The Rockologist: Confessions Of A Music Burnaholic

I can't help myself. I love burning music off of the internet. However, it does get me into trouble sometimes.

A couple of years back for example, I loaded my computer up with so much spyware downloading stuff off of peer to peer sites like Limewire and Bearshare (remember them?), that I managed to fry my hard drive and had to buy myself a brand new computer.

So you'd think I would have learned my lesson, right? Au' contrare, grasshopper.

Since that unfortunate incident, I've tried to be more careful. I've limited my downloading to things that friends send me, and to mostly trustworthy sources like Megaupload and Rapidshare.

I also want to set something straight right from the get-go here. I don't "steal" commercially available music. In fact, I actually prefer CDs to MP3 files and the like. A perfect case in point was Radiohead's In Rainbows. Like everybody else, I took advantage of the download option when it was offered (I paid $5. for it).

But this was only because it wasn't being offered on CD at the time. When the album finally was released on CD, I bought it the day it came out. And you know what? It sounded so much better than the MP3 version, it was almost like hearing it for the very first time.

This is why I prefer CDs to MP3s. I do know that the so-called "lossless" formats like flac and MP5 can equal CD quality. But when you are downloading music the standard for now is MP3, and until that changes I doubt very much that I'll be changing my mind.

But anyway, I digress...

The type of music I like to download is that which is commercially unavailable, or what we used to refer to back in the day as bootlegs. If, like me, you are a hardcore Springsteen fan for example, you know that his best live stuff has never been officially released and that there are numerous great radio broadcasts and soundboard recordings from his legendary tours in the seventies and eighties out there that are ripe for the picking.

Winterland 78' or Nassau 1980 anyone? Hey, I can't help it if Springsteen's management or the record company refuses to put these out -- even though they are amazing shows, and there are great recordings of them available out there with the click of a mouse.

So last week, a buddy of mine tipped me off about a site called Quality Boots.

I'm not gonna' reveal the url here, and trust me you don't want to know anyway. On his recommendation, I went there to download a Pink Floyd show I'd been seeking for awhile, where the songs that would eventually show up on the albums Wish You Were Here and Animals were still being worked out in concert under titles like "Raving And Drooling" and "You Gotta Be Crazy."

Anyway, long story short, it happened again.

My attempt to download the precious cargo instead gave me the gift that keeps on giving in the form of some particularly vicious malware. You know, the type that replicates itself all over your screen, and won't let you access anything else. It's kind of like the cyber version of waking up with an STD after that drunken night with the ugly girl you met when it was last call at the bar. You'd think you'd learn your lesson, but of course you never do.

Fortunately, I caught it soon enough this time around that I was able to save my computer -- but it did require a trip to the shop, and a $400. bill at exactly the time I could least afford it. Just color me another victim of the recession and we'll leave it at that, okay?

I was also without my computer for a week, which is not a good thing -- particularly if you are a Blogcritics editor or are looking for a more gainful full-time job. Your friendly neighborhood Rockologist presently falls into both of these categories.

So last night, I got the computer back and I'm happy to report that it's as good as new. But I also couldn't resist getting a new CD burner, and I'll give you just one guess as to the first thing I did once I got everything hooked back up.

Don't blame me. Blame Patti Smith.

After relaxing by kicking back with a few brews and watching a concert DVD of a 1978 Patti Smith concert in Europe, I just couldn't resist surfing the net to see just what was out there in the way of live Patti Smith. Sure enough, I found a great show from the same tour and burned myself a disc of it.

Patti Smith was just an amazing performer back then with her mix of punk-rock attitude and stream of consciousness poetry. I'll never forget when I saw her myself at Seattle's Paramount Theatre in 1978, or the way she knocked me clean on my ass from the opening notes of "Rock And Roll Nigger." She delivered it with all the fire and brimstone of a baptist preacher preaching a rock and roll apocalypse.

To this day it amazes me how Patti Smith can on the one hand deliver a great rock and roll song like that one, and is on the other hand the woman behind the beautifully abstract poetry of something like "Birdland" from her landmark album Horses. I'd marry her were it only possible.

Anyway, that's how it usually starts and this night was no exception.

From there it was on to Springsteen. Since I've got most of the live stuff, my latest mission has been to find the studio outtakes. And damned if I didn't locate the motherlode tonight in the form of Lost Masters, a multiple disc collection that puts the officially released Tracks collection to shame.

Seriously, this thing is a history lesson. There's really cool stuff like "Summer On Signal Hill," an undiscovered E Street Band instrumental gem circa The River, as well as songs in their embryonic stage like "Candys Boy" that later would become -- well, you know.

Then there is a guy like Steven Wilson, who releases so much music with his bands No-Man, Blackfield, Bass Communion, and his main group Porcupine Tree that it's hard to keep track of it all. Wilson is a guy who I am absolutely amazed is not a much bigger star than he is. The guy is not only multi-talented and prolific as all hell -- but he does his thing across multiple genres, from the ambient drone of Bass Communion, to the avant-pop of No-Man, to the prog-metal of Porcupine Tree.

