Reviews by kuvien

"String". That's what the single word of this album's title means. Sissoko's kora, a 21-string West African harp, evokes that which is equally mysterious and familiar to anyone already acquainted with the master harpist's skill: a woven tapestry of music of incredibly complex themes when it stands alone and of open, inviting motifs allowing for some wonderful collaboration, from whispery pop to (and I know this is going to sound weird, but it works!) rap. Sissoko shares his music with such a disparate group of musicians, and the result is an album shared with a disparate world of listeners. Meditative, sublime.

Not much is happening here, which is fine by me. Very atmospheric and meandering, but not what people expect from free folk, usually a crazy, off-the-wall genre. Strong ambient currents moving this folk along. Side A is a couple dudes; side B is different people. I feel like the music exhales, is respirated even.

My first reaction is: this sucks. But, nah, Sinatra's okay. He's just an artifact, that's all. I'm sure he was enjoyable for a lot of people who are now in their graves.

A cute little album. I've read comparisons to Red Headed Stranger. It's not really like that at all, though. The story isn't similar, and neither is the structure of the story, unless you're just looking at the universality of all stories having conflict, rising action, and resolution. This ain't the best Sturgill's done, but hell if it ain't a fine, cozy album. And if you've ever loved a dog, you'll understand "Sam". The mountains are in this music.

After the Las Vegas mass shooting, the Country Music Awards banned any talk of gun control. So Sturgill busked outside and spoke his mind about gun control. I like to think of that as the springboard into this album, an album of championed causes and fearless criticisms, taking shots at how modern Americans rationalize censorship and the sorry state of affairs in general, how fucked things are with a world on fire.

Sturgill isn't afraid to try new things musically, and every album since High Top Mountain has been an evolution, both artistically and, from what I can tell, personally. He goes from roots to this, and it's a helluva journey. He's also not afraid to speak his mind, to step on toes, and he puts his principles ahead of concerns about popularity (and money). He even makes a dig at Alex Jones there at the beginning (though that's low-hanging fruit). However, considering his fanbase as a country music star, that might've been risky--which he clearly can't give a single fuck about.

And how about that album cover? It perfectly encapsulates our modern "wheeee!" attitude toward the wretched state of the world as we consume and worship war and watch the planet burn. This is a world-weary album, full of frustration, and the only thing Sturgill sees as a positive is his wife and son. He just wants to isolate himself and contemplate the future of humanity through the lens of his own past.

This shit is bleak, but it's not all political. A lot of thought is put into what fame has done to him, how isolated he feels because he's surrounded by sycophants.

I went into this expecting to hate it...shows what I know. Sturgill's clever and honest songwriting and his pure charisma--and oh damn that voice!--carry this one to glory. Across all his albums, you can track his life arc so far, from starving artist scraping for a break, to making it and wondering if it's worth it being on the road all the time and missing his boy growing up, to jaded star weary of the haters and the hangers-on.

Metamodern Sounds in Country Music is the album that basically put Sturgill Simpson on people's radars. Though it's not quite as good as his debut,, this album is like a breath of fresh air to country music.

The album starts in a rather unconventional way for country music. The last thing you expect is a trippy music video talking about the interaction of philosophy and psychedelic drug use. He brings it back home, though, when he tells us that all the drugs he's done have changed the way he sees things, but love is the only thing that ever changed his life. This is, in my opinion, one of the strongest openings I've ever heard on a studio album.

From this, Sturgill moves into more familiar territory with "Life of Sin" and "Living the Dream", especially with the wordplay of "I thank God for this life of sin". That's a classic country trope, and Sturgill delivers it in a charming enough way so as not to seem hackneyed.

And then the album takes deeper artistic turn with "Voices", a song decrying the way everybody talks and talks but no one ends up ever actually saying anything (kind of like this post). I get this song through and through, and I'm right there with him when he sings, "I wish somebody would make these voices go away". As I wrote that last line, a new thought struck me: is he talking about voices in his head? No. Within the context of the song, he's clearly talking about humanity and all the bullshit it spouts on a daily basis.

