By Jose D. Duran
By Pablo Chacon Alvarez
By Kat Bein
By Abel Folgar
By Laurie Charles
By Sean Levisman
By Pablo Chacon Alvarez
By George Martinez
It's Praying Time
Miami Mass Choir
The Miami Mass Choir is on a mission. Formed in 1995 under the guidance of gospel veteran Marc Cooper, the choir, whose 50-plus members are drawn from Miami-area churches, has toured extensively. It's Praying Time is the group's debut CD, ten songs packed with the exuberant arrangements and vocal pyrotechnics worthy of this all-star ensemble.
In keeping with gospel tradition, the arrangements are extended (most longer than five minutes), and they're designed to build a sense of sonic momentum that culminates in swirling individual soloists. A raspy Virginia Boss, for instance, offers the dazzling solo on the title track, while Cooper's organ jukes the melody along. "Get Excited" is the choir's poppiest effort, with a rattling piano calling to mind the lush fills of Motown and a catchy bass line anchoring soloist Teresa Plain. "Exhortation" -- like most of the material here, an original composition -- could well have been sung by Aretha Franklin (or, more wickedly, James Brown). "All to Jesus" allows soloist Gia Wyre to deliver a defiant, sometimes sly rap about a fallen Jezebel who is saved.
At the other end of the spectrum is the album's one traditional number, "Jesus Loves Me," which adopts a silky, slow tempo as soloists Denovolee Smith and Rodney Kohn carry on an improvised vocal dialogue. Though the mix occasionally makes the chorus sound a bit distant, hand clapping and wails of encouragement in the background lend the disc a refreshing live feel.
To be sure, secular listeners may find some tracks a bit flat ("Great Is the Lord," "What a Friend"), but for the most part Cooper and his talented voices work hard to lend the genre broad appeal. They appear determined to not simply preach to the choir.
-- Paul Perry
My complexion is glowing like porcelain. Old girlfriends are phoning years after destroying my life to say they might've been a bit hasty. I reach into my pockets and crisp dollar bills are there for the taking. As part of their twelve-step recovery programs, schoolyard bullies who tormented me are wiring back the money they took, with accrued interest. There's a goddamn bluebird on my windowsill every morning, for crying out loud! All of a sudden, life is a gas, and all because I decided my patronage of Morrissey has finally ended with this inexcusably dull new LP. Somebody pinch me!
It's gotten appreciably harder defending maudlin Mo, now three duff albums removed from his last truly great work, Vauxhall and I. Where once his fey depressions were a right laff, he seems to have lost his sense of humor completely, unless "Papa Jack" is a satirical attempt at writing a heavy-handed social-commentary song on the order of Jon Bon Jovi ("There was a time when the kids reached up and Papa Jack pushed them away").
Nothing approaches the luster of yore until "Roy's Keen," a song about a loyal window cleaner out of whose behind the sun no doubt shines for ol' Morrissey ("We've never seen a keener window cleaner/ He can hold a smile for as long as you require, even longer"). And it's not hard to imagine "Satan Rejected My Soul" as a Smiths' single, though it'd probably have seen duty as an excellent B-side. But it's tough sledding elsewhere, and we're momentarily spared from hearing more shopworn Morrissey melodies when he recites "Sorrow Will Come in the End," a barbed attack on the judicial system that could do for him what "On the Day We Fall in Love" did for Davy Jones.
Morrissey has sung all the notes collected here on far better material, but you'll have to ferret out those recordings on your own. Heaven knows I'm not miserable now, and the novelty of acceptance by my peers hasn't worn off yet.
-- Serene Dominic
Blue Rodeo's latest verges on country but doesn't quite qualify -- not pop-sentimental enough to be "new" country and a little too weird and psychedelic to fly with traditionalists. You could almost call it alternative, except it lacks the angst. Almost mainstream pop, but it's too good to lump in there.
The Canadians' sixth release in a decade, Tremolo also departs from their recent work. The sextet's last effort, Nowhere to Here, was a somber collection, drifting into moodiness and settling there. Tremolo expands the range, often to stunning effect. "Moon and Tree" sets the tone with an acoustic guitar intro that segues into a charming pedal steel run by Kim Deschamps. It's a cheerful tune (the melody reminiscent of Neil Young's "Long May You Run") with lyrics to match: "Well, I've been out walking/Talking to moon and tree/And the tall spring grass/Like waves on a dark green sea/And I don't mind getting lost/In your dream."
"No Miracle, No Dazzle" is slug-it-out guitar-based rock, inflected with subtle harmonies and honky-tonk piano. Co-songwriters/vocalists/guitarists Jim Cuddy and Greg Keeler never struggle to blend, harmonizing with a rare elegance. Best of all is the song's unpredictable close, which fades into surreal guitar interplay. Cuddy and Keeler aren't afraid to fool around with dissonant phrasings, and they liven up a number of tracks with unexpected melodic turns.