Bob Dylan - Border Beneath The Sun (1992)
FLAC (tracks), Lossless | 2:24:43 | 892 Mb
Genre: Folk Rock
FLAC (tracks), Lossless | 2:24:43 | 892 Mb
Genre: Folk Rock
Pavillon de Paris, Paris, France 6 July, 1978
Su | Mo | Tu | We | Th | Fr | Sa |
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29 | 30 | 31 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |
5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |
12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 |
19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 |
26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 1 |
Following a few years after Levee Town, an album tightly focused on a specific place and time, Landreth dedicates The Road We're On to the more intangible magic of the blues. The music this time scans a vast panorama, from the Texas shuffle of "All About You" and zydeco pulse of "Gone Pecan" through the tub-thump beat of some Bayou dive on "Juke Box Mamma." Aside from a couple of cuts on which he plays standard guitar, Landreth fills this album with wizardly slide work: A shimmering lick at the end of "A World Away" provides the most gorgeous sonic moment, though his extended jam on the environmental call to arms "Natural World" sustains a high level of intensity through several choruses. On most of these tracks Landreth performs in a raw trio setting, almost all the time recording live; on "Hell at Home" he even keeps the scratch vocal, rather than overdub a fresh version, because the four-beat groove, reminiscent of "Walking Blues" on Paul Butterfield's East-West, is so in-the-pocket.
John Jenkins: yet another seventeenth century English composer who deserves to be more widely known. This delightful CD from The Consort of Musicke directed by Trevor Jones is no dutiful study of a hidden but rather uninspiring corner of English early Baroque consort music; rather, a mosaic – rich in color and shape, carefully crafted and full of surprises. Listen, for instance, to the unpretentious, jaunty and appropriately figurative progress through the Saraband (52, tr.6) and the restrained melancholy of the Fancy-Air (4, tr.7). Jenkins' counterpoint is well-wrought, his instrumental palette fresh and crisp and his melodies catchy without being fey or superficial in any way. He is in excellent hands with the Consort of Musicke… eight string players of the caliber of Monica Huggett and Alison Crum violins; Alan Wilson organ and Anthony Rooley theorbo. If fresh, beautiful, expertly-played English consort music appeals to you, don't hesitate to get this gem of a CD – actually a reissue of a Decca disc from 1983: it's unreservedly recommended.
Maneuvering between grandiose retro motifs and a surprising sincerity, Michelle Gurevich’s songs are tragicomic, melody-driven, sentimental and suspended in shadowy glamour. Having released 3 albums under the moniker of Chinawoman, she now continues as Michelle Gurevich. She combines dark realism with humour in smoky and intimate ballads delivered with cutting and fatalistic lyrics. Her story began when her bedroom-produced debut album Party Girl, by some fateful unknown hand was delivered to the land of her forefathers, and soon made its way blaring from the yachts of Russian billionaires and as the ringtones of mothers all over the Ukraine. Her music has drawn comparisons to Nico and Leonard Cohen, with a voice akin to Tanita Tikaram. Decadent, dramatic and earnest, vintage keyboards and synth strings offer the solitary rendition of a grand experience, and a voice always upfront delivers motifs familiar yet impossible to pinpoint from the great soup of European chanson.
The pairing of Igor Stravinsky's ballets Petrushka (1911) and Jeu de cartes (1937) may afford insights into his development of neoclassical style, which was anticipated in the former work and stated fully in the latter. Indeed, the bright and tuneful music of both ballets tends toward playfulness, clever parody, and colorful scoring, all characteristic of neoclassicism, and the scenarios – a marionette that comes to life in Petrushka, and the personification of playing cards in Jeu de cartes – suggest a further connection, perhaps even to Stravinsky's notions of musical objectivity.
Fifteen years on from his earlier recording of Bach’s three Sonatas for viola da gamba and harpsichord (on Harmonia Mundi, alongside Rinaldo Alessandrini), Paolo Pandolfo is now returning to this repertory with a thoroughly-rethought approach, the fruit of active and concentrated years of consideration, study and research into the inherent possibilities of his instrument. Given the basic differing natures of these two instruments, the performance of these works very often turns – in Pandolfo’s words – into a “musical argument”, rather than what is demanded by the music’s essential nature: a “musical conversation” in which the score achieves “transparency and eloquence”.