I grew up in the 80s. MTV in its heyday was like mother's milk to me, and I watched it religiously every day. Thus, When in Rome's "The Promise" is a childhood favorite of mine. So when I heard this album for the first time, Sturgill's cover didn't sit well with me. I felt it didn't do the original justice, but after getting the album on vinyl and spinning it many, many times, I've come to understand what Sturgill is doing. He's not trying to cover a song and make a cheap version of it. He's redefining it, the way he does with "In Bloom" on his latest album. He's making the songs his own.

I was raised on country music but rejected it as I got older and got into genres I consider more artistic, serious, and/or creative. Sturgill Simpson, however, convinced me that the genre itself has plenty to offer, if you just look. Thus, over the past few years, I've gone down a rabbit hole and have been listening to Townes Van Zandt, Guy Clark, and the like.

Sturgill first popped up on my radar with. After hearing that gem, I immediately checked out this album. I was so amazed with his second release that I didn't think his debut could be better. I was wrong. This is his best album. This is him at his rawest and most real, when he was still struggling to make it, before the recognition, before the Grammy nomination for best album. Though he's clearly still striving on Metamodern Sounds in Country Music, you get the sense that he's got breathing room. Not so on High Top Mountain. Sturgill's desperate, but he's keeping a lid on it, keeping his cool, and poking fun at himself to keep his sanity. He's starts us off with an aphorism, "life ain't fair and the world is mean". His voice, his country cool, his outlaw style carry it all from here on out.

"You Can Have the Crown" and "Some Days" are the standouts for most listeners, and rightly so. These songs distill Sturgill's predicament: he's got a wife who wants him to get a job, but he knows he's got the chops to make it in country music. And he likes to smoke weed. But for me, the best song on this album is "Old King Coal". It's got everything a country song could ask for and more. It's country down to the bone, but Sturgill takes it a step further. He doesn't try to sugarcoat anything, doesn't romanticize small-town life like so many watered-down country singers have done and still do today. No. He gives it to us raw and real: the mountains used to be rich with coal, but "now there ain't nothing but welfare and pills".

If The Butcher Shoppe Sessions is the main course, this is the dessert, but only because it's quite a bit shorter. There is no difference in quality between this record and its sister album, recorded only two months previous. The same masters of the fiddle, banjo, percussion, and guitar have been given center stage once again to astonish with their skill. I'll never get tired of hearing "Oh Sarah", one of Simpson's oldest songs, one that was with him in his old country band, one he recorded with more country soul for his Sailor's Guide, and then gave the bluegrass treatment here. Clearly, this song is important to Sturgill. I mean, it is about his wife, who's been there from the beginning, who encouraged him to chase his songwriting/performing dream. And as if that wasn't enough glee for a fanboy like me, I learn that the final track, "Hobo Cartoon", was co-written by Sturgill Simpson and Merle Haggard, the latter finishing up the tune while dying in a hospital bed.

My first reaction to this music (besides the squeal of joy I let loose when I saw Sturgill had released a new album) was "this one's for the fans". But strike that. It's for anyone who's into timeless bluegrass delivered with as much coal-mine grit as high lonesomeness. But there is an especial joy for those of us who've followed Sturgill from the beginning of his career and can thus get excited about hearing the re-worked songs we've loved for years. Seven songs from High Top, seven from Metamodern Sounds, only two from Sailor's Guide, and four little-known tunes from his band Sunday Valley's 2011 cowpunk/alt-country album, To the Wind and on to Heaven. Like any proper handling of such a giant of a traditional genre like bluegrass, you'd better bring your A-game. And it ain't something you can go alone. Bluegrass is the epitome of ensemble music, for the players are virtuosos, and not one is expendable. Banjo, fiddle, mandolin, upright bass, acoustic guitar--they'll hail your soul from your body. So many delightful old-timey moments, like the all-male chanted chorus on "Life Ain't Fair and the World Is Mean". By the way, y'all catch that? He's got more kids than when he first recorded that song. One last thing: I'm pretty sure I would've wept if Sturgill had left "Old King Coal" off this album. Ah. Who'm I kidding? I wept anyway, but for the opposite reason.

Greatest hits artists

Along with and, Simon & Garfunkel completes the trinity of artists whose studio albums just aren't good enough to listen to on their own but who have an amazing collection of songs that make for a stellar greatest hits collection.

