NEIL AND HORSE GIVE OLD SONGS NEW LIFE

AMERICANA

Neil Young and Crazy Horse

Even though Americana features old folk songs Neil Young himself did not write, the way he plays them with Crazy Horse make them rock as hard as any of his best.

           

Out of the eleven songs on the album, five or six in particular stand out. I consider that an amazing ratio, because some great bands have only one or two songs worth repeatedly hearing on a given album. If you gravitate toward “Powderfinger,” “Cortez the Killer,” and “Love and Only Love” for the power-groove that Neil and only Neil gets, and only with Crazy Horse, you’ll understand exactly what I mean.

           

Frank Sampedro’s rhythm guitar, Billy Talbot’s bass, and Ralph Molina’s drums form the signature sound with Neil’s lead guitar and earnest nasal vocals that unearth “Oh Susannah” and “Clementine” and send them hiking up their skirts and dancing away on fresh legs.

          

 It would be a dandy of an album to have on vinyl. Nice cover with what looks like Neil and the boys’ faces superimposed over four Native Americans posing in a car about a hundred-plus years ago. I couldn’t find online whether one of those guys is Crazy Horse, but I did find that the cover design comes from Tom Wilkes, who did covers for the Rolling Stones and George Harrison, among others. Died three years ago, turns out.

           

The last time Neil put out an album with Crazy Horse was 2003's Greendale. That’s a noble project with fantastic songs, but the songs don’t have that Crazy Horse sound. (I think Frank might have skipped out on that one, actually, which would account for things entirely.)

           

The best Neil and Crazy Horse album prior to this one, Ragged Glory came out at a time when, looking back on it, Neil was in his prime, and yet even that album was considered some kind of comeback because he’d played on stage with Pearl Jam and showed everybody how it’s done.

           

Here he’s done it again. Except no Pearl Jam, of course, for many years now. “Travel On,” “High Flyin’ Bird,” “Jesus’ Chariot"--listening to Neil make a song his own is like watching Bruce Lee put together parts of different martial arts and making something more.

           

Increasingly, rock stars are becoming like Jedi knights. Which is to say that more and more we’re getting less and less. The kid that I talked to at the record store had actually never even heard of Neil Young. Probably ditto with Jedi knights. But that’s okay with me. I’ve never once watched an episode of “American Idol.”

DYLAN'S "TEMPEST" A NEW BEST

Bob Dylan’s thirty-fifth studio album offers an upbeat old-time blues and bluegrass-sound, and deals with themes of death with fierce grace.

           

The gravelly growl of the voice of experience, ragged, resonant, and reference-rich. Dylan’s double-entendre-laden and cracked, sardonic whispers roll by in couplets tumbleweed-like.

           

On recognizing the “forests of the night” allusion to William Blake’s “The Tyger,” glee scarcely contained.

           

The beer garden rhythm of the album’s namesake (and yes, I still call them namesakes) can’t help but slosh invisible upraised steins—for almost fourteen minutes! Though the lyrics concern the oft-dredged, always applicable disaster of The Titanic, the sound just says good times.

           

The second song, “Soon After Midnight,” is, at three minutes and twenty-eight seconds, the shortest and the sweetest of the bunch. “Scarlet Town” features banjos, bluegrass, and—like all of the ten songs on Tempest—plenty of focus on the words.

           

Then again, compare “Early Roman Kings” with Muddy Waters’ “Mannish Boy” and hear in the unmistakable beat Bob’s homage to the great blues legend. He’s that old guy now.

           

Haunting and hypnotic, “Tin Angel” paves the way for “Roll On John,” Dylan’s ode to John Lennon.

           

“Tempest” is not a depressing album at all. Neither is it his jauntiest. Even if you’ve never heard of the guy, hey, it’s at least decent background music. 

           

“We cried on a cold and frosty morn,” says the guy who wrote “Blowin’ in the Wind” in his patented nasal sandpaper hiss. “We cried because our souls were torn / So much for these tears / So much for these long and wasted years.” Baby Boomers take note: Bob makes being 71 hip.

