Late summer is the slack time for the recording industry, as the record companies gear up for the onslaught of autumn releases to carry them into the holidays. As a result, I don't have as much new music to bring you this time around. Therefore, after the new releases are a few of my personal favorites. I hope you like them too.
First, the new: This installment of Earth Tones features the soundtrack for the TNT television adaptation of The Mists of Avalon, recently reviewed in this very publication by the lovely Sylvana. The Putumayo World Music label brings us the Arabic Groove compilation, while Mondo Melodia offers Desert Roses & Arabian Rhythms. Meanwhile, Keiko Matsui's Deep Blue and Kelly Joe Phelps' Sky Like a Broken Clock offer some evocative, deeply moving music. On the local front, Middle Pillar presents Sivo from Portland ensemble Sumerland. In the personal favorites department, I bring you three: Áine Minogue's Circle of the Sun, some Japanese shakuhachi music and Nina Storey's Shades.
The score for The Mists of Avalon (Varese Sarabande) was composed by Lee Holdridge, and is as lush and dramatic a piece of work as one would expect, given the story it's meant to accompany. I hadn't yet seen the miniseries the first time I heard the music, but I had read the book on which it's based several times, and some of the selections are so evocative that one can easily imagine the events they accompany without ever having seen the adaptation, assuming that one is familiar with the particulars of the story (a pagan reimagining of Arthurian legend). Especially effective in this sense are "Running Up the Hill/Guinevere," "Vivienne's Death," and the pulse-pounding "Cave Ceremony"; listening to the latter, you can almost see the shadows leaping up the walls. This is, overall, a satisfying, lavishly romantic body of music, unusual among film scores for its ability to stand on its own.
If the liner notes to Arabic Groove (Putumayo) are anything to go by, Arabic and Arabic-influenced music is the next big thing. This compilation is a sampler of music that's playing the clubs -- and topping the charts -- in France, India, Brazil and other countries around the world. Arabic music doesn't seem to have hit the United States yet, but you can hear it spun in dance clubs here and there, a potential indicator of things to come. The artists included on this album represent Algeria, Morocco, Lebanon, Egypt and Libya; those familiar with the histories of some of these places will not be surprised that many of these songs are sung in French. Other than that, there's something very familiar about them. That's due to musical influence going both ways: If an Arabic influence is permeating popular music, the tropes of pop, hip-hop, R&B and electronica have already had an effect on the work of Arabic musicians. Thus. the opening of Amr Diab's "Amarain" features an Afro-Cuban beat that may remind listeners of the Rolling Stones' "Sympathy for the Devil," before the song goes all pop. Then there's "Kidda" from Natacha Atlas, singer for the Trans-Global Underground, which combines traditional Egyptian and Moroccan sounds with a highly modern dance aesthetic. While something of an acquired taste, Arabic Groove turns out to be addictively listenable, which helps to explain the growing popularity of the genre it showcases.
Atlas also appears on Desert Roses & Arabian Rhythms (Mondo Melodia), kicking things off with "Mon Amie La Rose," which combines Middle Eastern rhythms and harmonies with an aching French melody. This collection also includes "Desert Rose," a duet between Sting and Algerian star Cheb Mami and already a worldwide hit. Other contributors include Egypt's Hakim, Tunisian rising star Amina and ethno-techno pioneers Trans-Global Underground. Between this and Arabic Groove, you can summon a summertime feeling whenever you feel the need. Most of this music is also incredibly danceable, and some of it might do very well in dance- or fire-oriented ritual.
If you need a cooldown after all of that, may I suggest Deep Blue (Narada Jazz), the latest from jazz pianist Keiko Matsui? My boyfriend, a longtime fan, confessed amazement when I picked this up, knowing that the kind of music Narada puts out usually sets my teeth on edge. Matsui, however, is a happy exception. There's a certain superficial resemblance to what you might hear being played by a hired keyboardist in Nordstrom or the Bon during the holiday season, but the resemblance is only superficial; Matsui's music is possessed of a depth and drama that saves it from the vast wasteland known as lite jazz. To my mind, the principal crime of the latter is that it is so determined to be pleasant, it deliberately eschews all attempts at musical tension. Deep Blue, thankfully, is more adventurous, so that while this is fairly atmospheric, meditative stuff, it's also a pleasure to listen to. There are some nice touches, too: a distinctly Japanese tinge to "Water for the Tribe," for instance, and the cascades of notes in "Rose in Morocco." "Moonflower" opens in soft, silvery chords, just like its name, and "Mystic Dance" possesses just a touch of waltz. This is the essence of Matsui's music: deft touches, gentle movement and elegant flirtations of rhythm and harmony.
