'Sometimes I’m more open with my music than I am in my personal life,' says the singer/songwriter, underscoring the candor that informs her debut LP, 'Fickle Island.'
Meiko discusses her new album, its minimalist, mood-driven electronica and the most personal lyrics of her career to date.
The Moody Blues legend scales it down for a rare solo tour, mixing burgeoning inspirations with old magic.
This performance captures Queen’s emergence into immortality as a band with muscle and snarl to spare.
The band's lead vocalist and songwriter of some of its greatest hits discusses the music that has made Alabama legends.
July 29, 2009
July 11, 2009
With music that’s as heartening as a lullaby, yet informed by perceptions both redolent and inherently mature, singer/songwriter Haroula Rose introduces herself as a remarkable talent—and a remarkably promising one at that—on her debut release, a five-track EP entitled Someday.
Nurturing an organic, windswept sound borne of folk and alt.country influences, Rose—whose soft, unaffected voice recalls Alison Krauss and perhaps Mindy Smith—is generously supported by delicate melodies and arrangements.
She draws on themes of doubt and self-assurance—both the presence and the lack thereof—endearing herself as empathetic and emotionally receptive. In “The Leaving Song,” for instance, she sings with a wistful premonition of how her insecurities will cause the loss of a love, likely her first of real significance. “Oh babe it’s all so new to me,” she laments amidst a gentle rustle of strings and piano.
In turn, “Love Will Follow” finds her conciliatory and strong, assuring her special someone that in spite of his apparent disillusionment—“You get further away/ Every day/ What do you look for?”—she will always be with him. A stark and steady guitar progression underscores this promise and, while its sentiment may be simple, the compassion with which Rose imparts it makes for a gripping song.
Rose turns especially pensive, though, on “If I Could Pray,” during which she questions the essence of her faith and how—if such were more secure—it would sustain her in moments of great uncertainty. Ironically, she does so against a playful rhythm of hand claps and assorted strings, making what could’ve been a brooding meditation into something more hopeful and resilient.
Of course, it would be presumptuous to conclude—even though she’s written everything on this EP in the first person (and despite references here of her as a subject)—that Haroula Rose is relating firsthand experiences or exact personal feelings. What believing in such an assumption does speak to, however, is her authenticity as a songwriter as well as an interpreter of her own works.
In just over twenty minutes, Rose makes a notable impression with Someday, delivering one of the finer debuts of the year thus far.
July 1, 2009
In a career as uncompromising as any in popular music, Neil Young has seldom sought the creative path of least resistance, instead yielding to the mystifying influence of his own muse. With unwavering conviction—believing that the best, most inspired works flow through, rather than from, one’s consciousness—Young is a rare figure in rock, one who is inextricably attuned to his art while, at times, shamelessly expressive of his most visceral and vulnerable emotions.
Long running on his own wavelength—and not just in the realm of music, incidentally—Young has produced a canon so prolific and singular that chronicling it has posed a host of problems, not least of them being its eventual scope and format. After years of false starts and thwarted expectations, though, the first installment of what promises to be a monumental undertaking has ultimately come to fruition.
Archives, Vol. 1 (1963-1972), comprises ten discs total. Nine of these feature music culled from Young's stints in Sixties bands from the Squires to the Buffalo Springfield, and continuing through sessions with Crazy Horse and on solo LPs like Harvest and After the Gold Rush (including assorted extras like a career timeline and memorabilia). The last disc features Young’s surreal 1973 film, Journey Through the Past. As a whole, the complete collection yields a genuinely compelling perspective of the rock legend.
Perhaps the most important factor to consider, at least in terms of its contents, is that this collection does not boast dozens of previously unreleased songs. There are no lost classics that have been unearthed for this project. Rather, it contains previously unreleased versions of songs (many of which are classics) culled from their respective era.
That said, among the music discs are formerly unreleased mixes (either mono, stereo, or promotional edits), live performances, or various pressings. Point blank, this is not a substitute, what-could-have-been view of Young’s career (a la Springsteen’s Tracks box), but rather an everything-goes exhibition of one particular creative period.
Given that most of the material is well-known—at least to Young’s fans, which are who this set is geared toward—what’s worth noting is not so much which songs work and which do not (as most fans have surely inferred as much by now), but instead what distinguishes the music of this era from later ones of his career.
For the most part—with the radio edit of “Ohio” being the strongest exception—the version of Young heard here is not the angry or irascible one who more frequently populated later albums like Tonight’s The Night, Freedom, and Ragged Glory. The artist heard here lay more in the singer/songwriter vein, brimming with feral self-awareness and rich perceptions. Even on familiar material, hearing alternate versions of songs like “I’ve Loved Her For So Long” (previously unreleased, live), “Don’t Let It Bring You Down” (first pressing), or an accelerated take on “Sugar Mountain” (previously unreleased demo), Young’s genius is palpable and promising.
Considering that Young’s career has never been much of a linear one—his sidetrack projects have often been more interesting than his original plans—the timeline feature on each DVD reflects those excursions and his overall efforts especially well. Plus, certain stops along the way yield further music performances (including a live montage taken from the Buffalo Springfield’s final performance) as well as photos, images of news clippings and other relative souvenirs.
Also not linear in any chronological (or even much of a logical) sense, Journey Through The Past finds Young around the time of the making and promotion of his 1972 album, Harvest. If not for a few select performances of its songs (including “Alabama” and “Are You Ready For The Country?”) and an in-studio interview with DJ Scott Shannon, you’d be forgiven for thinking this was simply a slapdash home video that Young once spliced together in his garage. The film does underscore Young’s eccentricities and humor quite well—and hardcore fans will undoubtedly enjoy his oddball antics—but it doesn’t do much to underscore the quality of his music.
Regardless, overall Archives, Vol. 1 overwhelmingly succeeds in exhibiting the breadth as well as the context of roughly the first quarter of Neil Young’s extensive career. While not for the casual fan, it yields a mind-bending and magnificent portrait of the artist as a young man.