Otis Taylor, When Negroes Walked the Earth (Shoelace Records)
Otis Taylor. Otis Taylor? Otis Rush. Hound Dog Taylor. Otis Redding. Zachary Taylor. Seems like you've been hearing this name all your life, but you haven't. A new black bluesman, a la Alvin Youngblood Hart or Corey Harris, Otis is also a unque specimen. Flailing the acoustic like Son House, creating a permanent structure on electric like John Lee Hooker. Simple instrumental settings of power trio or occasional fiddle (sounding almost like a harp), with always a twist in the melody and in the lyric. Not a tribute band, not a convincing simulation: the living blues.

Blind Willie Johnson, The Complete Recordings (Columbia)
I missed Blind Willie - the incomparable gospel/blues street/recording artist who spent much of his career in LA and TX - my first few times through the blues. Maybe that's cause people twenty years ago had a firmer distinction between blues and gospel in their minds than we tend to now. There is certainly a tension. But for many of the artists themselves, the tension was an oscillation: sin and guilt, juke joint and church, sat night and sun morning, preacher and blues shouter. At any rate, though Blind Willie probably started out as a songster playing a variety of styles, he recorded only gospel (and only in the late twenties). Like, say, Son House or Robert Johnson, it's the man and his slide guitar, though there are some cuts with a lovely female harmony. Much of the material is trad American hymns, which Johnson pulled from books published in the late nineteenth century, but bluesed up and played with scary intensity (check "Soul of a Man": one of the great performances of the twentieth century). His singing style alternates - sometimes in the course of a single note - from Charley-Patton insane growl to a much more delicate and musical tone similar to Blind Lemon Jefferson's, though in a lower register. He's among the most intense and expressive singers of any era.

Rob Zombie, Greatest Hits: Past, Present, and Future (Geffen/UMe)
Truth in music criticism compels me to state that not all of these discs contain Rob Zombie solo work. As might be expected, at least half of each disc is taken up with White Zombie classics. That stated, this is quite a greatest hits (or, given its duality, greatest tits) package, tricked out with every extra conceivable: a DVD with White/Rob Zombie videos (three previously unreleased), two new tracks from Rob, and two tracks from the *House of 1,000 Corpses* soundtrack. If you're a stone Zombie gore fanatic, then you want this. And even if you're just a casual listener like yours truly, you'll want to take it for a spin or buy it for a friend. After all, Christmas shopping season has already started....
Andrew Williams

ky-mani marley, "many more roads" (artists only)
being bob marley's child has got to be a complex and difficult matter. ziggy, damian, stephen: there are a couple of others too, at least, all of them musicians of some sort. but if you sound just like daddy, you're merely exploiting the connection. and if you don't, what good are you, anyway? ky-mani at the moment is easily the most interesting artist, and this record (released in 2001) is flat-out great. he's got a kind of spooky or haunted or supernatural look, and a voice like god's: beautiful, complex, and compelling. ovbiously he can sound just like bob if he likes, but his voice is also deeper and more varied. in addition, he moves through what is basically a traditional roots reggae album with a combination of singing and dance-hall toasting, at both of which he is a remarkably gifted artist. there are some very strong songs here, ones that would have fit plausibly into his dad's recording career (such as "heart of a lion"). i think in a way ky-mani has been hurt by his family connection; if he wasn't bob's son, he'd be hailed as a pre-eminent master of jamaican-style music.

doc watson, "trouble in mind: the doc watson country blues collection 1964-1998" (sugar hill)
right. exactly. doc watson, besides being a national treasure, is a national resource, an encyclopedia of american music. this disc - located somewhere between jimmie rogers, mississippi john hurt, and merle haggard - crystallizes the style of blues watson has explored throughout his career. the musicianship here is consummate: great guitar picking by doc and son merle, and fine harmonica: indeed incredible considering it's played on a rack. and doc's deep, weathered singing is always the acme of tunefulness, simplicity, and taste. we get archival footage here of "john henry," "stagolee" etc: very dark songs in the american grain, delivered with the style of a great musician and the sensitivity of a professional historian.

