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HOOTIE & THE BLOWFISH
Musical Chairs
IMAGINE FOR JUST one minute that the last decade never happened. Now, recall some of the great guitar bands you were listening to circa '85-'88: R.E.M., Windbreakers, Green On Red, Dreams So Real, Zeitgeist/Reivers, Sidewinders.... Years before angst, imagined parental abuse and a crummy day serving up lattes translated into songwriting fodder for goobers with no discernible vocal skills, America was producing a dearth of groups that actually grasped the rock 'n' roll tunesmith's imperative: melodic verse, harmony-strewn chorus, and a backbeat you definitely can't lose. That's the tradition Hootie slots into, and you owe it to yourself to absorb this album with ears untainted by the bleating anti-Hooties who prefer playing reactionary games to actually listening to music. Among the record's many highlights: "Home Again," with its gentle melody borrowed from "Leaving On A Jet Plane"; "I Will Wait," an uplifting look at secrets, lies, and how we learn to reaffirm fidelity, all set against an amazingly compelling jangly guitar/surging organ arrangement; and "Desert Mountain Showdown," a slice of twangy goodtime with fiddle, dobro and mandolin, pure Sweetheart of the Rodeo stuff at that. Personally, I think I "got it" while watching Hootie on TV at this year's Farm Aid. They'd turned their "Let Her Cry" chestnut into the most soulful gospel anthem I'd heard in ages, and it made me feel great. Try humming along to the seething rage of, say, Korn or The Deftones; it can't be done. Hootie, then, is for folks who take a quiet, profound joy in being alive. --Fred Mills
GATO BARBIERI
Last Tango In Paris
LAST TANGO IN Paris is the only X-rated movie to star a major player (Marlon Brando), a feat of bravery not equaled since the flick surfaced in 1972. Wisely, director Bernardo Bertolucci hired tenor saxophonist Barbieri to supply a sultry, tango-heavy soundtrack. Barbieri has spent the ensuing decades vacillating between the yuppie-jazz goo of Ruby and the vicious blowing found on Latin America: Chapter One, the latter definitely one of the finest jazz/world music albums ever recorded. When Barbieri applies his superlungs to the sax, the mix of intensity and Argentine romanticism aims at that point just a few inches below the belt buckle--making him the perfect musical accompanist for a wonderfully kinky movie where the application of butter far surpasses anything the basic four food groups offer. If you're looking for music to encourage this weekend's date to drop their laundry after a few bottles of fruit du vin, this is as good as you'll find. If this stuff doesn't get you laid, it wasn't meant to happen. --Dave McElfresh
THE LONDON PHILARMONIC
Kashmir: Symphonic Led Zeppelin (1997)
A FRIEND ONCE told me a story about his high-school basketball days. Each member of the team could bring in music to play during the warm-up period before the game. The allotted time was around 15 minutes. Other guys brought in metal, rap, the obvious stuff. My friend had other ideas: He made a tape of Led Zeppelin's "The Lemon Song" twice repeating. Soon after, the team lost their musical privilege. So it's sad to say that this collection of reworked stuff from the Zeppelin oeuvre doesn't include one of the best songs to ever couple citrus and hand-jobs. That said, this CD is still worth checking out if for no other reason than it's 100-percent puff daddy free. Plus, the songs were performed by the London Philharmonic! To be honest, I did have some reservations about making this purchase. In fact, I waited until I discovered it buried in a used bin for five bucks. However, if I had known how truly great this little piece of plastic was, I surely would have rolled my spare change and paid full price. The music is outstanding, the highlight being the reworking of "Kashmir" into a modern classical piece complete with Middle-Eastern accents, as well as a separate theme interwoven between the rising and falling rhythm that so many fans have nodded their heads to during bong hits. Buy it, bring it home, and flick the black light on and off while saying a little prayer for John Bonham's soul. --Michael Brooks |
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