THE LEFT BANKE - Walk Away Renée/Pretty Ballerina / The Left Banke Too

Pop began going for broke, or, should I say, baroque (pun definitely intended), in 1965, when The Beatles and Rolling Stones began incorporating classical music influences into songs like "In My Life" and "As Tears Go By".  Violins, harpsichords and brass were now added to the standard guitars/bass/organ/drums-oriented arrangements that had generally been favoured by groups up to that time. By the following year, the chamber-pop floodgates opened with a delightful deluge of ornately orchestrated pop/rock such as Bob Lind's lovely baroque/folk Top 40 smash "Elusive Butterfly", and The Beach Boys' immortal masterpiece, Pet Sounds.

A young band from New York City, The Left Banke also threw their hats into the baroque-pop ring and scored with not one, but two big Beatles/Zombies-flavoured hits, "Walk Away Renée" and "Pretty Ballerina". Their wonderful debut album from '67, titled after those tunes, as well as their almost equally sublime 1968 follow-up The Left Banke Too, have been unavailable for almost twenty years. Now, thanks to the fine folks at Sundazed, these LPs have been reissued in both CD and vinyl formats, and what a treat it is to delve into them!

Walk Away Renée/Pretty Ballerina is the more consistently satisfying album thanks to the uniformly high quality of its eleven cuts, ranging from the haunting ballads "Shadows Breaking Over My Head" and "Barterers And Their Wives", to such irresistibly uptempo tracks as "She May Call You Up Tonight" and "I Haven't Got The Nerve". Lead singer Steve Martin (no, not that Steve Martin) and teenaged keyboardist Michael Brown were mainly responsible for penning these yearningly romantic songs, stunningly conveyed by Martin's near-falsetto singing and the group's superb harmonizing. And while most of Walk Away Renée/Pretty Ballerina is made up of classically-influenced material, the fuzzed-out guitar on "Lazy Day" and the countrified twang of "What Do You Know" add some variety to the mix.  

By late '68, when the group's second  and final album was released, The Left Banke had seen the unfortunate departure of Michael Brown. Nevertheless, the group carried on without him, and, with future Aerosmith frontman Steven Tyler (!) contributing backing vocals on a few songs, came up with a strongly melodic follow-up to their debut. Although I can't say it quite reaches the heights of Walk Away Renée/Pretty Ballerina, The Left Banke Too contains one of the band's most essential numbers, "Desirée", my choice for one of the most gorgeous pop compositions ever put to disc. Other excellent cuts include the McCartney-like "There's Gonna Be A Storm" and "Bryant Hotel", and the dreamy "My Friend Today", which closes off the album beautifully with its orchestral sense of drama.

Despite its strengths, The Left Banke Too flopped commercially, and the group broke up shortly afterward. Over the years, though, their two albums began to attract many new fans who discovered and fell in love with The Left Banke's astonishingly high levels of singing, songwriting and musicianship. You can count Matthew Sweet and Belle And Sebastian's Stuart Murdoch among them, and you couldn't go wrong at all by lending your ears to the magical charms of both of these Left Banke records, finally hearing what all their baroque-pop fuss was—and is—all about.

HOWLIN' WOLF - The Howlin' Wolf Album

The full name of this album is This is Howlin' Wolf’s new album. He doesn’t like it. He didn’t like his electric guitar at first either—hardly a ringing endorsement for this record, recorded in November 1968 by the Chess subsidiary Cadet, which was attempting to bring its roster of classic bluesmen a new audience that may have been weaned on the blues but was moving into psychedelia and heavier blues-rock territory.

A month before Howlin' Wolf recorded this album, Muddy Waters released Electric Mud, convinced by Marshall Chess to capitalize on the new sounds emerging from England and the American west coast.  Though reception was mixed, Marshall went ahead and produced a similar record with Howlin’ Wolf with many of the same players.

For my money, compared to Electric Mud, this is the better album. Sure, Muddy had the mighty "Tomcat" on his side, but taken as a whole Wolf’s edgier approach was better suited to the 'heavy' treatment. He had already recorded these tunes numerous times before, including "Back Door Man", which he opens with a statement saying "the thing that’s going on today is not the blues—it’s just a good beat the people just carry, but now when you come down to the blues, I’m gonna show you how to play the blues". Aside from the fuzz tone, it’s the most traditional sounding tune on the record. Great as it is, it’s the rest of the album that points to a direction that the blues could have taken instead of the dead-end path electric blues followed instead.

"Smokestack Lightning" is built around an evil three-bar loping riff, while preserving the original tune’s eccentric yodel.  It’s one of many songs in which fuzz guitar and bass pummel the kind of unison lines that were becoming the common language of artists as disparate as The Meters, Sly Stone, Black Sabbath, Parliament/Funkadelic and Led Zeppelin. "Spoonful" is given an eerie effect when a muted spectral guitar lead plays in lieu of his vocal intonation of the title word. "Built for Speed" loses its shuffle and slows it down to a dirgier groove. From the juke joint to the marijuana joint, this was no longer Chicago boozecan blues, speaking instead to the deeply stoned spirit of the times. Check out the difference between the choogling "Moanin' at Midnight" original compared to the percussion-less drone found here to get a sense of how with-it the whole concept was.

We already know Wolf disowned the record, and the flippant cover statement didn’t help matters either.  In retrospect, though, it’s an amazing statement from one of the masters showing the young turks that he was still boss. 

NICK CAVE AND THE BAD SEEDS - Let Love In / Murder Ballads / The Boatman's Call / No More Shall We Part (reissues)

With the latest four reissues of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Mute puts the finishing touches on making their complete studio discography available to the masses. This is also probably the best entry point for anyone looking to get a firm grasp on their music. While their mid-'80s efforts might be too muddy or offputting for casual listeners, the combination of clean production and the trail set from Henry’s Dream and The Good Son (reissued last year) led to these next four albums, each critically acclaimed and containing some well-known duets, as well as staple tracks of their catalogue that you would recognize without even knowing it.

