The Casket Letters - Monkey Swallows the Universe

Track list:

1. Statutory Rights
2. Bloodline
3. Science
4. Matterhoney
5. Gravestones
6. Little Polveir
7. Elizabeth & Mary
8. Ballad of the Breakneck Bride
9. Paper, Scissors, Stone
10. When the Work Is Done

Running time: 34 minutes
Released: 2007

When I listened to The Bright Carvings whilst in the US for work earlier in the year I said I hoped I would make it to this one this year. I have, just later than I might have expected. I have fond memories of this album... though I think it is probably more accurate to say that I really like Bloodline. If I am lucky there might be some interest in the tracks around it.

We open with a whimsical little number, a nice lyrical quality to the singing and a simple but pleasant tune to back it up. The vocal is the driver here, low in volume and sounding hopeful, the longer notes are lovely. Then we launch into the catchy opening of Bloodline, with a tappable tune that has stuck in my head for the past decade. I occasionally come back to this one now and again. It has a nice pace, a catchy hook, and a really nice vocal. With more mature ears it sounds very youthful and a little vapid but the catchiness is still there and it inveigled its way in to my consciousness long ago enough now that it is well established. I can hear that its a little light in places - further arrangement of the strings would have added something I think - but the crescendo to the chorus is a heartstring-tugger, and the singing is delightful. It ends rather abruptly, and there is nothing of similar interest to follow, alas.

Science ditches the tempo, but gains a little more life after it reaches the chorus. This takes indiepop and dials it up to tweelve. I do like the cello providing the bassline though, and the song grows into itself a little as it goes. I knew very well what I was getting into on this listen.

One of the things I find about indiepop is that it is incredibly mood dependent. If you're in a mood to not take things too seriously it will sound better. There are (generally) too many holes to really delve into and pick apart if you start looking for flaws. Thankfully I'm content enough to just rol with it tonight. This album runs a gamut of different tempos and tones, but most are slowish, and the best sounds are when our singer is soft and central. Nat Johnson's voice suits a light touch song - just a little stringy noodling - very well. Bloodline doesn't really make the most of her voice, but brings much more interest in catchiness to make up for this and elevate the track as a whole. Some of the other tracks though, the only interest at all is in that voice.

Oh, I'd forgotten just how charmingly disarming Little Polveir can be. The arrangement is twee out the wazoo, but at the same time it is so approachable and it supports Johnson's voice well. I'm less keen on the wordless section, but it it just a small part of a whole that should fall right down, but somehow stays afloat. I had completely forgotten the tone-change that follows - much darker sounds, electrified and a more OTT "look at me" vocal. The contrast with what has gone before is interesting, but I actually find that the threatening rumble in the guitars doesn't work that well here. I think that is because the pace is actually quite slow, and there isn't much intricacy to the growl.

To exemplify the tonal shifting around, the next number is a lyrically dark ditty with a twangy tune that stretches the tweeness and insouciance too far. The male/female duet approach doesn't work that well either, as the male voice just isn't a good one.

I am struggling to think this was only released in 2007; it feels older than that. You can tell they were pretty young, too. Listening now, in my mid 30s, feels oddly voyeuristic in some ways as a result. My laissez-faire attitude to the disc has suddenly evaporated. I'm not feeling the charm anymore. The record is over. I consider wielding the knife but stay my hand out of nostalgia.

Case / Lang / Veirs

Track list:

1. Atomic Number
2. Honey and Smoke
3. Song for Judee
4. Blue Fires
5. Delirium
6. Greens of June
7. Behind the Armory
8. Best Kept Secret
9. 1,000 Miles Away
10. Supermoon
11. I Want To Be Here
12. Down I-5
13. Why Do We Fight
14. Georgia Stars

Running time: 43 minutes
Released: 2016

This one almost passed me by earlier in the year, but once I caught wind I had to grab it. I was never a fan of k.d. lang, but Neko Case and Laura Veirs on the other hand both had multiple albums in my collection, even before I went out and bought up what I didn't have of Veirs' work after loving Carbon Glacier. My initial impressions weren't amazing, but simply pretty solid. Moments of wonder - particularly from Case's depth of vocal expression - but not a stunning album taken as a whole. I think I listened through it three or 4 times on the commute but always then my attention was elsewhere. There are a lot of tracks in not much time, so lets get to it.

Atomic Number is a breezy opening. Soft singing individually in the verses, lines shared between voices which then combine for the chorus. I like the chorus more; it feels more real somehow - I think because Case in particular sounds a little throttled in the verse and not at all in the harmony, where she dominates. The backing is fairly generically sweet, and actually a little characterless; it lives and dies on the singing. That is a criticism that I think applies beyond the single track.

I am fitting this in on a Sunday evening, before going back to work after a week off tomorrow. I am tired and virtually braindead after a weekend of roleplaying both days. Saturday was brutal because I'd woken up at 3am that day and not got back to sleep.  I mention this to appologise (to my future self reading this back, I guess) for the lack of detail of insight here. From that point of view the gentle and familiar music - in the sense of playing up to genre-typing, not my own familiarity with the specific tracks - is actually a blessing. It sort of rolls along easily, even when the text of the lyrical content is darker, as on Song for Judee, which Veirs leads nicely.

I said above that I was never a fan of k.d. lang; in truth I was never really aware of her music, even as I was aware of the name. I don't quite know how this built into a sneering attitude, but it did - the stupidity of youth would be my excuse.That is all the comment I can muster on Blue Fires, and even Delirium, with Neko Case off her full tilt, and bells backing up that deeply resonant lushness is half gone by the time I am done. Braindead, yes. I think this is the high point of the disc for me, based on the aforementioned car-based exposure, but I kinda hope it isn't as the song is less impactful each time I hear it. I was wooed by it first time because that voice is amazing, but since then I am hearing more of what it lacks compared Case's best work. I can't put a finger on those things in my current state - of course I can't, useless boy! - but whilst the singing is full-blooded, the arrangement falls flat.

