Reviews

Blinding and spiritual, one of the best British singers finally delivers a full-blooded, heavy-on-the-hits concert album.

An impressive - and depressive - upgrade of Polish post rock singularity. Now, things get in order.

As far as vents for personal matters go, nothing beats a one-man band, and Rafal Zak, this project's mastermind is blessed with a gift of doing everything music-wise. While his previous albums, "Disorder In My Head" and "Labeled Out Loud", showed a tendency for escaping chaos, "Me 2.0" allows the auteur to shake a (computer) chip off his shoulder. Zak braces it all between "Outdated" and "Something New", whose delicate beats create a hushed buzz to drown the voice in slow, monumental guitar riffs that gain pace and catchiness along the way, but serene moments like those piano splashes carrying "Homesick" are rare breed here.

Pouring gloom into the solemn stream of "Don't Look Back", a funereal dirge rather than a ballad to make OPETH fans flow in flocks, the composer knows how to grip the listener's soul. He does so in the urgent title track where his instrumental prowess hits a molten apex, and if a tentative tune makes "Unbirthday" lose its momentum, the rise comes with an orchestral sway to take it all to the pastures of prog - and back again. In terms of constant self-perfection, "Me 2.0" strikes many a good note.

****

A quarter of century down the road, the barren land becomes inhabited.

The hardest working man in show business this side of Bug 2000 and bitten by it, recently Steven Wilson's been regarded as a studio boffin, what with PORCUPINE TREE planted on ice and remixing of prog classics in full bloom. His usual role as a singing frontman is thrown aside, though, the auteur finds his hands, and mind, footloose and free for collaborations, of which the most durable is the one with Tim Bowness, under a NO-MAN banner. Bowness handling vocals and Wilson the guitar, the duo started off in 1987 and lodged six albums into the post rock's collective consciousness but have always sounded a bit sterile in their math approach, a notion discarded in October 2011 when the expanded ensemble took to the stage of the Leamington Spa Assembly whence this CD/DVD set comes from. Live, for the first time on record, they cut it fine.

A slice of full-blown rocking saved for the final part of the show, the tellingly titled "Things Change", the Britons crawl into the audience's psyche gently, the blissful, gliding chords and delicate voice unleashing "My Revenge On Seattle" in vibrant, romantic passes that are fleshed out when the entire band join in and the picture gets sharp. The focus is especially bright once Steve Bingham's violin and a six-string wave carry "All The Blue Changes" to the folksy whirlwind and spice up the picking of "Lighthouse". For enjoyable contrast, the metallic riffs of another American-themed composition, "Time Travel In Texas", gain a fearful gloom in the absence of studio sheen: no danceability here, even the previously unreleased "Beaten By Love" which harks back to the duo's early era keeps its predatory coils close to the ground. Yet "Mixtaped" soars, slowly but surely, its thick desperation level upped high in concert environment to hit hard.

An obvious update on NO-MAN's previous work, this performance, available for a meatier experience on bonus DVD, enriches Bowness and Wilson's oeuvre and fills it with life. A milestone on the road to be continued.

****

Getting better by the year: blues veterans' bid for timelessness and immortality.

Their two albums, out in 1969 and 1970, cherished as minor classics now, only a few fans could believe KILLING FLOOR's short span would relapse in 2003 and even fewer might hope "Zero Tolerance" could be followed up. Yet here it is, a new missive from the original band - minus pianist Lou Martin - who sound even fiercier than ever before: quite fitting for our harsh times where Bill Thorndycraf's raw, parchment-dry voice is a powerful force. The quartet tackle the world's injustices in the organ-oiled "Same Booze Different Bottle" and even sharper in the insistent beat of "Xenophobic Blues", so there's a palpable sense of a life lived and tradition sunk in.

There's a beauty in claustrophobia if somebody adorable gets close to you.

Spaced out but not out there, another marvelous crusade of the Caped Wizard.

If the myriad of Rick Wakeman's studio works requires a guide for the uninitiated to not be playing a hit-or-miss game, the keyboardist's live recordings are always listener's gain. So while 2003's "Out There" is a quirky concept confection, on the road its excerpts lent themselves to a context which mixed time-tested classics with a newer material. Choosing from his vast catalogue never was a challenge for Rick, what with his improvisational bent, yet the situation Wakeman started that UK tour in was. Shortly before the first gig Damian Wilson, who sang on the album, vanished and, although a purely instrumental performance didn't pose a problem, the piano man called his choice voice Ashley Holt to step forward as he did many times before and supplant the suppleness of his predecessor with refined muscularity. Hence the title of this CD, a document of their heroics.

