female singer

Acoustic Project

alicia — Thu, 02 Dec 2010 12:00:00 +0000

When I moved to Virginia over four years ago, I didn’t know what folk music was. Growing up in Portland Oregon, I was raised on the quickly growing West Coast indie rock scene. But sometime in my teenage years I started finding artists like Sparklehorse, Nickel Creek, Laura Gibson, and Blitzen Trapper and I couldn’t get enough. I didn’t know then what it was about these different artists’ sounds that made my mouth water, but there was something they had in common, something earthy, something gritty, that I absolutely loved.

And when I arrived in Virginia, it finally dawned on me. It was folk. It was bluegrass. It was Americana; that’s what I liked so well. I found myself in the pocket of “real” American country music, the influence of which I had been drooling over for years. This is where that sound was bottled. I was at the source of what had morphed into the post-folk-indie-rock that I had been listening to on the other side of the country.

Laura Cortese, too, is a migrant from West to East Coast, having grown up in The Bay Area and then moving East to attend Berklee College of Music in Boston. Based in New England since, she has reached acclaim both at home and abroad, touring the U.S. as well as overseas in the countries where all that fiddling began—Ireland, UK, and Denmark. Her newest effort is called Acoustic Project: a collaboration with Natalie Haas on cello, Brittany Haas with five string and fiddle, Hanneke Cassel on fiddle, and Laura playing fiddle and singing. Singing quite well, I might add. She is well suited to her genre, and melds sugary pop songs and traditional fiddling that makes for a happily surprising combination.

The first track, “Overcome”, is deeply felt and lovely, with the instrumental line and the vocals moving between complimenting and contradicting each other. It is as if Laura has split her vocal chords and is harmonizing with herself: the instrumental and her vocals are equally strong in delivering her voice. “Perfect Tuesdays” is much less interesting, with lyrics that lie flat and fail to surprise. The middle two tracks, however, “5 Tune” and “Du Petit Sarny” are absolutely perfect.

Without a vocal line at all, the listener can dive into the instrumental energy that these women have together, reveling in their momentum and the tension between the lines. “Women of the Ages” is a welcome respite after two such energetic tracks. Harp-like finger picking and the simplicity of structure allow the listener to relax once more into the album. The poem that Laura sings is by John Beaton from 2005, with the refrain “We’re the women of the ages wooed to walk to the aisles of grief; we’re the wear on well-worn pages where posterity retraces deeds of men in bold relief.” A profound image, rightly sung simply and clearly to let the poem be heard. “Wade On In” is probably the best showing of Laura’s voice.

There is a beautiful depth and ease that she demonstrates here, and again it is in delicious tension with the instrumental line. I wish she would embrace her lower vocal range more often—it is rich and mellow. Finally, “Greasy Coat” finishes the album. A fun track, but a little out of control, and it lacks the subtlety of the other songs.

The album is overall an enjoyable listen, a perfect accompaniment to a rainy day or a drive in the country. The lyrics, for the most part, invoke a pleasant introspection and calm energy. Some tracks are more successful than others; the music succeeds when the different instruments and Laura’s voice all play well against each other. It is the friction between the lines, like the friction of a bow grinding the violin, which makes this music exciting. On this album, sometimes that friction exists and sometimes it doesn’t.

Written by: Beth Fagan, December 2nd 2010

Dancing on the Moon

admin — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 16:00:00 +0000

By Lisa Bell

Lisa Bell delivers the goods on her third album, mixing blues, jazz, pop, and roots into a bright, sparkling mix. Her voice can be both polished and loose, and shimmering washes of percussion, chimes, and layered instrumentation provide a worthy backdrop to her lyrics.

“Change Is Free,” the story of an unemployed woman facing daunting economic prospects, is the disc’s standout track, with a funky vibe, heavy beat, and touches of organ. Rather than embracing despair, she opts for change. “I can wait for the shining knight to save the day / I can pray that an angel comes my way... but change is up to me.” An accordion gives “After All” a mellow, European feel. It’s a song of struggle and redemption, accepting responsibility for past mistakes but moving on. Bell’s vocal perfectly suits the languorous tone of the hip-swaying bossa nova beat on “Misty Roses,” another highlight.

Bell gets loose with “Stand Up,” a quirky, danceable tune with prominent drums, organ, and electric guitar creating blasts of sound, and there is a comic element to “How Long,” in which a woman deals with insomnia and delayed flights while waiting to be reunited with her lover. Bell’s voice is full of yearning on “The Last Time,” in which an old love is renounced, with piano adding depth to this ballad.

