So, while the author does not really push the fact that Angelo Moore tends towards hyperbole and outright fantasy, I do love the idea of a Fishbone, Living Colour, Bad Brains triple bill.
Like he says...help make it happen.
And now, one album each:
Dream Theater side projects = ok to pretty good
Dream theater = fair to muddling (and thats being kind).
I caught Meshell for the fourth time last week (and the first at the Independent, a venue where I last was to see Tack>>Head and saw N'Dea Davenport and Kudu back when it was called The Justice League).
As with all the other times, she surprises, and she thrills. The more I see her, the more in awe I am of how much the woman is capable of, and sad that most of the record public doesn't know that. She seems to be following her muse into ever more varied territory, and following a pattern of not having a pattern. Her most visible material has been deeply rooted in funk and soul and hip-hop, but her capacity to morph, absorb and transform everything she touches into something inherently Meshellesque is something to behold. Case in point, her show this time around was almost completely new material from her Article 3 EP, some as-yet unreleased material, a token dip into her own back catalog with the extended take of Free My Heart, and a Joy Division cover that far surpassed the original.
Yes, Meshell Ndegeocello did a Joy Division tune. And did it damn well.
If I had to describe this show, it was Meshell on a serious Post-Punk tip. But she was not just aping stylistic conventions as much as absorbed the general aesthetic and married it to a melodicism and a pastiche of her other musical faces into something that would not be out of place on tour with Bloc Party or Davis Sylvian or Seal.
Breathtaking.
Her band, as with all her bands, was top notch. The only name I was familiar with was her keyboardist Jason Lindner, whose own jazzier solo work is worth seeking out on its own merits. Bassist Mark Kelly (no relation to Marillion keyboardist of the same name that I can tell) was a monster, and his interlocking work with Meshell was a bass-lovers utopia. Meshell has the same bad habit as Prince and Steve Coleman, in that she continues to always have a topline monster in the drum throne. She went from Gene lake (Screaming Headless Torsos, Steve Coleman), to Chris Dave (Pat Metheny, Mint Condition) and now one Charles Haynes, who can pummel, prod and pull the beat in all manner of directions.
he song is great, the video is enjoyably cringe-worthy. Its so low-budget, one wonders if even the set and wardrobe designers of Sylvester McCoy-era Dr. Who don't get a laugh.
Initial Wisdom
2002 Palmetto
I picked this up from a cutout bin for 4.95, and rarely listened to it for a long while. Tonight though, it is a very good listen indeed. I think I finally understand why people dig Bill Stewart's drumming, and Adam Rogers has not sounded this good since his days with Lost Tribe. Ravi Coltrane continues tio impress me, and he does a solid job falling into the mix here. Colley himself has a very dry but full sound, and he does the task of anchorman and leader with an eye towards building a cohesive sound.
This is a tidy, tasty, collection of good tracks (his originals are decent, and his covers of cuts by Miles and Ornette are admirable). It's not groundbreaking, but it is inherently listenable without lacking bite.
He has yet to emit a note that is better than the equivalent to the love child of a spent Bowie and moribund Alice Cooper, fresh out of a failed bout at Betty Ford and punch drunk from a beating in a Vegas back alley by over the hill chorus girls.
A music blog in Poland largely interested with the music scene in Portugal. I have nothing to say beyond the fact that it is interesting, and so I take a small bow...
Here are three Portuguese artists worth hearing:
My previous post said that Scott Stapp was a moron, but you have to be monolithically stupid to waste half a million on the wasted rags and gaudy garbage remnants on the self-proclaimed King of Pop's past career. His current one is of course, being a careening PR disaster in a drunken tailspin.
An inflated auction of junk.
