2009.05.30
CD reviews we couldn't fit in the paper
ASHLEY CLEVELAND
"God Don't Never Change" (Koch)
She has won the Grammy for best rock gospel album three times, but
Ashley Cleveland has never delved into black gospel as fully as she does
on God Don't Never Change.
With her husband, the noted guitarist Kenny Greenberg, again acting as
producer, the Nashville-based Cleveland's latest album brings new
vitality to vintage material. The electric but bracingly stripped-down
arrangements occasionally do rock, but mostly Cleveland and her cohorts
bring out the blues in this gospel. It's a natural fit for Cleveland and
her strong, smoky alto - you could picture her as a modern blues diva or
blues-rocker (check out her knockout version of "Gimme Shelter" on
YouTube), if she weren't busy resurrecting songs by Blind Willie Johnson
and Mahalia Jackson. And for all the new edge brought to these songs,
they still pack the same spiritual uplift.
- Nick Cristiano,The Philadelphia Inquirer
PHOENIX
"Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix" (Glassnote)
For Phoenix, it's all a question of balance. Too much synth-pop would
get them lumped in with the new new wave revival. Too much spiky, Modest
Mousey indie rock would alienate their dance-loving fans. Too many
ambitious tracks might overwhelm their poppier instincts. Too many pop
numbers would leave them feeling disposable.
The French quartet has tried mixing all these elements before, to
varying degrees of success. But on their fourth album, "Wolfgang Amadeus
Phoenix", they get the recipe just right.
Given singer Thomas Mars' distinctive vocals - part Isaac Brock yelp,
part Julian Casablancas detachment - Phoenix will always sound a little
left of center, a fact the band seems to revel in challenging. They
surround his vocals with lush synth-pop and galloping beats on
"Girlfriend." They strip away the layers of "Rome" to reveal an
infectious melody roughed up by Mars' off-kilter delivery, and they
build a mighty rock groove for Mars to bounce around in "Lisztomania."
What works best, though, is when the band stretches enough to let its
ambitions show - as they do on the slinky "Fences," which comes on like
"Low Life"-era New Order with its stacks of synths and disco groove, and
the epic "Love Like a Sunset," which opens as a fragile electro-pop
confection and builds into a massive Europop climax before retreating
into Sigur Ros-like simplicity again.
With "Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix," Phoenix surpasses all the promise of
its previous work to establish itself as one of the year's next breakout
stars.
- Glenn Gamboa, Newsday
