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(01/30/02 5:00am)
The Great Divide\nWillie Nelson\nLost highway\nIn the Willie Nelson tradition, The Great Divide is an album filled to the brim with duets with famous stars. The marketing move is probably more than a little bit influenced by Carlos Santana's placid and gigantic-selling Supernatural (see the two songs written by and performed with Matchbox 20's Rob Thomas), but this is well-worn territory for the 68-year-old singer-songwriter. \nKid Rock appears on "Last Stand In Open Country" sounding more like a cross between Axl Rose and John Mellancamp than the rebel yeller we've come to know. His voice is awkward, it ruins a fine number and it taints Nelson's best vocal on the album. Then there are songs like "Medocino County Line" (with Lee Ann Womack) and "Don't Fade Away" (with Brian McKnight), that are exactly the type of overly-lush Nashville productions that Nelson fought against in the early part of his career. These schmaltzy sentiments are the hallmarks of Nelson's guests and are found here in full, nauseating force. \nThere really is no artistic reason why Nelson should get Rob Thomas to write road-weary tunes for him, even though Nelson is the king of dejected road warriors. Thomas writes like a man who has never tasted failure or rejection, and Nelson doesn't sound convincing when he sings Thomas' lyrics. \nThe one great moment on The Great Divide is the Nelson-penned title track. It is recorded like a live jazz record where the sound is so sparse that you can almost picture the dimensions of the room it was recorded in and where everyone was standing. The hollow drum rolls and the whining fiddle riffs add faith to Nelson's gloomy, Spanish guitar playing and his agoraphobic tale of lost love.\nFor too long, Nelson has been pandering to the lowest common denominator of his fan base. His best records, and not coincidentally, his best-selling records were brutally honest confessions about the duality of the country outlaw spirit. Like Rod Stewart and Buddy Guy, Willie Nelson became a showman a long time ago, and we are left with shattered hopes of what they could have been.\n
(01/23/02 5:00am)
Greg Kot is one of the today's leading critics covering rock and roll. He's has been the pop music critic at the Chicago Tribune since 1990. Together with his counterpart from the Chicago Sun-Times, Jim DeRogatis, he has created "the world's only rock 'n' roll talk show," "Sound Opinions" on Chicago's WXRT-FM. Like Siskel and Ebert, the two argue playfully about the musical issues of the day and of the past with eloquent passion for the art they have turned over their lives to.\nGreg Kot sat down with the IDS Weekend last Friday to discuss his craft, some of the issues in today's music, as well as the role of the critic in this money-driven, pop music world.\nQ: What sorts of bands or writers made you first want to write about rock and roll?\nA: I think it really started with the writers, reading other writers got me excited about rock and roll and writing, the two things I love best in life. I think reading Greil Marcus' book "Mystery Train" was a real eye opener to me, in terms of what could be said in a piece of rock criticism and how writing about rock could be a springboard to writing about just about anything you wanted. You could bring literature and film, theater and performance art and even your own life experience into that review and make it something sort of beyond a review about a piece of music, but the music itself was the inspiration for the writing. That's what I really like, I like the fact that the music could inspire that sort of writing. \nQ: It seems that the only way to find out about good music these days is by reading the critics; is that the way it's always been?\nA: To me it has. If anything, it's gotten worse. It's gotten narrower and narrower in terms of the way people find out about music. The written word, unfortunately, doesn't have the same pull as MTV or a radio station does, but if someone is really serious about music, I find that they read a lot about music and that's how they find out about stuff. Before I became a rock critic, 75 percent of my record collection was based on what somebody wrote before I had even heard a note of that music, and I've got a pretty good record collection thanks to a bunch of critics.\nQ: In what ways do you think critics influence the recording industry?\nA: Boy, I would say zero. Occasionally, if there is a mass critical consensus on an artist you can see the ripples and the big machine takes over and pulls that to the next level. \nQ: What kind of influence do they have on artists?\nA: Bob Mould was in Chicago on a three-night stand and I reviewed the first show, which was a pretty favorable review. But I had a few problems with it, and I wrote this in the review. I saw him about two months later and he was talking to a bunch of other critics who I think were asking him the same question, and he said, "One time this critic in Chicago wrote this and I was really mad, but then I realized that he was right and I changed my show." He turned around and I was sitting right there and he said, "That was you in fact." It was a validation moment. Stephen Stills of all people, once called me and said, "You wrote that we were all out of sorts and we looked distracted and shouldn't have been on stage. We were all really mad about that, but I got to tell you man we were distracted and we shouldn't have been on stage." So once in a while it will come back to you. These guys read your stuff, but a vast majority of the time though the artists just dismiss them. They just go, "Oh, that fucker he's just jealous," that kind of thing. \n Q: You've wrote a lot about Wilco recently. What makes them such an important band?