jan smith tin heart (independent release)
There is a lot to be said for simplicity, sincerity, and craft. Indeed, that's enough. I find myself playing Jan Smith's clean, beautifully made country/bluegrass/folk over and over now, and when I don't have it on, I can suddenly find myself yearning for its purity and truth. There is a lot lot of music in this vein being made right now: Kathleen Edwards, to take one example. But Kathleen Edwards is a bit of a Lucinda wannabe, and there's something missing at the heart of the music. Not here. The lyrics and the voice they're presnted by are simple and true. The band plays with competence and feel (particularly the mandolin). It doesn't jump right out at you and say "this is a great record, because it is made with humility: an almost Shaker aesthetic. But nevertheless you can't help realizing that it is a great record anyway. Order from cdbaby

Turbulence, Different Thing" (minor7/flat 5, Caroline)
This is the best disk of new Jamaican music I've heard in some time. Turbulence combines roots reggae with a more digital approach swinging all the way toward dancehall and even (on one cut) contemporary r&b. But slinkier grooves than most, juicier bass lines, nastier vocals. Very listenable but nonetheless reasonably hard.

Drive-By Truckers , "Decoration Day (New West)
DBTs "Southern Rock Opera" was my #1 record of 2001. This in its own more conceptually modest way (instead of a suite explanation of the whole "southern thing" you get discrete but mutually coherent songs) is also a very great record: scumbled-up, rough-hewn and tremendously vital southern rock and straight country played by a real band. Every song tells a story and the words are beautiful and true and unusually specific and resonant.

Kim Wilson, "Lookin' For Trouble" (M.C. Records)
We've reached the point at which most of the old masters of the blues - and most of the people with links to the first couple of generations of blues performers - are white folks. Fifteen years ago in Nashville, I saw Kim Wilson - formerly the front man of Texas blues-rock legends the Fabulous Thunderbirds. He played harmonica, hard, for almost three hours, in itself a challenge to any respiratory system. But what blew me away is that in those hours I didn't detect a single false note. He played loose; he played improvisationally; but he played perfectly. On "Looking For Trouble" (M.C. Records), Kim's still playing fast, loose, hard, and perfect. His harp style is firmly traditional: very much in the style of Little Walter, the Muddy Waters sideman/solo artist of the fifties and sixties who is by acclamation the greatest blues harp player who ever lived. Wilson is not an innovator, but he channels great personal expressive power through the traditional forms. The Thunderbirds squeaked out a couple of hit songs during a momentary roots revival in the eighties with a kind of modified Stones-style rock. Wilson's singing - sure, deep, and direct - and his persona (Cadillacs, girls, shades) were perfectly-suited to that material. On a series of solo albums (uniformly excellent) that he's made since the T-Birds disintegrated, Wilson has moved back toward completely traditional electric blues, though in a variety of modes. And even if the persona has been turned down a notch, the voice is still big and good. Here, he performs spooky-slow third position structures as well as horn-based jumps and more T-Birdish party tunes. And, of course, he serves them all up with real juice and chops. In short, Wilson has achieved the iconic status that artists like Howlin' Wolf or Magic Sam occupied for a previous generation: a link to the tradition and an embodiment of the life that remains within it.

bahamadia, all available material underground hip hop might be even more male dominated than the pop variety. but bahamadia is both amazing by any standards and deeply innovative. she reminds me of an updated billie holiday or something: the quality of the voice is unique: simple, deep, but such a groove. the timbre is beautiful. the flow is extremely good and politically interesting. the cuts are mostly very mellow and jazz-oriented. though she has been featured on many records, there are only import singles and one ep available on amazon (i've been downloading). how can this be?

mountain brothers, triple crown (babygrande) Well, as I started listening to these guys, it never occured to me that they weren't black. but they're asian-american kids from philly, world center of underground hip hop. they are, in all areas, above average. good trip-hoppy beats. good line of talk, though maybe not great poetry. one problem with listening to underground hip hop is that the point is so concentrated on the words that you can't just put it on and read the paper. but this thing can be listened to casually, because it is melodic and pleasant, or you can can notice that every line makes sense.