Anyway, in this case, the only thing I found was a great concert I'd not heard yet recorded on the tour behind the last PT album Fear Of A Blank Planet. I'm just finishing that one up right now.

So, like I said, I just can't help myself.

I love burning music off of the internet. Hopefully this time around it wont get me into any more trouble. Live and learn I guess.

Tom Waits For No One


Music DVD Review: Tom Waits - Romeo Bleeding: Live from Austin

If the hallmark of a great songwriter lies in the ability to transport you into the places and the lives of the stories he tells, then Tom Waits has few equals.

A couple of weeks ago, I happened across a broadcast of Tom Waits Big Time concert on the cable network Ovation.

This is a brilliant concert movie that was filmed during Tom Waits tour behind the album Frank's Wild Years. Here Waits is captured somewhere in between the down on his luck, gravelly-voiced skid row persona of his early years, and the brilliant, more multi-faceted music that was still to come. Big Time is one of those concert movies originally released on VHS, long since out of print, that is absolutely screaming out for a DVD release.

In the meantime, thank God for DVRs.

Anyway, seeing this concert sent me scrambling to ebay and all the usual places searching for a copy on DVD to no avail. But the search was not a complete loss, as I did discover that a rare Tom Waits concert DVD -- though not from the same era -- has in fact been recently released.

Romeo Bleeding: Live from Austin is a surprisingly well done DVD document from a concert that, at least best as I can surmise, was recorded during Tom Waits tour behind his brilliant 1976 album Small Change.

The very first time I saw Tom Waits in concert was on this very tour.

The promoters marketed it as a Small Change concert (clever, huh?) with a price of $2.98 a ticket. And I remember being absolutely transfixed by what I saw.

Waits, who sat behind a piano for most of the concert, was mainly backed a small jazz trio. He chain smoked throughout the concert, and occasionally stepped out from behind his piano to tell these amazing stories about things like the infamous Chelsea Hotel in New York, and characters like a guy named "Small Change," who got "rained on with his own thirty eight."

It was just amazing shit.

Afterwords, me and my friend met Tom Waits at the backstage door at Seattle's Paramount Theatre. My buddy Dave -- a hardcore Waits Fan -- extended his hand and said "it's an honor to meet you sir." And Tom Waits, totally in character, simply replied. "no sir, the honor is all mine."

Romeo Bleeding: Live from Austin is a better document of this period than it has any right to be. It begins with Waits chain-smoking behind a pair of Union 76 gas pumps, while a lone trumpet sounds the lonely notes of "Burma Shave."

From there, Waits is usually behind the piano, croaking his way through the seedy backstreets of songs like "Romeo Is Bleeding" and "Christmas Cards From A Hooker In Minneapolis" (with a refrain of "Silent Night" thrown into the mix for good measure).

There are concerts, and there are concerts.

But there are precious few artists that place you directly into the lives of the characters behind the stories they tell the way that Tom Waits does. As an artist, Waits has long since gone way beyond the skid row persona of his Small Change years. The audio and the video -- all things considered -- are, surprisingly, also excellent.

This DVD took me right back. Fucking brilliant.

On Internet Music Journalism And The Character Of My Content

In Seattle this week, we lost a local journalism institution when the Seattle Post-Intelligencer stopped the presses for good. The P-I was one of our two daily newspapers, and the other one -- the Seattle Times -- is also reportedly in financial trouble.

I knew the rock critics at both papers.

Patrick MacDonald -- wily old veteran that he was -- got out a few months ago when he announced his retirement from the Times after decades of covering everyone from Hendrix to Nirvana. MacDonald no doubt smelled the writing on the wall, and decided to get out while the getting was good.

As for Gene Stout at the P-I -- well, I'm not sure what ol' Gene is gonna' do.

I always liked Gene though.

When I was working in the record business in L.A., he once stayed at my apartment in Burbank, and we went to see a comedy show featuring the guy who used to play the bartender on the Love Boat.
Gene himself was always a genuinely likable and funny guy. He used to refer to beer for example as a "meal in a mug."

Definitely my kind of guy.

Word is that Gene's old paper the P-I will be trying things out as an exclusively online publication. And this, to be honest, has really got me worried on a couple of fronts. You see, much as I love the internet -- and don't get me wrong, I do love the internet -- I have also seen the damage it has done to two institutions I happen to love very much -- music and journalism.

It doesn't take a genius to see what the internet has done to the music business. While downloading has made music instantly accessible to everyone -- and in the process of doing so turned every old-school record industry marketing apparatus on its ear -- it has also done so at the expense of both sound quality and, subsequently, artistic vitality.

