December 2006
Celtic Woman – “A Christmas Celebration
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Celtic Woman A Christmas Celebration Soundtrack 3.5 out of 5 stars Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson |
I know what you’re thinking. If I hear one more #!!!**&%! Christmas song I’m going to run over my CD player with a reindeer. If you’re ready for something different, something that won’t insult your intelligence, and still manages to capture the spirit of the holidays, tell Santa to slip “A Christmas Celebration” by Celtic Woman into your stocking. Although it occasionally gives off a staid Catholic vibe that will make you feel like you’re sitting in a pew in St. Patrick’s Cathedral for Sunday mass, the blend of classically trained musicians and crystalline voices gives the CD a polished, professional sound. David Downes’ production is rich without being overbearing, leaving the voices of the featured soloists to float along gracefully over the letter-perfect arrangements.
The Players
Celtic Woman is directed by producer/arranger/composer Downes and is comprised of four willowy singers, Lisa Kelly, Chloe Agnew, Orla Fallon and Meav Ni Mhaolchatha, and features the versatile fiddle solos of Maired Nesbitt.
Although they may not be household names in America, the members of Celtic Woman have impressive resumes. David Downes has worked with Clannad, James Galway, Bonnie Tyler, Charlotte Church and young singing sensation Chloe, among others. Lisa Kelly has an extensive background in musical theatre, where she started at age seven, and has played significant roles in many successful productions, including “Chicago,” “Chess,” “Oklahoma” and “Grease.” An international star, Meav Ni Mhaolchatha has performed at the Celtic Festival in Tokyo, the Beo Festival of Irish Music in Dublin, and at Korean World Cup celebrations. Fluent in Gaelic, she has sung with a wide variety of performers, working with Elvis Costello, The Chieftans, and two of Ireland’s most prestigious choirs, Anuna and the National Chamber Choir. Singer and harpist Orla Fallon has toured extensively in Europe and America, performing her own original compositions alongside renditions of traditional Irish melodies. Like her fellow soloists, Fallon has performed with Traditional/New Age legends Clannad. Sixteen year-old Chloe Agnew comes from a rich musical background. Her father David Agnew and mother Adele “Twink” King were both successful performers and Chloe sang on her mother’s T.V. show at the age of six. She recorded her first full-length CD a year later and released her second recording at age fourteen. A former All-Ireland fiddle champion, Mairead Nesbitt began playing at the age of six, combing the contrasting styles of classical music and traditional music. She has worked with a diverse roster of mainstream artists including Van Morrison, Sinead O’Connor, Clannad, Emmylou Harris, Jimmy Webb and Chris De Burgh.
The Songs
The CD opens strongly with “Oh Holy Night,” featuring all five soloists. The voices wrap themselves around David Downes’ properly climatic, lush arrangement, and Nesbitt’s fiddle soars into areas that only dogs can normally hear without being annoying, a feat unto itself.
“Away in the Manger” sung in a lilting voice by Orin Fallon, combines traditional Irish music with a trace of New Age mystique. Des Moore lends a flamenco style guitar solo that stops short of conjuring up Esteban.
Celtic Woman’s version of “White Christmas” is homey, serene, and sedate, performed in the non-confrontational style of the King family. Each singer takes a verse, then the four voices join together like a quiet corporate takeover. The soft arrangement focuses on Downes, who so deftly incorporates the melody for “Over the Rainbow” into the background that you may not even notice.
“Silent Night,” sung in Gaelic by Meav Ni Mhaolchatha has a rougher edge than it was probably intended to convey, but it’s the Irish Film Orchestra’s hushed accompaniment and Mairead Nesbitt’s weepy Toscanini-toned fiddle soloing that make this traditional take so unique.
“Christmas Pipes” is the CD’s standout track, with a multi-layered, rich sound very reminiscent of Clannad. (And why not? You’ll recall that Downes, Fallon and Nesbitt have all worked with the best-selling group.) Combine Nick Baily’s subtle, eddying percussion with an angelic chorus weaving in “Oh Holy Night” and the mythic whisper of John O’Brien on Uilleann pipes, and you’ve got a song you’ll want to listen to over and over again.
