorists and the other fruit baskets out there?

That the C.I.A. conducted horrific medical experiments on unsuspecting operatives and civilians alike — using LSD, brain implants, and worse — in an apparent attempt to transform their test subjects into brain-dead, yet obedient walking zombies?

As it turns out, the conspiracy nuts may have got that one right after all. Fortunately for those of us inquiring minds who want to know, but haven't the time or inclination to sift through the 18,000 or so documents about such things as Project MK-Ultra de-classified through the Freedom Of Information Act, writer Jason Ciaccia and illustrator Aaron Norhanian have provided us with the next best thing. They've turned it into a comic book.

Using the Graphic Novel medium, The Sinister Truth: Project MK-Ultra tells the entire story of the C.I.A.'s infamous mind control project, in both an easy to follow narrative as well as with striking, often graphic images that are a cross between the wigged-out psychedelic art of someone like R. Crumb, and the pornier cartoons you'll find in the back pages of Playboy. Given the subject matter, it makes for a potent and appropriate mix.

Conspiracy fodder aside, the story itself is wilder and further out there than anything you'll read in an Ian Flemming novel — the James Bond author was sought out for advice about the "Cuba problem" by none other than JFK by the way.

There's a colorful cast of characters including a Mad Doctor, "The Beard," and your usual assortment of garden variety government spooks. Yet every bit of it is backed by government documents verifying the story, many of which are annotated at the bottom of the pages, while others are reproduced in the back of the book.

The story begins at the height of the Cold War, and with America's newly inherited "Cuba problem," in the form of one communist Fidel Castro parked just ninety miles off the coast of Florida. Needless to say, this has Uncle Sam understandably concerned, and the C.I.A. is dispatched to handle "the Beard."

Which they attempt to do exactly 638 times, in a series of comically failed assassination plots, each of which seems to be more ridiculous than the last. The plots to kill Castro include Operation Groucho (exploding cigar), Operation Stuffed Mushroom (Death by fungus infected scuba gear), and Operation Conch Shell (exploding Conch Shell).

Honestly, you couldn't make this stuff up if you were writing episodes of Get Smart. What gives the humor here its darker edges though, is the fact that it's all true.

Enter Dr. Sidney Gottlieb, a mad scientist straight out of Frankenstein territory if ever there was one, and as head of the C.I.A.'s chemical division, the man responsible for MK-Ultra (or the agency's mind control project). In his efforts to create the perfect obedient assassin, Gottlieb goes to pretty much any extreme necessary to turn the human mind into his personal petri dish — including brain implants, radiation, and mind-bending drugs like LSD. Lots and lots of LSD.

As part of a new plot (Operation Goodtimes) to discredit Castro by dosing him with LSD before a speech to his country, Gottlieb dispatches "Bob," a particularly brain-damaged operative to do the dirty work. As it turns out though, Bob's brain has become so completely turned to jelly by Gottlieb's diabolical handiwork, that he ends up doing things like beheading a hotel maid. All of which are depicted in the gloriously gory black and white images here.

The Sinister Truth: MK-Ultra is not for the timid or the squeamish. But it does its job of condensing one of the darker and under-reported chapters of U.S. intelligence history into an entertaining, easily digested narrative with the sort of psychotronic comic art that fits the subject like a black glove. The book can be ordered by going to the Sinister Truth website.

Macca Covers All The Bases On This Night At The Ball Park

Music Review: Paul McCartney - Good Evening New York City (2 CD/1 DVD Edition)

A new live album from Paul McCartney is really nothing new at all anymore. Ever since he began playing the old Beatles tunes again, Macca's been cranking the live CD and DVD packages out at what seems to be a near annual rate.

What makes Good Evening New York City something special though, is probably more its historical value than anything else. That, plus the fact that in addition to the usual setlist with "Hey Jude," "Band on The Run," "Live And Let Die" and the rest, McCartney offers up some rarely played choice cuts, as well as versions of newer songs that rock more than they really have any right to.

