I was looking through a piano book, trying to find a Bach piece that I could play reasonably well (I'm still at an early intermediate level) and in the informational section of the book (you know, the part with words, not musical notes) I read an interesting blurb about Bach and his membership in a group called "The Corresponding Society of the Musical Sciences." The purpose of this group was to find connections between math and music. Telemann and Handel were also members of this group, and Bach joined in 1747.
It is believed that this group inspired Bach to write The Art of Fugue, a monumental work, and a mainstay of the keyboard canon. The series of fugues in The Art are intricate and complex, are all in D minor, and are given the rather boring title of Contrapunctus. There is some speculation that the fugues were written as a sort of treatise, never really meant for performance. No instrumentation is given, so it's heard performed on piano or by ensembles of like or un-like instruments. It may be argued that the entire collection is a study of counterpoint. Counterpoint is the way notes move against and with each other and is the basis for musical harmony. An interesting thing to realize: in the very early years of tonal music history, chords weren't the basis for everything. Harmony was only the result of separate, moving lines. If two singers lined up on a pleasant sounding interval, that was noticed and developed. Certain intervals, therefore, were considered "bad". Which really means that they were dissonant. Hence, the eventual ban on the dreaded "Devil tone" or tritone (the most dissonant interval in tonal music.)
Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Rockets and steamrollers
I've been jotting down notes about things I'd like to write about. If I don't, I'll forget the idea. These are just a few of the things I've been thinking about this week:
--J. S. Bach, Douglas Hofstadter, and The Art of Fugue and The Goldberg Variations.
--Glenn Gould
--the Mannheim school/Mannheim style
--opus numbers and cataloguing systems for the works of Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, and Haydn.
--music theory history
--Beethoven's symphonies
The only one I'm prepared to talk about right now is the Mannheim school. I'm sure you've heard of the popular music group Mannheim Steamroller. The group takes their name from an interesting and important source. The Mannheim school, of Germany, was influential in the 18th century, and was responsible for the eventual changes in style of the symphonic work of Haydn and Mozart (who in turn influenced everyone else). The style of symphonic development that the school promoted entails soloistic use of woodwinds, prominent melodic lines, slow moving harmonies, and dramatic dynamic shifts. This last thing is where the modern group takes its names. In large scale symphonic works, extended crescendo passages were used, referred to as a Walze, or "roller" (now referred to as a steamroller). The Mannheim symphonies were highly regarded for their technical precision and large ensemble size (up to about this time in music history, most ensembles weren't very big, not like the modern symphony, which employs between 35-50 musicians).
Interestingly, Grove Music Online tells me that some of these stylistic innovations were actually originated from earlier Italian schools and Italian operas (Italian operatic repertoire were used in the Mannheim school).
There is also something called a Mannheim rocket, which is made up of an ascending triad (three notes) theme in equal note lengths, a "sigh", and something called a Bebung, which is a trembling effect, created by a rapid shaking of a finger on a string, or a key on a clavichord.
Now you know.
--J. S. Bach, Douglas Hofstadter, and The Art of Fugue and The Goldberg Variations.
--Glenn Gould
--the Mannheim school/Mannheim style
--opus numbers and cataloguing systems for the works of Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, and Haydn.
--music theory history
--Beethoven's symphonies
The only one I'm prepared to talk about right now is the Mannheim school. I'm sure you've heard of the popular music group Mannheim Steamroller. The group takes their name from an interesting and important source. The Mannheim school, of Germany, was influential in the 18th century, and was responsible for the eventual changes in style of the symphonic work of Haydn and Mozart (who in turn influenced everyone else). The style of symphonic development that the school promoted entails soloistic use of woodwinds, prominent melodic lines, slow moving harmonies, and dramatic dynamic shifts. This last thing is where the modern group takes its names. In large scale symphonic works, extended crescendo passages were used, referred to as a Walze, or "roller" (now referred to as a steamroller). The Mannheim symphonies were highly regarded for their technical precision and large ensemble size (up to about this time in music history, most ensembles weren't very big, not like the modern symphony, which employs between 35-50 musicians).