This is all pleasant enough though hardly setting my world alight... until the first harmony on the chorus of Behind the Armory which is just lovely. The softly trilling guitar and string arrangement carries a so-so tune, thankfully augmented by some wind instruments as it goes, but the timbre and touch of the vocal here is gorgeous, even if the song ends abruptly. The transition to the next track is a really stark one too - as Best Kept Secret is a pacier number with prominent percussion. At 3 minutes 17 seconds long, this is one of the longer tracks on the album, and it feels it. In part this is a result of how bland I find the tune, but really I actually think it is more a comment on how exposure normalises things for us. The short tracks breed expectation of more of the same and the faster pace of this song means it crams more in, which means it feels like it should end sooner than it does and the 3.17 feels like about half as much more than it needed.

I cannot be fair to this disc in this state, closing my eyes when I am not typing (and even when I am) as my lids grow heavy. Nothing really stands out because the whole sound is registering less well, and because the general tone of the record is set as a sort of easy walking pace. It is an incredibly accessible album in that regard - there is nothing challenging here, it is comfortable in sound. I suspect that I am simply engaging on the surface level and that the nuance and craft is buried a level below which that my tired mind can unlock right now. The patterns are so familiar and gentle it is easy to pick them up and sway along with them. I can't get any deeper than "simple and supportive backing" and "gosh those voices combine nicely - though perhaps that, the latter in particular, is enough. The album is strongest, I feel, when two or more of our titular singers are in action together.

Just as I type that, Down I-5 starts, and here Case's voice carries in a nice floating sense over an arrangement that is dominated by drums, with the melody, such as it is, quiet beneath them both. It has an open, big sky quality to it that is just beautiful. There are moments where the voices combine and intertwine on this track too, but its that floating lonely opening that makes the song. Typical; how life likes to make us contradict ourselves like that. Anyway, the disc is almost done.

Georgia Stars has the sound of... something else I can't pin down. This is led by Veirs and perhaps it just sounds like a Veirs song but I don't think it is that simple. There is a particular quality to the notes and tone here. The twang and snap of the bass, lead guitar and percussion create a very distinctive sound and it annoys me that I cannot place what I think it sounds like. Oh well; that thought will have to go unaddressed as the music stops - the song is done and so is the album, and this post.

Cartography - Arve Henriksen

Track list:

1. Poverty and Its Opposite
2. Before and Afterlife
3. Migration
4. From Birth
5. Ouija
6. Recording Angel
7. Assembly
8. Loved One
9. The Unremarkable Child
10. Famine's Ghost
11. Thermal
12. Sorrow and Its Opposite

Running time: 51 minutes
Released: 2008

I can't escape the jazz wormhole yet. Thankfully this one is more contemporary, and Scandinavian. Woo! I don't actually know what to expect here, but Henriksen was a contributor to Atmosphères, which I adored the first half of, and the other Norwegians from that project play here too. I am more hopeful for this than the listen just gone, and that had a few nice moments so...

It is a very muted start, in line with my mood. I am being ineffectual in my desire to get much done this week whilst off work. My body and brain not feeling up to the menial chores that need doing, in need of rest and relaxation instead. The soft backing is tense, the muted trumpet squeezing out strangled sounds, not clear notes and not bright sounds. The track is interesting and slightly edgy as a result. There is enough going on in the background to build a crucible for the oddly throttled horn, so it doesn't just sound like someone failing to play. With a less well crafted context it could, I am sure. It is quite an uncomfortable opening track, and even when the trumpet opens up into some more expansive sounds in the latter part of the tune it keeps an edge to it. That discomfort is quite compelling though, and I miss it as it closes.

I am surprised when Before and Afterlife has a vocal. Spoken. Recorded such that it overlays itself imperfectly in places. The odd blast from the trumpet behind it, other sounds appearing here and there. The opener was uncomfortable, this is more so. The voice is very... I dunno, comforting in timbre but made spooky by the glitches and deliberate distortions of the recording. It feels ghostly in that regard - there, but not there fully. An echo. Deliberate I am sure, given the track title. When the voice fades there is taut backing and a lonesome tune left behind, sounding like the accompaniment to a horror scene, exploring a deserted place in a certain era (the trumpet will forever evoke the early-mid 20th century; Hollywood saw to that). As much as I find this compelling, I was glad when the track ticked over and Migration was more... familiar? No, that's the wrong word. Its a more typical contemporary jazz trumpet track from my limited experience. The trumpet is lonely and there are electronics amongst the percussion and other bits and pieces supporting the solo melody. Cold soundscape. Precisely what I would have expected before I picked this up I reckon, based on my entry into this particular genre. There is a nice softness to the rhythm, and suitably sparse melodic bits and pieces back there. Not too much to smother the singular horn.

It is that singularity that draws me to this instrument; I am, at heart, quite a lonesome soul. I think I relate to the isolated sounds and strains, the context of the other players being the sea of people we all wade through - sometimes literally, sometimes only figuratively - every day of our lives. Like the lonely trumpet, I feel like I stand outside that sea, separated from others even as they are there and even though without them there would be nothing. Ugh - torturing a metaphor is something I seem to be good at.

Anyhow, a couple more short tunes have flown by whilst I was waffling my self-pity and singular angst; enough of that. Suffice to say that I am feeling a degree of isolation coming through in the tones here, but I would be surprised if I didn't.

Recording Angel may have a very stretched vocal. It's hard to tell, but in places it sounds like snatches of words. This tune is fairly chilling, edgy and stretched. There is a plaintive nature to the horn here and a hopeless one at times, too. The backing reminds me a little of prog rock or ambient music with its long, over-held tones but the effect is very sparse and cold. Cartography is the making of maps; this feels like traversing an unmapped icy wasteland - fraught and unwise.For all that, I really like it. I was at a gig a couple of weeks back and having a conversation with the friend I went with about discomfort in music. Some of the songs played had post-apocalyptic themes, and she found these less appealing because the theme was uncomfortable. Me? I liked them because they were very evocative, painting bleak but vivid pictures. The relevance to this album? She went on to say that's one reason she doesn't like jazz - discomfort about where things were going or what would happen next. I suspect that was meant in relation to more stereotypical (even traditional) jazz with improv and solos aplenty, but I think it applies to this type of bleaker contemporary piece too.

Me, I conjure images to accompany it. Evocation again.

Oh my... shivers. The opening notes on Loved One are so strained it sends convulsions down my nervous system. The horn is so... all over the place here, it is really pushing the limits of discomfort. Screeching. There is a pulsing effect to it too, breath stopping and starting perhaps? It sounds like a dying plea, desperation and despair. Not what I would associate with the track title. This pushes even my ability to appreciate the bleak from start to the point it finishes in what feels like mid-stanza.

