February 3, 2009

I thought I would spend some time on my list today, because a few of my choices may require some explanation. Those of you who know me know that I am multi-faceted, but wouldn't go so far as to peg me for Neil Diamond champion. Besides his star-making appearance in Saving Silverman (an over-looked turd of a gem of a flick), Neil Leslie Diamond was a main perveyor of heartless crap, second only in the music department to Barry Manilow & Kenny G & Michael Bolton, all tied in a trifecta of exemplary affluence.


After the turn of the century, Mr. Diamond must have taken a long, hard look at his life; and through his starlit eyes and cocaine-crusted ears, he saw a heard a legacy of failure. Approaching 70, Neil did the only thing a scared dinosaur would do - he looked around for a helping hand to grab onto, one that would pull him out of the schmaltz that kept his career suffocating like quick-sand.

Who was up to the task? Who could possibly resurrect the career of an aging musical icon? Beared, fawn-eyed, and slovenly, Rock Rubin emerged as the Jesus of American Pop. He played Lazarus with Johnny Cash and Nusrat Fateh Ali-Khan, made the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Slipknot respectable acts, and introduced the world to hip-hop. Rick Rubin has made a career of breathing new life into a dead horse, no matter how thirsty or badly beaten it may be. His secret is "just listening," he would say. What was the plan to make a honest man out of Neil Diamond, then? Rick Rubin listened, and made Neil Diamond listen to himself.




So, without further adeu - The List:

1. Neil Diamond's last two albums (12 Songs: Rick Rubin made Neil Diamond forget the last forty years of his career, pick up a pen and paper, sit down with a guitar, and write a fucking song. Without the star-wipes and bull-shit strings behind him, Mr. Diamond got scared. Apparently, he also got sad, almost excogitative. The result is an album of regrets and fears, happiness and approbation by a minstrel on his last leg, but at the top of his game.

The second track, "Hell Yeah", sums up the spirit of 12 Songs quite well: "He found the life that he was after...And made it fit/Hell yeah, he did!" With a little help along the way from Mike Campbell & Benmont Trench (both on loan from orthodox Rubinite Tom Petty) and Billy Preston (his last studio work before his death in 2006-from kidney disease, not his contact with Diamond), Mr. Diamond manages a near-flawless album of love songs.

The lyrics may occasionally suffer from cliches, but hey - it's Neil-fucking-Diamond we're talkig about here, not Leonard Cohen. And he still manages to work magic! The first seven tracks are one-after-the-other good. "Captain of A Shipwreck" and "I'm on to You" are stand-out tracks. Rubin's production coerces so much depth from Diamond's talent that it's easy to say this wouldn't be half as good if he had not been involved. And that's probably true.


All the tricks are here: that piano and it's accompany organ, which both brought Johnny Cash back from the grave them sent him to it eight years later, are back with a vengeance; and under the hand of Billy Preston, the songs seem more like AA meetings at a Southern Baptist church than a geezer with bad hair pulling his pud again. The guitars are bright, but unaffected, sounding organic instead of synthetic. And let's not forget the key ingredient: Neil Diamond's voice. Will Farrel was right in making fun of the smutty bravado that lies within Diamond's instrument, but on 12 Songs that smut is transformed into earnesty. We're not coming to America on a sparkling golden ship, mast fashioned out of candy, piloted by Captain Kangaroo. No. The ship has gone down, and its captain with it, and Diamond couldn't be prouder to be first mate.



12 Songs is a great album, an honest album and anyone would do themselves a favor to give it a listen. Diamond would reprise the formula once more for 2008's Home Before Dark. I've not listened to all of it just yet, but from what I've heard, if Diamond keeps this up, he just may earn some respect yet.)





2. Christy Campbell (sorry sweety, but you're still toward the top)



3. Marc Ribot's Ceramic Dog (Part Intellectuals: For those of you not in the know, Marc Ribot is the third most influential guitar player of the last thirty-five years. Ry Cooder is number two and Jeff Beck is number one, by the way. He's given Tom Waits a second career and played the blues with T-Bone Burnett. I honestly didn't know about him until I recognized his name in The Blues, a documentary produced by Martin Scorcese. In the first segment, Ribot is featured playing a ballistic arrangement of Blind Lemon Jefferson's "Black Snake Moan". Putting two and two together, I tracked down more information on Tom Wait's guitar player and found his vocabulary to be not only extensive, but wildly exciting. He's had avant-jazz projects with John Zorn, punk projects with Shrek, and even industrial projects with Foetus. Party Intellectuals is another run-around with his "first rock and roll band" from way back in the day (it is actually the only testament of the group's existence on tape).

The whole thing starts off aptly with a rocking reading of "Break On Through". If there's one way to impress people, or stymie yourself, at parties, it's lecturing about the Doors: 'Aren't you so learned, you've listened to "Waiting For the Sun".' The tempo drops from time to time, particularly toward the end, but when the band is jiving at full speed, there's little else out there today that can excite so well. "Digital Handshake" is probably the highlight of the whole album. An instrumental track built around the most holy of rock equations 'the riff', the music is a jackhammer pounding one's head in with equal doses of electronica and heavy metal. If Pete Townsend were thirty-five years younger and a fan of 23 Skidoo (and not a cermudgeon), "Digital Handshake" is probably something he would turn out. That being said, the track is classic Ribot. His style transists between classicist rock composer to bat-shit craziness without losing any momentum or the listener's attention.

Which isn't to say Party Intellectuals is too heady. There are some great pop songs here, too. "Todo el Mundo es Kitsch" is a sly ode to the summer vacation; "For Melena" is a great reflection on father-hood; and the title track busts a riff-heavy commentary on hipster guests who can't take a hint. The music is never not fun. Ribot even brings the funk with the bass bitch-slap that is "Pinch": "I've got to have it/So give it to me/(Fuego)/Yo necissito". This is definitely a party album, one which is to be listened to and then spun for everyone's enjoyment. As interesting as it is a kick in the ass.)




4. Hamburgers

5. Superfun Ya Ya Rocketship (Going tomorrow evening to see him again in Springfield, IL. 1320 South Eleventh Street. No doubt, he is going to be a riot. Hopefully the bands before him can build him up well instead of, 'Holy crap, when is this going to be over.')

6. Omar Rodriguez-Lopez (Old Money: Not much to say about this album except it's really damn good. Fans of the Mars Volta will not be disappointed, just slightly confused. *Hint: it's an instrumental album.*)





7. The price of gas (Hey, it's $1.77 in Normal, IL. Not too bad.)


8. Alejandro Escovedo (Real Animal: When I'm finished listening to this album, I'll give a better review. So far, so good.)





9. Kurt Vonnegut (Player Piano: Also, not finished with this venture. So far, so good.)


10. NyQuil (I've got a cold, so fuck off.)




I think I'll close out tonight with Bob Dylan. Blood on the Tracks sounds like a good idea. "Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts". Yeah.