The beauty of these four albums is that they can be broken into two groups. Let Love In and Murder Ballads contain a healthy mix of brooding and sinister songs that build with an almost quiet intensity or just go for broke with a frenzy of noisy rock. While the lyrical content on Murder Ballads is self-explanatory, the lyrical content of Let Love In feels just as seedy, but with a touch more of lost love and songs rooted in self-deprecation (best shown with the bookending "Do You Love Me" parts one and two, and "Let Love In"). Not to be ignored are the two character pieces, "Loverman" and "Red Right Hand". These songs are essential to the feel of the album, giving us some of its loudest and quietest moments without ever losing their ferocity. Let Love In was their first album that really reached a large North American audience: "Loverman" was covered by Metallica, while "Red Right Hand" has the distinct honour of being used in both an X-Files episode and Dumb and Dumber.

While Murder Ballads shares tight production with its precursor, the overall sound is more in tune with Henry’s Dream, its approach being more acoustic and almost stripped down. This is the first and only album of Nick Cave’s to sport a "Parental Advisory" logo, though it has been removed for this reissue; let that set the tone for this macabre album. The songs range from almost tender and loving (most notably the duets with PJ Harvey and Kylie Minogue) to harsh and graphic ("Stagger Lee"). This album generated a lot of interest and acclaim, especially with the MTV crowd with the video for "Where the Wild Roses Grow." This album feels a little bit like the end of a chapter in the book of the Bad Seeds, but it goes out with a bang.

The album that would follow would surprise listeners. Instead of 52 minutes of songs describing characters from the darkest corners of the planet, we were given a piano-driven album full of soft sad songs full of introspection from the man in control. Using his failed relationships with PJ Harvey and the mother of his first-born son as inspiration and the feelings that came out of this, The Boatman's Call is a record unlike any other he had done at this point. If you take the prettiest parts of The Good Son and the song "Watching Alice" but drastically revamp the lyrical content, you can conjure up an idea of this album. It's hard to determine which songs are about PJ Harvey, but theres no doubt that "Black Hair" and "Green Eyes" are about her. This album is sad and there's no way around that. All you have to do is listen to the third track, "People Ain’t no Good" (or you can watch Shrek 2 and wait to hear it there). We wouldn’t hear again from Cave for four years.

After intense rehab stays for severe alcoholism and heroin addiction (an addiction Cave had gone back to since his days in The Birthday Party), Cave returned in 2001 with No More Shall We Pass. While this album is similar in sound to The Boatman's Call, it's more explorative with gorgeous female background vocals, piano-driven passages that feel more atmospheric, a solid helping of strings, and Cave exploring his vocal range with solid results. Taking all of these elements, it's safe to say that this is probably the prettiest album The Bad Seeds have made to date. While Cave’s lyrical approach still deals with personal loss and heartache, the feel here isn’t as hopeless as it was on his previous release, with bits of hope shining in and out throughout this almost 70-minute album.

Depending on if your musical preference lies in a prettier or noisier realm, with this round of remasters you’re guaranteed to at least an hour or two of top-notch songwriting from someone with severe staying power. Now in 2011, Cave is the only original Bad Seed left in the group due to Mick Harvey’s departure (you can find him on his latest solo album or on PJ Harvey’s latest release). Slowly reaching their 30-year mark, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds have failed to lose their touch, and you won’t find harder proof than these four new reissues.

BISHOP MANNING AND THE MANNING FAMILY - Converted Mind: The Early Recordings

This is one super cool release, one that seems to spit out endless new favourites every time I give it a spin. Coming off like a family-affair doppelganger to the Staple Singers, Bishop Manning and his family churned out positively righteous guitar-driven gospel soul in the '70s with the kind of fervour that only a born-again can deliver. 

Manning has a story that would sound like such a bad cliché were it not true. Born Dready Manning in North Carolina in 1934, he picked up the guitar at age 6 and eventually followed the familiar bluesman path of playing juke joints and drinking a whole lot of booze. That was until 1962, when he began spouting blood from the nose and hemorrhaging, only to be "saved" by the prayer of neighbours. By the mid-'60s, Manning had started the family business with his wife Marie and their five kids, sending his recordings to Hoyt Sullivan, a '70s gospel impresario who apparently told the family that the records were making no money, despite the opposite being true.

Still playing today, Manning must be very pleased to have this come out and, with hope, will make a couple of bucks from this 28-song collection rammed with sanctified greatness. The set is a major coup for Fat Possum, and will likely be a contender on year-end lists. Most songs here feature the avuncular Manning on vocals and his vibrantly bright-toned rhythm guitar sound, best heard on "I Wanna Thank You Jesus" and "Something Inside Of Me". He takes on the country gospel standard "I Am A Pilgrim", a childhood favourite of his, with aplomb, a song he loved from an early age that works perfectly with the rest of his down-home rural soul. He shakes thing up by allowing his family to take turns on the mike.  Wife Marie takes a couple of leads, and then there’s little Paul’s prepubescent rasp on "I Know You Been Good To Me". It’s all deliriously great stuff, and a gem well worthy of its resurrection. Best gospel reissue of the year? Nope. This is one of the best releases of the year, period. In Manning's words: Thank you, Jesus!

NICK LOWE - Labour Of Lust

There's been a bunch of awfully long reviews on this site lately, so let's keep things nice and direct on this one.

Do you like songs? Then buy this album.

(Too short?)

Honestly, you could argue that there's a lot to be said about Nick Lowe—a hugely underrated artist whose relative obscurity is surpassed only by his exceptional skill with a song. As the second in Yep Roc's reissues of Lowe's earliest solo LPs (the first being the reissue of 1978's Jesus Of Cool—our store's number one reissue of 2008), Labour Of Lust isn't nearly as sardonic as its predecessor, but is no less sharp or brilliant. Moving on from critiquing the music industry to examining affairs of the heart, Lowe's songs here are by turns full of humour, bravado, wistfulness and always have an insightful eye for the peculiarities of human behaviour. 

