Canadian Audiophile’s Mishaps and Misadventures

Some empires fall to pieces while others flourish. In the case of Australia’s The Cat Empire, the funky-ass melodies and jazz/ska/rock/Latin/whatever fusion of their sound has helped the six-piece prosper while many others would have long crumbled under the pressure.

Beginning as a trio in 1999, The Cat Empire didn’t put out their first album until 2003. The self-titled release was made while heavily touring Australia. By the time the debut was released, the group was a full six-person collective and had a track (“Hello”) in heavy rotation on BBC Radio 1.

So Many Nights, which is the band’s third album, was released in Australia in September of 2007. The subsequent Australian tour included a record-breaking eight shows in seven nights at Sydney’s Metro Theatre. So Many Nights hit its American release on April 22, 2008 and has been generating a good deal of buzz for the sextet from Down Under.

Featuring the 2007 line-up of Felix Riebl on lead vocals and percussion, Harry James Agnus on trumpet and lead vocals, Ollie McGill on piano and keyboard, Ryan Monro on bass, Will Hull Brown on drums, and Jamshid “Jumps” Khadiwhala on turntables and tambourine, The Cat Empire cranks out party music with depth and enthusiasm. The collective also features The Empire Horns, a small group of trombone, trumpet, and sax players who are essentially considered full-time members.

With So Many Nights, the songs are pulled from stories and adventures from the band’s travels. This meant that the group needed to step beyond their normal “party thing” and head into more pensive terrain. While the funk and strong melodies are still present, fans of The Cat Empire may find a little more profundity and meticulousness on this record.

The songs still crackle, but some might find a little more introspection than they bargained for.

When the funky introduction of the album’s opener and self-titled track takes over, however, it becomes apparent that The Cat Empire is a tight unit. The addictive catchiness of the chorus and the danceable rhythm is hard to resist. And so it is with So Many Nights, as songs take off like fireworks and splash captivating rhythms and vibrant melodies damn well everywhere.

Some songs slow the party down a little, like the fanciful and delightful “Panama,” the melancholy of “No Longer There,” or the mystifying reggae tone of “Til the Ocean Takes Us All,” but the magic of this grand collective is still very much there.

Other songs play with ska (“Fishies” and the Mighty Mighty Bosstones-esque “Sunny Moon”), while others tinker happily with jazzy strutting (“Lonely Moon”) and Middle Eastern flavor (“The Darkness”). To say that So Many Nights is never boring is an understatement; each track offers something new, fresh, and inviting.

The Cat Empire’s latest is an inspiring musical journey through a slew of different genres. The band never lets up and, although some tunes sound a bit congested and the turntable often seems gratuitous, the group’s exciting ear for melody comes through in the most unlikely of places.

So Many Nights is another worthy entry in the “mythology” of The Cat Empire.

7.5/10

Jorge Reyes has been one of the great innovators of the double-bass in Cuban music, layering his sound with such profound depth that his instrument isn’t confined to the back of the orchestra but rather takes center stage. He plays it like a lead instrument, coaxing melodies out of the lower register and easily moving between roles as a support rhythmic player to a central character in his compositions.

With De Todo Un Poco (A Little bit of Everything), Reyes bounces merrily between both roles. He also serves as bandleader on each track and is the composer of many of the album’s instrumentals. Jorge’s command of his quintet (Reyes on bass, Carlos Averhoff Jr. on tenor sax, Emilio Morales on piano, Giraldo Piloto on drums, and Adel González on percussion) is notable not only in the flexibility of the music but also in the interaction between the band’s instruments. Each song is like a conversation.

That interaction works best when Reyes is experimenting with different tempos and making alterations in the rhythms. The album’s opener, “Do-Do,” bounces bravely as an introduction and quickly changes pace with its enthusiastic percussion.

