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Jason Crawford
We dove into one of Jerry Joseph’s recent releases at this very site just last month. Therein, I likened keyboardist Jay Gonzalez’s playing as “a tablespoon of fizzy candy” in the other players’ steel cut oats. Luckily for us, he’s also the bubble gum scented air freshener in the Drive By-Truckers’ road tested 18-wheeler of love. And it’s been that way for years. By now, he has to have eclipsed the longest tenure of anyone ever in that band that was not named “Hood” or “Cooley” or “Morgan.” It seemed like an unlikely marriage at first, but these genius ruffians found a way to make it roll right away. Also, luckily for us, Gonzalez unfurls sheets and sheets of his mellow gold, hook-heavy super-pop under his own name occasionally. And he did that a few weeks ago by releasing Back To The Hive into the great wide open. Hopefully, we don’t have to wait another seven long years for the next one. Because this is the stuff, y’all. What the world needs now is another Pop singer, as it turns out.
Jay’s a Swiss Army knife of an instrumentalist as evidenced by his playing all manner of keyboards and synths on Hive. And also, bass, guitar, Spanish guitar, drums, autoharp, and harmonica. Etcetera. Four of the album’s eleven ditties involve just Jay and another player. One is just Jay, and none of the other six involve more than two other accompanists. But there are a gazillion summery sounds to explore and to luxuriate in. “(I Wanna) Hold You” is perhaps the quintessential Jay Gonzalez performance. The picnic-on-a-sunny-day-with-no-humidity melody and the simple syrup lyrics see to that. “Crying Through the Wall” provides a Springsteen-grade level of wistfulness and wanting with a dose of operatic Orbison to get the full effect across. “You Make It Hard (To Be Unhappy)” finds Gonzalez harmonizing with his musical foil of many years, Chris Grehan, over a seriously strummed six strings with a melodic sound for added stickiness. “Deep Sea Diver” is a law-abiding rocker that benefits from John Neff’s pedal steel prowess while “Loons On a Lake” is a brilliant instrumental that finds Jay harmonizing with himself over a prodding and piercing desert Western electric guitar line.
Back To The Hive is a stock representative of a high-grade independent release. There was almost certainly no advanced money handed down from the label for artwork, promotion, or tape. I’d imagine that Jay and his team handled the bulk of the recording, mixing, and mastering themselves. And no matter who’s responsible, the ball was knocked squarely out of the park like a ball off of Freddy Freeman’s magic bat. All of the instruments are precisely placed across the soundstage, which is wider than it is deep. The bass tones are especially accessible while the electric piano sounds are warm and alive. They serve as the spoonful of sugar to help the fuzz-toned guitars go down. The whole sound sort of washes over you like sunshine.
Back To The Hive will make you want to gather up your partner, and go for a drive with the top down, doggie hanging its head out the window with the wind blowing its cheeks so that all the children laugh. Seriously. It’s that much fun. This is a homegrown affair, but it sounds far from what one would expect out of a “local” release. Much of the recording was done in Athens, Georgia with some of that town’s best and longest tenured players. Then, the album itself was pressed a couple of blocks away at Kindercore, which is easily my favorite of the world’s newer pressing plants. I’ve never gotten my hands on a bad one that they did, and Back To The Hive is no exception. It’s exceptional though. World-class melodies, playing, writing, and production. Put it in your ears and try not to smile. Just like that doggie in the window.
Some friends were in town recently, and we were looking for something to do. On a whim, we decided to go catch Kassa Overall’s early show at the SFJazz Center without ever having heard the first note of his work. Best decision I’ve made in years. Maybe ever. The show was a head nodding event to the point of neck fatigue. I purchased Overall’s I Think I’m Good in the lobby immediately afterwards, then went to have my neck looked at. I’d like to mention this right at the jump: I was thinking the album title was about the funniest one I’d heard of in a while, then I read Overall’s liners on the back cover, and he’s pretty open about some of his mental health struggles and how I Think I’m Good ties in. I salute him for sharing at least a glimpse of his story, and I celebrate the general trend towards more openness with regards to these types of issues and experiences. I think it will help others to feel less alone, and I hope the dialogue continues. The world will be a better place for it.
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I Think I’m Good is a lot. It offers the head-nod experience at times too, but is also expansive, explorative, and meandering in all the best ways. It plays like a happy child moving through their toy chest, picking up various action figures before discarding them to create new scenes with different characters. Every four minutes or so. It makes for an engaging listen, but not an especially restorative or relaxing one. Listening to Good requires exertion on the listener’s part. It’s dense and layered, even when it’s laid back.
There are a million different instruments in use at any given point within Overall’s grooves. The album opener, “Visible Walls,” involves a harp, a bass clarinet, and a bansuri flute amongst the more traditional instruments. It becomes obvious immediately that the auto-tuner will be in attendance, and it is used liberally throughout the album’s runtime. “Please Don’t Kill Me” benefits from some tasty vibes work and a prodding flugelhorn. And a voicemail from Dr. Angela Davis is instrumental to “Show Me a Prison.” (Overall was a collaborator, along with Davis, on one of Terri Lyne Carrington’s recent releases. I’d say that if Carrington is inviting you to play drums on her record, you’re doing alright for yourself. You’d be right to think you’re good.)
