Author: Lee Zimmerman (Page 16 of 20)

Kevin Ayers: What More Can I Say…

After re-emerging this year with the highly lauded The Unfairground, his first new work in well over a decade, England’s ultra-eccentric Kevin Ayers seems to be enjoying a renewed burst of popularity. In recent months there’s been a minor resurgence of everything Ayers, from reissues and compilations to thoughtful examinations of the role he played in the English prog-rock progression. Consequently, it comes as little surprise to see some digging through the vaults, with What More Can I Say… being among more interesting items unearthed of late. Essentially a set of homegrown demos that sat neglected for nearly 40 years, they point the way to some of Ayers’ prime pieces of the early ‘70s. Mostly it’s Ayers only, sketching out his songs on guitar and keyboards, with occasional accompaniment from some of his regular cronies – Mike Oldfield, David Bedford and Robert Wyatt included. All in all, it’s a fascinating insider’s view into the Ayers M.O., one that places the listener in the observer’s chair as the composer crafts his designs, verbally explaining the structure of some songs while improvising others. A couple of the tracks appear winners even early on – the affably strummed “Unfinished” (“I could just play with words all day,” Ayers offers), the triumphant keyboard processional “Crying,” and “Dreaming Doctor” which borrows the avant-garde textured effect of composers Phillip Glass and Terry Riley. Ayers says it all eloquently, and these personal tapes provide the proof. (Reel Recordings)

Kevin Ayers MySpace page

Sixpence None the Richer: The Dawn of Grace

When Sixpence None the Richer’s breakup proved temporary in 2004, it seemed only natural that a holiday album would provide the inevitable impetus to bring them back together. Though the band has been back together for at least a year, The Dawn of Grace is confirmation of the band’s spiritual solidarity, a religious thread that’s been woven into their music since the beginning. Singer Leigh Nash is still the group’s most identifying element, her waif-like vocals imbuing the sweetness in their sound and an angelic presence that’s an apt ingredient when it comes to heralding in the holidays. Here the band sample from both the spiritual and the secular, mixing in the obvious (“Silent Night,” yet another read of Joni Mitchell’s “The River,” now a seasonal standard) with a few pop pieces that tie into the holiday joy (the tropically sway of “Christmas Island,” a gentle and caressing “Christmas for Two”) and pull it all off with equal aplomb. The group’s willowy sound doesn’t infuse any deeper meaning that isn’t gleaned already from the inclusion of the more reverent selections, but as a pleasant aside, The Dawn of Grace is a lovely, if low-cast, bit of seasonal solace. (La Face)

Sixpence None The Richer website page

Kyle Andrews: Real Blasty

Kyle Andrews spins a sound that’s decidedly left of center, a sonic surge marked by giddy melodies, techno-tinged rhythms and an effusive enthusiasm that freely tugs at the parameters. Recorded, produced and played almost entirely under his own aegis, Real Blasty, Andrews’ sophomore set, delivers on all its name implies, an all-out, go-for-broke, no-holds-barred slab of indie invention. Opening track “Sushi” ups the ante from the get-go, an ebullient shout-out that provides perfect incentive for a dalliance on the dance floor. That breathless, kinetic pace is sustained throughout, but it’s especially pervasive on songs like “Polar Bear,” “Tennessee Torture Dream” and “Put Your Hands Up,” the latter a standout by virtue of its elated call to arms. There are occasional moments of reflection as well – the appropriately dubbed “Take it to Heart” being the most notable – but overall, it’s Andrews’ insistent approach that leaves the most emphatic impression, a dizzying collision of rock, racket and weirdness. Next time around Andrews may want to consider reigning himself in, at least to allow his listeners to catch a collective breath. Suffice it to say, Real Blasty is positively explosive.

Kyle Andrews MySpace page

The Korgis: Something About the Korgis – Sound & Vision

Leave it to an astute archival label like Angel Air to take it upon itself to revive a band like the Korgis, a deserving combo that was scarcely appreciated even in their native Great Britain. An offshoot of the equally obscure Stackridge, the trio released four albums in the late ‘70s and actually attained something of a lingering hit, a haunting little gem called “Everybody’s Got to Learn Sometime.” Etched in the great British pop tradition – one that relied on such esteemed forebears as the Kinks, the Hollies and naturally, the Beatles – the band carved its template from lush, effusive melodies, subtly shaded arrangements and the cooing vocals of chief protagonists Andy Davis and James Warren, the Stackridge expatriates who shaped the band’s sound. Something About the Korgis is their fifth offering from Angel Air and their second Korgis compilation, but given the songs’ strong first impression it’s clear the group warrant the additional exposure. Two takes on “Everybody’s Got to Learn Sometime” and a more recent release – the aptly dubbed “Something About the Beatles” – find a place among nineteen selections representing the best of the Korgis catalogue. A bonus DVD featuring an unplugged performance by the reunited trio, archival videos and an illuminating documentary complete the package, making this a must-have for that especially discerning collector who considers him or herself a Korgis completist. Angel Air

The Korgis MySpace page

Rebecca Pidgeon: Behind the Velvet Curtain

Rebecca Pidgeon’s first album in three years portrays more of her sensual, seductive style, one that reflects a Sunday morning sound and a somewhat overcast aura that dissipates only on occasion. Pidgeon, who’s also gained fame for her acting portfolio and the fact she’s married to playwright David Mamet, supplies the soundtrack for the film “Redbelt,” much of which extracted for Behind the Velvet Curtain, but any thematic thread is difficult to discern. In fact, the album is so uniformly low-key that any change in tempo or tone becomes practically non-existent. To her credit, she’s recruited an impressive roster of musicians to back her up – producer/bassist Larry Klein, guitarist Dean Parks, steel guitar player Greg Leisz among them – but Pidgeon’s wispy, willowy sway finds the proceedings rarely rising above a whisper (think Norah Jones at her most nocturnal). The only time Pidgeon and company gather any modicum of am upbeat tick is when they turn up the tempo on, appropriately, “That’s Life, That’s Hollywood” and a somewhat spunky cover of the Beach Boys’ “Wouldn’t It Be Nice.” Otherwise, consider this a rather drowsy digression. (Hot Milk Records)

Rebecca Pidgeon website

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