If MP3s and the like blew up that whole music as commerce dinosaur for good, they did so at considerable expense. Unless I'm mistaken here, the only really viable casualties have been the independent record stores and record labels once run by actual music guys. These days, the music business is being largely run out of the corporate boardrooms of megalithic companies that give less a shit about music than the suits at Sony or Warner ever did.

The result? To be right honest, I'm sick of this shit. Record store closures. WalMart Deals. Ticket prices that all but shutout the youngest and least well off fans. Artists reluctant to experiment with the infinite possibilities of the recording studio -- since the final product will likely only be heard on thumbnail sized speakers anyway, if at all. Don't expect any future Dark Side Of The Moon, Born To Run, or OK Computer in such an environment.

It doesn't take a genius to see what's happening. But this article isn't about that. This is about that other victim of progress -- journalism. Specifically, it's about music journalism.

Years before I ever embraced the whole concept of "blogging," I was a music journalist. I plied my trade at a number of publications -- most often freelancing articles whenever and wherever I could. But I cut my teeth at a Seattle paper called The Rocket.

When my editors there used to send me back for rewrite after rewrite of something as simple as a review of the new album by Sir Mix-A-Lot, it used to really piss me off too. Guys like Charley Cross and Grant Alden were tough as nails, but they were right in doing so. They not only made me a better writer, they also upheld a journalistic standard. Things like journalistic credibility, and the overall vision of the publication mattered back then.

If it was shit, or if it wasn't relevant, we either called it as such or we just didn't review it at all. The quality of the writing also had to pass a strenuous standard of quality. Our readers didn't always agree with us as a result. We we're called pretentious, elitist snobs and worse. But they did trust us.

Somewhere in the nineties, this started to change.

The thing I most started to notice was a laziness as college students writing for free music wrote reviews that read more like press releases. Because who wants to piss off a record company or publicist giving you all that free music, right? As long as the tap is running, why shut off the spicket?

Then there was the new elitism. The more obscure the band, and the less people have heard of them, the better. Which led us to the flavor of the minute, attention-span deprivation we see as being the hallmarks of both music journalism, and the music industry itself today. And people wonder why the music biz is in the dumper.

Which brings us to the internet.

With journalism, as with just about everything else, anything goes on the internet, right?
This is all fine and good when it comes to blogs. If Joe Blow wants to start Joe Blow's blog to talk about everything from his shitty date last night, to his obsession with comic books for an audience of his mom and his buddies, that's fine. In fact, God bless him for having the outlet to do so.

Unfortunately, this lack of any basic journalism 101 class standard has spread to the larger websites as well. What used to be called "writing" is now referred to as "content."

"Content" is a lot like what they used to call "product" in the old school music industry. God, I used to hate the word "product" back then. The record companies were all about pushing out as much product as possible. Didn't matter if it was the Ramones or Right Said Fred, as long as it got out there.

And it is much the same with internet journalism today. Fact checks? Truth? Fiction? Sources? Credibility? Forget about it. It's all about "content." And in the world of internet "journalism," it's a game of more is better, where quantity trumps quality every single time.

Do the incisive and thoughtful pieces still get through? Sure they do. You're reading one right now. But searching for that ever elusive needle in the greater internet haystack of articles where only the most basic standards of grammar are often applied -- if they are at all -- can be a challenge at best.

What exactly is the standard for internet music journalism today? Pitchfork? Blogcritics?

All I know is I miss Lester Bangs. And that we sure could use him now.

Willie Nelson Gets Naked And "De-Produces" Nashville

Music Review: Willie Nelson - Naked Willie

Willie Nelson is a national treasure. But the guy is also so prolific that it can sometimes be a little hard to keep up with all the music that comes out bearing his name.

This has been particularly true in the past year as the icon's 75th birthday spawned numerous retrospectives and compilations, including the 30th Anniversary Legacy edition of Stardust and the four-disc career retrospective One Hell Of A Ride.

Naked Willie is yet another of these compilations, but this one has a unique twist. In much the same manner that the "naked" version of the Beatles Let It Be deconstructed Phil Spector's over-production of that album, Naked Willie strips away the more overdone aspects of some of the best songs from Nelson's years in the sixties and early seventies on the RCA label.

The result is an album where Nelson's often overlooked work during those years is able to be viewed in a new, far more refreshing light. Whereas the results of the Beatles Let It Be...Naked experiment are somewhat debatable -- a judgment no doubt influenced by decades of growing up with those songs as we already knew and loved them -- there is no such room for debate with Naked Willie. Nelson and longtime harmonica player Mickey Raphael have simply done one hell of a job "de-producing" these songs.

And by "de-producing," we mean stripping away all of the strings, horns, and generally overproduced nonsense that constituted what was then known as the "Nashville Sound."

Country music in the sixties was too often characterized by these types of recordings. The producers would crank out the records with all of the efficiency -- but none of the soul -- of a hit-making Tin Pan Alley style machine. From Johnny Cash on down, virtually no country artist was immune to the Nashville treatment. At least not if they wanted to enjoy a successful career.

