Burn The Maps
THE FRAMES
Anti-/Epitaph
Irish post-folk/rock outfit The Frames improbably became one of its homeland's biggest acts on little more than shoestring recording budgets and word of mouth, going platinum with indie releases and attracting huge concert crowds on the strength of the music rather than marketing muscle.
Here in the States, lack of distribution for its many import releases has kept the band a cult phenomenon, but highbrow Epitaph Records offshoot Anti- (home to the likes of Tom Waits, Nick Cave and Neko Case, among others) is hoping to up the, ahem, ante with this, the first studio-bred American Frames release.
If previous Frames albums have a consistent Achilles Heel, it's that they too often ignore the endless production possibilities inherent in the group's multifaceted style in favor of representing it as pure, raw, close to the way it sounds live. That approach works well for a lot of bands; it doesn't work as well as it should for The Frames, however, because no studio recording could even begin to approximate the dynamism, unpredictability, and emotional give-and-take of a Frames gig.
The excellent Burn The Maps finally solves the problem by not worrying about it. Intimate, aching folk numbers ("Happy," "Trying," and many others) are free to get quieter than they ever could in a room full of fans. Quirky but still pop-grounded experiments in arrangement, such as "Dream Awake," employ ambient electronics that will never be reproduced on stage. And the quintet's trademarked, cathartic whisper-to-a-scream rock numbers – including "Finally," "Underglass" and longtime live favorite and potential breakthrough hit "Fake" – are appropriately huge and crashing; here, the disc actually does re-create some of the energy of the show, almost accidentally, by making the careening highs and lows bigger than most bands could ever manage live.
Vocalist/songwriter Glen Hansard's voice is still sometimes a little too far back in the mix, the album is still a little too biased in favor of the frail, melancholy stuff, and "Sideways Down" borders on filler. And, sure, fans who've witnessed the live set are still going to miss something when they put this (or any other Frames CD) into the player. But by finally embracing the fundamental differences between the studio and the stage, this superlative combo has crafted both an impressive introduction to new American fans, and its most headphone-friendly release to date. Release date: Feb. 8.
-SCOTT HARRELL
Billy Remembers Billie
BILLIE HOLIDAY
Verve
Does the world need another Billie Holiday comp? Of course – anything to keep the legacy alive, anything to shine a light on the music rather than her profligate life, her tragic mystique. Holiday may be the legendary singer that the fewest people have actually heard. Well, it's never too late. This 15-song primer was produced by Billy Crystal, a lifelong jazz fan whose uncle, Milt Gabler, helmed all but one of these tracks. Billy Remembers Billie is made up of mostly classics that Lady Day recorded (for the Commodore and Decca labels) during the height of her vocal prowess.
Holiday's affiliation with Gabler came about under unique circumstances: It was 1939, and she wanted to record the controversial ballad "Strange Fruit," which took a rueful, poetic look at the lynching of blacks in the South (black bodies swingin' in the Southern breeze/ Strange fruit hangin' from the poplar trees").
Columbia, Holiday's label at the time, wouldn't touch it, so they loaned Holiday to Gabler's fledgling Commodore imprint. "Strange Fruit" became an unlikely hit, and its B-side, the saloon-blues "Fine and Mellow," emerged as one of her signature songs.
After Columbia dropped her in '44, Holiday returned to Gabler, who had become the A&R head for Decca. With his enthusiastic support, the singer crafted such gems as "My Old Flame," "Embraceable You," "As Time Goes By," "I Cover the Waterfront," "Don't Explain," "Lover Man (Oh, Where Can You Be?)" and others. Gabler backed her with small combos, larger ensembles and strings.
Ultimately, though, it was Holiday's inimitable vocal artistry that stood out. Her voice did not possess the pleasing sonority of Ella Fitzgerald or the range of Sarah Vaughan, but she was virtually peerless when it came to wringing emotion from a tune. There's a deep sigh in her voice, a world-weariness in her rasp that peeled away layers of heartbreak and rendered them palpable to listeners.
Holiday did not resort to vocal stunt work – scatting wasn't her thing; instead, she spun consummately human stories, rendering them all the more poignant with interpretive details like subtle bends and elongated notes. There certainly is a tragic quality to this music, but don't just go by the legend – hear it for yourself.
-ERIC SNIDER
The Delivery Man
ELVIS COSTELLO & THE IMPOSTERS
Lost Highway
With The Delivery Man, Elvis Costello proves he still has a few stories to tell. The material is based on a short story he wrote in 1999 about a deliveryman and his lady troubles, and fits perfectly into this rustic and reverb-laden format. Emmylou Harris and Lucinda Williams sing the women's parts, while Costello himself plays both the title character and the narrator. The disc moves between tempered, jazzy fare like Painted From Memory and North and old-school, youthful rock anthems that for years were sorely missing from Costello's catalog. Costello recorded tracks at a tiny studio in Oxford, Miss. after hearing Buddy Guy's 2001 triumph Sweet Tea. But this isn't merely another cliché about a fogie in search of a roots godhead; he's just an English guy playing particularly American music. It's no small feat that Costello wrote an album that sounds both purely derivative, yet completely new.
-MARK SANDERS
This article appears in Feb 2-8, 2005.