\nA: I heard some people call them the American Radiohead, and I don't think that's too far off base. I think they're a band, no matter how many records they sell, that other bands have to pay attention to them because they are, artistically, setting the bar as high as anyone right now. They are one of the most important bands of our time because: a) They are a real band with real roots, and b) Because they're never satisfied, they keep pushing themselves. I'd have to say, every album they've made is better than the previous record. I can't tell you how few bands I can say that about. That is almost unheard of. Bands make one or two great records in their lifetime and then the rest of the time they're chasing their tail trying to figure out how to do that again or if they are successful they try to do the same thing again. They'd be an amazing band in any era. \nQ: Can a white critic in his 50s or 60s really relate to hip-hop?\nA: Hip-hop was a huge dividing line for a lot of critics. A lot of critics didn't get it, they said so and they should have stopped writing then. Techno or electronic music becomes the next big wave of the '90s, and a lot of them didn't get that. Like, "What's a -- I'll never be caught dead at a rave!" The big thing is not your age but your level of curiosity or interest. I'm a big believer in that you don't have to be of the culture, you don't have to be a fan. The whole reason for my existence is to not be a part of something you're writing about but to stand outside of it and process it and make sense of it and bring that information to other people who are not of that environment or of that culture and make them understand it. \nQ: Jim DeRogatis once asked Lester Bangs, "What makes your opinion better than any other person off the street?" \nA: I think a critic's opinion is overrated. I think opinions are overrated, everyone's got one. My big thing is I want to be useful to my readers. If my opinion is all I rely on, then I'm a pretty lousy critic. I think the most important thing a critic can do is to explain the music to the people he's writing for. Explain it in a way that will let the person make up their own mind as to whether or not they'd like that music or not. Not too many critics write about how the music sounds. You don't get a real sense of the music from a lot of criticism because it's all about this guy's opinion. No matter how many times I say, "Dave Matthews sucks," 4 million fans are going to say, "no, you suck!" I'm not really convincing anyone with that, maybe I'm just making myself feel better, but that's a pretty piss-poor reason to be writing. This whole opinion thing is just an argument, that's all it is and nothing more.
(01/09/02 5:00am)
GHV2\nMadonna\nMaverick/Warner Bros.\nMadonna's GHV2 or Greatest Hits Volume 2, speaks for itself. After summing up her '80s career so well with The Immaculate Collection in 1990, a decade later GHV2 sums up the her career in '90s just as accurately. Whereas The Immaculate Collection is a bit of a shallow ride through '80s pop music at its best, GHV2 shows the remarkable growth of Madonna as an artist and a person. \nAfter listening to Revolver, it is very difficult to go back and really enjoy "I Want To Hold Your Hand." The same situation comes up with Madonna. After listening to "Drowned World/Substitute for Love" or "Frozen," can you really go back to "Holiday" for anything more than nostalgia?\nMadonna in the '80s was a particular moment in time, much like early Beatles; their later craft was what defined them as great, timeless artists. We grew with them and no matter how much we would like to get it back, it just can't happen.\nGHV2 comes off a little shaky at first because of its abandonment of a chronological order. Instead, it tries to prevent a feel. Whether or not the mixed order succeeds is really pointless, the disc doesn't seem too shifty at all. Madonna did become a bit of an album artist in the '90s, but often the albums weren't as artistically successful as the singles. \nIt is nice to hear the smart and sensual singles "Deeper and Deeper" and "Erotica" from the ill-conceived Erotica (1992) album without the rest of that disc weighing them down. The guilty pleasure\n"Don't Cry for Me Argentina," makes an appearance without the rest of the Evita album with it, which is good.\nThe second half of the disc is mostly taken up by tracks from Ray of Light and Music, her last two albums, and probably her two best. They complete one of the most satisfying collections of the year. GHV2 is really a tremendous introduction to one of the world's savviest and most intelligent artists, and if you're happy with it, there is more where that came from.\n
(01/09/02 5:00am)