I cannot but see trumpet tunes as (mostly) sad soundtracks generally, and this album is doing nothing to dissuade that perception. It is fair to say it is a very dark album, born of sunless Norwegian days, perhaps, and certainly suiting this time of year where light is at a premium. Channeling the cold and ice from without to within through the medium of music, and without giving you literal chills. I cannot necessarily see myself ever listening to this again but man, I am very glad I have given it a proper listen. It is not an easy album, but it is fascinating. Thermal is again a spoken story, and with the title of the final track reminiscent of the opening one, it feels palindromic in nature.

That said, the final track is a mournful melody, but with richer sound - both from the horn and through the addition of some strings and choral elements, so in fact it ends nothing like it begins. All in all... fascinating. So much so that I want to go read what others thought of its mix of discomfort, cold, loneliness and whatever it is that actually made it work. I still can't put my finger on that.

Carnegie Hall Concert - Gerry Mulligan / Chet Baker

Track list:

1. Line For Lyons
2. For An Unfinished Woman
3. My Funny Valentine
4. Song For Strayhorn
5. It's Sandy At The Beach
6. Bernie's Tune
7. K-4 Pacific
8. There Will Never Be Another You

Running time: 70 minutes
Released: 1974

One jazz epic down, another to go. This is the second hour-plus disc in a row, and again coming from the same big box of jazz classics. Two old school horn players; not a lot of hope that this will work for me. Lets see.

There is no preamble here, it just dives into a melody right away. TV jazz; soft, bland and inoffensive are the first thoughts that assail me as it gets going. Perfectly pleasant but devoid of a selling point. This is a concert recording, as the title states, and the audience make themselves known in the form of the applause that is clearly audible as the horns pass the main theme from one to the other, or to their supporting cast.  There are some little incongruities here; the keys sound electric and all kinds of tinny. The beeping, curtailed nature of those notes is at odds with the oh so standard forms exhibited. The guitar part stands out some for the same reasons.

Whereas Carmen Sings Monk was a large number of generally short pieces, this album is a 10 minutes shorter with 10 fewer tracks. If the opening number is anything to go by then these will swill around for the best part of 10 minutes each and then conclude without leaving any strong impressions on me at all.

I find the opening of the second tune much more engaging than any part of the first one. There is a bit more... something. Personality, I guess. The first track was so standard and traditional it failed to stand out. Here there is a bit more play in the rhythm, a bit more of a bottom end to the sound, and the horn leads us a wandering line over the top of quite a frenetic arrangement. It has some life, some liveliness to it. The guitar solo ditches the best of that - the clean, clear tones are at odds with the messier, dirtier sounds behind it and the contrast doesn't work too well. That said, I am liking the tune generally, and it has surprised me in that, which is good. There is a funky edge to things, and here the keys don't have the tinny electric sound so I think maybe I just didn't pick out the parts right before?

Anyhow, the primary problem with For an Unfinished Woman is its length. I wish it was wrapping up now - its done its bit. Alas there are another two minutes to go, as the spotlight merry-go-round spins around the band, then the main players retake the stage for the outro. This elongation stretches the interest a little thin, offering little in return. Knowing when to stop is a good thing.

There is a brief intro muttered to track three, I don't catch it beyond the name of the tune. The theme itself is a lonely trumpet, which could be from almost any era. It tugs on my biases, and my appreciation of the instrument even as it is deathly slow and causing me to yawn. It is a horrible wet November day outside, getting seriously dark already and it's only 16.20. I hate this time of year. Darkness and chilliness; the rain an added insult. I find myself yawning a lot as the laid back tune potters along, barely concealing the noise of traffic on the soaked road outside. It is, like the opening number, very pleasant in that sort of bland nothing kind of way. Harmless, but not something you would seek out.

No; it's better than the first track. The slow pace gives it character, and some of the horn-work has real charm to it. They are playing together now, a hint of conversation, call-response, and parallel narrative to close the track out. That was very nice, actually.

We are then into the soft electronics as primary backing. There is something about the jangly, slightly unreal nature of their sound that turns me off. Old movie soundtrack quality, bland and fading behind some soppy scene of disinterest to me. I look up having let my mind wander to find that I am only half way through this purgatory. This utterly unidentifiable, lost in a crowd meandering is over 9 minutes of dullness.

The next track is also a touch over 9 minutes, and begins with a breezy pace to it. The tempo is welcome as an antidote to the tune before - I can imagine that working really well for waking up an audience that may have become dozy - but not enough on its own to sustain an interest. It sounds like a cop-show soundtrack this time, old time car chases and sun-lit streets in some American town or other. Fast notes slide by like under-watered trees and overly perfect front yards. The first applause break is loud, as loud as any thus far, which makes me think they had been stirred into life. I like the staccato keys here, but not much beyond that and the bass. Those two elements give the track its flavour and vision; the other people cycling in and out offer attempts to enhance the solid base but uniformly fall flat. The hum of the bass in particular carries a purpose that is just not quite matched by the wandering nature of the tunes that are laid down over it. I find myself losing interest, but far further into the piece than I thought I would be.

I am struggling to find words. I don't like falling back to a boring "track 1... blah, track 2... blah, track 3... blah" format but with a selection of longer tracks like this that feels inevitable unless I either sit without writing for a while or digress into other topics. These posts are meant to be a stream of consciousness, an immediate reaction to the music that I own and catalog and whatever else is in my head at the time, not a play by play report. I have been mulling this over during a pacy but characterless piece which leaves me with no immediate opinion to share. I think that probably means it is rather dull.

Jazz guitar. I remain to be convinced. I am sure it can be played well, but there is something about the timbre of guitar jazz of this vintage that rubs me the wrong way. I think I like my guitars dirty and energetic and the super clean, clear sound that appears on jazz recordings like this one is too noodle-y, too self-referential and self-important. I think I have the same issues with many rock guitar heroes - all pose, no purpose; all skill, no soul; all touch, no torch. Suffice to say that the guitar has a prominent part in the 11 minute epic that is our penultimate number and I find the track flowing off my ears like water from a duck's back. I just don't care - not that this monolith doesn't have good points, but they are rather buried under the mountain here.

