V/A - She's Your Cook But She Burns My Bread Sometimes

PART I
LEMON SQUEEZERS
1. Bo Carter - Banana in Your Fruit Basket
2. Bo Carter - She's Your Cook But She Burns My Bread Sometimes
3. Memphis Minnie & Kansas Joe - What Fault You Find in Me?
4. Son House - My Black Mamma I & II
5. Big Bill Broonzy (w/ Black Bob) - Milk Cow Blues
6. Maggie Jones (w/ Satchmo & Fletch Anderson) - Anybody Here Want to Try My Cabbage
7. Lil Johnson (w/ Charles Avery) - You'll Never Miss Your Jelly Till Your Jelly Roller's Gone
8. St. Louis Bessie (Bessie Mae Smith w/ Peetie Wheatstraw & Charlie Jordan - Sugar Man Blues
9. Sara Martin ( w/ the Clarence Williams Orchestra) - Kitchen Man Blues
10. Lucille Bogan (w/ T.A. Dorsey & Tampa Red) - Coffee Grindin' Blues
11. Robert Johnson - Milkcow's Calf Blues

Part II
GRINDERS & OTHER SEX METAPHORS
12. Washboard Sam & His Washboard Band (w/ Black Bob & Big Bill Broonzy) - Barbecue
13. Bessie Jackson (w/ Lucile Bogan, W. Roland, Josh White) - Barbecue Bess
14. Jimmie Gordon (w/ H. Malcolm, Charlie McCoy, Harrison) - She Sells Good Meat
15. Lil Johnson (w/ Myrtle Jenkins, Big Bill Broonzy) - My Stove's in Good Condition
16. Lil Johnson & Her Chicago Swingers - Hottest Gal in Town
17. Bessie Smith (w/ Charlie Green, Porter Grainger) - Empty Bed Blues
18. Lonnie Johnson (w/ Blind John Davis, Andrew Harris) - He's a Jelly-Roll Baker
19. Lil Johnson (w/Black Bob, Bill Settles) - Get'em from the Peanuts Man
20 Lil Johnson (w/ Black Bob, Bill Settles) - Sam the Hot Dog Man



Recorded 1924-1942
Selection by Jean-Paul Levet
Cover Photo: Stove in John Fredrick Kitchen, Maryland 1941.
Illustration: Robert Crumb

If you don't like my sweet potato
What made you dig so deep,
Dig my potato field
Three or four times a week?
Lil' Johnson, "You'll never miss your Jelly".

Part 1 : Lemon Squeezers @320
Part 2 : Grinders & Other Sex Metaphors @320

Ekkehard Ehlers - Plays (2002)

The tribute album has long been one of the more unnecessary and unscrupulous chapters in the musical canon. These compilations rarely operate as anything but superfluous fodder, pieced together by record execs to extract every last penny from a (dead) artist’s lingering popularity.

Of course, the tribute record is inevitable – it epitomizes, in a sense, why children pick up instruments in the first place. Musicians beget musicians, stars beget stars. “They” are the reason “we” play (at least until “we” becomes so jaded, admitting any influence whatsoever becomes embarrassing). The problem is, as flattering as it may be, a tribute album usually consists of hapless covers that actually do a disservice to the original material (and play a key role in why stars secretly loathe their fans).

Ekkehard Ehlers’ Plays is different. Ehlers, a Frankfurt-based artist/educator and label head of Whatness, prefers to “refer”. His abstract compositions channel inspiration rather than mimic it. “Everyone is sampling,” Ehlers said. “Sampling is the figure of historic devices in digital music. My idea is not to sample, but to refer to historic places and figures.”

On Plays, Ehlers’ abstraction solidifies his status as one of the more exciting, creative “electronic” artists in Germany, a country already known for its mixing board prowess. His selection of references spans the spectrum of art: Post-WWII German author Hubert Fichte, saxophonist Albert Ayler, blues legend Robert Johnson, avant-garde composer Cornelius Cardew, and director John Cassavetes. Each figure is tragic in his own way, and all passed before their time. Fichte was a homosexual “half-Jew” growing up in Nazi Germany, dead at age 50. Cassavetes brought cinema verité to America, dead at age 59. Cardew struggled with his beliefs, and was killed in a hit-and-run at the age of 45. Johnson was killed by a jealous husband at the age of 27. Ayler wound up drowned in New York’s East River at just 35.

