By Melissa Fossum
By Lauren Wise
By New Times
By Amanda Savage
By Jason P. Woodbury
By Troy Farah
By New Times
David Kimbrough Jr. , Shell Shocked (Lucky 13/BC Records); The Burnside Exploration, The Record (Lucky 13/BC Records): While Fat Possum Records has all but abandoned the "Not Your Same Old Blues Crap" of people like Junior Kimbrough and R.L. Burnside, both the Kimbrough and Burnside families have produced new generations of first-rate players. David Kimbrough Jr. (son of Junior) and The Burnside Exploration (featuring a son and a grandson of R.L.) both released albums very much worthy of the droning, whiskey-delic Mississippi Hill Country boogie/blues tradition of their forefathers. The Burnside Exploration album is a raucous and primal rotgut Saturday-night onslaught of guitar distortion and bashed drums with occasional tinges of Dirty South hip-hop. Kimbrough's Shell Shocked rocks just as hard in spots, but is also downright harrowing in others, as on "Wild Turkey" and "I Don't Do the Things I Used To." What's more, Kimbrough's keening tenor is the finest singing voice this subgenre has ever had.
The Kashmere Stage Band, Texas Thunder Soul 1968-74 (Now-Again Records): In the mid-1970s, faced with a flurry of band defections, James Brown made the discovery that immortal funk music did not require elite musicianship, so long as the musicians were directed well and disciplined. The results of Brown's "Eureka" moment eventually provided him with one of his most fertile periods. Houston high school band teacher Conrad Johnson, director of the Kashmere Stage Band, came to the same conclusion, with results that are no less funky. The luxuriant big-band jazz-funk on this double-CD makes it nigh impossible to believe that this is the work of students from one inner-city high school, or even from all the high schools in America put together.
King Curtis, Live at Fillmore West (Koch Records): On the other hand, elite musicians did create immortal funk, as evidenced on this King Curtis live set. Curtis, a sax player who was murdered at 41 a few months after this recording, had that squalling, harsh tone common to the black Texans of his era that dates back to guys like Illinois Jacquet, Arnett Cobb, and "Cleanhead" Vinson. Here, Curtis unleashes it on an array of hits from all over the pop music spectrum of 1971, so alongside expected songs like "Memphis Soul Stew," you also get funkified renditions of country and folk fare like "Ode to Billie Joe" and "Mr. Bojangles," and classic rock staples like "A Whiter Shade of Pale," and even Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love." And, oh yeah we mentioned that Curtis had some musicians . . . how about the Memphis Horns, Billy Preston on the organ, and guitarist Cornell Dupree?
James Hunter, People Gonna Talk (Rounder Records): It was the roots music story of the past year: James Hunter stepped out of the shadows of Van Morrison, for whom he had served as lead guitarist for the past few years, and emerged front and center as the leader of his own band. On People Gonna Talk, the suave Englishman wraps his honeyed, Sam Cooke-ish tenor equally around early ska and rocksteady, the proto-funk of James Brown's early career, and suave, 1963-style big-city blues, all framed by tight, spry horns and occasional pizzicato strings. The complete package is as smooth and thrilling as a fast, moonlit ride in a vintage T-Bird convertible on an open stretch of coastal highway.
Various Artists, Roots of Rumba (Crammed Discs): This is an endlessly compelling exploration of 1950s-vintage sides from the former Belgian Congo, where the Cuban rumba was originally invented and later transformed. When Cuban recordings reached Kinshasa (then known as Leopoldville), the Congolese instantly recognized them as the work of their kinsfolk, those who were taken in chains to the sugar fields. In the Congo, local musicians replaced Cuban piano parts with guitars, and Spanish lyrics with others in Lingala, and their Afro-rumba would go on to sweep the continent in the late '50s and early '60s. Many of those tunes are here, and they come with a beautifully photographed package with copious, informed liner notes.
DJ Spooky, DJ Spooky Presents In Fine Style: 50,000 Volts of Trojan Records (Trojan): Even if you consider yourself up to speed on the Trojan catalogue, you should still pick up this two-CD set. While DJ Spooky is characteristically pedantic in the liner notes, there is no doubt he did a fine job here harvesting obscurities like Derrick Morgan's weirdly incredible "The Great Musical Battle" and Peter Tosh's judicial proceedings in "Here Comes the Judge," placing them alongside ganja-baked covers of hits like The Beatles' "Come Together" and Peggy Lee's "Fever," along with classic Jamaican hits like "007 Shanty Town" and "Rudy a Message to You." It also touches on every era of Jamaican music, from ska to rocksteady right up to the first shimmerings of dub, making this a perfect gift for neophytes.