           

To be sure, Blonde On Blonde is still his best studio album. And he’s got some that I don’t think even he can stand.

           

But Tempest ranks high, even calling to mind Shakespeare’s play of the same name. Prospero-like, the venerable poet pulls together veritable strands right out of his career, so to speak.

           

And behold, a marvel!

NEW VAN HALEN RINGS TRUE

 

 

          

Van Halen, with David Lee Roth, has a new album out that’s just as good as their best.

           

We’ve been waiting twenty-eight years for this album.

           

And it’s totally worth it!

           

The only dude missing from the picture is the only expendable one, really. Michael Anthony hooked up with Sammy Hagar and Joe Satriani to form Chickenfoot, so Eddie Van Halen’s wee bairn Wolfgang plays bass, instead. I don’t know that Wolf plays hugely better that Michael Anthony, but he’s definitely at least as good.

          

 A Different Kind of Truth boasts thirteen songs, twelve of which are fast enough and loud enough to compare favorably alongside the Ramones. Like a fine cheese, Van Halen has only sharpened with age.

           

“Tattoo,” “You and Your Blues,” “Blood and Fire,” and “As Is” all stand out in particular as examples of what’s missing in rock n’ roll today. In an age when most of what is called new music is actually mere dancing, Van Halen’s having a blast.

           

Their first album, plus Women and Children First and Fair Warning, form the band’s core body of work. The second album has some weak spots, as does Diver Down–“Happy Trails” exemplifies the kind of filler that took them in a wrong direction–and {1984} uses too much synthesizer. Those are all good albums. But A Different Kind of Truth ranks right up there with their top material.

           

No pics of the group when you buy the CD. Apparently they don’t want to be accused of packing aging in the packaging. But they do include the lyrics, now. They never used to do that.

           

“Big River” mentions Credence Clearwater Revival and Tina Turner. “You and Your Blues” refers specifically to the Rolling Stones’ “19^th Nervous Breakdown.” Listen to “Stay Frosty,” which is the one sort of comparatively subdued track, and see if you hear a taste of Led Zep’s “Friends,” off their third album.

          

 That’s right. I’d like you to see if you can hear a taste.

           

Hey, blame it on spring. It’s in the air--getting drowned-out by Van Halen!

"WOLFMAN" HOWLING SUCCESS

THE WOLFMAN

Starring Benicio Del Toro,

Anthony Hopkins,

Emily Blunt,

Art Malik,

Hugo Weaving,

Geraldine Chaplin

Directed by Joe Johnston

Written by Andrew Kevin Walker and David Self

Based on a screenplay by Curt Siodmak

Running time 102 mins.

Rated R

           

A visual Gothic feast on par with Bram Stoker’s Dracula and Sleepy Hollow.

           

The filmmakers of this re-make of the 1941 original have definitely done their homework, and the payoff is the richness of Gothicism in which this film is steeped. Anytime you get a movie that looks like a character has stepped right out of Friedrich’s Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog, or big Piranesi-esque wheels that turn the machinery of torture, consider that baby steeped. Steeped real good.

           

The big problem with werewolves is that there’s never been a really great story. The closest iconic character in literature is probably Mr. Hyde, by virtue of wild loss of control after transformation, and the release of repressed impulses. And elements of Mr. Hyde do come through in roundabout fashion. Yet, what the filmmakers lack in literary grist, they make up for in atmosphere and cinematography.

           

Upshot: Lawrence Talbot (Del Toro), an actor traveling through England in 1891, visits his ancestral family estate on the news of his brother’s death, and there in the company of his father (Hopkins), learns of a ghastly legend which seems to also be a family curse.

          

 It’s the werewolf movie horror fans have long been waiting for. The only real downside is the werewolves.

           

Yeah, it would kind of be better if we didn’t have to see them. That would be the bold move, of course. Limiting the special effects might seem at first like a cheap copout, but the thing with horror is primarily atmosphere. And that’s this film’s strong suit. By the time the film devolves to requisite open werewolfness, it’s already done its job anyway.

