Stephen Grimstead, Editor
Guided By Voices Mag Earwhig! (Matador)
There's
something chaotic (in a mathematical sense) about Guided By Voices, such
that their records, unlike those by other bands, have properties that seem
to shirk fundamental physical laws. If you ask yourself what the best record
by band X is (where X = some random non-GBV band), you will arrive at a
definite album; call it Y. For example: If X = the Pixies, then Y = Surfer
Rosa. Simple enough, and true for all non-GBV values of X.
If, however, it is allowed that X = GBV, Y becomes more complicated -- and more -- it becomes thoroughly relative to time. In cases where X = GBV, Y = GBV's last album; not their latest one, but the last one before the current one. In other words, their best record is never their most recent, but always their next to most recent. So, when Alien Lanes was released in 1995, 1994's Bee Thousand became their best album; with the release of last year's Under The Bushes Under The Stars, Alien Lanes did, and so on. (NOTE: For some reason, yet unexplained, solo projects play no role in the GBV effect.)
The reason behind this unusual property, I think, is that GBV records simply take longer to sink in; not to sink into your head or into your taste -- since this should not be taken merely as a psychological or aesthetic theory -- but into the fabric of the world itself. They do not become fully material until well after their appearance. But eventually, the idiosyncratic lyrics and the minimal but powerful guitar crescendos fully arrive. And so, each record equals Y in its own due time.
I only bring this up because I'm a little worried that Mag Earwhig! might never become Y. Of course, it didn't seem like Under The Bushes Under The Stars would either, while a fresh listen reveals that it has.
Earwhig, on the other hand, may be headed for entropy. It features frontman Robert Pollard with (at least) two different bands: the usual suspects, Tobin Sprout and brother Jim Pollard, and Cleveland glam rockers Cobra Verde. And while there are some solid songs here -- "The Colossus Crawls West" and "Not Behind The Fighter Jet," to name two of the eight or nine keepers to be found among the 21 tracks -- the disc lacks the twisted-rock-opera cohesiveness of earlier records, even as the liner notes promise just that.
Furthermore, while Cobra Verde's slashing guitars bring Pollard closer than ever to the arena-rock sound he's always wanted, the riffs often ring familiar, as though they were lifted from earlier GBV records -- often without the cathartic hook changes that were really the best part. Even the lyrics (both the imagery and the phrasing) lead to the suspicion that a lot of the songs here, if examined, would prove to be clones of previous efforts. For GBV fanatics, of course, this will pose no problem.
But cosmologically speaking, the problems could not be more serious. What if Mag Earwhig! ultimately turns out to violate the GBV effect (and it is only a few weeks old; comprehensive data-gathering will take at least six months)? Will the band join the universe of all other bands for which Y has a discrete solution? If so, what will that solution be?
Clearly, more research is needed.
-- Jim Hanas
Abbey LincolnWho Used To Dance (Verve)
One of the most highly individualistic voices in jazz, Abbey Lincoln has an uncanny gift for delivering powerful, commanding vocal lines. Her range isn't great, her intonation and delivery is often slow and deliberate, but Lincoln has an utterly stunning ability to mesmerize with each and every syllable. Since signing with Verve in 1989, she has produced some of the best material of her 45-year career. Who Used To Dance is another brilliant offering from the inimitable Ms. Lincoln.
Backed by a working trio of pianist Marc Cary, bassist Michael Bowie, and drummer Aaron Walker, Lincoln is also joined by a stellar group of alto saxophonists on several cuts, including Steve Coleman, Oliver Lake, and Frank Morgan. On the title tune -- a Lincoln original lamenting a lost idyllic past -- percussion is provided by tap dancer Savion Glover. Lincoln melts you with several gorgeous ballads, including "Love Has Gone Away" with Coleman on alto, as well as "Love Lament" and "When Autumn Sings" with Frank Morgan. "Love What You Doin'" gently swings, and features some exquisite horn work from Coleman and Lake. And -- get this -- her band provides some Coltrane-influenced accompaniment to Lincoln's remarkable vocal version of Dylan's "Mr. Tambourine Man."
This is an amazing collection of tunes, each begging to be individually savored and relished. Abbey Lincoln is one of the great jazz vocalists, a unique and powerful artist who knows no equal. Who Used To Dance finds her in the prime of her career, and comes very highly recommended.
-- Gene Hyde