Trying to top or even draw even with the popularity of one of the songs that defines the holiday season is usually a no win situation, especially if the song is Nat King Cole’s iconic “White Christmas.” (Even the version voiced by its composer, Mel Torme, pales next to Cole’s). Lisa Kelly occasionally over sings it a bit, (she is after all a stage singer) but her theatrics are counterbalanced by the child-like innocence and sense of wonder she manages to convey throughout her performance.
Christmas comes to Camelot in “Carol of the Belles.” Predominately an instrumental showcase for Mairead Nesbitt’s unique blend of classical and modern soloing, there are plenty of sleigh bells, happy ding-dings and ring-ting-a-lings sung in the background in this spirited, Renaissance period performance.
Harmonizing acapella on “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.,” the ladies bring to mind the wholesome harmonies of the Lemmon Sisters, who were just a smidgen breezier than the jolly, but rigid King Family. The sparse production focuses attention on the singer tight, interwoven vocals and Nesbitt’s sentimental solo.
“Panis Angelicus” voiced by Chloe Agnew, and “Domn Oiche Ud Mbeithil” with Agnew and Meav Ni Mhaolchatha, pay homage to the singer’s Gaelic roots (and justify the CD’s title). Although “Mbeithil” has a melody similar to the theme from “The Godfather,” it also features the talents of harpist Andreja Malir, who has plenty of pluck (sorry). Malir‘s airy accompaniment sets the song’s serene tone, and Nesbitt solos with unadorned beauty and grace.
The full orchestra returns for “O Come All Ye Faithful.” It’s a polite, proper version, so much so, you can picture the singers with their hands crossed perfectly in front of themselves. This is Celtic meets Catholic, complete with peeling bells and a massive choral group. It’s impressive in its scope, and all the musicians, singers and members of the chorus sound attuned to the same Christmas muse.
“The Little Drummer Boy” is an interesting anomaly. There have been a zillion versions of this chestnut, but few as bizarre as this one, which starts of with what sounds like a convention of Druids lost in a fog searching for Stonehenge. So the little drummer boy was a Druid? Who knew? It’s the type of left field performance that might grow on you after a few listens.
There are few performances that are iffy, and most are attempts to take Celtic Woman’s sound outside the Christmas box. “Ding Dong Merrily On High” has the members of the Aontas Choral Ensemble taking a prominent role, but with a full ensemble and the four vocalists occupying the same space the voices do run a bit amuck, sliding up and down the scale like a runaway toboggan. Sometimes too much of a good thing is simply too much.
There’s only one song that’s a complete fiasco. Too bad it’s a “bonus” track and the CDs closing number. “Let it Snow” sticks out like a rotting carrot on a melting snowman. This is Celtic woman meets the Rat Pack, Vegas invades Ireland. The ladies have too much class to pull this off – they’re not Dean Martin’s Goldiggers or The Spice Girls, although the obnoxious horn section tries very hard to make you think they are. And because she has to be part of the finale Nesbitt is thrust into the mix, rendering a hacksaw solo that makes her sound as if she’s Charlie Daniels’ illegitimate colleen. This song has absolutely no place on the CD, let alone in the important final slot.
Despite the mood melting “Let it Snow,” Celtic Woman: A Christmas Celebration is reflective, calming and mellow, the perfect soundtrack for a quiet holiday evening at home sitting around the fire place. So give it a listen, and have yourself a merry little Christmas.
Posted December 21, 2006 Permalink
The History Boys
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The History Boys Soundtrack 0 out of 5 stars Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson |
Rhino Records has consistently backed a winning horse. This time they’re riding a dead one. There can be no argument that on stage “The History Boys” was brilliant. Widely acclaimed in England, the play about the coming of age of a group of boys at an English boarding school in the 80s won six Tony Awards and had a run of 185 shows in the U.S. On the heels of the play’s worldwide success and in recognition of the release of the movie, Rhino has assembled a hodgepodge of regrettable performances and labeled it the soundtrack to “The History Boys.” Without the support of the witty, touching script, the music has to stand on its own merits, and it stands as well as an alcoholic after his fiftieth shot of booze, which is not at all. After wading through the soundtrack’s 14 selections, any hard liquor you can lay your hands on may not be hard enough to wash away the flotsam of sub-par performances by 80s techno bands and the abhorrent stabs at cabaret by actors who shouldn’t sing at all.
