There is no stand out climax on this album; it occupies a lot of the same space throughout.

I must say that I was very disappointed by “Sweet.” Lines like “You ain’t the type of nigga to go against me/You get in my presence you gon’ feel like a little hoe” are completely devoid of the voice that sets Common apart. In order to engage in the adversarial rhetoric that dominates modern hip hop, he leaves behind his strengths and combats other rappers by ‘sinking to their level.’ However, the beat of “Sweet” is very catchy and there are many poignant lines like:  “my name is synonymous with prominence/I’m to hip hop what Obama is to politics.” In the act of self affirming, lowbrow, competitive argument, he performs (at some points) in such a way that communicates his intellect. Although, when the later track “Raw (How You Like It)” started off  with police sirens and the god forsaken “hip hop air horn” that have been on bland, worthless, mixtapes time after time for far too long, I had to throw my hands in the air in frustration.

With The Dreamer, The Believer, I couldn’t help but feel that Common is tired of not being the most popular rapper alive. There has never been any serious affront to his lyrical talent, his flow is mature, and his rhymes are fluid, yet he feels like he must conform to conventions that end up diluting the work. I can’t help but like this album somewhat, because it’s by Common.
Is it my favourite?
Far from it.
Do I like more than his other releases?
Maybe in some parts, but overall not a chance.
I can see this being a very popular album, and rightly so. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good album. With “Windows,” in a deep discourse into the modern status of women and family, Common draws from his own experience of raising a daughter. “Cloth” is a well focused progression of a tender, but strong relationship surviving adversity that relies on deft imagery to paint a vivid picture.

There is a lot of drive to this album, a lot of angst in the first part, and reflection/grounding in the last. Three years since Common’s last album Universal Mind Control, this is the first full length release produced by the collaboration of Warner Bros. Records and the artist’s own label Think Common. At times, I think that Common is simply paying his dues in giving WB (which, like any major musical corporation, is known for keeping a strong focus on its bureaucratic pursuits) what they want. However, Common’s approach is astute. He uses the new found production support to produce a large scale record that holds a few deep, dark moments of sheer realism intact.

7.8/10

-Sam Maroney

On November 26th, 2011, in the early hours of the morning, my cousin Thaddeus Lake and his two friends Kole and Brad were headed home to rest when they were hit from behind by a drunk driver. All three boys – Thaddeus at 22 years old, Kole and Brad both 18 – were pronounced dead at the scene of the crash.

Current Swell. Photo credit: Shane Deringer

February 3 at The Starlite Room (Headliner: Charlie Winston, opener: Current Swell)

Tickets are $24.75 and are available through Union Events.

I’ve heard some pretty wild stories about Current Swell’s hometown shows, however I thought I’d learn what expect from their upcoming show directly from frontman Scott Stanton. “I’m hoping that they will be well-behaved Edmontonians. The hometown crowd is just… an amazing bunch of boys and girls and… they’re fantastic. I just can’t wait to play again for them and it’ll be nice to hang out, because last time we played, we didn’t get to hang out because we were headlining. Our fans can expect the same old, same old. They’ll know what that means. But for fans that don’t know us, it’s just such a fun time, such a positive energy in the room.”

I’ll admit it, Current Swell’s music took a while to grow on me. If you’ve read any of my articles, you know that I mostly listen to, what I term, “really bad pop music.” You know, the kind with the repetitive bass, the same three chords played in succession, and the cheesy lyrics.

Current Swell’s music is not my typical “really bad pop music.” Their music been termed “surf rock,” “singer-songwriter,” and “modern electric blues” among other things, but the one that seems to stick is surf rock. As Stanton tells me, surf rock was never the type of music he and Dave Lang [Davers] set out to make during the hours they spent jamming in a Victoria backyard. In fact, the impetus for beginning to write their own music was not wanting to “write depressing songs about politics or love… we just wanted to write songs about short stories.” One night while jamming, the (then) duo decided they wanted to write songs because they hated what was on the radio saying, “let’s write stuff that no one else writes… what we were listening to was old music, not what was on the radio.”