Reyes employs related Cuban flavours throughout De Todo Un Poco, straying from his roots just long enough to play with other melodies and tempos. On “Contraste,” the use of tap percussion and drums flows logically from the song’s vivacious introduction and Reyes’ bass takes the lead. Percussion explodes on “Descarga 2003,” a rousing number highlighted by claps and a rock-and-roll melody.

The tender vocals of Evelyn Garcia Marquez are featured on three songs, adding depth to the record. “Realidad y Fantasia” from Cesar Partillo de La Luz has a jazz standard feel, while the nature of “Obsesión” focuses on the heart-rending dialogue between Marquez’s beautiful lamentations and Reyes accompanying bass.

Reyes ends things with the bass and percussion interchange of “Con-Tumba y Con-Trabajo” and leads it into Billy Strayhorn’s standard “Take the A Train,” giving the latter a pile of amped-up Cuban tang and an flood of percussion to fill in the gaps. Reyes’ take on Strayhorn’s inimitable standard is energetic and high-spirited.

Jorge Reyes’ dazzling De Todo Un Poco really does supply a little bit of everything. His knack for using rhythms of folk, blues, jazz, Cuban and world music, and even a little bit of rock and roll shows his zeal for music and his need to expose the world to the endless possibilities of music.

8/10

Artists like Paquito D’Rivera don’t come around very often, yet this virtuoso of the flute, clarinet, and sax forms an instant relationship with the listener. Relationships are based on trust, and one can trust D’Rivera to play his heart out and allow the music to flow over the confines of the composition into something spectacular.

While Paquito is absurdly talented, he is also very accessible. Perhaps that’s a part of his charm, as his music readily fits in at the snazziest high-end gatherings and the most down-home joints without losing any of its fire.

So when the Bele Bele Jazz Club series compiles a collection of virtually unknown recordings from Paquito D’Rivera, it requires attention. The eleven cuts found on The Lost Sessions are taken from a period between 1976 and 1978. While it’s quite a narrow period in time, it’s also an extremely diverse period for Paquito and the other performers on this disc.

The songs are unwilling to be confined into particular genres, giving this anthology an almost felonious feel. It seems that it doesn’t matter who Paquito plays with, as the tunes simply have a desire to jump out of the speakers and begin dancing around mischievously. And that’s just what happens as The Lost Sessions spins.

These songs beg for motion from the listener; most of them are simply impossible to remain still through. Regardless of how hard I tried, my left foot wouldn’t stop tapping to the contagious grooves of “Mi Pequeña Anna.” Paquito is joined by the Finland Jazz Combo for the first three tracks on the album, adding a taut backing collective to his sizzling Cuban jazz tendencies.

The remainder of the album was recorded in Cuba, firmly entrenching the tracks in an environment of flavour and spice. At the same time, Paquito’s sound is also drenched in all sorts of 70s style. The compositions drip with biting wit in some cases, packed with organs and different sorts of effects to plant the sounds in the psychedelic tone of the time.

“Canción a Palia” is a nasty bit of jazz business, sped ahead full blast with an addictive percussion rhythm. It’s Carlos Emilio Morales’ guitar that puts this one over the board, though.

Other tracks take a disco rhythm and infuse it with Cuban jazz, creating a sound worth several repeat listens. The sort but sweet “Pulgarcito en Guanabara” is an example of this. Pay attention to the sudden ending. You can’t miss it!

The Lost Sessions from Paquito D’Rivera deserved to be found. With high-spirited ecstasy sprinkled throughout this recording, it’s a hard album to sit still through and an even harder album to listen to just once. Using Cuban jazz standards with sweltering percussion and special effects, Paquito’s compositions capture the sound of the 70s with unyielding glee and demonstrate his skills as a true giant of the woodwinds.

8/10

New York indie groups are a dime a dozen. There, I said it. Fact of the matter is, something’s in the water over there. In fact, musicians in New York City are drinking so much of it, that most bands coming out of the garages and studios of The Big Apple are starting to sound alike.