New Old Songs\nLimp Bizkit\nInterscope\nIn a way, New Old Songs by Limp Bizkit is the most predictable album of the holiday season. Don't be fooled by Bizkit's rebel pose, they are a processed product in the same way as the Backstreet Boys, N'Sync and Britney Spears. New Old Songs is exactly the type of album you'd expect for the holiday season market. \nWhile it was too early for a Limp Bizkit Greatest Hits package, they chose the next best thing -- an album of remixes of the old favorites. It's all here, including five different versions of "My Way." Are you excited yet?\nBizkit trotted out the best known in the business to sell this album. \nMadonna crony William Orbit, former Nirvana and Garbage producer ButchVig, Puff Daddy, Timbaland, Everlast and Xzibit all appear in guest spots as remixers or featured artists.\nUnfortunately, the remixes shed no new light on the testosterone-fueled rockers. \nIt is also interesting that almost all of the guest remixers chose to drop the group's music, leaving Fred Durst's vocals as the only reminder that this is a Bizkit product.\nThere are a few tracks like the Neptunes' remix of "N 2Gether Now - All in Together Now" and Butch Vig's remix of "Nookie," that turn out to be good, butt-shaking, dance numbers. \nToo often though, the remixes are sound textures strikingly similar to Kraftwerk and the Beastie Boys, using their much belabored drum-box beats and techno pops and buzzes.\nIf there is one bright spot to New Old Songs, it is that it may alienate their fan base enough so we can get these guys off of the radio and television. That probably won't happen and this record will probably be in the top five its first week out. This is market opportunism at its best, because Bizkit is all about the Benjamins and doing it for the nookie, but what happened to doing it for the sake of the song? \n
(12/06/01 5:00am)
here are only about 100 people in the world who understand our music." \nJohn Lennon made this comment in 1967 at the artistic height of the Beatles when anyone and everyone were hypothesizing what their songs meant. Belle and Sebastian have followed in this grand tradition, becoming more famous for their enigmatic personalities than their music. \nTheir stories have become pop folklore: refusing to release pictures of themselves, scarce live shows, often sending their friends to do interviews for them posing as members of the band, etc. What no one seems to be noticing or talking about is the intrinsic wackiness of the music itself. \nBelle and Sebastian are really a delightful post-modern joke.\nListening to Belle and Sebastian albums, it's hard to ignore the obvious choices made in the melodies and chord changes. The music is often a direct ripoff of the classic pop sound. \nThe lyrics are amusing mutations of the common themes of classic pop music. The songs read like Dali paintings, yet deflect serious study with their innocent tone. But a closer glance reveals a shrewd sensibility. \nThe newly released I'm Waking Up To Us, is classic Belle and Sebastian, songs about loving their cars, and their pets, and their Beach Boys ("I could even find it in my head/ to love Mike Love"). \nReleased in early June this year, "Sing… Jonathan David" is a much different effort. It is refreshing for its startling sincerity. The songs are a play on the story of David and his life after he kills Goliath and becomes King. David's relationship with his best friend Jonathan has suffered because of his good fortune -- David "gets all the chicks" now. \nThe songs are some of the most inspired, original melodies by Belle and Sebastian. The lyrics are sober reflections, probably about the departure of the band's iconoclast, Stuart David.\nBelle and Sebastian's creator and songwriter Stuart Murdoch started the band as a project for his music business class. His manipulation and understanding of pop culture have proved that he is a pretty good businessman.
(11/29/01 5:00am)
Driving Rain is Paul McCartney's first album of all original rock and roll songs since 1997's minor triumph, Flaming Pie. Since then he has lost his first wife to breast cancer, remarried and also completed full-blown classical music projects. \nWithin his new album, McCartney delves into the immense turbulence in his life with the usual sincerity and tenderness we've come to expect from him. Run Devil Run of 1999 was a miracle of a record for its naked display of his life. The album was comprised mostly of oldies covers, but it showed the desperation for a return to the good old days, if not just to look back and to remember, but also to cheer himself up. Now he feels the need to express these emotions "in his own write."\nOne should have no doubts of McCartney's dexterous lyrical abilities. (If you do, refer to "Eleanor Rigby" or "She's Leaving Home.") He doesn't write with vomit-inducing backflips like Dylan, but he has always been a fine storyteller. By the way, he can write some powerful melodies, too. \nOne can cringe easily at a line, such as "12345 Let's go for a drive," from "Driving Rain," but McCartney gets the job done with a Hemingway-like conciseness on the album. He allows the melodies, his classically emphatic vocals and the raw emotion of rock and roll to get the point across. \nThe sound of the album is a nice combination of the rock of Run Devil Run and the true musical abilities McCartney possesses. The real success comes from not going too far in either direction. The gorgeous guilt-stricken ballad "From A Lover To A Friend" is perfectly offset by the 10-minute, harsh rock and jam of the closing song "Rinse The Raindrops." \nDriving Rain can be a little bit confusing at first because of its wide range of emotions. Swinging from the lows of his first wife's death, to the guilt of finding new love, to the thrill of the new love, to soft nostalgia -- it's a deep ride. Those for the anathema for the solo Paul McCartney need not attempt this album, because it rewards close attention and the realization of his character. \nRating: 8
(11/16/01 3:53am)