Ehlers’ true intentions behind each of these pieces are hidden among the abstract strands that make up Plays, but there is no mistaking the emotion invested throughout. Each project (three EPs and two 7”s) traverses unique ground, but the tragic, rebellious background of his subjects permeates the collection. The following interpretation of his work is by no means definitive. Plays’s nebulous nature defies strict explanation and will undoubtedly mean many things to many different people.

Ehlers’ first take on Cardew relays melancholy and hope, maybe more so than anywhere else on Plays. The first piece features delicate organ drones gradually rising to the heavens, each tone blooming, exhaling, before finally giving ground to another. Behind the syrupy layers of warmth, an in(con)sistent rattle pokes imprints in the gloss, adding an air of uncertainty to the euphoric foreground. The two contrary, but hardly conflicting, sounds lend an intricate sense of depth to the piece, with each party respecting the other’s space.

The mood changes quickly. An ethereal mist settles over the second Cardew piece, clinging to drawn-out ambient vocals. While the first piece may have reflected Cardew’s initial gift, this muddled pool of sound seems to hint at confusion or vacillation. Cardew certainly seemed lost at the end of his life, spurning his prior experiments in the avant-garde in favor of Maoist agitprop designed for the proletariat. Ehlers’ disorienting production here aptly captures Cardew’s beautiful, but troubled mind, aimlessly writhing in its own profundity.

The Fichte compositions mark a dramatic departure and establish the variety of emotion on Plays. Ehlers shifts from the claustrophobic cosmos of Cardew to a more wide open, spacious approach on Fichte. While Ehlers tried his best to fill the Cardew with too many ideas, Fichte’s piece relies on the tension between silence and near silence. The first section begins with a high-frequency pitch opposed by lower register clicks. As the song progresses, more sounds come out to play, steadily piling up layers of clicks, chirps and swooshes, but the production only enhances a sense of loneliness. All of these characters are kept in the background to compete for a supporting role behind the silence. Fichte, in life, prided himself on outsider status, and Ehlers’ homage here looks beyond the philosophy and the poetry and anthropology, and instead paints a portrait of the man trapped in a solitude beyond his control.

The second Fichte piece explodes out of the gate, relatively speaking, with sounds ousting silence as the protagonist. In fact, one could even make the argument there’s a speaking role present. A distorted horn of some sort, squawking like the teacher in Charlie Brown, babbles throughout the piece while treated strings, guitars and not-quite-piercing tones swirl the periphery. The horn’s oration is affecting, evading cadences in typical beat poet fashion. Unpredictable, yet strangely groovy, of all the compositions on Plays, this may be the most impressive; a Poem Electronique for a fallen compatriot.

Switching skills again, Ehlers’ interpretation of Cassavetes work strips away the freeform in favor of ambient stasis. Both Cassavetes pieces involve orchestral loops, similar to the dreamworlds of Stars of the Lid, especially their work circa The Tired Sounds of… The first Cassavetes composition ebbs and flows underneath a varnish of audible hiss, as if unearthed from some Hollywood catacomb. While the string section loops with metronomic consistency, Ehlers surrounds the synths with digital duststorms, similar to Christian Fennesz’s Endless Summer. What the second piece lacks in sophistication, it makes up with emotion. Once the loop settles, the strings march steadily onward for close to 10 minutes before Ehlers slowly disassembles. The Cassavetes EP, while simplistic compared to the rest of Plays, establishes and maintains a dramatic, triumphant edge quite well.

Drama only begins to describe Ehlers' take on Ayler. One would logically expect a variation on Ayler’s intense, magically demented reed playing. Yet, Ehlers only hints at Ayler’s chaotic blasts, scattering brief flurries throughout the two pieces. Rather than focus on Ayler’s fiery, over-the-top semantics, the overlying theme here is positively chilling – downright Hitchcockian. German cellist Anka Hirsch performs Ehlers' composition, sculpting dark alleys where there should be light. The pace is achingly slow, cautious even. Lacquered glitches drip somewhere in the shadows. Even when rapid-fire staccatos emerge, the cello remains ever-present, casting an ominous tone over the proceedings.

