She burst onto the scene in the late 70s with a beret and a new, Beat-inspired jazzy take on the singer/songwriter idiom. In the years hence, Rickie Lee Jones has ranged from brilliant to misguided. She’s been unable to either entrench herself in stardom or, like Joni Mitchell, carve out a niche as an influential deity. Those reservations aside, Rhino has done a terrific job of compiling a heady smorgasbord of her work on three CDs: the first two chronicle her studio songs (1979-2003) and the third is an odds-and-sods disc of one-offs (including an obscure British 12-inch with The Blue Nile), live stuff and demos (among them “Young Blood,” “Easy Money” and “Rodeo Girls”). Jones’ best work came on her first two LPs (Rickie Lee Jones and Pirates), where she deftly combined street poetry, jazz-infused vocal phrasing (which would later sometimes lapse into over-the-top affectation) and grabby, girl-group pop. “Chuck E’s in Love,” her monster breakout hit, still holds a timeless appeal. “Company” is an aching torch ballad, “Coolsville” a simmering gem. But the hits dried up, and Jones turned to more arty sounds and ambitious song forms, some of which worked (“Flying Cowboys,” “Magazine”), some of which didn’t (“Altar Boy,” “Scary Chinese Move”). Jones blazed trails that opened new avenues for younger women musicians. Duchess puts this somewhat underappreciated artist’s accomplishments into perspective.
Track to burn: “Company”
—Eric Snider
Cuban musician Ferrer (singer/guitarist/tres player/composer) takes a gentle, non-traditional approach on Rústico. The lyrics offer reflection and social commentary, maybe not against The Revolution, but on the scarcity of everyday things and the ensuing harsh life in contemporary Cuba. These are guaracha-style songs, whose lyrics usually center on the everyday lives and struggles of the common people. Ferrer doesn’t have a band, but rather what he calls a bunga, a word used in rural Cuba for a small group of improvisational musicians. The caressing acoustic guitar, the percussion (a thumb piano) and the female vocals (often provided by his daughter) make for a sultry trip through the Cuban countryside; albeit with a distinct softer take on classic Cuban son than, say, the dance staple salsa.
Track to burn: “Fundamento”
—Samir Shukla
“La Forêt” is French for “The Forest,” and a fair enough way to describe Xiu Xiu. Aurally, the music is almost preternaturally lush with its glockenspiels, woodwinds and odd percussion. It will lull you, Little Red Riding Hood-like, to the point where you forget about those wolves lurking about. And the wolf in this forest? Vocalist Jamie Stewart. He’s perhaps the most unflinching, dreadfully honest songwriter at work today — for an example, check out “Support Our Troops Oh” from the group’s previous album, Fabulous Muscles; it makes Conor Oberst’s “When The President Talks To God” seem limpid in comparison. Stewart’s lyricism, especially on slow burners like “Rose of Sharon (Grey Ghost),” are almost as costive as they are cathartic. La Forêt is decidedly uneasy listening, but for those with the stomach, it offers rewards rarely found in the record aisle.
Track to burn: “Muppet Face”
—Timothy C. Davis
It’s always been a balancing act with Brooklyn-born band Longwave. A textural pop group with a strong dream-pop influence, Longwave has always managed to anchor its spacey sound with enough serrated guitar churn to prevent it from drifting into navel-gazing piffle like Coldplay. This album leans heavier on Longwave’s Britpop influences than its RCA debut, The Strangest Things, did. The result is a moodier, more atmospheric album which, while dovetailing well with the quintet’s influences, at times loses too much of the band’s chaotic roar. On the plus side, the sound highlights the band’s pop acumen on the bounding “Tell Me I’m Wrong,” whose wash of low-level electronic thrum and chiming guitar recalls 80s band the Psychedelic Furs.
Track to burn: “Tell Me I’m Wrong”
—Chris Parker
This article appears in Jul 27 – Aug 2, 2005.
