Reviews by kuvien

Timbuktu is actually a city in Mali, but "for some people, when you say 'Timbuktu', it is like the end of the world, but that is not true. I am from Timbuktu, and I can tell you we are at right at the heart of the world."

-- Ali Farka Touré, Los Angeles, 1993

The first track lured me, the second track hooked me. I was not prepared for the beautiful onslaught of the night. The night in the music, I mean, a time when love goes right, when one can contemplate the sighs of the world. What surprises me most about this album is how no two tracks sound the same. Perhaps that's due, in part, to the fact that Touré sings in at least four different languages here. The Songhai people are not some monolithic culture, and thus their music is going to be understandably diverse. They once ruled an empire that covered most of the interior of West Africa. For this album, one track will be lush and electric, another swaggering, another strained, rusty strings, and yet another bare bones held together by sparse percussion.

Rise in the morning to the sound of a bright acoustic guitar and greet the bluebirds and hummingbirds. Then climb the hill on symphonic strings. Tie your hair into pigtails, and when you're done watching all the people die, float downstream on a current of lazy horns.

That moment when a song is so magical, so perfect, that it has to be played again immediately. And it doesn't get stale. Cash takes a moment to make sure all the producers and TV channels clearly understand the "fuck you" he's giving them, too. Brilliant. The only person who can outdo Johnny Cash is Johnny Cash, and he does only on At Folsom Prison.

I remember reading the liner notes in my Johnny Cash boxed set booklet, and Cash describes the feeling in the room after singing "San Quentin" the second time through. The first time through it was a bunch of cheering, but the second time through, the inmates know the song and fall into a dark brooding mood. Cash says that the tension was so strong in the room that he could've told the prisoners to riot in that moment, and they would have.

Yes is very good at elevating the status of rock by embracing classical music, adapting the classical aesthetic to what they’re doing. As we all know, most of the classic prog rock bands were British. Unlike jazz being seen as more important in America, classical music was more prestigious in the UK. I love the playful, clever interludes steeped in classical motifs, but one cannot ignore the majesty of the giant first track, “Roundabout”. For this track, it’s all about the instrumentation, the vocals covering only a fraction of the song. Basically, the lyrics aren’t important. We hear all Yes members’ virtuosity on this track, displaying their instrumental fluency, steeped not only in classical but art-oriented jazz. The song is also all about the concept, and the bigger the better: dramatic contrasts from section to section, the sprawling form of the piece, and the rich and varied textures and rhythms.

First of all, I really dislike the album art. That's got nothing to do with the music, but I'm just throwing that criticism out there, because it looks like... well, you know what it looks like. Don't play dumb. As far as the music goes, I guess it's good? It sounds just like a million other acts, so I guess that's acceptable? I'm glad a lot of people like this, though; just keep it away from me. Especially that cringe-ass off-key ballad singing they do.

Carefree psychedelic carnival music that takes hairpin turns. One minute you’re partying, and the next nothing. Wait. What happened? Where’d the party go? Nowhere. It’s right here, just evolved. Try to keep up.

Within a year of the Beatles’ breakup, George releases this epic double album? Yeah, he was clearly ready to move on. I can just imagine what he was thinking in those final days: “for fuck’s sake, I’ve got songs to write and here I sit watching all this passive aggressive bullshit pass between Paul and John.” Yeah, isn’t it a pity? Well, George is finally free, and he has a lot to say and a quiet, introspective, religious heart to express. He’s come out of his cocoon and can finally spread his wings, and you know what? He’s beautiful.

Sex, drugs, and rock & roll. But that's just where the story starts. I've heard this album probably a hundred times or more, but it wasn't until recently, as I was listening with an ear to write something about the album, that I realized that this is a loose concept album. It's about going to the big city (in this case L.A.) to make it big, with your head full of dreams, only to be smacked by the reality of drugs and the eternal chase after a high you can never again reach. It's the later songs like "Paradise City" and "Sweet Child o' Mine" that has the protagonist regretting his decisions and wanting to go back home, wherever that is, far from the big city that is, indeed, not paradise, not filled with pretty girls, and certainly lacking in green grass.

