Category: CD QuickTakes (Page 52 of 149)

Los Lonely Boys: 1969


RIYL: Santana, Blind Faith, The Doors

The Texas power trio loves classic rock and that affection is on display here with an EP featuring covers of five tunes from one of the greatest years in rock history, 1969. Santana’s “Evil Ways” kicks it off with a showcase for Henry Garza’s blazing lead guitar skills. Blind Faith’s “Well All Right” and the Beatles’ “She Came in Through the Bathroom Window” both receive the “Texican” treatment and become groovier than the original versions. The band makes the songs sound like their own with upbeat arrangements where Garza’s soulful vocals intertwine very nicely with his guitar playing. There are also jamming wah-wah solos at the end of each.

Tony Joe White’s “Polk Salad Annie” is the most obscure track on the disc, but it’s a bluesy rocker that fits right in. The Garza brothers close it out with The Doors’ “Roadhouse Blues,” which also receives an infusion of wah-wah before blowing up into a turbo-charged jam. All the songs retain a classic sound thanks in part to mixing by Andy Johns, the engineer who recorded the original version of “Well All Right” (as well as working with Led Zeppelin and the Rolling Stones.)

These artists are all obvious influences on Los Lonely Boys. But since there would be no point in making an EP of covers that sound just like the originals, it’s fun to hear the band do a strong job of re-arranging the tunes so that anyone of them would fit right into their live set. (R.E.D. Distribution 2009)

Los Lonely Boys MySpace page

Tim McCarver: Sings Songs from the Great American Songbook


RIYL: Frank Sinatra, Harry Connick Jr, Nat King Cole

Tim McCarver was a heck of a baseball player and is, despite the fact that many of you find his broadcasting annoying, a fantastic color analyst who teaches us more about the game with each passing telecast. He’s also blessed with a set of pipes that have granted him a long career calling games. But for those of you expecting a train wreck on McCarver’s debut as a singer, Tim McCarver Sings Songs from the Great American Songbook, you might want to save those eggs and tomatoes for someone else. We’ll give you that he’s nowhere in the class of crooners who made or make their living doing that, because you can certainly hear the green in McCarver’s wavering vocals at times. But for the most part, McCarver does a stand-up job on songs, that, let’s face it, are not easy to sing. It’s a nice little set of tunes, and among the best are the opener, “On a Clear Day,” the bouncy “I Wish I Were in Love Again,” and the one that he makes very believable giving his background, “There Used to Be a Ballpark.” Nobody expects McCarver to quit his day job, but he’s going to exceed lots of expectations with this one. (Archer 2009)

Tim McCarver at Archer Records

The Mother Hips: Pacific Dust


RIYL: Crazy Horse, the Eagles, New Riders of the Purple Sage

Granted, any band that’s been around more than a decade and a half should have been picked up on the public’s radar by this time, and the fact that the Mother Hips have barely registered a blip doesn’t exactly offer any sort of attribute in their favor. It’s a misfortune they lament on “Third Floor Story,” a tale of record company imbroglio that ranks as one of several highlights on this otherwise agreeable new album, their seventh outing to date and possibly their best shot at routing the indifference that’s greeted them thus far. Indeed, based on the evidence offered herein, there’s no reason why this California combo ought not finally win the following that’s eluded them so long. Faithful purveyors of West Coast country rock, with more than a hint of a ‘70s sensibility, they serve up unfettered melodies that once would have invited radio play and the adulation of the masses. Songs like “White Falcon Fuzz,” “One Way Out” and “All in Favor” recall the dusty, free-wheeling affinity that made the Eagles, Neil Young, the Jayhawks and others of that ilk rank so prominently as heartland heroes. Perhaps their problem lies in the fact that they could be perceived as retracing terrain that was so widely traversed more than 30 years ago, and is now considered somewhat out of sync, especially given competition from boy band wannabes, unrepentant rappers and the various other pop pretenders that dominate the charts these days. Too bad – it may not be hip to like the Hips, but when it comes to mining a solid, road-weary sound, they become the Mother of reinvention. (Camera Records 2009)

The Mother Hips MySpace page

Angel Taylor: Love Travels


RIYL: Vanessa Carlton, Kate Voegele, Cobie Caillat

No album in the last five years has brought out the big brother in us quite like Angel Taylor’s Love Travels has. The former California coffeehouse singer has assembled an album of mannered piano pop so wistful that it should come with a bonus CD of heavy sighs to play concurrently with the album. If we ever meet Ms. Taylor, the conversation will start with us giving her a big hug, tousling her hair and assuring her that everything will be all right, sweetie. She’s not exactly reinventing the wheel here, but the songwriting has a throwback feel to it, lifting songs like “Make Me Believe” and the Vanessa Carlton-ish “Chai Tea Latte” over the dreck that passes for adult contemporary pop today. And, thank heaven, Taylor has no use for melisma-inspired vocal runs, preferring to keep things simple. That is one trend we hope picks up some more steam. If you have a sensitive tween girl in your life, this is the album for her. And her mother. (Sony 2009)

Angel Taylor MySpace page
Click to buy Love Travels from Amazon

Or, The Whale: Or, The Whale


RIYL: The Jayhawks, The Parson Red Heads, Wilco

Note to Alison Krauss and Bob Dylan: give Or, The Whale a call next time you’re looking for a hot young opening band to help carry your Americana torch. Indeed, a tinge of that days-of-old feeling permeates the sweet, harmony-laden sounds of San Francisco’s rising alt-country starlets in Or, The Whale. On the band’s self-titled second album, steel and acoustic guitars provide the rural flavor, and the vocals of Lindsay Garfield, bassist Justin Fantil, keyboardist Julie Ann Thomasson and guitarists Alex Robins and Matt Sartain seal the deal. They lead, coalesce, and otherwise intertwine in ways that suggest a deep down happiness that transcends the heartbreaking subject matter, like the agoraphobe in “Never Coming Out” and dead dog lament “Datura.” These are all fine and dandy, but the album’s clincher is the slow building centerpiece “Count the Stars,” where sound, feel and execution meet to achieve a harmonious balance that rivals the one inherent in the band’s own vocal strength. (Seany 2009)

Or, The Whale MySpace

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