The main problem, particularly in the case of a great songwriter like Willie Nelson, was that the resulting records were often virtually indistinguishable from one another. Not only did the song itself often get hopelessly lost in all those layers of orchestration -- it would also often lose its own sense of meaning or identity.

The first thing you notice on Naked Willie is how much clearer and cleaner these new versions sound. On the original "Following Me Around," for example, the Mexican mariachi-sounding horn was pleasant sounding enough, even if it was in a corny sort of way. But when it's removed from the equation on Naked Willie everything else sounds so much fuller. Willie's voice takes on a much deeper timbre, and the guitar and piano are also that much crisper sounding.

"The Ghost" likewise becomes something completely new here. Where the original finds Willie's voice drenched in reverb and strings, it becomes much more pronounced here when moved to the forefront of the mix. You can actually make out the words, for one thing. "Happiness Lives Next Door" also becomes a more satisfying listening experience with the strings removed, and Willie's voice and guitar mixed upfront. The song takes on a new warmth as cozy as a crackling fire here.

On "The Party's Over," the tempo even seems to pick up a notch without the orchestration. The backup vocals and strings are also not missed on "I Let My Mind Wander," where its kind of nice to actually hear the gently strummed guitar for a change.

You might likewise think a gospel standard like "Laying My Burdens Down" was tailor-made for its original arrangement with the churchy sounding backing vocals. Yet when they are removed, you start to hear the soul in Willie's voice for the very first time. The simple, stripped-down arrangement with piano, bass, and jazzy drum brushes just makes more sense.

Even a classic like "Sunday Morning Coming Down" benefits from the de-production. Minus the strings, you can feel the lyrics about the morning after a rough night of beer, cigarettes, and song a lot better than on the original. The lyrics become clearer too, since the elevator strings never exactly evoked the song lyrics' visions of a roughneck bar.

Naked Willie is that rarest case where an artist reimagining his work actually does -- work that is. In un-producing the original recordings, it also reveals that Willie Nelson was writing world-class songs long before Red Headed Stranger, even if it didn't always show up in the way that those records were made.

Naked Willie will be in stores this Tuesday March 17.

WWE Wrestler Andrew "Test" Martin Dead At 33

Andrew Martin, who wrestled for WWE and ECW as Test, was found dead last night in his apartment by police in Tampa, Florida. Details regarding Martin's death were sketchy as this article was being written, but police did rule out foul play. Martin was just days away from celebrating his 34th birthday, which once again is sure to raise the usual questions people ask when professional wrestlers die so young.

Martin had been released by World Wrestling Entertainment after failing a drug test in 2007, and had most recently been wrestling in Japan and Europe. In interviews however, Test insisted that he requested the release (WWE drug policy normally suspends its performers after a first offense). As more information is released, hopefully a clearer picture will emerge.

In the meantime, Test becomes the latest of a long list of wrestlers from Rick Rude to Eddie Guerrero to die at a young age under what appears at best to be mysterious circumstances. According to published reports, police were called to check on Martin when a neighbor noticed that he had been sitting, but not moving, close to a window for some time.

As Test, Andrew Martin was never a household name on the level of a Hulk Hogan or Ric Flair, but he did have a couple of memorable runs. Martin arrived in WWE in the late nineties during a television broadcast where Motley Crue were playing live on the show. In the original storyline, he was supposed to be a roadie for the band, although in typical wrestling fashion, this may or may not have been actually true. Soon, he was aligned with Vince McMahon's "evil promoter" character Mr. McMahon as a heel -- a role he seemed to play very well, and one which he would return to throughout his career.

But in his most famous storyline, Test turned babyface to romance McMahon's daughter Stephanie, who then turned heel on him to marry the wrestler Triple H (a storyline which also ended up playing out in real life).

Following this story, Test's character seemed to lose some of its luster as he fell into the dreaded treadmill of the WWE midcard. As a midcarder, he turned from babyface to heel numerous times. For a time he was aligned with then real-life girlfriend and wrestling personality Stacy Kiebler in an embarrasingly bad angle centered around Test's "Testicles."

From there, he would move to mostly forgettable feuds with the Undertaker and others. Most recently, Test was in McMahon's new version of ECW (Extreme Championship Wrestling) where once again he seemed on the verge of a legitimate push, only to once again see it fizzle out. He also had a brief run in WWE rival TNA (Total Nonstop Action) as "The Punisher" where he was involved in an angle with their stars Sting, Christian Cage, and AJ Styles. However, TNA did not offer him a contract.

Recent girlfriend Barbara Blank (who wrestles in WWE as Kelly Kelly) posted the following words about her friend Andrew Martin on her MySpace page:

"You were my world my best friend the one i always ran to u were always there for me..what happened to our plan...Why did god take u away from me...my heart is always with u and u only..I know your in heaven watching over me now my angel..."

