THE GOODS

A lot of Irish music is dour; its obsession with questions of mortality and faith can constitute too much baggage for the average Joe. But you'll get none of that from Arcady. This is a dance band, albeit a traditional one, and its members never forget it. The result is reels, jigs and songs that are as good as finding a lucky charm.

The Country Gentlemen, Sugar Hill Collection
The Gentlemen--Charlie Waller, Bill Yates, Doyle Lawson, James Bailey, Rick Allred and Kent Dowell--are relatively young men, but on these twenty tracks, they manage to tap into the essential, unknowable something first manifested by their bluegrass forebears. Proof that they can make music like they used to, so long as they put their minds to it.

Martin Hayes, Under the Moon
Another Irish performer, Hayes is a fiddler who uses his instrument to investigate the shadowy aspects of his native music on tunes with names like "Bony Crossing the Alps" and "Kitty Come Down to Limerick." They can certainly be downbeat at times, but they're stimulating in ways that remain mysterious. That's the secret to their potency.

Pete & Maura Kennedy, River of Fallen Stars
There's absolutely nothing new about what Pete and Maura pour into this River; all they do is play and sing ditties, mainly of their own composition, as simply and with as much feeling as they can muster. And because the songs are good and Maura's voice is so lithe and knowing, they don't need to do anything else.

Bob Wiseman, In-By-Of
Some of Wiseman's contributions clearly resemble what we've come to think of as folk: "Me an Arrow," for instance, or "White Dress," which begins with the killer line, "Luisa, I admire how you stand next to those liars." But this idiosyncratic Canadian singer-songwriter refuses to be hemmed in--he's an anarchist with a six-string. The one constant? Wiseman is never, ever boring.

HARD ROCK/METAL Alice in Chains, Alice in Chains
When this LP hits its stride (and it does so often enough to appear here), Alice in Chains seems ready to move beyond its grunge origins into a region wholly its own. The transition isn't complete, but the bandmates are confident enough in their abilities to venture onto fairly alien soundscapes. May the journey continue.

Monster Magnet, Dopes to Infinity
Monster Magnet doesn't have much to say, but the players say it eloquently on "Negasonic Teenage Warhead," "Look to Your Orb for the Warning" and other day-trippers. At the same time, they recognize that big riffs, psychedelic squiggles and general nuttiness never go out of style. Stoopid is as stoopid does--and on Dopes, that's just great.

Mudhoney, My Brother the Cow
Fun isn't something most people associate with the Seattle scene (heroin isn't exactly the quickest route to a good time), but that's what My Brother is: How can you dislike an album that starts with a tune called "Judgment, Rage, Retribution and Thyme"? Mark Arm's offhandedness implies disposability, but these rockers hold up quite well.

Tad, Infrared Riding Hood
Jack Endino, the dial twister who produced Nirvana's Bleach (and the latest Mudhoney), knows how to capture these guys: Leave the tape rolling and get out of the way. The guitar parts fly at you in enormous slabs, and Tad (credited on the liner notes with "screams") writes lyrics that are just as dangerous. The meek should steer clear.

Tenderloin, Bullseye
Like a corn-fed ZZ Top on crank, Tenderloin takes bluesy elements, supercharges them and flings them back at an unsuspecting public. It's not terribly authentic, but that matters not a whit when the CD is spitting out "Alabama Hammer" and the other bare-knucklers on Bullseye. It hits the target.

JAZZ
Clusone Trio, I Am an Indian
Reed expert Michael Moore, cellist/vocalist Ernst Reijseger and percussionist Han Bennink are intellectuals, which is not always a good thing when it comes to music as spontaneous as jazz. But they're playful, too, and it's this property that provides the glue holding these numbers--by Irving Berlin, Bud Powell, Herbie Nichols and the trio--together.

Ornette Coleman & Prime Time, Tone Dialing
Coleman has been ahead of the curve since the late Fifties, and he shows no signs of falling behind now. Tone Dialing is a saucy, inventive opus that goes from Bach to funk and back again, and Coleman and his band (overseen by his son, drummer Denardo) handle each with assurance. Ornette may be growing older, but you'll find no rust on him.