Both veterans are in their dramatic element on "No Earthly Connection" here, yet the main thread during those concerts was cosmic-centered - not for nothing Wakeman reimagined Steve Howe's "Wurm" and gave much string reins to Ant Glynne - so two fresh cuts, grand rockers "Out There" and the choir-enhanced "Cathedral In The Sky", provide a lot of space for the guitarist to fly. He does just that on the opener "Catherine Parr" that is expanded with the unreleased "Beware Your Enemies" where synthesizers take over from the organ, before drummer Tony Fernandez and bassist Lee Pomeroy give rhythms an impressive weight to which Holt's heavy lungs contribute nicely. Much lighter fares their groove on the slinky "White Rock" and "The Dance Of A Thousand Lights", led by Rick's elegant piano and faux orchestra and quoting the original "Journey". Such curious selection of tracks makes this album very interesting but the ensemble's delivery turns it into a celebration of sound.

A British stargazer looks back on his glorious past to shine a new light on its recesses.

A world-class banjoist pledges allegiance to the power of blues and then some.

No revolution, just a Bay Area auteur coming into his own and venturing out into the wide world to tune its wrongs right.

A Berklee graduate with BA in Music Therapy and Songwriting Ian Franklin knows the healing power of melody too well; more so, by linking up with Boston's groovers INFINITE FREQUENCY the Californian creates a sort of Route 66 in stylistic terms. As a result, his debut full-lengther, though long enough and spanning 15 tracks, never stays in one place in terms of diversity and takes the listener on a riveting journey. And if some of his songs are expansive in context or length, it's always relevant - the silky nine minutes of "Steep Ravine (Oceanside)", full of Laurel Canyon harmonies and a six-string adventure, plumb the titular emotional depth - but never tiresome, so the reggae of "Step By Step (We Will Overcome)" urges everyone to go forward at reasonable pace. Which might be this album's motto.

Starting with jazzy boogie of "Closer", it rapidly throws the demimonde sleaze out the window to catch it back in a brass-blaring title track and keep in this night-club loop the bass-spanked "Don't Do Me Like That" and "Baby I Got Your Fix", high on falsetto-specked soulful funk that MAROON 5 fiends will love, and the organ-rolled skank through "Better Days", all demonstrating the flexibility of Franklin's voice. Its use as another instrument reaches the dizzying heights in the progressive fusion of "Light Above" where Ian's guitar soars, Icarus-like, to the sun and welcomes blues for a flight, whereas the acoustic flow of "Lie Is A Lie" shimmers softly sometimes rippling with a riff. Never reckless or risky but oozing class up to the sad smile in "Back To Love", it's a heart-warming and life-affirming record, a therapy of high caliber and likable fiber.

****4/5

The Django tradition lives on and is passed on - across the Channel too.

Gypsy swing is a strange term as jazz doesn't have so much connection with a traditional Roma music, yet since Monsieur Reinhardt brought his acoustic to a wide audience a new thread has been woven into European fabric. Yet two Plymouth musicians, Rich Hamer who runs his own guitar school and Julian Isaacs, prefer to weave their cloth in a good company of a double bass and a double-barrel vocal that make the staples they deliver playful and charming, if hardly too imaginative as "Ain't Misbehavin'" suggests, although "Sheik Of Araby" is given a nice jive-and-scat here.

The stand-out cut on this six-track sample of the ensemble's live repertoire is a Disney classic "The Bare Necessities", or "Bear Necessities", which the voice of Rosie Corlett takes from Baloo's vaudeville to the cabaret smoke, while "I Can't Give You Anything But Love, Baby" gets fizzy-fuzzy on a six-string crunch and a violin seduction. "After You've Gone", the earliest selection on offer, written back in 1918, was, in his time, recorded by Django to bring the best out of Isaac's rhythm and Hamer's lead now: that's where the two go out on a limb and succeed. This combo can make a good night out much better but the greatest challenge would be to hear their own material amongst the perennials.

