David Axelrod David Axelrod
This disc has as good a backstory as any of 2001. A down-on-his-luck cult hero of the '60s/'70s — a 60-something, gray-haired white dude with a lifetime passion for black music — catches the ear of such sample-happy artists as DJ Shadow, Dr. Dre and others. They're enthralled with his exotic sonics and ladle it into their own work. In '99, Mo' Wax head David Lavelle digs up Axelrod and has him remix a track from his UNKLE project. With a buzz beginning, an unreleased acetate from a late '60s Axelrod session is unearthed and, backed by Mo' Wax, the artist sets about embellishing the tracks for release.
The result is David Axelrod, a head-trip of an album that's as unclassifiable as they come.
This mostly instrumental disc wantonly mixes neo-classicism, soundtrack-style compositions, symphonic soul, psychedelic rock and more into a confounding, but ultimately seductive, brew. Further, these tracks deftly bridge the old and the new. The antique-flavored original rhythm tracks get spiced with fresh horn and string arrangements and bold overlaid solos by the likes of saxophonist Ernie Watts and trumpeter Oscar Brashear (which reside comfortably with old-style guitar solos by the late Howard Roberts). These sonic dichotomies are noticeable, but somehow right (although you'll have to live with some tape hiss).
Heard casually, the CD might not make much of an impression. Instead of writing distinctive melodies over the rhythm tracks, Axelrod chose to flesh them out with arrangements, resulting in songs that are essentially boiled down to slow-moving chord changes.
The richness of this listening experience is in the details. The '68 sessions featured top L.A. studio players: Carol Kaye's supple electric bass lines are a wonder; Earl Palmer's subtly funky drumming is refreshingly active; Axelrod clearly gave his stickmen the green light to drive the ensemble with as many fills as they saw fit. Throughout, the spiky accents of rhythm guitarists Lou Morell and Peter Wyant lend soulful touches a la Curtis Mayfield or Isaac Hayes. Ditto for the recurring presence of fluttering flutes. Joe Sample's thick, swirling organ occasionally lends a Pink Floyd feel. Largely self-taught as an arranger, Axelrod obviously hears differently. His horn voicings are shrewdly dissonant, his string sections more aggressive than soothing.
Axelrod bookends the revamped material with two brand new pieces that prove he hasn't lost his taste for iconoclasm. The opener "The Little Children" begins with a floaty neo-classical movement, followed by a stately choir section; then MC Ras Kass enters with a strident rap over no percussion at all, just the pulse of woodwinds and sawing strings. His three forays, broken up by Lanny Morgan's scintillating alto sax solo, provide a harrowing commentary about the fate of today's young people.
Closing the disc is "Loved Boy," an elegy for Axelrod's son, who died in his teens. Lou Rawls, who first gained stardom in the '60s with Axe-produced records, sings a prayerful ode over another grooveless arrangement adorned by jazzy horns. Rawls' voice is imbued with an uncharacteristic rasp, his usual finger-snappin' cool supplanted by a palpable pain. It's a powerfully disquieting piece of music.
In all, David Axelrod adds up to something oddly familiar but definitely out there. (Mo' Wax/Beggars Group)
—Eric Snider
The Vandermark 5 Acoustic Machine
Chicago reedman Ken Vandermark manages to juggle myriad projects while keeping his namesake group fresh, inventive and able to top itself. The V5 boldly stirs avant-skronk, bracing composition and hard swing into an invigorating, listenable concoction. The unusual frontline of two tenor players (Dave Rempis and Vandermark, who doubles on clarinets) and trombone (Jeb Bishop) yields a thick, gutbucket sound; the simpatico rhythm section of bassist Kent Kessler and drummer Tim Mulvenna deftly navigates a variety of swing feels, free rhythm and even some ragged funk ("License Complete"). Vandermark has dedicated these compositions to various legendary influences, evoking their styles to an extent. This serves the quintet's versatility: The Stan Getz ode "Coast to Coast" is imbued with a wistful lyricism; "Auto Topography" (Archie Shepp) is a free-jazz freakout; "Stranger Blues," for Lester Young, has a relaxed flow. Vandermark's playing, chameleonic yet distinctive, blends just the right amount of brawn and wit. And, as is the case with any top-shelf jazz ensemble, the V5 far exceeds to sum of its parts. (Atavistic, www.atavistic.com)
—Eric Snider
The Court & Spark Bless You
The Court & Spark spend a lot of interview time claiming, rather unconvincingly, that they're not a country band; even a cursory run-through of Bless You goes a long way toward explaining why. In the midst of San Francisco's ambitious, multifaceted and art-damaged indie-pop scene, it's probably not too cool to be categorized so simply. But when all the elements — pedal steel, twangy Telecasters, shuffling waltz rhythms — are so conspicuously present, the temptation to boil it down to that can be awfully inviting. The band does, however, have a point: It's not really country in the same way that the Gram Parsons' music isn't, or that Steely Dan's stuff isn't exactly pop. So much eclectic influence — from The Velvet Underground's Spartan disaffection through the No Depression gang to the somewhat iconoclastic hooks of Eels — finds its way into these wide-open aural spaces that to see it as simply alt-country seems like cheating. The opening "To See the Fires" is as engagingly off-kilter as SF art-pop gets, and "Rooster Mountain" recalls Dire Straits' moody minor-key compulsion. Standouts "A.M. Radio," "Pearly Gates" and the simple, gripping rideout "In a Sugarpine Bed" celebrate American C&W roots. It's all executed beautifully, with a wistful, lone-rider vibe. Call it what you will, or better yet, just shut up and listen. (Absolutely Kosher, www.absolutelykosher.com)
—Scott Harrell
Dungeon Family Even in Darkness
The longstanding collective Dungeon Family, comprising the cream of ATL rappers and producers, weighs in with a thick, don't-give-a-shit effort that reeks fun and funk. Outkast, Goodie Mob, the Organized Noize production team and sidekicks Backbone, Cool Breeze, Witch Doctor and Big Rube engage in a mic-passing rhyme orgy. Without solid hook-writing, though, Even in Darkness would've likely come off as a mess. (Even now, there's a bit of too many cooks in the kitchen for the project's own good.) Songs like "Crooked Booty," "Follow the Light" and "Trans DF Express" lend a sing-along flair so crucial to hit-bound hip-hop. Darkness fades a bit in spots, but is rarely anything but an exuberant, South-styled party experience. (Arista)
—Eric Snider
This article appears in Dec 13-19, 2001.