Charlie Haden and Hank Jones, Steal Away: Spirituals, Hymns and Folk Songs
Bop-era pianist Jones and Haden, a bassist who cut his teeth with Ornette Coleman, would seem to share few musical sensibilities, but Steal Away establishes common ground between them. These understated readings of melodies from America's younger days vibrate with understanding, empathy and fellowship. A beauty.

Greg Osby, Black Book
We've heard plenty of jazzy hip-hop from rappers, but seldom has this amalgamation been approached from the opposite direction. Osby, a young saxophonist whose previous efforts haven't been this risky, pulls it off with aid from rappers Sha-Key and Mustafo, DJ Ghetto on the wheels of steel and a solid jazz crew. A convincing hybrid.

Henry Threadgill, Makin' a Move
Jazz-radio programmers are still frightened of Threadgill, and well they should be: He's never going to cave in to the lowered expectations that make so much of the music produced in this genre safe and soulless. On his own or in combination with the Very Very Circus, an energetic ensemble that includes a French horn and two tubas, Threadgill keeps pushing the music forward.

MISCELLANEOUS
Electric Company, A Pert Cyclic Omen
Brad Laner--whose main combo, Medicine, is good for what ails you--engages in electronic tomfoolery that's a real jolt to your system. There's an industrial edge to some of these offerings, but don't even try pigeonholing it; Laner's too canny for that. So call it wonderfully outlandish and settle back to enjoy the mayhem.

Herb Jeffries, The Bronze Buckaroo (Rides Again)
Jeffries is a footnote in movie history--the first black singing cowboy on film. But this CD is more than a novelty. Jeffries can really warble, and he catches the heart and humor of Western music as well as or better than any of the other revivifiers out there right now. He's still at home in the saddle.

The Mermen, A Glorious Lethal Euphoria
Wow. In a year that's seen a pile of new rock-instrumental releases, this is the one on top, in large part because it's the most radical. The Mermen don't settle for regurgitating old surf-guitar runs; they ignite them with lessons learned at the School of Noise. Let one of their song titles serve as the final word: "With No Definite Future and No Purpose Other Than to Prevail Somehow..."

Bill Nelson, Practically Wired, or How I Became... Guitarboy!
The former ax-wielder for Be-Bop Deluxe puts the words away and stretches out in a string-flailing frenzy. Always a versatile tunesmith, Nelson comes up with a blizzard of guitar textures and synthetic environments that serve as a testimonial to his undimmed talents.

Jimmie Rivers and the Cherokees, Featuring Vance Terry, Western Swing, 1961-64: Brisbane Pop

Western swing is not what you'd call the most aggressive style of music to come around the bend. But on Brisbane, Rivers and the Cherokees, a regional fave from way back when, aren't pushovers: They race through every number as if they're readying for a brawl--or furnishing the score for one. A roadhouse evening on a platter (Joaquin Records, 254 Scott Street, San Francisco, CA 94117).

R&B/SOUL
Jazz Lee Alston, Jazz Lee Alston
This is only an EP, but it carries more weight than most double albums. Alston, an intimate of Sir Mix-a-Lot, has something of the young Billie Holiday about her: She prefers jazzy accompaniment, and her sing-speak never goes for cheap effects. Most of all, her lyrics matter to her--and after you hear them, to you.

D'Angelo, Brown Sugar
The cover boy of the nu-soul revolution, D'Angelo has the studio sagacity of the young Prince (back before he misplaced his name). He composed, arranged, produced and performed everything on Brown Sugar, but for all that, the disc doesn't seem insular. His grooves breathe, his vocals (often in falsetto) convey a tangible sexuality, and his songs, though somewhat sketchy at times, show tremendous promise. Sweet stuff.

Toshi Kubota, Sunshine, Moonlight
Producer Kubota gets a little help from his friends on Sunshine--the guest list features Nile Rodgers, Caren Wheeler and others. These contributions provide the lusty edge that synthesizers usually fail to replicate. Alternately torrid and tender, with no mechanical aftertaste.