So, how exactly does that philosophy work its way into their music and music-making process? Stanton says: “I mix my reality – memories from my past – mixed in with a cool story – some fiction that didn’t actually happen, but what I think would be really cool. Sometimes it’s just an idea pops into your head and the whole song is written and finished in a day…. It always changes. That’s why I love song writing. If it was as simple as, ‘alright! Here’s the story and here’s the song. Song’s done.’ I don’t think I would enjoy songwriting. I look at songwriting almost as a crossword puzzle and you have to put it together. You have your lyrics, you have your melody, your guitar, and you kind of have to fit it into this puzzle to make it work. The better the puzzle, the better the song, I think.”

Current Swell’s music is influenced by the blues and folk music that Stanton listened to growing up. When I listen to Current Swell’s music, I can’t help but feel a bit nostalgic. Maybe it’s the banjo, or the scratchy vocals, or the slight vocal twang at the end of each line (none of which, I admit, were actually part of my childhood).

“I grew up listening to tons of Neil Young and Led Zeppelin, but mostly a lot of old, old, old, dirty Delta blues music. You know like Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, and Son House, and folk music like Bob Dylan and Lead Belly and Mississippi John Hurt. Growing up… I had a lot of great friends in St. Albert, but I felt a little out of place when it came to music. I don’t think I knew anyone else who shared a love for that type of music…. I [also] listened to rap and stuff like that growing up, but it just seemed like all my friends listened to a lot of heavy music, where I was listening to my Dad’s old records. When I moved out to the coast… [I felt like] this place is me… I felt like I was on their page the whole time, it was really weird. Every time I went out to Vancouver when I was younger, I just felt like I was home…. And a lot of things fell into place when I moved to [Victoria].”

Despite being firmly rooted in the west coast’s easy-going surf culture, Current Swell’s music translates across many locales. This spring they’ll be playing at South by Southwest after wrapping up a cross-Canada tour, and future plans include concerts as far away as Brazil.

Want more Current Swell? Check out their Facebook page - including their campaign to boycott bottled water – and catch them opening for Charlie Winston February 3 at The Starlite Room.

- Jenna Marynowski

Three Sheet isn’t lying when they say they’re a “genre-blending powerhouse.” The Halifax-based hop-hop group combines their rhymes with jazzy backing vocals, psychedelic guitar lines, and ’90s melancholy on their new album, Sheet Music. It’s an unexpected combination, which is exactly why it works.

Three Sheet’s mix of genres wouldn’t work nearly as well if not for the presence of Vanessa Furlong. Her soulful cries bring alive the mournful lyrics of “Three Dollar Billz” and “Norm Now” and compliment the songs’ sorrowful guitar lines. Thankfully, Furlong isn’t just confined to background vocals. She takes the lead on several songs, but the strongest is undoubtedly “Believe It To Me.” In fact, it’s my favourite track on the entire album. When pop music is so saturated with lyrics demeaning women, I’m overjoyed when female artists make empowering music.

“For What It’s Worth”  is the other star track of Sheet Music. The band’s front man, Expedyte, recounts a family history filled with hardship. “For what it’s worth, I’ll never forget the pain.” In sharing stories of pain and lived experience, the song gets to the heart of hip-hop’s origins. And in avoiding over-synthesized production, the band brings hip-hop back to its roots in both sound and content.  The band emphasizes that their sound is “organic,” and I can’t disagree.

That said, the album isn’t perfect. I zoned out for the last half of the album, as some of the songs began to sound alike. But the album saved itself from monotony with its final track - “The Bees” is energetic and forms a chorus of voices filled with the weary hope that one must have after years of hardship. “I just put all my weight in these words that scream my world.” It’s this level of emotional investment that makes Sheet Music so memorable.

-Becky Smith-Mandin

The highlights of the album are no doubt the improvised sections. There’s a beautiful exchange between Peters, his drummer and a sax player on “Rockin Daddy” that practically sold the whole album for me. The organ solo on Peters cover of “I Got A Woman” is breathtaking. The title track “Face Time” is another favorite, as it plays with the competition between human intimacy and electronics. If anything these sections of the album made me long to see Peters’ live show.