Grace Fields, the grand dame of English music halls, offers up a slab of nostalgia with “Wish Me Luck (As You Wave Me Goodbye),” a busy patriotic salute to the boys going off to fight in the war. All that’s missing is the parade and the confetti. It’s not hard to see why Fields had a career spanning from 1905 to 1978; she has plenty of moxie and an operatic, chirpy delivery that brings to mind Julie Andrews. Unfortunately, she also has more glass shattering octaves than Mariah Carey, and they shoot out of her gullet like poisonous darts. Is her performance dated? You betcha. Despite the probability of having to replace your window panes every time you play it, “Wish Me Luck” might be the only marginally listenable track on the whole CD.
New Order’s “Blue Monday” shifts the soundscape from the dance hall to the dance floor, from the 40s to the 80s, and from cheesy to processed cheesy. It’s a clinical, passionless track inhabited by sleepy banks of synthesizers, a guitar riff that belongs in a bad James Bond flick and percussion that sounds like a blacksmith smacking a broom handle against sheet metal. The Smiths’ “This Charming Man” steals the riff from the Jam’s “A Town Called Malice,” but at least the drums are, for the most part, real. One glaring problem with 80s music was that gadgetry and atmosphere took precedence over the lyrics. Any real attempt to sing with emotion was also abandoned. Lead singer Morose-y, sorry, Morrissey, double faults in both areas, delivering a clenched vocal while proclaiming “I would go out tonight, but I haven’t got a stitch to wear.” And you haven’t got a decent lyric to sing either, Morose-y.
“The History Boys” might have been salvageable if not for vocal contributions of Samuel Barnett, who is fortunate to have his acting skills to fall back on, because his over-the-top delivery makes Jerry Lewis sound like Enrico Caruso. Barnett first appears as a male Marlene Dietrich, singing “L’Accordeonitte” in French. Nice to know you can offend in two languages, Sammy. A stark production, “L’Accodeonitte” features Barrett’s bad in any language vocal and poufy piano accompaniment from arranger Richard Sisson. The only enjoyment you’ll get out of this song (except for its conclusion) is when Sisson shifts into second gear, leaving Barnett’s Pepe Le Pew vocal several measures behind. Barnett’s second appearance will make you wish he was still singing in a foreign tongue. He flounces through the old torch song “Bewitched” with perfect diction, but his overblown performance sounds like a parody or a joke – one that will indeed leave you bewitched, certainly bothered, and definitely bewildered. Give Sisson credit – having thrust Barnett into the breech twice with unintentionally disastrous results, he realizes his blunder and turns things over to the History Boys themselves. But Sisson’s clichéd arrangement for “Bye Bye Blackbird” is so heinous it wouldn’t even make the outtakes from “The Gong Show.” The wimpy, thin, Vienna-Boys-Choir-style arrangement will make you want to toss “The History Boys” platter skyward like a skeet shooters target. The problem is it will eventually come back down.
As if to prove he’s not the only one who can wreck “Bewitched,” Rufus Wainright steps forward to embarrass himself. Wainright’s criminal take drags on until it’s longer than a stretch at Sing Sing.
There’s hope when the Clash burst onto the scene with “Mustapha Dance” -- then you realize it’s just “Rocking the Casbah” without the vocal. The Clash loved to experiment with “dubs,” tweaking some of their more radio friendly tracks by adding sound effects, or as in the case of “Mustapha Dance,” letting Topper Headon (who was bout to get kicked out of the band), let loose in the studio. Headon plays the drums, bass and piano. Still, without Joe Strummer’s spiteful vocal, “Mustapha Dance” is merely karaoke Clash.