Maxamillion, Take Your Time
A'Lisa, Duran and Tommye--the men and woman of Maxamillion--come across like Ashford & Simpson in a menage a trois. There are a few rap and reggae touches, but for the most part, the threesome wrap their expressive chords around gorgeous R&B hooks. Listen twice to their cover of "Sexual Healing" and call me in the morning.

Stepchild, Stepchild
Youngsters from the hip-hop galaxy who feel there's more to life than the beat, the five Stepchildren combine street savvy with an innate knowledge of harmony that never devolves into Boyz II Men phoniness. The key track, "Fuckin' Wit Me," tells the story: Fluid music, beautiful singing and a profane chorus that keeps it all honest.

RAP
Fun-Da-Mental, Seize the Time
This is not the type of album that sounds like a man alone with his drum machine: Fun-Da-Mental gives us a dense, thunderous mix that uses live instrumentalists, masterfully chosen samples and multicultural musical sources. Also bracing is the decision to put together vigorously political lyrics whose anger is actually directed at the folks who deserve it.

Hurricane, The Hurra
Hurricane may not pen the most noteworthy lyrics in rap, but he's got imposing mike skills and some pretty lively friends--among them the Beastie Boys, with whom Hurricane has worked for the past several years. The Boys return the favor on "Four Fly Guys," but while that cut is The Hurra's benchmark, it's hardly the only one worth giving a spin.

Kam, Made in America
Kam is the kind of rhyme slinger Minister Farrakhan (sampled on the opening number here) prefers to Compton gangbangers. Made in America makes you understand why: Kam is articulate and topical, and even if his viewpoints can seem anti-white at times, they're not without wisdom. Plus, the man's funky, period.

Ol' Dirty Bastard, Return to the 36 Chambers: The Dirty Version
The Bastard, reared in the Wu-Tang Clan, has a special gift: one of the oddest voices you'll ever hear. His timbre (raw), his delivery (eccentric) and his taste in songs (kooky) all help differentiate him from the millions of generic microphone masters out there--and he's funny, to boot. If you only buy one hardcore rap disc from 1995, make it this one.

Tricky, Maxinquaye
A middle finger aimed straight at conformity and creative slackness, Maxinquaye would stand out in any year thanks to Tricky's remarkable production approach--one that's fathered its own descriptive (trip-hop)--and the incredibly assured performances of vocalist Martine and his cast of supporting characters. But in a year as weak as 1995, it's a reassuring indication that things can, and will, get better.

REGGAE/WORLDBEAT
Boukman Eksperyans, Liberte (Pran Pou Pran'l!)/ Freedom (Let's Take It!)
Given the turmoil through which Haiti has suffered of late, it's no shock that the island has promulgated some very stimulating music. The Boukman Eksperyans, one of the few Haitian acts to make inroads internationally, uses the political situation there as the backbone for a dynamic, optimistic long-player.

Mad Professor, The African Connection
The Professor is stunningly prolific (he's issued at least half a dozen discs this year), and his acumen is not limited to a single area: He's at home revitalizing just about every class of reggae and dance music you care to name. Connection finds him working at the pinnacle of his form: He gives reggae bass-and-drum patterns a fortifying burst of studio-sparked energy.

Sierra Maestra, ÁDundunbanza!
Cuba's Sierra Maestra employs a nine-piece lineup that emulates the son bands of the Twenties--but its tumultuous, licentious brew is no antique. The music's structure is flexible enough to allow for ecstatic soloing, but at its base, the bongos, maracas and other percussion devices keep everything moving. Including you.

Kante Manfila, Ni Kanu
Manfila is well-known to aficionados of world music: He and Salif Keita, another valuable artist, formed the West African combo Les Ambassadeurs in 1971. On his own, Manfila is equal to the task at hand; his singing and guitar playing are beautifully elastic, and his arrangements open up the music to Western ears without compromising its indigenous complexion.