Which brings me to my one complaint about the album: in order to fit in with the timelessness of 50s jazz, the first half of the album seems to throw around lyrical clichés. It’s not a huge problem, because those clichés sound so good being sung by Mr. Peters, and for the most part the focus of those songs are the virtuoso of the instrumentation. However, the ballads on the album feel dated: “It’s Over Now” and “Songbird”  especially lack genuine feeling because of their reliance on clichés.

Overall, its a great album with a few snags, rather than a bad album with a few highlights. Would I recommend it to jazz lovers? Absolutely.

-Eric T. Behr

All of the classical musicians in Edmonton have opinions about each other, though I would venture to say that few of them have to go writing all about their colleagues on the world wide web for all to see. Since I am one of those few, I am grateful that the quality of classical music in Alberta’s capital is generally so high. So, the challenge is truly found in coming up with something to say other than the fact that another concert was good. On Sunday afternoon, the Scona Chamber Singers reminded me what separates the good concerts from the great ones.

Repertoire. This is the component that can make a concert entirely interesting or entirely boring. I have previously mentioned the plight that is classical music’s survival in this technology-obsessed era. When an artist programs a concert, no matter the genre, the choices of repertoire that s/he makes can pre-determine a lot about the number of people that will show up and the number of people that will stay past intermission. This means that an artist who chooses repertoire based on an assumption that s/he is entitled to an audience is doomed to fail. Audiences will feel no love and give no love back if they feel that not a penny of their ticket dollars gave them a say in what they would hear that night.

How does one artist include so many people in selecting repertoire before they all enter the building? It is not about a particular song that you think everyone wants to hear; it is about recognizing that the repertoire you choose immediately tells your audience how smart you think it is. I am going to come right out and say it (even at the risk of dissent from my colleagues): some famous composer’s signature on a score does not make it a good piece of music. If you program a boring or, frankly, bad piece of music, you better have a really good story behind it or your audience will wonder why you have wasted its money. Random concert programming is the death knell for classical music; there is more than enough mediocre repertoire out there to inspire yawns from the audience if the music is not given justification. Thankfully, Sunday’s concert drew far more applause than it did yawns.

John Brough, Jolaine Kerley and their Scona Chamber Singers are all part of an increasingly strong early music movement throughout Edmonton and Alberta. Early music is probably the toughest repertoire to sell to fast-paced society, yet they have done admirably well. Their concert, “Music of the Sistine Chapel,” showed once again how they can manage to fill Holy Trinity Anglican Church on a regular basis. There is no point detailing the quality of the choir; they consistently produce one of the finest sounds for a 16-voice choir I have heard in all of my years in choral music. It is just that simple. What kept me hooked to their concert was the connective tissue that bound the music together from start to finish.

Beyond the fact that all of the composers were either directly attached to the Sistine Chapel or inspired by those who were, the major linking feature was the opening piece by Luca Marenzio, entitled “Che fa oggi il mio sole.” Gregorio Allegri wrote a mass with Marenzio’s piece as its theme, and the choir interspersed the various movements of this mass within the other pieces. Add in one part famous tune (Josquin des Prez’s “Ave Maria”) and one part definitive Renaissance composers (Thomas Louis da Vittoria and Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina), and you had yourself an accessible concert whose storyline could have easily enticed the most stalwart opponent of early music. John Brough’s pleasant explanation of the thoughtful programming was a welcome bonus.

When I began writing for Sound and Noise, I was not planning to write on a theme of classical music’s survival. After several months as a contributor, I have come to realize the importance of recognizing artists and ensembles whose performances will only have a positive impact on the future of a genre that is so important to me. Yes, my reviews have been consistently favourable, but this is because I find joy in acknowledging the work that my colleagues do to tell the world why classical music will be eternally important. It is an honour I do not take lightly, and it inspires me to remember that I have a responsibility in my own performing to do exactly the same thing. We all do.

