CD reviews

Darden Smith, Ill Tactics, the Weird Weeds, Roscoe Beck

By Joe Gross
AMERICAN-STATESMAN STAFF
Friday, January 20, 2006

Darden Smith
'Field of Crows' (Dualtone)

There is something deeply civilized about Darden Smith's music. He started as a proverbial bright young thing, releasing his first album in 1986, and his second on Epic in 1988. In '93, he was recast as an adult pop act, á la John Hiatt, which didn't make him a household name but seemed to expand his skill set. Over the years, his music moved away from the Texas-bred roots-tonk of his youth to something quieter and more introspective. It also seemed to free up his pen — this is his fourth album since 2000 and suddenly it sounds as if he's making the music he was always meant to make. The man now records albums a little too frequently for a new one to qualify as an event, but the trade-off is that we understand his art better.

On "Field of Crows," Smith rarely lets his pulse rise above "mellow thrum." He claims the album was made under the influence of such mellow-thrum classics as Neil Young's "Harvest" and Nick Drake's "Five Leaves Left," so that's not too surprising.

But on songs like the lovely, polyrythmic "Mary" and "Golden Age" (one of two songs with Eliza Gilkyson) Smith's whisper is a weirdly centered instrument, one at peace with its place in the world: "If anybody asks/say I'm doing fine." The music corresponds — Smith's melodic piano chordings shape and lead the tunes, and, cut largely live in the studio, the songs breathe in a way that more singer-songwriters could learn from.

Wide-open hearts, thoughts on aging, sorrow at loss, some lightly swing on "Spinning Wheel" — Smith is making the music he's always wanted to make, and this album, openly and honestly, invites you along for the ride.
— Joe Gross

Ill Tactics Recordings
'American Rap Idol' (no label, yet)

Thanks to Matt Sonzala over at Houston So Real blog for putting the world onto the song of the year, so far. It comes from an MC from Beaumont who — over a sharp, professional beat — knocks out a devastating funny impression of nearly every culture-defining MC on the scene. Tactics goes into pure Rich Little territory, spitting signature styles like he has a hip-hop Autopen.

Here's the amazing part: This song scans not as Weird Al parody but as a genuine tribute — it's entirely possible to hear these lyrics coming from these artists. Check out 50 Cent ("I'm the king of New York/I thought I told you all"), Mike Jones ("Send me a demo/you can get an icy record deal"), Young Jeezy ("I'm a snowman/so much snow/I don't need a sweat gland/sweat gland"), Paul Wall ("What it dew, the people's champ steppin' in the place/If I can take a bite out of crime/ I can freeze the murder rate"), Nelly ("Now what your name is/you know you love that country grammar that I'm slangin' "), Scarface and others. An absolutely brilliant piece of zeitgeist that bodes well for the year in pop. God bless hip-hop and the Internet.

"American Rap Idol" can be downloaded at houstonsoreal.blogspot.com.
— J.G.

The Weird Weeds
'This is Not What You Want' (self-released)

A few months back, the Weird Weeds were loath to lump themselves in with outsider folk artists. Oddly, they've made a killer outside-folk EP in "This is Not What You Want." Improvisational guitar phenom and University of Texas student Sandy Ewen, indie rock vet singer/guitarist Aaron Russell (ex-the Teethe) and drummer Nick Hennies, who has guested with avant-pop melodrama queens Xiu Xiu — are one of Austin's more compelling pop acts. Blending avant-garde tendencies with more rigorous songwriting, the five-song download "This is Not . . ." shows a quieter side of the band. Acoustic textures rub against trilling drones. Van Morrison's "Sweet Thing" gets taken out for a fairly straightforward spin, until you notice the gentle guitar scraping and deep focus drone in the background, a touch that lends the track a modern cast — the Weird Weeds may deny a connection with psychedelic folk, but this is that music at its best, a rigorous melodic structure tweaked just enough to give it some arty bite. "Broken Arm" finds Russell and Ewen harmonizing over quiet percussion and a gentle riff. This is music at home at Cactus, Room 710 or any art opening.
— J.G.

Roscoe Beck
'Walk On' (Austone Records)

Bassist Roscoe Beck is not a famous name in the Austin music scene, but there might not be a player in town with a wider breadth of experience and tastes. Beck has fronted jazz bands, played the blues at Antone's, collaborated for years with singer-songwriter Leonard Cohen. In 1986, he co-produced "Famous Blue Raincoat" — a critically acclaimed album by singer Jennifer Warnes that sold more than a million copies.

Beck's debut solo album, "Walk On," honors and extends his reputation as an adventurous musical spirit. The record is a fun and rootsy run through a garden of soul and blues, populated by some of the very best musicians in Austin. Rockers Eric Johnson and David Grissom on guitar. Bluesers Kim Wilson and James Cotton on harmonica. Jazzer Brannen Temple on drums. Ruthie Foster, Mike Cross, Malford Milligan and Omar Dykes on vocals. And that's just half of it . . .

Although he wrote or co-wrote every song on the disc, Beck doesn't put himself in the spotlight. "Walk On" is a composer's album all the way, and it has the happy spirit of a high-spirited revue, Hammond organ always high in the mix, the guitars turned up loud. Beck takes us from soul stomp to blues walk to gospel shout . . . and then to something that sounds a little bit like Steely Dan.

Beck has always been quite the virtuoso on bass. Check out the man's next live show with singer-songwriter Darden Smith; his accompaniment is as sensitive and as elegant as it gets. Yet Beck is very much a selfless player – and this album reflects his larger conviction to showcase a kind of spirit, something bigger than so many musicians and their formidable chops.

For its celebration of our city's root-sy musical heritage, "Walk On" will feel warm and familiar to many Austin listeners. Yet Beck's record is daring, too, in its conviction that blues and jazz and soul and funk can live together in a modern musical treehouse. You might think of it, as Roscoe does, as "Blues for a New Day." Long live the spirit.
— Brad Buchholz