In almost the same amount of time it has taken me to write a new blog post, Metallica have blessed us with their latest, alcohol withdrawal shakes and biker boots at the ready, album.
Now, don’t get me wrong, when I was a greasy lank haired fifteen year old (a continuing theme from my last post), all I listened to was Metallica. I ceremoniously scooped the crap out of my amp and struggled in vein to emulate the effeminate guitar wizard Kirk Hammett. I almost, almost (I can’t place enough emphasis on almost) bought a Kirk Hammett signature guitar; thank heavens I didn’t. For the few readers that aren’t acquainted with the intricacies of the guitar anatomy, Mr Hammett’s signature git fiddle is designed for one thing and one thing only: filthy, skin shaving heaviness. It looks menacing. It doesn’t provoke thoughtful or critical analysis. It just exists to destroy your ear drums, most probably when unplugged too. As I slowly came to appreciate the beauties of jazz, folk and early pop, trying to play such genres with a skull and cross bones emblazoned black behemoth would have been nigh on impossible. Plus it would have sounded like UTTER SHIT.
I have digressed somewhat. Out of respect for Hetfield & co. (bar Death Magnetic and 74% of St. Anger), I have listened to some of……ahem…….Hardwired to Self Destruct. To be fair, from what I’ve heard, they have returned to their Kill ‘Em All roots, albeit with an overly impressive slick production and more wrinkly skin. Kirk Hammett still belts out a nice bluesy Phrygian lick, so all can’t be wrong with the world.
Anyhow, what I really wanted to write about was all the great music I’ve had the pleasure of picking up recently! It was all a cunningly disguised plan to lure in die hard Metallica fans and treat them to the wonders of the musical world! What an evil schemer I am.
Let’s start with the all too infrequent tune producer Solange Knowles. Her new album, A Seat At The Table, is really quite something, a far cry from the modern Motown infused Sol-Angel and the Hadley St. Dreams. What a set of pipes! A clear Dirty Projectors influence rings through, but this track is incredibly beat driven in its own right, with trickles of piano accentuating the bass heavy moments perfectly.
Next up is young American guitar virtuoso Julian Lage, who I will have the joy of witnessing this Thursday as part of the EFG Jazz Festival. His latest album, Arclight, is quite possibly my favourite release of the year and his first with an electric guitar. Without wanting to sound like a pretentious know it all idiot, this guy has tone oozing out of his fingers. His note selection is beautiful. The pace and execution of his playing wraps itself around the song structure, rather than sound like gratuitous wanking or someone who is trying too hard to impress. It’s tuneful, restrained, and comforting.The case to modify your Telecaster has never been so strong, especially when you take in the passage from 1.28 to 2.00.
Now, we have the glory days of psychedelic tinged grunge encapsulated in The Wytches. Upon a first time visit to Resident Records, I heard this blaring out over the speakers; my interest was instantly pricked. Their second album is worth your time, believe me. They could be the bastard brother of Nine Black Alps.
And finally, old Charles Mingus never ceases to amaze me. How had I not heard this album? And this tune?! Well, I’ve heard it now, so I can bask in its glory forever. I doff my hat to you sir. It’s a catchy little number, yes!
And with that, I’ll retire into the night and wish my friend Jack the happiest of thirtieth birthdays.