The occasion of Good Evening New York City is last summer's three-night stand inaugurating New York's Citi Field, some 45 years after the Beatles played the site of the former Shea Stadium.

In this 2 CD/1 DVD package — it's also available in a deluxe edition with a bonus disc of Macca playing Let It Be style on the roof of the Ed Sullivan Theatre — the eternally young McCartney and his crack band are captured in a nearly three hour, 33 song set that is like a trip down memory lane.


From the Beatles to Wings to the Fireman, no base was left uncovered on this night at the new ball park — not bad for a guy well into his sixties. I can't imagine anyone who was actually there leaving the stadium feeling they got anything less than their moneys worth on what I'm quite sure was a pricey ticket.

Although the exact same setlist is captured on both the two CDs and the single DVD, there are some interesting differences here. The CDs feature none of the in-between song banter seen and heard on the DVD for one thing, so it plays more like a non-stop performance on the audio portion.

The DVD on the other hand plays like so many of McCartney's other live concert films do. There are nearly as many shots of audience members hugging, holding up signs, and dancing in the aisles as there are of the band playing — which on past DVDs has proved occasionally frustrating.

On The Space Between Us for example, nearly all of "Hey Jude" was cut to make room for an interview with a family of fans at about the mid-song point. Fortunately, "Hey Jude" gets a complete airing here, in all of its sing-along glory. And I don't care what anyone says, I could hear "Jude" on a thousand concert recordings, and it still gets me every single time.

On "I'm Down," the DVD also splices back and forth between the Citi Field performance, and the Beatles doing it 45 years ago at Shea. As much as that might sound like a potential disaster, they actually pull this trick off. On the CD however, they stick to the version from the 2009 concert.

Those who already own some of Macca's past live recordings, will want to get this one if for no reason than the ferocious version here of the rarely played "Day Tripper." Other highlights include surprisingly fresh takes on recent tracks from Memory Almost Full ("Only Mama Knows," "Dance Tonight") and The Fireman ("Highway," "Sing The Changes"). Billy Joel also shows up for "I Saw Her Standing There."

If most of the rest seems more than a bit familiar from McCartney's numerous other live albums — well, that's because it is. Even so, Good Evening New York City is probably the most well done of the lot to date. In stores November 17.

The Fourth Kind: Part Close Encounters, Part Exorcist, And 100% Not Real

Movie Review: The Fourth Kind

For those who take the subject matter seriously, it has been a long held belief that Hollywood doesn't have a very good track record when it comes to films dealing with the subject of UFOs and alien abduction.

In fact, most, if not all of the big-screen films based on actual UFO and alien abduction case files — from Communion to Fire In The Sky — have been disasters from the perspective of those who have either investigated or actually experienced such encounters.

In the case of Communion, author and contactee Whitley Strieber is portrayed in such a way as to suggest the only "close encounter" he has experienced is one of the psychotic kind. To anyone familiar with the abduction case of Travis Walton, there are entire scenes of his story as told in Fire In The Sky that simply never happened.

Like those films, Universal's The Fourth Kind purports, and in fact goes to great lengths to convince the viewer that it too is based on actual events — except that it isn't. The only back story here is rather the result of one of those viral marketing campaigns which most recently worked so well for Paranormal Activity.
The Fourth Kind centers on a series of unexplained disappearances occurring in Nome, Alaska (that part is real) which may be tied to alien abductions (that part isn't). Milla Jovovich plays Dr. Abigail Tyler, a psychiatrist investigating the cases. The title refers to what ufologists call a close encounter of the fourth kind, which involves alien abduction. Steven Spielberg's famous film Close Encounters Of The Third Kind refers to contact. This movie should in no way be confused with Spielberg's classic though.

In the opening scene, Jovovich appears as herself, and explains she will be portraying Tyler, and that the film includes actual audio and video footage from Tyler's case files. This illusion continues with director Olatunde Osunsanmi interviewing the "real" Tyler, and then throughout the film with split-screen images of Jovovich and the other Abigail Tyler often simultaneously reciting and acting the same lines and scenes.

