Forgotten Gems #1: Cell-Scape by Melt-Banana (2003)

Cell-Scape, Melt-Banana

Here on Forgotten Gems, we’re starting out with a strange one. Japanese noise-rock band Melt-Banana is truly the musical incarnation of Douglas Adams’ Pan-Galactic Gargle-Blaster, and will, by their very nature, likely never achieve any conventional kind of popularity or success. Since the day they formed in 1992, they have set out to make music that will disorient, bewilder, and possibly even terrify the listener with simply ludicrous volumes, harsh and screeching guitar/electronic effects, and a vocal style delivered by frontwoman Yasuko Onuki that I can only describe as a hyperactive cartoon character on at least three different kinds of stimulants. Their 2003 album Cell-Scape, while admittedly “tamer” (if that’s a word that can even be applied to this band) than their frankly horrifying 90’s output, it is still an entire sonic universe away from what the average listener would consider easy-listening, and for that, I just love it.

“Phantasmagoria” starts off the album with a relatively calm and slow ambient intro, but do not let them fool you. Immediately the listener is pummeled in the face by the opening roar of “Shield Your Eyes, a Beast in the Well of Your Hand.” I believe the first couple seconds of this song is a good gauge of whether or not you’ll enjoy the ensuing 30 minutes of barely controlled chaos. If you hate it and it makes your ears bleed, maybe don’t proceed. If you love it and it makes your ears bleed, then boy are you in for a treat. I would be remiss not to bring up frankly how ridiculously awesome Ichirou Agata’s guitar-work is, on this album especially. He gets otherworldly sounds out of his guitar that that defy verbal explanation and practically require hearing firsthand. Seriously, he’s one of my all-time favorite guitarists for a very good reason. The song builds with a hypnotic bassline, hard and robotic drum machine loop, and Agata’s incredible noise-glissandos.

And then the vocals kick in.

Yasuko Onuki’s vocals are the stuff of myth. It is absolutely a “love-it or hate-it” style that takes some getting used to, and are completely different from almost every other vocalist in all of music. I’ve already described her vocals as sounding like a cartoon character on stimulants, but if you haven’t heard it before, you really don’t know what you’re getting into. But I believe that it is her voice that transforms Melt-Banana from a pretty-good but not-so-memorable noise band into the playful, exhilarating and mind-destroying entity we all know and love them as. Her energetic style permeates through the bizarre whirlwinds of songs that are “Chain-Shot to Have Some Fun” and my personal favorite “A Dreamer Who is Too Weak to Face Up.” Every explosion of guitar and drums is accentuated by Onuki’s weirdly cheery-sounding yelps and squawks. Melt-Banana wouldn’t be half of the amazingness that it is without Yasuko Onuki at the helm, and every single song she takes part in is simply a joy to listen to.

melt banana, wwwdotorlandoweeklydotcom

Left: Yasuko Onuki. Right: Ichirou Agata. Image source:

This whole album in general is just that: a pure joy. Sure, it’s unyielding, ridiculously loud and harsh, and almost completely inacessible to any mainstream audience. But if you can get used to the noise elements and the unorthodox approach to vocals, you’ll find that this album is a thrill ride unlike most you’ll ever be able to find. And hey, after 30 minutes of exhaustion, they were even kind enough to give the listener a nice instrumental ambient outro to cool back down to. This album is absolutely not for everyone, but if you can acquire that taste, you’ll uncover an experience that you won’t forget. Now get this album the love and attention that it deserves.

Favorite Tracks: “A Dreamer Who is Too Weak to Face Up,” “If it is the Deep Sea, I Can See You There,” “Chain-Shot to Have Some Fun,” “Shield Your Eyes, a Beast in the Well of Your Hand”

We’re Back! (but DIFFERENT)

Time sure flies when you have a serious procrastination problem and your most recent blog post was in August of last year. Yeah, sorry about that.

I’ve been thinking about the album reviews, and the whole “review the entire 1001 book” idea, and I’ve come to a realization. Personally, the idea of being stuck with reviewing the albums in a certain book for what would end up being well over 20 years isn’t exactly the most appealing prospect in the world. So I’ve made the decision to simply scrap the 1001 series entirely and review music that I’m personally passionate about.

I will have several ongoing series of album reviews, which I will dub “Forgotten Gems,” “All-Time Greats,” and “New Stuff” for now. The first will be musical masterpieces that have been tragically forgotten by the public at large. The second will, fairly obviously, be famous records that deserve to be remembered as generation-defining classics. Finally, “New Stuff” will simply be reviews of fresh and recently released albums.