Variations of The Strokes, these groups come with no frills attached and are dedicated to rocking out, making the scene, and all of that other drivel. Skinny jeans, skinny ties, and skinny women all come back to the forefront and garage rock ventures out of the garage and on to your neighbour’s kid’s iPod. Such is life.

Enter French Kicks. This quartet isn’t naturally from Noo Yawk, but they have sipped the water and congregated around the clubs and alleyways to set their sound firmly in the state of mind of garage rock, post-punk, and, according to some goof writing the Wikipedia article, “modded pop.” Okay, now people are just making shit up.

French Kicks got on the board with a flourish, adding three heralded albums to their catalogue and receiving loads of critical approval along the way. 2002’s One Time Bells, 2004’s The Trial of the Century, and 2006’s Two Thousand all set the quartet’s legacy spinning. With 2008’s Swimming, the band decided to take the reins of the recording process, and laid out the tracks themselves for the first time. The result is, according to singer and multi-instrumentalist Nick Stumpf, “that it sounds completely like us.”

That’s a damn good thing.

Swimming finds French Kicks making no compromises. For Stumpf, Josh Wise, and Lawrence Stumpf, the ideal way to create their new album was to give it a sort of “live” feel. They used first and second takes along with serious doses of ad-libbing to open up the creative process and allow for a naturally liberated flood of music.

This free approach is immediately identifiable, as the glad riffs of songs like “Carried Away” and the clean melodies of the lead single “Abandon” all demonstrate the band’s readiness to take risks. The unrefined sound works well and the songs come across as spur-of-the-moment expressions rather than organized statements.

The no bullshit approach sets songs like “Said So What” on a different plane than most of their indie rock counterparts, as the tune’s tender evolution sounds just as at home in your best friend’s basement, as it does in a jam-packed concert hall. Its addictive melody is hummable and jolly. Imagine that.

Other songs showcase the band’s impeccable melodic layering, like the broad and see-through sounds of “Atlanta,” one of the album’s trickier tracks. The use of sinuous guitar and lilting vocals gives the song an eerie yet hospitable feature.

Swimming is an unprocessed album that finds French Kicks playing in their own neighborhood for perhaps the first time in their career. Their sound, while categorically very New York, belongs just about anywhere. Packed with addictive pop melodies and just a touch of the “fancy stuff,” this is vital indie rock for today’s hipsters and marks a rewarding record for just about everybody else.

7.5/10

Kayo Dot’s Blue Lambency Downward isn’t really a collection of songs insomuch as it is a single composition. Sure, the music is divided into tracks (I prefer to suggest they’ve divided the music into movements), but the overall sense of this 2008 recording from the masters of experimental psychedelic metal is that it demands to be heard as one inclusive work.

To say that Kayo Dot bridges the gaps between genres is quite accurate, as defining one tangible sound to slip the Boston band into is a awkward proposition at best and a fruitless operation at least. Hell, when their 2003 debut record is released on John Zorn’s label, you know there’s going to be trouble at the henhouse when it comes to traditional genre placements.

Fast-forward to 2008 and Kayo Dot hasn’t compromised a damn thing. Using instrumentations related to classical music and improvisational jazz, Toby Driver and Mia Matsumiya have upped the ante with Blue Lambency Downward.

Now signed to juggernaut Hydra Head Records out of Los Angeles, Kayo Dot’s multi-instrumental saturation bombing conjures up musical influences from just about every corner of the globe and channels them into one gratifying wall of sound.

To provide an indication as to the sound of Blue Lambency Downward, a quick list of the personnel on the record should do. Driver plays acoustic, electric, 12-string, baritone, and bass guitars. He also plays soprano clarinet, piano, organ, gamelan, analog synth, and toys with a laptop mellotron. Matsumiya wonderful violin is present, of course, but she also plays synth bass and mellotron.