Interestingly, Grove Music Online tells me that some of these stylistic innovations were actually originated from earlier Italian schools and Italian operas (Italian operatic repertoire were used in the Mannheim school).
There is also something called a Mannheim rocket, which is made up of an ascending triad (three notes) theme in equal note lengths, a "sigh", and something called a Bebung, which is a trembling effect, created by a rapid shaking of a finger on a string, or a key on a clavichord.
Now you know.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Shiny Happy Lenny B
REM are "calling it a day," according to their website. After three decades, they are breaking up. The Athens, GA band, made up of Michael Stipe, Peter Buck, Mike Mills, and Bill Berry, was formed in 1980, but really hit it big in the 1990s with the albums Out of Time (1991), and Automatic for the People (1992).
A few years ago, while trying to expand my rock band knowledge, I picked up a copy of Out of Time. Mostly for Shiny Happy People, a song the band eventually hated, but I loved. I've also always really enjoyed It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) 1987, which is interesting to me because of it's James Joyce-esque stream of consciousness style and the interesting back-story of Michael Stipe's reason for the list of people in the lyrics with the initials of L. B. (He had a dream where he was at a party surrounded by people with all the same initials.) The comic Pearls Before Swine did a strip with Pig and Rat dancing around with beer hats on, singing gibberish until they both scream in unison "LEONARD BERNSTEIN!" (Homer Simpson does a great parody of this song too, and now I can't hear it without simultaneously singing Homer's version.)
Anyway, Shiny Happy People, reportedly, is a commentary on some loosely translated piece of Chinese propaganda with regards to the Tienanmen Square protests of 1989. "Shiny happy people holding hands" is the oft-repeated refrain at the end of the song. Making an appearance as a guest vocalist is Kate Pierson of The B-52's (another band from Athens, GA). Supposedly, Stipe's aim was to be ironic, but it wound up being just a happy, bouncy song. It was later parodied by Sesame Street as Furry Happy Monsters. The meter change by the mandolin in the beginning and the middle of the song was a way of making a bridge section. Peter Buck is the mandolin player, and he also plays it on Losing My Religion, of the same album.
A few years ago, while trying to expand my rock band knowledge, I picked up a copy of Out of Time. Mostly for Shiny Happy People, a song the band eventually hated, but I loved. I've also always really enjoyed It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) 1987, which is interesting to me because of it's James Joyce-esque stream of consciousness style and the interesting back-story of Michael Stipe's reason for the list of people in the lyrics with the initials of L. B. (He had a dream where he was at a party surrounded by people with all the same initials.) The comic Pearls Before Swine did a strip with Pig and Rat dancing around with beer hats on, singing gibberish until they both scream in unison "LEONARD BERNSTEIN!" (Homer Simpson does a great parody of this song too, and now I can't hear it without simultaneously singing Homer's version.)
Anyway, Shiny Happy People, reportedly, is a commentary on some loosely translated piece of Chinese propaganda with regards to the Tienanmen Square protests of 1989. "Shiny happy people holding hands" is the oft-repeated refrain at the end of the song. Making an appearance as a guest vocalist is Kate Pierson of The B-52's (another band from Athens, GA). Supposedly, Stipe's aim was to be ironic, but it wound up being just a happy, bouncy song. It was later parodied by Sesame Street as Furry Happy Monsters. The meter change by the mandolin in the beginning and the middle of the song was a way of making a bridge section. Peter Buck is the mandolin player, and he also plays it on Losing My Religion, of the same album.
Monday, September 19, 2011
SAW
Recently, I watched a great French film called Delicatessen. It's one of those wonderfully wacky, almost surreal sort of movies, with great style, subtle wit, and a bit of gore. It's about a butcher, who is also a landlord, who kills people to sell to his tenants, a la Sweeney Todd. One of the main characters is a clown, who, in addition to performing some neat soap bubble tricks, plays a musical saw.
All I know about the musical saw is from an old Betty Boop cartoon, where Betty goes through a Looking Glass (or was it a grandfather clock?), Alice-style and meets all sorts of characters, one of which plays a saw. The sound is ethereal, like a theremin, and from what I have researched, fairly easy to play, unlike a theremin.