The crown jewel is, of course, "Cruel To Be Kind", a song so perfect in its every aspect that you could teach a whole course on songwriting from it. But there are no weak links here. As biting and wry as Lowe is throughout, he was no disrespectful punk—killer musicianship and tastes that range from country and AM pop, to R&B and bare-knuckle bar anthems make for a breathlessly brilliant half hour that references a broad spectrum of styles. Throughout it all, Lowe's quick wit and self-deprecating nature keeps the album's personality singular and endlessly charming.

For the uninitiated, Yep Roc's twin Lowe reissues are a gift from the gods. It's never too late to discover an album as great as this.

So, like I was saying: buy this album.

NEIL DIAMOND - The Bang Years 1966-1968

This one’s been leaving the store on a consistent basis, and the reasons are plenty. The only things you need to know, though, are that this is Neil Diamond, and that these are his first two albums, shuffled around from their original running order to best show off the talents of a young and hungry songwriter before he became overwrought and often schmaltzy. 

In the early '60s Diamond paid the bills as a hack songwriter, recording stray singles both as a solo artist and as half of Neil & Jack with Jack Packer. In 1966, with the help of Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich, he signed to Bang Records. With Barry and Greenwich also serving as his producers, Diamond’s songs and impassioned delivery guaranteed a string of hits in their own right, and a cache of songs that would be sung by countless others over the years. 

He hit the ground running, and in the time covered by his debut The Feel Of Neil Diamond and its follow-up Just For You produced a repertoire of pop standards that most musicians would love to have produced in their whole career, much less in the space of two years! Yes, you’ll know "Kentucky Woman", "I’m A Believer", "Red Red Wine", "Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon", "Monday Monday", "Cherry Red", "Solitary Man", and maybe more. 

Dissatisfied with his contract with Bang and feeling the need to move on from simple pop pleasures to a more introspective direction, he made a break for it, signing to a subsidiary of MCA and entering into years of legal disputes with Bang. From 1968 to 1973, Bang would find creative ways to reissue Diamond’s material in various forms, mangling the originals with overdubs, premature fade-outs, fake stereo, or different vocal takes. Happily, this reissue preserves "The 23 Original Mono Recordings", as the cover boldly states in its left margin.   

VA - Cartagena! Curro Fuentes & The Big Band Cumbia & Descarga Sound of Colombia 1962-72

Soundway strikes again with another mind-blowing Colombia-themed comp, this one purportedly a follow-up to Colombia! The Golden Age of Discos Fuentes, the set that helped kickstart the current wave of chic for música-costeña. The real follow-up has mysteriously been stuck in limbo for the last couple of years, with release dates coming and going every few months. In the meantime, we have more of a companion piece than a proper follow-up, as this release takes Curro Fuentes as its focus.

Curro was the youngest brother of Antonio Fuentes, big boss of the mighty Discos Fuentes, the label which dominated the Colombian industry and is responsible for shaping the sounds and trends of the country since its founding in the mid 1930s. Curro, 20 years younger than his more famous brother, formed his own label, Discos Curro, and with legendary merecumbé bandleader Pacho Galán he formed the imprint’s house band, Sonora Curro, and embarked on a career that kept the brothers and their respective labels on their toes in a friendly competition to put out the hottest records in Colombia. When Curro set up shop in Bogotá, he established a partnership with the Philips label, becoming artistic director and immediately setting out to work with the Lucho Bermudez. Much of the material comes from Curro’s Bogotá period.

The second main period comes from his return to the Caribbean coast, and features young bands that played the newer salsa sounds in the red-light district of Cartagena, including Los Seven del Swing, and groups led by Clodomiro Montes and Lalo Orozco. The introduction of the electric bass created a massive bottom end that drove the dancers and collectors wild.

Selected by a killer team of Miles Cleret, William Holland (DJ Quantic), Toronto DJ Sean Uppal, and regular liner note writer Roberto Ernesto Gyemant, the set features a wide range of sounds: cumbia, gaita, hard driving porro, salsa, and jamming descargas. It’s a cracking set that’ll warm up any party, and will tide us over quite nicely while we wait for the follow up to Colombia!, apparently slated for an October release. 

(Miles Cleret of Soundway Records will be special guest DJ at the next installment of Turning Point, taking place Sat. April 9th at the Garrison; tickets are $10 at the door only.)

VA - Brazil Bossa Beat! Bossa Nova and the Story of Elenco Records, Brazil

A perfect little label is what Elenco Records was, and in its short lifetime from 1963 to 1966 it produced a massively influential body of work that set new standards for bossa nova and the movements that would follow in its wake. Run by Aloysio de Oliveira, a former A&R man for Odeon and Philips, he started Elenco in direct opposition to the multinationals who despite having amazing artists stopped short of the breathtaking majesty that would set his records apart from theirs. 

After producing 60 records, many of them stone classics of Brazilian music, the label folded after helping launch the careers of Nara Leão, Edu Lobo, MPB-4, Quareto Em Cy, Baden Powell, and others. Because of its relatively finite catalog and remarkably high batting average in terms of quality, it should be recognized as one of the great indie labels, right up there with Studio One, Stax, and Rough Trade.  Unfortunately, Elenco has been largely unknown outside of Brazil. Hopefully this collection by Soul Jazz (the sister set to their equally tremendous and previously-reviewed Bossa Nova and the Rise of Brazilian Music in the 1960s) will help shed light on this criminally overlooked label.

Elenco first caught my eye in the late '90s, when their iconic black/red/white cover art caught my eye via two albums: Quarteto Em Cy’s self-titled 1966 album and Nara Leao’s 1964 debut. Both albums saw endless airplay at my house and set me off on a years-long obsession with the label (when my wife and I got engaged, we got a high-contrast photo of us and gave it to the designer of our invitation along with a half-dozen of our favourite Elenco covers for him to emulate!).

The care that went into the album covers, designed by Cesar Villela and photographer Francisco Pereira, is echoed in the music on each record. Oliveira’s team of arrangers were retro-modernists, not afraid to use an orchestra regularly but getting them to produce bold and at times outré arrangements. Elenco recordings are also marked by their flawless warmth of production.