I am trying to mentally organise my next four days. There are a number of things I want to achieve in my week off and I have not made the best start today. Not a complete wash, but not far off for one reason or another. The crappy weather certainly didn't help (being uninspired when looking up and out doesn't help my naturally low motivation), though luckily I was out and back in the dry for my errands earlier. I am struggling to pin down a plan; hopefully the next listen won't be an hour plus - because these things feature in plans for every day this week. Making up for lost time, but they do pin me here, especially because I am busy most evenings and all next weekend. It's a hard life.

Anyhow, our protagonists are into their final act, another bright and breezy number, but one that is devoid of engagement, all a little flat for me. The disc had a couple of good numbers on it, and a few more moments of real class. It certainly wasn't a horrible listen, but the majority was no more than diverting, elevator music and soundtracks rather than something I might want to sit down to.

Carmen Sings Monk - Carmen McRae

Track list:

1. Get It Straight (live)
2. Dear Ruby
3. It's Over Now
4. Monkery's the Blues
5. You Know Who
6. Little Butterfly
7. Listen to Monk
8. How I Wish
9. Man, That Was a Dream
10. 'Round Midnight
11. Still We Dream
12. Suddenly (live)
13. Looking Back
14. Suddenly
15. Get It Straight
16. 'Round Midnight (Alternate Take)
17. Listen to Monk (Alternate Take)
18. Man, That Was a Dream (Alternate Take)

Running time: 79 minutes
Released: 1988

Another big box of jazz entry. There is no way I would have stumbled across this outside of a bulk purchase. Whilst Monk has been an interest of mine since I first realised I liked jazz I have no sense of Carmen McRae at all. This is a long one, too - running to almost 80 minutes with bonus tracks, alternate takes etc. Could be great, or could be that it rubs me wrong. We shall see.

We begin with a live recording of Straight, No Chaser with a double bass and then Ms McRae scatting the tune, before bringing in a lyric that has been added. A wider arrangement then picks up and we have horn, keys and drums as well as the bass. It's likeable enough I guess but feels a bit too "lounge" somehow, and then veers off into the territory of rotating spotlights/solos - with whooping and applause added in the mix between each because live version. I don't like the singing much - there isn't a great deal of it, but it sounded out of place to me, which means this could be a long afternoon.

This post is long overdue - I have let a couple of weekends slide by without making it, and the length of this disc means no chance at all for the midweek evening attempt. Even now, as I start, I am a little unsure as to whether I will make it through 80 minutes, but I am giving it a go. Pleasantly the vocal on Dear Ruby feels more in line with the pace and tone of the piece. Here, after the first vocal section ends, it is the horn that sounds out of place when it strikes up. That said, the gentle meandering melody grows on me, and I like the soft volume of the keys behind it. Again, it is very lounge-like, but here it suits better. I wonder if that is because I am less familiar with Ruby, My Dear - though I do have a Monk version of the tune which is half the length of this one. As it concludes (like the first number it had a long instrumental sandwiched between two lyrical verses) I find myself thinking this could be a very mixed bag.

On It's Over Now McRae uses her voice to simultaneously carry Monk's tune and her lyrics. That is a very nice touch. Then she again steps aside to allow her coterie of musicians to perform the tune, vocalisations appear to break up the flow a bit thereafter. Not lyrics, just sounds, until the song takes back the stage - though here is almost sounds like she is speaking the lines just with a bit more emotion than normal. Her voice is husky, which is quite nice, but I don't find it particularly melodic. The version of Blue Monk has a patiently slow cadence to it, a nice lazy sound. Even though the singing does not take my fancy, and the insistence on a bass solo wastes a good 30 seconds or so of my day, I find myself well disposed to the track until the saxophone... well it just has too much of an edge to it compared to the rest of the playing. Its harsh sound rubbing me the wrong way.

Sitting down to do this has had a soporific effect on me. I think it is a form of relaxation. Jazz music almost certainly helps with that, lots of soft sounds. I find my ear tracking the bass line on You Know Who, its soft reliability guiding my tired mind through the busier tune. I am off work tomorrow - and the rest of the week; I hope to get these pages back on track (amongst many other things). On just about every track here Carmen McCrae starts us off, then backs away, before returning to close. It feels a little formulaic. Her song is more prominent on some numbers than others, but the pattern has been set. I am still not taken with her voice, even when on a track like Little Butterfly she gets a bit more room to really sing. The bass and keys have been consistently enjoyable. I may have moaned about the bass solo above, but it wasn't the playing of it that annoyed me, so much as the presence of said solo.

Oh dear - she tried to go high note there and didn't quite reach it. That was a mistake. Some of the sax playing feels like a mistake too, slightly at odds with the timbre and tone set by the core structure of piano, bass and drums. Its not universally so though, rather it seems to blight certain tracks or even specific passages. I find the vocal as liable to miss as the horn, which is a shame.

Having said that, the way the sax opens us up on How I Wish, supported by feathered drums and a wandering bass, is an example of how it can be done right. Some way into this tune it hits a harsh note that shakes me out of appreciation for a second but for the most part there is a lovely bluesy tone and a soft fuzz to the sound. This song stands out from the others thus far because McRae comes in after a long intro, basically with her and the keyboard replacing the saxophone. I find the song a better fit for the singer here too, until she again shrieks a little too high. There is a nice soulful sound to her voice in places, but much of the time it sounds like it is fighting with the tune and the arrangement rather than complementing it and at no point do I find her utterings compelling. It sounds to me like she pushes herself to far towards notes outside her natural range, where that effort would have been better spent by putting more life into the sections that are definitely within her register.

There are things I like here, even moments where I like the singing, but alas, she sings in such a way that I am always expecting a moment I don't like to be just around the corner. Every time she goes up higher, I cringe. 'Round Midnight is particularly bad for this, made worse because for much of this number her voice is in really good accord with the music behind it. I find it astonishing that this album apparently got her a Grammy nomination for vocal performance because she just doesn't deliver a reliable and enjoyable rendition on any of the first 10 tracks. Moments, yes, complete tracks, no. Add to that the fact that much of the time she is taking a back seat to her arrangements and the nomination is a bafflement to me.

To avoid being too negative... when it all slows down with lots of space left by our structural trio and where the sax is nowhere to be heard there is some really lovely playing. The tunefulness of Still We Dream is a treat, for example. McRae does a nice In Walked Bud too... I love the rhythm of this tune anyway and she again carries tune and lyric together in a breathy approach that takes on that rhythm. Alas, that is but the first part of the track. This is another live number and it devolves into the round robin solo problem. When McRae's voice rejoins to close out the track it is far less engaging and the timbre is off. The opening is stellar, the rest falls away disappointingly.