As a storytelling device, it's a clever one and does seem to lend an air of authenticity to the story, as the events, some of which are pretty terrifying, unfold on screen. The trick is, however, revealed for the ruse it is, when some of the actors portraying the abductees are actually more convincing at expressing terror than their counterparts in the "real" footage. One scene which purports to show an abductee driven by madness to murdering his family, in particular, exposes the parlor tricks at work here.

Even so, The Fourth Kind plays this card right up until the end of the movie. It's a clever enough idea to a point, but one can only willingly suspend disbelief for so long, until it just becomes a distraction. By the time phenomena more closely resembling demonic possession than anything from classic alien abduction cases begins to manifest, the thin strings holding the plot together completely unravel.

What's left is an uneven mess that plays like one part Close Encounters multiplied by several times The Exorcist. The cast mostly gets an A for effort in a lost cause — particularly Jovovich and the actress portraying the "real" Dr. Abigail Tyler, and I'll even give director Osunsanmi credit for a noble try at something a little different as far as his storytelling method goes.

At the same time, though, The Fourth Kind loses points for trying a little too hard to push a story that simply doesn't hold up. Studio-created websites aside, a Google search for "Nome alien abductions" turns up little to support it.

While there have been some unexplained disappearances in Nome over the years, F.B.I. investigations suggest these may have been due more to bad weather, tough terrain, and close encounters of the alcoholic kind.

As escapist entertainment, The Fourth Kind is harmless enough. Even so, it fails to redeem or change Hollywood's poor track record for telling a good alien abduction story. Sadly, that record remains very much intact.

Is Aerosmith Finished?: Steven Tyler Walks His Way Out

Steven Tyler, the eternally young 61 year old lead vocalist for Aerosmith has apparently decided to walk his way right out of the mega-successful American rock band.

According to numerous reports published today on the internet, Tyler has left the group to pursue a career as a solo artist. Guitarist Joe Perry says Tyler quit Aerosmith following a concert in the United Arab Emirates Abu Dhabi.

"Steven quit, as far as I can tell," Perry told the Las Vegas Sun. "I don't know anymore than you do about it. I got off the plane two nights ago. I saw online that Steven said that he was going to leave the band. I don't know for how long, indefinitely or whatever."

Aerosmith are of course no strangers to internal feuding within the band, often related to widely reported drug abuse in the past — and earning Tyler and Perry their infamous nicknames "The Toxic Twins" during the band's early to mid seventies years. Most famously, Perry left Aerosmith in the late seventies to form the Joe Perry Project, while Tyler carried on with replacement guitarists on the album Rock In A Hard Place, scoring a moderate hit with the song "Lightnin' Strikes."

Perry rejoined Aerosmith for the Done With Mirrors album, and with the newly "drug-free" incarnation of the band, went on to renewed success in the eighties and nineties with albums like Permanent Vacation and Pump. A remake of the band's "Walk This Way" with veteran rappers Run-DMC further re-established Aerosmith as one of the top bands in rock and roll.

Just this past summer, Aerosmith had to cancel a number of dates on their co-headlining tour with ZZ Top after Tyler injured himself after falling from the stage at a concert. The band also recently postponed an album planned for later this year.

In a conversation with Peter Makowski of Classic Rock magazine, guitarist Brad Whitford seemed to leave the next move for the veteran hard rockers wide open. Indicating the band would meet soon to discuss future plans, Whitford seemed to leave the door open for either packing it in, or possibly carrying on with a new lead singer.

“Nobody could replace Steven or imitate him – he’s one of a kind. But if somebody was willing to do it and the chemistry was right, why not?,” Whitford said.

It's certainly clear that Perry prefers that some form of Aerosmith will continue, with or without their lead singer and most visible member. "Right now I'm adjusting to how we're going to go on," Perry said.

The Rockologist: The Thought, The Thump, And The Poetry

It's a funny thing about rock stars.

You'd think that so many of them have the world on a string, the tiger by the tail, or whatever you'd otherwise choose to call it.