On first listen, this interpretation seems all too peculiar. Given additional thought and different perspective, however, these pieces fit perfectly. Ehlers' Plays series is not a reinterpretation of its subjects’ music or accomplishments; these are reflections on the humans themselves: Cardew’s psychosis; Fichte’s loneliness; Cassavetes’ rebellion. And so with Ayler, these sonic frescoes aren’t necessarily strictly homage to his revolutionary take on jazz. Ehler, instead, has vividly recreated Ayler’s mysterious demise. The piece reeks of death. No one knows for sure how Ayler ended up in the East River, whether he was murdered or suicidal, and Ehlers' terrorstocked memoire only perpetuates the mystery. Music rarely sounds this disturbing.

The final installment is the Robert Johnson 7”, which features two four-minute ditties capturing the two sides of the Delta-blues pioneer. The first is a dusty piece of guitar virtuosity, restrained but hardly solemn. It’s been said Johnson was the greatest guitar player folks had ever seen, and the intimidating feel of this piece seems to reflect that. The second Robert Johnson is a straight-up micro-haus hoedown, with a distorted vocal hoot serving as the hook. Johnson’s sexy reputation and hedonist persona oozes forth over the track’s four minutes, but, much like Johnson’s life, ends much too early and without warning.

Plays has to be one of the more ambitious undertakings of the past year and Ehlers succeeds on every level. These recordings honor past artists with both emotion and innovation. One can study its overwhelming abstract complexities or simply bask in its passion. Either way, there’s little doubt Plays stands as one of the most unique and welcome tributes in a long time. Otis Hart

1. Cornelius Cardew (1)
2. Cornelius Cardew (2)
3. Hubert Fichte (1)
4. Hubert Fichte (2)
5. John Cassavetes (1)
6. John Cassavetes (2)
7. Albert Ayler (1)
8. Albert Ayler (2)
9. Robert Johnson (1)
10. Robert Johnson (2)

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The Rolling Stones - Let it Bleed (1969)

"Proving that [The Rolling Stones' previous album] Beggars Banquet wasn't a fluke, the Stones actually expand on the formula introduced on that classic record of '68 by playing even looser acoustic jams and tightening up the rockers until they are positively terrifying! Okay, they aren't terrifying at all, but darn it, you read enough critiques of this album that call "Gimme Shelter" and "Midnight Rambler" terrifying and, by golly, after a while, you start to believe it! Still, "Gimme Shelter" is an awfully spooky way to start off an album. Ever heard it? A scary quiet electric guitar line introduces it, then some voices go "ooo ooo ooo" and a threatening sorta lead guitar line comes in, then it all kicks together and Mick sings "ooo, a storm is threatening my very life today / If I don't get some shelter, you know, I'm gonna fade away!!!" Boo! Spookin'!

But that's about the extent of it, really. If you survive that one, the rest of the record is much more welcoming. Their stunning cover of the old blues standard "Love In Vain" shows exactly how far they've come since their early days as a fast-paced "blues" combo, "Country Honk" hicks up their hit single "Honky Tonk Women," "Live With Me" has a groovy-as-horseshoes bass line, and the title track is absolutely gross ("we all need someone we can cream on / and if you want to, well, you can cream on me!"). Plus, "Monkey Man" is a cool piano-guitar rocker, "You Got The Silver" features weak vocals courtesy of Keith, and if you're looking for epics, just stop here for a moment. "Midnight Rambler" is a seven-minute celebration of mass murder set to a sinister rockin' beat (with eerie slide guitar laid on top!) and "You Can't Always Get What You Want" is a gospel song! A real honest-to-goodness gospel song! And good? Ho! Ever heard Joan Osborne's "What If God Was One Of Us?" Imagine the exact opposite. IT'S THAT GOOD! An earthy bluesy country real-life no B.S. American album made by a bunch of British drug addicts. Go figure. And check out the album cover. Their best ever. Better than the zipper, even.

Oh yeah. They threw out Brian Jones while they were making this album. A couple of months later, he drowned in a swimming pool."

Mark Prindle, markprindle.com

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