Former bandmates Jay Farrar and Jeff Tweedy have proved to be two of the most volatile personalities in popular music these days. First, they couldn't get along together in Uncle Tupelo, forcing that band's breakup. Now, almost every original band member has left Tweedy's new group Wilco. Jay Farrar's Son Volt is on hiatus now, and he refuses to give a definite answer about the future of that group. \nFarrar, on his first tour as a solo act, marched into the Bluebird Tuesday night in support of his first solo album "Sebastopol." The album, which came out in late September, shows a growth in Farrar's instrumental approach. That growth reflects the growing brilliance of his former bandmate Tweedy. But where Tweedy is leading Wilco out of the alternative-country music that defined Uncle Tupelo and into a progressive pop format, Farrar is still reveling in the dried up "No Depression" movement. \nFarrar's opening act was Anders Parker from Varnaline. Parker played a 45-minute set that would have been more enjoyable had he passed out pillows and blankets beforehand. \nHe tried to attain the laziness of Neil Young in lulling the crowd by strumming his acoustic guitar and singing introspective lyrics. But his music neither showed conviction nor held interest like anything of Young's could. While he tried a feedback freakout near the middle of his set, it was only rousing because of its volume. It sounded like Parker was trying to make a song out of Lou Reed's Metal Machine Music -- which Reed himself has proved is quite pointless. \nFor an hour and a half, Farrar performed a set mostly of his new solo material. He slipped in a few Uncle Tupelo and Son Volt tunes to keep the small crowd at the Bluebird happy. Farrar didn't say much, mumbling a few times into the microphone in case he was playing a song that he thought the crowd wouldn't know. He was playing the disturbed artist bit he has become associated with as well as he could. \nFarrar brought multi-instrumentalist Mark Spencer to accompany him. Spencer displayed a remarkable talent on keyboards and guitar, but he really showed himself as a considerable talent with his tremendous lap-steel work.\nFarrar seemed to lack the intimacy to give such a sparse performance. His voice is a powerful instrument, but it is abrasive and unwavering and also lacks the clarity needed in a solo performance. \nHis songs are filled with post-Apocalyptic visions and musings on the Old West. As he sang on "Barstow," "they'll be digging through our landfills, to find evidence of our great demise." This is a subject that seems to be popular these days within the alternative country songwriter movement. Although the preoccupation with the decline of the Old West and modernization has actually been popular since Bob Dylan introduced beat poetry and writing to rock and roll.\nBut Dylan didn't dwell on modernization and it's possible that he never treated it with anathema the way Farrar does. This is an interesting deterrent to Farrar's progress -- is it possible to be stuck in the past and progress at the same time? His former bandmate Jeff Tweedy didn't think so. After re-evaluating Wilco's position, he decided that they should progress into high-end pop music. Wilco took off after this, releasing three albums in a row ("Being There," "Summer Teeth" and "Yankee Foxtrot Hotel") that grew in denseness, complexity and brilliance.\nWhile it's really not fair to compare Farrar to Tweedy, they do have the same timeline. Farrar's post-Uncle Tupelo work has paled in comparison to Tweedy's. It is also notable that most critics thought Farrar to be the superior talent.\nMaybe Farrar has accepted the limitations of country music, but think of it this way: What if the Beatles had stayed a bar band, or Dylan didn't go electric, or Miles Davis didn't embrace rock? It is the chances that artists take that make them great, and Farrar is not taking any chances.
(10/31/01 5:00am)
As the first lead singer of The Byrds it was obvious that Gene Clark should be destined for brilliance. His talent was evident not only in the strong vibrato of his singing voice but his prolific songwriting talents. Writing The Byrds' best material from 1965 and 1966, ("I'll Feel A Whole Lot Better," "Set You Free This Time," "Eight Miles High," etc.) other members of the group have said they didn't even want to try to compete with him. Clark quit the group in 1966 because of a fear of flying, ironically.\nHis lyrics had been almost too abstract and poetic for pop music, but he had held it together with a sense of melody rivaling that of Paul McCartney. Clark's solo material was critically acclaimed for its blend of poetic imagery with high musical distinction. His refusal to tour and promote sealed his fate of obscurity however and he is virtually unknown today.\nGypsy Angel contains the previously unheard music from Clark's later years. On all but one track he is accompanied only by an acoustic guitar. Four of the songs are from the mid-'80s, the other eight from 1990. Unfortunately, Gene Clark died in 1991 from a bleeding ulcer and a drinking problem. \nThe songs from 1990 show Clark at the peak of his lyrical abilities. The stories drip and curl with paradox and fear, made all the more real by the fact he would die only a few months later. \nThe four demos from the mid-'80s, are from a period that his music was at a low point artistically. But the songs "Gypsy Rider" and "Back In My Life Again" contain unique minor key guitar arrangements, although the lyrics reveal a redundancy and a concession pop sensibilities.\nThe songs on Gypsy Angel reveal a lot of Clark's personal condition at the time of the recordings. With the rise in popularity of other nakedly-personal acoustic albums like Skip Spence's Oar and Nick Drake's Time Of No Reply, this album has all the elements to gain a cult following. \nWhatever it is that introduces people to Gene Clark's music doesn't really matter, as long as it is heard.
