Of Note: CD Reviews

Shades of the '60s!

The muddy, distorted guitars; the low-in-the-mix, full stereo; and nearly mumbled vocals add a Farfisa organ, making Swim sound like a Rhino re-issue of almost any mid-to-late '60s psychedelic band. Dig out your old lava lamp, strobe light, back light, and posters; light some incense; grab a bottle of Patchouli oil; and let's groove, baby!

Early Dolphin is comprised of Clay S. Guccione on guitars and vocals, Michael B. Myers on bass, and Spencer T. Nikosey on drums. There's a lot of music coming out of this trio - the songs are well-packed with swelling guitar chords and rumbling bass lines.

This debut album is pretty consistent in maintaining this hippie era folk rock feel. I do hear modern influences here and there, just enough to keep it interesting. Listen closely to the rotary phased guitar tones toward the end of "Go Where You Want to Go" to hear what I mean. They use the altering speed of the rotary effect as a dynamic change within the solo section.

"Swim," the title song, is the only exception, being very folk and low-key - and at 2:12, it's the shortest song on the disc. The entire CD is only 22:40, split between eight songs - a little short for a "full" CD, in my opinion.

The CD packaging is the tri-fold style with hand-drawn cover art by Josh Cochran. It's actually pretty nice and goes well with the overall theme of the band and its music. While it doesn't really grab your attention, it doesn't scare you away either and is fairly neutral in that respect. More vivid colors might help if it's sitting on a shelf with 100 other CDs.

While nothing really stands out or blows me away, Swim is musically well executed and DOES work as a cool homage to that renaissance period in our musical history when "rock" music emerged from rock and roll, pop, folk, and blues. "Cycles," track two, is typical of the topics and arrangements from that era. A little college philosophy, mixed with whatever might be growing out back, went a long way during that rebellious time.

In this current era of short attention spans and shock music that beats you over the head with meaningless lyrics, fictitious words and noises, and simple, angry beats - it's refreshing to hear an album that you can put on and listen to all the way through and simply enjoy. In the end, it's a very different kind of record for this day and age - and quite listenable. I'll bet these guys are really great to see and hear live!

Once again, this review will be available on my MySpace blog at http://blog.myspace.com/abod, which allows you to respond to my reviews. All I ask is that you keep it real and avoid "colorful" remarks. Thank you for reading and supporting local music.

Happy listening!

It's hard to put words to a review of a CD by a guy what [sic] writes his own stuff, but Gregory Page can always be counted on in the stuff department. I've listened to 10 or 12 CDs that go back to a Street Fair audition cassette that my old friend Buddy Blue turned me on to around the time I first took over the booking, about 1994. There were good songs on that tape and on all subsequent CDs that I've heard since. Page's new CD is the best one yet.

One of the signs of a good song, and a quality collection of songs, is whether you remember the words and can hum the tune (or at least have it whirling around in your mind). That is certainly the case here. I find myself humming "The Ghost with Sad Eyes" and singing parts of of "Everybody's Happy" on a regular basis. Poetic tag lines like "daydreams at night" and "sleeping in dirt" and "flying kites in the middle of night" stick with me.

The overall image that runs through all the songs here is one of things passing and, in a nonthreatening way, it could be lives, loves, ideas, or even the Bush administration. Things pass, and Page reminds us that we don't have to dwell on it, we just go along for the ride; some nice memories will be picked up along the way.

This is also the nicest package I've seen from Page. Ray Suen's swinging violin and mandolin, and Martin Greaves' keyboards, fit right in. Other guest instrumentation from Shanna Nichols, Doug, Myer, A.J. Croce, and others fit in at the right places when needed.

Page's vocals just get better and better. With a contemporary salute to the crooners of the 1930s, the songs have an appeal that makes them as up to date as the eternal subjects he sings about. Broken hearts, eternal truths, various kinds of sorrow, and loads of optimism get you through it all. The whole gang coming on with newly written songs (except for Gus Kahn's old chestnut "I'll See You in My Dreams," which fits right in) sometimes sounds like they could be played on a wind-up phonograph.

Also included is a photo verse booklet with images that fit with bits of lyric into the songs presented to remind you that although things pass, they also endure. This is a CD that's not only nice entertainment, it also gives you something to think about. I have a feeling I'm going to keep this one close at hand and play it through every once in awhile. It's that kind of CD - full of things that alter and illuminate or minds.

One of these days someone in the Department of Musical Taste is going to decide that Page is the bee's knees and San Diego is going to lose another of our own. It's happened before. Meanwhile, grab this CD and go listen to him live. You'll never be sorry.