The rest of the artists on the soundtrack read like a who’s who of 80s punk/techno music. In actuality, it’s more like a list of culprits. Echo and the Bunnymen punch up a “discotheque version” of “Never Stop,” a weak rip-off of Duran Duran’s rabid “Hungry Like A Wolf,” with generous proportions of odd ball percussion and flat-line singing. Not to be out wimped, Robert Smith’s faint vocal for The Cure’s “A Forest” has all the personality and emotion of stale white bread. It’s a blessing that Pig Bag’s “Papa’s Got A Brand New Pigbag” has nothing to do with James Brown; Brown’s got enough assault charges on his rap sheet without having to knock some sense into Mr. Bag. “Papa’s Got A Brand New Pigbag” sports a blaring marching band horn section that belongs at a halftime show at a Grambling football game and a sax solo that sounds like the mating call of a Canadian goose, and those are its attractive features. The English Beat turns Andy Williams’ “Can’t Stand Losing You” into soft reggae. It’s a great idea on paper, but Dave Wakeling’s disinterested vocal will leave you yearning to hear Andy Williams’ take on the song -- and any time Andy Williams is the better alternative there’s got to be something very, very wrong. Aztec Camera takes Wham’s “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go” and Duran Duran’s “Rio,” and slams them together head on to create the poppy “Walk Out To Winter.” Having one bad Duran Duran sound-alike per CD is bad enough, but two? The Pretender’s “2000 Miles” seemingly drags on for 10,000 miles and concludes the album with a gag-inducing thud. Sitting through Chrissie Hynde’s bittersweet holiday ballad is like spending Christmas at an orphanage in a Charles Dickens novel – here’s your three minute and thirty seven second equivalent of a lump of coal, sir.
“The History Boys” might have fared better if producer Ian Neil and licensing agent Tonia Andrew had selected top-shelf material. You don’t pay the Clash for an instrumental, give a ham actor a microphone and a chance to be a real pig, or contract the English Beat to make Andy Williams look good. The restless, wistful and predominantly dour selections are supposed to be the soundtrack to the character’s coming of age. I like a sad tune every now and then myself, but if this joyless, milquetoast droning is supposed to instill memories, then they certainly won’t be pleasant ones. This is music to commit suicide by. If you have a strong enough constituition you’ll only entertain the notion of ending it all. Stick a fork in this soundtrack – its history.
Posted December 12, 2006 Permalink
Love It Madly
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The Doors Perception - 6CD/6DVD Boxed set 4 out of 5 stars Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson |
Jim Morrison had serious charisma -- good looks, a deep, bell tone for a voice and the active, rebellious nature of an avant-garde poet. It was a combination that served him well in the studio and on magazine covers, but conflicted with Morrison’s demonic hell-bent-for-leather nature. His contrary and frequently downright obnoxious behavior and his fondness for getting blind drunk turned his onstage performances into high wire acts and pitted the Doors talented but persnickety drummer, John Densmore, against him. Morrison hated being a 60s icon – a commodity – and eventually succeeded in ditching the Doors for his short-lived career as a Parisian junkie poet. He may have disliked being a celebrity, but it allowed him to reap the benefits of being the Dionysius of Rock, and while his zest for life fueled his creative genius, it also drove him to cater to his dark side so often he wound up dead in a bathtub at the tender age of 26. Luckily, Morrison managed to control his self-destructive urges long enough to record half a dozen classic albums as the Doors’ front man. In celebration of the Doors 40th anniversary, Rhino Records has put together “Perception,” a lavish collection that gathers together all six albums recorded with Morrison in two forms – remastered CDs and in 5.1 surround sound, with notes by engineer Bruce Botnick, unreleased tracks, bonus videos and lyrics. A 21, yes, 21-track sampler covering the Doors’ career was sent out in advance of the box set.
If you bought the last round of Doors reissues, sadly, they are now obsolete. The remixed, revamped and revitalized songs are expertly produced. Morrison’s baritone is captured in all its variations as dictated by whatever stimulant he was taking at the time – rock solid, angry, preachy, hoarse, or slovenly. Ray Manzarek’s keyboard playing sounds even more reliable, acting as the portal from which the Doors opened up the gates of their creativity. John Densmore and guitarist Robbie Krieger, who are now more upfront in the mix, benefit the most from the high tech engineering. Densmore shows he’s the master of any rhythmic style, and Krieger demonstrates his ability to incorporate rock, jazz, blues, flamenco, Indian and classical music influences into the Doors’ material.
