Meshell's Moods

Anger can be a great musical catalyst. The story is told about Miles Davis's historic 1964 concert at Lincoln Center, that the band was angry that Miles had preemptively waived their fees for charity. The performance, duly celebrated in two albums, My Funny Valentine and Four and more, can be said to have that urgent yet sinuous edge that make it one of the essential live musical performances. The young rhythm section is especially on fire; you can almost hear the added accents in Tony Williams's percussion, Ron Carter does all the right things as a low end theoretician on the bass, and Herbie Hancock solves differential equations on his piano. And then there's the horns of course, Miles is lyricism itself - the ballads are simply wonderful, and George Coleman blows throughout as if it's a cutting contest. The son of man claimed that man cannot live on bread alone, these hungry musicians tried to come up with a corollary to that notion over the course of the concert. Suffice to say that it was an important occasion for all concerned and the potency of the music endures.

It was in this vein that I listened to Meshell NdegeOcello's band last Friday at The New Parish in Oakland. It wasn't quite anger that was at work, it was more like irritation that was the catalyst but who am I to quibble about the end result. I'll get to the whys, wherefores and textures of their sound but should get the hyperbole off my chest upfront.

Simply put, Meshell NdegeOcello's band is the coldest band since The Revolution circa 1985.

If you want a slightly more precise description, I'm referring to the sound and attitude that pertained as the Purple Rain continued to fall, you know, before the addition of horns and the looser feel of the Parade and Sign of the Times bands. I'm talking about a well-oiled band that is out to make a point, a band that wants to share an important moment. Meshell and company are forced to be reckoned with in their live performances, moreover they are touring to support a strong new album, Devil's Halo and are fully committed to its rocky soul aesthetic.

The Wife called them sick - her slang is of a different vintage, for me they were stone cold. Their creative energy harnessed as it was, was something to behold. The sonic architecture brought in elements of Sly Stone, Bootsy Collins, Stanley Clarke and Eddie Hazel. And they were versatile in their approach. Meshell can go from Nathalie Merchant primness to Betty Davis fierceness without skipping a beat and she'll throw in some Sly and Robbie dub for good measure. By the time, they got around to freaking Prince's Dirty Mind, rendering it like no one has heard it before, my jaw had already dropped, I was in awe. When someone is in this kind of mood you can only sing along - and admire.

But on to the bit about anger... As we stood in line outside the club, we overheard mutterings about problems. There were scattered phrases that might cause your average concertgoer to raise their eyebrows, things like "No soundcheck", "Equipment came late", "Damn rental company", "Will they even play?" and so forth. The crowd was suitably wary. They were playing at a new venue, a small club and a suitably intimate joint but one where the kinks were still being worked out. And it showed at the outset even as they came out with such energy. For the first three songs, the sound was slightly off. There were sufficient glitches to cause Meshell to basically throw away the small sound machine (synthesizer/sampler thingimijig) that she's started performing with. Her sound technicians were feeling the pressure as they scrambled to fix things. The underlying tension only heightened the performance. Thus she stuck mostly to singing for the rest of the show and would sing mostly from the more recent parts of her songbook. Call the concert an exercise in aural seduction. Raging songs like Lola, Mass Transit, The Sloganeer - Paradise, and Article 3 were full of urgency. Only occasionally would she pick up the bass when her mood would veer into the ecstatic. Mostly she was orchestrating the shifting soundscapes that now characterize her music; the short outbursts that are the bread and butter of her songcraft only slightly lengthened for the live performance.

There was an element of pride as they paced on stage, as if they all had a point to prove. Oakland may only be a pit stop between the bigger commercial venues - Los Angeles (with the beautiful people) and San Francisco (with the sexy people) where they would play the next night. Oakland however is important for soul singers, functioning as a sort of comfort interlude that restores one's swagger. It's a town that appreciates the ironic mood of a song like White Girl, the audience will laugh in the right places.

Songs like Dead Nigga Blvd - from 2003's Cookie, have extra resonance when sung one block away from Martin Luther King Jnr. Avenue, five minutes away from Mandela Parkway, and 10 minutes away from Malcolm X Elementary School. And she is right to be angry, as expressed in the lyrics and performance of that song, at the disrespect and dysfunctionality of part of the black community in Oakland and elsewhere. People campaigned, marched and sacrificed much labour and even blood to secure the gains of the civil rights struggle, commemorated in those boulevards and yet some would say much is being dissipated. The salty language of the song decries a drive-by mentality accented by the staccato keyboard riffs of the song. The mournful Die Young also struck a chord in that vein. It would figure that only a couple of days later I would read the headline she'd anticipated: Man shot and killed in downtown Oakland. Such is life, or rather such is death in these parts. To die over nothing, a block from the martyr's boulevard...

