Genre grab bag

Wheeler, RIPO, Saturnalia, Kilgore and more

by Michael Caito

Yeah, well, happy birthday to us. Thanks for reading, more thanks for feeding back, and most thanks for cutting this scrivener as much slack as he cuts others. Onward . . . .

Rhode Island Philharmonic:Live at Vets Auditorium 10/17

Geez, all that cake for a new acoustic shell and it's still beige?

Sonic youth and seniors could tell the difference between old and new shell. It certainly lent more thwack to the percussion and horn sections, but during the season-opening Beethoven Fidelio overture the strings went bye-bye-buried and veering work's cohesiveness suffered accordingly. Violin soloist Howard Zhang was long on tech specs, especially during the grab bag of fiddle tricks which the Fantaisie on Themes of Bizet -- borrowing from the fat-people's Carmen which recently graced Providence -- mandated. Everyone carps about young virtuosi lacking color and emotional depth, but Howie baby was down. The strings, which we could by then hear again, responded in kind and the Sarasate occasionally took off. Zhang's second offering wasn't as inspired, but it was still easy to hear why Saint-Saëns (and numerous composers of the Romantic era) wrote works specifically for Sarasate, the Spanish violinist who received support from talent scout Queen Isabella. Evidently French composer Saint-Saëns was himself a musical wunderkind, but Zhang's take seemed more true to Saint-Saëns' other life-long love -- the study of butterflies. The piece offered a flitting sensation, in stark and relatively weak contrast to the almost ridiculously demanding tour-de-force of Sarasate. But, as maestro Larry Rachleff maintained, we'll probably be hearing more from 14-year-old Zhang.

The Debussy after intermission was the night's high point. While it's far too early to pass acoustic judgement on the new shell, the Afternoon of a Faun-- loosely based on actions in a French Symbolist poem by Debussy's compatriot Mallarmé --sounded truly spectacular in its clarity and vibrance. The action of the poem involves a doe waking up one summer day, scooting around chasing little green people, eating grapes, then falling back asleep. The orchestra hewed to Debussy's mood of innocence and fancy, and the mingling of Impressionism and Symbolism (not to mention poetry and music) was delivered with an assured lilt that never became soggy nostalgia. Like watching a baby mull over brightly colored blocks in the land of the Fisher(-Price) King, it was really great. The finale, Stravinsky's famous Firebird Suite, always make me wish Iwas seeing the ballet, and seemed too garish without its mission-critical dancers. The shell is nice, but it just about killed the person in front of me. Oh well.

Jonathan LaMaster's Saturnalia (Sublingual Records 24-song CD); Boston Underbelly: Music From the City of Revolution (Sublingual 21-song Compilation)

Knotty yet ultimately satisfying adventures from Beantown's Sublingual label, with Saturnalia (at AS220 this week with Amoebic Ensemble) flexing muscles in two improvisational studio sessions comprising the former, and joining Boston notables Mile Wide, Neumann, Neptune and more on the comp. In Saturnalia you'll hear indulgent free-for-alls with violin, cello, bass, drums, theremin, guitar and didjeridoo, but tramping around diligently in their sonic jungle you'll happen across numerous sightings of rarified hybrids -- species of jazz, folk and avant-rock. It's not surprising given LaMaster's affiliation with jazz-via-New Delhi group Natraj, this album's cameo list (Roger and Bill T. Miller, Elliot Sharp) and the kinda-perfunctory two-minute noize blast from Thurston Moore which closes the compilation. Saturnalia's lineup (like gig-mates the Amoebics) is dynamic; for instance, they played a college radio gig last week as a string trio, and onstage ranks have been known to swell to 10. They're less musically splayed on the compilation, which also features sharp tracks from Mile Wide on the hilarious "Emerson's Lake" ELP semi-sendup and "Huerfano," and the following eight-minute dose of semi-crazed compositional skullduggery, Sigmoid Flexure's "Moulty's Hand."

ECW: Extreme Music (CMC International 12-song compilation CD)

I live downstairs from two guys whom Ilove and fear like brothers, but who are also Dallas Cowboys fans, and these days they obviously have a lotta chest-beating downtime on their hands. They (Smokin' Jimmy T and The Cobra), like 35 million Americans each week, watch and participate actively in professional wrestling. They dismiss the ECW (Extreme Championship Wrestling) organization because evidently in the ECW participants actually hurt each other. With me so far? Hope not. Anyway, this compilation puts the lie to the previous review's contention that Boston is the home of Revolution. It's actually either Foxboro, where the footie team dwells, or Providence, where Kilgore proudly hold the banner for Revolution Records aloft. Kilgore contribute here with a snarling cover of Pantera's "Walk," one of numerous and curious covers sonically administering the People's Elbow from the ECWto the WCW and the other big wrestling federation which has somehow slipped my mind.

Several cuts are worthy. Metallica's "Enter Sandman" and "Phantom Lord" are decently revisited by Motorhead and Anthrax; Bruce Dickinson's take on the Scorpions' "The Zoo" is OK, but not as fun as saying "Klaus Meine."Muscadine's spin on AC/DC's "Big Balls" is fairly impossible to screw up, and Megadeth's "Trust" is tasty. Monster Magnet apply their puerile penile vigor to the exalted "Kick Out the Jams" and sour the whole experience a little, but other than that, metal enthusiasts will have fun with this.

Cheryl Wheeler

Cheryl Wheeler: What Do I Care I Don't Have Any Kids Construction Company, Inc. (Philo 68-minute live performance video)

From her cow-patterned papal vestment images to the beat-up guitars of her elderly Mrs. Pinocci, Philo hits a homer by capturing on video both the scythe-like humor and one-stray-tear sadness found at all performances by Cheryl Wheeler. Her star's been rising now for several years, courtesy of Number One-charting songwriting credits and her wellspring of decency, a seemingly bottomless source of insight and everyday vision that should make Jerry Seinfeld hang it up forever. Very few folk singers can, when it comes to brass tacks, make you laugh and cry in consecutive songs. Wheeler can and does, taking you along on this penetrating, hour-plus carousel of wisdom, heartache, guffaws and grief. Her voice sounds incredible on a big screen tube, so if you've been itching to see the real impact of your snazzy new home theater, this is where to start.

STARS & BARS. Two outfits that know the nuts 'n' bolts of groove play the Phoenix's 20th anniversary bash at Bootleggers tonight (10/22). Bellevue Cadillac have wowed with their blend of jazz, swing, R&B and soul. Grüvis Malt kick it with blue-eyed melody and beat-based hip-hop built around jazzy progressions. Live, these bands are always on point, so tonight funk's all around you . . . Arab on Radar hit the Century Lounge with Colossamite on the 29th. While AOR are performing new material at the moment without co-founding bassist Andrea Fessette (on hiatus this winter), they've just completed mixdown for their upcoming Tough Day At the Orifice (Sonic Bubblegum) which included the bassist, and will be entering the studio this winter for another full-length on ever-estimable Load Records (who are a few weeks away from their label sampler/compilation release). Meanwhile, Colossamite perform tracks from their excellent brand new sizzler Economy of Motion (Skin Graft), which, like the best work of the Arabs, can be as profound when occasionally quiet as it is during their more prevalent relevant rants.

Purple Ivy Shadows continue their successful October residency at the Safari with Providence's String Builder and Year of the . . . along with New Yorkers Caroline Shirley; word has it that next month's featured residency involves Mr. Greenlee from pleasurehorse. Of course you remembered the imminent Kristin Hersh show at AS220; tix were still available at presstime. We B outta space but fret not . . . new paper every week.