2009.07.31
CD reviews we can't fit in Saturday's paper
THE GOLDEN SILVERS
“True Romance”
(XL)
A keys/bass/drums trio from North London, the Golden Silvers make wistful, swooning pop marked by barbershop harmonies and singer/songwriter Gwilym Gold’s fixation on magic and myth. Despite the lack of guitar, these songs alternately recall early Blur and Super Furry Animals, Bowie at his most streamlined, and a less smarmy Pulp.
This full-length debut isn’t perfect: The middle few tracks are dull compared with the album’s strong start and finish, though “Shakes” does have its moments. The high point and onetime U.K. single “Arrows of Eros” is buried in penultimate position, its squiggly faux-disco lit up with a horn section.
Largely enjoyable, “True Romance” closes with “Fade To Black,” a sweet entry featuring just Gold’s rubbery voice and gentle piano.
— Doug Wallen, The Philadelphia Inquirer
RUTHIE AND THE WRANGLERS
“Americana Express” (Azalea City)
It’s fitting that Ruthie and the Wranglers tackle the rockabilly chestnut “I Got a Rocket in My Pocket.” Singer Ruthie Logsdon is a cousin of the song’s originator, Jimmie Logsdon, but, more important, the rave-up is the kind of rootsy, high-spirited crowd-pleaser in which the Wranglers have long specialized.
That same energy infuses much of “Americana Express,” beginning with the twang-fueled “In the Tank,” a collaboration by the band’s three singer-lyricists — Logsdon, bassist Greg Hardin and keyboardist Bill Starks — and continuing through songs that touch on honky-tonk, hillbilly swing, boogie-woogie and surf.
Logsdon also pays tribute to prime influence Loretta Lynn with a feisty, swamp-tinged take on “You Wanna Give Me a Lift.” This “Express,” however, is just as impressive when it slows down: Revealing another dimension to the D.C.-area band are numbers such as Logsdon’s reflective “If I Could Turn Back Time,” Hardin’s wrenching “Not to Love You,” and his bluegrass-flavored “The Last Word in Love.”
— Nick Cristiano, The Philadelphia Inquirer
SEAN JONES
“The Search Within” (Mack Avenue)
Trumpeter Sean Jones, who’s all of 31, often sounds like a committed hard bopper. Raised in Warren, Ohio, Jones is now a jazz professor at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, and he can play as if in a time bubble, attacking his originals with laserlike precision.
But his work with a sextet and some guests, including Gregoire Maret on harmonica, is also surprisingly cool and clinical. It fills the space but rarely draws a wow.
Pianist Orrin Evans, Philly’s own, offers some needed outside-the-box counterpart to Jones’ technical juggernaut. Still, the prevailing vibe here is very smooth and occasionally overproduced. The set is effective, but an emotional response is more elusive.
That’s odd, because a lot of pieces are in place for a good session. Frank Foster, the legendary Count Basie sideman, wrote one tune, “Sean Jones Comes Down,” and it finds the leader spreading verve and fire. Jones also closes the CD with a very handsome ballad take of the title track.
—Karl Stark, The Philadelphia Inquirer
ERIC VLOEIMANS’ FUGIMUNDI
“Live at Yoshi’s” (Challenge Records)
Trumpeter Eric Vloeimans is a top jazz player from the Netherlands. And his set captured here live at Oakland’s great Yoshi’s jazz club ought to make him better known here.
His unusual trio of pianist Harmen Fraanje and guitarist Anton Goudsmit makes for an unconventional, drum-free setup. The trio starts with a Vloeimans original, a tasteful ditty called “Corleone” that may sound “Godfather”-ish to some American ears but is quite classical.
The uncluttered session is full of intimate moments and spontaneous interplay. Vloeimans’ trumpet sounds light as a flute on his “Harry Bo,” which slips in and out of a sultry melancholy, while “Fatima” is dark and graceful. The lone standard, “Over the Rainbow,” is unrolled reverently, if a bit slowly. The live audience loves it, though.
“Antwan” is a knockout closer; Goudsmit’s wavy guitar segues into an old- time blues, with some wildly electrified guitar lines to match. The Dutch boys score.
— K.S.