But back to the considerable songcraft on display. Bitter was her pre-millenium, album length meditation on a mood and we were treated to Fool of Me and Faithful in that key. Fellowship and Forgiveness and Love upped the dub quotient, the reggae tinge of a comfort woman. She took up an acoustic guitar for Crying In Your Beer - lovely balladeering with Chris Bruce her fearless guitarist. Deantoni Parks was ferocious throughout on the drums, sounding like an army platoon. Keefus Ciancia had four or more keyboards and would add ethereal sound effects. She's comfortable having Mark Kelley on bass which is a compliment to his capabilities. All in all this a group with a creative edge. We were treated to a lush musical moment capturing shifting moods.

For the encore, she comes out, picks up her bass and gets into her great remake of Ready for the World's Love you Down. It is spacey, laced with dub stylings, and soulful to the core. It is also flawlessly executed.

Meshell is not one to coddle her audience but she is definitely thankful that we stayed with her on this night. We weren't too demanding for the old favourites and went along with the musical trip of the new songs. Devil's Halo is strong set verging on the rock end of a soul spectrum. You could see the sense of confidence and perhaps a little swagger in the step of all the musicians as they left. In her current thankful mood she is perhaps reaching a sentiment expressed in the title of her second album: Peace beyond Passion.

...

The opening act, Beatropolis, were were a musical puzzle of sorts if only because their feel-good sensibility was hard to pin down. Perhaps we should let them descibe themselves in their own words: "live organic drum and bass... many styles". Indeed there were many styles on display, from an acid jazz start, mix in The Roots circa Organix, a touch of Joycelyn Brown, a smidgen of Roni Size or perhaps Dizzee Rascal and let everything simmer. They would throw in a jungle version of You're All I Need To Get By just because they could, and why ever not, I expect Marvin and Tammi would concur. Perhaps most impressive was Fall Apart. Yeats never would have imagined that a century after writing The Second Coming that we'd have rappers declaiming that "The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity" to a fierce drum-n-bass beat, a jungle lament about things falling apart, a topic close to my heart. Needless to say, I approve.

...

The full-length video of Meshell's Seattle concert from the following week finds her and band in a more laidback and relaxed mood. Compare to her previous escapades in jazz from a few years ago.

File under: music, soul, rock, funk, review, concert, live, appreciation, mood, virtuosity, MeShell NdegeOcello, toli

Sunday Night with Amel Larrieux

Soul singers seem to dig Oakland. Something about the city's vibe resonates with them. Their appreciation is always reciprocated and audiences move rapidly from laidback contemplation to active engagement. Somehow I managed to catch Amel Larrieux and her five piece band last Sunday night in performance at Yoshi's in Oakland. Thus I can share a few notes on a comfort suite...

An electric bass guitar begins warbling, sounding something like an ethereal sitar by the time Amel walks on stage. She hums and launches into a warm acoustic rendition of Morning, the title track of her most focused album. Right out of the gate her voice grabs you as if to say "Pay attention. Get ready for some soul music". She doesn't intend to leave anything on the stage.

Trouble, is done Latin style with, as is typical in her live performances, an impromptu ending in which she starts scatting with abandon. "Louis Armstrong", she later explains, "All those years trying to be like you". She adds, "Lena Horne too". Well she's a singer's singer, it stands to reason that she has impeccable taste.

Giving Something Up is a bassy funk groove overlaid with increasingly abstract vocal stylings as it progresses, the arrangement is a mixture of jazz, soul and hip hop. Then almost improbably she breaks into Amazing Grace - a song that has never been done in this mode, urgent futuristic blues. How, the listener wonders, can a song contains such multitudes, rendered so seamlessly?

All I Got is an effortless follow up, a march reflecting on our condition. The refrain is all about the set upon (when she sings the passing lyric "slapped down a racist fool", those darker than blue in the Oakland audience respond knowingly). It's about standing strong and living without expecting any big bailout or "helping hand" as she sings: "this is all I got" indeed. As she riffs on the economic climate, "we're thoroughly spent... our credit's jacked up", there is complete empathy with the five piece band. They follow her on that the long walk with those worn shoes.

