Bubble Gum Boom Bash

I have been devouring Raphael Saadiq's new album, Stone Rolling for almost a week now. Upon reading an article in Wax Poetics, and discovering that Earth, Wind, & Fire's Gratitude-era keyboardist, Larry Dunn was included on the album, I snapped it up immediately.

I'll never forget getting my first Tony! Toni! Tone! cassette from my pal, Anitra Belle on my 12th birthday, and bumping "Feels Good" in the car with my mom on the way to 7th grade classes at St. Ignatius. But other than catching the big radio hits and that one hot ass video and tune with D'Angelo, I had only marginally monitored Saadiq's progress. I was well aware of his multi-instrumental talent, and generally regarded him as an artist of note, but still bailed on seeing his recent performance at Yoshi's for nonspecific reasons. I am kicking the shit out of myself after getting wrecked by this new album.

I say "bubble gum boom bash" in that wistful, youthful, dawn-of-rock feeling this album conveys with lots of cymbals and juggy, jangly guitars. Several other eras of R&B/Rock make appearances as well: fantastic strings, woodwinds, and horn arrangements layer over one another translucently to create a deeply saturated snapshot of several decades at once.

Among my favorites, "Go To Hell" opens up the album as its second track and pretty much lifts its skirt at you and shows you what it's got. So many elements, such a natural progression. Apex presents as a hopeful and joyous chorus of "let love bring us together" while horns and strings swell over a synthy woodwind tune that reminds me of those old, sped-up, time-lapse filmstrip soundtracks of seeds sprouting. Not what you anticipate from the title of the tune.

"Over You" just grabs my little high school heart strings and yanks the shit out them. Short and brooding, and deliciously desperate. The title track is quickly becoming my inner anthem. But it's two particular tracks in sequence that really seal the deal for me.

"Moving down the Line" opens with a yearning exclamation, then cuts directly to one of the steadiest rolls on record. Simple in pattern and phrasing, keeping to blues roots, but punctuated gradually with shining vocal, horn, and string parts. The 40s through the late 70s incorporate themselves as matter-of-factly as the birds and the bees. For such combined elements to come off this organically, and carefully dodging trite while paying homage, one must have a well-articulated perspective of the way humans respond to music. It is a common, continuous pursuit for many artists to spin nostalgia into a current context. Outkast accomplished this similarly with the Speakerboxx/The Love Below albums.

The next track, "Just Don't" also builds layer by layer, really sitting on that ride cymbal. A very Jackson 5-sounding bass and guitar coupling drops into sitar. Then the filmstrip soundtrack sounds fall in again, as I realize that it's Larry Dunn of Earth, Wind, & Fire. He takes the bubble gum, the boom, and the bash to the outro on a damn magic carpet. I suddenly thought that Saadiq was pretty much the brightest guy on the planet. (You will learn that I am easily one of the world's most intense EWF fans.)

Saadiq mentions in the Wax Poetics article growing up in Oakland, CA and learning how to play pretty much everything (as he does on much of the album), because everyone played something where he grew up. They'd trade off and screw around. Also learned from this article that Saadiq toured with Prince right out of high school, and about his primary attraction to guitar. Stating things like, not knowing how to do Ernie Isley's "Voyage to Atlantis" disqualified you from being included in any bands of merit.

I'm still chewing on this album, but what I believe to be resolute about is that this is not "just another retro record." While process is a large part of this album that may be lost on many, Saadiq is managing to stay poignantly relevant with his content and arrangement. A few tracks fall a little short, resembling more of a caricature of an era, but his ratio isn't bad for successes and thus these tracks are forgivable ("Radio," "Daydreams"). The real winner for me lies in the density of the arrangements, which is kind of the irony in the album. Much of the production is roughly pared down, but we have this symphonic quality happening in the sheer number of parts folding in and out of one another. This was nearly impossible during many of the eras represented with the level of technologies then available, but points to rare exceptions such as Brian Wilson's masterpiece, Pet Sounds. I'm very excited by this, as I do react to Stone Rolling in similar ways as I have to Pet Sounds: rapid heart beat, swelling nostalgia, and a vaguely dark sense of yearning. These combined represent for me some of the greatest pleasures of living and breathing.

