By Julie Finley
There is a recurring phenomenon when the offspring of a talented parent tries to come out with something creative and it just sucks. For example . . . anything that Sean Lennon has ever done, and that sums it up! So I never have high hopes from anyone that comes from a top notch pedigree, and the fact they were born into “connections,” is really irritating!
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By Jemiah Jefferson
Tribute albums can be a tricky thing. Gathering the right combination of bands and artists to do the best work in performing new versions of well-known songs has got to be difficult. This is one of the facts that makes this compilation’s success as remarkable as it is. Not every track is a keeper, but the ones that are stand on their own as showcases for the bands performing them as well as the exceptional songwriting that has become one of the Prids’ trademarks.
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By Chelsea Spear
Brattle Theatre, Cambridge, MA
April 22, 2009
The music of Elvis Perkins has a cathartic quality that borders on the spiritual. His vivid, fever-dream lyrics draw on Biblical themes and imagery (note the title of his first album, Ash Wednesday, and its closing song “Good Friday”), his melodies share the memorable simplicity of hymns, and he and his band perform them with great fervor and no small emotion. Thus, it seemed appropriate that they would grace the stage of the Brattle Theatre in Cambridge, Mass.
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By Megashaun
Cartoons are typically not known for their musical scores. In fact, for many that I watched growing up, the music was often more of an afterthought (outside of the main title theme, that is). Incidental music in The Transformers, for instance, was so generic and overused that the show even shared many of its compositions (if they could be called that) with its counterpart half-hour Hasbro commercial, G.I. Joe.
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By Danny R. Phillips
Growing up in a family of country music fanatics I have always been quite aware of the legendary status surrounding one Mr. Conway Twitty. His classic country “slow jams” have been favorites of cover bands, drunken karaoke singers, and honky tonk jukeboxes from Lubbock, Texas to Osaka, Japan.
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By Adam McIntyre
If pressed about my blues preferences, influences, or interests, I’ll stammer for a moment, name some greats, and whatever single, obscure guitarist I can vaguely pluck from my past to show that maybe we have common interests, and that I’ve educated myself a little deeper than your average blues wanker.
It’s much simpler, actually, than naming a few names once I think about it; I’m mostly a blues racist and an elitist. Oops, yeah, did I just call myself a blues racist? That’s weird, definitely, but here’s the deal: I stopped playing blues because I became increasingly self-conscious about coming across as some angsty white kid in a tie, absentmindedly regurgitating legitimately black licks.
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By Chelsea Spear
The Passions first came to me on a cloud of cinema nostalgia, flickering with maroon-tinted images of Laboratory Aim Density Girls and smelling faintly of vinegar. John Heyn, best known for co-directing the infamous Heavy Metal Parking Lot, had cut a short film of China Girl images to the tune of “I’m In Love with a German Film Star.” The images and footage of China Girls left me gobsmacked (more about that here), but the song lingered in my mind long after I first viewed the short. Though the British band’s albums were elusive on this side of the pond, a copy of Thirty Thousand Feet Over China surfaced in a bag of donations my boyfriend received at his job in a library.
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By Less Lee Moore
When first heard Michael Hurtt and His Haunted Hearts, I was dazzled. I’d seen Hurtt play with The Royal Pendletons dozens of times when I lived in New Orleans, but this was something altogether different.
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By Hanna
Presente is a great album—if you can get it. As a result of his breaking with Sony, Renato has released it independently, as he’s emphasized overly clearly in interviews. It’s like a perfect tiny illustration of protectionism: while the independent release has had many advantages—more control over promotion, a more detailed concept and, of course, the uncommercial 17 tracks of the CD—it also means it isn’t for sale anywhere outside of Italy. The Sorcini network has insured it gets shared, but it is a situation that should be resolved, as this is shutting many people out and alienating an already detached market.
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By Noreen Sobczyk
This compilation is culled from covers of the many high quality songs in the Scott Walker catalog. If one wants an emotive, theatrical, “over the top” vocal, inherent to Scott Walker’s delivery—they would do better with the genuine article. On the flip side, if Walker’s show-tune-meets-cabaret delivery is too dramatic for your liking, then this compilation is an excellent way to enjoy these beautiful songs.
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