The varied material on the disc provides plenty of opportunities for Bell to show off her versatile voice, which conveys longing, acceptance, hopefulness, anticipation, and joy in turn. With superb guitar and percussion throughout, it’s clear she is interested in each song not just as a showcase for herself but as a means of communication between artist and listener. Mostly, you get the sense that Bell loves what she’s doing and wants to share the beauty and excitement of these songs with you. Dancing On The Moon is an enjoyable outing of both smooth and improvisational songs, with an upbeat feel, and the blend of styles makes it perfect for the musically adventurous.

Written by: Karen Duda, August 26th 2010

Levantine Indulgence

admin — Thu, 27 May 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Gaida

Palmyra Recordings

Singer and composer Gaida’s debut album Levantine Indulgence is named for Levant, the Fertile Crescent’s desert oasis. Aptly named, this album offers listeners an abundance of vocal and instrumental styles that even the most resistant listeners can find nourishing and enchanting.

The opening track, “Dream,” begins with rhythmic clapping and percussion and a chorus of male voices who share vocals with the lead singer. I should clarify by referring to sharing and “trading.” This distinction is important because the contrast of Gaida’s voice with the male singers makes this short song into a true performance. The vocal banter between Gaida and the men reminded me of a musical where the lead female actor is center stage and the men in the chorus sing to her with the purpose of wooing or impressing her. But in the case of “Dream,” the men sing with Gaida at the end of the song. Unlike a traditional musical from an earlier era, where the woman needs to fend off potential suitors with clever lyrics and a silky voice, in this modern version Gaida works with the men, but the song is still decidedly hers.

“Kaifa Uhibuka” transports the listener to a smoky, jazz club with purple walls and red, plush booths. When I close my eyes and listen to this track, I’m a patron of this club, sipping gin and smoking a clove cigarette, while I lean back into my lush surroundings to enjoy the music. I despise gin and I no longer smoke, but the song evokes feelings of real or imagined indulgence, and yet sadness. I felt that this song represented the overall mood of the album even more than the title track.

Another track that evoked this mood was the beautiful ballad “Ghayeb.” The piano, cello, and flute blend with Gaida’s vocals to create a song that expresses love, longing, and caring. Despite the fact that the lyrics are not in English, my eyes filled with tears as I listened to “Ghayeb.” Without even knowing what Gaida was saying, I could feel the pain and loss in her voice. When you hear a song like this, it can cause you to have a flashback to a situation that may have been painful, or one that caused you to feel a sense of bittersweet regret. Granted, this isn’t exactly a desirable feeling, but if a song can make you feel this way, I think that’s pretty powerful.

Gaida has lived in Germany, Damascus, Detroit, Paris, Kuwait, and New York. Through the incorporation of jazz, bossa nova, ballad, Tarab (ecstasy) songs, Arab folk, and traditional Arabic maqam (modes) and improvisational style in her music, it is easy to see that she has carried pieces of these places with her as she has traveled the globe. Some people would create a scrapbook or a photo album of their diverse living experiences; Gaida has produced an audio diary of her musical and emotional journeys, and the listener can feel her sentiment with beat of the bass, the raining piano notes, and memorable melodies. On the album cover, the artist in fact states that she, “will always sing with tears close to my eyes, beats pounding my fragile heart, and care wrapping the entire world.”

Written by: Rachel Muzika Scheib, May 27th 2010

No Rest

admin — Mon, 05 Apr 2010 16:01:00 +0000

By Christy and Emily

Klangbad

Brooklyn songstress roommates, longtime collaborators, and bestie brunettes Christy Edwards and Emily Manzo have hipster cred out the wazoo. So do loads of other borough-based bands, but few have the raw talent of these two singer-songwriter women—a label that hardly defines the true depth of their talent. Their music, at times hauntingly sparse, reverberates with their lush voices and minimal instrumentation, often just Christy’s guitar or Emily’s keyboard. Sound cloying? The opposite is true. There is nothing pretentious or difficult about this album.

On No Rest, their second release this year, the gals focus on teasing out their folk influences, veering away from their psychedelic roots. At the same time, they maintain their sound experimentation and focus less on complicated lyrics. Lines like “Why not live a life of truth/Like your siblings” could be as autobiographical as they could be creative poetry put to music. No matter that their words are uncomplicated; every sound out of their mouths is truly beautiful, and there is additional beauty in simplicity.

“Idle Hands” has some of the best rhythmic composition on the album and draws to mind a more serious Girls Guitar Club, starting Christy and Emily instead of Karen Kilgariff & Mary Lynn Rajskub.

“Here Comes the Water Now” is a nod to natural disaster—and how unfortunately timely. The nearly rhyming lyrics—which pay off at the end—kept me fully engaged with the story as well as the music.