Equally elegant, although in a different way, is Kelly Joe Phelps' Sky Like a Broken Clock (Rykodisc). Originally hailing from Portland, Oregon, Phelps explores the web of interconnections between blues and folk, turning out collections of deceptively simple-sounding songs. The thing about masters of any craft, musical or otherwise, is this: They can do the most difficult things and make them look (or sound) as easy as breathing. So it is with Phelps, who did a lot of time in the progressive jazz world before turning to acoustic roots music. Folk music, as Terry Pratchett puts it, is not so much performed as perpetrated, but fortunately Phelps' light touch, unassuming vocal style and honest lyricism are no crimes. This is real folk, the down-to-the-bone kind that treads a fine line between darkness and light, and thus perfect for this time of year. A particular highlight is "Tommy," a ballad in the old-fashioned sense of the word, before the term came to be applied to any reasonably slow pop song. By drawing you into an inoffensive madman's world, the song takes you to a place where stealing candy to feed the mice by the radiator makes perfect sense -- and the ending, as with all of the best ballads, is both tragic and sweet.
Also from Portland, dark-'n'-ethereal act Sumerland released their first full-length CD, Sivo, on the fine Middle Pillar label last May. For those of you not familiar with this group, they're rather similar to Seattle expatriates Faith and Disease; there is much in the way of haunting melodies, atmospheric layers of sound and evocative vocals on Sivo. It's a bit like listening to the ocean, really; there's a constant wash of sound, but a dynamic rise and fall within it that keeps things interesting. The material consists of self-contained songs, such as "Bygones to the New Heaven," "Exalted City" and "Circle Dance," interspersed among less structured, moodier pieces, such as the appropriately-named "Interlude." These flow seamlessly from one to the next, creating a unified soundscape. Locally, the CD can be found at ADSR Musicwerks and Blood & Bone, both on Capitol Hill, or order online at http://www.middlepillar.com.
From my personal collection, I present Áine Minogue's Circle of the Sun (RCA/Victor). Minogue, a harpist, plays traditional Irish music and hails from Ireland herself, although she makes her home in New England. This collection of largely traditional pieces is among the best music for ritual I've encountered, whether you're going solo or with a group. It's arranged seasonally, with various pieces connected to different seasons and Irish holidays around the wheel of the year; the traditional "The Butterfly," for instance, which even most casual fans of Irish music have heard, is associated here with the vernal equinox, while "Téir Abhaile `Riú," a song dealing with an unwelcome match, is associated with Beltaine. I personally do not know whether these associations are traditional or Minogue's, but taken together the tunes make for a lovely song cycle. If using this music during ritual, you may want to program the CD player to skip over "A Midwinter Concerto"; it's a beautiful piece, but is more classical in style, and so doesn't quite fit with the rest.
One of my favorite kinds of music for meditation is shakuhachi. The shakuhachi is a Japanese bamboo flute, played in both performance and meditative settings. If you don't want to learn to play it yourself -- I understand it's somewhat difficult -- there are plenty of excellent recordings available. My personal favorite is Kohachiro Miyata's Shakuhachi -- The Japanese Flute (Elektra), which is what's in the CD player on most mornings. The breathy, wandering tone of this instrument is curiously suited to meditative practice, and the music recorded in a meditative setting is probably better for meditation than other things; it has a directionless quality which I ordinarily find irritating, but which is very good if you're engaged in an activity where lack of direction is an important feature.
Turning to pure entertainment, the first album from singer-songwriter Nina Storey that I heard was Shades, and it remains a personal favorite. Storey lives somewhere between the lands of pop, R&B and blues. If Shades has a little more synth to it than fans of some of these genres might like, Storey's incredible voice and heartfelt lyrics more than make up for it. "Let Us Walk" is as delightful an affirmation of humanity as you'll find anywhere, not once devolving into cheesiness or schmaltz -- a difficult trick for songs on this theme. "Coffee and Margaritas" explores the dividing line between compromise and control, and while "False Ideas" specifically discusses a relationship between women, Storey's theme of how the ideal can interfere with the reality is universal. This layering between the specific and the general is a major strength in Storey's songwriting; she tells you about herself and about you at the same time. She can also be very funny; the ironic tone of "Disease of Suggestion" is perfect tonic for anyone who's ever struggled with the religion of their upbringing.
Genevieve Williams is a Seattle freelance writer and the drummer for Murder of Crows. She can be reached at rimrun@drizzle.com with feedback, suggestions or recommendations. Local musicians are encouraged to submit material for review.