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Monthly Archives: April 2008

Celebrate

Today is National Record Store Day – get out and celebrate! Of course the official website is down (at 11:40 EST), but any excuse to go to a record store is a welcome one. For those in the northeast U.S. who have Newbury Comics stores, they’re having a nice sale on used CDs and DVDs, and of course discounted new vinyl, though their selection is limited and pricey. I snagged some Madeleine Peyroux today (Careless Love and Half the Perfect World), and while I was there I also got a copy of Força bruta by Jorge Ben.

The Mighty Cachao

I’ve recently and yet all too late been introduced to Israel “Cachao” López, the credited inventor of the musical tradition of mambo who passed away this past week. His Master Takes, Vol. I, a recent gift from some friends pegged my musical sensibility perfectly, as the strange allure of Cuban music done in Jazz is seductive and intense. There’s something melancholy about the whining violins that seem to speak volumes about a shared condition of people whose culture, while rich, has not seen much more than heartbreak within their short history.

Regardless, the music is beautiful and I am grateful to have been introduced to Mr López at all, despite not having had the chance to celebrate him in life.

And Then There Was

Once in awhile, my aimless wanderings lead me somewhere meaningful. Today, it led to me to the used M rack at my local record shop, where my normally quick flipping fingers stopped abruptly on the sight of this album – The Word. The Word is a group and an album and a concept, comprised of the talents of John Medeski, Robert Randolph, and the North Mississippi Allstars. It was a record on my list of Ones that Got Away, and I have never seen or heard it before now.

But I have to say that it was, well, worth the wait. This is my first non-bootleg from Robert Randolph or NMA, and I dig just about everything I’ve heard. No one does a steel lap guitar funkier than Robert Randolph, and here once again he’s setting the church tent on fire. If you stumble across it, don’t hesitate. This is music with a high purpose, done Southern style.

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