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Max
Eider
Hotel
Figueroa (Vinyl Japan)
 Max
Eider spent the heart of the ’80s as a member of the Jazz
Butcher Conspiracy, lending his classy guitar stylings to,
and writing and singing, some of the standout tracks on nearly
two dozen albums, EPs, singles and compilations. After five
years of nonstop road and studio work, though, Eider and key
co-conspirators Pat Fish and Owen Jones decided that they’d
rather kill each other than work together further, and the
original JBC self-immolated on the pyre of alcohol-fueled
rock & roll dysfunction. While Fish continued on under
the Jazz Butcher moniker well into the ’90s, Eider issued
a solo album in 1987, then popped up on a couple of records
by onetime Jazz Butcher bassist David J (also of Love and
Rockets and Bauhaus).
Otherwise, though, the early ’90s were a period of radio silence
from the man Jazz Butcher aficionados (and Fish himself) often
referred to longingly as “the talented one.” Fortunately,
time heals some wounds, and Fish, Eider and Jones regrouped
just before the dawn of the new millennium to issue the live
Glorious and Idiotic (2000) and the studio Rotten
Soul (2001), both on Vinyl Japan—who also asked Eider
if he’d like to follow up his solo masterpiece, The Best
Kisser in the World (which sells for a mint online these
days), with another record of his own, seeing as his new songs
on Rotten Soul had been so well-received.
Hotel
Figueroa picks up right where the brilliant Best Kisser
left off, with 10 killer jazz-pop cuts featuring Eider’s
distinctive Gretsch Double Anniversary (a guitar that simply
bleeds emotion) and his reedy and equally emotional
vocals. And lyrics: Eider’s one of the world’s most dyspeptic,
yet insightful, chroniclers of the human experience, vis-à-vis
men and women and love and hate and life and death and booze
and lust and (did I mention?) love. Need a sample? How ’bout
this one, from “Her Life:” “I could have been pretty if I
hadn’t got so drawn/I could have made someone happy if I wasn’t
quite, not quite so forlorn/Or maybe if I’d not been born.”
Kinda puts those “My woman done shot my dog down at the crossroads”
blues numbers to shame, doesn’t it?
Hotel
Figueroa offers a refreshingly entertaining slice of pure
songcraft, lovingly recorded and respectfully performed by
Eider, Jones and bassist/producer Steve Valentine, with guest
spots by (among others) Fish and David J. And that love and
respect goes a long way and means a whole lot: While the languorous
Hotel Figueroa may appeal to the post-Combustible Edison
tiki-lounge-ennui set, it’s wholly lacking in the sorts of
aren’t-we-clever self-referential shtick that defines most
martini circles these days. And it’s a better record for it,
a true work of art, a worthy distillation of a talented and
underappreciated man’s very best work.
—J.
Eric Smith
Teenage
Fanclub
Howdy!
(Thirsty Ear)
In 1991, Spin magazine voted Teenage Fanclub’s definitive
opus, Bandwagonesque, album of the year. This tidbit
wouldn’t be worth a mention in this space, except to note
that the CD that it edged out, Nirvana’s Nevermind,
has since assumed the proportions of a cultural touchstone.
So suffice it to say that the sun-bleached harmonies, ringing
anthems and crunching open chords of Scotland’s Fannies once
teetered on the brink of U.S. popularity. But something darker
was brewing on the horizon.
Far from the ragings on Mount Olympus, however, the Fanclub
toiled away in a world where melodic kings such as Big Star,
the Byrds and Brian Wilson still mattered, turning out one
ear-pleasing album after another throughout the ’90s. And
just as their vision survived the post-Nirvana fallout, so
too did the U.K. group’s goose-bumpy melodies endure the sneering
hooliganism and vapid art-pop of the Oasis-and-Blur-led Brit-pop.
Which brings us to the new millennium and Howdy!
This album, which has been out for well over a year abroad,
finds the Fannies releasing the string on their helium-infused
pop, allowing it to soar into even airier regions. The guitars
are alarmingly cut back in the mix, and everything surrenders
to sweet hook and harmony. “I Need Direction” sets the tone,
all yearning vocal harmonies replete with background “Ba-Ba-Ba-Bas.”
This is not an album for the cynical—and maybe the Fanclub
have their collective tongue somewhere near their cheek—but,
quite simply, it sounds real good. Howdy! represents
salvation in the same way that the Beach Boys’ “Don’t Worry
Baby” can throw cracks of light through the most turgid cloud
cover. So if you’re still interested in hope-filled tunes
that can make you feel real good, this is Zoloft for the ear.
—Erik
Hage
Various
Artists
This
is Where I Belong: The Songs of Ray Davies and the Kinks
(Rykodisc)
Give the
People What We Want: Songs of the Kinks (Sub Pop)
These two albums of Kinks covers are honorable and worthy
projects: “’Til the End of the Day” appears on This Is
Where I Belong, and “Who Will Be the Next in Line” is
on Give the People What We Want, but other than that,
both sets eschew the early guitar-crunching hits. On both
discs, Ray Davies’ subtler English-infused portraiture is
shown to be quite universal indeed.
Where
I Belong is a model of smart direction and production.
For example, Cracker didn’t reinvent “Victoria”; their cut
is just an excellent matching of a song and a band. Outside
of Lambchop’s version of “Art Lover,” there are no radical
recastings here, and even that group arrived at their arrangement
by natural means rather than imposing something that didn’t
belong. Two numbers, Bebel Gilberto’s “No Return” and Tim
O’Brien’s “Muswell Hillbilly,” actually delve further than
the Kinks original versions into the character that Davies
was drawing from when he wrote them.
Give
the People is the more free-ranging of the two discs.
While just as respectful as the other disc, it features numerous
artists seeing how far they can push their tunes without tipping
them over. They pretty much succeed, lapsing into embarrassment
only when not having the vocal identity consistently nailed
down. There are some brilliant song choices, rendered with
honesty and verve, among them the Pinkos’ punkish take on
“Brainwashed” and the Model Rockets’ emotionally regal “Ring
the Bells.”
—David
Greenberger
Nitty
Gritty Dirt Band
Will
the Circle Be Unbroken (Capitol)
For many in the Woodstock generation, the Nitty Gritty Dirt
Band’s 1972 landmark album Will the Circle Be Unbroken
was their introduction to the music of Appalachia. And for
some of the older artists on the record, who had had their
signature hits in the 1930s and ’40s, the album marked the
first time they were recorded with modern studio technology.
That the project took place at all was a small miracle: Bill
Monroe refused to record with the long-haired Dirt Band, and
Roy Acuff was mistrustful of them until he heard some tracks
in the studio and realized that they really could play like
the old-timers. Earl Scruggs persuaded many of the others
to take part in the recording. To commemorate its 30th anniversary,
the album that could be called the original O Brother,
Where Art Thou? is back in a digitally remastered, two-CD,
42-track bonanza of plain singing and fancy picking. Highlights
of album—which features the Dirt Band joined by stellar guests
including Doc Watson, Vassar Clements, Jimmy Martin, Norman
Blake and others—include Mother Maybelle Carter’s plaintive
vocals on “Keep on the Sunny Side,” Doc Watson’s sparkling
flatpicking on “Black Mountain Rag,” and Merle Travis’ fingerpicking
showpiece “Cannonball Rag.”
—Glenn
Weiser
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