Moving On UP

I've decided to focus on writing about music; so obvious it's escaped me as a calling until just recently. To follow my progress, please visit www.tunemusing.tumblr.com regularly....

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.

The Hippie Shake Revised

When pal George Sluppick invited me to see his new band the other night, I jumped. Having been a Black Crowes fan in the past, I was very interested to see what one of my favorite contemporary (blues) drummers was going to add to The Chris Robinson Brotherhood.

Sluppick has been one of my favorite drummers to follow over the last decade or so, and watch his presence, or lack thereof, completely change the projects in which he's participated (i.e. Robert Walter's 20th Congress, Mofro; both of which fail to move me without him). Of course, the drums are fundamental and this could be expected, but I venture to say that George contributes far more than just a solid backbone. In his meticulous rock steady, there's a patina that many his age have yet to acquire. He brings a seriously old soul with adolescent energy, and an intuition for swing and subtlety that can only come from experience with the dirty.

So to Chris Robinson's new project, this beat comes, and it makes perfect sense. While it's relatively early in the tour, the chemistry is definitely honing along at a steady clip. Keyboard player and moog lover, Adam MacDougall (Black Crowes) and bassist, Mark "Muddy Stardust" Dutton fall in on Sluppick's framework with flourish and ease alike. While perhaps a bit gratuitous with the spacey swoops, the moog was well utilized; I want to say I heard a lot of doubling with the bass, which is a big fave of mine. Not sure if I'm projecting, though.

And along with this solid rhythm section, we get a super delightful surprise: this "Muddy" Dutton has an amazing vocal reach. I found his top parts of the vocal harmonies to be the perfect finish, adding some slicker rock and roll to the mix. It was surprising, but made perfect sense, to find out that Dutton has been associated with both LA Guns and Dwight Yoakam.

Overall the band reeks of bearded, laid back aesthetic, as well as the crowd at Cafe Du Nord that night. Lovers of the Dead, the Band, Neil Young, and dare I say a sprinkle of Steely Dan (I swear I heard "Reeling in the Years" somewhere in there), will enjoy a bit of departure into the likes of the Headhunters. My love for the low end left me a little disappointed with the guitar tones, but upon more objective thought I suppose they were an appropriate complement for the rhythm section. Drums, keys and bass effectively stole the show for me, and the vocal harmonies were an unexpected bonus. I recall a chorus of "be well, take care" that haunts me still. The details on the rest trail away....

Hi-De-Hi

I knew I'd get a naughty surprise last night. Pals Shotgun Wedding Quintet could not disappoint when given the task of finding their interpretation on the music of Cab Calloway. As with many of the collections of tunes for the SF Jazz Hotplate Series, local musicians often choose a mix of straight-forward tribute and contemporary spin. While I'm not intimately familiar with the bulk of Cab Calloway's catalog, I have a definite grasp of his thing. So when sax/keys player Joe Cohen opened with some freaky, red-lacquered synth my eyebrows went up and stayed there. SWQ frontman, Dublin took his usual position as crooning auctioneer and matched Cab in charisma and cinematic appeal, if only a little less physical. A fun little call-and-response incorporated the listeners on "Reefer Man," and vocalist Crystal Monee Hall laid down the well known "Hi-De-Hi." Blistering grooves and tenuous bass riffs patterned the entire performance, but the essence of Calloway was never lost; particularly when Shock G of Digital Underground fame approached the stage in a white, windowpane plaid suit and perfectly coiffed afro.

It couldn't have been planned, it's literally how planets just freaking align sometimes. SWQ had been doing a little work with Shock G this past week, and damn if it didn't just make sense. His humor and physicality echoed Cab all the way, and the tiny club lit up like a Christmas tree at a New Year's bonfire when breaking into "Freaks of the Industry." When it couldn't get anymore germane, Ray Love of 2Pac's crew and grandson of Cab Calloway himself took the stage and humored the crowd with a little "California Love." Take a second to wrap your head around that. I'll be here all day.

So all of this musty, nostalgic vision was getting manhandled into hip hop on a Thursday for about 100 people, in a club so small I had to take a leak with Shock G's ass against the bathroom door, isn't even that unusual for what's going on in the Bay right now. This area is steadily churning out some of the most progressive music available, and is only honing its form. As eclecticism becomes more and more popular and genres fade into looser descriptors, the Bay area, and particularly Jazz Mafia, is leading the pack and mastering the delivery.

The Bay being a bit smoother overall than the New York scene, much of the material Jazz Mafia produces emerges from a general posit another writer captured about bandleader Adam Theis, "wouldn't it be rad if...." The maturation of the core members of the collective is upon us, and the chemistry is at that boiling point. It's thrilling to watch it all come together and gain momentum, as these folks have been working, living, and creating at an exhausting pace with one another for a decade or so. The Shotgun Wedding Quintet drops a new album soon, and the Jazz Mafia Symphony premieres its 2nd work, The Emperor Norton Suite at Stern Grove this June. Gonna be a hot summer, even in the Bay.

Rose of the Day

While I may not be able to manage one a day, I am on some kind of rose mission. Most places only carry a single still rose, and I believe each choice can be used as a representative analogy for each establishment's understated personality or agenda. I'm still debating on how to approach the brut roses, but let's test the hypothesis starting with the stills.