It seems uncertain exactly who first got the idea to put fiddle bow to saw, but it seems to have originated in the Appalachian region of the US. They became more popular in the vaudeville circuit, during the 1920s and 30s. The saw is "played" by friction of a well-rosined bow, either violin or 'cello, and bending the bow to a shallow S curve. The changes in how the bend is manipulated creates the different pitches. That's really all there is to it, and with some practice, the sawer can play anything she can sing. The saw is called for in some major works, including George Crumb's Ancient Voices of Children, and movie scores.
All I know about the musical saw is from an old Betty Boop cartoon, where Betty goes through a Looking Glass (or was it a grandfather clock?), Alice-style and meets all sorts of characters, one of which plays a saw. The sound is ethereal, like a theremin, and from what I have researched, fairly easy to play, unlike a theremin.
It seems uncertain exactly who first got the idea to put fiddle bow to saw, but it seems to have originated in the Appalachian region of the US. They became more popular in the vaudeville circuit, during the 1920s and 30s. The saw is "played" by friction of a well-rosined bow, either violin or 'cello, and bending the bow to a shallow S curve. The changes in how the bend is manipulated creates the different pitches. That's really all there is to it, and with some practice, the sawer can play anything she can sing. The saw is called for in some major works, including George Crumb's Ancient Voices of Children, and movie scores.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Another music joke
There once were two clams, Sam and Tom. They were good friends and promised to stay friends even after they died. When Tom Clam died, he went to heaven and was given a harp to play. Unfortunately, his friend Sam Clam, had apparently made a few mistakes, because when he died he went to hell and was given an accordion.
Well, one day Tom Clam was given permission to go visit his friend Sam Clam for a day. He was told to always remember to have his harp with him so that he would be allowed back into heaven when he returned. When he finally got to his friend's new home, they had a great time together, having lunch, taking in a movie, and ending the night at a disco club for some dancing. Tom Clam had so much fun, that he forgot to take his harp with him when he went back home. When he got to the Pearly Gates, he suddenly remembered:
"I LEFT MY HARP IN SAM CLAM'S DISCO!!"
give it a minute...
sound it out....
there it is. : D
Well, one day Tom Clam was given permission to go visit his friend Sam Clam for a day. He was told to always remember to have his harp with him so that he would be allowed back into heaven when he returned. When he finally got to his friend's new home, they had a great time together, having lunch, taking in a movie, and ending the night at a disco club for some dancing. Tom Clam had so much fun, that he forgot to take his harp with him when he went back home. When he got to the Pearly Gates, he suddenly remembered:
"I LEFT MY HARP IN SAM CLAM'S DISCO!!"
give it a minute...
sound it out....
there it is. : D
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Tim the Alien
Today's post is a Tim Reynolds appreciation post. I realize that I haven't heard every guitar player on the planet, but Tim is definitely up there on my list of super-amazing guitarists. Thanks to my love of Dave Matthews and Band (is there nothing this man can't do?) I was introduced to the music of Tim Reynolds.
Tim was born in Germany, to extremely religious parents, and after moving around the world and through the US Midwest, he eventually took up residence in Charlottesville, VA. This is where he met Dave. I was fortunate to see him and his band, TR3, play in Davenport in 2008 and 2009, and was completely blown away. He's a bit difficult to understand when he talks, and in interviews, he's talked about being from a different planet, but good grief, the man can play a guitar. As a guitarist friend of mine commented, after we went to see TR3 play, "'that's a lot of notes." True, but all good and really innovative notes. Listening to Tim's music is like going through a soundscape of different jagged edges. At first listen, it seems chaotic, but actually it's all very logical. TR3's first studio release was Radiance in 2009, and this album would be a good one to look into as a first time listener.
He's experimental, using different technologies and sound loop systems to create, and makes full use of time signatures, styles, and melodic harmonic devices. I am generally hard to impress, especially when it comes to the ubiquitous guitar player, but I am thoroughly impressed with Tim's skill. And if you see TR3 in concert, you may be lucky enough to see the Pooh Bear Wearing Gas Mask and Cow dancing around onstage. Large dancing animals is always a plus in my book.