atmosphere, all available material (e.g. god loves ugly (fatbeats)) i've been marinating in alt/underground hip hop: anti-pop consortium, mr. lif, binary star, zion i, aesop rock, cannibal ox, el-p etc etc. (i particularly commend zion i and binary star to your attention.) as compared to the gangsta and pop stuff, the beats and melodies are far mellower and more jazz-oriented, while the lyrics are "positive, " overall, or at least try to mean something. though i still love women and guns, i seem to be tiring of bitches and gats. anyway, atmosphere, featuring the great mc/poet slug of minneapolis is the best best best. the tunes are listenable. but the writing is some of the best taking polace in any literary genre anywhere. why waste your time with martin amis of something? slug is a better writer. a song/poem like "scapegoat" or "god loves ugly" is profoundly original, smart, deeply sincere, self-relective. First half of "Scapegoat": It's the caffeine, the nicotine, the milligrams of tar It's my habitat, it needs to be cleaned, it's my car It's the fast talk they use to abuse and feed my brain It's the cat box it needs to be changed, it's the pain It's women, it's the fight for power, it's government It's the way you're giving knowledge slow without controlling subtle hints It's rubbing it, itching it, it's applying cream It's the foreigners sight seeing with high beams, It's in my dreams It's the monsters that I conjure, It's the marijuana It's the emberassment, displacement, It's where I wander It's my genre, It's Madonna's videos It's game shows, it's cheap liquor, blunts, it's bumper stickers with rainbows It's angels, demons, gods, it's the white devils It's the monitor, the soundman, it's the motherfucking mic levels It's gas fumes, fast food, Tommy Hil, mommy's pill Columbia House music club, designer drugs and rhyming thugs It's bloods, crips, five, six, It's stick up kids, It's christian conservative terrorists, it's porno flicks It's the east coast, no it's the west coast It's public schools, it's asbestos It's mentholated, It's techno It's sleep, life, and death It's speed, coke, and meth It's hay fever, pain relievers, oral sex, and smoker's breath It stretches for as far as the eye can see It's reality, fuck it, it's everything but me

adrian sherwood, presents on-u sound, the master recordings, volumes 1 &2 (on-u) adrian sherwood is an english genius who started his own record label when he was 17, like around '79 or '80. since then, he's made the sweet-nastiest dub available with a stable of artists, including singers and players, prince far i, dub syndicate, etc etc. this is a pair of greatest-riddims collections that are cheap. they are the work of a single artist, however. the rhythm tracks are the hottest and hardest: like burning so slow, but so hot: all the tracks are built on a bed of coals, baby. unimaginably excellent.

jimmy ryan, "lost diamond angel" (ambitious) ok. perhaps slightly oddly, i am not a big fan of "americana," once known as "folk." maybe this is sheer jededness, since the mailman brings me like five americana albums every day. they all seem to look alike, and sound alike. it's not that the next female folk singer sucks, it's just that i can't tell one from another any more. but sometimes, if i actually get the thing on the player, there's something different. this album combines elements of blues, bluegrass, punk, and a bit of sheer weirdness. it's well-played, it's well-written, and it effortlessly deploys the history of american musics into something original.

the yardbirds, "birdland (favored nations) the idea of "the first yardbirds album since 1968" is just a mite absurd, especially since the lead singer, keith relf died decades ago. obviously, the birds, who at different times featured eric clapton, jeff beck, and jimmy page, were seminal blues rockers and proto-heavy-metal pseudo-gods. so i had this album - half new songs half old - with a couple of original members, a new singer, and rotating lineup including steve vai, slash, beck etc etc - pegged as a really sad attempt to cash in. tell you what though. not only is this a straight-up great rock album. it's true to the spirit of the original stuff but also contempo. i don't know, even the re-recording of, say "for your love," is very worthwhile: faithful but not rigid, and of course sounding a lot more transparent than the original. we certainly have reached the point where sixties blues rock is refreshing, and none moreso than this.