More Thoughts on Rose, etcetera...

As I continue to conduct research about San Francisco, I have now discovered that my initial hypothesis need be refined a bit. I had begun this mission with the assumption that most establishments would offer but one still rose, at times with a sparkling variety as well, but could potentially represent themselves with that one selection. Well damn if some of these folks offer two! A delightful discovery.

One afternoon I found myself wandering down Union Street again, needing distraction until a spot opened up in my nail salon (V.W. Nails at Gough-- LOVE this woman!). It was around 4:30, and I was surprised to find that most cafes and restaurants on this stretch of Union were not yet open for the evening. (Surprised meaning I was cursing and indignant.) I finally found an open door and super breezy open layout at Unwind on Union. This space is really attractive; from open windows across the front, to a sunken level with a wide, L-shaped bar. Windows near the ceiling dumped loads of moving afternoon sun into the place, and there's even a bar out back.

The first bartender out of about three was kind enough to listen to my short tantrum, just before informing me that he had, in fact, two rose offerings. He was kind enough to jot their names down on a napkin for me, but I have since misplaced it. I'll be doing the best I can with memory, please forgive.

The first was an Argentinian rose, which I found to be exotic in concept but not as exciting on the palate. The color was lovely, a light peach. While it had a decent amount of acidity, it lacked bite. Not much on the nose but heat, either. As I learn about wine, I find that I struggle with this part. Getting past the alcohol scent into more delicate notes is something I'm working on. It way have had some unripe strawberry, but not enough wood or mineral to make that more interesting or balanced. All in all, very light and drinkable, but not particularly interesting.

The other offering was a much bigger California rose. Completely disparate options make me very pleased, and I much preferred this selection. A lovely, deep, translucent cranberry color and medium body finished crisply. The only other concrete info I can give you on this one is that I liked it so much I had another glass while thumbing through my mother's Mother's Day present* from Chronicle Books, a serious one-stop-shop for finding a gift for damn near anyone. It's my new go-to. I think I have scored on maybe three gifts in total for my mother, and this last one was a home run.

*Nests: Fifty Nests and the Birds that Built Them snatched my attention in the store, and I almost kept it for myself. A stunning visual account of all sorts of birds' nests and short, concise commentary of their different habits and formation actually held my attention through half of the book in one sitting.

Moving back to the real mission at hand, I met with a good friend at Palomino for lunch the other day, and discovered again two rose offerings. The approach was similar, two very different roses, but in this case a more obvious contrast of New and Old Worlds in the form of a California rose and a French rose. (I swear I'll get it together and get the names included again, but I failed to grab these before I rushed out the door as we yammered to the furthest extent of our schedules.) While I have often admitted to my naivete in preferring many New World wines, I have to concur that the French kind of have this rose thing down. Its salmon colored presence at the table complemented all of our dishes effortlessly. From awkward but tasty crab & artichoke dip to truffle deviled eggs, sausage and mushroom flatbread with tangy tomato sauce to wild roasted mushroom salad with gorgonzola, it held up and contributed both flavor and in some cases, relief to the palate. One lovely formula I've learned: acid plus acid in food & wine equals pleasure, and the anise quality of the sausage with subtle cheese application set up the tomato sauce for a love match with my rose. Who knew?

So as I continue my research, I can say that this new level of rose/restaurant representation will certainly continue to be explored. Rather than the individual personalities of the rose selections reflecting the personality of the venue, the breadth of range between two selections can convey the span of aesthetic and target customer demographic. Two New World roses, with one from South America, definitely tells me these guys are probably into Jimmy Buffet (not necessarily a bad thing in this context). New World and Old World selections, in the same price range as well, are definitely evidence of a particularly accommodating aesthetic.

In this popular era of disdain for pretense, menus trend towards uber-accessible items like mac and cheese and fancy sliders. But the wine list and bar program is where restauranteurs are flossing their arcane brilliance. I predict a flourish in rose selections, as this one varietal bridges the gap between the two.