THIS MONTH'S DOWNLOADING PROSPECTS...

The Ultimate Victory, Chamillionaire (Universal)---Much is made out of how this Houston rapper sets himself apart from other lyricists, but he doesn't get enough credit for the accuracy of his vision, defending Southern rap and aligning himself metaphorically with Snoop. Fortunately, his mix of hook laden beats, rapid fire lyrics and sing-a-long refrains are among the most infectious in rap. When he compares CEO's to slavemasters, explaining their employees "work the bill but don't even own it" or when he charges if you aren't "upper class, then your opinion is irrelevant" only a media wanker could miss the point.
Play It As It Lays, Patti Scialfa (Columbia)---Scialfa has now made a trilogy of albums (spread out over more than a decade) that offer a vision of life as lived by a tough, smart woman who is both romantic and practical, cynical and embracing. "Run Run Run" celebrates a similar figure, Shirley Muldowney, the first great female drag racer. Elsewhere she slips girl group choruses into stark examinations of how spouses cheat each other, without exactly cheating. None of Scialfa's albums sounds much like the one that preceded or followed it. But all of them sound better than good, thanks to excellent production and arrangement smarts, and a rhythm section whose bedrock is drummer Steve Jordan and the ageless Willie Weeks on bass. Nils Lofgren plays very bluesy guitar on top although the melodic force just as often emerges from Cliff Carter's piano. Scialfa asks something of us that few artists dare: She wants listeners who are as engaged and excited by reality and excellent musicianship. In a better world, they'd be flocking to her. In this one, she's one of the boomer generation's best kept secrets.
Chronchitis, Slightly Stoopid (Stoopid)---As time goes on, they have evolved away from being a mirror of fellow Cali stoners Sublime, honing a focus on an acoustic-dominated reggaefied sound. Nothing about them---not the playing, the singing, or the writing--leaps out at you but their overall vibe of good intentions and supreme self-confidence is just fucking irresistible. And there's enough variety to keep your finger near the repeat button. Slightly Stoopid just toils away in productive obscurity, maybe due to the vagaries of the music business or maybe due to the fact that their ridiculous name invites people not to take them seriously. That's too bad, because Chronchitis, if not quite a masterpiece at the level of The Chronic, is one hell of an album that deserves widespread inhalation.
Mighty High, Gov't Mule (ATO)--- If the question is "Where is there left for hard rock to go?," here's one good answer. Begins with a heavy, humid cover of Al Green's "I'm A Ram," with Warren Haynes offering a serviceable vocal and a killer riff, falling away to reggae sections that set up that thrilling riff again. After seven minutes of that, it's a dub version of "Unring the Bell" with Jamaican singer Willi Williams. The rest of the album winds in and out of dub, always ultimately returning to some approximation of "I'm A Ram." Live recordings are doctored to good effect too, especially "Play With Fire," where Michael Franti takes the cynical populism of the Rolling Stones and turns it into an apocalyptic prophecy of revolution.
Son of Skip James, Dion (Verve Forecast)---Dion is 68 years old. Next year will mark his 50th year as a recording artist. He is the only great '50s rock and roller who has sustained himself all that time, writing songs, making unpredictable albums of great creativity throughout the decades. The music Dion has made on his last two albums-The Bronx in Blue last year and its follow-up---ranks with the finest things he or anyone else in the rock world has ever done with blues. He applies his doowop smarts to singing songs like "If I Had Possession Over Judgment Day"), " "Devil Got My Woman," and "Hoochie Coochie Man" and he is a masterful guitarist. So he not only gets away with working tunes pioneered by Robert Johnson, Skip James and Muddy Waters, he makes his blues as truly personal as it needs to be to honor the form and its masters. Compared to what he does here, The Bronx in Blue is a sketch and Clapton's Johnson tribute album a finger-painting. This is a genuinely great album, and it's fearless--he not only takes on those blues classics, he also nails a version of Chuck Berry's "Nadine," and effortlessly incorporate several new songs he's written into the mix. May he make such sounds for another half century.