The aforementioned albums by Nara Leão and Quarteto Em Cy are represented here. The latter’s "Amaralina" (incorrectly listed as "Amoralina"), with its unforgettable "shkin-deng-deng shkin-deng-dong" refrain, jazzily outdoes The Chordettes with an unexpected and otherworldly midpoint a capella re-harmonization of the first two lines that will blow your mind. Their version of "Canto de Ossanha" is pure harmony vocal heaven—fans of The Free Design, The Beach Boys, and The Beatles need to listen up. Nara Leão, the so-called "Muse of Bossa Nova" (see our review of Bossa Nova And The Rise Of Brazilian Music below), has three tunes from her debut here, including the first version of "Nana", which she snagged before Bola Sete even got a chance to write lyrics for it (she scats the melody instead).

The Brazilians are well known for their love of vocalese refrains, and Edu Lobo, a true giant of Brazilian music for so many reasons, was one of the greatest in this respect. His three featured songs are all part of the canon of '60s Brazilian music (“Reza”, “Upa Neguinho” and “Zanzibar”), and all include famous scat hooks.

This could have easily been a double-disc collection to accommodate more from MPB4 (their version of "Cravo e Canela" is arguably the best ever recorded), Baden Powell (proof that 'guitar virtuoso' and 'tasteful' are not mutually exclusive terms), Sylvia Telles (who established herself as a great singer before marrying Oliveira), and those throwbacks to a previous era who transitioned to the bossa era quite nicely (Lucio Alves, Sergio Ricardo). Then there are those who, probably due to licensing issues, recorded for the label but are not included here (hello, Antonio Carlos Jobim, Dorival Caymmi, Maysa, Maria Bethania, and Sergio Mendez).

This is a flawless set, though, and one that brilliantly follows up on an already great collection of Brazilian bossa nova. An early contender for my top spot for 2011 reissues; do your spirits a favour and pick this one up.

SNOWBLINK - Long Live

Dedicated followers of this space will know that the world of Soundscapes has been rather obsessed with this record as of late. The truth is, it's been with us for a lot longer than that. Although it's just recently celebrated its worldwide release, Long Live has been a consignment and merch table treasure for nearly three years now, and it's been very gently rocking our world (in a cradled-by-your-mom sort of way) ever since.

To say that this admirable little album has lost none of its lustre in the ensuing time is an understatement. Rather, its soft glow has only grown more entrancing and beguiling. In many ways, this slow build to prominence suits the act perfectly—this is a record that clearly has no issues with taking its time to make acquaintances.

Singer/songwriter Daniela Gesundheit is the person at the core of Snowblink. Her meandering journey to this point is one that has seen her come from California to Toronto (Seriously! In your face, L.A. music scene!), and share both the stage and studio with an impressive list of American and Canadian indie talent, including members of Dirty Projectors, Deerhoof, Vetiver, Ryan Driver, Owen Pallett and Broken Social Scene. But, lest that last name give you the impression that Long Live is some sort of everything-and-the-kitchen-sink indie love-in, guess again. Every ounce of this patient, luminous album feels as though it has been distilled like rose water from thousands of petals, leaving behind only the purest of moments.

Its take on folk and pastoral pop is hardly without precedent, but Gesundheit always comes across as though she's presenting her most honest side available. Nothing feels put-on and she is entirely unfamiliar with overstatement, with many tracks acting more as interludes that don’t even crack a minute in length. Even the most immediate and memorable parts of the album—like the rising, swirling coda of "Ambergris"—are less big moments than simply a longer, lingering assertion of Gesundheit’s comforting voice and relaxed way with a song.

Perhaps nowhere is this relaxed approach more evident than in how the album ends. Whereas most albums build to some sort of definitive conclusion, Long Live continues to catch me off-guard in how it just sort of stops without warning—even as the lovely echo of final track “The Haunt” pleads its strong case to stick around. It’s a funny, arty gambit, but if such an unexpected approach to rounding off her debut is meant to jar the listener into an immediate repeat visit to her world, then it's an astute move, for while Long Live may be an easy album to immerse oneself in, it’s far more difficult to walk away from.

THE RADIO DEPT. - Passive Aggressive: Singles 2002-2010

It was only last year that this Swedish pop act released one of the best records of the year—the gorgeous Clinging To A Scheme. That album introduced them to a slightly wider audience, which of course makes the timing of this release an easy thing to be cynical about: "Time to cash in boys, it's probably the best chance you'll get!"

Fair enough. But as someone who is admittedly one of those people who only came onside to the band last year—and, not to mention, also becoming increasingly less judgmental of such things as I get older—I say "Thanks!", because Passive Aggressive: Singles 2002-2010 makes an excellently concise 14-song argument for loving these guys, all while throwing in another 14 more B-sides to help reward the more loyal patrons of their brand.

And The Radio Dept.'s brand is one that has attracted such loyalty for good reason. The first disc here never once loses stride, opening with the gleefully fuzzed-out "Why Won't You Talk About It?" and skipping into the crisp basement gem "Where Damage Isn't Already Done" with effortless ease. What really stands out listening to these singles all in a row is how the band has found a way to grow in subtle ways despite working within an awfully narrow paradigm. All of these tracks bear similar trademarks, but where earlier statements tend to the simpler side (the delicate "Annie Laurie", the direct "Ewan"), later tracks gradually become more sinewy and layered, climaxing in the brilliant double shot of "David" and "Heaven's On Fire" off of last year's triumphant release. The shift isn’t dramatic by any means, but it’s there and a real testament to the way this band continues to improve.

At a whopping 28 tracks all together, hearing the two CDs in one sitting does risk the disservice of making The Radio Dept. seem more effete than they are. But what they lack in guts or daring, they've more than made up in startling consistency. Even the second disc of supposed ‘throwaways’ contains enough winners to make a great debut for some as-yet-unformed Slumberland act. Buy this and take notes accordingly, young popsters.