The sunshine and brocade of this music belie the dark, sarcastic, critical-of-society strains that run throughout this album.

This would be a flawless pop album if not for the two missteps. I'll let you guys argue about what two tracks they are.

I'd rather listen to Bruce Springsteen, and I hate Bruce Springsteen.

The love song of Lucifer is seductive, and it's not until you're under its thumb that you understand who your lover truly is. The seduction does not stop at the Prince of Darkness though but extends to the evilness of women, as well. The metal is all so smooth, so comforting, like a warm blanket. An album to wrap yourself up in, but you've been warned...

I guess one would hit rock bottom after being in an accident that leaves you a paraplegic. There are only three ways you can go with alcohol: it kills you, you stop drinking and never touch the stuff again, or you fall out a window blind drunk and get paralyzed from the waist down.

Imagine sitting--drunk on broken dreams--in a dusty, empty honky tonk with this album playing on the jukebox, dust motes playing in the slanted, sunlit air, the lonesome music echoing off the over-decorated, uncaring walls. Lost somewhere north of Los Angeles, close enough to know the big city's a real sumbitch.

I feel like I’m sitting right there in the prison with the guys watching the show—the most heartfelt, candid show I’ve ever heard. Not only is Cash an unparalleled storyteller, he’s really got a heart for the prisoners he’s playing for. I really like how the guys applaud, letting me know exactly what lyrics or licks best tickle the imprisoned listeners. The music rollicks along, but there are quite chilling moments, too, like when the voice announces normal prison business over the PA. Whenever I finish listening to this album, I have mixed feelings: I go on with my life, but those guys all go back to their cells.

More like Night at the Variety Show. This album's got show tunes, operettas, folk rock, piano ballads, and, of course, hard rock bangers. And they end it like proper Englishmen, by playing "God Save the Queen". Yep, definitely a variety show.

(btw fyi, this is the album with "Bohemian Rhapsody", and in the context of this album, it's not a standalone track but is the natural consequence of the whole wonderful program that ran before it)

I think Baez isn’t as well respected as other folk singers because she does a lot of traditionals and covers. Of course people know her name, but who listens to her anymore? I love her renditions of selected Child Ballads. Folk singers like this have saved and are saving old Western European folk songs. She recorded this album when she was only 19.

Teenage hormones meet acoustic punk. The dude's got his hands full. When he can't beat his meat, he plays guitar with as much passion, and when he can't pluck and strum that guitar, he gives his meat the same treatment.

This one's like an old friend telling you stories at a truckstop, making you feel all comfortable and nostalgic among strangers of the road. Running from the law never felt so good, sugar never tasted so sweet, the American rose was never so beautiful. Cross-country travel is a metaphor for life's journey--whether it's that dark highway you must travel alone or you just truckin' along. In either case, it's a long, strange trip.

What do you say about an album that’s had as much ink if not more spilled over it than all other albums? What fool has brought a torch to bright-burning Troy? Well, let me first add what my wife said about this album on our most recent listen: “this album has a bit of everything, so it’s like a denizen of the other side of the moon came around to our side and, during one revolution of our satellite, listened to all the sounds of Earth, and when he went back around to what we call ‘the dark side’ of the moon, he made this music, rendering back to us our own sounds but filtered through his experience.” Damn. Why can’t I just come up with things that like to say? Anyway… Dark Side. A lot of the poignancy of this masterpiece is found in the lyrics, as they paint a bleak picture of modern life and as they detail the stress we feel living in this kind of world. Don’t you sometimes feel just a little bit crazy being mixed up in this modern soup? For all its supposed complexity, this album has no histrionics, no immersion in sound, and no musical complexity. It relies on “found” sounds, such as the iconic cash register, spoken parts, running, and heartbeat. The success of this album was (still is?) unprecedented, with a run on the US Top 200 chart for 741 weeks! That’s just over 14 years.