wackies sampler volume 1, (wackie's) this comes as something of a revelation. and it teaches us something about our access to jamaican music, and the music of anywhere, pretty much, that is not here. this sample from the reincarnated wackie's records gives us 18 cuts from artists who would be thought of in the us (outside of a small group of very serious reggae freaks) as second-tier: the love joys, stranger cole, leroy sibbles, wayne jarrett, etc etc. but there is nothing second-tier about this music, which is amazingly consistent in its combination of simplicity, seriousness, and beauty. there is not a weak cut here, and it's liable to send you (or me, for that matter) rummaging into obscure back catalogues, finding out about these great musicians. the lesson is that, when you get down to it, what makes it out of jamaica and into our consciousness is relatively arbitrary, because our attention is limited. so back in the seventies, when we were hearing really pretty bad records by peter tosh, or dennis brown, or gregory isaacs, we should have been exploring.

larry sparks, the coldest part of winter (rebel) one of the most disturbing moments i ever experienced at a concert was at a laurie anderson show in the early eighties. before launching into some arch electronic deconstruction of dolly parton's beautiful "tennessee mountain home," ms. anderson said something like this: "you know that bitch left tennessee as fast as she could go and never wanted to go back." now i suppose that ms. anderson and her dude, lou reed, have values that reflect their milieu up there in the nyc art world: fuck everybody, do all the drugs, exist with complete decadence and stupefying artificiality, sneer at the very idea or possibility of decency, regard yourself as a sophisticated artiste, make music of stupefying mediocrity and monotony. well, actually, everyone gets to be nostalgic for where they come from, especially if it's the east tennessee hills. where laurie and lou live, the trees have to be caged for their own protection. larry sparks is a veteran bluegrass guitar player with a classic tenor, and a quietly beautiful repetoire, and no pretensions other than a celebration of decency and home. this album is beautiful suite of songs about the old home place, about the longing for the rural and the true. maybe laurie's values have taken a turn toward the existent in recent years, but if not i am planning to kidnap her and lock her in a room for an indefinite duration with this cd playing.

nick curran and the nitelifes, "doctor velvet" (blind pig) yes. oh yes. ok. he looks like a dork on the cover, possibly because he's wearing sunglassses the lenses of which are shaped like texas and a red naugahyde jacket with leopard-skin trim, sitting in an old cadillac with two girls. is he serious, or just playing at being a member of the fab thunderbirds? doesn't really matter, does it, because if screaming jay hawkins was appearing tonight with the lowell fulsom band, they'd sound like this, but not as good. this is incredibly juicy jump blues: not like a stevie ray vaughn virtuoso outpouring of technical facility (though curran in fact has incredible chops), but like a perfect blues-heavy r&b that sounds texas by way of socal (though curran's from (?) maine), t-boneish i guess. i've been playing "don't be angry" over and over, but it's only one of several great songs studding an album that is all really really fucking good. this is certainly the best new blues album, to say nothing of the best new blues artist, i've heard in years.

dub syndicate, "murder tone" (on-u/caroline/wackie's) evidently a collection of recordings made over a decade or so, "murder tone" is absolutely definitive digital dub made by a collective that revolves around adrian sherwood and style scott. lee perry is listed as a producer (!) and credits include flabba holt, bingy bunny, and bim sherman. obviously, it can't get any better than that, and as a matter of fact it doesn't. this disc is by turns meditative and haunting, atmospheric and pointed, hypnotic and melodic; there is no circumstance, essentially, in which this is not the best album to put on. "your head is a bulbous punching-bag of sound," they proclaim, before launching into a profound rethinking of the theme from gilligan's island.

2002 top ten disks: (1) eminem: the eminem show (2) distillers: sing sing death house (3) tom armstrong: songs that make the jukebox play (4) eek-a-mouse: the very best of eek-a-mouse, volume 2 (5) hot rize: so long of a journey (6) peter wolf: sleepless (7) joey ramone: don't worry about me (8) jerry portnoy: down in the mood room (9) heather myles: sweet talk and good lies (10) gurf morlix: fishin in the muddy more: gary primich: dog house music alan jackson: drive talib kweli: quality voodoo glow skulls: steady as she goes john brown's body: spirits all around us hillbilly idol: hillbilly idol hangdogs: something left to sell lucky dube: soul taker