The bad outweighs the good here for me. As I hit the last "new" track (the final five are reimaginings of what has been before) I find myself detached, uninterested, yet also a touch conflicted. Whilst it is fair to say that the singer hasn't grabbed me, some of the tunes are lovely and well performed and it seems a shame to sacrifice the keys, bass and percussion for a few faults in the vocal. That is the way I am leaning though, a clean sweep.

The alternate, studio recording, of Suddenly/In Walked Bud has a brighter tempo but less soul. The studio recording of Get It Straight sounds more goofy when she vocalizes the opening. It is almost as if my mind, made up, is contriving these retakes to confirm the decision it leant on. I much prefer the alternate interpretation of 'Round Midnight. There are fewer cringe moments when the tune goes beyond the comfortable range, but it is also soporifically slow and overlong for something stuck towards the end of a long album I have not much enjoyed. At the end of the day, I really don't think adding lyrics and a vocalist add anything to Monk's underlying tunes. They feel unnecessary and tacked on, because that is exactly what they are. This is just underlined further when the lyrics added are as lifeless and trite as on Listen to Monk for example. Having sat through it a second time the valueless nature of the lyrical content is only too obvious.

The final track leaves a better last impression, both the singing and the tune are better, the latter being really nice (not for the first time). However it is too little too late; I have several Monk recordings and I don't need these versions.

Carbon Glacier - Laura Veirs

Track list:

1. Ether Sings
2. Icebound Stream
3. Rapture
4. Lonely Angel Dust
5. The Cloud Room
6. Wind Is Blowing Stars
7. Shadow Blues
8. Anne Bonny Rag
9. Snow Camping
10. Chimney Sweeping Man
11. Salvage a Smile
12. Blackened Anchor
13. Riptide

Running time: 39 minutes
Released: 2004

I think my first exposure to Laura Veirs must have been through LastFM. All I remember is that something drove me to pick up July Flame which I absolutely adored and from there I picked up a smattering of her other work, but never went all in. This is one of a number of other Veirs albums I did pick up. If I enjoy this as much as I think I might, I may have to fill the back-catalog holes. Thirteen tracks in thiry-nine minutes is a fair clip, so lets get to it.

Ether Sings has a stronger emphasis on the vocal than I would expect. I am not sure it works that well; Veirs' voice is an odd one and this sort of strong vocal centre does not suit it that well in my view. The backing is a cute little guitar loop and some odd electronics which lend the piece a Jeckyll and Hyde quality to it. I would file the song under interesting rather than good. The second track also has Veirs' vocal as a loud centrepiece. This track uses that better though, with a more piecemeal backing that sort of fits around her. It is immediately more appealing, even though that backing is also somewhat untuneful in places.

It is the day after the clocks went back. 4pm and the skies are already starting to darken. I hate this time of year. It will be worse tomorrow, when I expect it will be largely if not entirely dark before I leave work. Joy. I am hoping that there are some nice songs in here to help take my bitter mind off the impending dark winter. Rapture has a nice echoing effect to it, the vocal is softer, which I think suits it better, and it has a sense of narrative to it - quite apart from the lyrics, the different strands of the arrangement, and different phrases of the composition carry this over. I rather like it.

I can't shake the feeling that this weekend has been a bit of a write off. After a nice evening of boardgames on Friday night I feel that I have managed nothing in the time since. I don't even feel rested after taking advantage of the extra hour to stretch to almost 11.5 hours in bed. My eyes are drooping now as they were yesterday when I listened to Cara Dillon. I find my tired head nodding along with The Cloud Room though - this has a nice energy to it. A simple lyric performed with a distinctive voice, and a strong, if unadventurous, backing makes the chorus very appealing, and the weaving of electronics in the arrangement offset the rest of the sounds well enough to keep it interesting.

What follows that is stripped right back, and feels bare by comparison. There's a hint of the old west to Wind Is Blowing Stars to my ear - probably coming through from the way the fiddle is used to add a strained note here and there under the main tune. The tone of the album has been jumping around a bit, for sure, and it goes dark and bluesy next. The nicest touch is the addition of a deep male voice following Veirs' lead and providing an aural shadow, to go with the name. The haunting nature of the music is nice, but the vocal contrast - her bright and clear, him dark and looming - is what makes the song shine. I sit, largely spellbound whilst it plays out. I'd like to place that shadowing voice but I can't. What I can say is what it reminds me of, and that is the combination of Isobel Campbell & Mark Lanegan.

That masterful track is followed by a breezy instrumental - again playing with stereotypical western-y themes, with a somewhat honky-tonk key line. It is a brief interlude before Veirs' voice returns, offset by a gentle guitar and cymbals that evoke crashing waves. A sad song I think, though I don't make out enough of the lyrics to be sure. I love it when the arrangement picks up more, rounding out the sound and coalescing it into a stand out track. Snow Camping - you should try it.

Random thought: My fingers smell faintly of vanilla, popcorn eaten before I started this post.

There is a wonderful tone to the guitar on Chimney Sweeping Man. There is a slight echo to Veirs' voice here - an effect I think she must be fond of, but one that works very well with her singing voice so I cannot blame her for that. It contrasts the simple clarity of the melody nicely. I think, with a few still to go, that it is fair to say I really like this disc. Not as much as July Flame, but then it hasn't had the same crack at inveigling its way into my musical consciousness so that isn't really a surprise. Nothing here stands out quite as much as my favourite Veirs track, Summer is a Champion, but the general quality is high.

That said, there is a discordant edge to Salvage a Smile, a tightness to the strings that sets my teeth on edge. It makes for really tough listening, a screech of discomfort behind her words. Thankfully the track is short, and is washed away from my thoughts with the opening breaking waves of Blackened Anchor. This, too, has a tightness in the strings that form part of the opening swell, but here it is controlled - edgy, but emphatic and not unpleasant. It reminds me a little of the opening credits to Black Sails, which I really should get back to as I enjoyed season 1 a lot. The tune is an instrumental, and over quickly so I am into the closer.