Simeon Flick is one of those rare wunderkinder who seems to harness musical energy from some other dimension. The good news is that his new CD, Reactive Soul, somehow captures lightning in a bottle so that the rest of us can enjoy.

Within the tapestry of Flick's work on this stunning record you'll find mind-bending lyrics (that may have you reaching for Mr. Webster's help), octave defying and soulful vocals, guitar wizardry, and an over-reaching compositional ingenuity that binds it all together.

First, it should be noted that Flick played ALL of the instruments and sang all of the vocal parts (the wonderful guest vocal by Cathryn Beeks is the one exception) on this recording. UmmmÉwow! There is cohesion and confidence permeating this music, which is simply the result of a masterful musician working tirelessly to perfect the expression. Flick really hits his musical stride on this disc, whether he's slinging his own brand of brainy pop rock ("Many Moons," "American Boy"); jazzy, blue-eyed soul (the bona-fide hit single "Money Don't Make the Man" and the sizzling "Your Love is Wrong"); or his more quirky/artsy fare ("Caveat," "Black Mare"). "The Acrobat" and "Grave Boy" offer glimpses into the amazing things that Flick can do with a nylon string guitar, especially on "The Acrobat" where the artist's world-class classical training and abilities will make you wonder if this is the same guy who was just tearing it up on the Telecaster. The electric guitar performances are flawless and inspired (personal favorite moments being the tremolo soaked solo on "Your Love Is Wrong" and the blazing rhythm parts on "Money Don't Make the Man"). The brilliantly executed lead and harmony vocals ooze passion and intensity, yet sound utterly effortless, which boggles the mind considering how ridiculously ambitious the parts are.

All of this takes place over a harmonic and compositional backdrop that manages to merge wild innovation with yummy pop hooks. The music delivers wicked, audacious surprises but doesn't neglect to provide sonic comfort food. For example, "Money Don't Make the Man" will have you instantly nodding your head as the ear candy is dished out, but the bridge serves up a really cool, somewhat dissonant, odd time signature cacophony that lasts just long enough to bring something fresh without distracting from the heart of the song. "Black Mare" offers the most intriguing blending of Flick's alternative, pop, rock, and folk compositional sensibilities with Dylan-esque wordplay, infectious guitar hooks, and a deliciously dark, foreboding harmonic framework.

Now, let's talk brain twisting lyrics. On "Money Don't Make the Man," a casual listen might give the false impression that the artist is presenting a straight ahead, feel-good, anti-materialistic sermon, but listen more closely and you'll hear a less idealistic side of the conversation ("Écan we pretend that money don't make the man?"). "Choice" also sidesteps convention by twisting what begins to sound like a standard rock and roll anthem about our personal power to direct our lives into a much deeper exploration of the subject of free will.

I wish I could have made this review twice as long to cover more of the musical and lyrical treasures to be found on this CD, but alas, there are space limits I must adhere to. If you've been longing for something to blow the cobwebs of stale musical convention out of your airspace, this is the record you've been waiting for.

Like a slow flowing river this is a body of work that rolls just as gently. Heavy on introspection, the lyrics are delivered in a way that leaves the listener feeling privy to the private ponderings of Mr. Mudd and that this whole thing has been a heartfelt admission in complete confidence.

While there is nothing earthshaking in terms of irreverence, it stands boldly in terms of its concern for beauty and moodiness. It's a very moody document. It's more of an acoustic record than it is a folk record. With a few ethereal moves, such as hauntingly gorgeous vocalizations from Jane Lui and keyboards and arrangements ˆ la producer Aaron Bowen, this work also finds itself midstep in its way outside some of the obvious expectations for this genre, all while remaining modest and whispery in its tone. One has to lean into this record much in the same way you do when your lover Ð or a child who adores you Ð wants to tell you a secret.

The production is pristine, lending the feeling that we Ð the listening audience Ð are present in a private special place. Quietness is considered and an important element of the art rendered here.

I'd also like to say that the artwork itself is tremendous, thanks to Jon Ascher, as it is the perfect "face" to represent the mind, soul, and body of this Tim Mudd CD.

Oftentimes I might call out a tune or two, but I don't thank that's an appropriate way of describing this music. It's better to speak in terms of its listening experience Ð the attitude of it being more like a soundtrack than a collection of catchy hooks and musical pyrotechnics. The lyrics meander through arpeggios and the guitars always have the feeling of flowing water. No crazy, ego-validating solos; not one "yeah, yeah, yeah."

I also find Mr. Mudd's work to be emblematic of the San Diego acoustic scene and representative of the style we've all managed to forge as a body of musicians. Like a slow muddy river, here's Tim rolling his way right through it.

I'm still leaning in, curiously.