I’ll still keep the old reviews up for everyone to read as they please, but I think that this new direction will be much more enjoyable not only for myself, but for my readers. Thanks for sticking with me, and here’s hoping this goes well!.

Album Review #40: Live at the Apollo by James Brown (1963)

Live at the Apollo, James Brown

I’m back, everyone! Terribly sorry about the unannounced hiatus. I fully intend on making my posts much more frequent than they have been.

James Brown was known as “the hardest working man in show buisness.” After all, he played a gig almost every single night, (and sometimes even multiple times in a single day,) and the concept of a “break” was pretty much completely alien to him. So for a single 30-minute concert, performed at the Apollo Theater in 1962, to consistently rise above all other sets of the man’s entire career and frequently place on lists of “greatest live albums ever”, it has to be something truly special. Well, worry not, because this album more than lives up to the endless hype. You know you’ve got a hell of an album on your hands when the only complaint you can think of regarding it is that it’s just too short. At just over 32 minutes, it almost always leaves the listener unsatisfied and wanting more. But hey, an album sure can do worse when its only drawback is that there just isn’t enough of it.

Side A

The album starts with a passionate intro from Fats Gonder. He lists off all the songs on the setlist, each one punctuated by a burst of brass that increases in pitch each successive time, creating an awesome sense of buildup and anticipation. After his opening, the band launches into a cool yet crazy-energetic instrumental, with the guitar alternating with the brass section with a great call-and-response style. After a minute of this, the man himself, James Brown, steps up to the microphone and screams out the opening lines to the first song, “I’ll Go Crazy,” with an astonishing raw power only he could pull off. The guitar strums out the opening chords, before the song finally kicks off with hypnotic arpeggios and excellent singing from both Brown and his underrated backup singers. This is probably the single catchiest song on the record, with flawless hooks, melodies, and instrumentals that all work together perfectly to create what is possibly the perfect R&B song. They then seamlessly transition into the next track, “Try Me,” which is much more subdued and calm, but still just as enjoyable as the first. Putting these two tracks right next to each other does a great job of emphasizing Brown’s emotional range: he can sing and scream the loud-and-exciting songs and soulful-and-tender songs with equal effortless proficiency. From this track until the end of the side, there is a brief ten-second bridge between each song performed by the brass section that really serves to maintain the momentum between each song. Because of this, the whole side feels like a sort of epic suite, with even the quiet and calm tracks acquiring a feeling of tension and anticipation. After “Try Me” comes “Think,” a short and rambunctious song with a chaotic rhythm and a jaw-dropping sense of power throughout. Brown’s vocals on this track are barely-coherent and really come off as more of a background to the instruments—unusual for this album, as his singing is usually so demanding of attention that he becomes the centerpiece of any one song—but honestly, in this instance, it really works. His vocals here perfectly complement the unhinged nature of the track. Next comes another slow ballad, “I Don’t Mind,” opening with a very understated, barely audible organ in the background that gives the song a strange, calming-yet-tense vibe that really makes the track stand out among the rest. As always, Brown’s vocals make the song, with an impressive level of sheer intensity delivered in a quiet tone. Even when he brings out the trademark scream, it’s quiet and incredibly controlled. This whole track is, simply put, a masterclass in restraint.

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James Brown delivering a riveting vocal performance. Image source:

Side B

The album’s second half kicks off with the showstopper, the ten-minute soulful blues jam, “Lost Someone.” This is the reason this album is still remembered all these years later, and is frankly worth the price of admission alone. It’s incredible length (which, by the way, is a third of the entire album’s running time) doesn’t hold it down at all: in fact I would argue that it wouldn’t even work with a shorter time frame. It’s an excellent example of repetition in music done right. The band plays, for the most part, the same bassline and trumpet part repeatedly, but with minute variations that keep it engaging, and, of course, James Brown’s once again jaw-dropping vocal performance. His voice really does carry this entire album, and on this track especially he imbues every line with passion. His singing is captivating, emotional, and engaging to no end. The audience simply can’t contain their excitement here, screaming and shouting with him along the way, with James even calling for some screams himself in a brilliant moment of call-and-response. After this ten-minute behemoth, the band transitions into a rapidly-changing medley of several songs, all packed into six minutes of time. Where “Lost Someone” was expansive and took it’s time, this medley moves from melody to melody faster than the listener can even keep track of it. In perfect honesty, I don’t like this track nearly as much as I do the rest of the album. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still great. It’s just that all of the musical ideas aren’t given nearly enough time to develop, and while I recognize that it’s a medley of preexisting songs, I just think it would’ve done better if it had given the song snippets a little more room to breathe. The vocals and band are just as captivating as they are on the rest of the album, but this track still stands out as an “alright” point in an album of incredibles. The album ends on a high note with the classic “Night Train,” with its instantly-recognizable brass part and a truly exhilarating bass and rhythm.