-Mark Wilkinson

His specialty is Liszt, which speaks for itself. Only the most virtuosic performers would even attempt a piece like Liszt’s transcription of Berlioz‘s Symphonie Fantastique - “the Witches’ Sabbath” is a hellish movement to play in its original orchestral version, let alone after Liszt added his madness to the mix. Massive choral themes are condensed to octaves on the piano, so that it must be played with as much intensity and volume as a 150-piece orchestra and bellowing choir. Simultaneously, the pianist is expected to hammer out approximately ten thousand notes per second. At other moments, the pianist must cross hands at a great rate; a technique which involves playing steadily in the middle register with one hand, while the other hand leaps back and forth to play both high and low registers.

All this was done by Gekic with intense emotional involvement. They were not just techniques, but expressions of turmoil or sweetness, anguish or joy. In an in-concert interview with conductor Bill Eddins, Gekic claimed that courage is what a pianist needs most to play Liszt. One needs quite a bit of courage just to listen to it.

Another of the selections was a rarely-played Liszt transcription of Beethoven’s “Ruins of Athens”. Despite the distraction of a piano which was unfortunately out of tune – through no fault of Gekic – the composition was fascinating. Both Liszt and Beethoven have unique styles, and somehow Liszt managed to incorporate themes that are distinct to each. At times there is no question where the transcription came from, during one of Beethoven’s sweeping melodies or ground-breaking chord progressions. At other times, Liszt’s wild form of Impressionism breaks through in all its untamed glory, swallowing up Beethoven’s more traditional method.

The two composers are not without similarity; they are known for making some of the same controversial choices, such as the use of triangle, which up until Beethoven’s Eroica in 1803 was associated entirely as a Turkish march instrument. On Saturday night’s program, a very similar theme appeared in both “the Ruins of Athens” and Liszt’s Second Piano Concerto. A pastoral section midway through each piece involved a pair of duets between triangle, piano and flute. In “the Ruins”, Gekic played a light, almost trilling theme at the very top of the keyboard – all the while, sending little smiles to the audience, as though to invite them into a private joke. The flute chimed in to provide a very sweet countermelody. The second time around – Beethoven must have known that once would not be enough – the piano took over the countermelody, while the triangle  pinged its agreement. In Liszt’s concerto, almost the same theme occurred, with the piano an triangle trilling along to the flute theme.

The intimacy of Friday’s sell-out concert at the Winspear made it feel rather like a chamber recital. Kemal Gekic might have been playing simply for his own pleasure, and when the 1600 people in the audience happened upon him, he was pleased for the rest of us to enjoy as well. After his fourth visit to Edmonton in a decade, there is no doubt that we do enjoy him very much.

However, despite the liveliness of the program, the symphony did not have much spunk. The issue seemed to be largely due to a lack of volume. Perhaps it was in deference to tiny ears, but not even “The Ride of the Valkyries” was loud enough. There were exceptions – there is a brilliant tuba solo toward the end of that piece which certainly had flair. But the general effect was not too exciting.

At times this serenity was appropriate. “The Internal Dance” from Stravinsky’s 1919 “Firebird Suite” is a minimalistic piece, and best suited to a withdrawn style of performance. It was an ideal choice to pair with aerial silk, which is a very slow form of acrobatics. The orange-clad aerialist climbed up and down a pair of ribbons, wrapping it around herself so that she could swing hands-free 30 feet in the air. Between each of those thrilling moments was an almost meditative process of preparation, narrated by the simple melodies of the Suite.

It was a daring choice for a finale, rather than the more common race to the end with crashes and bangs. Her final move was synchronized with the orchestra. As the Davis organ rumbled to life, she rolled herself higher and higher up the ribbons, until on the final chord, she let go and plunged down like a diving bird, suspended by fiery ribbons.

—MaryGrace Johnstone

Their set list included some original tunes scattered among reggae covers of ska and 80s classics including Cheap Trick’s “I Want You To Want Me” and A-Ha’s “Take On Me.” The familiarity was welcome, and the band was fairly successful at transferring hooks between their lead guitarist and the lovely lady on trombone. The group allowed both room to improvise. I was particularly impressed by one song played both during sound check and during the actual set in which their guitarist pumped out two equally fantastic solos that were by no means related. It was interesting to see him work as his influences seemed to range from the soulful blues leads of B. B. King to the speedy sweeps of Eddie Van Halen whilst his rhythm work was clearly reggae.