The Justin Vali Trio, The Truth (Ny Marina)
From Madagascar, Vali and his fellow pluckers generate an airy, delectable sound whose high registers have the effect of lifting you skyward. For a music that puts so little emphasis on traditional percussion, it's extremely rhythmic and danceable, and so full of mirth and camaraderie that it could turn a bad mood around in about two minutes flat.

REISSUES
Robyn Hitchcock, I Often Dream of Trains
Over the course of 1995, Rhino launched all of Hitchcock's Eighties recordings, many of which had been hard to find. There's a slew of them to recommend, but Trains is probably the best. "Sometimes I Wish I Was a Pretty Girl," "Uncorrected Personality Traits," "Furry Green Atom Bowl" and the five bonus tracks clustered at disc's end showcase a Hitchcock with all his contradictions showing.

Ken Nordine, Colors
Colors is an example of truth in advertising. In fact, the album's tunes were intended as advertising--for a paint company that found what Nordine did with the concept far too bizarre for marketing purposes. They were right: These poetic fragments are weirdness incarnate. And that's why you'll want to hear them.

Sonny Rollins, Sonny Rollins & Co. 1964
This is just barely a reissue: Of its thirteen songs, seven first appeared under this banner, while the other six hadn't been released in the U.S. The first of the latter, "Django (Take 8)," finds Rollins, a musical sponge, trying Albert Ayler on for size. Elsewhere, he demonstrates why he's among the ten most important saxophone players in jazz.

Otis Spann, Down to Earth: The Bluesway Recordings
You know you're not talking about just any blues dude with Spann: After all, Muddy Waters served as one of his sidemen on these sides, recorded live and in the studio in 1966 and 1967. A pianist of awesome skill, Spann is often overlooked, but his keyboard style has become a Chicago-blues staple.

Frank Vincent Zappa, Lumpy Gravy
Subtitled A curiously inconsistent piece which started out to be a BALLET but probably didn't make it and co-credited to the "Abnucleals Emuukha Electric Symphony Orchestra & Chorus," Zappa's 1967 piece (broken into two halves) isn't as assured as his later excursions into collage. And that's okay by us, because the CD has a sense of discovery about it that's exhilarating.

ROCK/POP
The Apples, Fun Trick Noisemaker
Don't discriminate against them just because they live here: The Apples are making music that's every bit as bubbly as any of the country's other popmeisters. Fun Trick Noisemaker has a dozen potential singles in the midst of thirteen tunes--a pretty good average--but the production cleverly avoids revealing all of its pleasures upon first listen. Spend some time with it and you'll be paid back in spades.

Emmylou Harris, Wrecking Ball
She's got good songs (written by Neil Young, Bob Dylan, Steve Earle, Anna McGarrigle and the like). She's got a good producer (auteur/Peter Gabriel protege Daniel Lanois). She's got a good (no, a great) voice. And Emmylou Harris has got something else--an indefinable knack for knowing what makes an album work. This one does, like gangbusters.

Chris Mars, Tenterhooks
While a member of the Replacements, Mars took a backseat to Paul Westerberg--and on his previous solo albums, he seemed unable to cut it on his own. Tenterhooks begs for reconsideration. It's an enigmatic pop gem swollen with satisfying songs and brainy studio shenanigans. Even Westerberg might be impressed.

Bruce Springsteen, The Ghost of Tom Joad
Just when you thought it was time to find a new Boss, Springsteen goes and makes a record that reminds you why so many people pinned their hopes and dreams on him in the first place. It's ultra-depressing, sure, but Joad is also life-affirming--for Springsteen, and for his listeners. A return to Nebraska you won't mind taking.

Matthew Sweet, 100% Fun
Sweet's last album may not have been a gutter ball, but he sure as hell didn't pick up the spare. So calling this followup 100% Fun took some moxie. It was harder still to make that title ring true, but Sweet makes it look easy. He claims to be sick of himself, but we could listen for hours. May we be able to say that more often in 1996.

end of part 2