The Bullpen 005

Re-enunciating the past

Aki Takase Japanic: Forte

The distinguishing feature of Takase’s zillionth album is the free turntablism of her stepson Vincent von Schlippenbach—it’s not obtrusive, it just adds some color from time to time. Alex von Schlippenbach joins the family reunion on one where dueling pianos call a truce to team up against heavy sampling; saxes and trombone have their moments elsewhere. Takase switches modes readily, mixing the Guaraldi-esque intro to “Alinamin Drink” with more traditional avanting. Given all that’s going on, drummer Dag Magnus Narvesen might be MVP for holding everything together. He’s on deserved vacation for the last track: a so-straight-it’s crooked trombone (Nils Wogram) and piano duet version of “I’m Confessin’ (That I Love You)”. (“Alinamin Drink”, “Timeless Story”, “An jeder Kreuzung liegt eine Erinnerung begraben”)

Barbra Streisand: Live at the Bon Soir (1962/2022)

Intended as her debut, most of this sat on the shelf for sixty years (some of it was on her box set) until the technology to clean up the sound existed. I do not claim to have worked through any significant chunk of her discography to check, but I’d guess this is the best way to listen to her for longer than your favorite soundtrack hit or least despised Barry Gibb collaboration. Streisand’s much more tolerable playing the giggly ingenue than the imperious superstar, and the audience gives her comic chops someone to chew on. The schticky “Value” and the now-problematic “Come to the Supermarket (in Old Peking)” show how useful her famed enunciation could be for timing jokes just right: she gets all the words in there with emphasis, so that the entertainment is in her delivery and separable from mere ethnicity (whether hers or someone else’s.) It’s not all yuks: on “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered”, she matches the sophistication of the material with her modulations in volume; though rock ears might think she’s over interpreting, she’s within the standards of her time. She isn’t when for some reason she decides to shout “Cry Me a River”, but I’m sure before long someone will tell her to stop doing that. (“Value”, “Come to the Supermarket (in Old Peking)”, “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered”)

Bob Vylan: Humble as the Sun

Is it just me or do left-identified musicians who talk economics hardly mention jobs anymore? Sure, I know in most cases their job is “musician”; it’s a big change, however, from the Springsteen era when musos who’d never bent a crowbar in their life would fall over themselves to claim blue collar bona fides, whereas now they just complain (with justification!) about shit being expensive. Anyway, Bobby or is it Bobbie is still better at sarcastically portraying a Tory game show host or a meathead Men’s Rights dude than he is at rapping per se, but pantomime is a proud working class tradition too. (“He’s a Man”, “Hunger Games”, “Dream Big”)

Kankou Kouyaté: N’Darila

The latest member of Mali’s famous griot clan to make a solo album rounds up a bunch of Kouyaté cousins and their ngonis and drums for that purpose; Uncle Bassekou drops in for a few tracks. While Kankou’s voice is moderate, she has a little smoke in her low end that makes for a neat contrast with the ngoni heroics and the kora guest spots. The music is at once very accomplished and a bit tossed off; the only attempt at crossover appeal is “Maria Lulu Rishi”, which adds unnecessary-not-disagreeable Cuban trumpet. For existing fans of the family mostly, but there are a few of those reading. (“Nganou Bella”, “N’Darila”, “Deni Koungo”)

Nayeon: NA mini-album

Though Nayeon’s designated role in regimented nine-girl group Twice is to be at the center of photoshoots, she’s the one who’s carved out the most well-developed solo career to date. This doesn’t have a hit of the magnitude of 2022’s “Pop”, but it’s an agreeable summer trifle. The usual intercontinental conglomerate of producers push her towards hip-hop, keeping things brisk; lyrics continue to not be a priority. While some of her bandmates and collaborators may be more musical—Julie of upcomers Kiss of Life drops a disconcertingly credible rap verse on “Magic”—Nayeon’s a solid singer and is proficient enough in English to run through the alphabet and imbue “ayo ayo ayo” with all the meaning it needs. (“ABCD”, “Butterflies”, “Magic”)

Okwy Osadebe & Highlife Soundmakers International: Ifunanya

So far Chief Stephen Osita’s son’s takeover of the family business has earned him a few shows in California and twenty-three Twitter followers. On this second LP, he proves he doesn’t just sound like his father—he also sounds like Celestine Ukwu sans vibes! Like Igbo Amaka, this is stuck in the past, and if you agree that highlife was one of the three or four sweetest sounds of the twentieth century, you might not mind at all. “Anwuli” feels like it could continue for the whole album; only the shoutout closer is a bit draggy. Okwy dispenses wisdom, sometimes in English and sometimes semi-spoken, and guitarist Chima Ezekiel Ejimkonye’s gentle wah-wah and trebly dancing makes it go down easy. And if that sounds too easy, there’s some hard hand and kit drumming if you listen for it. (“Anwuli”, “Ifunanya”, “Big 4 International Los Angeles, California”)

