Elvis Presley.
Elvis. A musician that represents a generation and more. Listening to his debut album, Elvis Presley, one is overwhelmed with images of 1950s America. A demure blonde girl and a rebellious greaser guy driving a Chevrolet to the local diner, sharing a milkshake before doing the twist. Good old fashioned, wholesome rock ‘n’ roll. The American Dream. The romanticised golden age of the USA. Take a step back however and some cracks begin to appear. All of the tracks on the album are covers of songs written by other musicians, the likes of Ray Charles and Little Richard, even the synonymous Elvis track “Blue Suede Shoes” was written and recorded in 1955 by Carl Perkins. The Ray Charles penned “I Got a Woman” features lyrics of a misogynistic nature that was commonplace at the time, further providing a different vision to the “Make America Great Again” post World War II era. Maybe it’s just my cynical nature trying to pick holes in it, since it was an enjoyable record; the tracks alternate between slow acoustic ballads such as “I’m Counting on You” and “I Love You Because”, and the unique rhythmic sounds of rockabilly that send the feet tapping and pelvis gyrating.
Ellington at Newport.
I am by no means an authority on jazz, more a part-time enthusiast, but I know what I like; and I like this. To me, jazz is the most human genre of music, it represents unpredictability, freedom and expression; all of which resonate throughout Duke Ellington’s live album recorded at the Newport Jazz Festival in July 1956. The instruments dance around the mind, fighting for attention, a sonic firework display. The style of jazz shifts during the album, from the excitable, upbeat euphoria of “Festival Junction”, to the smoother, bluer (as the title suggests) “Blues to Be There”, back to energetic restlessness on “Newport Up”, back again to cooler tones on “Jeep’s Blues”, before an amalgamation of the two styles on the 15-minute epic “Diminuendo and Crescendo in Blue”. Ellington at Newport is a masterpiece performed by supremely talented musicians and arranged by one of the masters of the genre on his return to the top.
Songs for Swingin’ Lovers!
There’s something about the swelling of the swing band, the occasional crescendo of brass and Frank Sinatra’s serenading golden tones that causes my mood to take a sharp upturn. As the title suggests, the majority of the tracks on Songs for Swingin’ Lovers! are love songs, with Sinatra crooning about the intoxicating, addictive effect the subject of his desires has on him; she’s too marvellous for words, under his skin and makes him feel so young. There are a few exceptions however, with the likes of “It Happened in Monterey” and “Swingin’ Down the Lane” reflecting on past romances with regret, the entirely off topic “Makin’ Whoopee” warns grooms-to-be about marriage and “Pennies from Heaven” teaches of coping with setbacks in life and learning from them. The UK’s first ever number one album, Songs for Swingin’ Lovers! is filled with the upbeat, swinging jazz that’s guaranteed to raise your spirits.
Three Ragas.
The sitar is possibly the instrument most heavily linked with spirituality due to the ethereal tones it produces. Ravi Shankar’s mastery of this meditative noise-maker, along with the accompanying hypnotic tabla, create an atmosphere of reflective contemplativeness that dares to transcend the medium of music. My only previous (serious) experience with Indian music was Ry Cooder and Vishwa Mohan Bhatt’s blues fusion record A Meeting at the River, that I covered back in week 1; Three Ragas is a more traditional piece of Hindustani music and serves a wonderful introduction to this world. In some ways, there has been another form of Indian music that I’ve heard before, that being The Beatles’ “Within You Without You”; the man himself, Ravi Shankar, served as a mentor for George Harrison during its composition, in a time that would profoundly shape the rest of Harrison’s life and work. Given the exceptional talent Shankar demonstrates on the 28-minute marathon “Raga Jog”, it’s no surprise that Harrison would want to learn from the very best. Beautiful. Calming. Spiritual. I expected nothing less from a Ravi Shankar album.
Pithecanthropus Erectus.
I’m going to repeat myself here: I don’t know jazz but I like this; although with every album I feel my knowledge of the genre is growing. Pithecanthropus Erectus is regarded as Charles Mingus’ breakthrough album, serving as his first major work as both bandleader and composer. Mingus’ composition on the record is rather innovative in that he wrote the songs with the musicians in mind without writing the arrangements down. The result is an ambitious jazz sound, manifested in particular in the title track. Intended as a tone poem, Jackie McLean’s alto, JR Monterose’s tenor and Mal Waldon’s piano are given solo themed sections to follow, kept on track by Mingus’ bass and Willie Jones’ drums. These sections then give way to unstructured, chaotic improvisations representing the destruction of a foolish man whose kingdom is built on the enslaving of others, upon their emancipation. Ambitious, provocative and though-provoking. A truly great record.
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