Adding to the standard players, Blue Lambency Downward features the services of Charlie Zeleny on drums, Skerik on tenor and baritone sax, Hans Teuber on alto sax as well as soprano and bass clarinets and flute, and Dave Abramson on gamelan and additional percussion.

This orchestral line-up uses every inch of every instrument, providing a winding and complex work that pins five shorter pieces between two ten minute bookends to formulate a complete work of art. The shifting time signatures and elegant song structure used here is often very bizarre, but ultimately very satisfying.

There are moments of psychosis to Blue Lambency Downward, just as there are moments of reflective harmony and serenity. Compositions erupt into bedlam (“The Awkward Wind Wheel”) and fall apart into unusual waltzes (“Right Hand is the One I Want”). Others play with tempered noise and deep guitars (“Blue Lambency Downward”) while some (“Clelia Walking”) stroll through crisp guitar terrain using clarinets and Mia’s lovely violin as a guide.

This is a complicated, needy record. It demands several listens to explore the dark corners of the music and requires a vigilant ear to determine everything that is occurring within this monstrous composition. At the conclusion of several listens, however, it becomes evident that Kayo Dot has constructed something beautiful, haunting, delicate, and extraordinarily exquisite.

Call it a forward-thinking masterwork. Call it ahead of its time. Call it an unclassifiable tour de force. Call it Blue Lambency Downward.

10/10

How does one describe Japan’s legendary noise-rock outfit Boredoms? The short answer is that it can’t be done safely without venturing into some pretty complex ground. Composed of unequal parts ambiance, noise rock, minimalism, tribal music, and anything else Yamantaka Eye can get his hands on, Boredoms simply exist as an endless “band” of players and noisemakers.

Super Roots 9 is a decent place to start for those who don’t know where to begin. This recording comes eight years after the last Super Roots EP and fits somewhere in the band’s utterly confusing discography. Explaining Super Roots 9 is a difficult task, as is explaining Boredoms in general. It’s a little like explaining sound without allowing the listener to hear it, as the words will never do it justice.

Comprised of one track and one track only, Super Roots 9 features “LIVWE!!” as a live recording from a 2004 Christmas show. As the 40-minute track unfolded and expanded and contracted and breathed its way through walls of percussion and rhythmic choral singing, I had to keep reminding myself that Eye was doing this live. It is a simply astounding musical experience.

“LIVWE!!” is an ultimately relentless piece of work. Performed live by three drummers, a turntable, three DJs, and a twenty-four piece choir, this is experimental music on an epic scale. Voices shout in the background, cuing the percussion and the ceaseless drummers to new heights of the composition. Once the percussion and tribal drumming begins, it never stops. It is astonishing.

What makes Super Roots 9 a demanding experience is the notion that Boredoms never give up, never slow down, never quit. The drumming is absolutely unrelenting and never gives up ground to the choral arrangement, almost doing battle with the 24-piece choir live on stage in front of a crowd of dazzled onlookers.

Naturally one problem with a 40-minute composition is that it can get rather repetitive. The changes in the music are delicate and ever-so-slight, leaving little room for variation. Instead, Super Roots 9 seems like an exercise in stamina as Eye rams his percussionists and his composition to the breaking point for a steady 40 minutes of lunacy and the odd moment of poignancy.

There are a few abrupt moments of silence in which the crowd becomes an instrument all their own, offering up heaps of praise to the performers and preparing themselves for more insistent noise. And the last three minutes of “LIVWE!!” are unspeakably beautiful, as the falsetto of the choir brings the relentless gait of the piece to an oddly restful and tender conclusion.

Super Roots 9 is certainly not a piece of music for everyone.

It is not something one puts on behind a party or in the car on a road trip, although one could argue that the passing trees on a long journey might be marvellous accompaniment for what Boredoms pull off here. Regardless, Super Roots 9 is certainly a musical accomplishment that deserves recognition. It is a stunning feat of sound, pulse, and simplicity that never lets up.