Better decide on what to bring Take a look around at everything There’s only so much time will allow Here comes the water... now

Closing track “Amaryllis”—which is coincidentally my favorite flower—uses the annual as a metaphor for periods of light and darkness. If you’ve never cared for these bulbous houseplants, just know that they’re like any other bulb. After blooming in the spring, they require months of darkness during the winter. In my experience, this typically means putting them in a large paper bag and tucking them in a dark corner until the springtime frost has vanished. C&E no doubt like these big horn-shaped flowers, as they’ve dedicated a whole song to them and sing, “Oh how lovely the plant you keep in the dark.”

From the album’s opening line—“I’m not scared of what I can’t see anymore”—to the sonic waves, gorgeous vocals, and wind chime-type sound effects, this album will mesmerize you. Let it.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, April 5th 2010

Voice of an Angel: Talking to Jill Andrews

admin — Mon, 22 Mar 2010 16:01:00 +0000

Interview with Jill Andrews

When I first spoke to singer Jill Andrews, I was quite shocked when she first answered the phone. Her voice was low, slow, and groggy, which wasn’t what I was expecting. You see, Andrews quite literally has the voice of an angel.

As it turned out, I was waking her up from a peaceful nap with her infant son, Nico. Nico was born around the time that Andrews’ critically acclaimed, Tennessee-based band, The Everybodyfields, broke up. She and her band were part of a growing wave of young musicians emerging from the south who are meshing the music of their region (country, bluegrass, and blues) with the music they grew up listening to (punk and indie rock) to create an interesting sound of their own. The Everybodyfields garnered a lot of attention early in their five-year career because of Andrews beautiful harmonizing with bandmate Sam Quinn and their constant touring with the increasingly popular Avett Brothers.

After the split, Andrews got to work creating music of her own, and recently released her first self-titled EP. No one can sing like Jill Andrews; no one can convey heartbreak and loneliness and aching pain like she can in just a single line. The EP is six songs of simple, pure, and heartfelt music, and though Andrews has a lot on her plate (a recent tour and her first child), she decided to release another six-track album recorded live at Eddie's Attic in Decatur, Georgia to benefit the International Rescue Committee and help the earthquake survivors in Haiti.

Who were your musical influences growing up?

My first tape was Diana Ross, and I wore that tape out when I was a kid. I have to say, though, that my first huge musical influence was Bette Midler. When I got to high school, I was really into folk music and started listening to things that weren’t on the radio, like The Jayhawks and Wilco. I was also really into Joni Mitchell.

A lot of what I started listening to in high school was influenced by my surroundings and where I came from. Living in the mountains of Tennessee influences the music we listened to, and the mountains were the perfect backdrop it. The music I like most now is the type of music I write and play. I like really emotional music. When I listen to songs, I want to feel something. I want to dirty dance or cry my eyes out.

When did you realize you wanted to be a musician?

I can remember always wanting to be famous, but my parents tell a different story. We always went to this donut shop together, and when I was a really little kid, my dad asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I said a donut waitress. In high school I was in youth choir, school choir, and church choir, and all of my instructors were really supportive and made sure that I knew my voice was going to be heard.

When did you meet Sam Quinn?

Around the same time I started playing guitar, I went to summer camp. Sam was a camp counselor, and he asked me to sing a song, so I put on a cheesy karaoke tape and sang to it. I’m sure he thought I was crazy. After the first week of camp, I realized I really needed a guitar because everyone who had a guitar sucked. I knew if I practiced I could be good at it. I’m sure I made a fool of myself at first, but I began writing songs immediately after getting my guitar.

What do you hope people take from your music?

I’ve always been into helping people. I was a psychology major in college, and I worked with kids who had behavioral issues, but I quit to pursue music full-time. For a long time I struggled with the decision because being a singer seemed too egocentric. Every night the spotlight was shining on me. I got all dressed up and it was kind of like, “Hey, look at me!” I’ve since made peace with it, though. Music helps the emotional state of the world. People need music, and I need to keep making music for the sake of my own well being, so it all works out in the end.

Written by: Tina Vasquez, March 22nd 2010

Cradle Songs

admin — Sat, 20 Mar 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Kitka

Diaphonica Recordings

Although happily childfree, I like kids and am intrigued by that idiosyncratic collective experience known as childhood. I am especially fascinated by the many ways we share the histories, humor, and ideologies of our cultures. I try to stay abreast of how these things are communicated. I pay close attention to what music is marketed to children (when, why, and by whom). I'm also a lover of a cappella and a Russophile to boot—all of which more than explain a desire to review Cradle Songs, the latest album from American all-women's vocal ensemble Kitka.