VA - Bossa Nova and the Rise of Brazilian Music in the 1960s

There have been a million bossa nova compilations released since the toned-down samba form came into existence in the late 1950s. Through the years, it has not been able to shake its perception as a cute and frivolously breezy soundtrack for cocktail parties. This is largely thanks to the disproportionate attention given to one song, "The Girl From Ipanema", and the moderately talented Astrud Gilberto, who happened to be in the studio when her husband was recording the tune with Stan Getz. From there, bossa as we know it became a very west coast cool jazz sound, codified into a 3-3-4-3-3 rhythmic pattern that was never indigenous to bossa in the first place and represented on collections by the same old five songs—you know them well: "Desafinado", "One Note Samba", "Wave", "Chega De Saudade", and of course, that darned "Girl From Ipanema". 

The scene in the 1960s was a lot more interesting than conservative compilers allowed us to know about, until the Acid Jazz scene really started to dig for obscurities in the '80s and '90s, before finally leading to a massive deluge of reissues in the late '90s and early 2000s.  During this time, collections of Brazilian rare grooves focused on the impossibly obscure, often, again, missing out on the narrative of bossa nova as it actually developed in Brazil. 

John Kong, label boss of Do Right Records, referred to this as a "bossa nova 101" collection, while browsing in our shop on one of his regular visits, and he’s right. What is most interesting is how this is, in my mind, the first of its kind to get it right by avoiding the false clichés of the genre while staying clear of the pitfalls of steering too heavily toward the hopelessly obscure. Having spent hundreds of dollars on this stuff before downloading put an end to the goldrush, most of this is familiar to me, but the sequencing, in-depth liner notes, and impeccable tracklisting from Gilles Peterson and Stuart Baker make this an essential reissue for collectors and newcomers alike.

One of the key indicators that this would be a solid set was the inclusion of the criminally overlooked Nara Leão, the beautifully fragile singer who arguably invented MPB (the rich open-minded popular music of Brazil of the past 40 years), and was so beloved by the tropicalistas for her forward-looking musical vision that they adopted it as a model for their progressive movement. (In fact, that’s her on the cover of Tropicalia: Ou Panis A Circenis, in a framed portrait held by Caetano Veloso.) Following her 1964 debut on the Elenco label (whose black, white and red iconography predates Jack White's by decades), she never stood still, constantly developing her style and always having the best choice of tunes; after all, her role as the 'muse of bossa nova' (her bourgeois background and spacious Copacabana apartment allowed her to regularly host most of the major figures of the second wave of bossa, where they would workshop their latest compositions and guitar tricks) put her in a position in which she could be the auteur of her artistic development. The same could never be said about Astrud Gilberto. 

Leão’s "Berimbau (Ritmo De Capoeira)" is her only track included, but her influence is all over it, a slightly darker and moodier version of bossa than you might be used to. Edu Lobo, who supported Leão when the bossa scene fractured into a politically progressive wing (represented by Leão and others) and another, more conservative one, shows up here with a version of "Ponteio" that is happily new to me.  He’s also got "Aguaverde", one of his many vocalese tracks. The Technicolor arrangements of Roberto Menescal light up the 5/4 "Inverno", while another track in 5, Wanda Sã’s delicious "Adriana", is a surprising but savvy inclusion. 

Goodness, I could go on and on about this stuff, but I’ll leave you to dig in yourself. I can only hope that this will set off a rash of reissues of originals that are patiently awaiting a second go at it. For now, please enjoy this absolutely essential 2CD package (alternatively available as two separate double-vinyl volumes), made even better if you pick up the eponymous companion oversize book, which documents the fabulous album art that gave a face to the rise of Brazilian music in the 1960s. Once again, Soul Jazz has set the bar high on this one, making this an early contender for best international reissue of the year.  

(Ed. note: We've also just received stock of the single-disc follow-up that supplements/accompanies this set, this time focusing solely on the Elenco roster, titled Brazil Bossa Beat! Bossa Nova and the Story of Elenco Records, Brazil.)

WILLIE WRIGHT - Telling the Truth

For Willie Wright to have recorded a spare soul-drenched folk album in a single-day session in 1977 New York, it’s hard to imagine he was hoping for renown stretching beyond the night spots and Nantucket yacht clubs where the travelling musician played at and sold this, his second album. 

Like many singers of his generation, Wright got his start in doo-wop groups before falling into the folk scene and recording an album in 1963 on Argo Folk, a subsidiary of Chess Records. In the intervening years between that album and Telling The Truth, he seemed to have developed a taste for faux island rhythms to add zest to his often meditative atmospheric folk. The arrangements here are super-lean, usually boasting little more than guitar commentary from The Jimmy Castor Bunch’s Harry Jensen, hippy-dippy flute, and light percussion with the occasional funky rhythm section on the more swinging tunes. Call it spiritual folk jazz, an unusual descriptor for sure, but one that only applies to a few 1970s artists, including Terry Callier, Jon Lucien, John Martyn, Eugene McDaniels, and Gil Scott-Heron. 

Not all is on the esoteric end of things: "I’m So Happy Now" swings nicely with the help of his daughter Sheila on vocals, while "Nantucket Island" ends up slightly more Caribbean than it should considering its subject, but so what? "Love is Expensive" brings a touch of reggae bounce, and on "Lady of the Year" and "Son, Don’t Let Life Pass You By", he’s a dead ringer for Lou Rawls. But it was his take on Curtis Mayfield’s “Right On For Darkness” that first caught attention of collectors. Not only is it included here on disc, but it’s also thrown in as a bonus functional 5" (!) vinyl single, backed with the self-identity-probing "Africa". 

Of course, this sold like hotcakes at dinnertime—a nice idea, but a bit on the later side of timing. Wright disappeared further into obscurity, never to record again, although the opportunity did arise in 1981 for another New York City session. (He never bothered to show up.) Diagnosed with Parkinson’s, he still writes today, but is long retired from live performance, so don’t hold your breath for a comeback.