Equally competent on electric and acoustic, he's been known to pick up other instruments such as the banjo and sitar. TR3 tours the country, and Tim can be seen as one half of the Dave and Tim acoustic duo and he's appeared on nearly every one of DMB's studio albums. As a personal record, in addition to the couple of times I saw his band play, I've seen him perform a Dave and Tim set at the 2011 DMB Caravan and at every DMB show I've been able to attend. Rounding out the TR3 trio on bass is Mick Vaughn, and Dan Martier on drums.
If you get an opportunity to see Tim play, as a part of a DMB show or as TR3 or just by himself, I highly recommend it. And who knows, maybe we are all aliens.
Tim was born in Germany, to extremely religious parents, and after moving around the world and through the US Midwest, he eventually took up residence in Charlottesville, VA. This is where he met Dave. I was fortunate to see him and his band, TR3, play in Davenport in 2008 and 2009, and was completely blown away. He's a bit difficult to understand when he talks, and in interviews, he's talked about being from a different planet, but good grief, the man can play a guitar. As a guitarist friend of mine commented, after we went to see TR3 play, "'that's a lot of notes." True, but all good and really innovative notes. Listening to Tim's music is like going through a soundscape of different jagged edges. At first listen, it seems chaotic, but actually it's all very logical. TR3's first studio release was Radiance in 2009, and this album would be a good one to look into as a first time listener.
He's experimental, using different technologies and sound loop systems to create, and makes full use of time signatures, styles, and melodic harmonic devices. I am generally hard to impress, especially when it comes to the ubiquitous guitar player, but I am thoroughly impressed with Tim's skill. And if you see TR3 in concert, you may be lucky enough to see the Pooh Bear Wearing Gas Mask and Cow dancing around onstage. Large dancing animals is always a plus in my book.
Equally competent on electric and acoustic, he's been known to pick up other instruments such as the banjo and sitar. TR3 tours the country, and Tim can be seen as one half of the Dave and Tim acoustic duo and he's appeared on nearly every one of DMB's studio albums. As a personal record, in addition to the couple of times I saw his band play, I've seen him perform a Dave and Tim set at the 2011 DMB Caravan and at every DMB show I've been able to attend. Rounding out the TR3 trio on bass is Mick Vaughn, and Dan Martier on drums.
If you get an opportunity to see Tim play, as a part of a DMB show or as TR3 or just by himself, I highly recommend it. And who knows, maybe we are all aliens.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Ascending
This blog post from a Mac! Weird computing machines...
Anyway, thinking about something: Why are so many people afraid of classical music? Pop music is accessible to most people, and jazz and blues to a fair extant. However, you have someone listen to a piece of classical music and their eyes glaze over. First off, let's define classical music. Classical is a heading with lots of little subheadings. Classical music, little C, is a broad heading for all music from the "old world" European tradition. This is a collective term for all of those composers that people think of when they hear the term "classical" (i.e. Bach, Beethoven, Brahms [the Big Bs], Mozart, Tchaikovsky, etc.) Under this classical heading is a whole list of subheadings: Usually starting with the Renaissance, then Baroque, then Classical (big C), then Romantic, then Impressionism, and 20th Century. So, when I say "classical" I mean all of that music, as a whole, and many music people are implying the same thing when they talk about classical. Bach is Baroque, Mozart is Classical, Beethoven was a bridge between Classical and Romantic, and Brahms was a Romantic. More on these later, I could go on about this for a while.
Now we have the formalities out of the way, back to the original question: Why are people so afraid of classical music? Most people can identify this kind of music, and most people find it pleasant to listen to, but when asked what composer they are listening to, or what movement of a work, or even what symphony or lieder set they are listening to, most average listeners couldn't answer. Why? Many years ago, I read a great book, that I highly recommend to all music lovers, called The Musical Ascent of Herman Being. The author's name escapes me at the moment, but it's a fascinating look at the answer to this question.
