Category: CD Reviews (Page 117 of 399)

Marillion: Less Is More


RIYL: U2, Simple Minds, Radiohead

It seems a somewhat formidable task to encapsulate two decades of music within the span of a dozen tracks, but Marillion’s latest makes the case that it’s at least worth trying. Summing up the group’s progress following the transition from original singer Fish to current front man Steve Hogarth at the end of the ‘80s, this modest anthology holds together remarkably well, each song segueing seamlessly into the next with scarcely any change in tone or tempo. One can only surmise that that the band is either a stickler for consistency or simply at a loss for new ideas; either way, their sprawling, unhurried sound is as spare as the album title suggests. Songs begin with little more than a few notes on a keyboard or the simple strum of an acoustic guitar before acceding to an underlying, unresolved tension that ripples just below the surface. When the material soars, as with the slightly more emphatic “Hard As Love” or via the bebop rhythms of “If My Heart Were a Ball,” Marillion manage to emulate the plaintive tomes of U2 and Simple Minds. However, aside from the “hidden track” “Cannibal Surf Babe” and a moving cover of Radiohead’s “Fake Plastic Trees” – one of two live bonus tunes – the melodies are somewhat diffuse, showing only a lackluster attempt at capturing a more emphatic sound.

Ironically, when Fish sang with the band during their formative years, Marillion was far more dynamic, though they were constrained by the notion they were simply a poor man’s Genesis. Less Is More suggests the Fish connection is still there, but it’s more like the kind that seeks a hook to hang on. (Eagle Records 2009)

Marillion website

21 Century Breakdown: Mike Farley’s Top 10 Albums of the 2000s

The past decade to me was less about musical trends and styles, and more about how I listen to music. I’ve always been a mix tape guy, and as the ‘90s moved to Y2K, I was entering the world of burning mix CDs. But then around 2004, everything changed, and changed for the better, when I discovered iTunes. Now I could not only make up my own playlists from my music collection, but I could order single songs for 99 cents and add those to my collection. Suddenly I was re-discovering songs from my childhood and teen years, and basically every phase of my music-listening life. And I could arrange all those songs any way I liked…playlists galore and, as I described them, “kickass mixes.” Every four to six months, I make a new play list of what I’m currently listening to, and date that as a new Kickass Mix, something I can go back to that makes me remember what I was doing and feeling at that point in time.

As for the actual music I’ve been listening to and enjoying, there are a few acts that have entered my iTunes world this decade that have become favorites that I can’t get enough of, no matter how many times I listen: The Damnwells, the Silver Seas, Ari Hest, Jason Spooner and Butch Walker, to name a few. I know that radio is basically a shell of its former self and we find and listen to music in so many different ways, but I, for one, have fully embraced the digital world of music.

Here are my picks for top albums of the decade.
1. The Silver Seas: High Society
2. Jason Spooner: The Flame You Follow
3. Ari Hest: The Break In
4. Stereophonics: Langauge, Sex, Violence. Other?
5. The Damnwells: Air Stereo
6. The Southland: Influence of Geography
7. The Damnwells: One Last Century
8. Josh Rouse: 1972
9. Butch Walker: Left of Self Centered
10. Paddy Casey: Addicted To Company

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers: The Live Anthology


RIYL: The Byrds, Bob Dylan, Kings of Leon

Tom Petty set the standard for greatest hits compilations in 1993 when he released the aptly-titled Greatest Hits, which included 16 of his biggest singles, a soon-to-be-smash (“Mary Jane’s Last Dance”), and a very worthwhile cover (Thunderclap Newman’s “Something in the Air”). While some might argue that 1983’s “Change of Heart” (peaking at #21) and 1987’s “Jammin’ Me” (#18) were technically bigger hits than some of the singles that were included, no Petty fan worth his salt is going to argue that those two tunes held up better than the likes of “Listen to Her Heart” (#59) or “Here Comes My Girl” (#59).

Fast forward two years to Petty’s first box set, 1995’s Playback, which was a hodgepodge of hit singles, live tracks and rarities. The set wasn’t very cohesive, but it was important because of its excellent sixth disc (“Nobody’s Children”), which featured 11 leftover tracks from 1986 to 1993 – maybe the most productive span of Petty’s career.

Then there was 2000’s Anthology: Through the Years, which was essentially an expansion of the Greatest Hits disc, though, oddly enough, it didn’t include anything from post-Greatest Hits albums Wildflowers (“You Don’t Know How It Feels,” “It’s Good to Be King,” “You Wreck Me”), She’s The One (“Walls”) or Echo (“Free Girl Now,” “Room At the Top”).

petty live

So now we have The Live Anthology, which comes in several different formats – the standard set (48 tracks on 4 CDs), the deluxe set (62 tracks on 5 CDs, including a 14-track bonus disc, two DVDs, a Blu-Ray disc, a vinyl re-master of of the ’76 Official Live Leg, and more, only available at Best Buy), and a vinyl deluxe box set (51 tracks pressed on seven 180-gram audiophile quality vinyl LPs). This review is of the digital version of the standard set, which is the first live release from Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers since 1986’s Pack Up the Plantation-Live!

Eleven songs in the set are live versions of tracks included on both Greatest Hits and Anthology. (Think big hits like “Refugee” and “American Girl.”) Most of these tracks are relatively faithful interpretations of the studio versions, save for the beautiful “Learning to Fly” and “I Won’t Back Down,” which Petty often plays in concert with a much sparser production. Both tunes are well worth a listen.

Nine album tracks from The Live Anthology also made my recommended Tom Petty Deep Cuts playlist, and are welcome additions here. It’s hard to pick favorites, but it’s nice to see “Angel Dream (No. 2)” and “Have Love Will Travel” get some live love, and “Dreamville” is an especially impressive live performance. “Southern Accents” is vastly improved from the album version since it’s without the irritating, echoing cross stick that was used in the studio.