As it is the album that directly follows, it's obvious just by listening that this is the follow up to that legendary album, like anything he might have left unsaid is said here, completing the exploration into all the Brazilian and African rhythms he wanted to share with his audience that had never heard such music in the mainstream.

Super accessible jazz but not at all boring even for the seasoned avant-garde jazz enjoyer. It takes a certain kind of talent to be able to appeal across a broad spectrum of tastes, but I think this album can do just that. Maybe even be palatable to people who don't like the unpredictability of jazz, since this melodious album doesn't throw any curve balls. Silver's piano playing is pleasant, and Henderson blows smoothly and beautifully on his saxophone. What a beautiful thought, by the way, for Silver to honor his father this way as he blends jazz with the Portuguese and Cape Verdean folk he heard growing up.

An ex-Jazz Messenger takes the reins of his own creativity and produces a wonderful late-50s jazz album, a combination of fast, smoking numbers and lovely, expansive ballads.

It can't be chance that two instrumental tracks follow "If I Was a Blackbird", giving the listener time to dwell upon the significance of a jilted lover settling like a blackbird on his true love's lily-white breast. To those whose souls are born of this music, these tunes speak directly to the blood. This music from a narrow land girt by wild seas, seas that match the wild Scottish heart. To be honest, though, I could do without the keyboard synths.

This wonderful album starts as a lively dance on the fairground green before delving into the sadness of the valley of Strathmore, therein exploring all its attendant woes. Is there any worse thing in human suffering than regret? This album can lift me up just as easily as it drags me down, and yet there is a sweetness and beauty both in the heights of celebration and the depths of despair.

After So Many Partings and Caledonia’s Hardy Sons, one would expect all of Silly Wizard’s albums to be unassailable folk giants, but alas they are not. This album is in no way a slouch, but compared to the band’s earlier output… well, anyway, the first track is one of Silly Wizard’s best, and the way they weave their instrumental tracks through the album is beautiful.

This is jolly peasant music, not jolly, peasant music. It starts off with a folksy bang, like we're going to go have a dance down the pub or on the village green. Their Child ballad renditions are pretty much a staple for all British Isles folk, what with their obsession with the common and equally strong themes of love and death. It's interesting how prominently the flute figures into traditional folk music regardless of region, though how the instrument is employed varies. The flutes are more melodic and less tribal in feel here. I enjoy how this album, at its end, dips into a rather introspective accordion and fiddle track, a perfect end when you're worn out from dancing, crying, or both.

I've heard this kind of deep, clear pagan chanting in other Nordic folk music, but this is the first time I've heard it in a melodic Sigur Rós modern classical context. Usually it's the percussion of dry bones, not the swelling orchestral arrangements of his album. Good stuff, though, especially when offset by Jónsi's faerie vocals. The young meeting the old at the border between our world and faery. It's almost as if Hilmarsson's voice is the wisdom of Odin.

More ambient than their other releases, this album is more about setting a mood than taking a musical journey through Sigur Rós' soundscape. Though I don't spin this as much as,,, or, I still love this album and the way it helps me relax. This music is a long, slow, sad look at what the band is capable of. It's like a camera panning over an old battlefield, now overgrown with grass and flowers.

Every time I listen to this album, I love it more. This is a unique band for me, since I often sing along with them, having no idea what I'm singing. It's all phonetic anyway, but the fact that they can anchor the vocals in my mind without providing any meaning allows me to consider the vocals to be just another instrument in their triumphant, uplifting soundscape. This beautiful album can evoke emotions from me like few other pieces of music can. I went over to my friend's apartment one day, and he sat me down in front of his huge speakers, turned off the lights, and played for me a song. I didn't know who it was by. He just wanted me to listen to it. So I did. Full disclosure: he had kick-ass speakers, so anything would've sounded impressive. Listening to this song was like entering a faerie land, and not the cartoonish Disney kind. I mean the proper faerie realm, one supremely pagan and one that is equal parts beautiful and dangerous. That song was "Sæglópur", and it was the beginning of my love affair with Sigur Rós' music.