Let's talk first about the lifestyle, or at least what we know about it as outsiders living vicariously through reading about it in the Random Notes section of Rolling Stone, or maybe seeing it in the nude pictures of Keith Richards lying on some beach in France we see showing up on the Internet.

And just for the record, if that particular image grosses you out, you are by no means alone.

Anyway, you'd think a life of selling millions of records, living in English countryside mansions, dating 20-something year-old super models into your 60s, and pretty much having the world as your personal oyster would be enough, right? Well, think again.

You see, for the select handful of rock royalty who have actually scaled the top of the mountain, there remains that one elusive final hill to climb, and that my friends, is artistic redemption.

It's one thing to top the charts on Billboard, but it's quite another to have the sort of pretentious types who sip wine at art galleries poring over your every word as though it were manna from heaven itself.

Even so, many have tried.

For rock stars like Mick Jagger, David Bowie, and Sting, for example, acting in films has represented the the most obvious avenue towards this type of validation, and as could be expected the results have been decidedly mixed.

Jagger, most notably, is back singing "Jumping Jack Flash" for the umpteenth time after getting mixed reviews in movies from Performance and Ned Kelly, to Freejack. Bowie did a great job playing himself in The Man Who Fell To Earth, and the less said about Sting acting in movies like David Lynch's production of Dune the better.

Of these, Sting alone refuses to give up however. He's spent the better part of the last two decades trying to reinvent himself as a solo artist dabbling in everything from jazz to Gregorian chants when all most of us want to hear is "Roxanne" with the Police one more time — and not have to pay 300 bucks a ticket for the privilege of doing so, I might add.

In so doing, Sting joins the likes of people like Peter Gabriel, Paul Simon, and especially David Byrne who seem hellbent on cramming culture down the throats of fans who would much rather hear "Burning Down The House" or "Shock The Monkey" one more time.

You know what I mean? Good.

Because rather than piss off all of the South African or Brazilian union musicians who play on records by Sting and David Byrne, I have a rather novel idea. Follow the poets.

Tribal rhythms and all aside, rock and poetry is the one combination which has worked best over the years to satisfy the need to reconcile commercial success with artistic credibility for attention starved rock stars.

Elvis Costello can record vanity projects with the Brodsky Quartet, and Paul McCartney can write his symphonies, but let's be honest here. Nothing works for rock stars quite like poetry.

Some rock stars are in fact naturals at it. For that you can reference Lennon, Dylan, Springsteen, and even Bono (at least on a good day). Others? Well they fake it really well.

The most obvious example here is Jim Morrison. By all accounts, the one-time Lizard King spent his final years wandering the streets of Paris in a boozed-out haze trying to connect with his inner Rimbaud, and left us with An American Prayer.

Drunken ramblings about a "Lament For My Cock" aside, that album actually has an oddly haunting, hypnotic quality to it too, played as it is to the surviving members of the Doors providing a lounge-jazz music backing soundtrack.

Of those rock stars who are still among us though, I would point towards Patti Smith and Tom Waits as the two greatest living examples of artists who combine the thought of poetry with the thump of rock and roll with any degree of success.

Patti Smith's landmark debut album Horses alone stands as something which qualifies her for goddess status. Nowhere in all of rock and roll will you find something that combines the raw punk rock urgency of her take on "Gloria" with the gorgeous stream of consciousness poetry of the amazing nine or so minutes of "Birdland" (a tonal poem, which to best I can figure has something to do with being taken up in a UFO). It is an absolutely spellbinding album.


Patti's work has been spotty since coming back in the '90s, but Horses is a masterpiece that on its own qualifies her as one of the true greats.

And then there's Tom Waits.

Waits is a different animal entirely. After writing songs that became hits for people like Linda Ronstadt in the '70s, Tom Waits has spent the better part of the last three decades traveling down the darkest streets and alleyways of the world, and singing about them in a voice choked with cigarettes, whiskey, and God only knows what else.

Over the years, Waits has taken on the character of everything from vagabond drifter to carnival barker, to create a persona that is truly unique in all of music. Even someone as mighty as Bob Dylan has been compared to him in the voice he has taken on in his most recent albums.

