Reviews by kuvien

I don't always dick around, but when I do, it's in Japan.

This album is nothing more than a tribute to the cabaret and jazz numbers of Kurt Weill, performed by German, British, and American artists. Impressive interpretations by John Zorn, Lou Reed, Carla Bley, Tom Waits, and Dagmar Krause. Some excellent avant-garde moments of pure theater here. There's absolutely no change in Waits' performance, but that's because Weill's influence on him is profound and can be heard throughout his Dark Cabaret albums.

This is the dream cast, collected from all the English-singing troupes. I’ve come to realize that this kind of music is for fans of the stage, so the people (like me) who love it are going to really really love it, and those who don’t care for the genre are going to shrug and wonder why this kind of music is so popular. Well, for me, it’s the storytelling, the swells of beauty, and the depths of despair. Les Misérables is one of my favorite books, one I re-read often, simply because I love the struggles and final triumph of Jean Valjean. The selfless and self-sacrificing bishop at the beginning of the book is inspiring, too, to say the least. However, Hugo often digresses in his narrative, descending into not only Napoleonic history (wherein he pontificates) but the history of the Paris sewers! All this non-essential scribbling is left out of the music, and the story is better for it.

From the LAFMS label, so much wankery and randomness expected. You're gonna get spoken word, sound collages, piano concertos, and experimental trickery. There were moments when I actually laughed out loud while listening to this.

Listened.

Dueling banjos, except instead of banjos it's power electronics. He keeps fainting, yes. And he's dizzy all the time.

Well, have you been doing what I recommended?

How much aspirin do you take when you have a fever of 106? Forget the aspirin. Just listen to Dance Music.

TFW you hold down the FWD button on my mp3 player, and the track sounds the same as if you didn't.

Imperial Japan, Aleister Crowley, Charles Manson, and Heinrich Himmler all on one album! Don't worry. The pretty little harpsichords and rousing brass bands make it all okay. NWW's conversation between a father and his daughter is so fucking disturbing, like they're trapped in a well together.

Bands from Italy, Romania, Russia, Netherlands, France, Argentina, UK, Sweden, Finland, Canada, Venezeula, USA, and Chile (probably missed someone) come together on this epic musical exploration of Dante’s Inferno. Clocking in at 247 minutes, this one is a haul, not for those who have short attention spans. Or, rather, listen to it in its natural parts: it’s a 4-CD collection, so just listen one CD at a time.

This is a decent collection of bluegrass, Americana, and old-timey sounding songs, but what really makes this album a keeper is the gems that shine amongst the lesser tracks, namely, “The Scarlet Tide” sung by Alison Krauss, the boot-stomping revival song “I’m Going Home”, and the chilling rendition of Child Ballad 74, renamed “Lady Margaret”. These songs capture the spirit of antebellum America. Perhaps a bit too much Jack White, though, in this soundtrack.

A bunch of Protestant CCM artists finally discovering that liturgy exists.

An unconscionable crime against both Christmas music and Celtic music.

Abstract, experimental noise isn't good for the digestion...unless you're a malfunctioning robot.

The Deaf Club was a tiny place in San Francisco for actually deaf people started in the 1930s. I wonder if the people in the audience were actually the regular deaf patrons. I like to think so, as these punk rockers make their statements, but I know that the place was just a music venue like many others. This is an incredible live album and a must-listen for any punk fan (which isn't me).

Someone plucking something out on the piano to comfort me while I get a root canal. My consciousness pulls back from the event, only to snap back with full force. Like this, I oscillate through the guts of the machine.

Oh fuck! The dentist is German, and his lovely assistant is singing to me, "He who lays down with dogs gets up with fleas!" I want to correct her, but I have a mouth full of sharp metal.

This is basically renditions of The Wicker Man soundtrack.

Giving the people what they want, even a drunken, pisstake rendition of "Baby Love".

This is the soundtrack to Julie Taymor's film of the same name. The music alone is just a bunch of Beatles covers, but if you see and love the film, the soundtrack takes on a whole new magic and charm, allowing you to watch the film in your mind, replaying with vivid clarity all those uniquely Taymor-esque scenes.

Deathbed album right here, as in, if you have just one more album to listen to, to get you on your way to your eternal destiny, this is a contender. Close your eyes and let the highway take you. Your day is but a life, and the day is at its end. The summer has passed. You've walked through fields of clover, and that's all gone now. Let this album be the companion to your final sighs.

This is the album with his legendary “Pancho and Lefty”. Enough said, but...I guess I could say more. Does this happen to anyone else? You feel a bit drunk listening to Townes, even if you’ve not had a drink all day? Anyway, the myth that this album is an allusion to a purported heroin overdose in which Townes died twice in one night seems to be just that: a myth. Actually it’s more based on a kind of hoax, like when everyone thought Paul had died. Thing is, no one knew Townes was even alive, so who’d be shocked by the news of his death? So long, unknown country troubadour! Enjoy your houseboat in heaven.

This album is a velvet nightmare on a bed of nails, a lonely road to death on a mountainside, with carousing shame down in the valley.

I heard and enjoyed four of Townes’ studio albums before I got my hands on this live recording, and when I first heard it, I just happened to have the perfect listening conditions. I waited until late at night, poured myself a whiskey, and sat in the dim light of my living room with my wife. We listened to this without talking and just felt the raw power of this live performance. And I love how he injects levity into his performance with his affable personality and his jokes. I’m not sure how big the Old Quarter is, but it strikes me as a very small venue, making this an intimate recording. Just a man and his guitar, singing his own songs and covering the songs of his heroes.