Author: Lee Zimmerman (Page 17 of 20)

Thea Gilmore: Liejacker

You would think that the final word in terms of singer/songwriter types was uttered in the ‘60s and ‘70s, given that that’s the era that birthed such visionaries like Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, James Taylor, Jackson Browne and their like-minded brethren. Then along comes an artist like Thea Gilmore, who proves herself more than able to reach that bar. In the past ten years or so, she’s notched up repeated successes on her ascent to the upper ranks of contemporary British singer/songwriters, and if Liejacker doesn’t quite rank as the absolute masterpiece of, say, Blue or Blood on the Tracks , it does impress with its array of alluring, caressing melodies and enough hooks to fill a fashion warehouse. Most artists would be content to be able to write songs that would make Gilmore’s “good” stack – and there are plenty of those here – but few could match such instantly indelible offerings as “Come Up With Me” or “Rosie,” two of the more infectious efforts this album has to offer. The former boasts the kind a catchy chorus that will likely never to wear thin even after repeated listens, while the latter comes across as a gentle ramble, its folk-like caress reaffirming Gilmore’s natural penchant for merging music and meditation. Gilmore’s got the goods, and with Liejacker she ups her ante considerably. (Rykodisc)

Thea Gilmore MySpace page

Steve Cropper & Felix Cavaliere: Nudge It Up a Notch

Add all the right elements and you’ve got an effective formula…right? Especially when the combination includes guitarist Steve Cropper, singer/keyboard player Felix Cavaliere and a set list that mines the old Stax sound. Certainly you won’t find more impressive résumés – Cropper helped helm Booker T and the MGs, backed up Otis Redding and the Blues Brothers and wrote such soul standards as “Dock of the Bay” and “In the Midnight Hour.” Cavaliere, as the voice of the Rascals – Young and otherwise – literally defined the concept of blue-eyed R&B. Yet for all its promise, Nudge It Up a Notch doesn’t quite live up to its title. Boasting all originals, including a handful of instrumentals, it offers an air of authenticity, but without the credence that implies conviction. Cropper remains a singular guitarist and Cavaliere clearly possesses one of the most emotive voices of all time, but these new songs pack neither the fire nor the magic of the material they’re emulating. Back in the day, “One of Those Days” and “If It Wasn’t For Loving You” might have fit the formula, but now they represent a recycled sound that long ago was played to perfection.

Ultimately it’s not surprising that Nudge It Up a Notch doesn’t fare better. After all, these songs recall templates that have been indelibly etched, making any attempt to raise that bar a daunting challenge at best. But where Solomon Burke, Mavis Staples and Al Green recently rekindled old glories with albums that moved them forward, Cropper and Cavaliere seem content to glance backwards and retrace well-trod terrain. Although an admirable attempt, it lacks a necessary quotient when it comes to daring and distinction.

Steve Cropper MySpace page

Andy Bopp: This Guitar Kills Singer Songwriters

To paraphrase an old expression, this Bopp apparently never drops. Taking leave of his day job at the helm of the Myracle Brah, and his sometime side project Love Nut, Andy Bopp ups the ante on multi-tasking via a solo sojourn ironically dubbed This Guitar Kills Singer Songwriters. The result is a 12-song set that sounds more like a batch of demos, all sung solo but with earnest and engaging intent. Fleshed out, the tunes would find a fit with his usual power pop motif, but stripped to their essence, they draw distinct similarities to early Todd Rundgren, Jason Falkner and the Posies’ Jon Auer, both in amplitude and attitude. Like them, Bopp tends to dwell on heartfelt platitudes and downcast emotions, especially as evidenced by the despairing “Broken,” a wistful “If You Go Away” and the lo-fi pair “Good Day to the Night” and “Hearts of Fire.” Indeed, the high standard Bopp sets as a singer/songwriter should dissuade this guitar from engaging in any malicious mayhem. (Rainbow Quartz 2008)

Andy Bopp MySpace page

Mark Geary: Opium

Born in Ireland but a New York City transplant since 1992, Mark Geary has quietly worked below the radar while fashioning an eerily hypnotic musical motif. There’s always been something both confessional and contemplative about his material, a shadowy aura that casts him at a distance. With Opium, his fourth album, Geary takes steps to remedy that elusive stance, thanks to a set of songs that’s beautifully beguiling in its sensual, seductive appeal. The music is framed with his usual hushed ambiance, but it finds its footing in muted tones, plaintive vocals, gentle entreaties and wistful sentiments that soar with a quiet resolve. The delicately percolating rhythms of “See-Saw (Houpacka),” the kinetic urgency of “Not on Your Life” and the easy shuffle of “Tuesday” ensure a steady foundation rather than an aimless drift and an array of organic instruments – acoustic guitars, violins, clarinet, flute and piano – combine to create some lovely soundscapes. Ultimately, this Opium proves as addicting its title might imply. Sonablast Records

Mark Geary MySpace page

Murry Hammond: I Don’t know Where I’m Going but I’m On My Way

It stands to reason that when the bass player of a successful band opts to make a solo album, he’d choose not to compete with his day job. So you won’t find Murry Hammond following the lead of his longtime collaborator Rhett Miller and recording a solo set that suggests his regular gig with the Old 97s is a superfluous sideline. Despite its exhaustive title, I Don’t know Where I’m Going but I’m On My Way offers a rootsy respite, one that shares its foundation with the Old 97s’ alt-country core, albeit at a more essential level. In fact, there’s more than a hint of Johnny Cash in these meditations and ruminations on mortality, spirituality, the railroad and the hereafter. Hammond takes a solemn and scholarly approach to these themes, and if some seem rather solemn and austere, the heartland authenticity remains true to tradition. Happily too, there’s enough sentiment stirred in the folk-like flourish of “In The Shadow of Clinch Mountain,” “Wreck of the 97” and “Life is Like a Mountain Railroad” to provide compelling listening, with acoustic guitar, banjo, harmonium, yodeling and whistling ensuring authenticity. It all adds up to an impressive solo foray and one that also ought to raise the worth of his stock in his regular band as well. (Hummingbird 2008)

Murry Hammond MySpace page

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