If there is any guy alive who sings about the seedy underbelly of society with legitimate street cred, it is Tom Waits. Sometimes, I even find myself praying for the guy, he makes it all seem so real. An advance listen to Waits' forthcoming Glitter And Doom Live (review forthcoming) is in fact what inspired this article.

The second disc — which consists entirely of "Tom's Tales" is particularly good.

If true artistic credibility means the ability of the listener to live vicariously through the words of the artist, then I defy anyone to find an artist more credible than Tom Waits.

It's all about putting it into words.

The Politics Of Job Hunting

Bring Lawyers, Guns, And Money...

Before I get started here, I need to preface this article by qualifying a few quick things.

First and foremost, I have been gainfully unemployed for nearly a year now. I won't explain the circumstances, other than that they are related to the recession, which is far from being over, no matter what they tell you. Thank you, Mr. Bush.

Needless to say, I'm also not real happy about it. Just ask my landlord. Better yet, ask my fellow editors at Blogcritics.

I'm not sleeping well. I'm not eating right. I'm downright irritable. I live in a dump, I drink more than I should, and my feet probably stink to boot. I'm generally a pretty agreeable fellow and all, but these days even my loyal cat Smokey knows when to get the hell out of my way.

But I'm not a complainer by nature (well okay, not on most days anyway).

I understand why most employers require background checks, and I've also become more than accustomed to filling out very lengthy job applications. Even so, these are often quite invasive on a personal level, and require an accounting of one's personal life that is, well...extensive to say the least.

In the interest of rooting out all the sex offenders, the alcoholics, the terrorists, and the criminals, corporate America is doing a fine job of providing a template worthy of what, I'm quite sure, God Himself will use, come Judgment Day. Beware all ye sinners, because even God knows how to Google search your past.

But the thing is, somewhere along the line we, as a society, surrendered our rights to information that, in a decent world anyway, is supposed to be kept private. Even though I don't necessarily agree with it, I've learned to accept it.

But secondly, I just want to work, dammit.

Honestly, I do. Some folks on the government dole would prefer to stay there for as long as Obama grants those unemployment extensions. Much as they have thankfully sustained me for the past year, I'm not one of them. 300 bucks a week just doesn't cut it in an economy where filling the tank for an interview costs the same as the grocery bill. Never mind the smokes and the beer.

It used to be that applying for work was a simple matter of filling out a basic application, which for the fortunate was followed by an interview where the employer basically sized you up to figure out if a.) you were qualified, and b.) whether or not they liked you.

Not so, these days.

Having been out of meaningful full-time work for some eleven months now (side gig doing what I love most at Blogcritics for that precious beer money aside of course), I have applied for hundreds of jobs (most of which I am eminently qualified for). What I have found is that looking for work is the hardest full-time job I have ever had. Hands down.

There has to be a balance somewhere.

For those fortunate enough to get to that coveted first interview, what used to be a get-acquainted process of getting sized-up has become something more akin to a very hostile Roman arena where you are the Christian and they are the lions. These days a job interview is more about why they shouldn't hire you than why they should.

Meet the new boss, or maybe not. In today's reality, it's more like you better, you bet (God bless you, Pete Townshend).

But that isn't even what I want to talk about here. I want to talk about the application that is supposed to get you that ticket to the lion's den.

Quick question here:

How many of you keep a record of everything you have ever done for the past ten years, including names, dates, addresses, zip codes, and phone numbers handy? Well you had best start doing so, just in case of the event you should ever find yourself laid off.

Most of the pre-screening process these days takes place online. And where it used to be about the easy task of securing accounts at Monster, Career Builder, and the rest, and just clicking your mouse to apply for a job — these days that single click increasingly just redirects you to an employer website. Once there, nothing less than a complete accounting of your last ten years on this earth will suffice. That means names, dates, addresses, e-mails, and phone numbers of everyone you have ever known or ever will. The Social Security and drivers license number invasions into your private life are now simply a warm-up to the real inquisition.