I'd love you all to check into this book and read it yourself, but I'll give you the main idea: repetition and length play a huge part in how we respond to a piece of music. Pop songs are usually short, no more than 4-5 minutes, ideal for radio play and those with short attention spans (the origins of the 4-5 minute cut off has something to do with the history of recording technology, but I'll spare you the details) and they are played repeatedly. Because the songs, let's use Cee Lo's F**K You as an example, are short, catchy and are played a lot, your brain is given time to process and memorize the form and structure. In short, you learn the song really quick. You hear it in the car and sing along, you hear it on your MP3 player as you go for a run, you hear other people singing it, and you can watch it on YouTube without tying up the computer for too long. You may now even be singing F**K You to yourself, now that I've suggested it to you.
Now, let's look at a classical piece, Beethoven's Symphony No. 6 as an example. The movements of this work are longer than 4-5 minutes, and symphonies as a whole generally run longer than 30 minutes. So, it takes some commitment to listen to the whole symphony. With repeated listenings, though, if you can make it through the first few times, you'll start to notice parts of the music starting to become familiar. Maybe you'll start to hum along with parts of the melody and begin to anticipate mood changes. Eventually, you get to the point where you can sing the main melodies and may even have them stuck in your head (you know, like TV and radio commercial jingles that are short, catchy, played incessantly, and stick in your head. Does that formula sound familiar?)
Now go out there and ascend with Mr. Being!!
Anyway, thinking about something: Why are so many people afraid of classical music? Pop music is accessible to most people, and jazz and blues to a fair extant. However, you have someone listen to a piece of classical music and their eyes glaze over. First off, let's define classical music. Classical is a heading with lots of little subheadings. Classical music, little C, is a broad heading for all music from the "old world" European tradition. This is a collective term for all of those composers that people think of when they hear the term "classical" (i.e. Bach, Beethoven, Brahms [the Big Bs], Mozart, Tchaikovsky, etc.) Under this classical heading is a whole list of subheadings: Usually starting with the Renaissance, then Baroque, then Classical (big C), then Romantic, then Impressionism, and 20th Century. So, when I say "classical" I mean all of that music, as a whole, and many music people are implying the same thing when they talk about classical. Bach is Baroque, Mozart is Classical, Beethoven was a bridge between Classical and Romantic, and Brahms was a Romantic. More on these later, I could go on about this for a while.
Now we have the formalities out of the way, back to the original question: Why are people so afraid of classical music? Most people can identify this kind of music, and most people find it pleasant to listen to, but when asked what composer they are listening to, or what movement of a work, or even what symphony or lieder set they are listening to, most average listeners couldn't answer. Why? Many years ago, I read a great book, that I highly recommend to all music lovers, called The Musical Ascent of Herman Being. The author's name escapes me at the moment, but it's a fascinating look at the answer to this question.
I'd love you all to check into this book and read it yourself, but I'll give you the main idea: repetition and length play a huge part in how we respond to a piece of music. Pop songs are usually short, no more than 4-5 minutes, ideal for radio play and those with short attention spans (the origins of the 4-5 minute cut off has something to do with the history of recording technology, but I'll spare you the details) and they are played repeatedly. Because the songs, let's use Cee Lo's F**K You as an example, are short, catchy and are played a lot, your brain is given time to process and memorize the form and structure. In short, you learn the song really quick. You hear it in the car and sing along, you hear it on your MP3 player as you go for a run, you hear other people singing it, and you can watch it on YouTube without tying up the computer for too long. You may now even be singing F**K You to yourself, now that I've suggested it to you.
Now, let's look at a classical piece, Beethoven's Symphony No. 6 as an example. The movements of this work are longer than 4-5 minutes, and symphonies as a whole generally run longer than 30 minutes. So, it takes some commitment to listen to the whole symphony. With repeated listenings, though, if you can make it through the first few times, you'll start to notice parts of the music starting to become familiar. Maybe you'll start to hum along with parts of the melody and begin to anticipate mood changes. Eventually, you get to the point where you can sing the main melodies and may even have them stuck in your head (you know, like TV and radio commercial jingles that are short, catchy, played incessantly, and stick in your head. Does that formula sound familiar?)
Now go out there and ascend with Mr. Being!!
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Links. And Paul Simon!