Considering that the set has been culled together from hundreds of hours of live recordings from 1979 to 2007, the most impressive thing is how cohesive each disc sounds when played start to finish. It’s almost as if the listener gets four individual, hour-long sets from the Heartbreakers. The band has never been afraid to dive into a cover or two, as evidenced by the the presence of Fleetwood Mac’s “Oh Well,” the Zombies’ “I Want You Back Again,” Booker T. and the MGs “Green Onions,” the Grateful Dead’s “Friend of the Devil,” the Dave Clark Five’s “Any Way You Want It” and more.

The Live Anthology is by no means definitive, but it provides a good, in-depth look at one of the greatest live acts of the last thirty years. Moreover, it’s available at the band’s website for $18.49, which is a nice deal for almost four hours of music. (Reprise, 2009)

Steal This Song: Morningwood, “Best of Me”

Truth be told, I’m a bit shocked that the music press is rather indifferent to New York glam rockers Morningwood. I know they’re not the best band New York’s given the world, but their blend of punchy guitars, perky beats and that force of nature named Chantal Claret at the microphone strike some primal chord in me. Maybe it’s a reminder what what rock bands used to sound like, before they worried about whether they were cool enough, or if they were attracting the “right” fans. What a joke, really. Do you think Cheap Trick ever gave a fuck who was listening to their records, as long as people were buying them? Hell, no.

That’s why people refer to the music business these days as junior high school with money. Sadly, the same peer pressure rules apply to the people who write about bands. They want to be seen as cool, too (probably more so than the musicians they write about), so once a band has the perception of not being hip, the writers tend to fall in line. Case in point: a very well-known blogger told me at Lollapalooza in 2007 that they were surprised at how much they liked Silverchair’s performance, yet they the band down in their column. Oh, the price some pay for hipster credibility.

But not me. I gave that ghost up years ago, and I can’t tell you how much easier things are since I did. Of course, this might make bands reluctant to receive my stamp of approval, since it comes with a giant asterisk – Shit! He’s uncool! Wait, unless it’s cool to not care about being cool. Damn, this is hard – but I’m not high enough on the food chain yet for that to matter. Anyway…

Personally, I’ll take a band like Morningwood and a song like “Best of Me” over the more popular Paramore any day of the week. It’s brief (just a hair over three minutes), it’s catchy, it’s confident without bragging, and best of all, it’s all major keys, so there’s no unnecessary melodrama. It reminds me of Pat Benatar in her ass-kicking days (i.e. before she started her family). And you can have it for free. Dig in. And as an appetizer, here’s the video, which contains a nice callback to the band’s hilarious clip for “Sugarbaby,” which is one of my singles of the year.

To download Morningwood’s Best of Me, click here

Elvis Presley: Elvis 75 – Good Rockin’ Tonight


RIYL: 1950s rockabilly, 1960s pop, 1970s country, rock history in general

In honor of Elvis’ 75th birthday – we won’t get into whether he is “the late Elvis” or still rockin’ in the wilds of Michigan – Legacy’s issuing a bunch of records, this one being first up and coinciding with a Graceland bash. In a word, it’s great stuff, a career-spanning retrospective that covers the gamut of the good, bad and ugly from rock’s first real icon, its undisputed King. Elvis diehards probably have most of the 100 tracks spanning the almost 25 years of his recorded career, from the 1953 “My Happiness” demo to Moody Blue tracks; probably only the most manic completists among longtime fans will nibble at this.

For the rest of us, however, it puts Presley’s work in context: There’s no denying the power of Young Elvis, who had an incredible combination of talent, charisma, and the stones to fuse music from black R&B records, gospel, redneck bluegrass, and loud guitars. When he walked into the Memphis Sun Studios and hooked up with label impresario Sam Phillips in 1954 to put down his brilliant first sides, he was just a singer who loved all the music he heard from both sides of the tracks and just didn’t particularly care what people would think if he did. Maybe I’m alone in this opinion, but I believe that all the stuff that came after – the politics, the goofy Graceland stuff, the Army, the movies, the drugs, the Comeback, stuffing his sweaty and overweight frame into sequined Vegas costumes, and finally, the overdose, were not of his doing but caused by external forces he endured, albeit willingly at times. The early songs still sound fresh and crisp: “Mystery Train,” “Blue Moon of Kentucky,” “Jailhouse Rock.” A powderkeg of testosterone and unbridled joy. Rock, undistilled. Then comes the ballads, the country, the gospel stuff…the brutal “Suspicion.” It’s all here, along with the 2002 techno remix of “A Little Less Conversation.”

Listening to this end to end, it’s bizarre to hear Elvis’ transformation from the white-hot beginning to the dying embers of a career when he finally ingested that deadly cocktail of prescription drugs. At first, he synthesized all these at-the-time disparate musical influences to create such musical magic. By the mid-1970s, however, he was clinging desperately to country, sounding like a second-rate Hank Jr. knockoff at best (who himself was a poor Xerox of his daddy). Elvis ended up the ghost of his 1950s and early-’60s heyday, barely recognizable and subject to all the ridicule that’s followed his 1977 death. The moral of the story? Elvis wasn’t larger than life; he was just another rock star, human after all. But just like the NFL has good quarterbacks and bad, as far as rock stars go, Elvis was no Kyle Orton; he was Brett Favre, the greatest statistical player – unstoppable at first but maybe should have called it quits before his career turned into a circus. If you’ve never dug Elvis seriously, check out this box. There’s a lot more going on here than Jay Leno punch lines. When he was on top of his game, he wrote rock history with a gorgeously powerful voice and a beguiling smile. This box remembers that part, best. (Sony/Legacy, 2009).

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