Riptide is a simple guitar and voice effort, a nice roll to it, and a bit more depth after the first verse is done. Simple tapping percussion is a nice change, and I love her voice here. Slightly more rounded, very well fitted to the tune behind it. It is a chilled exit to the album, which has flown by. I really should look up her other works and fill out my holdings. There is just something about her take on Americana - for that is the easiest genre label to apply, if not a completely accurate one - that resonates well for me. The song leads out with a long instrumental, strings partnering the guitar and simple rhythm; the end arrives suddenly and without fuss, plunging me into the hum of my CPU and the tapping of these keys.

Laura Veirs (I keep typing Veris - darn fingers!) is great, guys. Check her out.

Cara Dillon - Cara Dillon

Track list:

1. Black Is the Colour
2. Donald of Glencoe
3. Craigie Hill
4. Green Grows the Laurel
5. The Lark in the Clear Air
6. The Lonesome Scenes of Winter
7. Blue Mountain River
8. I Wish I Was
9. The Maid of Culmore
10. She's Like the Swallow
11. I Am a Youth That's Inclined to Ramble

Running time: 45 minutes
Released: 2001

We side-track into folk songs now. This was Cara Dillon's debut solo work and one of the first folk albums I remember buying after getting into traditional music in my early 20s. I can't recall what drew me to it - I am almost certain it was bought unheard - but I did rather fall for a couple of the renditions on this recording, particularly the opening track, and liked it enough to buy at least one follow-up.

The piano part that opens traditional tune Black Is the Colour is polluted a bit by the organ accompaniment but that is easily overlooked once Dillon's voice joins in. There is a lovely tremour in her delivery, a slight warble that lends a warmth to the track. The song is sung faithfully, which is to say that  she hasn't gender-flipped it and made it about a black haired lad. All through I find myself drawn to the piano line (should be no surprise by now), a gentle repeating loop that gives more structure than real melody but captivates none-the-less. The tune whizzes by and it never seems to grow to the extent my recollection of it would suggest but it is still hugely pleasant.

Dillon's voice keeps her accent - or enough of it - intact. I think that was one of the major draws for me. Too many singers flatten their voices in song, ending up with a generic (if brilliant) singing voice as a result. Of course, having claimed that I am struggling to think of a clear example where the speaking and signing voices sound so very different. Typical. The second track has none of the warmth of the first; sounds a little tinny, a bit flat, phoned in. Less so in the vocal than in the arrangement to be fair, but it all feels a little disconnected. Craigie Hill, which follows, dispels that again by stripping everything back to voice and keys. Harmonies in the vocal, and a really nice swaying rhythm to the lines sell this track hard, and I feel the hairs on my arms standing in places. There is a bit more of a rich arrangement after the first verses are done, but the drumming is subtle and supportive. That the track works so well in both light and rich arrangements is because the singing is freed to star throughout.  Dillon's voice rises and falls, speeds through and draws out as needed and works really well with the layering effect; I think its production rather than backing vocals that gives the harmony.

Her voice is interesting. It does not always sound the strongest; at points in Green Grows the Laurel I am far from convinced by the singing. Yet at other points she clearly has something special. I think it better suits some songs, some forms. Oh god, mind blank. My eyes have shut as if lead weights were hung from my eyelids and along with that my brain has lost all train of thought. Sudden tiredness is weird.

A couple of tunes drift by whilst I try to reform my thoughts and focus on my task at hand. I find myself thinking Dillon sounds much better in harmony than alone. There is something about the timbre of her voice that is amplified when offset and that is where the really warm, engaging sounds are found. These are all traditional songs, but there are points in there where the more modern arrangements clearly stand out and add their own sense of things. The confluence of voices and instrumental crescendo on the chorus of The Lonesome Scenes of Winter is one such time, where the electrified guitar part and the rich interweaving of the wider arrangement really lift the track. As the tracks pass me by I find myself recognising large swathes of each which is something of a surprise because I don't really have any sense of listening to this at length for more than a decade.

The louder, richer moments - voices blended together, whether multiple sources or technical effects, and deeper arrangements - are the heart and soul of this album. They take the otherwise nice but plain tunes and inject a sense of personality, a stamp of ownership. A reason to listen to these recordings of them. I find my mind drifting more in the softer and quieter verses, but being dragged back on track by the choruses - I Wish I Was being a clear case of this, even though the choruses concerned lack discernable lyrics.

There is a chill sense to The Maid of Culmore, the more mournful tone and sparse opening bars cool the air. It is a tuneful take but a little too slow and sad for me to really enjoy in a state where my eyes want to droop. Two to go; I think I don't recognise She's Like a Swallow to start with, then the other musicians all come in and memory returns. I don't think it is a great tune, but it is a very comfortable one. Simply put, all the stresses are in the right places for me, and the way the piece comes together - again, energised by the crescendos and ensemble play - raises a comfortable and knowing smile. It just works.

As with the rest of the disc, the strongest moments in the final track come with the central theme. Not a chorus this time, but a repeated bridge that has solid playing and a hummed vocal melody that envelops the listener with warmth - it is a swell, another crescendo that is mirrored behind parts of the verse too. Its a lovely effect, the intertwined vocal lines really making it. Cara Dillon - best in stereo, or something.

Capricornia - Allo Darlin'

Track list:

2. When You Were Mine

Running time: 3 minutes
Released: 2012

I have a quickie to fit in. A singleton from a single, I guess. I think I picked this up from Bandcamp after already having the A side as an album track but I could be wrong. I loved Allo Darlin' and frankly since then have picked up everything I have seen them do (rather than everything they've done) to somewhat mixed results. When they are good, though, they are very, very good indeed.

When You Were Mine is upbeat and tuneful, a guitar tootling around over a pacy rhythm. It has me tapping my foot immediately. The song is washing over me, I don't think it is the singer's best moment - there are points in the song where she sounds flat - but it serves mostly to counterpoint the tune and rhythm with a different sort of sound, obscuring the repetitive nature of the composition enough for it to be enjoyable. Not their strongest effort, but a pleasing little 3 minute pop song. And that is me done!