One of my favourite albums of all time is Paul Simon's Graceland. I love the lyrics, the rhythms, the collaboration with the South African vocal group Ladysmith Black Mambazo, the jumpy bass lines. It also has the hit You Can Call Me Al, a song that, as a kid, I always thought was about the TV show Quantum Leap. (You will remember that there was a character named Al in Quantum Leap, and my family watched this show a lot.)
I now can't hear about Graceland without Simon's voice singing in my head: "I'm going to Graceland, Graceland. Memphis, Tennesee!" This will almost immediately send my head to another song about Memphis, Walking In Memphis, by Marc Cohn. The mention of W.C. Handy and Elvis are wonderfully nostalgic for me, not just because I remember hearing these songs a lot while growing up, but as my musical knowledge grows I get a greater appreciation for them. From my early American music research, Handy is like an old friend to me now.
Also appearing on the album is Linda Ronstadt on the track Under African Skies. Gumboots, the fourth track, is based on a recording of an instrumental of the same name by the Boyoyo Boys. Simon heard it and wrote lyrics over the tune.
I also can't think of Paul Simon without thinking about his Sound Of Silence (the tune with Art Garfunkel, before Simon became a solo act) or an SNL clip I saw of him where he's dressed up like a turkey. It's funny where the mind goes.
I now can't hear about Graceland without Simon's voice singing in my head: "I'm going to Graceland, Graceland. Memphis, Tennesee!" This will almost immediately send my head to another song about Memphis, Walking In Memphis, by Marc Cohn. The mention of W.C. Handy and Elvis are wonderfully nostalgic for me, not just because I remember hearing these songs a lot while growing up, but as my musical knowledge grows I get a greater appreciation for them. From my early American music research, Handy is like an old friend to me now.
Also appearing on the album is Linda Ronstadt on the track Under African Skies. Gumboots, the fourth track, is based on a recording of an instrumental of the same name by the Boyoyo Boys. Simon heard it and wrote lyrics over the tune.
I also can't think of Paul Simon without thinking about his Sound Of Silence (the tune with Art Garfunkel, before Simon became a solo act) or an SNL clip I saw of him where he's dressed up like a turkey. It's funny where the mind goes.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
A joke
No time for a proper post, so here's a joke:
What do you do with a horn player who can't play?
--Take away his horn, give him a couple of sticks and make him a drummer!!
What do you do when he still can't play?
--Take away one of the sticks and make him a conductor!!!!
What do you do when he still can't get it right?
--Take away the stick, make him a choral conductor!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Okay, sorry to any drummers, conductors, or choral leaders I may have offended.
It's still a funny joke.
Peace, yo.
: D
What do you do with a horn player who can't play?
--Take away his horn, give him a couple of sticks and make him a drummer!!
What do you do when he still can't play?
--Take away one of the sticks and make him a conductor!!!!
What do you do when he still can't get it right?
--Take away the stick, make him a choral conductor!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Okay, sorry to any drummers, conductors, or choral leaders I may have offended.
It's still a funny joke.
Peace, yo.
: D
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Let Hugh talk
I have a friend who accuses me of buying all of my music from Starbucks. This isn't true, of course. I have bought a few select CDs from my favourite coffee place. I have found a great compilation of radio music from the 40s, a disc of relaxing French songs, and even a DMB compilation that could only be found at Starbucks. My latest music purchase is from Starbucks, and I may not have found it otherwise, because I hadn't heard about it until coming in last weekend for some tasty coffee and some free WIFI.
Hugh Laurie is one of those terribly gifted people who possess comedic and dramatic acting skills, cunning wit, and musical talent. If you don't know who Hugh is, you aren't paying attention. He is the British actor who plays the acerbic, but effective doctor on the TV show HOUSE. I loved this show from the beginning, and can now only watch it through DVD marathons because I'm never home at normal times to watch TV. Through the magic of Netflix, I was also able to watch Laurie's earlier work as part of the sketch comedy show A Bit of Fry and Laurie (very funny, with the unmatchable Stephen Fry as the Fry of Fry and Laurie) and the duo's turn as Bertie and Jeeves in the British series Jeeves and Wooster (based on another gem, the P.G. Wodehouse's "Jeeves" novel series). The point is, in many of these appearances Laurie can be seen playing a piano or a guitar or singing. Which brings me to the new music I've been listening to. Hugh Laurie has released a blues album called Let Them Talk.