She gives a stately take on Magic and the zingers are fired rapidly: "still paying for your education when you're sixty six". Again the chorus is revelatory: "stress level's high and the morale's low". It's a blues for our time done with minimalist instrumentation. She ends with a turn as a choir director enlisting the audience in three part harmony. This kind of crowd participation is fun: we all need to "tap into that magic" to overcome our subprime present. Indeed that has been the theme of the whole concert, acknowledging what is going on in the world and finding humour to deal with it. Amel is an unpretentious artist, she makes everyone feel at home. It doesn't hurt that she's very easy to look at, the word chic describes her clothes and the long hair is doing all the right things.

A cheer of recognition greets the start of For Real, the ballad being one of the perennial fan favourites. With deft piano playing in the background, she floats into the upper registers displaying her Minnie Riperton credentials. After welcoming a a few bars from a guest soprano in the audience, she takes over. Her vocal control is breathtaking. Game, set and match, I'd say. To top it off she provides three or four different takes of the song - live remixes on stage. I'm always interested in the way singers manage to keep their trademark songs alive; somehow Amel always comes up with new arrangements subscribing to the jazz improvisation aesthetic. The jazz inclination will keep her in good stead with her audience.

We Can Be New is a warm poem, a melodious ballad very beautifully sung and ends with a reggae tinge. It must be the band's trademark to provide full glimpses of her range and musical comfort zone.

She debuts a new song, Have You?, a lover's lament peppered with humourous lyrics "I've mixed denim with whites, have you?". By this stage we are all spellbound. The elements of her appeal are simple: sympathetic piano, the light accents of her backup singer (Amira) and a singer at her peak. Amel is in full effect.

Then I almost died of joy: she sang Gills and Tails - my favourite song, the very definition of virtuosity. The vocal performance is wonderful; what the professionals would call her cry is a thing to behold. It's emotional, it's cerebral, it's quietly devastating. It's everything I like in soul music.

Wild is the Wind from her album of standards, shrewdly titled Lovely Standards, is done as a homage to Nina Simone. It's just her and the piano player; she has got the audience clinging to her every note. As the song starts to wind down she brings in the rest of the band and they add a dance groove - whoa, she can do house music, what can't she do? - the groove then morphs into Dear to me. House music man, just for the heck of it. She took a jazz standard, did it with flair and, just to show how fearless she is, she gives you some house. I give up, I'm joining the street team, Amel.

As if she read my mind, she then covers Prince's Pop Life, it's a party pure and simple - she reminisces about the Purple Rain to Parade Revolution era of His Royal Badness (she notes that she even digs Tambourine! claiming by this revelation membership in that purple secret society) and talks about the rush she got performing Take Me With You with Kamal the Abstract a couple of weeks ago.

She closes with two crowd favourites: Get up, the monster club hit from Bravebird and Tell Me (from her Groove Theory beginnings). We're all dancing and singing along. It's a celebration. There's a community feeling. We'll be holding our head high in the weeks to come, smiling on Manic Mondays and Black Tuesdays, lifted above the fray, fortified by some soul music, a soundtrack to our struggles, "this great Mountain of When". This is her thing, this is what she does best: two ninety minute sets, three nights in a row in an intimate jazz venue. Every show sold out, the audience in the palm of her hand, the soul singer performs. Amel Larrieux has done it again.

File under: music, soul, review, concert, live, jazz, virtuosity, Amel Larrieux, toli

Cooking with Rokia Traoré

A night with Rokia Traoré at the Somerville Theatre, October 15, 2004

For many, the peak of Miles Davis's first great quintet were the four albums they recorded during a marathon studio session one magical day in October 1956. Relaxin', Workin', Cookin' and Steamin' were the album titles and collectively, they displayed the best of the jazz form of almost any era.

This was a group that had made a reputation touring together with a varied repertoire. The rhythm section of Red Garland, Philly Joe Jones and Paul Chambers was so well-oiled that it was called "The Rhythm Section", bold and capitalized. The quintet set the gold standard for musical empathy and high caliber fireworks something augmented in these recordings especially when a young John Coltrane would egg on bandleader Miles and trade solos.

The albums were recorded as if they were in a nightclub, Miles would call out a tune and off they would go laying out the definitive treatment of standards like Surrey With Fringe On Top or It Never Entered My Mind along with originals like Four and Half Nelson. These albums were probably the most conventional that Miles would make; he was never one to look back.

I mention all this because in many ways, Rokia Traoré's performance with her eight piece band last Friday reminded me of those landmark albums, in conception, in attitude and especially in the flawless execution.

