CDS WE LOVE...in which we cozy up to and share music that has struck our eardrums.
(The streams below will be available until August 1, when a new batch will appear.)
We will pump up this department not only to...uh...pontificate about music we are sure is of value and worth sharing, but to explore. By "explore," we mean, we will embrace and champion and parade our ignorance, shamelessly. Case in point 1: For only a few years we've been digging African pop music. Our lodestar in this regard has been Fela Kuti, the jazzy-but-electric-grooving, can-do man of Nigeria. What we like about the 1970s African pop we've heard is that it's not jazzy and intellectual, it's jazzy and danceable. But we can't pretend to know more than that. Case in point 2: On a whim, we ordered this album. Never heard of this Moussa guy. It turns out that Moussa Doumbia of Mali was heavily influenced by Fela (the two countries are neighbors). We have already listened to this album, Keleya (originally released in 1976), ten times in an attempt to wax wise and sum it up. But we have failed. Many of its explainable qualities still elude us. But those ten times of listening to Moussa Doumbia's album gave us nothing but pleasure and we look forward, seriously, to hearing his other work.

A strenuous cult argues that the Pretty Things, a still-active band, are just as good as the Rolling Stones, with whom they share a timeline (both emerged from 1960s London) and a historic interest in hard-playing blues. They even shared a guitarist, Dick Taylor, who jammed for the Stones before joining the Pretties. This album was commissioned by a young, bored, filthy-rich French aristocrat named Philippe DeBarge, who wanted to record a rock album and hire top pros to back him. He got his wish. Recorded in 1969 between the Pretties' two most acclaimed achievements (SF Sorrow and Parachute; almost the equivalent of recording with the Stones between Beggars Banquet and Let It Bleed), the band ended up liking the dilettante. This previously lost album—which was completed but never released—includes one bonus track: a new song called "Monsieur Rock (Ballad of Philippe)" by the survivors of the original session (DeBarge killed himself in 1976). While DeBarge is a fairly limited singer, he's artistically humble (he works with the band rather than has them work for him) and his voice has personality. On top of that, the Pretties agreed to this deal with the stipulation that they would write the songs DeBarge would sing. It was a deft negotiating ploy; happiness ensued....

(For more info about Philippe DeBarge, please visit UT Records.)
It's a perfect match, Willie and Texas swing music. There is, after all, a natural bounce to Willie's singing. But paired with the firecrackers who are anything but asleep at the wheel? Double the fun. Much credit for guiding this boisterous honky-tonker into life goes to the late producer/sweetheart Jerry Wexler (Dusty Springfield, Aretha, Ray Charles, Willie, Bob Dylan, et al), who acted as executive producer even while he was closing in on death. As Asleep chief Ray Benson states in the liner notes: "Jerry was involved in every way insisting, with my agreement, that some of the tracks should include horns...." Horns! Just the kind of touch a sharp-eared and gutsy producer like Jerry Wexler would "insist" on. They say God is in the details.

(For more info about Willie and the Wheel, please visit Willie and the Wheel.)
More of the same. By which we mean: the relevant, listenable work of Levon Helm keeps expanding. Electric Dirt offers choice song selection (and composition), bluesy, twangy, and supple playing, layered but unfussy arrangements (featuring: rich backing voices, organ, fiddles, horns, etc.), and a singing drummer whose affecting voice makes it easy to forget that Helm suffered from throat cancer just ten years ago. Produced by Dylan cohort Larry Campbell (also one of two hot guitarists here), Electric Dirt is a terrific follow-up to 2007's Dirt Farmer, likewise terrific. Helm's solo career is a continuation of the country-blues vibe exuded so well by his former Band. Plus, when it comes to dirt, you gotta heed a guy from Turkey Scratch, Arkansas, right?

(For more info about Electric Dirt, please visit Vanguard Records or Levon Helm.)
Cassandra Wilson's singing comes from deep within. For some of us, the effect is sometimes so intimate as to make us feel like unwanted guests. Like Cat Power, she can also deconstruct a song so as to render it unrecognizable. The pop songs on this CD have appeared on various Cassandra Wilson albums. It turns out that pop covers provide a warm and friendly introduction to Wilson's muscular, take-it-or-leave-it style. These familiar hits—from such diverse sources as Van Morrison, Cyndi Lauper, the Monkees, and Anne Peebles—give plenty of elbow room for interpretation, but they also seem to keep the artist somewhat grounded. Closer to You will likely draw new fans to this original talent.
(For more info about Closer to You, please visit Blue Note.)
To judge from this collection of small-label 45s, Mack Allen Smith roamed Mississippi playing music with one goal in mind: to prevail upon bobby-soxers at the local hop to get up and hopping. And he'd use anything at his disposal to achieve that reaction: blues, pop, r&b, country, even a rockabilly version of the ol' plantation chestnut, "Old Man River." In the mix-and-matching of genre (and races), he echoes the ramblin' songsters of yore—and, less romantically, even the nearby competition of the day like the all-black r&b band, the Red Tops, who did a rocking version of another ol' plantation nugget, "Swanee River" (Smith is white). Smith's music was bright, poppy, and not very complicated. But he put it out there with pep and conviction—and if you ever went to a Mack Allen Smith sockhop, you probably left sweaty and smiling.

(For more info about The Early Years, please visit Big Legal Mess.)
This album sounded great—heartfelt and probing—when it was first released in 1996, and it sounds great now. Revival just may be one of the masterpieces to emerge from the Alt. Country genre. We rank it up there with Loretta Lynn's Van Lear Rose (2004), Marty Stuart's The Pilgrim (1999), and Robbie Fulk's Country Love Songs (1996), among a handful of others. Until we had the reissue in our hands, we had forgotten that Revival was produced by the uncannily reliable T. Bone Burnett—another sign of life.

(For more info about Revival, please visit Acony Records.)
Kid Congo is a musician we don't know anything about. And what he and his band play might be rock or post-rock. We don't know. (It's either too clever or we are too obtuse.) But the occasional act of spinning CDs you don't know anything about has its occasional rewards. The music here is playfully deranged, sometimes muddled or trancey, and full of spunk. Think: Iggy Pop + 13th Floor Elevators + Saturday Night Live. Does that help, or further confuse things?

(For more info about Dracula Boots, please visit In the Red Records.)