VA - Angola Soundtrack: The Unique Sound Of Luanda 1968-1976

Much in the same way that the Next Stop...Soweto series re-shifted emphasis to the pre-'80s era of South African compilations, Angola Soundtrack seeks to redress the near-complete absence of any form of survey of the former Portuguese colony’s music scene in over a decade. Sure, Luaka Bop put out the respectable Afropea: Telling Stories To The Sea in 1995, which helped to spread the word about artists like Bonga, Waldemar Bastos, and the 'barefoot diva' Cesaria Evora, but in the years since then, collectors of African music have become less interested in the slick studio productions of the '90s and more drawn to the sounds of the classic period of the late '60s and early '70s. No surprise, then, that Analog Africa has stepped up with another platter, holding an edge over their competition by revealing an underrepresented corner of the continent, and not simply cranking out yet another Nigerian or Ghanaian comp (though that’s not necessarily a bad thing!).

Similar to what was happening elsewhere in Africa, Angolans in the period covered by this set were concerned with gaining independence from their colonizers, asserting their African-ness while showing their with-it-ness by taking traditional sounds and instruments and combining them with electric guitars, as well as rhythms from both Cuba (“Mi Cantando Para Ti” by N’Goma Jazz being an obvious example) and their colonial Lusophone cousins in Brazil. The influence of the latter can be felt in the near-batucada breakdown on Os Bongos’ “Kazucuta,” a floor-shaker that proves there is more to Angola than the morna (most closely comparable to the Portuguese fado in its minor-key anguish). Os Korimbas also go for the pounding percussion workout with their “Semba Braguez,” semba being an antecedent of the Brazilian samba.

Many of these musicians recorded in local languages instead of Portuguese, describing everyday life while not delving too heavily into politics, even though the country was embroiled in a guerilla war that did not let up until independence was won in 1975. No, the key here is to induce dancing, and in that respect this collection is a total success. As a bonus, compiler Samy Ben Redjeb was able to secure full licensing for all tracks and had access to master tapes, guaranteeing gorgeous fidelity from bassy bottom to shekere-rattling top. The liner notes are among the best the label has penned, combining crate-digging travelogues from Redjeb with historical context from academic Marissa Moorman, along with detailed track-by-track analyses filled with first-hand accounts from the musicians, many of whom contacted Redjeb to tell their stories.

Of all of the African collections put out in 2010, this latecomer is quite possibly the best of the lot!

JIM SULLIVAN - U.F.O.

There is a lot of confusion over Jim Sullivan, the most banal being that he is not Big Jim Sullivan, the British session guitarist extraordinaire who played on around 1,000 hit singles (and also dabbled in some go-go sitar albums in the late '60s).  No, this is the American Jim Sullivan, who moved to L.A. with his wife in 1968, recorded his private-press debut LP U.F.O., and then, with his marriage on the verge of collapse in 1975, headed out to Nashville and simply disappeared. His abandoned VW was found on a desert road; his guitar, wallet, and other belongings were left behind in a hotel.

Like Connie Converse, another enigmatic songwriter who also disappeared without a trace after driving off in a Volkswagen (just a year before he did!), Sullivan remains one of those musicians who really deserved greater renown but simply got lost in the shuffle in the deluge of incredible music made during that goldmine time for rock. Stylistically, he shares similarities with Tim Hardin, especially vocally, and would typically accompany himself with only guitar whenever he played live. The difference, though (and this may be the power of suggestion at play here, considering his probable demise), is that there is an understatedly ominous vibe that colours this record with the sort of unease that accompanies ghost stories told in the dark.

On the U.F.O. sessions, his distinctively deep voice and guitar playing were augmented by Wrecking Crew players Jimmy Bond (bass), Earl Palmer (who drummed on Little Richard’s “Tutti Frutti” and The Righteous Brothers' “You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feelin’”), and Don Randi (who played keys for Phil Spector and on The Beach Boys’ “Good Vibrations”). It’s this combo of killer playing and Bond’s orchestrations that place this album in similar territory as such genre-defying works of psych-folk orch-funk as David Axelrod's Song Of Innocence and Songs Of Experience (on both of which Earl Palmer also drummed!), as well as Jean Claude Vannier’s arrangements for Serge Gainsbourg; folkies and beat-diggers alike therefore have much to sink their teeth into with this one.

Every year lost albums are unearthed, though few of them merit much airplay. This past year, impossibly obscure albums by Ted Lucas, Robert Lester Folsom, and Pastor T.L. Barrett were all saved from oblivion by intrepid reissue labels.  Sullivan's only effort is pretty near tops in that category, and deserves the scant but fervent attention it has received since resurfacing. In the meantime, the mystery of its author’s fate remains unsolved.

SYL JOHNSON - Complete Mythology (6LP + 4CD box set)

When Numero Group put out the Twinight instalment of their ongoing Eccentric Soul series in 2007 and left out unappreciated soul giant Syl Johnson, eyebrows were raised. One way of looking at the omission was that maybe the artist better known for his Hi recordings was just too big to fit Numero’s mandate of bringing attention to complete obscurities, which Johnson certainly is not. That licensing issues may have also kept such wonderful material off that excellent compilation was another potential answer. Then there was the slight possibility, that glimmering hope, that the revered reissue label were holding back with something truly special.

Three years later, not only have Numero delivered the goods on Syl Johnson's Twinight material, but they've gone far beyond what any soul fan could have hoped for and put together a package that also gathers the rest of his pre-Hi material in a gorgeous 4CD and 6LP box! From the '50s to the '70s, Johnson’s earlier career is covered across his many homes including King/Federal, Shama, TMP/Ting, Zachron, One-Derful, Cha Cha, Special Agent, Trip, and P-Vine. The vinyl gives you the two Twinight LPs with original album art, plus four more slabs collecting singles from the remaining labels. It’s all reproduced on the CDs, and comes with a book of detailed discographic/biographic information, including interviews with the man himself. The price is excellent too, considering the kind of archaeology and investment it would take to amass a similar collection in original form.

And the music? Over the years, hip hop producers and soul aficionados have propelled Syl Johnson to cult status, thanks to a career that spanned late '50s R’n’B to classic funky '70s soul. Well-covered songs like “Is It Because I’m Black?”, and beats that have been plundered endlessly for samples, have secured him a very special place in the hearts of soul fans (certainly a much bigger one than when he recorded this material).

This one’s a treat for sure, and a perfect gift for the holiday season.