7/10

The Morning Benders’ new records sounds like it could have been recorded on a lazy Sunday afternoon in your living room. It’s easy to imagine your musician friends dragging their amps and instruments into a small space and letting the music take over, as the simple earthy sounds of Talking Through Tin Cans belie a small quality to the music that allows for instant connection.

That small quality doesn’t mean The Morning Benders haven’t got the ability to throw down a barn-burning rocker or two, however, and this 2008 release doesn’t shy away from loud guitars at all. Guitarist and vocalist Chris Chu isn’t afraid to rattle your dishes or raid your fridge in his quest to put together a solid indie rock record.

After rearranging some furniture and finding enough wall outlets, it seems that Chu, guitarist Joe Ferrell, drummer Julian Harmon, and bassist Tim Or are about ready to play some music. This Bay Area band may look remarkably young and overly hopeful, but it’s the songs that truly stand out and give the boys a lovesick sort of appeal.

The first thing that’s captivating about Talking Through Tin Cans is the amount of care put into each melody. Constructed with what seems like a lethal combination of sunbeams, rainbows, and killer hooks, this is indie pop rock at its finest. The bouncy melodies are tough to resist, even if does seem that Chu’s jumping up and down on the sofa a little too much.

“Damnit Anna” introduces us to an almost folksy sound, as Chu channels parts of Dylan and early Beatles to formulate a hyper and healthy chunk of acoustica. After strumming rapidly through the first number, the texture of The Morning Benders sets in and the sound fills out more on tracks like “I Was Wrong” and the addictive “Patient Patient.”

There’s so much sway to this stuff that it feels as though all of the animals of the forest have now gathered to the living room window for a listen. The squirrel’s head-bobbing through the feverish jubilant energy of “Waiting for a War” doesn’t distract from the song’s hummable quality.

When Chu’s vocals on “Loose Change” chide someone to “just say what they mean,” we’re reminded he’s just a simple boy at heart. Great. I’m going to need more chairs…

Talking Through Tin Cans floats through a slew of carefree melodies with ease and before I know it, the boys are starting to pack up their instruments. Luckily I can still hum the songs from memory after only one listen.

As I wave goodbye to The Morning Benders and head out to my lawn chair, I’m reminded of the fun I had on Sunday afternoon and how a small band from the Bay Area had the ability to rattle my picture frames without breaking the glass.

8/10

A funny thing happens at the beginning of Mariah Carey’s latest album. Beginning with a freakish shriek, she opens E=MC2 with a run of high notes in an almost self-mocking fashion. To emphasize this caricature, the high notes turn into the backing track for “Migrate” and form a rather accomplished duet with T-Pain.

Such is the method of Mariah’s eleventh studio album. She fundamentally follows up on the pattern of 2005’s The Emancipation of Mimi, but doubles up on the self-awareness to put out a rather capable pop album. She even taps into the text message and YouTube generation with unrepentant joy.

“Touch My Body” is her eighteenth number one single. It’s a sexy and slinky track that has all of the noteworthy Carey-isms, including her ability to nail the higher registry unlike any other. It is her knack for quickly blasting through the higher notes and firing off lines in quick succession during the verses that transforms this potentially weak tune into a catchy single.

Part of the knock on Mariah is the conception that her emotional relationship with the songs is often lacking. This is a fairly solid critique, for the most part, and most of E=MC2 reaches into party-pop territory with no regrets. Like Kylie Minogue, Mariah’s music isn’t so much about emotional connections a la Mary J. Blige.

It’s more about the bounce.

That bounce is immensely present on tunes like “Cruise Control,” where the addition of Damien Marley makes the song a skilled Jamaican jam, and “I’m That Chick,” one of the album’s best tracks. These are precision-tooled songs just begging for night cruising.