Cantando - Bobo Stenson Trio

Track list:

1. Olivia
2. Song of Ruth
3. Wooden Church
4. M
5. Chiquilín de Bachín
6. Pages
7. Don's Kora Song
8. A Fixed Goal
9. Love, I've Found You
10. Liebesode
11. Song of Ruth (variation)

Running time: 77 minutes
Released: 2008

Yet more jazz from northern climes. A bit of a glut, it seems. This is a long one, and not conveniently split into two parts. Bobo Stenson is a Swedish pianist, so I guess I was looking for another gem like Esbjörn Svensson (not that there is any reason why two Swedish jazz pianists leading trios need be alike in any way). I have no strong recollections of these tunes though, so I guess there was nothing that stand out. That said, I doubt I have sat down and really given it time or space before.

The first thing I notice, as I hit play is that these tunes appear to be composed by others. Whilst Stenson leads this trio, he is credited with co-writing just one of the tunes. This is a surprise to me, but there is certainly enough jazz out there to support a recording full of reinterpretations - though admittedly I wouldn't be surprised if my track metadata is innacurate. Olivia is all wandering keys, disconnected bass and playful drums... a lounge-like insouciance (yes the word means what I think it does); I wish I had some of that. This post has been two weeks coming as a result of weddings (not mine), not enough sleep and getting my priorities screwed up. I blame the length of this disc, about as long as CDs ever get. I am forcing myself to do it on a Sunday evening to try to rekindle the drive behind this project. Whilst I have been making excuses, Olivia has kept playing, flitting in and out of my conscious thoughts. It doesn't have a dominant or coherent tune really - more a collection of small snatches of sound. They are nice and all, but it doesn't sustain complete attention or interest for the seven allotted minutes.

There is a stronger theme to Song of Ruth, the piano weaving a sombre and solemn tune around a skittering percussion and sparsely structural bass. I rather like the timbre, but it feels a little overwrought, bearing down on my choice to listen this evening. There are little moments of light though, when the piano reaches the higher registers there is a nice, hopeful musicality to the notes. Whereas the last couple of Nordic jazz listens have been short, snappy tunes for the most part, many of these tunes are longer, echoing the epics of the past. I am not feeling in the mood for lengthy oeuvres, but that is what I face.

Suffice to say that the similarities with Svensson end at being Swedish. Googling whilst Wooden Church struggles to engage me I find that Stenson is 20 years older than Svensson would be were he still with us. This does not surprise me; these tunes have a more traditional, less energetic, feel to them and are failing to excite. Don't get me wrong, the playing is nice and the sounds are pleasant enough, but the lack of urgency and laid back nature of these pieces is failing to grab me in any way. That is probably in part because I am having to force this listen but there is definitely an element of this being a bit too stately for my tastes. The opening of M is the best the disc has been so far, the piano skimming over a lot of high notes, the contrast with a low thrum from the bass and the skittering percussion is sweet and welcome. The tune is pleasant and dominant - the latter hasn't always been true thus far - and a bit more intricate. Something to get stuck in to.

The stronger sounds from the keyboard are a welcome shift in tone, and I find myself really enjoying M as it continues. It shows the wonder a good melody can offer. There is not too much change in bass and drums really from the tracks that preceded M, but the difference in the piano part is huge. More life, more action, more heart. The thing is - you often need percussion and structure for tunes to shine, and not everyone can be the hero all the time. Sometimes it is better for those disciplines to stay in the shadows a little. I can understand the desire to do something a little different, play with preconceptions and have these guys get their times to shine but... pianos are just so much better at carrying!

I am drawn back from a wandering mind by another moment where the "let the others have their day" mindset sticks out. Bass solos just aren't (generally) that interesting, you know. That goes double for drum solos. M appears to be the exception, not the rule; whilst there is more of a tune running through the subsequent number, it doesn't have the same strength of character and the devolution into spotlights for the supporting cast typifies it, making for a forgettable piece. We are then launched into a 13 minute epic, and it is fair to say my hopes are not high. Pages starts at a glacial pace and seems to be shooting for an atmospheric quality that nothing which has gone before suggests will be a success. It manages to be a little haunting, but at the same time it is also largely bland - too much space left around each note, and those notes not conveying enough.

The track goes silent for a second about 3 and a half minutes in. Sound returns with an edgy scratching from the percussion. This is not comfortable listening, but that edginess wouldn't be a problem if the resulting sounds were gripping - instead... well, it sounds a little bit like that one jazz stereotype, the one that, to me as someone who listens to a fair bit of jazz as part of a balanced musical diet, is utterly infuriating. The one that spawned the Jazz Club sketches on The Fast Show (Nice!).

That everyone is separately making it up as they go.

Ugh. I hate that as a throwaway insult but, as much as that is the case, it feels like it applies here. Worse, the 13 minute track is actually made up of several shorter sections that have very different themes. I don't get any sense of cohesion from the piece, no flow, no reason why these disparate sounds have been adjoined in this manner. For my money none of the little snippets are that interesting in and of themselves and they become less so when strung together like this. Pages is a sure fire casualty.

Huh, now that is interesting. The bass-led opening of Don Kora's Song has me thinking of Rodrigo y Gabriela of all things. Something in the cadence of the track has a Latin vibe and the hum of the bass is evocative of their guitar work. It is a huge step up in interest. There is a nice tune there - both melody and bass structure are coming from the keys, though the actual upright bass is contributing, the dominant theme is from the lower register piano, which means Stenson is playing two tunes, albeit one simple and repeating, with one hand each. This gives a nice effect, but arguably the track is more effective when the bassy part is being plucked. Or rather, it would be if the weighting towards the keys was maintained whilst that were happening - in practice the key treble is backed off in the recording. Still, a big step forward and the first sub 6-minute track.

The second "half" of the album is much shorter than the first and we blow through the next two tracks in half the run time of Pages. The first of those is an Ornette Coleman tune (I recognise the name but cannot claim familiarity with his work). I find it a bit tuneless for my taste, and it is best just before it closes. Too little, too late. The second is just over 3 minutes and a much more delicate tune. It suffers a little from too much weight on the wandering bass - the melody would have more impact if it was cleaner and clearer, but making the piano any stronger in and of itself would destroy the delicateness the tune conjures. I like it, to a point but it would be better with a solo piano.

Two to go. Liebesode (not to be confused with Liebestod by And None of Them Knew They Were Robots - there is an unlikely tag for you!) is again longer. It is mournful, with funereal pace. Lonely and sad strings carry the early part of the tune, with the piano hovering in the bass register. I am not sold on the strings here, there isn't much in their part here other than a huge serving of sadness and  it is a little overbearing. When the piano contributes more than the odd note it helps lift the piece and, as we pass 5 minutes, it seems to take over the lead. Alas the pace and timbre are unchanged and it is that stately, sad nature of the track that fails to work for me. The melody has become something of a joy but alas it is fighting against an indifference the rest of the playing did a lot to create.