Andrew "Test" Martin is dead at 33.

Remembering U2 at The 1983 US Festival

Earlier tonight, I met my parents as I often do on Friday night for dinner at the local pizza place. And, as is equally often the case, they were a few minutes late -- allowing me a chance to browse through the bins at the little record shop a few doors down that sells bootleg DVDs.

It's not my favorite record shop in the neighborhood or anything. But every once in awhile they'll have a gem sitting there ripe for the picking -- and tonight was just such an occasion. Because sitting there in the middle of the bootleg concert DVDs, was a copy of U2's performance at the 1983 US Festival.

Be still my beating heart, I thought to myself -- because you see, I was actually there.

It was my second time seeing U2. The first was actually the night before in Seattle, but I had to cut that one short in order to make my plane to California to get to -- you guessed it -- the US Festival. This was my very first honest to God rock festival. And if there ever was a final rite of passage for a rock geek like me who came up in the sixties and seventies, by God this was it.

As a kid, I'd read the stories. And I'd seen the movies. Sly and the Family Stone and Santana at Woodstock. Janis and Jimi at Monterrey. Oh yeah, and lots of naked hippies taking lots of drugs and wallowing about in the mud. But that wasn't what interested me most -- it was the music, and the fact that even as a pre-teen I knew that history was often made at these things.

I wanted to be there. Dammit I wanted to be there. But as a thirteen year old pre-teen living in Hawaii, my parents simply weren't having it. It was all I could do to let them even allow me to go to a Jefferson Airplane concert back then (accompanied by my grandma).

There was no way I'd be going to the 1969 rock festival at Diamond Head (where Carlos Santana and Buddy Miles ended up recording a live album).

Flash forward to 1983.

As a then twenty something year old record store manager in Tacoma, Washington, I was free at last, free at last! And come hell or high water, as soon as I heard about it, I was going to the US Festival at Glen Helen Park in San Bernadino County, Southern California.

The setup was perfect too. A former girlfriend had a place we could stay at in Hermosa Beach, CA -- as long as she could tag along. I also convinced a record store customer/buddy of mine to make the trip with me. Rock N' Roll history here we come.

And boy, did watching the video of U2's performance at the US Festival take me back to that time tonight.

I remembered U2's performance quite well anyway as a standout among my three days at the US Festival of seeing everyone from The Clash and The Stray Cats (who headlined what was billed as "New Wave Day") to The Pretenders, David Bowie -- and of course, U2.

There was a lot of great music that year. From Bowie's Lets Dance and the Police's Synchronicity, to Echo And The Bunnymen's Porcupine and U2's own War.

Watching U2 at the US festival on DVD tonight -- some twenty five years and counting from the fact -- a lot of memories came flooding back for sure.

I knew right then that these guys were much more than just another really good rock band. As good as a lot of the other bands that I saw that weekend were, I knew instantly that U2 was going to outlast them all, and go on to be one of the truly great ones. Seeing U2 that weekend was for me, my "Janis at Monterrey" moment.

You can watch U2 video from that same 1983 tour behind the album War -- most notably the Live At Red Rocks DVD -- but nothing beats this.

Bono in particular knew he was on a potentially history making stage here before an audience of some 300,000 people in the California desert that weekend. The memory that sticks most in my own mind is when he risked certain death by climbing the sky-high scaffolding to to hoist the white flag of surrender during "Electric Co." But damned if he didn't do it anyway.



That was a great one that really sticks out. But the US Festival is a memory I will never forget for lots of other reasons.

Watching the U2 DVD tonight, a lot of those came flooding back too. I got out my old pictures from the event -- which for some odd reason are all the size of a postage stamp -- and saw I guy I barely recognized, long haired and proudly bare-chested with only the slightest hints of a beer gut. Damn, whatever happened to that stud-muffin?

I also have memories of staying at that ex-girlfriends house in Hermosa Beach, with another ex-boyfriend who wouldn't take no for an answer passed out in the backyard -- knee deep in beer bottles and dogshit. We had to force feed him burgers we were so afraid for his health -- but that's another story.

What I mainly remember is the music.

The Stray Cats turned a crowd of 300,000 into a gigantic sock hop. I got to see Springsteen's guitarist Little Steven fronting the Disciples of Soul in a rare solo gig. And I got to see the Clash break up onstage, as Joe Strummer berated the crowd for selling out by attending the Apple sponsored US Festival, while Mick Jones just wanted to play out the gig. U2 even referenced this in their performance by saying "nobody twisted our arms to be here."

More than anything though, I remember the 1983 US Festival as a unique snapshot in time where it seemed like anything was possible. When you look back on it now, a lot of it seems silly. Bono had his mullet, and to be perfectly honest I did too. Hell, everybody did back then.