Latino Modern: The Greatest Songs Ever (Petrol/EMI)---A compilation of artists from Mexico, Spain, Argentina, Colombia, and...the Bronx. What links the music together other than language is that it's all highly danceable, with a pop feel and sense of optimism. The raindrops of everything from dub to electronica to hip-hop drip down and fertilize indigenous gardens and the results feel more harvested than concocted. Highlights include Pacha Massive's "Don't Let Go," which sounds like it could have been written by Madonna until the gentle left turn where a clavinet starts breathing in the spaces of a guitar solo and "Amortiguador [Shock Absorber]," by Andrea Echeverri of Aterciopelados, which expresses both aspects of its title with a sweetness tempered by a chip on the shoulder.
Give Us Your Poor: 17 New Recordings to Help End Homelessness (Appleseed)---The solution to the most intractable problems of poverty begins with the poor taking control of their own situation. Here's a step in the right direction. Although the billing goes to stars--Natalie Merchant (the beautiful "There Is No Good Reason"), Bruce Springsteen with Pete Seeger, Bonnie Raitt, Bon Jovi, Buffalo Tom and readings by Danny Glover and Tim Robbins--many of the musicians here are or have been homeless. Glover's "My Name Is Not 'Those People'" is particularly chilling in a climate frozen into an ugly posture by the likes of Imus's return and the degrading Presidential election "debates."
Over the Under, Down (ILG/Warner Music Group)---The aftermath of Katrina has only solidified the myth that New Orleans is all about jazz and R&B when in fact hip-hop has been a massive Crescent City export and so has heavy metal. Down is a collection of musicians from Pantera, Corrosion of Conformity, Crowbar, and Eyehategod--all of whom claim New Orleans as home---who made this album in the wake of the flood. While only three songs are explicitly about Katrina ("On March the Saints," "Mourn," "Beneath the Tides"), the entire CD has the feeling of nature out of balance, of water giving death instead of life, of monstrous riffs saving drowning men. The closer, the Zep-like epic "Nothing in Return," urges us to just "walk away" but, like America and Katrina, we can't. Gotta play it again, gotta find a way home.
The Young Rascals (Collector's Choice); Groovin', The Young Rascals (Collector's Choice)---In 1966, there were good blue-eyed soul cover bands all over the place, inspired by connections both indirect (the radio) and direct (Rascals drummer Dino Dinelli apprenticed with Little Willie John). The Young Rascals took their place near the top of that firmament with organ-driven sizzle and convincing vocals on the likes of "Good Lovin'," "Mustang Sally," and "Midnight Hour." The real test was the leap to original material and, by their third album, the group had mastered that while effecting a considerable change in sound by using piano instead of organ. "A Girl Like You" and "How Can I Be Sure" are shimmering, gorgeous love songs made more potent by the universal realities they reflect. "Groovin'" used harmonica, flute, and percussion to help fashion an across the board smash that completed the circle, giving the group a large black audience.
Bass on Top, Paul Chambers (Blue Note)---In 1959, bassist Chambers was a part of the recording of Miles Davis's Kind of Blue, which included "So What" and the memorable bass line which has impacted music ever since. Here on this 1957 date, Chambers begins "You'd Be So Nice To Come Home To" with four bars of that bass line, then seems to back away from it in awe of its power, only to go forward and create one of the few successful albums by a bass player who doesn't compose. Chambers dominates nonetheless, sometimes by extended bowing sections, always by projecting his strong spirit and musicality into the mix. Guitarist and primary foil Kenny Burrell has to work hard to keep up.
Draw the Curtains, Will Hoge (Rykodisc)---A heartland writer-performer in his early 30s, so committed to his work that he drives his own bus---and so good at what he does that he can afford to own one. Hoge is all about the passion, whether it's for a lover (the title track, "Dirty Little War"), a lifestyle ("The Highway's Home") or his opposition to the war and the culture that produced it ("Washed by the Water"). If this sounds like the heyday of Bruce, Tom, Bob and John, it's not an accident---and the quality level isn't far off, either.