A quick glance at the band's bio would lead any listener to believe that there is simply nothing that Kitka cannot accomplish. Indeed, theirs is a truly inspiring career. The world-renowned ensemble—whose name means “bouquet” in both Bulgarian and Macedonian—has been standing tall as a shining example of musical integrity ever since their humble beginnings in 1979, performing as a group of enthusiastic amateurs. Since then they've transformed into a professional group with a revolving roster of singers, releasing nine albums on their own Diaphonica label, lending their talents to creative endeavors great and small, and wowing audiences around the world. They expend a tremendous amount of energy on research, carefully culling authentic songs and stories from Eastern Europe. The choral collective operates out of Oakland, California as a non-profit organization, sometimes selling songbooks to accompany their album releases and offering vocal workshops. If their primary mission is to share the beauty of traditional Eastern European music, then it would seem giving back to the community comes in as a close second.

Unless boasting big-name talent or universal appeal, it's rare for children's music to draw accolades from mainstream media outlets. Yet Kitka's Cradle Songs has garnered glowing praise from National Public Radio and The Los Angeles Times, and it's easy to understand why. Women of varying ages, races and backgrounds lend their voices to a stunning selection of international lullabies, mostly from countries in the Mediterranean and Eastern Europe. Much like their colleagues Le Mystère des Voix Bulgares Kitka is a group that excels at “exquisite harmonies.”

As would be expected, this is a predominantly vocal outing. Musical instruments are used sparingly and are often unique. For example, the CD opens with the Russian Jewish tune “Cradle Song,” which features both a toy piano and a toy glockenspiel. The result is eerily tranquil. Cradle creaks are a listed instrument on “Dzurk, Dzurk,” a song from the Russian Federation republic of Komi. Bulgaria's “Lale Li Si, Zjumbjul Li Si, Gjul Li Si” is awash in a warm keening wave of polyphony that leaves the listener spellbound. Kitka even manages to incorporate a hybrid bedtime story, featuring elements from Russian fairy tales and Hungarian stories, with the Ukrainian “Hajči, Meni, Hajči” sung over the top. One odd note worth mention: according to the translations provided, six of the seventeen lullabies specifically address male children. Could that be why the songs were saved for posterity? Could this be an indication of favoritism of male children in these cultures?

Written by: M. Brianna Stallings, March 19th 2010

People Eating People

admin — Sat, 30 Jan 2010 09:00:00 +0000

By People Eating People

The Control Group

So, back in the day, I was in a struggling band in Seattle. And back in that day, one of the biggest breaks a struggling band could get was getting a blurb written about them in The Stranger, the local indie newspaper (edited by none other than Dan Savage, of “Savage Love” fame). While my band was scrambling between shows, staying up way too late at practice, and generally creating plenty of VH1 Behind the Music drama, another band was stealing all of the time in The Stranger: Mon Frere.

When members of my band said their name, it sounded like it should be in italics and in caps, just because we said it through gritted teeth in a mean voice, as in, “Oh, how sweet, Mon Frere got another piece in The Stranger!” (Not that our music could even really be compared—my band and Mon Frere sounded just about as similar as Elton John and Black Flag). So, I admit that when I saw Nouela Johnston went solo and has a new album with her solo act, People Eating People, I was all over it! Heck Yes! Revenge!

Well, here are the facts: I really like People Eating People. I was fully planning on hearing something that I’d heard before (piano plus angst multiplied by the square root of Tori Amos, post-Strange Little Girls, roughly equals something irritating), but People Eating People is really, really good. I don’t even have to totally hold myself back from gritting my teeth as I agree with Stranger columnist Megan Seling. Johnston’s sound lies with Fiona Apple (minus my mom asking me if I’m feeling okay when I’m listening to her), Regina Spektor (minus the kitsch), and Amanda Palmer (minus those funky tattooed eyebrows). Only (sigh!) I like her more than all of the previous three. There. I said it.

“For Now” makes me teary-eyed in a way that Fiona Apple could only do back when I was about sixteen. “Rain, Rain” is funky and quirky without being obnoxiously so (and yes, even Spektor can overdo the quirky at times). I like Amanda Palmer quite a lot, but Johnston just about slays her with a jazzy bravado and riffing on the old jazz standard “Summertime” in her song “Let’s Rage.” And, finally, let’s face it: She just kills with her wickedly fantastic lyricism. Take “Supernatural Help”: “I don’t need supernatural help/I can fuck things up myself.” Well put.

What makes People Eating People work is that Johnston keeps things simple, letting her voice and her piano speak by themselves when appropriate, and bringing in drums and other accouterments only when they are needed. Gee, she’s so great that I don’t even have to be jealous that Matt Bayles mastered her disc. He only was responsible for mixing, engineering, or producing (or all three) bands like Botch, Mastodon, The Murder City Devils, and Pearl Jam, to name but a few. Not me. I’m just not the jealous type.

