Elvis Costello, “Secret, Profane & Sugarcane” (Hear Music)
If you listen to talking about it, his most recent outing is not a bluegrass record. But if you listen to the album, produced by T-Bone Burnett, you might think differently. It’s not bluegrass simply because of the instrumentation — Dobro, fiddle, mandolin, accordion and double bass — or the band (full of marquee names) backing him up. The lush full-length is bluegrass because it feels like bluegrass — the luminous stories of harrowing sadness and the occasional feeling of unabashed joy.
Costello and his new band, the Sugarcanes (bluegrass stalwarts Jerry Douglas, Stuart Duncan, Mike Compton, Jeff Taylor and Dennis Crouch), will tour this summer, including a headlining stint at the Telluride Bluegrass Festival on June 19. That the singer-songwriter is drawn to this instrumentation makes sense. Some of his peers (including Robert Plant) have found financial and artistic success by cutting rootsy records.
Costello deserves both. This collection of old Costello favorites (“Complicated Shadows”), covers (“Changing Partners”), new collaborations (“I Felt the Chill”) and songs plucked from Costello’s opera in progress (“She Handed Me a Mirror”) is a tour de force regardless of the genre. Costello’s vocals (backed up by Jim Lauderdale) spin a couple of ageless yarns that would fit in any decade, and the album is proof that there is plenty of artistic merit in the repurposing of a musician’s back catalog. — Ricardo Baca
Elephant Micah, “Exiled Magicians” (Third Uncle Records)
, a.k.a. singer-songwriter Joe O’Connell, has evolved in all the best ways over the years. Clearly inspired by the intimacy, production values and tenor of early Palace and Songs: Ohia albums, Kentucky/Indiana-based O’Connell and his crew have progressed from spare, lo-fi acoustic recordings to slick, lush, equally visceral documents that lose none of the former discs’ charm.
On “Exiled Magicians,” recorded to 1/2″ tape in 2007 by musical cohort (do yourself a favor and look up his ), O’Connell serves up more of the same while subtly expanding his palette.
The opener/title track is a patiently finger-picked lament that finds O’Connell singing quasi-falsetto through lush reverb and melancholy, inscrutable lyrics (“Exotic criminals looking for food. We’re bankrupt. Held in contempt of a style that’s unkempt. We’re baffled).” A delicately harmonized fiddle and some rattling change acts as a solo before the more robust — albeit equally down-tempo — “We Do” washes in on cymbal-soaked traps, organ and more crisp guitar notes.
This isn’t upbeat stuff. But neither, for the most part, are the aforementioned indie-folk and alt-country signposts (Will Oldham, Jason Molina, etc.) that O’Connell frequently drives by. The relatively vigorous intstrumental coda in the devastating “Fortune Telling,” the textured outro on “Levi and Daniel” or the layered, all-instrumental “Palms Proceeding” might be the loudest parts of the record, but this isn’t music that rests on its volume. Poetic insight (“If I Wore Wigs”), and calm, delicious restraint are its weapons.
Elephant Micah may not be a household name, but that know and love O’Connell’s catalog (myself included) also know his hauntingly beautiful work isn’t for everyone. Fortunately for us, “Exiled Magicians” proves O’Connell’s gifts are just getting stronger. — John Wenzel
Phoenix, “Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix” (Glassnote)
The French pop band has changed a lot over its decade or so together, aping different trends in the dance and indie-rock worlds with an alarming efficiency. On their latest release, they fulfill the threat of earlier albums by presenting a collection of airtight songs with oodles of hooks and zero originality.
It’s embarrassing to watch critics unanimously declaring “Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix” as the band’s best album when 2006’s “It’s Never Been Like That” was essentially Part 1 of the band’s current trend-humping phase. Singer Thomas Mars and crew have found new ways to perfect the stylistic theft of enjoyable but utterly contrived acts like the Strokes (don’t get me wrong — they’re catchy as hell, just nowhere near groundbreaking).
There’s no fat on songs such as “Lisztomania” or “Lasso.” The buzzing synths, tight snare hits and metronomic head-bobbing induced by the single “1901” wouldn’t sound out of place over the loudspeakers at Old Navy — exactly where this sort of yuppie lifestyle music probably belongs, a 64-ounce soda, iPod mini and Lexus keychain in your hands. Listening to the insanely catchy “Big Sun” float by on such compressed tones and pleasantly overdubbed vocals is akin to watching a flashy juggler or fire-eater. It’s so impressive you don’t consider how ridiculous and disposable it is.
But melody and repeat-play value are paramount in pop music, and in that respect “Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix” succeeds masterfully. Just don’t pretend it’s anything other than the age-old act of dress-up, rather than some breathless conjuring that demands awe and respect. — John Wenzel
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Ricardo Baca is the founder and co-editor of and an award-winning critic and journalist at The Denver Post. He is also the executive director of the , Colorado’s premier festival of local music. Follow his whimsies at , his live music habit at and his iTunes addictions at .
John Wenzel is the co-editor of Reverb and an arts and entertainment writer for The Denver Post. He recently published the book and edits the blog.