Number 1s, Conway Twitty (MCA Nashville)---Begins with 1958's "It's Only Make Believe," one long crescendo of unrequited love that is an homage to the RCA Elvis, not the Sun Elvis, although Twitty was born right down the road from Elvis's Tupelo hometown and also moved to Memphis. It goes on to four duets with Loretta Lynn, from the resignation of "Lead Me On" to the joyful "Louisiana Woman, Mississippi Man," all part of a 28-year sprawl of number one songs. Twitty---who wrote several of his hits---explores his inner thoughts and conflicts, sharing them with his women even when he betrays them. With his baritone growl and soulful production, he is far above the ranks of the mere countrypolitan crooners with whom he was often linked.
The Scene of the Crime, Betty Lavette (Anti)---Lavette's 2005 I've Got My Own Hell to Raise couldn't properly be called a comeback since the soul veteran never had a hit in thirty years of trying. (The news of this album's Grammy nomination moved her to tears.) That album featured a batch of songs written by women, from Joan Armatrading and Sinead O'Connor to Dolly Parton and Rosanne Cash. This one puts her together with the Drive By Truckers, and the collaboration brings out the smarts and toughness in both. Lavette still considers herself an interpretative songwriter, and she's possibly the finest one still practicing. But while these songs may have originated with writers like Elton John, Eddie Hinton and John Hiatt, they're hers now, even Elton's "Talking Old Soldiers" and "I Still Want to Be Your Baby (Take Me as I Am)," one of Hinton's defining compositions. The best of them all is "Before the Money Came (The Ballad of Betty Lavette)," which she cowrote with the Truckers' Patterson Hood. In her early 60s, Lavette sounds like she might be around-and highly visible-for quite some time to come. Damn right it's about time.
Never Slow Down, Roman Carter (Bong Load)---Garland, Alabama native Carter has been bringing it with his textured hoarse shout for forty years but it hardly sounds frayed on this collaboration with former Beck producer Tom Rothrock (they co-wrote most of the songs). There is some use of beats and distortion, but the main instrumental punch is supplied by slide guitar, dobro, organ and live drums. The result is an organic hybrid that doesn't necessarily feel modern or retro, except maybe in the way a couple of tunes evoke the feeling of some great gospel-infused one-off hit circa 1970.
The Outsider, CL Smooth (St. Nick/Blackheart)---CL Smooth's voice and its flow, so embedded in the history of hip-hop, is as good as ever. This mixtape album has new songs and redone ones from his American Me album plus four effective live tracks from a Dutch concert, classic tunes from his days with Pete Rock. Highlights include the raw, guitar-driven "Impossible" and a sweet, beautiful remix of "Heaven Only Know" with John Legend.
Soneros Jarochos:The Arhoolie Recordings 1989-90, Grupo Mono Blanco (Arhoolie)---If you have trouble getting into Mexican traditional music, try son jarocho. With its heavy West African and Afro Caribbean historical influences, it's closer to what North American ears are used to. Mono Blanco, with four generations of musicians in it and recorded live here, is one of the groups which has helped to galvanize a revival of this Veracruz genre in both Mexico and California. Although the lineup is string harp and small, specialized acoustic guitars, this is heavy music made for all night dancing---the rhythmic drive is overwhelming and the vocals soar and dive like demented fighter planes. There is now a growing two-way pipeline of music and musicians between Veracruz and the United States, so keep your eyes open for a local show since son jarocho is best experienced in person.
The Detroit-Memphis Experiment, Mitch Ryder (Lilith)---One of the pinnacles of blue-eyed soul, this lost classic features Ryder fronting none other than Booker T & the MGs and turning in unforgettable performances of "Raise Your Hand," Otis Redding's "Direct Me," and originals such as "Liberty," "Meat" and "Push Aroun'." Ignored or panned when it appeared on Paramount Records in 1969, this album actually proves that Ryder's voice was one of the best R&B vehicles ever, period. How it is that such a great figure finds an audience mainly in Germany these days is one of God's great anomalies.
Roy Street Inn, Rex Moroux (rexmoroux.com)---Cajun soul singer with an ache in his throat and a keenly observant eye for dramatic particulars. He can break your heart with stuff like "December 24th," "Extended Stay America," and most of all, "Walking My Baby Home."
Rise, Samantha James (Om)---Under the jaunty spell of dance producer Sebastian Arocha Morton, James is something like Sade without a band---cool, breathy, tugging unobtrusively at your heart (or maybe a little lower). The title track is the flip side of suicide bombing ("People rise together/When they believe in tomorrow") while "Send It Out to the Universe" is that belief in tomorrow.
