The Musical Concern
Nick Lowe
The Brentford Trilogy
(July 21, 2001 – Yep Roc Records)

What the world needs now is Lowe, Nick Lowe! Hot on the heels of 2007’s At My Age, we’re ready for what comes next. Only, this is a box set comprised of the three studio albums leading up to the aforementioned. Okay, the world will just have to make do with bonus tracks, unpolished gems, and the glorious abortions typically found on such audio documents. Only, there aren’t any. The Brentford Trilogy is a straight-up repackaging of The Impossible Bird (1994), Dig My Mood (1998), and The Convincer (2001), plus a 12-page booklet and a handsome box to keep everything in.

With The Impossible Bird, Lowe stepped away from the novel, pub rock adventures he shared with Dave Edmunds and Rockpile, and began a lengthy exploration of Sam Cooke soul, Tennessee twang, and Countrypolitan homage. Along the road (more so on Dig My Mood) he flirted with the orchestrated Americana of Hoagy Carmichael and the vocal styling of Roy Orbison – the crooning, (nonexistent) baritone version of Roy Orbison. Seven years of poking and prodding came together, magnificently, in The Convincer, and Lowe emerged as the country gentleman of singer-songwriters.

Lowe’s appreciation for genre and performance is in itself admirable. But his mastery of vocal timing will make you slap your momma. His prowess as a producer is evident throughout the set, and smartly displayed on “Homewrecker,” the opening track from The Convincer. Other must-hear pieces include the opening three tracks from ‘Bird: “Soulful Wind,” “The Beast In Me” (up for nomination as Lowe’s magnum opus and covered by Johnny Cash in the Rick Rubin years,) and a better-than-the-original cover of “True Love Travels On A Gravel Road.” The smoky lounge piano of “You Inspire Me” followed by a lazy rocking soul number, “What Lack Of Love Has Done,” make for a good stopover on Dig My Mood.

Aspiring songwriters and producers would do themselves, not to mention their public, a great service by making a study of what makes Nick tick. Above all, have some reverence. After that, love the stuff and forget your MyFace page…if only for a decade or so.

Nick Lowe (On Songwriting)


JH

Digging Up Bones
The Multiple Cat
The Secret of the Secret of the Multiple Cat
(May 16, 2006 – Futureappletree)

“Hey, Review Guy! Why ya favoring a 16-song record, when you’ve pouted and whined about lengthy albums in the past?”

Well hold on a second, smartass; this one’s an anthology, so it’s okay.

Comprised mostly of ‘90s releases, The Secret Of The Secret Of The Multiple Cat explores the musical mind of one Patrick B. Stolley, a self-described “recordist” from Iowa. After The Multiple Cat, Stolley reappeared with The Marlboro Chorus. He’s now running his own studio, Future Appletree Too, in Davenport.

Lusciously out of focus, this collection is perfect for the indie pop historian with attention deficit disorder. Pop progressions from the 70s play tag with new wave rhythms and disco bass lines. There’s pure pop here, punk there. Jazzy chord inversions brush against an occasional acoustic strum, while real horns fight it out with a plethora of guitar textures. I can see Marsha Brady dancing with herself in the mirror as the lightly funky strains of “Nineteen Ten” waft from the beige plastic radio (perched knowingly) on her nightstand.

The temptation is to start listing “sound-a-likes.” But that list could go on for a couple of columns and not do justice. Better to leave it at this: If you gorged yourself on indie pop in the 90s, then what’s a pound to an elephant? Go ahead; enjoy another 16 pieces of indie ear candy, you’ll love yourself in the morning.


Patrick Stolley on Myspace

Future Appletree

JH

The Gulf Coast Dispatch
If You Believe…

A while back, in Amsterdam, I had an occasion to stop by an establishment of questionable repute. It wasn’t one of those places, per say, but… Put it this way: part of the show was a man and a woman making love on a portable mattress. (Mind you, this was a storefront “theatre” on a well-traveled street.)

There was a stage where the couple performed, and a seating arrangement of church pews. That’s what they were. Church pews. No other way to describe it.

Behind my pew, a contingent of Asian businessmen (in suits, no less) enjoyed Heinekens, the native beer. The principles began, and the soundtrack to the act was all manner of completely forgettable pop songs.

All forgettable, but one.

In the middle of the show R.E.M.’s “Man On The Moon” came blaring through the speakers and the businessmen lost it. They got to their feet and, with great zeal, began to sing along. “If you berieve/They put a man on the moon/Maaan on the moon!” Lost in the moment, they (and I) forgot all about the copulating couple and gave themselves over to the most awesome song ever.

Clinking glasses, dancing in the pews, and one (word-for-word) perfect sing-along.

I thought about this on Monday, the 40th anniversary of the moon landing.

Know what? Some humans are way cool.

JH