I don't know about you, but when I leave a job (and I've left many), I usually want to just put it behind me (at least outside of keeping the most basic record). Not possible anymore. Anything less than the sort of full accounting worthy of a courtroom scene from Law And Order will result in a mistrial — or at least get you booted off the corporate website application process.

Somewhere, someplace out there, there is a genius lying in wait who will one day make a killing off of the next great innovation in our increasingly litigious society — defense attorney insurance for the unemployed.

Which leaves the scams.

Membership on sites like Monster and Career Builder virtually guarantees it — as well as all the accompanying spyware, malware, and viruses that are a given for anyone foolish or naive enough to sign up for them in the misguided hopes of actually landing a job. Talk about a screening process.

Trust me. I've had to wipe my computer more times in the past four months than I've had to wipe my ass. I wish I could say it was because I was busy pleasuring myself to porn or downloading suspect bootlegs. The sad truth is I've been unwittingly downloading job porn.

To those of you who have recently joined the ranks of the unemployed, all I can say is prepare for the adventure of a lifetime, and for the toughest full-time job you will ever have. And know that I feel your pain.

Buyer Beware.

To the rest of you out there in corporate America, despite my protests about your methods and all, I can absolutely assure you that I'm your guy, and that you won't be sorry if you sign me up for a lifetime of servitude to, well whatever you would have me do.

Just bring Lawyers, Guns, And Money.

An Unexpected And Surprising New Album From An Old Friend

Music Review: Al Stewart - Uncorked (Live With Dave Nachmanoff)

Al Stewart's first all-acoustic live recording since 1992's Rhymes In Rooms is a little like reconnecting with an old friend.

Although not entirely unexpected, it's still a welcome reminder of just how fine a talent the one-time "Year Of The Cat" hitmaker really is. Especially when left alone in a room to do his thing unadorned by the strings and over-production of some of those records made back when Stewart filled arenas, rather than the smaller, folkier venues where he was recorded here.

On Uncorked, Stewart and his musical counterpart Dave Nachmanoff are simply two guys with their acoustic guitars — but together they create a surprisingly big noise. The smaller arrangements sound every bit as rich and full here, in a small setting, as on their studio counterparts, thanks to both a marvelously clear and crisp recording, and even more to just how well the two jell together as guitarists.

And that is really the most delightful surprise here. Although Stewart is known primarily for his songwriting talents, this is as much of a showcase for the guitar as it is for the rich wordplay of his songs. The main disappointment is that once Stewart and Nachmanoff really get going, it's not often clear just who is playing which part because they blend so well together.

"Last Days of The Century," for example, is at first propelled by what I presume to be Nachmanoff playing the bass part, with Stewart (again presumably) playing lead. Before long though, the two of them are ferociously trading solos in a blinding blur with all the deftness of Beck and Page in the Yardbirds, causing the audience to break into spontaneous applause at various points.

On "News from Spain," Nachmanoff plays Rick Wakeman's piano solo from the studio version — an "unenviable task" Stewart jokes — on guitar, and totally nails it.

But lest we forget his songwriting talents, this album also provides a worthy reminder that Al Stewart is one of music's more literate historical storytellers. Song titles from his catalog like "Palace of Versailles" and "Old Admirals" only hint at the rich escape lying within.

At their best, Stewart's songs are like rich tapestries originating from such places as 16th Century European battlefields ("Coldest Winter"). The stories are mostly told in the first person, and in such ways as to actually transport you there. Stewart's voice has also never sounded better.

Many of the songs here will be unfamiliar to more casual fans — an intentional decision by the artists, so there would be no overlap between this and the previous live album. So there's no "Year Of The Cat," "Nostradamus," or "Roads To Moscow". However, for the more devoted fans, Stewart does dig deep enough into the well to pull out chestnuts like "Bedsitter Images" and "Carol."

Whether you are already a fan, or you just love great songs, rich storytelling, and some unexpectedly wicked guitar playing, Uncorked is a wonderful new album from an old friend.