Bridge of Sighs, Robin Trower (Capitol/EMI)---On the former Procol Harum guitarist's second solo album, he runs one killer riff after another through both massive reverb and a Hendrix fixation that doesn't get in the way of his own creativity. What lifts this album above the pack is stellar songwriting and the powerhouse vocals of bassist James Dewar. There's also a bonus album of live tracks included---uniformly good and, in the case of "Confessin' Midnight," absolutely electrifying.
Psychedelic Sunrise, The Chesterfield Kings (Wicked Cool)---Garage rock that rushes out when you open the door, reminiscent of when such sounds were all over the radio. "Rise and Fall" projects a happy ending to wars everywhere while "Inside Looking Out" has that great fake classical vibe of days gone by. Heavily British-influenced without falling into anglophilia. No mean feat.
Live at the Turning Point, Willie Nile (River House Records)---The opening "Welcome to My Head" just about sums it up; this is a career retrospective from the small but mighty Nile, and his accomplices, Rich Pagano on percussion and the great Jimmy Vivino on everything else. From "The Day I Saw Bo Diddley in Washington Square," a celebration of rock'n'roll spirit, to "Cell Phones Ringing in the Pockets of the Dead," a meditation on the dead and dying in the rubble of the Madrid train station bombing, to the cover of the Who's "Substitute" and the Ramones' "I Wanna Be Sedated," this is the real shit: Deep, tender, irreverent, funny, quick as a knife and twice as honest.
Down Below It's Chaos, Kinski (Sub Pop)---Opening for Tool with no soundcheck earlier this year, Seattle's Kinski wandered the too big stage like lost lambs, had equipment problems, and still were able to bring the crowd into their world of hugely satisfying, eclectic sludge riff instrumentals. On record, it's (a little) more neat and clean, which means that you can more easily hear and feel all the hammer and tongs sounds they cram into each track. They don't use electric guitars to look for truth, they insist the electric guitar is truth. They ain't lying.
Funk This, Chaka Khan (Burgundy)---Chaka has become some kind of Minneapolis magnet---her last album was produced by Prince and this one is produced by Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, both of whom Prince fired from the Time back in the day. (the Time's Jesse Johnson is also the primary guitarist here). Naturally, they cover Prince--giving "Sign O The Times" a surging ending and a change-the-world outro. This album is a different sound for the Jam/Lewis production team, with plenty of live drums and domination by guitars, both chunky fills and screaming leads. It's about half covers (Hendrix, Joni Mitchell, Rufus, Doobie Brothers), with some good Khan originals (especially "Back in the Day" and "Super Life") and a roaring duet with Mary J. Blige, "Disrespectful."
Soul Season, Tim Krekel Orchestra (Natchez Trace)---Krekel's a veteran Nashville songwriter but though he's penned a hit for Patty Loveless and worked with Jimmy Buffett, left on his own he's never been anything but an R&B-drenched rocker. The band here sounds more like one of those tight, tough groups that Mitch Ryder put together in the '70s and '80s than anybody's "orchestra." The songs and performances are both on fire, never more so than on "Wilson Pickett," a tribute to the soul giant from a guy who loves him so much that he imagines Pickett's buried in his backyard.
Moby Grape (Sundazed)---Thirteen songs totaling thirty-one minutes wasn't that unusual in 1967, but an album that features--start to finish--such strong songwriting, sharp playing, and varied harmonies is unusual in any era. Some tunes emerge from jagged blasts of electric guitar, while others such as "Sitting By the Window," an aching sigh set to music, drag you quietly into your own pain. The energy captured in this debut was such that the group imploded immediately afterward, scattering random albums across the landscape but only as their one mountain of greatness receded rapidly in the rear view mirror.
Ultra Wave, Bootsy (Collector's Choice Music)---This 1980 album takes a James Brown core of musicians (Bootsy's brother Catfish Collins on guitar, the Horny Horns of Maceo Parker and Fred Wesley) and colors way outside the Godfather's lines with its refusal to take itself seriously while creating some serious funk. "It's a Musical" is very off-Broadway, with a splayed lockstep between bass and the clavinet enticing dancers to try new things while "Sacred Flower" is a lovely, elongated ballad that Bootsy describes as "foreplay." "Fat Cat" is less spacy---it's an indictment of those future guardians of Internet morality who, the story goes here, shorted Bootsy on his money.
