Category: Pop (Page 61 of 216)

Taylor Swift: Fearless – Platinum Edition


RIYL: Julianne Hough, Miranda Lambert, buying stuff twice

Even by the record industry’s inflated, pre-Internet standards, Taylor Swift’s Fearless was a huge album, particularly for a teenage singer/songwriter on her sophomore release: in less than a year, it sold more than five million copies in the States, spun off a record-breaking 12 Top 40 hits, and provided some of 2009’s only tangible evidence that someone other than Michael Jackson can still sell records. All of which is presumably the only justification Swift’s label needed to join the obnoxious “deluxe reissue” trend by tacking on five brand new recordings, a “piano version” of album track “Forever & Always,” and a bonus DVD containing five music videos, four behind-the-scenes featurettes, a photo gallery, and the infamous CMT Awards clip that found Swift donning a sideways cap and rapping alongside T-Pain as T-Swizzle. It’s a ton of extra content, to be sure – and at Amazon’s loss-leader early price of $14.99, it’s a heckuva bargain, too. And it’s also worth mentioning that in today’s era of a la carte digital distribution, this kind of repackaging isn’t quite as crass as it was before iTunes and Amazon’s MP3 Store came along. Still, Fearless: Platinum Edition fails to resonate on two levels: first, although the new tracks aren’t bad at all, they don’t feel like missing pieces of the original album – which ties into the second problem, which is that at 19 tracks and almost 100 minutes of music, this is a bloated, unfocused version of a record that was pretty close to perfect as it was. Why not release an EP – or better yet, why not save these songs for the next full-length album? Simply to drop a piece of premium-priced product on store shelves in time for the holiday season, when Swift’s many teenaged fans can hit up their loved ones for a copy. Fearless still does a fine job of illustrating Swift’s gifts as a songwriter and performer, but this version just isn’t as much fun. (Big Machine 2009)

Taylor Swift MySpace page

Devendra Banhart: What Will We Be


RIYL: Donovan, Marc Bolan, Veviter

Toiling within the ranks of the indie underground, Devendra Banhart has managed to elevate himself into the highest ranks of the so-called “freak folk” hierarchy. His last album, Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon, made a pitch to expand that tag, with Banhart attempting to meld his obtuse approach with the idyllic imagery of the L.A. environs that spawned such ‘60s lynchpins as Neil Young, CSN, the Mamas and the Papas, Joni Mitchell, and various others that made music in those hallowed hills. Likewise, his recruitment by the majors – in this case, Warner Bros. records, home to many of those aforementioned icons – seemed to indicate a concerted effort to break through the barriers.

Indeed, while Banhart’s new label affiliation might seem a concession to commercialism, in truth, the results are every bit as eclectic…and, for that matter, every bit as eccentric…as his earlier efforts. The songs are sung in both English and Spanish, and rather than the clear, coherent melodies identified with the so-called Southern California elite, Banhart still shifts his set-ups – often radically and in the space of a single song. Consequently, “Rats” has a somewhat foreboding start before segueing abruptly into a state of kinetic jubilation. The jazzy inference of “Chin Chin & Muck Muck” morphs several times before the song hits its stride. Likewise, “Angelika” might have succeeded as a soothing serenade had it not accelerated midway through into a sizzling Latin samba.

Still, for all his abrupt turns, Banhart retains a decidedly old school stance. His melodies may seem somewhat amorphous, but his quivering vocals and loping tempos frequently recall the pixie-like warble of Donovan and Marc Bolan. A couple of tracks might bode well for future sing-alongs, specifically “16 & Valencia Roxy Music” and the gentle Spanish serenade called “Brindo.” As an album that’s magnified by ambition and grand designs, What Will We Be may well be his best yet. (Warner Bros. 2009)

Devendra Banhart MySpace page
Click to buy What Will We Be from Amazon

Rickie Lee Jones: Balm In Gilead


RIYL: Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon, Janis Ian

It seems but a blink of the eye when in reality it’s been three decades since Rickie Lee Jones scored her breakthrough hit, “Chuck E.’s In Love,” and subsequently garnered her Grammy for Best New Artist. In the 30 years since, Jones has mostly flown below the radar, at least in terms of her commercial appeal, but her sassy, soulful style continues to leave its imprint and make her a recurring staple. Jones has always seemed most comfortable playing the role of both barfly and ingénue, crooning twilight ballads with a knowing air of cool and sophistication, while also taking sharp turns at practically every juncture.

Its not surprising then that those disarming glances haven’t necessarily helped tug Jones back into the mainstream. So consider it fortunate that her new album, the uniformly pleasing Balm In Gilead, again finds her at the top of her game, vamping with versatility through a surprisingly disparate set of songs. No longer the shadowy chanteuse, she proves here that her pull is still intact. Encompassing songs that were written years, and even decades, before, the album gathers some of the best songs she’s authored in years. While her devotees will find the smoky barroom vibe of “Old Enough,” “The Moon Is Made of Gold” and “Eucalyptus Trail” akin to a reassuring refrain, her country croon on “Remember Me” and ambient drone of the stirring “His Jeweled Floor” show an obvious willingness to expand her parameters into more accessible terrain. Toss in some beguiling ballads – “Bonfire,” “Wild Girl” and “A House on Bayless Street” – and Balm In Gilead becomes a soothing salve indeed. (Fantasy 2009)

Rickie Lee Jones web page
Click to buy Balm in Gilead 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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