The final number is a reprise of Song of Ruth and seems to have the keys alone, at least to begin with. Whilst it is a little subdued in tone I find I like it - the clarity of sound on the melody is appreciated, though it becomes dilutes some when the drums join in after a while. This is not a happy song, not played like this at least (I am not familiar with the original composition), but this particular variation does not have the same over-the-top tendency that I found on the earlier version. It gets a bit too busy at the half way mark, the flow of the tune broken up a little by the increase in tempo and complexity but once I adjust to the new level of activity it still has an even keel and better stressing. I think track two is for the chop and I'll just keep this one - it's much more engaging.

Time to go through and cut out some dead wood, then. And just in case anyone expects it now, next time out on these pages won't be more Scandinavian jazz.

Buoyancy - Nils Petter Molvær

Track list:

1. Ras Mohammed
2. Gilimanuk
3. Moute Cave
4. Jackson Reef
5. Puri Jati
6. Lamna Reef
7. Amed
8. Martoli Bridge
9. Kingfish Castle
10. Maddagala

Running time: 45 minutes
Released: 2016

More Scandi-jazz, bought alongside Atmosphères - though I have been familiar with Molvær for longer than Henriksen. I was first attracted by description of how the trumpet was laid on over electronic soundscapes but to be honest since my initial purchase (NP3) I think I may have been picking stuff up based on name recognition and concept rather than any deep appreciation of Molvær's actual material. This will be a good litmus test.

It opens with a heartbeat-sounding throb, but then introduces prog-rockish guitars, the horn lurking inside melodies that wouldn't be out of place in a concept album. The piece picks up some pace about the 2.30 mark and it has a decent life to it, but it is a little removed from anything I could have expected going in. I am starting to wonder whether a trumpet appears at all in this Pink Floydian first tune when I hear a snatch of it, unmistakable. It is not the star though, part of the ensemble here.

As we leave prog-rock behind for the start of the second track, the attention does focus on the blower. This tune is slower, languid, and with a hint of danger. Night time noir music - I have used this description many times by now and I still find it the most easily evocative phrasing for what I mean. Rooted in soundtracks, night shots of cities, aerial or street shots, camera pans - scene setting stuff rather than accompanying the action or showdowns - but definitely reminiscent of a certain type of tension. Jazz is good at this, even when not made by the Americans that come most readily to mind when thinking of Noir. Even when the sounds are more modern than the "classic" noir era would support. I think its fair to say I like Gilimanuk, though the name could use some work.

After a brief interlude we hit a more percussive number, Jackson Reef being driven by a high tempo and heavy on the electronics. The themes that come out dominant are actually slow, low and spaced out affairs, and the contrast between this and the incessant pace set by the drumming creates a decent cauldron before the melodies get a bit of a fuel injection and become more intricate for a while. I prefer the contrast though, and when that comes back the track improves again. About a minute from the end the percussion dies out and we get an outro that feels like a different track. Similarity is maintained in the guitars and the lonely trumpet strikes up to carry us home, outlasting the strands of continuity. It makes for a strange ride of a tune, but apart from the moment where the drums just stop it works quite nicely and organically.

I have, I am sure, mentioned before about my weakness for long, lonely notes. I find that the trumpet is pretty much king when it comes to delivering on this. There is a yearning in the natural timbre of this instrument that when employed in certain fashion or style becomes the dominant and overriding emotion in the piece. Puri Jati has this in spades and I really like it. The tune also manages to hark back to the Bastion soundtrack by virtue of its low-end structures, and that reference makes me smile. The two themes I picked up there should be incongruous in many ways but I find they knit together well. As I consider that, the disc plays on and a slower number lazily reaches out to my ears. There is definite variation on this disc, which is a plus-point... though as I type that the electronics evolve into a high pitched squeak and make for a rather unpleasant end to the track.

Amed is the longest track on the disc. To now, everything has been relatively short and sweet, lending a feeling of momentum even on the tracks with less pace. This one stretches to 9 minutes, and as such I am expecting a centrepiece.

It starts slow, atmospheric, and builds. Mostly bass and trumpet, the former bringing threat and the latter bringing hope. When, about half way through, the guitars and electronics arrive they emphasize the first of these two elements, and it becomes a dark, screechy track, long drawn out screeches, cries for help. The drums and bass pick up speed and the thrumming basis for the piece grows around the electronics, establishing dominance. It has definitely built, and it definitely works as a focal point for the disc. The trumpet, meanwhile, disappeared somewhere along the way; what results is a piece that I like but which could be by any number of purveyors of electronica. Then it all goes quiet, the trumpet returns and we end with a final act that bids recollection, reminiscence. A masterwork it isn't, but it is a good solid epic around which to build the album.

Three tracks come after. The first is short and reverential, Molvær's horn standing alone, with some background static that hints at waves; it's a nice palate cleanser. The next actually resonates with the title of the album, the rhythms here conjouring images of a boat rocking on waves, tipping cargo gently from side to side and making soft impacts each time. Its a lovely effect because whilst the reality of boats bobbing on waves isn't as regular as the rhythm behind this sound, the actual beat pattern carries a feel of irregularity to it, whilst still serving as the backbone for the themes that are layered over it. This might be my favourite track on the disc, and I have only really taken on board the percussion. The bobbing percussion is dropped at the end, along with all themes, for an engine-like rumble that just sees the tune out; this I find an odd choice, and a disappointing one.

The final track feels lighter, pairing the trumpet with a nice guitar theme which gives me a Mogwai-like vibe, albeit perhaps a little more chilled. I can't shake the feeling it goes too long without introducing major variation though, and it all merges to become a little bland as a result. Nice sounds, but going nowhere, if you will. There is a shake up in tone and theme about the midpoint of the track but it feels too late. The tune, particularly the trumpet line, is nice but my brain has already disengaged a little, the smell of food cooking, and the knowledge of work to do.

All in all, I think this is a nice disc, and one I can see spending more time with, but not anything outstanding. Molvær's ideas are interesting and worth exploring, even if they don't always reach that one step further that would turn them to genius.