Everybody's Brother, Billy Joe Shaver (Compadre)---Shaver is both Christian and contrarian so even though one of these songs declares "If You Don't Love Jesus," you are condemned to the pits of Hell, the best of them ("To Be Loved by a Woman," "The Greatest Man Alive," "You'll Always Be My Best Friend") are about the glories and tragedies of everyday life. Which is why Shaver is one of the greatest songwriters who ever lived, a unique figure worthy of his own designation: "Honky Tonk Hero."
Dylanesque, Bryan Ferry (Virgin)---Ferry has been one of the finest Dylan interpreters since his debut solo album in 1973, with its monumental reinvention of "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall." Here he tackles eleven Dylan tunes, from the inevitable ("The Times They Are A-Changin'") to the inimitable ("Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues") to the delightfully surprising ("If Not for You," "Gates of Eden," "Make You Feel My Love"). Nobody this side of Roger McGuinn and the man himself has ever sung this material better.
Gozalo! Bugalu Tropical Vol. 1 (Vampisoul)---Boogaloo emerged in New York in the early 60s as a result of cross-fertilization of Puerto Rican and black musics under the influence of Cuba. It then traveled back toward its original sources and beyond--in this case Peru. Peruvian bugalu flowered in the space between the mambo and salsa eras and was much less influenced by American soul music than its New York counterpart. It's more big band music, with occasional hints of Cab Calloway and rock and roll, and it's amazing to hear such a treasure trove of previously unknown bands. What's next?
Sweet Earth Flower: A Tribute to Marion Brown, His Name is Alive (High Two)---Although alto saxophonist Brown was a leader of the 60s avant jazz scene, the nine-piece Detroit band His Name is Alive only occasionally goes in that direction. Their basic approach is gentle and circular, with what muscularity there is coming from electric piano and rockish guitar as much as from the horns. The album functions like one long invocation but, instead of disappointment at the lack of a main course at the end of this prayerful excursion, you'll probably just want to play it again.
The Grand Tour, George Jones (American Beat)---This 1974 album came out as Jones's marriage to his finest collaborator, Tammy Wynette, was falling apart. That gave added bite to the title track, a trip through a now empty home that's a little like listening to a drunk on a barstool, if that drunk happened to be one of the finest artists of the twentieth century. Jones knew his fans were always watching, which led him and Wynette to write "Private Lives," a novelty tune on the surface but really a profound meditation on what musicians endure in order to bring happiness to others. Throughout, Jones not only overcomes Billy Sherill's often cloying production but bends it to his will, making it a tool for even deeper emotional impact.
Let Us Get Together, Marie Knight (M.C. Records)---The great gospel/R&B/soul diva tries out a full set of country-blues holiness tunes, all associated with the great Rev. Gary Davis. It's her first album in 20 years and it's beautiful, the singing impassioned and powerful, the phrasing delicate and intelligent. Producer Larry Campbell, a guitarist, clearly loves Davis (though his playing more resembles Pops Staples), but not so much that he forgets to put Knight's showcase voice at the center. Highlights include "I'll Fly Away," "Death Don't Have No Mercy," and the title track, which is the social gospel incarnate, a vision of redemption as revolution, and heaven right here on planet Earth.
The Knife Feels Like Justice; Live Nude Guitars; Brian Setzer (American Beat)---Twofer of Setzer's first post-Stray Cats albums. Nude is mostly the Cats' style and themes, pumped up a bit sonically. Knife is something else again---a concept album where war and poverty are inseparable from rock & roll dreams and self-loathing. While religion is lightheartedly mocked on the rollicking "Three Guys," the main theme is money and/or the lack of it ("All the king's men have a summer house in France/But you and me live on the radiation ranch.") Setzer even casts himself in the role of a Mexican immigrant crossing into Texas on "Maria," a song whose power grows from the unspoken assumption that border crossers are right and their enemies are wrong. Aided greatly by Tommy Byrnes on guitar and Kenny Aronoff on drums, the former Stray Cat here fashions a timeless rock sound, nothing like the sounds of the past to which he subsequently soon returned.