But I'll tell ya' what -- looking back at the way this hungry young band was so ready to grab that big brass ring reminds me a lot of not only a younger, more innocent time, but also haunts me in a lot of ways in regards to opportunities missed.

I know it's not possible now, but I'd go back there in a second if only I could. At least U2 got their ring.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some leftover pizza to finish...

Beck, Clapton And Friends Burn The House Down On Great New DVD

Music DVD Review: Jeff Beck - performing this week...live at Ronnie Scott's

Last fall, Eagle Rock released performing this week...live at Ronnie Scott's, a great live CD from British guitar legend Jeff Beck captured during a week-long residency at the London jazz club.

As good as that CD was, it also provided just a brief enough snapshot of those performances to leave you hungry and wanting more -- especially since the stuff left off the CD included a rare jam with fellow guitar legend Eric Clapton. And since Eagle Rock is best known for having a great track record producing live concert DVDs, there just had to be one of those on the way...right?

Fortunately the answer to that question turned out to be yes.

The DVD and Blu-ray editions of Beck's week at Ronnie's arrive in stores March 31, just in time for his induction into the Rock 'N' Roll Hall of Fame. And man, is this some great stuff. For starters, the DVD is about twice as long as the CD, clocking in at some three hours when you figure in the bonus interviews with both the band and with Beck himself.

But what makes this such a keeper is the obvious care that went into both the video and audio presented here. The 5.1 mix addresses and fixes some of the problems with the CD with a more evened-out sound that showcases Beck's great band as much as it does the man himself. 22 year old female bass prodigy Tal Wilkenfeld shines, in particular, but drummer Vinnie Colaiuta and keyboardist Jason Rebello are also given an ample share of the spotlight. Colaiuta looks and sounds particularly impressive on a great cover of Billy Cobham's "Stratus."



But there is equal care given to the video half of the equation here.

You get lots of great shots of the band, and the chemistry between them becomes apparent in ways that the CD only hints at. Beck, a guy who isn't exactly known for his even temperament, is seen grinning like a Cheshire cat throughout, and beaming like a proud dad whenever Wilkenfeld takes a bass solo -- which fortunately happens often here. For her own part, Wilkenfeld returns Beck's approval with the wide-eyed grin of a student who knows she's done the master proud.



Best of all though, the camera zooms in on Beck's guitar often, affording the viewer a rare glimpse of those amazing fingering techniques and even a few of those nifty tricks on the trusty whammy bar. On his version of "Goodbye Pork Pie Hat," Beck plays like a house o' fire, and the camera catches every note in some great closeup shots. Towards the end, you can also see Robert Plant displaying his approval from the audience.

The other highlights here include tracks with guest vocalists Imogen Heap and Joss Stone. Heap sounds great on her song "Blanket," as well as on a cover of the blues standard "Rollin' And Tumblin'" that appears towards the end of the DVD. Joss Stone also turns in a fine, if slightly pedestrian version of "People Get Ready," taking Rod Stewart's place on vocals for the Beck treatment of the Curtis Mayfield tune.

For his version of Lennon & McCartney's "A Day In The Life," Beck allows his guitar to do the singing, turning the Beatles classic into a plaintive cry during the Lennon parts, and then into a ferocious-sounding wail during the more symphonic portions of the song. Jimmy Page can be seen in the audience in the clip below, which leads me to wonder why he didn't join in during the jam with Eric Clapton that was still to come.



That Clapton jam is unquestionably a highlight, too.

The two former Yardbirds members (Beck replaced Clapton in the legendary Sixties rock group) trade licks note for note on a version of Willie Dixon's "You Need Love" -- a song that Dixon needs to collect some royalties from Page and Plant for, by the way. The song bares more than a striking resemblance to Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love." Maybe that's why Page sat the jam out.

Regardless, Beck and Clapton clearly have a great time, and burn the house down in doing so. Clapton in particular hasn't sounded this loose since his Cream days. As the show draws to a close, Beck thanks the crowd, calling his week at Ronnie's "the best of my life." The two guitar greats apparently had such a great time, that there are now rumblings of a Clapton/Beck joint tour in the works.



This is a top notch concert DVD. My only complaint here is that the DVD extras do not include the Beck rockabilly set with the Big Town Playboys that shows up as one of the extras on Blu-ray. One more reason to get one of those fancy-pants players, I guess.

Jeff Beck's performing this week...live at Ronnie Scott's comes out in both DVD and Blu-ray formats on March 31.

New U2: Maybe I Just Think Too Much

Music Review: U2 - No Line On The Horizon

So I'm just gonna' be straight up honest here from the get-go, and say that I've got mixed feelings about this album. But then, I've had mixed feelings about U2 for a long time now.

Personally, I've just had a really difficult time reconciling all of the earnestness of Bono's efforts as a truly world-class altruist and politician -- not to mention his lyrics -- with his apparent megalomania and his messiah complex. Glad-handling with presidents and popes aside, I've just always found it a bit tough to really believe in the idea of a streetwise rock and roll savior in wraparound sunglasses, and just lately dark eye-shadow, okay?