***

An unholy creative marriage of YES' bassist and ex-GENESIS guitarist bears sweet and well-laced fruit.

The Purple Piledriver regains the long-abandoned territory to make the burned ground bloom again.

Reimagining their cult classic, former PRETTY THINGS fortify it in the process to take far beyond the original concept.

In 1970, when Phil May-led hairy bunch delivered their fifth LP, it sounded like a relic from a couple of years before but it was meant to be that way - a wail for the sunshine dream falling to pieces as reflected through acoustic lace, silky harmonies and some riffs. Four decades on, four musicians who played in the band at the time of "Parachute" release decided to try and land the album somewhere else, yet primary vocalist May, having given his blessings and additional lyrics, bailed out. Perhaps, for good as rougher pipes of Wally Waller whose bass carried the original carcass and keyboardist Jon Povey give a "Reborn" cut the edge which was only hinted at initially, with an abbreviation of the "ex-PRETTY THINGS" moniker quite fitting to the compacted ensemble.

Such maturity suits them, and the material, fine, "The Good Mister Square" acquiring the seasoned, rather than simply nostalgic, solemnity to rise spiritually from folky strum to the bluesy roll courtesy of Pete Tolson's guitar, while "Sickle Clowns" sounds so dirty as to pack a heartbreaking threat that only a life lived can bring forth. Now, years in the wilderness turn into expanded heavy roar-cum-chant through the organ-moisted "Cries From The Midnight Circus" and "What's The Use" which has been elongated by good six minutes and given a delicate, if muscular, six-string acoustic solo. And if "In The Air" reveals previously well-hidden sensual textures in its muggy midst, a sitar-like coating and newly fashioned boogie piano line make "Miss Fay Regrets" jollier than ever. All this lends the album monolithic quality and a valorous panache. Waller's bass comes to surface only on the neatly orchestrated "Grass" that's certainly greener this side of the rock century, and the luxurious harmonies of "Parachute" underpinned with Skip Alan's moving drum-work show the veterans' youthful zip in all its glory - as does the catchy "She's A Lover".

It's what inspired the group to not only build on the classic foundation but to add to it a couple of new songs, brimful of optimism. One of these, "Here We Go Again", spiking airy drift with a pinch of reggae, gives a hope there can be more from this band. Welcome back, then.

****4/5

It takes a red-haired woman to give a white man blues.

The Bay Area veterans with an envious track record join forces and gently but surely go for the jugular and guts.

Looking like real brothers, spiritual siblings Jimmy Dillon and Lorin Rowan have been there before, as THE EDGE, but individually backing such luminaries as Bruce Springsteen, John Lee Hooker, Stephane Grapelli and Jerry Garcia didn't have enough time to mix their influences and shake it properly. Which they do now, and do it gloriously. Two singing guitarists throw themselves headlong into a milieu of kindred spirits to choose emotions over seriousness, and while there's a tempered drama in the violin-woven Eastern bliss of "Istanbul", the silky trumpet-twined piano of "Te Quiero" burns hot under the flamenco sun as does the organ-oiled opener "Crazy Lovesick Blues" that sets the scene in infectiously twangy way. The inevitable pleasure is wrapped around the 7-minute reggae overhaul of "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'" yet the skank gets gritty in "Revolutionary Man" dedicated to Jamaica's greatest son and quoting his classics like "Buffalo Soldier" or, more context-consciously, "Is This Love".

"Love Can Be", here in both electric and sensual acoustic versions, can be too transparent to ingrain its message in full, but the title track "Love & Freedom" is a full-on carnival of samba vivacity. And if "Four Winds" harks back to the '50s dancehalls, "Ponchatrain" grooves mildly in the saucy Crescent City style with a six-string duet taken to the fore and encouraged with handclaps and churchy chant, whereas "Perfection" rides the string lace into Mariachi sunset. The layers to peel are plenty here, all of them admirable. A strong contender for the "Album of the year" crown.

*****

An ethereal chanteuse who counts JEFFERSON STARSHIP as fans shatters the waves with her mind-crawling debut.