“Break on Through,” the opening cut on their self-titled album (and the sampler) is a captivating first step. From downbeat of Densmore’s Bossa Nova rhythm, it’s apparent he was a much better drummer than he was given credit for. Morrison’s commanding voice, purposely recorded as if to make him sound distant, immediately grabs your attention. There’s no sign here of the malaise that occasionally surfaced in Morrison’s later work. The phrase “She gets high! She gets hiiiigh!” originally edited from the finished version at the record company’s request, has been restored.
Densmore sets a relentless pace in “I Looked at You.” Morrison is savage, unchained, fully into the moment. The new mix makes “End of the Night” sound effectively creepy, as if Morrison is muttering the lyrics while hanging out on a grimy corner in a trench coat. The distorted piano, acid-laced guitar and stop and go percussion employed in “My Eyes Have Seen You” feeds Morrison’s disturbing, voyeuristic imagery. “I Can’t See Your Face” is an equally off-kilter melodrama with percussion that resembles a murderer’s footsteps shuffling across wet pavement. It finishes with a lonely organ riff that sounds like a submarine’s sonar searching the night for a glimpse of Morrison’s muse.
Other gems from the Doors’ warehouse abound. “Love Me Two Times” (Take 3) has Krieger and Densmore pushing the tempo. Manzarek is a bit off key at first, but soon falls in line. “We Would Be So Good Together” cops the turnaround from Thelonious Monk’s “Straight No Chaser” to good effect, with Krieger’s crowing guitar shadowing Morrison’s impassioned vocal.
“Yes, the River Knows” is a personal favorite (although Morrison apparently disliked the song because it was blatantly romantic). The timbre in Morrison’s voice is strong, yet soothing. (He could have had a great career doing voiceovers.) “River” drifts peacefully, thanks to Densmore’s shuffling beat, Krieger’s lilting solo and Douglas Lubahan’s thick turns on bass.
“Shaman’s Blues,” one of the band’s underrated performances, is another showcase for Krieger’s guitar, which buzzes in and out of the lyrics like a fully satisfied honey bee.
In “Touch Me” (Take 3), Densmore attacks the drums like “Animal” of the Muppets, hitting them frequently and freely, while actually enhancing the impact of the song. The late Curtis Amy, who provides the lung-busting tenor sax solo, gets more time in the forefront in this previously unreleased version.
The take of “Roadhouse Blues” offered up in the sampler opens with a slurred observation from Morrison: “Ladies and gentlemen I want to tell you something… Money beats soul every time…” Morrison tests different vocal deliveries – at one point he opts for a syncopated effect and sounds as if he’s going to break into the Tarantella. Sitting in on harp, John Sebastian blows a few notes on the high end before settling for the more muscular sound he carried off in the final version. Morrison’s voice is as baked as he is, but there’s still a creative spark somewhere in his husk, as evidenced by his uncomfortable foray into scat.
Bassist Jerry Scheff, a veteran of Elvis Presley’s band, and rhythm guitarist Marc Benno, a side kick of Leon Russell’s, joined the Doors in the studio for “L.A. Woman,” their final platter with Morrison. The addition of the two vets effectively made the Doors a complete band. (Onstage Manzarek played the bass lines with his left hand and the keyboards with his right. Both Traffic’s Steve Winwood and The Rascals’ Felix Cavaliere performed this feat on Hammond organ without a hitch, but Manzarek’s use of the Fender Rhodes and Farfisa organ gave the Door’s concert music a cheesy sound with plenty holes.) By recruiting Benno and Scheff, and essentially playing live in the studio, the Doors tightened up their sound and were able to jam with newfound freedom. A primary example is “Crawling King Snake,” in which Densmore pounds the skins as if he’s leading a brigade into battle, while Krieger darts in with sharp, spasmodic bursts and Manzarek counters with a bluesy electric piano solo.
Morrison, who had by now gained considerable weight and was hiding his rock star profile behind a scruffy beard, deepens his voice in “Love Her Madly” to the point where he almost sounds like a parody of himself, but Manzarek aces the performance with his Tin Pan Alley solos. The remixed version of “Riders on the Storm” thrusts Scheff’s omnipresent bass and Densmore’s windshield wiper beat into the foreground. Morrison’s ghostly, whispered vocal makes the last song he recorded with the group seem all the more prophetic.