Pet Shop Boys: Nonetheless

As Alfred Soto says: “the Boys are old friends. They amuse and move us. Their foibles are familiar.” With producer James Ford tending towards essentialism, they fall back on strings and brass for musical interest in lieu of pop hooks or megaclub beats; in one song, Neil asks “Why Am I Dancing?”, and the answer is habit. He remains one of pop’s most effective male vocalists, and it’s heartening to hear him look back on past gay and pop life so openly: beats “come dressed as the sick soul of Brexit” parties. Wouldn’t put it past them to still have another great album in them, but it would be uncharacteristic to try for one every time. (The Furthermore EP adds four new versions of old songs, for those who need a “Being Boring” where Neil stops to explain the meaning of “Being Boring”.) (“New London Boy”, “Why Am I Dancing?”, “The Schlager Hit Parade”)

Sonny Rollins: Freedom Weaver

First two discs are fun if not striiiictly necessary, since fine studio versions of almost everything exist—two “It Don’t Mean a Thing”s are the most intriguing inclusions. Disc 3 is the main attraction: three long tracks with Kenny Clarke on drums an equal partner (Henry Grimes on bass gets a little feature time but mostly does his job.) “Woody ’N’ You” sees Rollins and Clarke’s call-and-response pushing each other as far out as ’50s hard bop ever got. “But Not for Me” is classic Rollins melodicism at extended length; just when you think he might run out of steam, Clarke re-energizes him. Rollins is lower key on “Lady Bird”, delving into his Familiar Quotations while Clarke runs through every drum roll known to human- or bird-kind. (“Woody ’N’ You”, “But Not for Me”, “It Don’t Mean a Thing #2”)

Tomorrow X Together: Minisode 3: Tomorrow EP

Being able to tell K-pop boybands apart is the part of the job description that puts off the most would-be Serious Critics of Actually Popular Music. Learning to differentiate between Ateez—watered-down BTS where BTS are plenty watered down themselves these days—and Stray Kids—proper artists, help to write their own songs, could write better ones—isn’t the most uplifting use of one’s time even if it doesn’t get you review-bombed. TXT remain my mild faves, retaining the attitude of classic rock bands like One Direction while incorporating state-of-the-art sonics. “Miracle”, a sleek Slow Rabbit production about how the shippers might not be wrong, is the standout, but I appreciate that they give rage trap and Afrobeats the old showbiz try. Even if the results aren’t all smooth, they trust their audience to roll with it. (“Miracle”, “Quarter Life”, “The Killa (I Belong to You)”)

Verônica Ferriani: Cochicho no Silêncio Vira Barulho, Irmã

Very well sung album, to the extent that I’m tempted to write Ferriani in for the vocal category of the Jazz Critics Poll. She has excellent control of tone, keeping an even keel even when elucidating patriarchal double standards point by point—and of course one double standard is that she should be expected not to be histrionic about discrimination, and to play down hardships in order to emphasize the ineffable joy of motherhood. Yet it’s her choice, and she makes it sound like a good one. The base of the backing is the kind of efficient samba that specialists appreciate more than me, but a pan-Brazilian guest list of dozens of women enliven it considerably, with harp and flugelhorn and triangle chiming in at opportune times. (“Cadê Humor?”, “Sem Regras”, “Blue Moon”)

Vijay Iyer, Linda May Han Oh, Tyshawn Sorey: Compassion

The closest I’ve come to loving an Iyer record since his 2016 Wadada Leo Smith collab. The second album by this trio (after Uneasy, which was too easy) is clearly jazz, isn’t too fussy, and only goes over the seven minute mark a couple of times. Iyer may never regain the joie de vivre he had when he covered “Galang”—though his politics have stayed a lot more righteous than those of that other artist who first did “Galang”—but his collaborators compensate, with Sorey turning his drum kit into an orchestra as usual and Oh’s lyrical bass runs benefitting from the painstaking ECM miking. And if the music doesn’t quite match titles like “Maelstrom” and “Tempest”, compassion is never in doubt. (“Overjoyed”, “Maelstrom”, “Panegyric”)