Written by: Emily S. Dunster, January 30th 2010

Broken Cookies

admin — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 09:00:00 +0000

By Annie Dinerman

Blue Bird

While there are plenty of catchy numbers on Broken Cookies, the second full-length album from Ohio native Annie Dinerman, it is her lyrics that set her apart from her peers in the folk-pop category and make her songs memorable. This gift sparkles on “My Ex-Boyfriend,” in which she cleverly starts each line with “You remind me of my ex-boyfriend,” but then juxtaposes the ex’s bad qualities with the good qualities of her current love interest: “You remind me of my ex-boyfriend / yet you actually do like your job” or “but you’ve got manners and you’re a thinker.”

I smiled at the end, as the song’s refrain changed to “You remind me of my next boyfriend,” indicating that this man has potential after all. Dinerman's love of wordplay is also apparent on “Big Dog,” in which a stubborn canine is a metaphor for a philandering lover. “You broke your leash and ran,” she sings.

The witty lyrics and lovely melody of “One Planet At A Time” make this plea for environmental protection amusing rather than preachy. Dinerman advocates cleaning up Earth before humans explore other worlds, an unconventional, humorous, and insightful position. “This beautiful messed-up world is ours / so why do they spend my taxes on Mars?” The jaunty “In The Dark” concerns a lonely woman who overhears her older neighbor’s romantic escapades through the apartment wall and wonders why she doesn’t have a paramour herself. “He’s got gray hair / he’s got wrinkles / he’s got a pension / he’s got a lover,” she belts out. By the end of the entertaining tune, she rather hopefully decides to rekindle her own love life.

Dinerman's more poignant songs also shine. “Broken Cookies” recounts a memorable incident in which a young girl and her mother buy a box of broken cookies from a bakery and scarf them down in the car; she captures the 4-year-old’s joy of a lark with her mother perfectly, down to the “green icing, powdered sugar, marmalade” cookie bits. Sadly for our young protagonist, her mother refused to buy the broken cookie bits again, and subsequently other sweets were disappointing. The post break-up song “Different Now,” is refreshing as it acknowledges that “life is still a bitch sometimes” and that healing occurs slowly. It is neither a revenge fantasy of a woman scorned or a triumphant tale of dumping a lover and setting out on new adventures, but instead addresses the very real hurt that almost any breakup produces.

While Dinerman's material is solidly in the folk tradition, she displays a mastery of various forms, from the slow, introspective, and melancholy “A King and a Hero” to the no-holds-barred torch ballad “Stole My Soul.” Soaring melodies showcase her rich voice; the instrumentation primarily consists of guitar, bass, piano, and drums but occasionally wanders into wider territory, such as the castanets and conga on “Egyptian Cotton.”

Too often folk music is thought of as low-key, something to be played in quiet coffeehouses as background noise. Dinerman shows that a singer-songwriter can tackle a wide array of topics with humor and heartfelt emotion while making deeply memorable music that will have you humming and tapping your feet.

Written by: Karen Duda, January 26th 2010

Know Better Learn Faster

admin — Sat, 09 Jan 2010 08:59:00 +0000

By Thao with The Get Down Stay Down

Kill Rock Stars

“Messy” and “complicated” could very well be the two best words for defining romantic love. As suggested by the title of Thao with The Get Down Stay Down’s latest record, Know Better Learn Faster, the brokenhearted masses could easily avoid painful relationships if they were just plain smarter and quicker learners. Alas, we as humans aren’t always the best decision makers, and as a small consolation, that’s why we get great break-up albums like this one.

On their second release for KRS, Thao with The Get Down Stay Down offers a varied record that is mostly energetic but also studded with a few mellow tracks. Drummer Willis Thompson, bassist and keyboardist Adam Thompson, and singer and guitarist Thao Nguyen have struck a fine balance of pacing on this album, avoiding any clichéd or sappy songs. The music itself is so lively that Know Better Learn Faster can be listened to at any time and in any mood.

Complementing the vibrant music are Nguyen’s capable songwriting abilities. She has a knack for quirky, attention-grabbing one-liners. On “Trouble Was For,” she opens the track by sultrily singing, “Everybody please put your clothes back on/We must see what the trouble was for,” and on “Body,” Nguyen pointedly asks, “What am I, just a body in your bed?”

“The Clap” gives the album an ominous and threatening opening. It’s a half-minute track complete with hand claps and layered vocals that repeats, “If this is how you want it ok, ok.” Sonically, this is as dark as the album gets, and while other tunes on Know Better Learn Faster are slowed and melancholic, none seem as chilling as the opener.

In most break-ups, there always seems to be a period of longing for the other to come back. This is a theme that is brought up frequently by Nguyen, like on “When We Swam,” where the plea is sung to “bring your hips to me,” or again on “Body,” where Nguyen makes a desire known by asking, “Won’t you reach for the body in your bed?”