Relaxin'

She walks out onto the stage quietly, picks up a guitar and begins playing. There are no diva theatrics - think of Beyonce being carried out Cleopatra-like by a guard of six hardbodies. This is a musician first and foremost; an unassuming singer/songwriter who knows that the music will speak for itself. She's lost the braids from a few years ago and her head is shaven, she's rocking the Angelique Kidjo aesthetic.

A back-up singer and a kora player accompany her and they begin with a touch of reflection, a couple of soft lilting ballads She's trying out the material from the new album, Bowmboï. It's a gentle introduction for the audience, fodder for a quiet evening on the porch.

Malian music is very well marketed in the West, moreso than say soukous, highlife or other forms of African music. The reason being that it is typically less frenetic than those forms and also because in many ways, it fits with a certain notion of "World Music": folky, laidback, and vaguely "authentic". The idea is that it's rural, bluesy, folk music: think Ali Farka Toure, think the "Roots of The Blues" etc. Never mind that the picture on the ground is more complicated or that the influences are varied and cross cultural boundaries. Never mind all that. This is the terrain of the African artist. Their music belies the frame in which they are portrayed.

The first time I saw her, four years ago, it was across the street, at Johnny D's, a small, homely joint that seats maybe a hundred. Back then, she was promoting her second album, Wanita, a dreamy affair firmly in traditional mould. These days though, she can sell out the Somerville Theatre which seat about 1,000 which give you some idea of the attention that has been paid to building up an audience. Nonesuch is the new record label and you know that they are no fools.

Workin'

The rest of the band join them and the evening's groove begins. Rokia is a diplomat's daughter and has lived in the Middle East and the West. She's listened closely to all those other rhythms but finds comfort in her roots, thus we have the balafon (xylophone), the kora, the two n'gonis (lutes)and the calabash and talking drums. Clearly the decision to use traditional malian instruments is a conscious one.

Her voice is not as full as Oumou Sangare - the éminence grise of Malian vocalists; it's lighter and more ethereal. The backup singer overlays and harmonizes very well. They are sisters in harmony.

She's got a young band, a set of young Malian musicians who are enjoying every minute of their time together and are committed to the journey she's taking them on. As a bandleader, she is not the imperious commander type although she has a clear conception of what she wants to achieve. She is more the team player, allowing everyone to shine and produce a zone offense, if there's such a thing.

One surprise though is the new guitarist/bassist Christophe "Disco" Minck, a tall long-haired Belgian so-and-so who lays down the fierce and metronomic break beats and wah-wah effects while jerking like a funky chicken. It adds some flavour to the gumbo they are cooking up on stage. This is akin to the addition of Money Mark's Fender-Rhodes keyboards during Femi Kuti's tour a few years ago promoting the Fight To Win album. There's something about the cross-cultural exchange by having another set of ears in the mix. She's been listening to all sorts of music and it informs her writing on the songs on the new album. It's hypnotic and mellow yet, rendered live, it's propulsive stuff.

Cookin'

During the Wanita tour, she very generously shared her stage with a group of young Malian drummers and rappers. The whole world listens to hip-hop and it was interesting to see the exuberant youth reinterpret the old tunes to a griot backbeat. She welcomed their melodic ideas and rhythmic wordplay then but this sensibility is only occasionally hinted at in her own music. She manages to be sound contemporary while keeping a traditionalist slant to things.

Back home, her biggest competition among the young lions is probably Habib Koite who is a similarly gifted writer. The blind duo, Amadou & Miriam are the folk heroes. Of course the gold standard are artists like Salif Keita, Oumou Sangare and all those great kora players (Toumani Diabate among them).

The new album recorded last year has been getting some buzz in Africa and Europe. Bowmboï won the BBC Album of the Year award and you begin to get an idea of what the judges for that competition were thinking as imperceptibly the band begins cooking. Polyrhythmic innovation quickly ensues, fired on by wah-wah guitar and alternatively some thumping electric baselines.

On the album she enlists the Kronos Quartet on a couple of songs - the effect is to add a classical tinge to the malian and occasional middle-eastern soundscape. Live though, the band gives vent to the interplay between the n'goni and the calabash, her own guitar quietly filling in the space.

For me it's the soul clap factor, once you've got me clapping, your work is done: I'll be your evangelist. She's got me clapping for sure.

As if to prove my point, she starts dancing with her backup singer, with flowing and languid movements. The men get very interested at this, if they weren't already: the two are lithe and sexy. The women in the crowd stay interested because their dancing is not as overtly sexual as for example those female dancers in Femi Kuti or Koffi Olomide's bands; it's tastefully done and no competition. They proceed to reel off five or six joints that are simply perfect, insistently intelligent, long groovy pieces that they explore to the fullest. We are all elated by the end of things.

