Rock



Elvis Presley, “From Elvis in Memphis: Legacy Edition” (RCA/Legacy). By 1968, Elvis Presley had become a joke with a weak punchline. He’d blown his credibility on a series of lucrative but cringe-inducing films, had become more star than musician, and was routinely churning out treacle in Nashville recording studios, his still awesome voice the only (tenuous) connection to the watershed offerings of the previous decade. Then came the 1968 Christmas special, originally conceived by The King’s manager, Colonel Tom Parker, as yet another embarrassing act of commercial pandering by his regal cash cow. Interestingly, some music-oriented folks on the production side of the fence who still cared about Elvis took the special as an opportunity to remind the world that the man was still the man. Presley appeared clad in a killer black leather suit, sat around with his musician buddies in an intimate soundstage theater, and simply kicked butt. Elvis was back, and to drive the point all the way home, he followed up the “comeback special” by ditching Nashville’s corporate canyons for the funkier, grittier backstreets of home—Memphis, Tennessee. “From Elvis in Memphis” wrapped Presley’s sensual tenor in the glorious sound of Memphis soul, and for the first time in a long time, it sounded like the man cared about what he was doing. Forty years later, “In Memphis” is rightly considered to be a jewel in the crown. As it turns out, it was the last great thing Presley did, the new decade which yawned before him promising to be one dictated by a swift descent into a personal hell. This Legacy Edition of the masterpiece is the one to own. The original track listing has been immaculately remastered, and a bonus disc offers further gems from the Memphis sessions. A must-have package. ???? (Jeff Miers)



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“Woodstock—40 Years On: Back to Yasgur’s Farm” (Rhino, six discs). This is it. This is the one to have—the definitive overview of the most important music festival of the last half-century. Granted, there are priceless individual complete performances by Woodstock’s greatest figures—Jimi Hendrix, Santana, Sly&the Family Stone—that are pivotal. But for six discs of “Woodstock in a Box” this has never been equaled. There are, count ’em, 38 previously unreleased tracks including the Grateful Dead justifying itself in “Dark Star,” The Who, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Joe Cocker, Country Joe and the Fish, Mountain, The Incredible String Band, Joan Baez, Arlo Guthrie, Tim Hardin and Ravi Shankar, among others, in performances previously unissued. At the same time, the listings don’t even know the treasures it contains— that, for instance “Higher” and “I Want to Take You Higher” are entirely separate songs by Sly&the Family Stone and the set includes both (though only one is listed). In addition, some performances that had previously only been heard in truncated form are now heard complete—Canned Heat’s “Woodstock Boogie,” for instance, and The Who’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It.” Throw in Abbie Hoffman’s monomaniacal insistence on everyone becoming outraged over the Michigan jailing of “White Panther” John Sinclair (no one complied) and various different warnings and cajolings from the mike and you’ve got the historic presentation of the event. The truth is that few, if any, who were actually there heard it all (or, in many cases, were in any shape to) which will make this box a surprise for almost everyone—somewhere. Bud Scoppa’s chronology of acts isn’t exactly on the exalted level of the rest but it gives you an idea of what you’re listening to in context. ????(Jeff Simon)



Jazz



Luis Bonilla, “I Talking Now” (Planet Arts/Now Jazz Consortium). The title tune opens the disc and it tears the top of your head off. At a frantic rocket tempo, trombonist Bonilla, tenor saxophonist Ivan Renta and, especially, pianist Arturo O’Farrill rip through solos at white heat until everything goes into half-time so that bassist Andy McKee can solo and everything can return. What happens on the rest of the disc is bumptious, wildly extroverted passionate post-bop that will sit still for few restrictions, either of compositional structure or emotional mood. It’s as if someone took everything that was implicit in the music of Horace Silver 45 years ago and freely reconfigured it for the 21st century. ??? (J. S.)