But like Nguyen’s voice, which is strong and full-bodied, there’s a sense of resolve throughout the record to accept that the relationship is truly finished. On “Good Luck and Goodbye,” Nguyen sings, “Take care of your neck and spine and good luck and goodbye,” as if she is giving a reminder to learn from the past and to protect yourself from letting a relationship break you apart.

The dance-inducing “Easy” closes the album. It begins with Nguyen reminding us that “sad people dance, too.” It’s a great way to end this enjoyable album. Thao with The Get Down Stay Down leaves us with the knowledge that break-ups are never easy, but somehow, falling in love is still worth it.

Written by: Beverly Jenkins-Crockett, January 9th 2010

Lady Love

admin — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 01:07:00 +0000

By LeToya

Capitol Records

It's hard to believe that it's been over ten years since Destiny's Child released their first album. I was a teenager at the time, and as a big fan of bubblegum pop, I always enjoyed their music. One of my favorite Destiny's Child songs was “Independent Women;” their music had a sassy, you-go-girl vibe to it (although I'm sure many feminists prefer their empowering anthems to come from artists who aren't so “Bootylicious”). A decade later, not much has changed; I still listen to their music, now with a slight twinge of nostalgia.

And all the women of Destiny's Child have since become “independent.” Founding members LaTavia Roberson and LeToya Luckett left the group early on due to management disputes, and the other members eventually followed suit. Beyoncé Knowles is not the only member to have found success after Destiny's Child; Luckett just released Lady Love, her second solo effort. An R&B/pop fusion, Lady Love's upbeat cuts are infectious and fun. Standout tracks include the Rihanna-soundalike “She Ain't Got...,” the slow jam “Over,” and the funky beats of “After Party” and “Drained.” Lady Love is a radio-friendly record that will be likely enjoyed by pop and R&B lovers.

Some famous friends also provide guest vocals on this album—“Love Rollercoaster” features rapper Mims, “Take Away Love” co-stars British songstress Estelle, and Ludacris guests on “Regret.” I was very curious to see what “Regret” would sound like since Ludacris is not famous for having particularly progressive lyrics, but this is pretty restrained anthem about dumping a no-good boyfriend.

Indeed, this is the predominant theme on the album, with Luckett telling off a litany of lovers for doing her wrong. Some of that old Destiny's Child “Girl Power” vibe comes through on a few of the cuts, like when she chides an ex-boyfriend for spending all her money, I can't help but think of “Bills, Bills, Bills.” This is a rather interesting contrast to “She Ain't Got...” which is extremely catchy but has somewhat desperate lyrics threatening “that ho,” a woman competing for the affections of her partner. (“Does she cook like me? Clean like me? No, she ain't got sh*t on me!”) The “cheating men” theme gets a bit tired—but music is therapeutic, so perhaps this album was a way of working through some frustrations. And hopefully, she didn't really mean it when she sang about chasing “the other woman” with a baseball bat.

Written by: Beeb Ashcroft, December 9th 2009

Selenidad: Selena, Latinos and the Performance of Memory

admin — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 00:58:00 +0000

By Deborah Paredez

Duke University Press

“This is not a book about Selena, but about what it means to remember her,” explains the author in the opening statement of her book. Remembering Selena is a remedy that releases the emotions of her grieving family, her fans, and those who became engaged in her music only after discovering the impact that she had on Latino communities.

Selena, a pop diva from Corpus Christi Texas, was murdered by her fan club president, Yolanda Saldívar on March 31, 1995. Instantly, Selena became a posthumous icon—a symbol—the object of adoration by many. Selena’s museum was erected in her honour in Corpus Christi, and Selena’s monument graces the downtown area of her native city. Selena: A Musical Celebration of her Life _(2001), the film _Selena (1997) with Jennifer López, and even A Conversation with Academics about Selena that aired on television (1999) explore her life and how she changed the perception of Latino music. In 2003, Selena Live - The Last Concert, which included her famous hit "Como la Flor" (Like the Flower), was released on DVD in her memory. It also served as a method for experiencing latinidad as an effective mode of belonging.

Who was Selena? Selena Quintanilla-Pérez, lead singer of Selena y Los Dinos started singing at the age of five. She was a U.S.-born Latina who grew up speaking English in a working class family that had lived in Texas for several generations. Her father, Abraham Quintanilla Jr. forced her to learn Spanish so she could further her career. Selena was voluptuous, had a Latina’s features and exuded a sexual charisma on stage. Her famous glittering purple pantsuit hugging her hips was a signature of Selena’s skill as a performer. She gained popularity through musical performances of a Tejano music that was often ignored by the mainstream and even by Latino communities. At the age of twenty-three, she was worth over five million dollars.

