Best Eton

Sally Nyolo, Jungle Dogs, George Gee and more

by Michael Caito

Sally Nyolo

Talk about something completely different. A gorgeous album by Cameroon native and Zap Mama alumna Sally Soleinie Nyolo, who stands poised to give the more-ballyhooed "Madonna of Mali" Oumou Sangare a run for her money in the ever-simmering Afro-pop landscape. As overwhelming as Sangare can be, Nyolo's history is perhaps . . . weirder. She left Cameroon for France at age 13, eventually singing in punk(!) and reggae bands in Parisian nightclubs, and studying law. Later, she was approached by Zap Mama and performed for a while in that supergroup before establishing herself as solo artist and in-demand session singer.

After the opening a cappella "Tribu" gently calls the brothers and sisters of her tribe to "enter the dance," "Shana" is an uplifting, spritely celebration of birth. Following is the album's centerpiece, "Awono," a heartbreaker involving two lovers who decide to hang out one night instead of going out partying. Her friends try to drag her out and she resists. His friends come along and try the same, and out he goes, only to have "an accident." Recorded in Paris, the lyrics are reprinted, some verbatim, in French and English, but implicit emotion transcends language, as does the tone of admonition with which Nyolo greets a long-lost friend in the following "Ovouni." In several instances you wish her lyrics were translated in their entirety from the original Eton, but given Nyolo's expressiveness and formidable, if occasional sidemen (bass, drums and guitar accompany her percussion/ vocal about half the time), the listener doesn't need all the words to appreciate her range and depth. Sangare is very good, maybe great, but Nyolo has that unfeigned ability to make the listener feel like a confidant, regardless of the continent either calls home. A rare gift.

She's playing outside, exposed to the elements, but put it it this way -- if there's anyone who can sing away rain, it is Nyolo.

Sally Nyolo performs at Waterplace Park on Friday at 7 p.m.

George Gee & His Make-Believe Ballroom Orchestra:Swingin' Live! (Swing 46 12-song CD)

Nothing make-believe about a 17-piece band with decades of swing experience. Nor, for that matter, is there quibbling about a bandleader who shouts for Basie while keeping in mind that it's been the jazz players, past and present, who have kept fueling swing's distinctive flame. It's a flame passed by Dizz and Hamp, Joe Williams, Milt Jackson and other luminaries who used to pack 'em -- tight and riled but oh-so-smooth -- into Harlem's storied Savoy Ballroom.

These days you're more than likely to hear too-harried tempos and drum levels jacked through the roof. It's an arriviste botch, and those in the know cringe at the toll exacted in this revival. Gee and his Orchestra commit no such grievous errors, making this live record an old-school romp and, just maybe, a new-school primer. They're a hit at the Swing 46 Jazz and Supper Club in New York City which, like the Knitting Factory, runs their own label. You know there's a high level of discernment going on on any given evening. Wear sensible wing-tips (is there any other kind?). Khaki discouraged.

George Gee &the Make Believe Ballroom Orchestras hit Lupo's on Saturday at 7.

The Shods: Bamboozled, Jilted, Hornswaggled &Hoodwinked (Poorhouse Records 10-song CD)

Elemental power-punk/ power-pop from the Merrimac Valley, a tip o' the lid is due the Buzzcocks on this Chris Cugini (Delta Clutch)-engineered disc. Opening with the promising rollickry of "I Know a Place," and "Lucky," two riff-heavy sing-alongs, Bamboozled swerves into the Attractions-esque "Going Back Home" and "No Good/No Fun." Being a sucka for Pete Shelley and Elvis Costello might make me a retro-pop geek (as opposed to a plain geek). I'll risk it. This sounds grand, and though the melodies are sometime torp'ed by overuse ("You've Got It All" is one big mungo cliché), you get the feeling that a bill with the Shods and, say, the Figgs would again prove that the power of crafty pop, if simplistic, is not evanescent.

Various Artists:Get Your Ass In the Water and Swim Like Me! (15-performance Rounder CD)

Subtitled "Narrative Poetry from the Black Oral Tradition," this collection of toasts (all of which were recorded in 1964 or 1966, except "Signifying Monkey (II)" from 1970) is a ribald, shocking riot. A poet's theatrical prowess, through inflection and rhythm, is mandatory while keeping audience interest in a longish reading, and all of these readings and retellings benefit from drama and understatement. In their original milieu it was common for audience members to offer impromptu re-tellings, changing certain plot twists which he (this is an exclusively male club) felt could best the performer's version. Pass the mic, circa '66? This kept the folk poetry paradigm vibrant, though the topics -- brutally course tales of adultery and violence -- are potentially explosive in our warped, hyper-sensitive, lawyer-run age. If not the direct forebear of gangsta, these toasts --though nasty and racially stereotypical -- do "signify," as does gangsta, the importance of self-affirmation, right by might and wrong by trippin', however much the innate elements of parody stretch believability and steamroll any talk of gender equity. But then again, in 1998 you have Chef (Isaac Hayes) croonin' about his salty chocolate balls, and you have to shrug it off. The title was taken from a book by Bruce Jackson (Harvard University Press, Cambridge, 1974), who both recorded and edited this CD, and comes from advice offered in the hilarious "Titanic," read by Tom Ellis in March of 1966. Its narrator, resilient coal-room worker Shine, survives the wreck.

Alexi Lalas:Ginger (CMC 10-song CD)

Hey, no footie in the studio! Slick, antiseptically-produced connect-the-dot alterna-rock, though that certainly hasn't stopped similar-sounding one-hit records from commandeering Modern Rock charts. If this record was a side in the Premiereship, relegation would be inevitable. I guess this will always happen when one can only write songs with your feet? Red card.

OLD SCHOOL COOL. In ska, folks are always referring to the various flavors as Waves (are we up to the Third or Fourth?), but the Jungle Dogs, in their day, always ran rampant with conventional ska wisdom via their speed, dexterity, funk and rock 'n' roll, and throughout their long run players' ability in these veins was rarely an issue. I'll still spin their '93 EPBeautiful Things (Eating Bugs) when in need of an energy boost, but the adrenaline this night promises may be enough to even make all them road-tripping city slickers want to hoof it home from the Ocean Mist on Friday. In the Green Room, the Poor Kids' debut the same night, poverty being an issue only in their ability to hire a bassist, not in originality. Original bassist Finn Kelly had to back out because at under three feet tall he had trouble twirling the upright properly. It was a gas hearing Dennis Kelly's slashing riffs goose the Amazing Crowns cover of Boss Fuel's "The Ride" at India Point last week, but Kelly's punkabilly heart has always contained a softer spot for country yarns, and he isn't new to blues either. So the only shocker of this intriguing set by the Pull-Tabs (who include Indigo Jazz Ensemble bassist Theo Regan) may be if he leaves his purty lap-steel at home.