I guess it's that whole Jesus thing.

That said, No Line On The Horizon is a damn good album -- though not necessarily the truly great entry in the U2 canon that some have been making it out to be. I'll give U2 credit for one thing, and that is the fact that they continue to make really great rock music in the old fashioned sense that it used to be made -- especially at this late point in their career. Unlike so many of their contemporaries, they continue to be relevant, and you simply can't dismiss that.

The reason this is a really good -- just not quite great -- U2 album, is because despite several stops (Pop) and starts (All You Can't Leave Behind) over the band's career this past decade or so, they remain smart enough to know what works. Which is also where the problem here lies. Listening to tracks like "Magnificent" and "Breathe," you get the feeling that U2 have become so good at this, that they could do it in their sleep.

Not that this a bad thing.

Those tracks work precisely because U2 still know how to craft great three or four minute anthemic rock songs at a time when few others do -- especially when they've been around as long as these guys have. The elements are all there. Edge still has one of the most distinctive guitar sounds in rock, and it is wisely mixed way up front here. Bassist Adam Clayton is as rock steady as ever, and Larry Mullen remains of rock's most underrated drummers.

But there is still a paint by numbers feeling here.

As good as this record this -- and make no mistake, No Line On The Horizon is a damned good record -- there is an inescapable feeling of calculation here. Which for me anyway, has always been sort of the unspoken problem with U2. For me, they have always been a band far too willing to shift with the wind.

When a departure like Pop seems to be called for, they deliver it. And when a "return to form" like All That You Can't Leave Behind is needed, they can likewise be counted on.

This is my main problem with No Line On The Horizon.

As good as it sounds blasting from the car stereo or the Bose speakers at home -- and make no mistake, this album is meant to be cranked up real loud -- it still sounds more like the collection of great U2 songs we know these guys can deliver on a dime, than the sort of bold new artistic breakthrough we were led to believe was coming as recently as last fall. And that's why I refuse to buy into all of the hype about this being the best U2 record since Achtung Baby!, Joshua Tree, or (fill in the blank here).

Then again, maybe I just think too much.

After all, those supposedly bold new experimental new songs like "Winter" that were left off of this album are supposed to be coming this fall on a companion piece said to be called Songs Of Ascent.

Oooh...lofty sounding title there, huh?

The bottom line is that U2 do what they do very well on No Line On The Horizon. No complaints there. I'm sure the stadium tour will do huge business, despite the $250. price for the top seats (that is, unless you can snag the budget-priced $55. field ticket next to the stage).

I give U2 all due credit just for the fact that they can continue to make records this good. But for all of Bono's messianic pretensions, this is definitively not anything that is going to change the game of how rock and roll masterpieces are made. That said, it still kicks more ass than it really has any right to. And I suspect it will grow on me considerably the more I listen to it.

Maybe I just set too high a standard when it comes to these guys. And yes, I probably do think too much.

Wilco's Nels Kline Is Fearless On His Solo Album Coward

Music Review: Nels Cline - Coward

I first became aware of Nels Cline when I went to see Wilco a few summers ago as they were touring behind the Sky Blue Sky album. I'd already heard of Cline, mostly through reviews by some of my fellow Blogcritics who have this particular thing for oddball instrumental music and avant-jazz. But I wasn't aware he'd joined Wilco.

Having already seen Wilco a few times previous, you can imagine my shock at the insane, dissonant-sounding guitar I heard this time around, and how it added this amazing new dimension to Wilco's sound. Not long after, I picked up Wilco's Sky Blue Sky, and again marveled at how the guitar on songs like "Impossible Germany" seemed to complete this band like water filling an empty glass.

And that is how I was introduced to Nels Cline.

Nels Cline is one of the few guys out there who can truly live up to the title "guitarist's guitarist," and he proves it in spades on his new solo album Coward. This is not easy listening, nor is it intended to be. In fact, the music here is at times downright difficult sounding -- unless you're a very accomplished musician that is. But it is also strangely captivating.

What Cline does on Coward is, in fact, about as far removed from the alt-country vibe of Jeff Tweedy's songs with Wilco as it gets. But it is no less impressive. This is an instrumental album where Cline veers from the sort of quiet, poetic acoustic guitar pieces that would be right at home on an album by say, Alex DeGrassi, to the experimental avant-jazz you might find on the ECM label, to outright noise.

Cline plays all the instruments, which in fairness are acoustic and (occasionally) electric guitars most of the time. But they also include all manner of noise and effect-making gadgets with names like zither things, kaossilator, and something called the quintronics drum buddy.