I have two with which to begin:

I have stopped on occasion by The Brickyard on Union on the way home from work, both times to gather my senses after some spontaneous shopping nearby. The bartenders have both been super knowledgable and accessible women, if dressed a bit too casually. Torn denim minis, t shirts, bra straps. Not for me, really. But beyond that they've provided excellent service. Particularly the young lady that poured me an extra "halfie" at no charge.

The Sedna Rose of Syrah from Kate's Vineyard in Napa has stolen my heart. I am a complete wine dilettante, but have been exposed since I was a teen to better wines through my sommelier sister. As I develop my palate and vernacular, I'm understanding that I'm very comfortably and predictably lodged in the New World. I'm okay with this, I have no agenda for pretense. I like "soccer mom chardonnays" just fine, but prefer them on the more complex side such as the 2008 Dutton Goldfield Chardonnay. That said, the Sedna's dark, ripe fruit and vanilla wrapped me in a warm blankie despite the condensation on the glass. So far, this is my winner. But what does it say about The Brickyard?

From my short involvement, this would give me the impression that this poshly sparse and rustic sports bar with healthier food would understand its clientele. The surrounding Marina folks are most likely about on par with me as far as wine knowledge, and I noted the healthy stock of Miller Lite in the can in addition to the city's usual PBR and Tecate fare. This actually raised my opinion, as I am from Mobile, AL and have a deep appreciation for beers meant for high volume consumption.

My next rose of note I tried today in my neighborhood gem, Local Mission Eatery. As I reveled in my baby arugula and grapefruit salad, and downright cried over the stupidity of my open faced asparagus and poached egg sandwich on house made brioche with brown butter hollandaise, I enjoyed a fine rose. My allergies are interfering today, as spring has sprung like an MF up in here, but my overall palate said YES to the 2010 Donkey & Goat Grenache Rose from Mendocino. I'm going to venture that the main nose was all about strawberries, and the perfect medium acidity made it very versatile. Killing with the grapefruit as well as the asparagus-- not an easy feat with this much flavor. I may have to revisit with a clearer nose one day, though.

And what does this say about Local Mission Eatery? That they know a lot about simple food with fine ingredients, duh. With the local trend of comfort food with a flair being the most prominent, finding the balance of familiarity and slightly obscure is where everyone is aiming. In the land of the smug and full-circle uberhip-to-unhip-to-hip-again, I am delighted to test the waters.

Notes on Previous Evening

Note: While it seems just far too obvious and almost boring to me, I'm going to just go on with it and write about my musical experiences here in San Francisco. Perhaps a pattern for spinning will emerge from these little exercises; thus the point of making them public, I suppose.

When my buddy, Alex suggested we go see Black Joe Lewis and the Honeybears I immediately agreed. Having heard a bit of their first album, Tell 'Em What Your Name Is, I knew enough about their sound to know it'd be a good enough time. My expectations were low, recalling them to have a bit more shtick than I believe to be necessary. I write now, as I listen to both the debut and the recent release, Scandalous because after the show last night I bought both of them.

The energy of this show was jiggling all over your face from the get-go. They're an incredibly tight little number with a delightfully animated horn section. Comprised of some bazooka-lookin' baritone sax, trumpet, and tenor sax/tambourine/flamethrower. I need to talk about this guy, David McKnight. I have never, ever, seen a more scorching performance out of a tambourine. Thanks for that, bro. An otherwise visually misleading, uniformed crew, the horn section dances sincerely while awaiting their parts. Eduardo Ramirez (bari) and Darren Sluyter (trumpet) give it.

Joe Lewis appears in a baseball cap and dashiki, almost exactly like that one on my Dad, above. Sorta like Darius Rucker's cousin from the actual country. His undeterminable belting is only slightly reminiscent of Eddie Murphy's take on Buckwheat's Greatest Hits, and charming as all get out. I suppose I am struggling, however, with the level of caricature. I still haven't decided how contrived it is, and if it isn't, whether people/I appreciate the sincerity or find it amusing. It makes me want to hear something a little more raw out of them. To straddle that fence of bringing something unfettered to the table while keeping it all meticulously tight is possibly a level of maturity that's yet to be reached here. I would really like to see them get there, though.

"Booty City," a track off of the new album pays precise homage (or rips off, however you feel about that sort of thing) to Mandrill, and the title track "She's So Scandalous" vaguely whispers the bass movement of 2Pac's song by basically the same name. I feel a little bit of Johnny Guitar Watson from these guys, in that it's super slick and shamelessly assimilating from other tunes they love. I always appreciated how Johnny could pull that off and wondered how much criticism he got for doing so, if any. (Essentially, these are also the fundamental elements of hip hop.)

At points in the show Lewis used this jarring vocal effect on his mic that took me to the revival, and at other times the groove was so steady it took me to warm, clean sheets on a sleeping porch. Hailing from Austin, these guys are bringing the Southern elements of big, deep, guitars and funky delta swang. It was a super sexy party, but I have to take off points for lazy between-set tunes. While the compilation album they played is one of my favorites, Chains & Black Exhaust, and features the exact vibe they're striving for, a live DJ would have been more appropriate in my opinion.

Post show we headed down the street to catch friends, Shotgun Wedding Quintet chopping it up in preparation for tonight's edition of the SF Jazz Hotplate series, a tribute to the music of Cab Calloway. Word is, there will be a special guest from local Bay Area hip hop legendary lore. I have a feeling I'll be writing about this one tomorrow....