With a nice backlog of collaborations, LA songstress Page finally grew the wings on her own and, on the strength of high-wired single "This Fire" which hit the charts on Amazon and iTunes serves up a dozen fluttering pieces that lodge themselves into the listener's brain slowly but surely. Co-produced with Warren Huart who, in this project, might find a vent from engineering a new AEROSMITH album, "Breathe Me In" forms tentatively, as the piano of "My Vanilla Sky" pulls in electronic shimmer and trip hop beats over adventurous undercurrent where bass lurks and Mimi's voice harmoniously floats, but insistent, soulful title piece and "Come What May" fills all the space available - emotional and aural.

And if the "Colorblind" spread its erotique purr not as bold as Mylene Farmer's latest fare, Page sounds original when she welcomes folk motifs into the claustrophobia of "Black Valentine" which her vocals inhabits with much gusto. Unlike the rest, and in sharp contrast with the wild, yet soft, guitar-poisoned, yet poised jolt of "Gravity", "Jigsaw" and "New" are pure acoustic ballad, ivories lulling the vocals in a sensual way to show that, stripped of all decoration, Mimi Page has even more winning, if traditional in the singer-songwriter vein, formula up her frilly sleeve.

****

Ex-XTC axe-slinger takes a new flight but keeps a firm connection with a ground control.

Just like a tide, almost four minutes of the melody-stricken seawash of "Glimmer" pull you into the kaleidoscopic vortex to state a point of this being a guitar album. And what else could it be if the axis of TIN SPIRITS' slow wonders is the time-tested wizardry of Dave Gregory? Originally a jam guest, now the veteran tows the Swindon group into timelessness in terms of their music's feel rather than his classic connections. At the same time modern and eternal, long instrumental lines ebb and flow in complex swashes that, in turns, either spread thin as ether or crystallize into surreal, vertiginous architecture one can only marvel at and admire from the inside.

With a healthy dose of wordplay in the band's name and the record's title - quite possibly a reference to "Drums And Wires", Gregory's debut as Andy Partridge's sidekick - the words don't play a huge role here, as bassist Mark Kilminster's singing enrich the texture of the foursome's four original pieces yet doesn't direct their path. There's some good rocking in the closer "Breathe Shallow" but the contrast between mundane verses and celestial ensemble interplay comes frontal on the epic "Broken" the heart of which, "Better Place", marks a soft, if soulful, spot. By the same token, vocal harmonies color up "...And Go" in fine neo-prog fashion where acoustically adorned riffs support the pop crunch before flamenco flash touches aquatic solo spurts in the swirl Gregory sculpts with a fellow grinder Daniel Steinhardt. In the center of it all trembles a cover of GENESIS' "Back In NYC", a fantastic vehicle for this quartet to show their skills on the least obvious, guitar-wise, choice from "The Lamb" that in their hands springs to life, and it's there that voices complement, and complete, the picture.

Point taken, the message is received and the expectations bar is set high. An impressive statement of intent.

****

Four decades on since their kitchen-sink start, the Tyneside bunch cook up their second - and most eclectic - record for a new millennium.

Formed in 1982 and split in 1992 only to go at it again in 2000, THE DAINTEES, led by undaunted Martin Stephenson, are looking for stellar delights now - the delights, as the cover of the band's sixth studio album suggests, in the vein of ''Le Petit Prince'', from the mature point of view. This point is the focus of the record's folksy centerpiece "Boy To Man" that, via the piano boogie "Power That Is Greater" with its "I'm not an orphan anymore" joyous chorus, innocently connects the urban shimmer of the Knopfleresque opener "The Ship" with the eyes-wide-open reggae of closer "I'm In Love For The First Time". As a result, each song creates a buzzing microcosm which the singer inhabits and expands to let his listener in.

It's easy to relate to the reckless rockabilly rumble of "Long Way To Go" or the harmonica-oiled blues riffage of "Ready To Move On", but the flamenco lace of "Streets Of San Sebastian", a fabulous relocation of a certain Ralph McTell's ballad, brings a tragic romance into the picture which is framed with Stuart Macleod's acoustic guitar and Kate Stephenson's marching drum. Elsewhere, the delicate hoedown of "Sweet Cherwine", high on the fiddle doodles, flows down the humorous lane to drink from the timeless source of inspiration and spread the tuneful water around and ooze the class as it goes. Far away from Laurel Canyon, "California Star" shines as one of the best British records of 2012.

****1/3

The slaughterhouse grinder remixes his glorious dirge to give at more weight and woe.

Working up a covers paradox, the English faction of glam splinters go Transatlantic. Block-busting it ain't.