No Blanks From Bullet, Potter’s Pop Move, Muffs & More
Bullet For My Valentine: Venom (RCA) In a world where much of the most interesting music is mildly fascinating, almost there, cool but just slightly short of the originality needed to clinch things, there are bands like Bullet For My Valentine. They are none of those things, but they are British, they are dependable, they are offering up their fifth studio album, and they are oddly satisfying. From its divinely inspired metallic cover—simple, just one letter, phallic in shape, around which a similarly phallic snake coils—to its odd name (a tribute to that fascinating Brit metal black metal band of the late ‘70s? the sort of thing you call any album with a snake on its cover?), Venom pounds, roars, excites you if you’re so inclined, and is entirely commercial without any eye toward compromise. They are touring right now with Slipknot and Lamb Of God, they do not play no folk music, and they are very good at what they do.
Grace Potter: Midnight (Hollywood) Kind of hard to believe that this beat-heavy pop record which might’ve easily been released in the early ‘80s on Mike Chapman’s short-lived Dreamland label is 1) a contemporary album 2) by Grace Potter. A classy singer with a dynamic voice, Potter has spent the past decade establishing a considerable legacy, whether it be via her own soulful singing, or her recent branching out genre-wise with duet partners the likes of Kenny Chesney and Mick Jagger. This just seems like a lot of stuff, all over the place, produced professionally by Eric Valentine (Third Eye Blind, Smash Mouth, more) and lacking any soulful center whatsoever. It is career stuff, not art stuff, and it does not bode well for either Potter or the current shape of the music biz. It makes one long for the aesthetic purity of Kim Carnes and Juice Newton.
Rayland Baxter: Imaginary Man (ATO) Er, that being said, currently on the road with Ms. Potter is the delightfully talented Rayland Baxter, a Nashville-based singer/songwriter with a knack for memorable songs and a highly regarded debut album (2012’s Feathers & Fish Hooks) behind him. This is a smart, well-played and well-arranged collection of pop songs that shows that first set to be no fluke: There’s personality aplenty here, and the overall tone and feel of a significant artist likely to getter better by the minute. Will appeal to fans of rock, Americana, country, pop, and pure sentiment—as the not quite soppily soft (and better for it) arrangements of “Rugged Lovers” makes abundantly clear. Highly recommended: he is on his way up.
Lizzy Mercier Descloux: Press Color (Light In The Attic) Light In The Attic’s distinguished string of reissues hits a new peak with this former Ze Records release by French singer Descloux, who arrived in New York in the late ‘70s, scampered in as part of that whole theoretical No Wave thing, but was more listenable and quirkier than nearly that whole bunch. In my former office of several years ago, many of my fellow employees used to listen to her covers of “Fire,” the instrumental “Mission Impossible,” and the charming “Herpes Simplex” and “Tumor” and marvel at her artful promise. Yup. Anyway, it’s all here, plus lots more, including one track (“Morning High”) with Patti Smith. There are a total of five Descloux albums promised, and I would be willing to bet they will all be worth your time and mine. More details here.
Dee Dee Bridgewater, Irvin Mayfield & The New Orleans Jazz Orchestra: Dee Dee’s Feathers (OKeh) It’s not insignificant that this album arrives close to the 10th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina’s fateful strike upon New Orleans. It evokes the same sense of life, joy and musicality that has helped lift that city from the depths of despair and put it back on its righteous and reputable path. Multi-Grammy winning vocalist Bridgewater is heard here with the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra running through familiar classics like “Saint James Infirmary” and “Do You Know What It Means To Miss New Orleans,” evoking Louis Armstrong all over the place and breathing life into nearly everything they touch. It’s a polished and respectful album, significantly on the revitalized OKeh Records label, and a classy reminder of a distinguished city’s unmistakable legacy.
Procol Harum: A Salty Dog (Esoteric Antenna reissue) This is best album there is in the distinguished catalog of Procol Harum, who from 1967’s “A Whiter Shade Of Pale” on through 1971’s Broken Barricades recorded some of most literate, melodic and still-underrated rock n’ roll records of the era. Their third album, originally released in 1969, it has been reissued in various CD configurations since that format was introduced—but here, in its current extended, bonus-track laden format, all spiffed up soundwise, it’s about as good as it could possibly be. The songs are uniformly top-notch, the vocals are mostly those of distinguished “Pale” singer Gary Brooker, but both organist Matthew Fisher and guitarist Robin Trower offer conspicuous, very memorable contributions, and A Salty Dog represents a very good band at their absolute peak. All these years later, there’s still nothing like it.
The Muffs: The Muffs (Omnivore) A welcome reissue and reappraisal of that very first 1993 album by LA’s the Muffs, an enthusiastic punk/pop/garage combo featuring a former pair of Pandoras, a good ear for aggressive, lovably dopey hooks, and the sort of approach that made issuing singles with names like “I’m A Dick” a natural. If you haven’t heard them for a while—and you probably haven’t—you’ll probably be charmed by the commerciality of their raucousness, and the raucousness of their commerciality, which makes a lot more sonic sense in 2015 than it did in 1993. Bonus tracks galore, new liner notes from the band’s Kim Shattuck and Ronnie Barnett, and a good showing for all concerned.