And just like that, the album’s over. Like I said before, the only bad thing I can say about this record is that there just isn’t enough of it. It’s one of the greatest live recordings ever put to record, and if you’ve never listened to this non-stop thrill ride before, you’re doing yourself a huge disservice. Let me know what you thought of the album, I’d love to hear your opinions!

Favorite Tracks: “Lost Someone,” “I’ll Go Crazy,” “I Don’t Mind,” “Think”

9/10 (by the way, starting with this review, I’ve decided to start giving albums numerical ratings out of ten! Let me know what you think about this, I’d really love to know.)

Next Up: Getz/Gilberto by Stan Getz and João Gilberto (1963)


Album Review #39: The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady by Charles Mingus (1963)

The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady, Charles Mingus

It’s about time we got around to Charles Mingus. Truly one of the greats of the world of jazz, his bass playing was unparalleled and his composing was mind-blowing. With this album, released 1963, he took the already well-respected genre of jazz and brought it to a level of challenge, aggression and complexity almost unheard-of by his peers and contemporaries. At the time, jazz was a lot of things: it was soft, gentle and soothing, it was loud, exciting and danceable. But until Mingus, it was never angry or even scary. With this masterpiece, Charles Mingus confronted the jazz scene with a mind-boggling opus of constant movement, frantic performances and musical concepts that until that point in music history had only been touched upon by some of classical’s great composers. Put simply, The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady is a complete game-changer for not just jazz, but popular music as a whole, filled with innovations, surprises and a style/structure that ensures it an incredible re-listening potential. (It is important to note, however, that a previous album of his, Mingus Ah Um, is just as highly regarded by critics, but for some baffling reason was sadly not included in this book. There’s a good chance I’ll get around to talking about that one sometime soon, but for now, Black Saint is more than deserving of our full attention.)

Side A

Track-by-track wise, this is a difficult album to review. It isn’t quite split into “tracks” per se, but rather into four continuous movements like some sort of modern-day jazz symphony. The whole record is intended as a single piece, so you can’t really have a “favorite track” here. I’ll at least try to analyse it, however, so let’s begin with the first of four movements, “Solo Dancer.” The opening to this album is just fantastic in every way. It starts off slowly and gradually, punctuated with buzzing notes from a roaring tuba played by Don Butterfield with a brilliant, distinctive timbre. Over the first few minutes the elements pile on and build in speed and intensity, ever-so-patiently stirring up a maddening whirlwind of sound that is both daunting and completely breathtaking to hear. Most of the album is improvised, but every performer on display has clearly mastered their craft to the peak of their abilities, and every solo is exhilarating. The second movement, “Duet Solo Dancers,” starts off much more mellow than the previous track, with a gentle piano intro and easy-going tempo and melody. Then, about two minutes in, it takes a turn for the menacing, with a slow one-two rhythm that stomps up and down, speeding up and building to a massive, disorganized crescendo that wields an energy so great that it leaves listeners speechless. The movement’s last couple minutes return to the main melody of the opening movement, which I actually quite like as it serves to further strengthen the full album as one long piece intended to be experienced as one. The final movement of Side A, “Group Dancers,” opens with another piano solo, but this time much more dark and ominous than the last. When the flutes come in with their swift, light but still slightly sinister melody, they give the impression of pirouetting ballet dancers, and the effect is strangely beautiful and awe-inspiring. Then comes what is honestly one of my absolute favorite parts of this record: Jay Berliner’s flamenco-style acoustic guitar work. With its angry, rapid and hypnotic strumming that reflects Latin Jazz, it’s a definite highlight of the album in my personal opinion. Although it only appears briefly in this movement, don’t you worry, because it’ll make a glorious return on Side B. Speaking of which…

Charles Mingus likesuccess[dot]com

Mingus and his legendary bass. Image source:

Side B

“Trio and Group Dancers” starts off the record’s second half with a familiar motif from earlier in the record. Let me stress that when he does this, it is not a mark of laziness, but rather it helps to give the album a strong sense of continuity. It makes the album truly feel like one continuous symphony rather than a collection of tracks, and the effect is wonderful. After a few minutes of as-always well performed variations on the theme, it segues into another brilliant guitar solo. Berliner’s playing style simply demands attention, hence why his guitar usually shows up solo on this record: he’s just so good that his presence would distract from everyone else playing. The couple of times he does collaborate with another instrumentalist, it is usually only a duet, either that or everyone else just gets ultra-quiet as if in awe. The rest of the movement is dominated by a lengthy, improvised piano solo, expertly performed by the auteur himself, Charles Mingus. Every piano solo on display in this record is excellent, but this one takes the cake, making expert use of every second it has and refusing to lose the listener’s attention for a second. The fifth movement that follows, “Single Solos and Group Dance,” continues building on the momentum of the previous movement, once again finding unique ways to riff on the recurring motif. The guitar makes a return, this time accompanied by an easy-to-miss marimba. It isn’t as shy this time, participating with the band to great effect. Over the next few minutes the music grows deranged and unhinged, making a ruckus and chaotically beating the time signature into submission. The line between this movement and the final movement, “Group and Solo Dance,” is a little blurred, and I’m not actually quite sure where one ends and the other begins, but in the end, that doesn’t really matter much. The album works much better as a single piece anyways. It closes with one final rendition of the original opening melody from the first movement, serving as a brilliant bookend to an often hectic, crazy, but constantly masterful album.

So I guess you can probably tell what I think of this one. What can I say? I loved it to no end. It’s probably my favorite jazz album on the list so far, and it’s an album I can absolutely see myself revisiting years down the line. It may seem intimidating at first, but it is a consistently exciting, engaging, and enthralling recording that knows what it’s doing and does it damn well. All I can say is that you need to hear it, and it will probably take me a long, long time before I find a better jazz album.

Favorite Tracks: “Movement C: Group Dancers,” “Movement D: Trio and Group Dancers,” “Movement A: Solo Dancer”

Next Up: Live at the Apollo by James Brown (1963)

Album Review #38: Live at the Harlem Square Club by Sam Cooke (1963)

Live at the Harlem Square Club (v. 1), Sam Cooke

This album is a bit of an interesting one, in that despite it being widely considered a classic 60’s record, it wasn’t actually given an official release until 1985. You can thank the geniuses at RCA Records, who apparently thought the recording was “too rough and gritty” for Sam Cooke’s clean pop image. This would eventually prove to be one of the most baffling record label decisions of all time, as it would become an immediate classic almost as soon as it left the archives 22 years later. The album really is quite astonishing, being without a doubt the greatest showcase of Cooke’s out-of-studio abilities of his entire tragically short career. We may never truly be able to understand record label executive’s thinking, but we can sure understand that they kept from the masses a true classic of live rock and R&B.

Side A

The album kicks off with an incredible intro of roaring, growling saxophone before “Mr. Soul” is introduced onto the stage. He takes a moment getting the crowd riled up before launching into the first song on the setlist: “Feel It.” The music on this record is loose, even a little sloppy, but this style serves the music very well. The energy in his voice is tangible, and the strumming of the guitar and bashing of the drums work together beautifully to create a loud, foot-stomping sound that would make any crowd go crazy. Next up is “Chain Gang,” punctuated by angry grunts and a ridiculously catchy vocal melody. The instrumentals are more of the same, but that’s not really a negative, as they just work so well with pretty much any song Cooke sings. It’s on this track that he first brings audience participation into the mix, with the crowd providing the song’s signature grunts throughout the second half. After that comes a song that’s much more sweet and gentle, the love ballad “Cupid.” I really can’t stress enough just how well Cooke’s voice promotes the music his band plays: be it loud and fast or soft and tender, he pulls it off with utter perfection on pretty much every track. This is even further exemplified by the following track, “It’s All Right / For Sentimental Reasons.” This is probably my favorite of the album’s nine songs. “Is everybody in favor of getting romantic?” Cooke calls to the crowd, with a resounding yes from the crowd. He starts it off with a spoken intro before jumping into his rough-but-powerful vocals, delivering each lyric with emotion and care. “Oh, I like this song!” he interjects between lines, and boy does it show. Probably the best part comes in the track’s second half, where the audience starts shouting out his lines for him. I don’t blame them one bit: his performance is simply so engrossing that, were I there in the crowd that night, I don’t think I’d be able to control my excitement either. The side wraps up with one last fast-and-exciting song, “Twistin’ the Night Away,” and the sheer momentum he’s built up by this point in the set is frankly astounding. The messy but highly enjoyable backing band is in full swing here, accompanying Cooke’s electrifying vocals with pure excellence. He can barely even contain himself onstage, and it’s with this track that I think his sheer talent for live performance is best on display.