The result is a record that is not so much one to be casually listened to, as it is one to be almost studied. The music alternates between the soothing and the disturbing, but is nearly always interesting and at times downright intoxicating. Some songs, like "Prayer Wheel," have a quiet, almost meditative quality to them. Others, like "Thurston County," which was apparently inspired by Sonic Youth's Thurston Moore seem to be more about exploring the edges of counterpoint and layered noise.

On the eighteen-minute opus, "Rod Poole's Gradual Ascent To Heaven," Cline brings together all of these things at once. Here he veers back and forth between the sort of upper-scale harmonics that bring someone like Yes' Steve Howe to mind, and a layered cacophonous wash of sounds played on everything from backward-masked sounding ukeleles and off-tuned Turkish 12-string guitars, to the aforementioned zither things. My only real complaint with this track is the numerous starts and stops.

Things quiet down again on the ECM acoustic-sounding "The Divine Homegirl," which is dedicated to Carla B (Bley, I'm assuming). With "X Change(s)" it's back to the off-tuned harmonics, this time played with blinding speed.

The album ends with "Onan Suite," another seventeen-minute epic where Cline once again explores the limits of his instrument in a six-part series filled with peaks and valleys of layered ambient noise and dissonant effects. This is also the payoff for fans who came to this particular party by way of Wilco, as Cline finally straps on the electric and cranks things up with some absolutely sick-sounding shit.

On an initial listening, I like this record a lot. But listening to all 72 minutes of it in a single sitting requires a lot of patience. It's not the sort of thing I'd recommend for casual music fans. But it leaves no doubt that Cline is a virtuoso guitarist who has a consummate musician's sort of total understanding of his instrument -- which he explores to its outermost limits here.

Reflections On The Career of That Nash Guy From CSNY

Music Review: Graham Nash - Reflections (Boxed Set)

Talk about complete.

If the idea of a three-disc anthology compiling all of Graham Nash's music over the years might have seemed an overly ambitious one, the release of Reflections effectively shoots down any such notion.

It's always been sort of easy to overlook Nash though. Despite the fact that his is that high voice you hear most prominently on all of those CSN and CSNY harmonies -- and that he wrote or co-wrote many of their best-known hits -- just look who he's surrounded by. When you hitch your career wagon to guys like David Crosby, Stephen Stills, and Neil Young it can be very easy to be overlooked. That's why this 64-song, three-disc set is such a surprise on an initial listen. You always knew Nash wrote a fair amount of all those great songs -- but who knew there were this many of them?

Reflections chronicles Nash's career from the early sixties to the present in chronological order, beginning with the Hollies, and ending with "In Your Name," a previously unreleased song recorded last fall. Those are the bookends of this set. But most of what you'll find here represents the work Nash has done with his best known and most important band, as in the various incarnations of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.

For those who haven't followed Nash's career, it can all be a little confusing since this means you get tracks from CSN, CSNY, and the numerous duo recordings he did with David Crosby as Crosby/Nash. But for those who own any of the recordings by Crosby, Stills, Nash, Young and whoever, or even the CSN box set, the idea of another retrospective box might also seem to be a bit redundant. Reflections likewise avoids this trap by including no less than 32 alternate mixes or otherwise previously unreleased tracks. That's roughly half of what's here, making this an essential release for all of you completists out there

As interesting as some of the previously unreleased material here is -- songs like "Behind The Shades" (written for Roy Orbison) as well as previously unheard CSN tracks like "Lonely Man' -- the real joy of listening to Reflections lies in the rediscovery of all of the great Nash songs you already know. Not to mention the realization that there are so many of them.

From the Hollies you've got "Carrie Anne," "King Midas in Reverse," and "On A Carousel," all appearing here in their original mono mixes for the singles. From CSN there's alternate mixes of "Teach Your Children" and "Cathedral," as well as the more familiar "Marrakesh Express," "Our House," and "Just A Song Before I Go." The Crosby/Nash collaboration is represented by songs like "Immigration Man," "Wind On The Water," and "To The Last Whale." Nash's solo work is also given ample space including both lesser known songs, as well as the hits like "Chicago (We Can Change The World)."

Rhino also gets kudos for the packaging here. Reflections comes in a box made to look like one of those dusty old hardbound books you might find gathering dust on a library shelf, which gives the package a very classy look. Inside there is a book full of great pictures, and personal annotations from Nash on each and every song here. Did you know for example that the Crosby/Nash song "Mutiny" was written after Neil Young walked out (or rather flew off) on a session for one of the many scuttled CSNY reunions over the years? Neither did I.

For all of the great stuff that is here however, an anthology this complete is not going to come without some filler. To that effect, latter-day CSNY albums like the forgettable American Dream probably occupy more space than they should.

Overall however, Reflections is both satisfying and surprising for much the same reason. There's just way more great music here than you would have ever thought possible from that guy with the highest voice on all those records by Crosby, Stills, Nash and occasionally Young. Reflections is a welcome reminder of that, and a fitting career retrospective.