As is usually the case, Mariah slows things down and attempts introspection with songs of love lost. “I Stay In Love” is Carey’s bread and butter, a piano-driven ballad with plenty of fluttery vocals. “Love Story” has a similar feel, but is mostly overproduced to bewildering levels.

Joined by Young Jeezy on “Side Effects,” Mariah puts out the most musically-complex track on the album. A string-driven bass bumper with sped-up vocals, it’s a trick-filled jam that should rattle a few speakers.

The pattern for the album is predictable: she starts in the club and winds up on her knees (in church, perverts). Naturally the evolution is palpable from the get-go, but Mariah isn’t known for surprises. “I Wish You Well” finds her accompanied by a piano and ready to save some souls. She reaches her upper registry here superbly, setting just the right tone as it matches with a distant organ.

Overall, E=MC2 is a fitting “sequel” of sorts to her previous album and follows the same pattern through and through. Her voice, overall, is more inhibited and restrained to a smaller scale than some might be used to. It is no less affecting, however, and the album feels a lot less flashy than some of her previous work.

But one almost wishes for more from the 38-year-old bombshell. She’s capable of it, but for now it seems that Mariah’s just doing good being Mimi.

6/10

Male/female harmonies are often hard to come by in the indie scene. Okay, you caught me. Male/female harmonies are about as common in the indie scene as eyeliner and warped mirror shots on Myspace. Multi-gender harmonies of top quality are a little bit more obscure, however, but things are headed in the right direction with Brooklyn’s The Jealous Girlfriends.

This four-piece group (Josh Abbot, Alex Lipsen, Holly Miranda, and Mike Fadem) carry out such lethal harmonies that it’s hard to contain their vast sound within one recording. It helps that The Jealous Girlfriends have a tendency to let it all hang out and release some absolutely staggering rock tunes that utilize the harmony and the loud fuzz of distorted but moving melodies to full measure.

Let’s face it: when you’ve been featured on Grey’s Anatomy and The L Word, you’ve made it even if you’re not signed by any “major label.” So with their self-titled release, their first as a full four-piece set, it’s no wonder that the songs melt together into one giant ball of really likeable pop-rock magic. The melodies come packaged ready for prime time, yet maintain their air of mystery long enough to keep indie kids happy with their “find.”

The album’s first track, “Secret Identity,” has all of the slow build of the grunge masters. Its sharp cymbals and plodding guitars give way to the open road of loud rock soon enough, but part of the fun is in the ride up the mountain of sound this band creates. Holly’s vocals are caught somewhere between sexy and deadly sexy and the way the band pulls in behind that to deliver a rock classic is something else.

And so it is that the quartet cleverly out BSS’s Broken Social Scene.

The Jealous Girlfriends toy with just about everything at their disposal, coming up with a rock spectacular that seems too gigantic and gallant for some tiny quartet out of BK. The Muse-like drive of “How Now” sounds geared for stadium rock and Josh Abbot’s vocals reach into the stratosphere, particularly when he’s joined by Miranda.

That drive and the Miranda/Abbot blend carry throughout this release, ecstatically battling back and forth on “The Pink Wig to My Salieri” and the feline funk of “Organs on the Kitchen Floor.” This is the stuff rock goddesses everywhere dream about, I’m sure. Miranda owns Abbot every time she steps out of the box, making the grouping of vocalists all the more convincing.

The goofy strut on “Something In the Water” gives the song depth, even if it was featured on TV with McDreamy. And you can bet I won’t let David Caruso scare me off “Carry Me,” a beautifully-meandering tune that seems an ideal ending to this record and, apparently, an episode of CSI: Miami.

The best advice I can give anyone wanting to stay ahead of the musical curve is to pick up this self-titled scorcher before it’s in the hands of the kids you hate. Once you let The Jealous Girlfriends taint you with their blistering guitar riffs and insistently cool vocals, you’ll find it hard to get Holly Miranda out of your head and may find it even harder to take this album off of repeat.

9/10