Steamin'

As she comes out for the encore, she enjoins the crowd in her bookish, impeccably correct and french-accented english, to feel free to stand and join her in moving to her music. "For me, singing onstage was a dream that has come true." Like a good diplomat, she knows how to charm her audience. The Girlfriend and I of course had been nudging each other throughout noting that African audiences would never have sat down through the type of performance that we have been treated to so far. Well this is Massachusetts so we take what we get.

The crescendo builds up in the three encore songs, and this is what is extraordinary about this: the music while clearly akin to Ali Farka Toure blues is nevertheless very danceable. More to the point the groove is trance-like and plainly funky. How do you manage to make funk out of kora and xylophone, pray tell? Now others in the crowd don't need any prodding to join in the soul-claps and the call-and-response that clearly delight both musicians and audience.

I think the space created by the two interlocking n'gonis is a vital part of the mix. Also we are treated to shifting tempos and some sublime changes just like in soukous or old highlife (see King Bruce or E.T. Mensah). Think of it as 5 or 6 in-situ remixes of the songs, radical reinterpretations of a basic sketch. So the dancing gets wilder, the atmosphere gets sweaty and we are all making a beautiful sound. At the concert closes the entire band is showcased and they do justice to it all. We're leave hyped by what we've heard. Come back Rokia... Steaming is the least of it.

Now that I've placed Rokia Traoré in august company for this review asserting that she's channeling the spirit of the Miles Davis Quintet, I should close by commenting on the context in which to place the evolution of her nouveau-funk Malian brew. For Miles Davis, the cooking sessions confirmed his place among the jazz greats and cemented his reputation as a bandleader par excellence. Bop traditionalists still look back on fondly on them as a landmarks. Albums like Kind of Blue and Somethin' Else would soon follow these classic and Miles' experiments would multiply in the ensuing years. Rokia Traoré's new album and especially the live performances in this tour are similar, confirmation of a great talent and a wonderful bandleader, I can't wait for the next album or to see what direction she goes in. You want to be along for the ride.

The critical response to her tour has been suitably estatic (see these various reviews for example). But don't take it from the Times or The Post, down here in the streets of Cambridge, the toli is that Rokia Traoré has arrived. Keep your eye on her.

File under: music, Africa, Mali, Rokia Traoré, youth, concert, review, live, Miles Davis, jazz, virtuosity, toli

Vibing with Abbey Lincoln

A night with the Abbey Lincoln Quintet at the Blue Note, September 4, 2004

So my cousin, Tei, and I were vibing with Abbey Lincoln Saturday night - so blissed out afterwards that the both of us didn't seek out any additional after-midnight New York joints and capped the night with a couple of shwarmas topped with pepper sauce, going out on a high as it were. It was a three part epic:

1. Serendipity

It was a spur of the moment thing, really: heading to the Blue Note in the Village to hear Abbey Lincoln. The long lines at PS-1 - the dance show at the MOMA earlier that night didn't augur well for much fun but when in New York, you have options. It seemed a little late for the US Open so we took the long shot and headed to the East Village. No line at the Blue Note - a good sign. We'd timed it well, arriving just as they were seating the second show. We forked out our $20 for bar seats, ordered our drinks and got ready for some jazz from the living legend.

Now mind you there was a little trepidation: when you start calling someone 'living legend', you are subconsciously wondering just how much longer she'll be living. We saw Nina Simone (Tei's favourite) on her last tour the year before she died and that was prime Diva-in-twilight stuff: raucous and rousing but sadly short. Abbey Lincoln is not that old but she was one of the great jazz voices in the fifties and that says a lot - do the math.

I've seen her twice before at Scullers in Cambridge over the years and have most of her albums. She always puts on a good show. There really should have been a third time but that turned out to be the abortive Valentine's Day date - months before "The Girlfriend" became "The Girlfriend". The first time was simply perfect. The second time was good but you begun to worry - she was forgetting a few lyrics...

She now has a quintet. James Spauling is a welcome addition on saxophone and flute - fiery stuff. Marc Cary lays down the sensitive accompaniments on the piano. Michael Bowie lays down hard bop bass and Jaz Sawyer is the drum wizard. What I like about them is that they aren't overly respectful of her; they learn from her but also challenge her every night.

She comes on to the stage with her trademark porkpie hat (echoes of Lester Young) and starts messing with the beat - a habit she shares with Billie Holiday. She works around the beat, slowing down or picking up the pace as her fancy takes her. She's never on the beat like these metronomic nouveau singers. If overdone it would be jarring, instead her artful manner excites your ear and keeps you alert. By the end she brings you back to where you expect and you're elated.

