I Just Want to be Held NATHANIEL MAYER
Fat Possum
They found him dissolute in Detroit, a 59-year-old R&B singer with one hit on his resume, 1962's "Village of Love." The Fat Possum fellas, longtime Nathaniel Mayer fans, thought he still had that something, that wild-eyed, lawless, raw-nerved intensity that could translate into a wild-eyed, lawless, raw-nerved album.
They were right.
Despite its sensitive title, I Just Want to be Held is a rowdy amalgam of garage R&B, amped-up '50s rock 'n' roll, pre-funk James Brown and '60s toga-party rave-ups. Chunky drums, Farfisa organ, unruly horns (including raspy, bar-walkin' tenor solos) and rude guitars lay down a fierce backdrop for Mayer's singing, a hotwired, coiled mix of JB, Otis, Howlin' Wolf and Tina Turner at her sweatiest.
Some of the songs are retro cliches that don't quite click, but elsewhere Mayer, with the help of Fat Possum house producer Bruce Watson, finds a kind of postmodern take on time-tested styles. "I Found Out," for one, is a churning slice of punk blues on which its battle-worn singer preaches from experience: "Don't let them commune/ With dope and cocaine/ Can't do you no harm/ To feel your own pain," he sings, breaking into an anguished shout on the last line.
The early verses of the lascivious come-on "What's Your Name" strut to just tribal funky drums, then give way to corrosive guitar smears. Mayer takes over, his voice pinching into the higher register while the band locks into the song's simple riff, bringing the CD to a rousing close.
I Just Want to Be Held does not rise to this level of transcendence quite enough, but the world can always use some more rough-and-tumble rhythm-and-blues. (www.fatpossum.com) 
1/2
—ERIC SNIDER
Live Licks
ROLLING STONES
Virgin
I'm not one of those cranky critics who vilifies the Rolling Stones as crass, washed-up carpetbaggers whose tours are an affront to music, not to mention soiling their legacy as "The World's Greatest Rock 'n' Roll Band" (the kind of absolute designation I'm always reluctant to buy). It's just fine and dandy that a band of geriatric rockers should play extended greatest-hits sets for their aging constituency. It does not, however, translate into a good live album. On the two-CD Live Licks, the band rocks pretty well, but Mick Jagger's braying could get on a baby boomer's last nerve. Disc Two, a more stripped-down affair, relies less on big anthems; instead, raggedy renditions of "Monkey Man," "Can't You Hear Me Knocking," "When the Whip Comes Down" and other tunes allow the Stones to tap their inner bar band. Still, like they say: You had to be there. 1/2
—ERIC SNIDER
Out of the Shadow
ROGUE WAVE
Sub Pop
Smart, contemplative, acoustic guitar-laced pop is big these days — just ask The Shins and Death Cab for Cutie. So is a certain, somehow fragile-sounding amalgam of organic instrumentation and low-budget electronic accoutrements — see also The Postal Service, or that other Rilo Kiley side project, The Elected. It seems the indie-rock scene's reaction to emo's anguished bombast is a move toward more clever, quirky and intimately melancholy fare, and that's exactly where Rogue Wave's debut full-length comes in. This Northern California collective blends classic elements of the singer-songwriter milieu with bits of psychedelia and a contemporary openness to experimentation to produce a sunny, strummy, eccentric album that's simultaneously tiny and grand. The tunes avoid too-familiar Americana/ambitious roots-pop hallmarks via a pocket-sized production that almost completely forgoes electric guitar and cymbal crashes. The songwriting is singular and strong, if a bit too shallow for total immersion. It makes for an engaging and enjoyable semi-attentive listen, and is probably the perfect soundtrack to an after-dinner session of Pass The Bong, as well. (www.subpop.com) 1/2
—SCOTT HARRELL
Black Coffee
PEGGY LEE
Verve Master Edition
The established short list of legendary female jazz singers — Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan, perhaps Carmen McRae — does not generally include Peggy Lee. It should. Lee, who grew up in small-town North Dakota and broke in with Benny Goodman's big band, did not fit the archetype: she was blonde (read: white) and spent a good deal of her long, illustrious career bouncing around between pop styles (including the fringes of rock). Black Coffee, first released in 1953 as a 10-inch then expanded three years later into LP format, ranks among the best ever jazz vocal albums. Backed by two small combos, Lee absolutely owns such timeless songs as "Easy Living," "It Ain't Necessarily So," "You're My Thrill" and "Gee Baby, Ain't I Good to You?" Thirty-two at the time of the first sessions, Lee already possessed a voice imbued with a world-weary air — breathy, a bit grainy — built more for intimacy than bombast. She cared not a wit about breaking wine glasses, but instead excelled at telling desperately intimate stories. Lee subtly built her narratives with deftly placed pauses, by bending and elongating just the right notes, by dialing it back to a mere whisper or, ever so occasionally, letting loose with a controlled belt. Black Coffee features a few uptempo swing tunes ("I've Got You Under My Skin," "Love Me Or Leave Me") and here Lee exhibits an absolutely impeccable capacity to swing. This is among the albums that set the standard for a woman singing standards. (www.ververecords.com)
—ERIC SNIDER
The Piano
HERBIE HANCOCK
Columbia/Legacy
Cut in 1978 in Japan for exclusive release in that country, The Piano captures Herbie Hancock solo, recorded in audiophile Direct-To-Disc format, where a performance was analog-recorded in real time to a master acetate. More than a quarter century later, the album still possesses remarkable sound quality, but it's the playing that really matters. Hancock deconstructed three songs from his tenure with Miles Davis — "My Funny Valentine," "On Green Dolphin Street" and "Someday My Prince Will Come" —shifting tempos and feels, reharmonizing, digressing, exploring. He also unveiled four new compositions ("Harvest" being the best known). Although Hancock builds regular crescendos, most of The Piano is pensive, probing and downright elegant. The reissue includes four alternate takes. (www.legacyrecordings.com)
—ERIC SNIDER
This article appears in Nov 17-23, 2004.