L7 and Betty Blowtorch: all available material Sometimes you just want the crunch, know what I'm saying? L7 is a girlpunk band, whereas Betty Blowtorch is more classic hairmetal. Either way, there don't seem to be any guy-bands who rock quite this effectively these days. (Nashville Pussy doesn't count cause they're half-female; roots rockers the Yayhoos, maybe.) There is at this point a history of swashbuckling, sexually ambiguous, female rock n roll shitkickers. Reference points for L7 and Betty obviously include the Runaways (and Joan Jett), Girlschool. All these chicks would probably scare me in real life, but Lord knows they sound good as shit. You know, there was a time when hard rock was sung by imitation women like Robert Plant. But Bianca Halstead, the singer of Betty Blowtorch (who, I'm told, recently died in a car accident) howls with more tuneful intensity than any of them. Check "Love Hate." L7? Songs like "Shitlist" and "Shove" are among the best handful of rock songs of the last couple of decades. L7 is what the Go-Go's should have been: nasty, bitchy, crunchy girl punks.

Peter Wolf, "Sleepless" (Artemis) When I saw Peter Wolf in the mid-seventies, he was wearing a tux with a dollar sign on the front. He was singing "First I Look at the Purse" and "Give it to Me." He was strutting around the stage as one of the great cock-rock singers of all times: comparable to Jagger or Tyler. He led the world's greatest party band: J. Geils. Now it is hard for a person like that to age gracefully. But Wolf unexpectedly has done that over the course of a great and undervalued solo career. "Sleepless" conitnues the melancholy soul of 1998's great "Fool's Parade," but adds a touch of country and folk that you wouldn't expect from a Manhattan/Boston boy whose hero is Don Covay. He's still capable of up-tempo blues rock (as shown here, e.g., by "Too Close Together," an old Sonny Boy tune featuring Geils harp player Magic Dick). But the real delights here are quieter and sweeter and sadder. And Wolf duets with Jagger on a breathtaking version of "Nothing But the Wheel." Look for this near the top of my top ten list at the end of the year.

8.3 yo i'm back from jamaica with some observations about reggae

7.8 the j. geils band: an appreciation

John Brown's Body, "Spirits All Around Us" (Shanachie) When it comes to race issues, white people don't have a whole lot of credibility. We can't really get what it means to be black, and we're usually content to reap the benefits of white skin privilege without even being aware of it. But if there's one white boy with street cred, it's got to be John Brown, who after all gave his life trying to free black folks. That's why "John Brown's Body" is a good name for this two-tone American roots reggae group. They've always been a good band, but this album is the shit. One problem with roots reggae is that Jamaican music itself has left it so far behind that it sounds like some kind of nostalgia trip. That's often the case with the African reggae that's so popular and vital, but so stuck with Bob Marley back in '79. Anyway, "Spirits All Around Us" manages to be both a serious nasty roots album and to sound contemporary, with hints of electronica everywhere but rhythms that are still organic. This might just be the best American reggae album ever made, and is certainly one of the best reggae abums from anywhere in some time.

augustus pablo, east of the river nile

Rollins Band, The Only Way To Know For Sure (Sanctuary) Henry always brings out the best and worst in himself. He constantly challenges his listeners to argue or agree, and this 2 CD live set is a good road test, presenting his latest band that, like his previous groups, seems to run faster and smoother the more it plays out. Like some engines, this one takes a little while to warm up, but three songs in and all cylinders are firing in synch. And all the songs from "Nice" come across as hot as the hood of a GTO in the desert sun. It's good to know some things really do improve with age. And Henry's desire to give fans every bit of their money's worth shows mutual respect. However, the decision to include every song, every off-note, every second of stage patter and sweat, works against the sleekness and strength of the best material. For those on a budget, I suggest you pick up "Nice" and then decide whether to spring for this set. Andrew Williams

Voodoo Glow Skulls, Steady As She Goes (Victory) Voodoo Glow Skulls are an interesting band. They record in Spanish as well as English, and they've explored strange intersections of latin, ska, and punk for a decade or more. This record is maybe their most furious: the ska is triple-speed, and merges into hardcore, but there's always a melody back there. The horns rock beautifully. In a way, the horns are more about texture than tune, and at this speed they're like a swarm of furious bees.