           

The question is, what do they keep from the Lon Chaney, Jr., original, and what do they chuck? Not to give too much away, but I think they make good choices. Main character names, the “Even a man who is pure of heart” lines, some telescopes, a discussion of Lycanthropy, a few other odd bits.

           

And great casting. You can’t do better than Anthony Hopkins. Benicio Del Toro’s perfect at the brooding, although it’s Lon Chaney, Sr., who he looks like.

           

The original does have its detractions. When Lon, Jr., first changes, he strips down to a white tank top ‘cause he feels all itchy and wants to see what’s going on, but then when we see him out in the misty woods, suddenly he’s got a dark long-sleeved shirt buttoned up. Oops.

           

This one, however, is, in fine, a slickly conceived Gothic package, complete with creepy crumbling estate, haunted with murder, mystery and madness. While it lacks the black humor of Sleepy Hollow, and the fullness of story in Bram Stoker’s Dracula, strong visuals commensurate to the casting do give The Wolfman real teeth.

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"STRANGE" ULTIMATE DOORS FLICK

WHEN YOU’RE STRANGE

Starring Jim Morrison,

Ray Manzarek,

Robbie Krieger,

John Densmore,

Johnny Depp (narration)

Written and directed by Tom DiCillo

Running time 86 mins.

  

           

There’s a rusty old car in a desert that looks like it’s stuck in a ditch. Through the shattered windows of the tilted machine we see a form move. The door opens up at an angle, and out pops Jim Morrison.

           

Yes, Jim Morrison. Fresh from the days of color, in the flesh, and larger than life, long-haired and leather-clad, thumb out by the road. That’s no actor playing Jim, it’s the real Lizard King himself, radiating mojo. He had gone out in the desert one day with a friend and shot some film for an idea he had about a hitchhiker.

           

It’s just some of the footage we’ve never seen before in what is far and away the ultimate film source of, to put it mildly, one of the greatest bands ever. True, When You’re Strange, beautifully written and directed by Tom DiCillo, did not come out this year, but rather in 2009. However, nobody told me. And hey, look, checking the old wristwatch we see now it’s forty years since the Doors. In April of ‘71 they released “L.A. Woman,” and a few months later, that July, Jim died in Paris.

           

A large part of what makes this movie work so jaw-droppingly well is the fine narration by Johnny Depp. Perfect guy for the job. But the narration would be nothing if it wasn’t so stunningly written.

           

For example, the music of the Doors is “music for the different, the uninvited. It carries the listener into the shadowy world of dream.” Sweet. And then there’s: “The organ carries a hint of the carnival, both child-like, and darkly disturbing.” Ahhh. Nice.

           

Mostly though what we get is the fullest picture we’ve ever seen of Jim. For one thing, portrait of a dude havin’ a ball. I got the feeling reading No One Here Gets Out Alive thirty years ago that Jim Morrison hardly ever smiled. I recall a caption to a photo saying something like, “A rare one of Jim smiling.” Well there’s an important piece of inaccuracy. One thing that sticks in my mind from the film is Jim’s incredibly infectious smile. Like when he steps off a plane and someone with a camera says, “Name?” He goes, “Uh...Jim.” Then, “Occupation?” And he just sort of looks at the camera with this mischievous grin that cracks me up thinking about it.

           

As much as I enjoy hearing whatever Ray Manzarek, Robbie Krieger and John Densmore have to say today, I think it’s a terrific choice not to include them sitting down talking about “the old days.” We get the insightful narration, but we also get to really feel the life of what’s going on at the time. Mostly, what’s going on is Jim. The music is so different, so original and pure, it’s as fresh today as it ever was. When You’re Strange fantastically covers the whole Doors story.

           

“I think that in the States these days,” quoth Jim with a languid tilt of the head to his tone, “you have to be a politician or an assassin to really be a superstar.” 

           

He always was ahead of his time. Now, in the Year of the Door, we’re just beginning to catch up.