Monthly archive

June 2019

Weekly spins: Folk Family Revival, EODM, Hollis Brown, Neil Young, Bob Dylan, Dylan LeBlanc, Rickie Lee Jones

If three makes a trend, I’ve got this weekly post nailed now. There’s an embarrassment of riches this week, so I’ll jump straight in:

I’ve got a big soft spot for this Texas band, whose heartfelt debut hit right as I was going through a rough patch at the top of the decade and served as the soundtrack of that year for me.

Longtime Folk Family Revival fans might be a smidge surprised by a harder-rocking concept album this time out. The concept piece is a double-edged sword, making it more difficult, but more rewarding to get into the new work. If you like Shooter Jennings concept stuff, or have been hungering for an Americana riff on The Wall, this is for you.


As I said last week, a good cover teaches you something new about the song and about the band playing it. On that basis, Eagles of Death Metal’s new one is a smashing success. I don’t generally dig EODM, but this eclectic compilation hit my sweet spot in the same way that Me First and the Gimme Gimmes does, without falling into the trap of everything sounding exactly the same (see Weezer’s recent outing). Bonus points for two(!) Kenny Rogers covers.


The first of two big lost-and-live releases, this is the most successful, a 1973 vintage Neil Young show that shows off both pristine acoustic takes and his rock, sans grunge style.


As much as I love me some Bob Dylan, and as excited as I am for the upcoming Scorsese documentary on this same topic, I just can’t do another live Dylan compilation, much less fifteen discs of it. There’s a point where completism creates a blur. I tried to get into the single-disc sampler, but nothing spoke to me.


Speaking of Bob, Hollis Brown, named for the Dylan classic, drops a new one that, like Folk Family Revival (above) stretches the band beyond its so-far typical Americana roots. This is a band that I love every time I hear them, but tend to forget later. Ozone Park feels like one I’ll remember.


Dylan LeBlanc is new to me, via a mention on the Bitter Southerner Facebook group. I’m liking his new outing which feels both retro-seventies and modern, while highlighting his Muscle Shoals heritage, via his father. The songwriting puts me in mind of mid-career Ryan Adams.


This is another fairly serviceable covers collection from Rickie Lee Jones that I might not have mentioned were it not for the death of her most famous duet partner this week. That said, her rendition of Bad Company’s “Bad Company” is worth a spin.


I didn’t predict how hard the loss of Dr. John would hit me this week. I loved his stuff before I knew what New Orleans music was about — and he’s been part of more wondrous supergroup moments than I can count. I love him best live, and this disc is the most indicative of the several floating around.


I figured it wouldn’t take long to have a “yeah, right” moment on my random spin of the week, with a too-serendipitous shuffle selection, and here we are. This Alabama 3 song is one of my all-time favorites (like literally top ten all-time) for me — and it happens that band cofounder Reverend Dee Wayne Love died a few weeks ago, just before I started these recaps.

Apple’s moves to the future — Polish, privacy, Pad, and purpose

I have thoughts on the announcements Apple made at it’s annual “Welcome independent developers who want to see how we’re building native features that make your apps obsolete” event. I thought to keep my yap shut on this one, but since my most-read post ever came after a WWDC and I saw some meaningful moves, I figured why not…

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Weekly spins: Mavis Staples; Echo in the Canyon; Stray Cats; Ryan Hamilton; Empire Cats

Further evidence of the chicanery of modern digital media release practices: What should have been last week’s lede was left out, partly because it wasn’t highlighted in Apple’s new music; and partly because we now trickle out a song at a time while letting listeners pre-add the album to their library. [Insert fist-shaking exhortation to exit my lawn here.]

So, without a doubt the album of last week, and maybe this month was Mavis Staples’ We Get By. And I’ve got some other holdovers herein.

Mavis’ late-career renaissance stands second only to Johnny Cash’s, but she seems to have some time to catch up. This time, her muse is Ben Harper, who produced, wrote all the songs, and appears on one track. Mavis means Gospel and hope; Harper means urgency and dark for the light to envelop.

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