James Brown
Live at the Apollo Volume II: Deluxe Edition
It's commonly understood that James Brown's first Live at the Apollo, released in 1963, is an unmitigated classic (some hold it aloft as the greatest live album ever). The natural tendency is to anoint the '67 sequel as same. Not quite. In the four years between the two Apollo albums, Brown basically invented funk with the Papa's Got a Brand New Bag and I Got You (I Feel Good). So why does it take until nearly 10 minutes into disc 2 for JB and his gargantuan ensemble to really kick out the funky jams?
This deluxe edition restores nearly all of two Apollo sets, expanding what was originally a heavily edited double LP. The Famous Flames are a well-oiled machine throughout and the Godfather evokes the appropriate Apollo-esque enthusiasm. The problem, such as it is, rests with the program. Disc 1 takes on the patina of an old-style rhythm & blues revue, with a couple of legit standards (I Wanna Be Around and That's Life) followed by a shuffling Kansas City and 19-minute version of It's a Man's Man's World peppered with playful sexual innuendo — perhaps a tour de force in its time and place, but rather laborious here.
When the funk does hit, with Let Yourself Go, it really hits, fueled by a double-drummer assault and full of punchy horns and slippery rhythm guitar. JB and the Flames work the groove through There Was a Time and I Feel All Right, and then shift into the even funkier Cold Sweat, which was the forthcoming single. You can practically feel the walls shaking. Then it's back to a few more shuffles and ballads (with a 28-second tease of I Feel Good squeezed in). Apollo II clearly proves that James Brown was the Godfather of Soul, but he was yet to fully embrace his place as Father of Funk. (Polydor/Universal)
—Eric Snider 
Unloco
Healing
When will it end? Hailing from Austin, the youngsters in Unloco are no more or no less than the next groovecore band to slightly rearrange the last groovecore band's components, which, of course, they got from the guys that came a month or so before them. Down-tuned guitars. Lock-step rhythms. The occasional electronic tinge. And a vocalist who's trying to raise everyday adolescent uncertainty to the level of existential doubt. Unloco's delivery attempts to combine Papa Roach's resonant angst with Korn's heaviness and psychosis; there's not much in the way of rap here, but they work the breathy-to-broken style, trademarked by one Jonathan Davis, to death. The textured Face Down, careening Know One and dynamic Bystander offer occasional glimpses of talent and identity; however, the odd inventive riff or memorable melody isn't nearly worth wading through an ocean of tired passages and borrowed drama. (Maverick)
—Scott Harrell 
Kaito
You've seen us … you must have seen us …
Taking the way-out-but-still-catchy rhythms and guitar stylee of Goo-era Sonic Youth and rendering them cuddlier than SY ever wanted to be, Kaito offers up a contender for party record of the summer. The adorability factor is amped up by a handful of repetitive/rhymey song titles (Bow Wow, So-So, Shoot Shoot, Good is Good). The vocal team of guitarist Nikki Colk and bassist Gemma Cullingford is reminiscent of the cuter, cooing side of riot grrl, combined with yelping Slits-ish abandon (Colk does a spot-on Ari Up impersonation). 6×7 is a unique slice of crawling, vaguely Eastern pop, with opium-addled percussion and weirder-than-thou guitar, and Shoot Shoot puts mid-period PJ Harvey through a giddy ringer made up of guitar effects, cheerleader cries and nitrous oxide. (Devil in the Woods, www.devilinthewoods.com)
—Stefanie Kalem
Me First and the Gimme Gimmes
Blow in the Wind
Take a five-man punk super-group — including members of NOFX, Foo Fighters, Lagwagon and others — and turn 'em loose on an array of '60s tunes (Dylan's Blowin' in the Wind, Scott McKenzie's hippie anthem San Francisco, Del Shannon's Runaway, Cat Stevens' Wild World) crank up the amps and distortion and, bam, not an instant classic but a helluva fun disc for drivin' and/or partyin'. The concept is intrinsically ironic, but the actual renditions are pretty reverent, albeit revved-up to fit. Especially grin-inducing are versions of My Boyfriend's Back and Stand By Your Man, which naturally take on a gay bent. And most of the selections have better hooks than your garden-variety pop-punk song circa 2000. The idea does wear a bit thin after awhile, rendering it ultimately disposable. That's OK; after the fun wears off, check out the band's two prior releases that juice up '70s soft-rock hits and Broadway show tunes. Me First and the Gimme Gimmes play the Vans Warped Tour on Sun., July 29, at the USF Soccer Field. (Fat Wreck Chords, www.fatwreck.com)
—Eric Snider
Tierney Sutton
Blue in Green
Very rarely does a jazz singer develop a true ensemble-like interaction with instrumentalists; more often it boils down to the less intimate meeting of vocalist and sidemen. On Blue In Green, a tribute to the late pianist Bill Evans, Tierney Sutton has achieved the sublime sort of simpatico wherein a singer is truly part of the band, and the players approach something like equal footing with the frontwoman. Blue in Green blends Evans originals (Waltz For Debby, Very Early) with standards that were stalwarts of his repertoire — like the Miles Davis-penned title track, Someday My Prince Will Come, Autumn Leaves and several others. Sutton, a Bostonian who got her break in L.A., mixes just the right elixir of delicacy, brass and swagger. On the slower numbers (which dominate the set and eclipse the less-satisfying faster fare) her singing taps into the same sort of ruminative melancholy that was a hallmark of Evans' playing. And it doesn't hurt that her formidable pianist Christian Jacobs possesses the same sort of Evan-essence. (Telarc, www.telarc.com)
—Eric Snider 
This article appears in Jul 26 – Aug 1, 2001.