(10/25/01 4:00am)
Beachwood Sparks' first album was a brilliant throwback to the days when country-psychedelic fusion was as startlingly new as color television once was. But the album was not a total revisitation; what made it so breathtaking at times was the use of new psychedelic sounds created earlier in the previous decade by the likes of My Bloody Valentine and Paul Oakenfold with the Happy Mondays. This is the same type of sound that Radiohead currently uses to make people call an album of bad songs and underdeveloped melodies a masterpiece. \nOn the band's second album, Once We Were Trees, Beachwood Sparks shows expansion from the ideas on the first release. The space-cowboy approach played to the hilt on the first album is still here. It's just that now that cowboy seems to have awoken from his mescaline trip in the desert and realized there are a lot of other people around him. \nBeachwood Sparks uses psychedelic textures to propel capital material, using this method to create an air of open space. That feeling is needed when turning in a tone poem about the "lonesome crowded west."\nOnce We Were Trees works like a song cycle, each song seems to breeze effortlessly into the next, creating a captivating unison. At the very beginning of the album the musicians announce their change, quickly going from their familiar aimless drone into singer Chris Gunst announcing, "confusion is nothing new." This is followed by a nervous rave sent sailing by a pump organ, chiming guitars and Beach Boy-type harmonies. \nThe stand out song "By Your Side" was originally done by Sade. Here, it is given a country overhaul and comes out sounding surprisingly sincere. \nThroughout Once We Were Trees, Beachwood Sparks searches for the way to deal with the big city and how everything else will fit in around it. From the sound of it the band members aren't dealing with it all that well, but the breakdown is a complete joy to listen to. Beachwood Sparks is well on its way to becoming the most consistently exciting band around.\nRating: 10
(10/18/01 4:00am)
In recent interviews, Leonard Cohen has said that the deep depression he has felt throughout his career is over. He has spent the better part of the nine years since his last album living in a monastery, where he said he learned that it was all pointless. As to be expected, Cohen's latest album, Ten New Songs, reflects his "personal growth."\nCohen always was the best lyricist in rock and roll, using his novelist decadence and eye for detail to out-do contemporaries such as Bob Dylan, Randy Newman and Lou Reed. His songs read like novels, stories dipping deep into the darker realms of the psyche. \nThe use of synthesizers and syncopated drum beats on Ten New Songs sounds a little dated. But only dated by 10 years or so, which is excusable because Cohen is only a few moments away from his 70th birthday. For the most part, the arrangements are subtle enough and stay out of the way of his terrific lyrics. \nThick imagery, which is expected of Cohen, is still here. On "Alexandra Leaving" the inevitable and coincidental meetings of sex and God are explored. This is familiar ground for anyone acquainted with Cohen's work. \nHe also explores his imminent death and voyage to the afterlife on "Boogie Street." He plainly says, "Bewildered by your beauty there/ I'd kneel to dry your feet./ By such instructions you prepare/ A man for Boogie Street."\nCohen also reminisces about his well publicized problems on "That Don't Make It Junk." "I fought against the bottle/ But I had to do it drunk/ Took my diamond to the pawn shop/ But that don't make it junk," he sings of his demons. \nTen New Songs is an album that finds Cohen writing about the same types of acquaintances and ostentatious types that have graced his work since he was writing novels in the '50s. But this time, he writes in the past tense. Cohen doesn't find his characters beautiful anymore, nor does he find them sophisticated. He even manages to sound disgusted and yet longing for them to recompense. As so, Cohen is leading by example and still professing his love for those drunken intellectuals of his past.\nRating: 8
(10/15/01 3:55am)
Willie Nelson does it all for his love of music. It is the mistress of music that keeps him away from home and on the road more than 200 days of the year. At age 68, he doesn't plan to retire or slow down any time soon. He's still living life the same way he did back in 1973, when he first presented himself as the prototype for the country outlaw.\nThe other reason for his torrid pace is his fans. At the IU Auditorium Saturday night, he played to a packed house. The crowd was mostly older fans in town for the Homecoming weekend. Everyone in the crowd knew what they could expect from Nelson. He has been making hits for more than 40 years. When Nelson took the stage in his black clothes and cowboy hat, his hair in its trademark pigtails, they had no reason to think the night's performance would be anything less than stellar.\nDuring the past 20 years, Nelson's most popular work has been duets. From Waylon Jennings and Merle Haggard to Dr. John and B.B. King, it seems as if Nelson has done a duet with just about everybody. With a new album of duets with such high profile artists as Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow due early next year, it seems as if he will never get back to seriously doing what he does best.