Consumer Guide: September, 2024

Louis Armstrong lively ups London in '68, the Unholy Modal Rounders do the same to NYC in '77, Chris Smither sings into the void, and Morgan Wade sings with sweetness about the ones that got away.

Laurie Anderson: Amelia (Nonesuch) Spoken words over changeable atmospherics and effects, some instrumental and on occasion even almost melodic, add up to formally coherent aural nutrition you experience as both musical construct and feminist history. The protagonist is Amelia Earhart, dubbed "first lady of the skies" after she became the first person of her gender to pilot an airplane across the Atlantic in 1928. As Anderson sees no reason to go into—this is only a single CD, after all—Earhart quickly became a celebrity, which she made work for her during the nine years between her cross-Atlantic feat and her doomed 1938 attempt to circle the globe with navigator Fred Noonan, a rendering of which dominates Amelia. Even today no one really knows exactly what became of Earhart's plane, which disappeared in the vicinity of an isolated island in the western Pacific. But for Anderson her courage and ambition retain their heroism even in what can only be called her failure. And her music makes you feel that. A MINUS

Louis Armstrong: Louis in London (Verve) There are more Satchmo albums than any non-historian can keep track of much less comprehend. I have two definitive early box sets in my office and 19 single- or double-disc jobs on my living room A shelves, and no, I don't play them all. But now make that 21 with the two addressed here and yes, those I'll surely put on again, especially this single-disc 2024 copyright from July, 1968, which will surely be top 10 at year's end. It's one of Armstrong's last recordings—although having finally recovered from debilitating 1965 dental work, he couldn't resist touring behind 1967's career best-selling single "What a Wonderful World," which you can call corny only with Louis that word never applies. Yes, the then-recent Broadway and Hollywood specials "Mame" and "The Bare Necessities" are both kind of thin, but he nonetheless sings them like someone who's both happy and proud to be alive, which at 66 still means very much alive. Other standouts include the familiar "When It's Sleepy Time Down South" opener and the stone classic "Rockin' Chair." Armstrong continued to tour till the fall of 1968, rebuilt his strength for a spell, returned to the road in 1970, played the Waldorf in March, 1971, and died at 69 some four months later. He spent the last night of his life dubbing recordings to tape. I wonder whether any of them was up to the standard of this gem, but that would be too much to ask. A

Louis Armstrong and His All-Stars: Ambassador Satch (Columbia/Legacy '09) Recorded during Amsterdam and Milan dates of the great one's autumn 1955 European tour, which some claim did more for world peace than the Geneva Summit, this 1956 release stands with its thorough George Avakian notes as the quintessential Satchmo-in-Europe document even though it's carefully edited to augment classics no one could claim he'd worn out. Sidemen include titans like Trummy Young on trombone and Arvell Shaw on bass as well as less renowned pros like the able Ed Hall on clarinet and the ever-hyperactive Barrett Deems on drums. A folk song called "The Faithful Hussar" that Armstrong picked up in Germany proves a surprise highlight, and the three CD-only bonus tracks are by no means de trop. One for the collection. A MINUS

Bluesin' by the Bayou: Ain't Broke, Ain't Hungry (Ace) Not a stone keeper or bum track in 28 selections because that's how Louisiana r&b once rolled (Polka Dot Slim, "Ain't Broke, Ain't Hungry"; Jimmy Anderson & the Joy Jumpers, "Angel Please") ***

Zach Bryan: The Great American Bar Scene (Warner) Bryan is such an affable singer and fluent songwriter that no matter how fond he is of bars (and between his busted nose and his broken heart he's got his reservations), I suggest he start his promised health kick by attending to his lungs not his liver—cigarettes are killers. Yes he can write even sharper songs and has already proved it. But losing his money to a bookie or calculating the distance between his beating heart and the bullshit on late-night TV, noting that the only outlaw he ever met was in the Marines with him, inviting John Mayer onboard as if he's doing him a favor although Springsteen is obviously a different story, wondering whether God is a person or the sound of laughter in a place he's yet to find, he's self-evidently a country singer who'll be around so long he'll eventually be too big for the category. A MINUS

Joe Fahey: Andrea's Exile (Rough Fish) Did he fix the coffee wrong? Forget to feed the fish? What sparked the domestic crisis that left this mild, melodic, politically conscious Twin Cities singer-songwriter mourning the departed Andrea, whose calico and Birkenstocks he can't get off his mind? "There's just nothing to prepare you to take the stand at a lover's trial/No sadness greater than the crash then the silence of Andrea's exile," he knows now. Can they still achieve "a life of love and laughter" or has that horse has left the stable? His tenderness and regret are so palpable that the softy in me hereby urges him not to give up yet. B PLUS