There's a grit to her voice these days. It's there even when she laughs at, or with, the overawed audience. If it was painful for some to contemplate Lady Day in her late period - with the damage of hard living showing in her voice, Abbey in autumn is a different affair. She has aged gracefully (like Sarah Vaughan) and the timbre of her voice suits the personal and almost political songs she writes. When she began writing the essential soundtrack to the civil rights movement in the 60s, she was pigeon-holed as a 'difficult' artist and her career suffered accordingly. These days though, her blues are comforting; we pretend all those issues have been resolved and are nostalgic for the good old days.

A diva at peace with her legacy, she sings the numerous standards that she wrote for herself and others, including Hey Lordy Mama which she gave to Nina Simone.

Hey Lordy Mama
I Heard You Wasn't Feeling' Good
They're Spreadin' Dirty Rumors
All Around The Neighborhood
They Say You're Mean And Evil
And Don't Know What To Do
That's The Reason That He's Gone
And Left You Black And Blue
Hey Yeah
Tell Me What You Gonna Do Now

Looking back, it is clear that she and other artists 'made' joints like the Blue Note and the Village Vanguard famous, not to mention all of these prestigious record labels they spawned. It is clear that the club owners and audiences owe her the reverence that we see. At the same time, places like the Blue Note were the proving grounds for jazz musicians - the places that made her the artist she is. And so there is this fondness flowing in both directions and a sense of playfulness and looseness with the band. But there is also a sense of electricity because she feels the need to be at her best at the Blue Note, she and the band have put on their game face.

2. The Let-down

After an hour though, the hinges start coming off.

First she forgets a lyric, looks around furtively and asks the pianist to remind her where she was. She recovers quickly though. For the next song, the band begins to build a furious groove. She begins to join in, a little tentative at first, but then says out loud: "That didn't work!" and calls for another song.

Two songs later she seems to be getting back into it but something isn't quite right, she isn't feeling it like the rest of us. And so:

"Thank you folks. I'm tired."

And she walks off the stage.

And so that was that: the temperamental diva syndrome again. Still, it was a good hour of solid if not great jazz by someone we love.

3. Redemption and Ecstasy

Or so we thought...

Ten minutes later, who should come up to the bar and sit next to us but Miss Abbey Lincoln. And that's when the vibing began as we drank and chatted for the next hour (cognac for her). With hindsight I think we were a great combination of drinking partners. I was the music lover who would pose obscure questions trying to show I had taste and knew the musicians' musicians. Tei was his usual argumentative self, prodding, teasing and flirting without commitment - crucially he made it clear upfront that Nina Simone was his thing so there was no question of adulation - something stars get too much of anyway.

Now let me tell you a few things about our close friend, Abbey Lincoln.

• She was the 10th of 12 children.
• Her father midwived the last 6 children at home
• Her "real name is Anna Marie" (Woodridge). Abbey Lincoln is a stage name.
• She was raised on a farm in Michigan. They "didn't have much growing up.. It was a hard life" (read: the family was dirt poor).
• Her parents didn't get on towards the end. "Maybe they shouldn't have married"

And then there was the fierce discussion of marriage and human relationships.

• "A man should have his own house."
• "So should a woman."
• She's not a big fan of marriage.

  "We don't need marriage."

• She didn't think she'd take any more lovers.

  "I don't need the jealousy... Why should I be worrying about you? asking 'Where have you been? I want you to do this or do that'... Have your own place! You'll be better off."

And then there was the musical discussion:

• I teased her that the last time I saw her, she was talking down Lena Horne. She bristled that Lena Horne was a shining star on the stage and that she would never speak ill of her. Shirley Horn on the other hand...
• Nina Simone didn't look like a pin-up but was an outsized talent and good friend.
• The Sarah Vaughan and Clifford Brown album was indeed a vocal milestone, like I alluded to earlier. However she thought Abbey Is Blue was better

  "And it had the same musicians!"