\nNelson's best work has always been his interpretations and song phrasing done on a small scale. His best album, 1975's "The Red Headed Stranger," contained such a low-fi approach and spare sound that his record company thought it was a demo. The duets, while they remain the most popular of his work, mark the low point of his creative output. His latest album, "Rainbow Connection," a simple collection of children's songs, was one of his most endearing albums of the last two decades because of its lackadaisical approach and lack of pretensions.\nSomewhat unfortunately, Saturday night's concert displayed the same mindset that keeps Nelson making his duets albums. Throughout the two hour, 40-plus song set, he hardly played a song that the whole crowd didn't already know. Taking no song or set breaks, Nelson and his band blazed through the best known of his song catalog as if they had someplace else to be. \nAs each song melted into the next, the crowd roared as soon as they recognized which hit was being played. Nelson plodded along, playing "Whiskey River," "Crazy," "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain" and "Mama, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys." He covered all his bases to make sure no one would leave disappointed about the song he didn't play.\nThere were a few precious moments where Nelson came into his own, presenting the subtleties that make his music so glorious. These mostly consisted of the interplay between him and his band, on songs like "The Great Divide," where the band's jazzy notes met the Spanish classical influence in the song. \nNelson has had a long career, and you can't fault him for choosing to rehash his greatest hits in concert -- but at the same time, it's difficult to watch a once-viable artist stay stuck in the past. He has shown at times that he can still be much more than a nostalgia act. His live shows and duet albums show that he may just now be succumbing to the commercialism that he had once fought so hard against.
(10/12/01 3:29am)
Willie Nelson is not what you would call a traditional country music star -- he's an outlaw. Since his beginnings as a struggling songwriter in Nashville, Tenn., he has been fighting against the constraints of the country music genre.\nAt 68, Nelson shows no signs of slowing down after a 40-year career and 100 albums. He will perform at the IU Auditorium at 8 p.m. Saturday for the Homecoming concert. Tickets cost from $26 to $46 ($16 to $26 for IU-Bloomington students) and are still available.\nJohn Hobson, senior vice president of the IU Alumni Association, which is a co-sponsor of the event, said "Nelson is a good attraction and offers a broad appeal."\n"Each year we work with the IU Auditorium to make this weekend special," Hobson said. "We feel the Willie Nelson concert will be a perfect ending to our Homecoming weekend. He is a legend."\nNelson started his career in music as a DJ in Fort Worth, Texas. He sold his first song, "Family Bible," for $50 in 1960 and decided to move to Nashville to try his luck. The nasal timbre of his voice and his jazzy vocal styling kept him from being a successful performer at first, but his song writing abilities were eventually noticed.\nThroughout the 1960s he had success as a songwriter. He wrote popular songs like "Crazy," "Hello Walls" and "Funny How The Time Slips Away." Patsy Cline's recording of "Crazy," remains the most requested country song ever.\nDespite his success as a songwriter, he could not get a break as a performer. Discouraged by the lack of interest in his performing and the formulaic approach to country music in Nashville, Nelson packed it up and moved back to Texas to become a pig farmer.\nHe didn't wait to long to re-emerge, and in 1973 he reappeared with a new image, transforming himself into a country outlaw. His new albums had concepts, and his songs reflected his wide range of influences. It would become this image that Nelson would be known by -- the long red hair in pigtails and his classical guitar with a huge hole which he named Trigger. By the time he released the "Red Headed Stranger" album in 1975, Willie Nelson had become a household name.\n"He never has seemed too concerned with image," said assistant music professor Andy Hollinden, who teaches the History of Rock of the 1970s and 1980s. "That is one of the things that I have liked about him. It wasn't about the glamour and looks but the music. He is the genuine article, just like Hank Williams Sr."\nNelson is as active now as ever. He released five albums of new material in 2000 and has released one album, "Rainbow Connection," this year, with at least one more scheduled for release before year's end. \nNelson also still tours for the better part of the year. He played in Noblesville last month at Farm Aid, an event he co-founded. He also closed the "Tribute To Heroes" telethon, leading an achingly beautiful rendition of "God Bless America." That performance inspired Dan Rather to say if America had a collective voice, it would probably sound like Willie Nelson.
