Hilbert_Cheesecake is obsessed with the following albums....

...as of Monday, the eleventh of June, two thousand and seven!

(A non-negotiable list of eight unrelated albums perfect to cure your music slump! Available at your friendly local independent music dealer.)




Brian Eno/John Cale - "Wrong Way Up" (1990) This is the first of a few albums on this last that I've already reviewed in depth on the site; I'd still like to discuss it here as well. Eno and Cale come together for the most flamboyantly mainstream record of either of their careers, but with such a rich quality. The drum machines are distinctly late 80s - early 90s, but the music goes so far beyond those textures. Listening to the harmonies and strings on "Spinning Away", you'll swear it's coming from a higher power. The entire album is smothered with a quality that only improves with age; I've owned it for six months and have only become more and more addicted. Don't neglect this forgotten masterpice.

LCD Soundsystem - "Sound of Silver" (2007) I'll go ahead and say it - 2007 is half over, and this is the record of the year so far. Straight out of left field. More than any other artist in the ball-sweat soaked indie world today, James Murphy seems so happy and conscious of the way the music sounds. He's clever as a pin, but never overly pretentious or *growl* ironic. He's creative, but never at the expense of groove. He just gets it, ya know? Why do my balls itch so much?

Menomena - "Friend and Foe" (2007) ..which would make this my second favorite of the year, also sure to pop up on my year end list. A new "experimental" group from Oregon, yet the only thing "experimental" about their biz is the computer software (Digital Looping Recorder, Deeler for short) they invented to rule the songwriting process. Drummer says:

"First, we set the tempo of the click, which is played through a pair of headphones. We then take turns passing a single mic around the room. One of us will hold the mic in front of an instrument, while another one of us will lay down a short improvised riff over the click track. We usually start with the drums. Once the drums begin looping, we throw on some bass, piano, guitar, bells, sax, or whatever other sort of noisemaker happens to be in the room. Deeler keeps the process democratic, which is the only way we can operate."

The result is colorful, to say the least. Multiple vocalists, saxophones, just pulsing with musical ideas that come and go, making me grin like a goon. At times, the raw drum sound evokes "Clouds Taste Metallic"-era Flaming Lips, with a ton of atmospheric keyboards thrown in for good measure. A heavy dose of melody, too. My favorite track is "My, My", in which the clown-voiced singer wonders, "What if all my enemies were dead? And I could forget everything they said?" over a gorgeous organ drone. Music for the sake of music, and it's wonderful. Don't pass up this underappreciated pop meal in favor of Of Montreal newest plastic-poppin` garbage or MIKA's neauseating neutured offering.

Thelonious Monk - "Brilliant Corners" (1956) You know, "Kind of Blue" still gets the position as the quintessential fities dinner jazz choice. I suppose I shouldn't argue - it is pleasant, it is generally appealing, lovely, clean and diverse overall.

And yet, I can't help but feel that "Brilliant Corners" has so much more goddamn character. A vague fifties swing feel, poly-rhythms galore. Difficult and melodic. Masterful and raw. You can have your Kenny G and eat him, too, but "Brilliant Corners" is filled with the type of jagged musical ...er, corners straight outta Compton. Highly recommended to cure that music slump of your's. Call me in the morning.

The Pogues - "Rum, Sodomy & Lash" (1985) There's something about "Rum, Sodomy & Lash" that didn't make sense to me at first. I'll confess - it's my first Pogues record, my knowledge is limited. Perhaps the accents pissed me off. Perhaps the Irish storytelling held no meaning for me. Perhaps I'm just fucking sick of the Dropkick Murphies to the point that I had no interest of figuring out who they ripped off.

I was wrong.

The punk-meets-Irish folk of "The Sickbed of Cuchulainn" is a fine (if not quite subtle) way to become initiated, though it's the slower tracks that seem the most wonderful for me. "The Old Main Drag" is a waltz, melodic and vivid with a story of one's first experience with England. With the he-males and shemales. You know. "A Pair of Brown Eyes" and "Dirty Old Town" are both similarly effective. The album closes with a drawn out rendition of "The Band Played Waltzing Matilda", which Tom Waits previously covered on the "Small Change" album; he returned the favor by placing "Rum, Sodomy and Lash" among his favorite albums and writing the liner notes.