I've listened to it several times, and though his voice, at times, doesn't really lend itself to blues singing, he does it with passion, which makes it endearing. His piano and guitar playing is superb, though, and he has selected a good mix of blues tunes. As I write this I'm listening to his rendition of Police Dog Blues, by Arthur Phelps. I've heard this tune before by a Delta bottleneck guitar player, and Laurie's version lacks fire, but only in the sense that I can actually understand the lyrics. In so many of the older recordings I listen to of blues men singing, the words sometimes get buried in the rhythm or the guitar or the singer just isn't enunciating enough. In many ways, I prefer this. I like some dust in my blues. To me that seems more authentic.
I do like many of the tracks on this disc. I had never really had an interest in St. James Infirmary, but I do now. Laurie's piano playing is wonderfully clean, precise, and, for lack of a better phrase, hits just the right notes. You Don't Know My Mind really caught my ear, and the tunes Tipitina, Buddy Bolden's Blues, and They're Red Hot are great fun. What strikes me most is Laurie's admittance that he is a "white, middle-class Englishman, openly trespassing on the music and myth of the American south," but he does it with more love and devotion than many other musicians I've heard. He truly loves the music and has obviously taken steps to see that it is treated with the due reverence.
He is a successful actor, releasing a blues album for no other reason than that he loves to do it. He doesn't need the money (not that there is a lot of money anymore in blues music), nor the recognition (he's on TV every week), and the album wasn't heavily publicised. And, if it turns on more listeners to the music of that time in American music history, I do consider the album a success.
Hugh Laurie is one of those terribly gifted people who possess comedic and dramatic acting skills, cunning wit, and musical talent. If you don't know who Hugh is, you aren't paying attention. He is the British actor who plays the acerbic, but effective doctor on the TV show HOUSE. I loved this show from the beginning, and can now only watch it through DVD marathons because I'm never home at normal times to watch TV. Through the magic of Netflix, I was also able to watch Laurie's earlier work as part of the sketch comedy show A Bit of Fry and Laurie (very funny, with the unmatchable Stephen Fry as the Fry of Fry and Laurie) and the duo's turn as Bertie and Jeeves in the British series Jeeves and Wooster (based on another gem, the P.G. Wodehouse's "Jeeves" novel series). The point is, in many of these appearances Laurie can be seen playing a piano or a guitar or singing. Which brings me to the new music I've been listening to. Hugh Laurie has released a blues album called Let Them Talk.
I've listened to it several times, and though his voice, at times, doesn't really lend itself to blues singing, he does it with passion, which makes it endearing. His piano and guitar playing is superb, though, and he has selected a good mix of blues tunes. As I write this I'm listening to his rendition of Police Dog Blues, by Arthur Phelps. I've heard this tune before by a Delta bottleneck guitar player, and Laurie's version lacks fire, but only in the sense that I can actually understand the lyrics. In so many of the older recordings I listen to of blues men singing, the words sometimes get buried in the rhythm or the guitar or the singer just isn't enunciating enough. In many ways, I prefer this. I like some dust in my blues. To me that seems more authentic.
I do like many of the tracks on this disc. I had never really had an interest in St. James Infirmary, but I do now. Laurie's piano playing is wonderfully clean, precise, and, for lack of a better phrase, hits just the right notes. You Don't Know My Mind really caught my ear, and the tunes Tipitina, Buddy Bolden's Blues, and They're Red Hot are great fun. What strikes me most is Laurie's admittance that he is a "white, middle-class Englishman, openly trespassing on the music and myth of the American south," but he does it with more love and devotion than many other musicians I've heard. He truly loves the music and has obviously taken steps to see that it is treated with the due reverence.
He is a successful actor, releasing a blues album for no other reason than that he loves to do it. He doesn't need the money (not that there is a lot of money anymore in blues music), nor the recognition (he's on TV every week), and the album wasn't heavily publicised. And, if it turns on more listeners to the music of that time in American music history, I do consider the album a success.
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