VA - The World Is A Monster: Lonesome, Blue And Jump Jivin' Hillbillies From The Columbia Vault 1948-1958

The last time a comp of country nuggets knocked me off my feet like this one was when RPM put out the stunning Double Up & Catch Up: Hillbilly Bop’n’Boogie 1950-1958, back in 2004. That disc showcased insanely catchy tunes from the powerhouse country wing of Capitol Records, and made a convincing claim that rockabilly was more a punked-up form of hillbilly music with an rhythm and blues influence than a fusion of the two.

Omni’s similar turn scopes the Colombia catalogue for the hidden gems they have unearthed in their ongoing quest to dig up the best of vintage country music.  There are few tinkling pianos, and absolutely no lush strings and smooth crooning backing vocals here in this pre-Nashville Sound set. This is the time when fiddles, pedal steel and stand-up bass still formed that backbone of any hillbilly or honkytonk band, and this expertly selected collection generously puts forth one jaw-dropper after another.

Rockin’ dance numbers abound from The Country Boy’s instrumental “Bud’s Bounce” to The Maddox Brothers’ reliably belligerent party chug-a-lug “Ugly and Slouchy”. Baby sister Rose Maddox delivers a weepy waltz with “When the Sun Goes Down”, as does Freddie Hart on the gorgeous “Blue”. Elsewhere, we find deep twang and dissonance on the great Johnny Bond’s “All I Can Do Is Cry” and the cautionary anti-rambling ditty by Rocky Porter that provides this set with its name.

The esteemed Bear Family’s single-artist series Gonna Shake This Shack Tonight mines similar territory, while their ongoing Dim Lights, Thick Smoke And Hillbilly Music, a by-the-year history of country music from 1945 on (their just-released last 5 volumes bring us to 1960), is an invaluable resource for newcomers and collectors alike. But at 32 tracks—all remastered from the orginal tapes, many of which are making their digital debut—The World Is a Monster is a perfect one-stop shit-kicking country bonanza!

BOB DYLAN - The Bootleg Series Vol. 9 -The Witmark Demos: 1962-1964 / BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN - The Promise

Unreleased demos and shelved recordings aren't supposed to be essential. That's the reason they weren't released in the first place, right? Sure, a golden moment may lurk here and there—an orphaned chestnut of a track that simply made its parent recording too long or didn't match the pacing or theme of a proposed full-length. But we've seen enough lame-duck double-album collections of kitchen scraps and cutting-room floor casualties to know that, in the end, these are just thinly veiled cash grabs.  

Well, The Witmark Demos and The Promise—two such releases from Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen, respectively—aim to challenge that notion with collections of songs that offer more than just insight and education: they're also damn enjoyable to hear, regardless of the context of historical significance.

Both sets examine a formative time for each artist: Dylan being in the throes of finding his own voice beyond being a simple mimic of Guthrie and folk/blues songwriting; Springsteen working to further his also Guthrie-informed (but far more populist and anthemic) rock music with a more personal and direct eye. The full-lengths that came from these time periods—Dylan's first four LPs and The Boss' landmark Darkness At The Edge Of Town—speak volumes about the successful end results. As it turns out, the process itself wasn't so bad either.

Of the two releases, The Promise is the one that contains the more complete 'lost' album. With bonafide hits (and live staples) "Because The Night" and "Fire" leading the singles charge, a solid core of tracks such as "One Way Street", the Phil Spector swoon of "Someday (We'll Be Together)", "Gotta Get That Feeling" and "Ain't Good Enough For You" form the heart of what would've been a very good record. But what is immediately noticeable about these songs is how they differ from the overall timbre of Darkness. In this context, as good as they are, it's easy to see why Springsteen either gave them to other artists (Patti Smith, The Pointer Sisters), or left them behind completely.

The rest of The Promise consists of songs that would either have worked well on Darkness—closer "City Of Night", in particular—or would actually grow and evolve into some of the new album's tracks. What makes these latter songs really worthwhile though, is the fact that they're not just poorer recordings of the eventual final cut. They show genuine experimentation on the part of Bruce and The E Street Band. Here, "Racing In The Street '78" has a very different verse chord progression and prominent fiddle solos. In contrast, Darkness' version boasts a more sombre progression and leaner arrangement. "Candy's Boy" is a mellow jaunt of a prequel to the later album's firecracker, "Candy's Room". And what turns into Darkness' eloquent working man's tale, "Factory", is here seen as a plea for a night on the town, "Come On (Let's Go Out Tonight)". An attentive ear will even catch hints that look further into Springsteen's future—"Spanish Eyes" has a first couplet identical to "I'm On Fire" off of Born In The U.S.A. 

Even better, all of these songs sound full, rich, and completely realized—it is only the presence of Darkness that makes them in any way incomplete or transitory. (Even if The Boss did cheat a bit by polishing a few of these songs up just before this release, the result is still stunning.)

The Witmark Demos, as the title suggests, is not nearly as refined. It's rough, scratchy and loose. And at 47 songs, it is frankly easy to get a little lost in. But its pleasures, while different, are many. For starters, it's startling to hear Dylan on the edge of what would soon be. Throughout the many tracks, he pushes and pulls at the folk form like Play-Doh, searching for and imploring his own unique voice to emerge. Early tune "Hard Times In New York Town" is purely a reflection of what Seeger and Guthrie have molded for him. That the same young kid would also soon write "Blowin' In The Wind" and "Don't Think Twice, It's Alright" (both of which appear here) clearly shows how far Dylan came in a very short period.

This fact isn't really a shock, though. We all know the guy started out somewhere. But there's a far greater pleasure to be had here than that. Dylan as we have come to know him for the past five decades is a brilliant but cantankerous, willfully obscure artist—basically too smart for and distrusting of the rest of us to ever let us in too far. But the demo nature of these recordings allows us to see a part of the man long lost to time. This Bob Dylan chuckles, coughs, jokes and sings with a casual air that is almost unrecognizable as the same man. 