• Clifford Brown died too young and Max Roach (her first husband) with whom Cliffie made legendary albums was completely devastated by the loss of his friend
• Mal Waldron, Billie Holiday's accompanist, was one of the most sensitive men she knew. And she treasured the time they spent together and the musical lessons learned
• Duke Ellington's encouragment was a source of strength for her.
• Ben Webster played the most lyrical saxophone although she dug Pres more (Lester Young). Not to mention that Pres was the sharper dresser and wore the same hat as her
• "I wasn't a peer of some of these guys [Duke, Ella, Sassy, Count Basie], but I knew them, played with them and carry their legacy... We made a joyful sound you know"
• She identified a Stan Getz tune playing on the club sound system after barely 2 bars. "Stan Getz was a true friend. We were that close..." She later added, "We didn't screw you know... that was a good thing - a pure friendship"

We talked of the hard times for jazz artists and black artists in general and those who were forced to leave the US: Bud Powell, Sidney Bechet, Ben Webster, Dexter Gordon, Josephine Baker, Nina Simone.

"And Abbey Lincoln, you know.

It was hard. My patrons were French. They're the only ones who ask you 'What do you feel like doing this time, Abbey?'"

On aging, and seeing her friends pass away one after the other:

"I don't want to be the last one... It's getting lonely, you know."

It turns out that the reason she cut the set short was that it had been too cold. They hadn't turned the air conditionning off a half hour before she came on and so she was uncomfortable and couldn't give it her all.

We also saw the perils of celebrity: the star-struck fans coming up periodically, the guys wanting advice on how to get a record deal and clasping cameraphones for the obligatory photo, the tourist: "We came all the way from France to see you. We love you Abbey. Je t'aime".

The woman from Boston who wrote a song after hearing her in Boston three years ago and who insisted on singing her vapid tune for three unbearably long minutes. Not to mention the obsequious and sycophantic club owners next to her trying to pump her up so that she would return the next night. "You're the greatest. Everything you do is success and pleasure enough. You're so wonderful". I guess the reason she liked us was that we weren't yes-men stroking her ego.

She wanted to talk about how new artists were being led astray, especially this one, Alexis something-or-other, who had been around her house and whose manager was this dirty old man. It took me almost an hour to figure out that she meant Alicia Keys.

"Oh yes, Alicia Keys. With that old man! her manager or something... He's a dinosaur! Why's he making her sing about A Woman's Worth. What does she know about struggle? When has she ever experienced loss? She's so pretty you know. Beautiful even. That man is ruining her. Let her sing what she knows".

Alicia are you listening?

But then she concluded by leaning forward conspiratorially and said "I think she (Alicia) did her hair in braids after meeting me".

Anyway, we had our drinks and got 'drunk as a skunk' over the hour, having ourselves a good old time. As we left, she hugged both of us tightly and whispered:

"Go give it to them. Go kick 'em in the ass. You guys. Really... Be strong, and go give it to them... Kick 'em in the ass"

With pleasure, Abbey. With pleasure.

File under: jazz, music, concert, review, live, Abbey Lincoln, vocals, singers, greats, cool, New York, legend, appreciation, obsession, toli

Amel Larrieux Breaking Through

All roads to good music seem to run through Philadelphia these days. This summer has seen The Roots give us The Tipping Point - virtuosic performances and the strongest album of the year (all genres), Jill Scott just dropped Beautifully Human - I'm taking a little time to fully digest that one but from my first few listens it feels like a blanket of Maze featuring Frankie Beverly and Al Green before he became a Reverend. Of late too, Bilal's album from a couple of years ago has been making a strong comeback into the playlist.

Last year's best albums, Les Nubians' One Step Forward and Roy Hargrove's The RH Factor were both soaked in Phillydom. Strictly speaking Amel Larrieux is a New Yorker but I'll argue that she does have a strong Philly connection and, in any case, her sensibility is at one with all the aforementioned artists with whom she has collaborated and toured with.

Last Thursday, Amel gave what Art Blakey used to call a "cooking session" at the Regattabar - the kind that gets your juices flowing or, to mix my metaphors, a shot across the bow, as it were. I had to travel the next day so couldn't get a repeat performance, but "The Girlfriend" reports that Friday's show was indeed all that I knew it would be and even more as word of mouth had done its duty.

It isn't often that you want to fork out your own money for two concerts in a row from the same artist. That is the measure of an inspired act, or put another way, of a cult artist, of a musician's musician like Prince. Amel Larrieux is someone who makes you want to join the street team and start handing out leaflets and posters to anyone you meet. That, I think, is a tribute to the kind of scary talent she displayed and the devastating empathy of her rhythm section.

Her first public outing in the mid-nineties was with Mantronix's Bryce Wilson on Groove Theory, a cool collaboration borne of a superb demo and the ensuing serendipity. There was a summer where "Tell Me" was played in all the clubs and house parties I attended (similarly to the way Zhane's Hey Mr DJ took off). I suspect that she got a little frustrated with the sandbox that record companies were trying to place her in and truth be told, Bryce tended towards the metronomic. Amel's vision is much wider and she's one who wants full control of the direction of her art; she has to write her own songs, do her own arrangments and put her personal stamp on the whole package.

