For most Americans (especially the shiny, young generation which uses the films of Wes Anderson as gateways to the hidden world of art houses), Seu Jorge is primarily thought of as the Brazilian man who did those Bowie covers. And while several of those covers – especially “Rebel, Rebel” – are worth the hype and attention given to them, it’s still a shame that Jorge’s original music isn’t noticed as much as it should be. Perhaps it’s because most music listeners always gravitate …

This DVD made me throw up a little in my mouth when I watched it. I know. I know. Happy Mondays have this huge cult following; I’ve even done research on it to see how there could possibly be more than two people who admire this music and this “band” legitimately. But it’s true. They’re out there. I don’t understand the music, I don’t see any talent, or hear any for that matter, and I’m awestruck that these musicians can actually sell tickets to …

The histories of country and soul music have always run parallel. Both emerged from the lower-class environs of the Deep South in the early 20th century, blending varying amounts of blues, jazz, gospel, and Appalachian folk music to achieve two discrete concoctions whose surface distinctions — mainly bound to race — only served to mask identical hearts. Over the years, more musicians than can be named here have recognized these crucial similarities; from the “Cosmic American Music” of Gram Parsons and the Flying …

Lately, it seems like everywhere an indie kid goes, they can find a freak-folk record. The music which was once associated with jugs, long beards, and county fair performances to which a misguided parent dragged you, has suddenly become strangely hip. Yet this growing interest in the freakier side of folk music rarely extends to the straight Americana and world-based folk from whence it came. Hopefully, the latest release from Tompkins Square, Imaginational Anthem, Vol. 2, will help shake off some more …

Conventional wisdom says that the ’80s weren’t kind to rock. For the most part, that’s a bit of an exaggeration; any decade which managed to yield classic albums like Fire of Love, Rain Dogs, Imperial Bedroom and Surfer Rosa couldn’t be all bad. What the ’80s really weren’t kind to, however, was Rock with a capital “R”: those graying, fading superstars who had seemed so hip and dangerous in the 1970s, only to be revealed ten years later as charlatans in banana-yellow slacks. …

Whenever the average music listener thinks of a man named King associated with the blues, it’s always B.B. gracefully brandishing his Lucille. And there’s not really a problem with that, B.B. King is the living king of modern blues, after all, but if ever there was a blues King who deserved to be noticed, it’s another man named Albert.
Albert King’s unique guitar style makes him perhaps the most distinctive guitarist of the blues pantheon; he was a left-handed guitar player who never restrung his …

We, the collective audience, love pop culture dynasties. Perhaps the appeal is in the idea that the level of talent that allows one to rise to the heights of stardom is not something that can be learned or even a matter of universal randomness. Rather, it is a genetic trait – something that can only be passed from the blessed few on to their blessed children. So sayeth the gospel of LA. Whatever the case, our entertainment history books are littered with the names …

Lately I’ve been reading Bob Dylan’s memoir, Chronicles. It’s fascinating stuff, of course; a vivid, evocative portrait of the artist’s formative years. But what really gets me is the way he tells it. Dylan’s prose — the breathless rush of words, the exuberant citing of influences from Hank Williams to Balzac — perfectly captures the feelings of a young, hungry, and unbelievably talented poet, hurtling forward to his artistic peak.
At times the youthful folksinger seems literally aflame with a kind of Biblical portent: …

If you’ve never heard Sly & The Family Stone’s There’s a Riot Goin’ On before, I suggest you go do so immediately. I think it’s an album that everyone can get the same vibes from: hazy, fuzzy, depressing, a funk record with a tone so different from other funk records that it’s always surprising. There’s a Riot Goin’ On is simply end-of-an-era coked out genius – and if any one of Sly & The Family Stone’s albums deserves a book written about …

Maybe it’s because I wear hornrims and have a closetful of ironic T-shirts that I can be so judgmental. Or maybe it’s society that’s made me that way. It could have been all those episodes of Seinfeld I watched during my formative years. Or perhaps I’m just naturally inclined to be a bastard. I don’t know. But every once in a while, even I can’t bring myself to judge; every once in a while, I come across a person who I should naturally dislike, …