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  • Infatueighties: The Royal Court

    mazarati

    There’s not much of note new in stores this week, so I’ve decided to suspend the “New Release of the Week” column until next week, when (hopefully) there’ll be some good stuff to write about. Meanwhile, what say we jump into the wayback machine and soak up some great 80s music, huh? Last time we did some time traveling, we visited the auxiliary Jackson family members and checked out their jams. Today, we move north to Minneapolis, where a little man in purple lorded over the music scene with music that bridged the gap between funk and rock. His name? Prince Rogers Nelson. His music during the decade? (Almost) flawless, From 1980 (“Dirty Mind”) to 1988 (“Lovesexy”), not only did Prince go on one of the longest (if not THE longest) classic album-making streak of any musician ever, but he also introduced us to many, many proteges. The average person wouldn’t be blamed for thinking there was something in the water back in Minneapolis. Here are some of the highlights.

    Prince’s first venture into the word of music overlord-dom resulted in The Time. They wore zoot suits, they were choreographed to the letter, and they had a deliriously campy frontman named Morris (or Mo-is!!). Widely regarded as one of the best live bands of their era, The Time were unfortunately not allowed to play barely anything on the first three albums they recorded. So, essentially, when you’re listening to a Time album, you’re listening to a Prince album with Morris Day on vocals (and in some cases, you can even still hear Prince’s scratch vocals). Of course, the band was far from untalented, as later solo success would show.

    Here you’ll find a TV clip of them performing “777-9311”. As someone with a pretty decent amount of rhythm, I still can’t figure out how people stay on beat for this song. This is what funk is all about.

    After The Time splintered, frontman Morris Day had success as a singer and an actor, Bassist Terry Lewis and keyboardist Jimmy Jam went on to become one of the most successful production teams in history (taking Time members Jellybean Johnson and Monte Moir along for the ride on occasion) and guitarist Jesse Johnson stayed closest to the Prince sound, forming his own band (Jesse Johnson’s Revue) and releasing a couple of well-received albums, including a self-titled one in 1985. Our own David Middleton discussed Johnson in his “45 Revolutions” column last week, here’s a clip of his 1985 synth-pop hit “I Want My Girl”.

    Even Jesse got into the protege act, signing Ta Mara & the Seen, who had one hit single with 1986’s “Everybody Dance”.

    Did you know that “Kiss” was originally not supposed to be recorded by Prince & The Revolution? Prince recorded it for his latest proteges at the time, a band discovered by his bassist, Brown Mark, called Mazarati. After hearing Mazarati’s version of the song, Prince realized he was giving away a gem and took the song back. That song could have made the band’s career (although I doubt it, how many people would have given it a fair hearing? And isn’t “Kiss” too spare to be performed by a full band?), but instead they wound up hitting on a minor level with a song called “100 MPH”. Visually, this is where Motley Crue and Ratt meet Prince & the Revolution. Turn your head away from the funky groove and, yeah, these folks look pretty silly.

    Of course, Prince had an eye for the fairer sex, with the most successful of his female proteges being Vanity 6. Led by a former soft porn actress named Denise Matthews (who Prince allegedly originally wanted to re-christen “Vagina”), the trio only recorded a self-titled record in 1982, but that album is a funk (and a camp) classic. Here’s the video for “Drive Me Wild”. Since splitting the music business in the early Nineties (after a couple of solo albums and movies, including “Action Jackson”), Vanity has been vocal about her drug abuse and the basic hell she was living in during that era. She is now a born-again Christian.

    Finally, let’s leave with the most talented of all the femme Prince proteges, his faithful sidewomen Wendy Melvoin and Lisa Coleman. With him through “1999”, “Purple Rain”, “Around the World in a Day” and “Parade”, they were present for Prince’s most musically fertile period before taking off on their own. Although their musical career never actually caught fire, they continue to make interesting music, and compose and perform on records for everyone and their mother, as well as producing the background music for some of your favorite TV shows.

    Check out their video for “Are You My Baby”, their song with the most Prince-ly undertones, .

    Hopefully this column has satisfied your funk quotient for the day. Now go forth and multiply, or something like that.

  • “For All I Care” – The Bad Plus Adds Vocals

    Badplus

    Recorded in April of last year and released on February 3rd , 2009, the latest Bad Plus album, “For All I Care”, is not exactly a “new” release anymore. Still, I feel compelled to review it here because I believe that the Bad Plus is the most important group in contemporary music today. Unlike the majority of other working bands, it is one of few to actively bridge the gaps between rock, pop, jazz, and, with “For All I Care”, classical music. Certainly, other groups have explored various sonic territories, but no one defies categorization quite like the Bad Plus. From the release of their eponymous debut, the Bad Plus have produced both transformative covers of rock classics to thundering yet sophisticated originals. Their success in doing so has the potential to open the ears of music fans of all stripes, though whether this will happens remains to be seen.

    However, I don’t want to use this post to glorify The Bad Plus’ place in the contemporary music. For All I Care stands out for three reasons: The inclusion of vocalist Wendy Lewis, the absence of original materials, and the use of 20th century classical music. The first two aspects are fundamentally related – I’m not so sure the group is comfortable writing lyrics, so they may have been unable to write new material. Whether this is the only reason there are no originals isn’t clear but it has to be a reason. Ultimately, my only complaint with the album is that the absence of TBP compositions robs the listener of the thrill of hearing the band play new material, not just reworkings of rock songs, however entertaining and radical those reworkings may be.