Sinatra/Jobim - "Francis Albert Sinatra and Antonio Carlos Jobim" (1967) My interest in 99.999% of old Frank's music is non-existent at best (thought it works as a soundtrack to every Baby Boomer's conception), and yet this collaboration is just sublime. Indeed, it's perfect for falling asleep, and, mind you, that's no insult. Somehow, Jobim's gorgeous world-music backdrop and Tropican....I mean, Bossanova influences provide a perfect canvas for Frank's tales of loneliness and...more loneliness.

"What can you say when a love affair is over?"

You can say, "Start the album over again." The jazzy textures are endlessly entertaining. The whole affair (no pun intended) is disturbingly quiet and restraine. However, the best tracks are when a wee bit of swing and a pinch of pop shine through - "The Girl from Ipanema" being the obvious highlight (see: great songs blog), "Baubles, Bangles and Beads" is the "Sloop John B" of the album, and it's irresistable. Or "Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars" and "I Concentrate On You", both melodically enhanced by Jobim's silly, silly background touches. "Change Partners" is another instant classic.

Souled American - "Around the Horn" (1990) Ah, Souled American. That forgotten treasure in the dark, dark annals of alt-country history. They're from Chicago and that's all we know. The tunes are lethargic, claustrophobic and rich. I'd like to do a full-length feature on this site on Souled American when I collect some more of their hard-to-find records, so for now, I'll just discuss "Around the Horn".

The guitar is warbly and strange. Vocals are high and haunting. Bass is slippery and awkward. "I Keep Holding Back the Tears" was written by a band member's mother. The end.

P.S.
The first line of the album is "Watches know their time is right, beaches know they're more than sure/shore." It's a special song, with a brilliant octave-jumping melody, followed by "Second of All", which employs rather similar ideas, to a slower, moodier effect. How about "Old, Old House", which is utterly miserable in its pace and mood.

"Rise Above It" is even more plodding and exhausted. "My sweethearts gone left me...and my little sister, too." When that singer's voice cracks, it's such a perfect soundtrack for that 3:am bottom of the barrel siesta. The song drags on with the moaning and awkward guitar picking. Some perserverance song this is! I love it.

Three strangely upbeat instrumentals, but still a tad bit awkward and twisted. A touching reinvention of Little Feat's "Six Feet of Snow", with a great vocal performance from some other dude who I don't think sings on the other songs. Fuck it, I can't capture this album, but it's a subtly addictive moan. For fans of Neil Young's so-called "Ditch Trilogy". For fans of desparate, primal alt-country. For fans of music.

Tindersticks - "Tindersticks [II]" (1995) Eh, I've already attempted and failed to explain why I love it so much. The weight of the world lingers (no, trembles) on Stuart Staples voice, yet a sliver of light shines through the string arrangements. It is a dark and rewarding journey indeed. It's a dark, samey, dreary experience but, once again, I can't get enough. "My Sister", specifally, is a wonderful piece of art. Stick these tindersticks in your pipe and smoke it! For fans of British baritones and 3/4 time signatures.

"I swear she could read your mind, your life, the depths of your soul at one glance. Maybe she was stripping herself away, saying :

Here I am, this is me.

I am yours and everything about me, everything you see...

If only you look hard enough.

I never could."



I had a muffin for breakfast.

Album Appreciation: "Brilliant Corners" by Thelonious Monk

I spent five minutes (that's five minutes, for you people on the west coast) of my precious time yesterday writing an email to William-Sonoma. To be precise, I was inquiring as to why they put the milk chocolate-covered graham crackers on the top when it's painfully obvious that dark chocolate is nine times superior. One hasn't experienced true human discomfort until they're forced to root through the box and remove all milk chocolates, selfishly scavenging for the dark chocolate ones on the bottom.