Andrew W.K., I Get Wet (Island) This is a fine kettle of fish. Really bizarre, actually. It's all heavy-metal attitude and bubblegum song structure. Andrew wallows in filth - the video for "She Is Beautiful" features greasy hair and dirty t-shirts, while the album cover displays a serious nosebleed. Plus he looks all evil and shit. But the music is actually keyboard-heavy and poppy as hell. A reference point here might be Van Halen, but even though I hate Van Halen, I don't hate Andrew W.K. There are certainly references here to seventies poprock ("Candida"?), but delivered with a certain snarl.

4.25 anal sex with the gogos

Elvis Costello, When I Was Cruel (Island) Well. Elvis Costello is the greatest songwriter of the rock era. (And actually there are precious few great writers, esp. lyricists, of that era: John Prine, Costello, Eminem. Dylan and Lennon, e.g., are ridicuously, absurdly overrated.) Now this album is billed as his return to rock 'n roll; my package came with a sticker that said it was his first "fast" albumn in a decade or something. That's all bullshit. I bet the tempo is no faster overall than "All This Useless Beauty." And as for the idea that this is his best album in x years: ridiculous too, because "All This Useless Beauty" was incomparably wonderful. On the other hand, so is "When I Was Cruel," and it is slightly less pop/jazz oriented, slightly more bluesy. Anyway, you've got to live with a Costello album for a few weeks before you understand the melodies and what he's doing with his voice. I'm just starting, but I can tell it's going to work out in a big way.

The Flatlanders, Now Again (New West) People like me like albums like this. An odd exception to this rule is that people exactly like me don't like albums exactly like this. I admire Joe Ely, Jimmie Dale Gilmore, and Butch Hancock: all-stars of Texas real country. But I find their recordings uninteresting, both as solo artists and as a group. The songs don't seem that great to me, and the performances kinda bore me. Sorry!

The Drive, Dirty Money/Suicide Note/Sever (www.thedrive.info) This is kind of grinding, half-speed, but melodic punk music, extremely dark and extremely compelling. It's just a 3-song ep or cd single I guess, but it's coherent, smart, and in its own slightly surprising way melodic. The singer sounds a little like Courtney Love (in my opinion you could do much worse), but this young NYC girlpunk band is not really derivative of anyone; they're making their own style. I'm looking forward immesnely to a full-length cd at this level of intelligence.

Modern Icons, A Truly Big Show (modernicons.net) This is as eclectic, convincing, eccentric and absorbing as any music you are ever likely to hear. Modern Icons is a three piece band from Lancaster, PA that suggests Marianne Faithfull, the Beatles, Siouxie and the Banshees. Elvis Costello. Celtic, country, New Wave: anything and everything. The instrumentation is odd: no drums for the most part: only fiddle, guitar, upright bass. It works to perfection. There's something actually demonic about the way Robin Chambers hits the violin. Why haven't you heard or heard of these amazing people? Got me, but get after it.

Heather Myles, "Sweet Talk and Good Lies" (Rounder) Those of you who have been paying attention (don't make me kick your ass) know that I am a bit obsessed with Tammy Wynette. I think she sang with more pathos and reality than any singer I ever heard, even Billie Holiday. And I think she was a brilliant interpreter: among other things a true master of dynamics and phrasing. People hear her now as campy or kitschy I guess. I never will. But Tammy did not live well with fame. She tried to get sophisto, and perhaps we may be forgiven for speculating that she developed various substance abuse problems. Anyway, Heather Myles doesn't have to worry about the Queen of Country syndrome, much as she deserves the title. She's the best girl singer in the world. But as she laments here in "Nashville's Gone Hollywood," it's too late to be great. There are a number of absolutely perfect country songs here in the Tammy/Loretta tradition, notably "Homewrecker Blues" and "One Woman Man Again." The plot of the latter is too country: he leaves her; she spirals downward and becomes a streetwalker; he buys her and they both pretend she's his one man woman again. Oh my fucking God. "Highways and Honkytonks," her last album, was a classic. This is just as amazing. To keep her going, we've got to make sure she never gets too famous. On the other hand, we've also got to buy her albums. Do. history of what we're hearing