What does it mean to remember her? When she was murdered, Selena became the ‘Tex-Mex Madonna’ and the focus of collective suffering on both sides of the border. She also became the unquestioned queen of mestizo pop music. Many Americans invested emotionally, politically and financially in Selena’s posthumous life as they had previously in the lives of Evita and Frida Kahlo. The films made about them attracted the attention of people all over the world.

Through remembering them, a Latin explosion or boom promoted the mourning of collective memories; it also capitalized on the cultural, economic, and political concept of latinidad _in the United States. Selena launched not only _latinidad, but also initiated the Latin music boom that emerged in the 1990s and created Latino mega-stars.

Deborah Paredez’ study on Selena’s posthumous importance is well written, engaging, and timely. She reveals the cultural, political, and economic dynamics of some commemorations of Selena. She further explores the reactions of Latinos and mainstream Americans after Selena’s death. Selenidad enables—if only for a moment—a sense of belonging to communities of the living. A great and easy read coupled with a selection of interesting photographs.

Written by: Anna Hamling, November 14th 2009

Carousel

admin — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 17:05:00 +0000

By Robin Guthrie

Darla Records

It is hard to imagine Robin Guthrie’s music without the accompanying voice of his former better half, Elizabeth Fraser. Her vocal styling, a combination of mouth music and abstract lyrics, became a trademark of the Cocteau Twins and left a distinctive quality that remains even if she works with other musicians. Case in point was her 2003 collaboration with French avant garde artist Yann Tiersen from the album Les Retrouvailles.

However, it is a shame that many, including yours truly, often overlook Guthrie’s unique genius—not because he is a man overpowering Fraser, who admitted in an interview in 1996 that her over-dependence on Guthrie was her downfall, but simply because his talent overshadows his post-Cocteau efforts. The loquacious Guthrie is a producer (Lush, Wolfgang Press), a collaborator (movie projects), and a music all-arounder (engineering and programming).

After the cult band’s demise in the mid-’90s, the former members are still active in the music scene and their followers still celebrate their music. Every year, fans initiate an event known as the Cocteaufest where they feast on the compositions of Guthrie, Fraser, and Simon Raymonde with the indirect support from the former band members.

Imagine the moment I held Carousel for the first time. Mixed feelings surged in. I was part hesitant, part curious, and part excited. Being a long-time Cocteau Twins fan, would it live up to my expectations? Does Carousel have something new to offer? After listening a few times to Guthrie’s latest instrumental work, I had this strange feeling that Fraser’s vocal parts would suddenly appear only to be disappointed that this is no Cocteau Twins album.

After all these years, Guthrie is still making such atmospheric sounds known as dream pop. Carousel feels so utterly familiar that a tear or two will start coming down on your cheek. Once again, you can hear Guthrie’s guitar shimmer the way it did back then. Once again, here come the rich melodious basses that ruled Cocteau’s past albums—from Treasure to Victorialand to Heaven Or Las Vegas.

The opening track “Some Sort of Paradise” promises a good start. It is so ethereal and pure putting your mind at ease at once. The third song, and my favourite, “Delight,” is a pure delight itself. It recounts of danger and excitement. Perhaps, it is also a testament to adventurous sex. “Mission Dolores” is a poignant song that delivers sadness and urgency. The closest you can get to Guthrie’s well-loved Cocteau are through the songs “The Girl with the Little Wings” and “Waiting by the Carousel.” Images start to emerge from one scene to another—jellyfish, heavenly bodies, oceans, lost young women, innocent children, and faceless naked men. These are the things you associate upon listening to Guthrie’s music.

Don’t get me wrong. Though Carousel oozes with loveliness, it requires your full attention. Mind you, it isn’t intended to be played in the background. In order to appreciate the album you have to slow down, or, better yet, stop what you are doing. But once you decide to sit back, relax, and press the play button of your player to hear the ten operatic ditties, Guthrie’s magic dust that is Carousel never ceases to amaze.

Written by: Elen P. Farkas, November 13th 2009

Crepusculo

admin — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 17:03:00 +0000

By Petracovich

Redbutton Records

It’s a treasure to stumble upon new music that for one reason or another resonates deeply within you. I selected Crepusculo after learning that Petracovich singer Jessica Peters Malmberg had made the album while pregnant, and then tragically lost her son shortly after he was born. Grieving a recent miscarriage myself, Crepusculo did for me what only those rare special albums can: it comforted me, let me cry, helped me heal, and taught me to create a place in my heart for what I had lost.

Crepusculo (Spanish for “twilight”) utilizes the standard drums, guitar, and bass setup and is richly textured with a multitude of other instruments, including piano, cello, trumpet, harmonium, and banjo. Described as folk pop, this latest album from Petracovich accomplishes an earthiness that brings each song to life. The songs are powerful, thanks to masterful lyrics and Malmberg’s stunning voice that is at times soaring and smooth and later hushed and reverent.