    Let met start with the positive sides to the album, which far outnumber the negative ones. First, TBP does a great job of redefining – through reharmonization, odd time meters, changed arrangements, etc. – various hits and non-hits from a relatively large sequence of rock and pop history with classics as diverse as “Comfortably Numb”, “Lithium”, and “Barracuda” getting the TBP treatment. Of particular note is “Lithium”, the opening track. Wendy Lewis’ subtle and flat (this not intended as a criticism) vocals provides the perfect vehicle for the the Nirvana classic, while the trio plays a dissonant accompaniment that manages to both stun the listener with its ingenuity and refuse to abandon the moody feeling of the original.

    “Comfortably Numb” again involves a stark contrast between the Lewis’ low key delivery and the trio’s rebellious playing. The song develops from minimalist playing to the grandeur of the chorus back to minimalism and then again to chorus with a harmonic angst that brings out the subtle tension of the song and then finally, after a pounding finish to the chorus, a soft end that is, well, comfortably numb. The Bee Gee’s “How Deep is Your Love” (an interesting inclusion, to say the least) gets completely reworked as well, with a classical-esque introduction from Iverson and a version of the song that is unrecognizable from the original.. Wilco’s “Radio Cure” does not undergo much of a transformation, with the band staying true to the original with some changes in the song structure. Wendy Lewis delivers Jeff Tweedy’s thoughtful lyrics to the tune convincingly – I really thought this was one of the better tracks on the album.

    And, to break up the vocal tracks, the Bad Plus includes three classical covers – Ligeti’s “”, Milton Babbitt’s “Semi-Simple Variations” and Stravinsky’s “Variation d’Apollon”. “Fém” and “Semi-Simple Variations” highlight the band’s incredible syncopation and “Variation d’Apollon” is a beautiful, lifting piece. The pieces are wonderfully arranged and feature the most daring playing on the album, though I’m not sure they fit in perfectly with the vocal tracks.

    As I mentioned earlier, my only complaint with the album is the lack of originals. TBP compositions like “1972 Bronze Medalist”, from These Are the Vistas and “Physical Cities”, from Prog are, for me, the highlights of these albums. TBP’s covers are great but the meat of their music is really the originals. Still, the album gets my praise for seamlessly bringing Wendy Lewis into the TBP “sound”. Whether you are a TBP fan or not, please go out and buy this album!

  • Flute is the New Pink

     

    Growing up, I hated the color pink. I was a tomboy, and considered pink a Barbie color.

    As I got older, I discovered that I actually look pretty decent in pink. I also developed a thing for men who wear pink (no one wears pink as well as Rufus Thomas.

    Of course, it’s all about how one wears pink (or any article of clothing). Anyone who wears pink, especially a man, knows that a shirt could never compromise one’s sense of self – that really, not much can. Despite pink’s booming Hello Kitty popularity, I’ve come full circle and now have a healthy appreciation for it.

    In the world of music, playing the flute is the new pink.

    Back in grade school, I played alto saxophone in the band. The flute section always bored me – it was comprised of all girls, and stereotypically giggly and rather annoying ones at that. They only seemed interested in using the flute as a soprano instrument, and their high notes rang like dog whistles. Unless they had solos, the spastic drums, rampant tuba, and bleating saxophones drowned them out.

    Until recently, I felt about the flute the way I used to feel about pink. Then, You Tube links of beat box/flautist Nathan Lee started making the rounds. Lee, lithe, shiny bald, and clad in sweatpants for his Google London gig, seems unassuming at first as he wheedles a few whistles from the flute. Then he starts beat boxing – while he’s playing the flute. This dichotomy, not unlike Lee’s own half-Scottish and half-Indian background, defies convention. Lee reinvents both beat boxing and flute playing, and tosses in a bit of Indian flavor, funk, jazz, and hip hop beats along the way.

    Two aspects of Lee’s performance amaze me – the first is that he plays the flute and beat boxes at the same time. He beat boxes with enough force and precision to use those exhalations to power the flute. Anyone not watching him would assume that two people were playing. The second is the surprisingly wonderful musical dichotomy he creates. Not only does his performance fuse genre and sound, but it also produces a fusion in connotation and effect – suddenly, the flute is the least girlie instrument around, and beat boxing trills with finesse.

    Perhaps Lee is an exception, a musical universe unto himself. I wondered if anyone else was using the flute in a new and interesting way.

    Then I went to Ryles Jazz Club in Inman Square and saw the Lance Martin Band. They’re a pretty typical soft jazz/blues band that specializes in funky remakes of classic songs, particularly by the Beatles. What’s unique about this band is that the frontman, Lance Martin, leads with a flute. He’s a rather big fellow with a beret and a groove, and he almost consumes the silver. Rather than producing vocals, he sings with his flute. Martin’s flute is like a bumblebee you can’t catch, flitting around the stage, soaring and diving and buzzing and looping above and around the songs. Trying to follow it is dizzying, so you ground yourself in the familiar bass and the piano’s 7th chords and allow the flute to pull through the whole thing like a fine thread.

    The flute’s mobility allows for some fun shenanigans, such as Lance Miller’s Letterman-esque foray onto Hampshire Street. In the middle of a song, Miller, still piping away, burst through the double doors into the kitchen, then out the back exit onto the street where he danced and played to passersby as though he were Inman Square’s own Pan. The audience watched through the window and listened via Martin’s wireless mike, appreciating how the flute’s size allows it to transcend what we previously considered to be its entertainment value.

    The first flute, carved out of swan bone, was found in a cave in Northern France over 30,000 years ago. Since then, the flute, fife, and/or recorder have appeared in Greek mythology, ancient Egypt, and the Bible. From the Pied Piper to Leonardo da Vinci to Jean-Pierre Rampal to Nathan Lee, the flute has demonstrated its staying power, and not just because of its historical roots. Despite my initial doubts, the flute supports reinvention and the infinite possibilities of musical creativity. Like pink, the flute can be elevated above stereotype and expectation, so long as you keep your mind and ears open.