Sam Cooke thoughtontracks[dot]com

Cooke in the recording booth, coffee in hand. Image source:

Side B

The record’s second side starts with “Somebody Have Mercy,” yet another passionate track with vocals sung with Gospel levels of emotion. The tense buildup of the second half is great, and its euphoric, explosive climax is simply one of the record’s finest moments. The song then seamlessly transitions into the next, “Bring it on Home to Me,” which takes the previous song’s energy and maintains it incredibly well. Cooke’s vocal melodies are truly one of R&B’s greatest, and this is one of the best places to hear it. The crowd’s still loving it, once again participating in the music with call-and-response shouting and the best sounding singing a large unorganized crowd is capable of pulling off. Up next is “Nothing Can Change This Love.” It’s short compared to the surrounding tracks, but it still proves itself to be a sweet and memorable pop tune that shines bright despite being sandwiched between much more prominent tracks. The final track of the setlist is “Having a Party.” It closes the album off excellently, although the fact that it closes the album off at all could be seen as a negative. “I don’t wanna quit!” he shouts, and you can tell the audience shares the sentiment. This is a performance that you just don’t want to end.

Just over a year after this live album was recorded, tragedy struck. To this day, the circumstances remain shrouded in mystery, but all that is known for sure about what happened can be summarized as the following. On December 11th, 1964, Bertha Franklin, manager of the Hacienda Hotel in Los Angeles, was confronted by Sam Cooke, who burst into her office half naked, seemingly in a daze. Franklin believed he was going to attack her, and in response pulled out a gun and shot Cooke in the chest. She maintained her stance that it was in self-defense, but many to this day refuse to believe her version of the story. Firstly, there were no witnesses other than Bertha Franklin herself. Secondly and perhaps most damningly of all, Cooke’s body was found to have been badly beaten in the autopsy report. To this day nobody knows the truth of what really happened, and both sides carry valid points and arguments. Either way, fans were utterly horrified and distraught. 200,000 people attended Sam Cooke’s funeral a week later, and he remains regarded as one of R&B’s greatest talents.

In spite of the tragedy that loomed in the near future, this live recording remains an engrossing document of a man at the absolute peak of his musical talents. Live at the Harlem Square Club is one of the greatest live recordings of the decade, and any fan of classic rock and R&B owes it to themself to give this record a good listen. This one has my top recommendation.

Favorite Tracks: “It’s All Right / For Sentimental Reasons,” “Somebody Have Mercy,” “Twistin’ the Night Away,” ” Feel It,” “Bring it on Home to Me”

Next Up: The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady by Charles Mingus (1963)

Album Review #35: With The Beatles by The Beatles (1963)

With the Beatles, The Beatles

This album is hard for me to review. Not because of how ludicrously important it is to music as a whole, (I had no problem reviewing Elvis Presley or Kind of Blue, after all) but simply because of how close and personal it is to me. This right here is, like, all I would listen to as a kid, and as such almost every track holds a deep-rooted nostalgia factor to me. I’ll try to review this record as objectively as I can, but in this instance that will be pretty much borderline impossible. Anyways, as the first of seven Beatles albums included in the book, (but not the first Beatles album, as Please Please Me sadly did not make the cut) this album has a lot of hype to live up to. Thankfully, I would say that it absolutely does.

First off, simply for clarity, every Beatles album I will be reviewing will be the original U.K. release, and not the butchered and gutted North American versions released by Capitol. In addition, going forward, if there are two separate versions of a specific album, I will be reviewing the version with more content. If the two versions both contain tracks unique to each other, I’ll be reviewing a sort of “composite” version containing all tracks, such as, for example, Aftermath by The Rolling Stones or Are You Experienced? by The Jimi Hendrix Experience. Alright, back on topic. This album, or at least the crappy Capitol version Meet the Beatles, was their big breakthrough in America, and hearing the plethora of grade-A pop songs on this record, it isn’t difficult to see why. Right from the get-go, “It Won’t Be Long” explodes with superb guitar hooks and “yeah” chanting, and the follow-up, “All I’ve Got to Do” sports some fantastic vocal harmonies. “All My Loving” is just a hypnotic whirlwind of guitar strumming and harmonized lyrics, and to be perfectly honest, every single track on this album has something going for it. I think my personal favorite would have to be “Till There Was You,” which is really just beautiful. It serves as a nice break from the energetic rock and roll populating the rest of the record.