(10/11/01 4:00am)
Since his start with Whiskeytown and after his first solo album Heartbreaker, Ryan Adams has been plagued by high expectations. Critics have agreed that Adams is an exceptional songwriter and though he hasn't found it yet, he is destined to have great success.\nAdams decided to answer these nagging comments by calling his second solo album Gold. For critics who point out his obvious debt to his influences, Adams fires back by inverting Bruce Springsteen's famous cover photo from Born In The U.S.A. On the back is a photo of a bed with records piled high.\nIt was after those banal shots at his critics that Adams decided to make his album. Not that this album seems thrown together; there are 21 songs collected here. Adams seems to have discovered the pop ballad earlier this year, and not in the place you think he would have looked. While on Heartbreaker he wrote tasteful ballads inspired by Gram Parsons' solo albums, on Gold he looks only as far back as the Counting Crows and the rest of the too dramatic roots bands from the mid-'90s. He often drops his low growl from his previous work in favor of a Van Morrison style, soaks a song with strings, sits down at the piano and sings about love. Sometimes it's enticing and even believable, often it's tiresome. \nAdams doesn't totally abandon the essence that made Heartbreaker so good. There are a few interesting rockers such as "New York, New York" and "Firecracker." On "Sylvia Plath" and "When Stars Go Blue," he attaches the expressive gravely voice that is precisely the reason why so many have high expectations for him. \nWith the right amount of airplay and exposure there is no reason that Gold should not be a gold record. Adams has written the kind of songs that the public falls for as sincerity. Despite some questionable moments, Gold does provide some songs that his antecedent fans will find fabulous and will likely prolong their feelings that Adams might just be the second coming.
(09/20/01 4:42am)
Sebastopol is the first solo album by former Uncle Tupelo and Son Volt frontman Jay Farrar. The work he has done with these seminal alt-country bands was some of the most influential and critically acclaimed of the 1990s. \nIt's been more than three years since Son Volt's last album, and consequently it sounds as if Farrar had plenty of time to work on the album. That is a compliment to the songs as much as it is a detriment to them. The songs are very well written, but it also seems as though he spent a prolonged time in the studio playing around with every sound and instrument he could find. He employs swirling effects, alternate tunings, atypical rock rhythms, synthesizers and sitars quite frequently throughout the album. Often, it just seems to cloud the water. \nBut at times synthesized strings are used very well to affix drama. "Feed Kill Chain" and "Damaged Son" use the synthesizer to add a distant, terror-stricken feeling. But on "Voodoo Candle" and "Prelude (Make It Alright)," the sound just seems misused. The highlight here is "Barstow," employing no gimmicks, it is a humorous story and has some excellent harmonies (with Gillian Welch) and lap steel work. \nProbably the biggest problem with Farrar is his lyrics. With Uncle Tupelo and on Son Volt's first album Trace, the portraits of existentialism in the Midwest seemed refreshing and powerful, but now the subject matter seems tired. While it's possible that like his folk music heroes he feels a certain responsibility to report, it's more possible he doesn't know what else to say.\nIn a way Sebastopol is remarkable because it isn't boring. It is long, almost 45 minutes, and it's always surprising that Farrar's placid vocals are as captivating and emotional as they are. Despite well-worn lyrical subjects, he is finding new ways to present the sound of the meaningless Midwest, which proves that the synthesis between country and rock has a lot of uncharted territory.