Infinite Possibilities (2000) was her solo debut, a soulful and low-key album (think Sade meets Bjork) that probably got lost in the mix for more earthy and commercial R&B of the time. Again that's the problem: she isn't just R&B, she's more like soul by way of jazz, folk, rock and classical music. Her musical influences are diverse and her material resists easy categorization. "Get Up" was the big club hit but it was the more personal songs I kept returning to like Sweet Misery and especially the title track. I think Infinite Possiblilities sold a fair amount but nothing near what Mary J Blige, India Arie or Macy Gray sold, and she is far more talented than any of those singers. For that reason, Sony seemed to want to cut their losses. Another example of how record companies don't actually serve the artists they claim to represent and serve.

Last year she changed her record label and the label, Bliss Life, is doing a smart thing in promoting the new album, Bravebird. They recognize that she's an outsized talent who needs nurturing and they are making sure that she gets the grooming by going out on tour. That's why she's playing in the small jazz club scene. The folks who normally come out in support of artists like Cassandra Wilson will immediately see the point and start spreading the word from the grassroots. Some might see it as a shame that she isn't filling arenas, but I see it differently: the hits will undoubtedly come, spending the time to garner the "live" reputation will mean serious dollars long after Britney Spears is forgotten. Again think of Maze who never had a number one in the pop charts but will fill out the biggest theatres in DC for weeks on end.

On to the show... It was a small and intimate audience and felt like a jam session with friends and family. It was also one of the most exciting concerts I've attended all year (second only to Prince, but then who can top Prince?). The band came out and locked into a groove immediately, playing a few of her first hits. Simple arrangements: funky hip-hop drum, some Bill Evans stylings on the grand piano and a Stanley Clarke bass. After 15 or so minutes she sidled up quietly, hit the first note and never looked back. Her new songs are hypnotic and ethereal (made me regret not having snapped it up when it came out) and she re-imagined the songs from her first two albums. The live renderings give a full picture of Amel Larrieux's varied world.

Her voice is not an earthy voice, it's slight and higher-pitched, perhaps reaching towards the Minnie Riperton range. It's finely controlled and she has great technique; she wouldn't be out of place in a Jazz Academy. But the music is soul, she's just a soul singer. Her vocal approach reminds me of Abbey Lincoln, Rachelle Ferrelle when she lets her hair down, Betty Carter, and even Sarah Vaughn - yes I mean it. She swoops, scats and takes you on excursions. The song, as you remember it from the album, is only a prelude to an extended jam that deconstructs the beat ala Sun Ra. She jokingly recalled that a critic had called her "The Queen of Long Endings" but she revelled in it. And I appreciated it, I went along with her. That's what a live show should be like: we don't want the studio vinyl or just the radio-friendly jam.

And the band. What a band. Three guys who listen closely to her and each other: the essence of a jazz, hip-hop, funk, soulful, classical, basically-nasty rhythm section. Think The Roots meet the Ahmad Jamal Trio by way of Earth Wind and Fire and Debussy. They are just in a zone right now; no fat, no preservatives and just great empathy bringing out the best in her.

On the basis of last night, even Jill Scott, Angie Stone and Erykah Badu aren't quite cutting it. And as for the Alicia Keys or India Aries out there, well they're not even on the same planet as Amel Larrieux. Buy her album tomorrow or, better yet, run to see her live, she's that good.

[A year later]

Sunday Night with Amel Larrieux

File under: music, soul, jazz, concert, live, review, cool, fun, appreciation, enthusiasm, Philadelphia, New York, Amel Larrieux, Philly, The Roots, virtuosity, toli

Me'Shell Live in Montreux

Here's are links to the entire 99 minute concert by Me'Shell NdegeOcello at the Montreux Jazz festival with her latest project: the Spirit Sextet. This time she goes jazzy and the band is very loose. She's been going through a very prolific phase and recorded this project at the same time that she delivered Comfort Woman which was rather galactic soul. Her main problem is that her record company don't know what to do with her and got caught up with the 'straight or gay' issue rather than the realizing that all that is a sideshow: like Prince, she's really just all about the music. What an amazing bassist.

Note: the older Realplayer link to the concert that seems to have disappeared

File under: bass, concert, cool, funk, jazz, live, MeShell NdegeOcello, music, meshell, NdegeOcello, soul, video, toli