Afro Blue, McCoy Tyner (Telarc)---Those unfamiliar with pianist Tyner could start with the classic albums he made over forty years ago with John Coltrane (My Favorite Things, A Love Supreme) and then move on to this collection of highlights from the past ten years. It includes excellent work with a trio (with Stanley Clarke), a quartet (with Bobby Hutcherson), and a quintet (with Terence Blanchard). Best of all are Tyner's Latin big band doing an epic version of Mongo Santamaria's "Afro Blue" and two solo piano explorations. As for the thirty-plus year gap between then and now, you can spend the rest of your life checking out the dozens of albums Tyner made in that interim. His probing intelligence and deep well of emotion, not to mention a certain pop sensibility, will consistently reward your quest.
Nil Recurring, Porcupine Tree (Transmission)---British band rises above the tyranny of material possessions on "What Happens Now?," yet searching for truth is hard when you're "Cheating the Polygraph" and "Stoned in the mall the kids play/And in this way they wish away each day." They rise above cynicism with the music---vaguely experimental hard rock that wanders in interesting ways only to always return to raging riff-heavy choruses. Very precise, layered production ultimately becomes almost invisible and forgotten, like foreplay when it gives way to the pressure drop of ecstasy.
Revival, John Fogerty (Fantasy)---Fogerty's back in closer control of his Creedence Clearwater material, and thus can give us "Creedence Song," a gem about what happens in a truck stop with "Lodi" on the box. The rest of the time, he opposes the war, sometimes with a degree of subtlety ("Gunslinger") but more often with the most outspoken material of his career: "Somebody Help," "I Can't Take It No More," and "Long Dark Night," each written with malice aforethought.
Folk Music, Deep Blue Organ Trio (Origin)---During a long-running residency at the Green Mill Tavern in Chicago (where the poetry slam was invented in 1986), these veterans--Chris Foreman, Bobby Broom, Greg Rockingham---forged a sound that's leaner and cleaner than the typical organ trio. They relax and play around with original blues, be-bop, and covers that range from the delicate (the Beatles' "She's Leaving Home") to the downright nasty (the Ohio Players' "Sweet Sticky Thing"). DBOT pulls you in bit by bit and those who are just mesmerized by that B3 sound won't ever want to leave.
Better Days The Encore, Lorenzo Owens (MusicMind)---You've been drinking in an upscale bar in Chicago for an hour or so, enjoying conversation with the guy next to you. He dispenses wit and wisdom on the foibles of romance. All of a sudden he strides to the small stage in the corner and begins to sing some heartfelt nuevo soul. What is this, karaoke night? Not even, as his songs aren't covers but smart takes on his barstool philosophizing, and a band shambles up from the crowd, most notably a very able acoustic/electric guitarist and a fine electric pianist. Turns out the barmaid can sing her ass off, giving Owens a run for his money at times. When it's over, you want to buy him a drink but he's nowhere to be found.
Rare and Unreleased Recordings from the Golden Reign of the Queen of Soul, Aretha Franklin (Rhino)---The title's a mouthful and the contents live up to its every implication. Opening with demos of "I Never Loved A Man" and "Dr. Feelgood," and including everything from Leonard Cohen's "Suzanne" to Little Willie John's "Talk to Me," there's a career for any ordinary singer in these 35 songs spread over two discs. The absolute apex is Aretha's brilliant version of "My Way," which takes everything about the song that's damnably corny and turns into it heavenly truth.
Block Ice and Propane, Erik Friedlander (Skipstone)---Listening to the first track, the muscular "King Rig," you think that you're hearing a very unusual acoustic guitar sound. It may be a few tracks later, or maybe only when you read the liner notes, that you realize that it's a cello being plucked and hammered by a very unusual virtuoso. This concept solo album is about the trips Friedlander took as a kid with his parents in a cramped trailer towed along the open roads of the west. Without vocals, he effectively conveys the landscapes, the campsites, the thrills and the boredom of such a journey on an album that is, to say the least, entirely unexpected.