(09/20/01 4:32am)
At the risk of saying, "here's yet another side of Bob Dylan," here it is. This album could be seen as a Basement Tapes or John Wesley Harding-like attempt at American musical history, but it's not. Oh, it's American history all right, he just got a little closer to the right answer here on Love And Theft, the icon's 43rd album. He looks to the blues, rockabilly, Tin Pan Alley, Sun Studios and country-swing to fit his vision.\nThis is Dylan's second indisputable masterpiece in a row, which is unfamiliar ground for a 60-year-old rock and roller. Gone is the swampy, deathbed feel of 1997's Time Out Of Mind, replaced with "that thin mercury sound" that Dylan used to describe his 1960s trilogy Bringing It All Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde On Blonde. The lyrical imagery is dense, humorous and fits in so easily to the sound of his fabulous backing band (his touring band for the last two years). Dylan did the production himself under the pseudonym Jack Frost.\nOn songs like "Moonlight," "Bye And Bye" and "Po' Boy," Dylan looks to pre-rock pop music. At first listen these songs seem pretty awful, but it's easy to realize how they fit in with the album. It is pure schmaltz, but that's the point, the lyrics strike home that these songs are not to be taken sincerely. Listen to the way Dylan sings these songs, allowing his voice to crack, the sound of almost a restrained laugh, and the vision of the smirk on his face is clear.\nBut this album is not a joke -- it's an album of stories. On the aforementioned songs the stories are in the style. But songs such as "High Water (For Charley Patton)," go on On The Road-like journeys through the past, complete with wild, vivacious descriptions of the mundane and significant with equal attention.\nSo many people will inevitably scrutinize the album and whether they like it or not, the point should not be lost that Dylan set out to make a concept album. As he sings in "Summer Days," "she says, 'You can't repeat the past,' I say, 'You can't? What do you mean you can't? Of course, you can."
(09/20/01 4:00am)
At the risk of saying, "here's yet another side of Bob Dylan," here it is. This album could be seen as a Basement Tapes or John Wesley Harding-like attempt at American musical history, but it's not. Oh, it's American history all right, he just got a little closer to the right answer here on Love And Theft, the icon's 43rd album. He looks to the blues, rockabilly, Tin Pan Alley, Sun Studios and country-swing to fit his vision.\nThis is Dylan's second indisputable masterpiece in a row, which is unfamiliar ground for a 60-year-old rock and roller. Gone is the swampy, deathbed feel of 1997's Time Out Of Mind, replaced with "that thin mercury sound" that Dylan used to describe his 1960s trilogy Bringing It All Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde On Blonde. The lyrical imagery is dense, humorous and fits in so easily to the sound of his fabulous backing band (his touring band for the last two years). Dylan did the production himself under the pseudonym Jack Frost.\nOn songs like "Moonlight," "Bye And Bye" and "Po' Boy," Dylan looks to pre-rock pop music. At first listen these songs seem pretty awful, but it's easy to realize how they fit in with the album. It is pure schmaltz, but that's the point, the lyrics strike home that these songs are not to be taken sincerely. Listen to the way Dylan sings these songs, allowing his voice to crack, the sound of almost a restrained laugh, and the vision of the smirk on his face is clear.\nBut this album is not a joke -- it's an album of stories. On the aforementioned songs the stories are in the style. But songs such as "High Water (For Charley Patton)," go on On The Road-like journeys through the past, complete with wild, vivacious descriptions of the mundane and significant with equal attention.\nSo many people will inevitably scrutinize the album and whether they like it or not, the point should not be lost that Dylan set out to make a concept album. As he sings in "Summer Days," "she says, 'You can't repeat the past,' I say, 'You can't? What do you mean you can't? Of course, you can."
(09/20/01 4:00am)
Sebastopol is the first solo album by former Uncle Tupelo and Son Volt frontman Jay Farrar. The work he has done with these seminal alt-country bands was some of the most influential and critically acclaimed of the 1990s. \nIt's been more than three years since Son Volt's last album, and consequently it sounds as if Farrar had plenty of time to work on the album. That is a compliment to the songs as much as it is a detriment to them. The songs are very well written, but it also seems as though he spent a prolonged time in the studio playing around with every sound and instrument he could find. He employs swirling effects, alternate tunings, atypical rock rhythms, synthesizers and sitars quite frequently throughout the album. Often, it just seems to cloud the water. \nBut at times synthesized strings are used very well to affix drama. "Feed Kill Chain" and "Damaged Son" use the synthesizer to add a distant, terror-stricken feeling. But on "Voodoo Candle" and "Prelude (Make It Alright)," the sound just seems misused. The highlight here is "Barstow," employing no gimmicks, it is a humorous story and has some excellent harmonies (with Gillian Welch) and lap steel work. \nProbably the biggest problem with Farrar is his lyrics. With Uncle Tupelo and on Son Volt's first album Trace, the portraits of existentialism in the Midwest seemed refreshing and powerful, but now the subject matter seems tired. While it's possible that like his folk music heroes he feels a certain responsibility to report, it's more possible he doesn't know what else to say.\nIn a way Sebastopol is remarkable because it isn't boring. It is long, almost 45 minutes, and it's always surprising that Farrar's placid vocals are as captivating and emotional as they are. Despite well-worn lyrical subjects, he is finding new ways to present the sound of the meaningless Midwest, which proves that the synthesis between country and rock has a lot of uncharted territory.