And really, I guess, that's because he isn't the same man. In the wake of these demos and the subsequent albums, Dylan changed—both from within and without—to become the 'Judas' of the very forms he'd come to perfect and champion. If you look closely, there are hints of that inevitable betrayal all over The Witmark Demos—hints that this style will only satisfy his mind for so long before he seeks to burn down the temple and rebuild it again and again in new forms. But for this moment, Dylan is still a student. Take a look while you can. The moment doesn't last. 

DOLLY PARTON - The Fairest Of Them All/My Favorite Songwriter, Porter Wagoner / PORTER WAGONER - What Ain't To Be, Just Might Happen

Three key reissues of 2010 are to be found in this pair of discs from the Omni Recording Corporation, featuring 1972 releases from Porter Wagoner and Dolly Parton. At this point in their inextricably linked careers, they had already recorded a half-dozen duet albums together. His highly prolific career was still strong in its third prolific decade when he recorded What Ain’t To Be, Just Might Happen; hers was still in its ascendency when she paid full-length tribute to him with My Favourite Songwriter, Porter Wagoner.

Five years earlier, Porter gave Dolly her big break, inviting her on his TV and road show following the departure of erstwhile partner Norma Jean after a failed romance. (Adding insult to injury, Norma Jean is sometimes thought of as a Dolly copycat, though the former’s career and style was established first.) Wagoner even put his royalties on the line as a guarantee in order to convince RCA to sign his ingénue. His risk was a safe one, though, and by the time these recordings were released, her sales had surpassed his and were about to go through the roof.

Both artists complement each other perfectly, and comparing their versions of “What Ain’t to Be, Just Might Happen”, “Comes and Goes”, and the classic “Lonely Comin’ Down” reveals a pair of singers that are quite distinct, yet cut from the same proverbial cloth. The push and pull between light and dark shows up with both artists’ treatment of unusual subject matter, as does the development of complex and vivid characters for their song narratives. Dolly’s 1970 album The Fairest of Them All is paired up with My Favorite Songwriter for this reissue, and puts her own songwriting style on display, dealing with controversial themes of incest (“Chas” and “Robert”) and teenage pregnancy on “Down from Dover”.  For his part, Porter is no stranger to strange themes, and the inimitably surreal “The Rubber Room” is one of the most bizarre records of the '70s country canon.

Following these albums, Dolly struck gold with 1974's Jolene, which spawned the title track plus “I Will Always Love You”, a love letter to Porter which also bade their relationship farewell. She quit his road show to form her own Travellin’ Family Band that same year. Wagoner sued her for breach of contract and settled before recording one more duets album, albeit tracked separately.

Together, these releases contain 53 songs (there is a wealth of bonus material on the Porter disc), nearly two and a half hours of music, and loads of detailed liner notes from the Omni gang. Essential material from both Dolly and Porter.

JIM GUTHRIE - Now, More Than Ever (Expanded Edition)

Where does the time go? Has it already been seven years since we last heard from Jim Guthrie? Of course, we haven't been completely devoid of his music. He collaborated with Nick Thorburn in Islands back in 2005, and then paired up again for Human Highway in 2007 (where his contributions really are worth hearing for any starved fans). There was also last year's excellent rarities compilation from his old band Royal City, and if you were really paying attention, you may have heard his distinct vocals and arrangements in the odd television commercial or movie soundtrack. However, the world has been waiting for another solo album proper, and though this isn't it, the expanded reissue of Now, More Than Ever still deserves our attention.

Born and raised in Guelph, ON, his first two full-lengths (1999's A Thousand Songs and 2002's Morning Noon Night, which followed a number of independent cassettes) were lo-fi pop done right. Using an interesting array of instruments (most notably an original Playstation console), Guthrie developed an utterly unique sound, one which he abandoned nearly altogether for his third album. Bringing in a band made up of fellow Royal City member Simon Osbourne, Evan Clarke (ex-Rockets Red Glare), multi-instrumentalist Mike Olsen and Owen Pallett (pre-Final Fantasy), Guthrie completely dropped his lo-fi electronic sound in favour of something far more lush. Pallett in particular shines throughout—his violin arrangements nearly steal the show, especially on the instrumental title track. Still, the lyrics are the real prize here; Guthrie is an expert at saying a lot by with a little. On opener "Problem With Solutions", he sings "the longer the hesitation, the smaller the celebration." Seven years on, those words still resonate—don't hesitate any longer, get this album now.

GARY LEWIS - Listen!

Teenybop pop performer Gary Lewis was one of the kids able to use his showbiz connections to gain a foothold in the mid-Sixties music scene (Gary's father was none other than Jerry Lewis). While other aspiring singers took advantage of "Hollywood nepotism", Lewis possessed a decent (if somewhat nasal-sounding) voice, and, with the help of producer Snuff Garrett, scored some now-classic Top 40 hits, the best of which was "This Diamond Ring". By 1967, his budding career as a pop/rock chartbuster had screeched to a stop, on account of Lewis having been drafted by the bad ol' Uncle Sam. Nevertheless, with brilliant arranger Jack Nitzsche and Wrecking Crew session players on board, Gary cut the album Listen!. Released in October 1967 and easily the best thing he ever lent his voice to, the record was met with a resounding...thud.

Listen! album-buyers sadly did not, preoccupied with the groundbreaking LPs that the likes of The Beatles, Jefferson Airplane, and The Doors were putting out, along with bubble-garage records by The Monkees, who easily replaced Gary Lewis and his erstwhile group, The Playboys, in teenagers' affections. Which was a real doggone shame, because Listen! is THE orchestral pop jewel in Lewis' catalog. Kicking off with the finest song Brian Wilson never wrote, the gorgeous ballad "Jill", the album also contains convincing covers of The Lovin' Spoonful's "Six O'Clock" and not one but two Tim Hardin compositions. Alongside "Jill", the talented songwriting team of Alan Gordon and Gary Bonner contributed three other standout tracks on Listen!.

Gary Lewis' vocals never sounded better than on this disc, as he toned down his adenoid tones and sang in the softer style the songs' lush settings required. Despite flopping commercially at the time, the sheer pure pop power of Listen! can now be fully enjoyed on this delightful reissue, which includes both mono and stereo mixes, as well as comprehensive liner notes.