Thaione Davis
Situation Renaissance (Birthwrite Records)
“We’re just doin’ a little somethin’ different for ya,” remarks Thaione Davis, midway through his latest release on discerning local hip-hop label Birthwrite Records. And from the cover art’s Blue Note Records-inspired chiaroscuro to the eight richly embellished yet gritty tracks inside, “Situation Renaissance” merits that description. Straight-ahead jazz is an ongoing influence for Davis — a hometown MC/producer/deejay who typically performs in a currently genre-atypical suit and tie — and the dapper rapper’s Chicago-centric disc is laced with atmospheric horn-keyboard grooves and layers of social-commentary lyrics. His aim here, to “respect the architects” of black music, is most strikingly realized on “Local 181”: built on a languid sample of Quincy Jones’ version of “Caravan,” drawing parallels between struggling hip-hop artists and spiritual forebears from Miles Davis to Shuggie Otis.
— Moira McCormick
Jesse Malin
The Heat (Artemis)
“Buddy Holly told me you can’t save rock ‘n’ roll/It’s only for the lonely boys and girls,” Jesse Malin sings on “Swinging Man.” Treating that sentiment as gospel on his second record, the former D Generation singer immerses himself in a New York City populated by whores, cocaine cowboys and social dropouts who share his heartache and isolation. Putting punk on the backburner, country and jangle-rock accents break up Malin’s mid-tempo acoustic-electric rhythms. A handful of insistent beats lighten up an otherwise mellow, depressed atmosphere. Replete with emotional bleeding, Malin’s made the album that his pal and former producer Ryan Adams so desperately wants as his own. But for all its charm, songwriting and arrangements betray “The Heat” as the artistic and intellectual property of Paul Westerberg.
— Bob Gendron
Caetano Veloso
A Foreign Sound (Nonesuch)
It seems like such a great idea to get Veloso, Brazil’s endlessly innovative pioneer of the Tropicalia movement, he of the supple, boyish voice, to record an album of personal favorites. No one could be surprised to see his disparate choices for covers: the kitschy “The Carioca” (a Brazilian version of an American-invented Brazilian rhythm), “Feelings” (a Brazilian song passing as American), Kurt Cobain’s “Come As You Are,” Lord Burgess’ “Jamaica Farewell,” and a whole mess of Gershwin, Porter, Presley and even Paul Anka.
Stunningly, it turns out to be a rather feckless exercise. Veloso treats each selection in the exact same way: almost reverentially.
Out of the whole mess, the two that stand out are “Jamaica Farewell,” which he mostly leaves alone, and “The Man I Love,” which is here full of light and grace.
But Veloso misses to the point of embarrassment with “Come As You Are” and Arthur Hamilton’s “Cry Me a River,” in which he sounds absolutely simpering.
— Achy Obejas