And those pricks at William Sonoma? They write:

Thank you for your email. We are dedicated to responding to our customers in a timely manner. We handle email messages in the order in which they are received, and we reply to most messages within 24 hours.

Customer Service
Williams-Sonoma Home

A form letter, that's what you are! And meanwhile, it's been twenty-four hours and I don't see a response! Now, a man with tooth of gypsy in his head may very well presume that the reason for their lack of response is that they're too busy listening to Thelonious Monk's 1956 jazz classic, "Brilliant Corners". Like other jazz masterpieces of the era, it is at once challenging, dense and accessible enough for a dinner party. Like other jazz masterpieces of the era, it requires an all-star team to nail the hit on the head and tiger the touchdown to first base - namely, Sonny Rollin's fluid saxophone stylings (this is Monk's first album to feature horns) and Max Roach's percussive grace, along with Oscar Pettiford and Ernie Henry are chosen to tackle Monk's difficult material.


It is said that he would rarely speak to anyone other than his beloved wife Nellie, and certainly in later years it was reported that he would go through an entire tour without speaking to the other members of his group. Bassist Al McKibbon, who had known Monk for twenty years and played on his final tour in 1971, later said "On that tour Monk said about two words. I mean literally maybe two words. He didn't say 'Good morning', 'Goodnight', 'What time?' Nothing. Why, I don't know. He sent word back after the tour was over that the reason he couldn't communicate or play was that Art Blakey and I were so ugly." [1] - Wikipedia

We at Riverside feel very strongly that the whole emphasis on the exceedingly far-out and "mysterious" nature of Monk's music was seriously overdone during the early years of his careeer, so that many who would have been interested in listening (and very probably would have found themselves quite able to listen) were frightened away in advance. - producer Orrin Keepnews

These men worked hard. They struggled and concentrated and shook their heads over some passages with those half-smiles that mean: "Hard? This is impossible! For the original compositions on this date represent Monk at his most inventive and therefore (to repeat myself) at his most challenging...("I've never been satisfied with one of my records yet," he says, and means it). - producer Orrin Keepnews

The delicious title track required at least twelve takes to master the twisted timing and unusual melody. But Rolling nails it. Totally nails it. It speeds up and slows down, yet the group remains a single entity. As Mssr. Keepnews (awesome name) mentions, this song (and album) embodies the seeming contradiction of music at once impossible but never inaccessible. Monk's soloing throughout the album is fluid and melodic, convoluted and dissonant and deeply rooted in that ever-flowing nature of jazz.

Then there's "Ba-lue Bolivar Ba-lues-are", supposedly Monk's phonetic spelling of "Blue Bolivar Blues". I feel instantly transported to a sleazy 1956 nightclub as I engross myself in this thirteen-minute groove, which fits its title and features some of Rollins' finest soloing (though the liner notes dutifully remind the dear listener not to "neglect to dig the several things Monk is doing behind the horns).

"Pannonica" treads near ballad territory, yet with another captivating melody perhaps even iressistable enough for those rock fans intimidated by the pretensions surrounding this jazz territory. The song begins with a celeste that Monk reportedly just happened upon in the studio, while the 2:25 horn solo ups the mood even more. It is a fine song, my dear sandbag.

"I Surrender, Dear" is the obligatory solo piano piece boasting the bizarre title, always vaguely implying the melody without stating it right out for the silly listener. If if it's not quite up to the quality of tracks one-three, it's because:
a) We've been spoiled and
b) it lacks the rich experience of these musicians playing off each like a group of mud-wrestling nun.

Thankfully, "Bemsha Swing" brings back the...swing, for lack of a better word. In it's third recording, this song strives off of forceful horn blasts and catchy chord changes. These fine music-makers once again take turns with the tasteful solos, bringing some good-time jazz ecstasy fort the whole family.

P.S.
He wasn't lying - Art Blakey really was a strange-lookng mothafucka: