Category: Rock (Page 72 of 241)

Wolfmother: Cosmic Egg


RIYL: Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Black Sabbath

Wolfmother is back! Well, Andrew Stockdale, the lead singer/guitarist of Wolmother is back – everyone else quit/got fired last year and Stockdale decided to continue the Wolfmother name without them. But the new Wolfmother, now a foursome instead of a power trio, doesn’t sound terribly different from the old Wolfmother. So there’s not much need to describe the “sound” of Cosmic Egg: it sounds like Wolfmother. Have you heard “Woman” or “The Joker and the Thief,” from their 2005 self-titled debut? Then you know what you’re in for here. Is that really a problem, though? Sure, Stockdale may just be cribbing the best bits from ’70s metal (specifically, the crunching riffs of Black Sabbath’s Tony Iommi, the howling screams of Robert Plant, and the totally groovy organ solos of Deep Purple), but what the hell is wrong with that? Have you heard the “modern” rock on the radio today?

wolfmother cosmic edit

Maybe we got it right in 1976 – why move forward? If anything, Wolfmother needs to move further in that direction. When they try to slow things down or pop things up for radio, such as on the anemic love ballad “Far Away,” they sound lost. When they let themselves kick out the jams, they deliver; whether slow and methodical, such as the wah-wah heavy “Sundial,” or fist-pounding and headbanger friendly, like “New Moon Rising,” “Phoenix,” or just about every other song on the album. Yeah, it may not be the most original or “intelligent” release of the year, but it’s a solid dose of hard rock and heavy metal at a time when they’re few and far between.

A quick note of annoyance, though: there are two versions of Cosmic Egg, deluxe and standard (our review copy was the standard edition). The deluxe copy comes with four more songs, which add up to 20 more minutes of music. These aren’t outtakes, live tracks or acoustic versions; there’s nothing notably different about these tunes. So when you’re buying the “standard” version of the record you’re basically not getting the full version. It’s hard to tell what the purpose behind such a release strategy is, since all it does it drive people who bought the standard version to go online and download what they’re missing. It’s hard enough for artists to sell records these days, and crap like this just makes it that much harder. What’s the point? (Modular 2009)

Wolfmother’s MySpace Page
Click to buy Cosmic Egg on Amazon

Los Cenzontles with David Hidalgo & Taj Mahal: American Horizon


RIYL: Los Lobos, Taj Mahal, Ry Cooder

Odds are you’ve never heard of Los Cenzontles (the name translates to “the Mockingbirds”), but they’ve been a major force in traditional Mexican music since forming in 1989. Twenty years and 17 albums later, they’ve teamed up with Taj Mahal and Los Lobos’ David Hidalgo (who also worked with the group on last year’s Songs of Wood and Steel) for American Horizon, a sprawling, 15-track concept album that, in the band’s words, “tells a timely story of immigration, work, and the American Dream.” Not the sort of thing you’re going to hear coming out of Sean Hannity’s car stereo, in other words, but if you’re looking for a beautifully moving collection of roots music that literally transcends language, get ready to spend a few weeks curled up inside the restless grooves of this album. You won’t be able to understand the literal meaning of much of it if you don’t speak Spanish, but don’t worry – you only need a soul and a pair of ears to be able to feel American Horizon’s bright strains of joy and sadness. Think of it as a sort of spiritual cousin to the Buena Vista Social Club, and you’ll be on the right track. Mahal and Hidalgo receive second billing, but don’t buy Horizon looking for flashy cameos; instead, their work here reflects a pair of careers spent knocking down musical barriers. It’s one of the most heartfelt – and purely interesting – records we’ve heard all year. (Los Cenzontles 2009)

Los Cenzontles MySpace page
Click to buy American Horizon on Amazon

Anthony Bozza: Why AC/DC Matters

Aptly priced at $16.66, Bozza’s tribute to the “greatest living rock band” is packaged like any of a million little impulse-buy, gift books that clutter the front counters of chain stores and independents alike. Unlike those books, which tend to be scant collections of unfunny jokes, sappy homilies, or sound-bite life instructions, Bozza has written a fiery, fast paced, aggressively written love cry to one of the most indestructible and eminently powerful rock bands ever.

Like AC/DC itself, Bozza’s writing is both straightforward and accessible, while challenging in its condemnation of rock criticism in general and unquestionably catchy as any good story should be. His introduction is as short and hard-hitting as the intro to Back in Black, quickly setting down the purpose behind his book and giving us a personal feel for his relationship with the band and music that has been nearly lifelong. It also provides a quick, but important critique of modern music writing that is a must read for anyone (this reviewer included) who wants to be an authentic voice in musical journalism.

The chapters are divided into small bios of the band members, crossed with succinct but erudite studies of the various musicalities. While getting the story of the “youngest Youngs” Malcolm and Angus and their rise to iconic status, we also get a fine analysis of their guitar method and idiosyncrasies. What comes across is the surprising quality of brotherly support that is not only at the heart of AC/DC’s professional success, but also their self-taught musical skill; skill that can be lost in the visceral impact of the songs themselves. When telling the truth-is-stranger-than-fiction tale of Bon Scott and the transition to Brian Johnson, Bozza not only grants us an immerse sense of the musical history behind the band, but we get a physiology lesson in hard rock singing. Continuing through Mark Evans, Cliff Williams and the amazing Phil Rudd, he manages to deconstruct AC/DC’s music without killing the magic.

The book ends with a heartfelt ode to the fans who have stood by this band for 36 years, providing a sense of continuity that provides an excellent case study in AC/DC of the massive changes to the music industry; massive changes the band has navigated with an unrelenting forward momentum based on honest, blood & guts, rock & roll integrity.

Bozza loves AC/DC, and with this short, gut punch of a book, he proves you should to.

For those about to rock… read this book!

Click to buy Why AC/DC Matters from Amazon

Sam Shrieve: Bittersweet Lullabies


RIYL: Denison Witmer, Jeff Buckley, Adam Cohen

A chip off the old rock? Well, not exactly, although admittedly Sam Shrieve shares his dad’s penchant for making a mark at an early age. The elder Shrieve was, of course, the frenetic drummer for the first Santana band, the youngest musician to play Woodstock and the piercing on-camera presence that practically stole the show from his colleagues. Young Sam takes a more refined route and while his glamorous good looks are obviously destined for full exploitation, his music is considerably more cerebral than either dad’s tribal tempos or than the typical pinup poser. Consequently, Bittersweet Lullabies proves an apt title for these pleasant soft pop musings, alternately celebratory (“Beautiful,” “”Kiss You,” “I’m Sorry”) and unabashedly sentimental (“Welcome to Your Life,” “”I’ll Be There,” “”Sanctuary”). An aching take on the oft-covered “Hallelujah” actually cuts through the competition and fits perfectly in the mix, as sure a sign of Shrieve’s proficiency as any of his originals. A solid support cast, including veterans Bill Frisell and Lyle Workman, lend additional credibility, but Sam’s the man when it comes to carrying the bulk of the musical weight. Dad must be proud, although wondering where the rhythm went. Nevertheless, this impressive initial outing carries a weight all its own. (Colorburst Soundfield 2009)

Sam Shrieve MySpace page

Timothy B. Schmit: Expando


RIYL: Graham Nash, America, Poco

Despite his indelible imprint on several generations of Southern California soft rockers – from Poco to the Eagles and various side duties along the way in support of his like-minded peers – Timothy B. Schmit has only rarely taken the solo spotlight via a mere handful of individual albums over the expanse of the past 40 years or so. With Expando, Schmit does what he’s always done beast, offering up a set of unassuming, inoffensive mid-tempo pop songs that spotlight his lilting vocals and amiable, good-natured melodies.

Indeed, if the new album reflects a burnished, distinctly ‘70s feel, its for good reason; Graham Nash, Levon Helm, Van Dyke Parks, Jim Keltner and the ever-present Benmont Tench are among the venerable old school stalwarts lending support. Not surprisingly, Schmit’s most impressive offerings are those that find him testing his upper register – specifically, “Ella Jean,” “A Good Day” and “Secular Praise,” a song that finds the Blind Boys of Alabama providing gospel accompaniment. The latter can also be found on the Blind Boys’ new Duets LP, where it also stands out as among the best of that bunch.

In fact, the only time Schmit seems out of his element is when he delves into a hint of blues and funk, respectively – as on lead-off track “One More Mile” and the tongue-in-cheek “White Boy From Sacramento.” Here’s a hint as far as the latter is concerned – the title tells all. (Lost Highway 2009)

Timothy B. Schmit website

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