Georgia Sea Island Singers: The Complete Friends of Old Time Music Concert (Smithsonian Folkways) Variously musical, occasionally all too righteous live 1963 distillation/amalgamation of Caribbean gospel and folk-era blues ("Marching on the Mississippi Line," "Buzzard Lope [Dance]") **

Illuminati Hotties: Power (Hopeless) Since it's pretty much inevitable that an entire album of songs about love that's not quite working out won't quite work out either, you have to give Sarah Tudzin credit for having the guts to risk it and condolences for the disappointments you hope she's chronicling rather than experiencing. "I'm everything you wanted except I've never been dishonest," she observes. So "I'm falling in love with somebody better," she reports—or anyway, hopes. B PLUS

Khaligraph Jones: Invisible Currency (Boomplay) Catchily Afropop-inflected Kenyan rapper a/k/a/ Papa Jones occasionally essays English like he has bigger dreams, and I don't just mean Nigeria ("Kamnyweso," "Tsunami," "Hiroshima") **

Kate Nash: Nine Sad Symphonies (Kill Rock Stars) Not actually symphonies, of course, but arranged "symphonically," and as for sad, just because love is hard doesn't mean it can't end happily sometimes, so give her credit for keeping her hopes up ("Vampyre," "Ray," "Space Odyssey 2001") ***

Romy: Mid Air (Young) XX's distaff half asks YY she can't make a catchy, romantic pop-dance record like the ones that lured her into music lo these many years ago ("Loveher," "Enjoy Your Life," "She's on My Mind") ***

Chris Smither: All About the Bones (Signature Sounds) I'd lost track of this of this gravel-voiced singer-songwriter who I'd always admired and often enjoyed as he faded from my view. He got his last A from me in 1999 and his last review in 2009. But 15 years later, as he prepares to turn 80 in November I note that I'm two and a half years ahead of him and more than happy to aver that he has every right to write a bunch of songs about the nearness of death—especially, in my view, when he's vocal about the about the blessings of love that sustains. Take for just one example these conclusions from "In the Bardo" even if you're getting a little tired of how often the bardo turns up as veteran musicians approach the big 8-0 not to mention the bigger-than-that nothing. "Any day now, any day now/At the ending of the long haul/Just before the long fall down/I will listen for the warning/The evening will be morning before long." Because as he sees it: "This is how it happens, no one's doing this to you/The something goes to nothing, the nothing goes to something new." Could be. Really, could be. A MINUS

Unholy Modal Rounders: Unholier Than Thou 7/7/77 (DG) Live at the Bottom Line decades ago, a surprise treasure: two discs comprising 31 songs, 25 of them non-Have Moicy! Plentiful Peter Stampfel, zero Steve Weber, ample Charlie Messing, other regulars, many lesser guests and minor legends, plus a voluble multi-authored 20-page booklet replete with many contributors' tales of reliably offhand musical triumphs and the occasional fucked-up life. Then pushing 40, Stampfel's voice retains the cartoon clarity of the 1964-65 recordings of the actual Holy Modal Rounders' still findable 1 & 2 best-of. But any Have Moicy! fan who lets this opportunity pass him, her, or them by is missing the chance to hear such standouts not in my recall memory as "Low Down Dog," "Kansas City Kitty," "Dance a Little Longer," "Places Where You Never See the Snow," and the William Tell Overture. Plus, never forget this one: "Fucking Sailors in Chinatown." A

Morgan Wade: Obsessed (RCA) As with country women Carly Pearce and Megan Moroney, you think, aha, a bunch of solid, well-turned songs about crushes gone bad—only before long you also think, well-turned OK, but where's the sass, the spunk, the laugh line about shooting up his truck? And then it dawns on you that most of the time there's a lot more sweetness than horniness to the sexuality here and soon you Google "morgan wade lesbian" and it's aha time. I know, she's merely bi if that, and I'm a professional who's supposed to know these things going in. But I'm impressed by how subtly and gradually this subtext comes clear, and by the way, not much is made of it anyway. Inspirational Verse: "There's a mini bar in my room/I asked the hotel to take it out." Or: "You were a crazy little Pisces." Or: "I wrote all the songs/About the ones that got away." Or: "I like how you move your arms/When you're feeling stressed/Watch in the mirror when you're getting dressed." A MINUS

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