Only a few cuts manage to punch a hole in the Doors’ mystique as underground heroes. Not surprisingly, they’re early takes of tunes that were vastly improved in later takes. The early arrangement for “Moonlight Drive” is similar to the hopped up polka beat in “Alabama Song.” It’s a little to perky – it’s not a moonlight drive – it’s a midday jaunt. Krieger’s slide playing is too busy and Densmore sounds as if he had a bit too much caffeine that morning. “Not to the Touch the Earth” captures the bile issuing from the pit of Morrison’s very troubled soul, and is the only salvageable part of his interminable opus, “The Celebration of the Lizard.” The remixed version begins with the engineer signing on with “Doug, at your pleasure” (directed at guest bassist Doug Lubahan). Lubahan’s gurgling bass and Manzarek’s trippy keyboards create an unsettling atmosphere throughout, while Morrison vigorously assaults the mike. He’s hoarse, anxious to prove the song’s validity. Krieger takes a blow until the midway mark, unsure or unwilling to participate. “Orange County Suite” is the only full-fledged mistake offered in the sampler, a poetic stream of consciousness (or unconsciousness) that should have remained buried in whatever bottle of whiskey Morrison found it in. Morrison seldom wrote of his masochistic relationship with soul mate Pamela Courson, and it’s not hard to see why. “I used to know someone fair; she had orange ribbons in her hair. She was such a trip she hardly there, but I loved her just the same.” Please pass the orange Tums.
“Perception” wisely omits “Absolutely Live,” one of the most absolutely awful albums of all time, as well as the two albums the Doors recorded as a trio following Morrison’s demise, the surprisingly solid “Other Voices” and “Full Circle,” a jazzy fall from grace that marked the end of the group.
The box set’s release will probably vaunt the Doors back into the spotlight and that’s a very good thing, because they’re one of the few American bands from the 60s worth listening to. “Perception” also gives the surviving members their due – they weren’t just Morrison’s back up band, but a trio of severely talented musicians, who ended up writing as many well-known classics as their swacked lead singer (Krieger for example, penned “Touch Me” and “Love Her Madly”.) And despite his many faults as a human being, when Jim Morrison was cognizant, he was a captivating performer.
Extra Doors
Their self-titled first album features two versions of “Moonlight Drive” and a previously unavailable version of “Indian Summer,” plus a music video for “Break on Through,” and a live performance of “The End” recorded for Canadian television. “Strange Days” offers alternate takes of “People Are Strange” and “Love Me Two Times,” plus live performances on DVD of “Love Me Two Times’ and “When the Music’s Over” recorded in Europe. “Waiting for the Sun” is fattened up with five bonus tracks; “Albinoni’s Adagio in G Minor,” a 17-minute epic performance of “Celebration of the Lizard,” and three takes of “Not to Touch the Earth.” The DVD section offers live footage of “Spanish Caravan” from a show at the Hollywood Bowl, and “The Unknown Soldier” performed in Demark. “The Soft Parade” sports six bonus tracks, including three that have never seen the light of day: “Push Push,” and two versions of “Whiskey, Mystics and Men,” plus “Who Scared You” and two alternate takes of “Touch Me,” while the DVD captures the Doors on WNET-TV in New York performing “The Soft Parade” and “Tell All the People.” “Morrison Hotel” is bolstered by ten bonus tracks, including run-throughs of Chuck Berry’s “Carol,” “Peace Frog” and “The Spy,” while the DVD has music videos for “Roadhouse Blues” and “Wild Child.” “L.A. Woman,” contains the bonus tracks “Orange County Suite” and “(You Need Meat) Don’t Go No Further,” plus a music video for “The Changeling” and behind the scenes rehearsal footage of “Crawling King Snake.”
No matter what your perception is of the Doors is, this box set is a must have. It’s a definitive look at a poet who laid bare his soul and the band of brothers who provided the soundtrack to his very public decent onto Dante’s inferno. Love it madly, folks.
Posted December 4, 2006 Permalink