The band’s lead female vocalist is also a force to reckon with. She has an incredible proficiency and never missed a note, in spite of her claims of having a cold, but what impressed me most was the amount of personality she would inject into each song. She wasn’t simply showing off her range like so many divas, but rather would add a little humor here and there, speaking some lyrics for emphasis, and would save the full force of her voice for key climactic moments. She had an amazing R&B growl that would surface only occasionally to tease the listener. Her restraint from using her full power added anticipation to her performance and effectively eliminated any potential for redundancy. It also helped that she had two very effective harmonizing back-up singers to add extra dynamics to each song.

There’s not much else to say. I would have liked to have heard a little more of the keyboard, but for the most part it was excellently mixed and the venues acoustics were quite desirable. So if you feel like dancing any time this week, skip the DJ sets playing the same club hits and head on over to Blues On Whyte for a real live dance party.

-Eric T. Behr

Entering Northern Alberta Jubilee Auditorium last Tuesday night felt like stepping into a ball by accident. Immediately I was surrounded by clouds of perfume, make up and glitter: little girls in posh dresses, nicely done hair with clips, tiaras and bows – chic, fancy, glamorous. Everybody looked their best.  And then there was me: in a good old flannel shirt and some sort of cowboy jeans with holes in them. Slightly underdressed for the Beauty and The Beast Broadway Musical. The odd one amongst all those princesses and princes. I felt like a foreigner: a little out of place. But in a weird backwards way my feelings of alienation fit right into the musical.

It is a well known fact that fairy tales always try to pass on some sort of moral. They are there for us to learn something, to take something with us, to prevent us from making mistakes. Beauty and The Beast shows a woman who likes to dream, to read, to think beyond the obvious, who has imagination. There is a whole village who doesn’t understand her, calls her odd and leaves her out of the scene, talks behind her back. There is a superficial poser, who doesn’t think about anything else but his own beauty and strength, who appears to be mean and sneaky when he tries to fulfill his wishes. There also is a selfish prince, without a heart, without a single thought of others. The story of the Beauty and The Beast has many layers and leaves room for a critical soul-searching. How do I behave? Am I mean? Do I care for other people? It is simple, but very important to check our behavior once in a while. Watching a film, a play or a musical should help us do that, as well as entertain us.

And there is the reason why I want to question the show I saw that Tuesday night. Don’t get me wrong, the production of ‘Beauty and The Beast’ was beautiful, grand, magical, enormous and very well done. Everybody who knows the Disney Cartoon from 1991 well realizes the amazing similarity between the musical and the film. It was Disney through and through. The actors acted in the same way the cartoon figures did and they even looked exactly like them. The costumes were very inventive and I couldn’t think of a better way to dress somebody up as a clock, a tea pot, a cupboard or a candle holder. The stage design was complex, well thought out and full of surprises. There was confetti flying through the air, a big moon, stars, a dancing fairy, wolves that looked like real wolves (I’m still trying to figure out if they used puppets or actual people dressed up as wolves). The most amazing stage effect was probably the metamorphoses of the Beast. He was swirling through the air and came down as the prince. It looked so real, that it felt like we really got to watch a magical moment. The entire musical was colorful, intense and loaded.

But to be honest, it was too much for me. The overload didn’t leave me enough room for own thoughts, own pictures, own imagination. It somehow overlapped the story itself. It made me focus on the effects and not on the tale. The beauty of the production even seemed like a contradiction to the critical points the story wants us to think about: beauty vs. imagination, entertainment vs. thinking beyond the obvious. Don’t be superficial! But you know what? There really is no harm in simply being entertained once in a while.

Disney’s Beauty and the Beast plays until January 8, 2012 at the Jubilee Auditorium. Get tickets here.

-Nine Muster