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Lester Young, “Centennial Celebration” (Pablo Original Jazz Classics). If you’re looking for the best one-disc celebration of Lester Young’s massively influential tenor saxophone art in honor of his Aug. 27 centennial, you’re probably not going to ever beat the catch-all Prez disc put out at the time of Ken Burns’ “Jazz” series on PBS. What this is, quite nicely, is a collection of some great Lester Young that came out on Norman Granz’s Pablo—a live 1956 gig with Bill Potts’ local band at Olivia Davis’ Patio Lounge in Washington, D. C., and a couple of all-star Jazz at the Philharmonic sessions from 1952 and 1953 in Frankfurt, Germany, and Hartford, Conn. He was always a much lustier player than his West Coast jazz imitators took him to be—especially late in life—and, at the same time, he was always way ahead of every other swing tenor contemporary when it came to space and phrasing. In its entire history, jazz has had only a couple hands full of truly elemental tenor saxophone players. Lester Young was among the greatest of them. ????(J. S.)



Classical



American Anthem, Nathan Gunn, baritone, Kevin Murphy, piano (EMI Classics). Nathan Gunn’s deep, dramatic baritone bridges Broadway and opera. On this reissue of a 1999 release, he sings 22 American songs, well-known and not. The songs are melodic and they contrast with each other nicely. “Brother Can You Spare a Dime”—which Gunn sings like an aria of desperation—leads into Ned Rorem’s contemplative “Early in the Morning.” A few are folk arrangements— “Shenandoah,” “Long Time Ago.” Perhaps the secret to all these songs’ success is that you get the idea the composers were not trying to be great. Charles Ives’ 24-second-long “Slugging a Vampire” and minutelong “Two Little Flowers” are masterpieces because of their weightlessness. Some of the best songs are in the cabaret style, by William Bolcom and Gene Scheer, who is better known as a lyricist. Murphy is a sensitive pianist, and Gunn opens his mouth and lets the songs rip, with gusto and spontaneity. ????(Mary Kunz Goldman)



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Howard Shelley, Concertos by Benedict and Macfarren (Hyperion). The British pianist Howard Shelley is everywhere these days. He has a new Chandos disk of concertos by Schumann, Grieg and Saint-Saens. It’s good, and I have heard it played on WNED-FM. This disk explores the work of obscure composers Julius Benedict and Walter Macfarren. It is interesting to listen to this music to hear what makes the greats great. The music is lively, and there are occasional moments that make you think of Schumann or Beethoven—I am thinking of a lyrical passage in the first movement of Benedict’s E flatconcerto— but most often, something doesn’t measure up. A theme you have high hopes for lets you down, or the harmonies are unadventurous. Shelley does make the music a lot of fun, with his limber technique and unflagging enthusiasm. The piano and orchestra, along with that pristine Hyperion sound, do a good job of drawing your attention to occasional moments of real beauty. ???(M. K. G.)



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Mozart, The Complete Violin Concertos performed by violinist Gidon Kremer and the Kremerata Baltica (Nonesuch, two discs). Here’s a puzzle and an anomaly: Gidon Kremer, neither temperamentally or intellectually or technically the most natural of Mozart violinists, pays tribute here to “Nikolas Harnoncourt” for giving “me the ability to look at Mozart without prejudices.” What do you suppose that means? Shades of Glenn Gould, for whom Mozart was a decidedly ambivalent figure, never to be performed without acid or even antic and demolitionist hostility (no one could toss off an inappropriately and contemptuously breakneck tempo like Gould). A fuller and richer tone than Kremer’s might suit this music from Mozart’s 20s more but Kremer and his orchestra do a reasonably rich and expressive job with all of this. ???(J. S.)



Cabaret



Amanda McBroom Sings Jacques Brel (Chanson). Amanda McBroom is the songwriter, actress and cabaret-singer best known for writing “The Rose,” made famous by Bette Midler. She credits brooding, worldly Belgian-born songwriter Jacques Brel as her inspiration. McBroom, joined by pianist Michele Brourman and various small combos, sings Brel in a way that is admirably straightforward and only rarely overwrought. “Girl in an Armchair” is affecting in its understatement. The songs have an irresistible jaded weariness: In “Songs for Old Lovers,” in between declarations of “I love you,” there’s this calm, affectionate line: “You took a lover here and there/when there was time enough to spare/or when your body’s fire was raging.” How French! Some songs, like “Early Morning Hangers On,” don’t quite work in English, and “If We Only Have Love” suffers from a canned beat. But McBroom sings from the heart, and these are songs worth hearing and keeping. ??? (M. K. G.)