“Heaven Help the Day” is the opening track__, and it begins with an upbeat piano that propels the song to a quick crescendo. It’s a perfect match for the empowering lyrics about an absent father. Malmberg warns the father to beware coming back to the family, and if he does, she sings “I’d make you love me then I’d leave you all alone.” A compelling and driving banjo opens “Sleep It Off/Lie Down,” in which Malmberg sings out a challenge to “try to make me unsad/just try making me glad.” It’s a song that wonderfully depicts embracing sadness and revels in the beauty of fully experiencing human emotion.

While Crepusculo undeniably deals with painful losses, the beauty of the album is that there’s a sense of lightness and fun throughout the record. For example, in “San Rafael,” Malmberg dreamily imagines floating above traffic and “over dew and honey grass and sleeping deer; over rollers, hills with backs like dinosaurs.” A sense of whimsy threads itself through many of the songs.

What the music in this album accomplishes is a spirit of graciousness. It’s a snapshot of what it means to be alive, and that is a welcome solace. Crepusculo is an album for everyone that offers an unforgettable joy listening to each song as it magically unfolds.

Written by: Beverly Jenkins-Crockett, November 8th 2009

From The Heart

admin — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 01:08:00 +0000

By Valerie Nicole

H.C.D. Studios

"Just 'cause I'm laid-back don't mean I'm easy," begins the album. "I am more than just a plaything."

I am reminded of the first time I ever waited on a boy to call me. I was sixteen-years-old. Like a dork, I waited all day anticipating his call. My family rolled their eyes at my eager naiveté, and I found myself walking around my parents' backyard with a big cordless phone bulging in my back pocket. Finally, I gave up and called him late that night. He had completely forgotten about me. He realized and quickly made up some lame excuse about a fire. I heard a girl giggling in the background.

I'm considering giving my niece this album when she's older. It's not only because the music sounds sweet and happy, accessible to someone very young; it's because the majority of the album's songs concern love and relationships from an innocent yet strong point of view. Hence, the album name From the Heart.

These sentiments about relationships would be good for anyone ingenuous to hear. The positivity of "Live Your Dreams," the loneliness of "My Turn," and beginner's politics of "Wake Up" would also be beneficial for those with green horns. Domestic violence is also brought up in the song "His Love," rightfully melancholy next to the more upbeat tracks.

Valerie Nicole’s work can best be described as country-influenced pop music. Her vocal sound and overall musical style easily hold hands with performers such as Sara Bareilles and Saving Jane. I have my suspicions that Valerie is a Southern belle—or at least she sings like one, slow and steady with a slight twang. The lyrics are simple and innocent, with a few edges of sadness. The musical arrangements are basic—guitar, keyboard, and drums for the majority of songs. In short, it's pure pop. This is Top 40 material in the making.

Nicole's music is the perfect soundtrack for TV shows, movies about high school, Claire's boutique, and other places bubble gummy pop is called for.

Written by: Jacquie Piasta, November 3rd 2009

Truth Be Told

admin — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 00:07:00 +0000

By Ronda Matson

Ronda Matson delivers a solid collection of songs on her second outing, Truth Be Told, and her traditional folk approach, heavy on strumming guitar and harmonica, will please purists. Her plaintive, husky voice sets her apart from other singers, and it’s refreshing to listen to a record that doesn’t rely primarily on love songs. Instead, Truth Be Told covers a gamut of topics.

“Blind” may be my favorite cut; a jaunty number with rollicking guitar, it is remarkable for its doubled vocals. “The World Turns ’Round” is a gentle tune with minimal instrumentation and a sparse guitar. Matson’s vocal delivery is sweeter on this song, as she asks, “Do you remember when I saw you first and you saw me?” “In the Day” is rather catchy as well.

“Lift Me Up” strikes a different tone than the rest of the album.This impassioned plea is sung in a minor key accompanied by almost atonal picking at times. “Lift me up, oh lift me up, waking or dreaming, lift me up,” she asks her unknown listener. The ambiguous lyrics make it unclear if her pleading is religious in nature, but the song sticks with you nonetheless. The music of “The Creeper” is perfectly suited to the story of unwanted attention from an unidentified man. The song appears on the album twice, first with Matson as the sole vocalist, and later as a duet with Bruce Marshall. I prefer the duet version, as Marshall’s understated vocals add an aura of, well, creepiness.

Ultimately, while I enjoyed several individual songs, I was not blown away by any of them, and the lack of variety was noticeable. Matson is a talented musician who needs to take a few more chances with her material.

Written by: Karen Duda, October 18th 2009