I Think I’m Good is Free Jazz, Straight Jazz, and a new slant on Hip-Hop – all rolled into one giant spliff of sonic exploration. The Hip-Hop influence is felt mostly through the beats, but there are rhymes and verses too. And the Jazz is not suggested or alluded to as was the case in the arranged marriages of the early ‘90s by bands like A Tribe Called Quest or Digable Planets. On I Think I’m Good, Jazz is the thing, and Rap/Hip-Hop is implied. But that’s not all. Call now, and you’ll also get “Darkness In Mind,” which starts as a modern Rhythm and Blues piano ballad with vocals before shifting into a section with hard street beats, then more balladry, then more beats. So, yeah. No rest for the weary. You gotta stay on your toes. Dance around the ring, try not to get caught flat-footed by any number of wild hooks that the drummer/rapper/producer might throw at you. I mean, Good can easily be enjoyed with friends as background grooves. It’ll keep the energy positive and upbeat. But it really rewards multiple focused listens. Every time I think I’ve got a handle on it, something new jumps out at me and I have to rethink my position all over again. That’s what is commonly referred to, in the business, as “art.”
This one was pressed at Optimal, but there are some ticks in my copy, which is odd. I wonder if perhaps the issues are as a result of damage in transit as opposed to an issue with the stamper or Optimal’s processes. The band appeared to be traveling light. I think they must have flown in from NYC specifically for the occasion, and I’m imagining their merch being stashed in carry-on luggage or something similar. It’s a shame, one way or the other, but it’ll also give me a chance to support Overall further by purchasing a second copy. I feel that strongly about it. If you’re looking for something new, Kassa Overall’s got you covered. Check it out and hear for yourself.
I searched until the ends of the earth to find a copy of Source by Nubya Garcia earlier this year. I eventually purchased it online from a behemoth and have had trouble sleeping ever since. Now it looks like the album is readily available again, and you don’t have to do business with the Waltons to get a copy. (Shuts laptop, sprints to the shower to wash off the stench, breaks toe on the way back through the walk-in closet as a cosmic reprimand from the Universe.) But we’re not here to discuss Source. We’re here for its cousin, Source + We Move. The oft-dreaded “remix album.”
The newer record is, according to my calculations, only the second such album that I’ve added to my collection. (The first is Garvey’s Ghost, a brilliant Dub-influenced remix of Burning Spear’s also brilliant Marcus Garvey album.) And, as much as I loved Source, I think I might get even more out of Source + We Move. Each remix features the work of a different producer, but the names don’t mean anything to me. Not sure if they all hail from a certain scene or if it’s a disparate lot of creators from all over. But I do know that Garcia has been mining these same songs for some time now. I picked up a remix EP for Record Store Day earlier this year (doesn’t count, not an actual album) that features some of the same songs, but none of the same versions or producers featured on Source + We Move. I don’t point this out as a means of being critical. I think that Garcia is just getting all of the juice out of the fruits of her undoubtedly considerable labor. The songs are strong enough to carry multiple releases. As evidenced by my having purchased every one.
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Despite having to drag around the “remix” label, Source + We Move is actually the more concise work. It fits onto a single disc. The runtimes are shorter than the ones on Source with nary a song topping the six-minute mark on the newer work. Which is counterintuitive to me, and a welcome surprise. The “Boundless Beings” remix puts you right in the lounge drinking craft cocktails and water enhanced with electrolytes. You can nod along without intrusion from the “broken beat” stutters that are so prevalent in much of today’s Jazz. And on much of this album. Whereas “Pace” opened Source, it closes +We Move. The newer take presents with a chill intro, then the stuttering beats behind an insistent single-note piano with Garcia’s languid lines above it all. The original led with the stuttering beats from the start with Garcia’s playing featured more prominently throughout, and with greater emphasis on her band’s unity and cohesion. There are two new versions of “La Cumbia Me Está Llamando” on We Move. The first opens the album with some spacey textures that will soon solidify in support of Garcia’s lines. The original’s tribal beats are electrified here, and a Rhodes-style piano features prominently. The second starts with hand drums and chanting, then a propulsive bass line, then Garcia’s playing buried a little deeper in the mix with vocalists featured up front. The versions of “Inner Game” might be the most wildly polar between the two releases. The original is almost eight minutes in length, and it begins with acoustic drums, some piano, and Garcia’s solo work. The remix is all of 90 seconds long, then some a cappella vocals and chanting, then a shaker, then some whacky beats, and that’s it. It’s hard for me to hear how it relates to the original at all. Not that I’m complaining. I like both versions just fine. You might also.
As was the case with the Source material, the bass is especially prominent and strong, but also balanced and properly placed. It’s far from overwhelming, and also impossible to miss. Source + We Move was pressed at GZ in their Czech Republic facility, but don’t be afraid. This is an example of their better work. But hopefully not their best. There is a brief passage with some distortion and fuzz during the opener. The rest is mostly flat and silent. Source + We Move should satisfy a focused listen at home or in a club. I could listen all day, and I’m looking forward to what Garcia does next. Or what she revisits next, as the case may be.