Mahmoth's Music 11: A return of sorts.
Once more, I delve into the depths of the Pit that is my (comparatively small) music collection and dig out weird and cool stuffs for your delectation and potential enjoyment...
First up, Amor de Loca Juventad, by Compay Segundo, from "Gracias Compay", 2003
Here.
If you've ever heard any of the now world-renowned and still selling Buena Vista Social Club, you'll likely have heard them do this song. That version is superior in most ways: it has more feeling, better musicians, better singers, better production, etc, etc. What it lacks however is the magical mystery ingredient that appears in the second runthrough of the song. Yes, that's right! It lacks a semi-unrelated spoken word part that smothers the music and the singers, performed by the Skeeviest Cuban-American Voice EVAR. From the opening moments, where his langurous, shirt-half-open, hairy-chested "Yeeeeeaaaaaaah, baby" tears itself from the speakers, through his promises to shower you with lustfull lurve, down to his faintly petulant closing words "I don't laik et laik thaaaaaaaart...", this is a fully-fledged Latino Love God, just waiting for sexy flies to come into his Palour of Candor.
Next, no voices whatsoever, just instruments: Hinba, by Lau, from "Lau Live", 2008
Here.
Lau is a weird little thing, a supergroup composed of just three men, all Irish, all utter masters at what they play, which is shown of expertly here. Noone misses a beat, each knows when to pause to let another get in a quick bit of soloing. The good bit, however, comes four minutes in, when all three musicians are allowed to go utterly batshit insane on their instruments, making them and everything around them scream like utter maniacs, until one of them yells, there's a split second's pause, and they hit the tune again like nothing ever happened. The whole damn album is made of such things, from the opening, where a simple little tune on the melodeon is suddenly opened up by a single, spinetingling sweep of bow on violin, through to Sea, where a simple, repeated tune on the violin is slowly joined by the other instruments, keeping the in-and-out theme running until, with a series of three bursts from the accordeon, the whole thing opens up and lets rip. Glorious stuff.
And now, for something completely different, Shimmy She Wobble, by Otha Turner and The Rising Star Fife & Drum Band, from "Everybody Hollerin' Goat", 2001
Here.
From new to old, literally. Where Lau can't have an average age of more than forty years, here we have something from a man who'd seen out most of the century. Otha was one of those sad things, one of the final proponents of a culture, in this case old slave music, based around cane fife and snare drum, as those could be easily put together anywhere and anywhen in the south and made good solid music. There're better songs on the album to show off what Otha could do with the cane flute, but this hits the mark as far as going back in time goes. Chattering drums, hollering and whooping men and women and the sound of a good time being had by all, bouncing back and forth from then to now on the back of one (now unfortunately deceased) man and his family.
Lastly, Uncle John's Band, by the Stanford Marching Band, from "Stolen Roses: Songs of the Grateful Dead", 2000
Here
A quick one to round this off, does exactly what it says on the tin. Enjoy the brass, and go back to bed.
First up, Amor de Loca Juventad, by Compay Segundo, from "Gracias Compay", 2003
Here.
If you've ever heard any of the now world-renowned and still selling Buena Vista Social Club, you'll likely have heard them do this song. That version is superior in most ways: it has more feeling, better musicians, better singers, better production, etc, etc. What it lacks however is the magical mystery ingredient that appears in the second runthrough of the song. Yes, that's right! It lacks a semi-unrelated spoken word part that smothers the music and the singers, performed by the Skeeviest Cuban-American Voice EVAR. From the opening moments, where his langurous, shirt-half-open, hairy-chested "Yeeeeeaaaaaaah, baby" tears itself from the speakers, through his promises to shower you with lustfull lurve, down to his faintly petulant closing words "I don't laik et laik thaaaaaaaart...", this is a fully-fledged Latino Love God, just waiting for sexy flies to come into his Palour of Candor.
Next, no voices whatsoever, just instruments: Hinba, by Lau, from "Lau Live", 2008
Here.
Lau is a weird little thing, a supergroup composed of just three men, all Irish, all utter masters at what they play, which is shown of expertly here. Noone misses a beat, each knows when to pause to let another get in a quick bit of soloing. The good bit, however, comes four minutes in, when all three musicians are allowed to go utterly batshit insane on their instruments, making them and everything around them scream like utter maniacs, until one of them yells, there's a split second's pause, and they hit the tune again like nothing ever happened. The whole damn album is made of such things, from the opening, where a simple little tune on the melodeon is suddenly opened up by a single, spinetingling sweep of bow on violin, through to Sea, where a simple, repeated tune on the violin is slowly joined by the other instruments, keeping the in-and-out theme running until, with a series of three bursts from the accordeon, the whole thing opens up and lets rip. Glorious stuff.
And now, for something completely different, Shimmy She Wobble, by Otha Turner and The Rising Star Fife & Drum Band, from "Everybody Hollerin' Goat", 2001
Here.
From new to old, literally. Where Lau can't have an average age of more than forty years, here we have something from a man who'd seen out most of the century. Otha was one of those sad things, one of the final proponents of a culture, in this case old slave music, based around cane fife and snare drum, as those could be easily put together anywhere and anywhen in the south and made good solid music. There're better songs on the album to show off what Otha could do with the cane flute, but this hits the mark as far as going back in time goes. Chattering drums, hollering and whooping men and women and the sound of a good time being had by all, bouncing back and forth from then to now on the back of one (now unfortunately deceased) man and his family.
Lastly, Uncle John's Band, by the Stanford Marching Band, from "Stolen Roses: Songs of the Grateful Dead", 2000
Here
A quick one to round this off, does exactly what it says on the tin. Enjoy the brass, and go back to bed.