The Beatles 1963, fanpopdotcom.jpg

The Beatles, c. 1963.

From left to right: John Lennon, George Harrison, Paul McCartney, and Ringo Starr.

Image Source:

While this is certainly the better album by a longshot, I think its predecessor Please Please Me deserves a mention as well. It’s looser, less refined, and generally just less developed as With The Beatles, but its collection of tracks is still quite strong; the opener, “I Saw Her Standing There,” is as good as anything on its follow-up, “Love Me Do” is fully deserving of its status as first Beatles hit, and of course their cover of “Twist and Shout” is simply essential. With The Beatles is still the superior album, however. It just seems to know what it’s doing so much more, and each and every melody, harmony, hook and bridge just feels more well-thought-out. Please Please Me is more of a picture of the learning artist than the artist at its peak, and With The Beatles a portrait of the artist that has improved upon itself and truly refined their craft.

In summary, With The Beatles is one of the best showcases of their pure, basic pop-making expertise of their discography. Each song is short and to-the-point, and every hook and melody is memorable and well-written. Later albums would see them drop their mop-top personas and dive head-first into innovation and experimentalism, but if you’re looking for a good picture of their music-making skill in its most basic form, there’s no better place to start than here.

Favorite Tracks: “Till There Was You,” “All I’ve Got to Do,” “It Won’t Be Long,” “All My Loving”

Next Up: The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan by Bob Dylan (1963)

Album Review #33: Jazz Samba by Stan Getz and Charlie Byrd (1962)

Jazz Samba, Stan Getz and Charlie Byrd.jpg

This right here is widely credited as the album that first introduced the genre of bossa nova to American ears, and there really is no better album to do the job. There doesn’t seem to be a moment within this album without a catchy rhythm, ultra-soothing melody, or just overall relaxing sound. This album is calm, cool, and just plain enjoyable and feel-good. Art can just get so gloomy and depressing sometimes, you know? It’s refreshing when an album comes along with the sole goal of simply making the listener smile and enjoy themself. So if you’re feeling down, this is a great album to pick you right up.

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Stan Getz. Image source:

Stan Getz and Charlie Byrd on this record are a match made in heaven. With Stan on the sax and Charlie on the classical guitar, the two work together and combine perfectly, complimenting each other excellently with each note and chord. This album uses stereo very interestingly, splitting the two between the two audio channels so that the two both get a channel all to themselves, with Stan on the left, Charlie on the right, and the bass and drums centered in the middle. This makes for an absolutely blissful experience when wearing headphones, and I really think it’s the best way to experience this record. Anyways, back to the performances themselves. Stan plays wonderful improvised melodies on his tenor, and Charlie’s harmonies and chords are pure perfection as a backup instrument. The other players are not to be ignored however: Bill Reichenbach Sr. and Buddy Deppenschmidt provide excellent percussion, and Keter Betts’ bass is indispensable. They all work together to create the perfect relaxing mood, and simply sitting back in a comfortable chair and enjoying the record is something that simply must be experienced.

Charlie Byrd archivedotjsonlinedotcom.jpg

Charlie Byrd. Image Source:

The opener and hit single “Desafinado” is probably the highlight of the album’s seven tracks, with an almost stupidly calming and ear-pleasing intro, but the other six aren’t slouches either. “O Pato” is short but incredibly sweet, and the final track, “Bahia,” acts as a perfect wrap-up of the album. Picking favorites really just does the album a disservice though, and much like Bill Evans Trio’s Sunday at the Village Vanguard, it really is better when taken as one cohesive whole, rather than a simple collection of tracks. They’re all so calm and soothing anyway, that you’re pretty much too relaxed and at peace to really differentiate the tracks. And I guess that more than anything is a better sign of a great album, rather than having anything that could be called the “best track” out of the bunch.

So this record was my first experience with the bossa nova, and let me tell you, I am in love. This record truly was the best ambassador for the genre to the general American listener, and whether its popularity is owed to its sound being unfamiliar or simply because it’s a great record is a little hard to tell. But really, does it matter? Album’s good. That’s all I really care about. Do yourself a service and just chill out to this album. You’ll thank me.

Favorite Tracks: “Desafinado,” “O Pato,” “Samba de Uma Nota Só,” “Bahia”

Next Up: Night Life by Ray Price (1963)