Jeff McCord on the month’s new releases
Edith Frost
Drag City
There’s a seeping, winterlike melancholy to the slender songs of It’s a Game (Drag City), the first album in four years from San Antonio native Edith Frost. Her music betrays a quiet sadness devoid of self-pity but full of heartache; she has hinted that upheaval in her personal life led to the long layoff. Frost, who has made her home in Chicago for years, sings with a pretty whisper of a voice, and a spare and spooky accompaniment perfectly complements the haunting melodies. Piano keys clatter as if dropped from above; guitars are amplified but muted. It’s all an organic affair, intimate, straightforward, and almost impossibly delicate. Only later do you realize how much her songs, and the mood they create, are impossible to shake.
Sly and the Family Stone
Epic/Legacy
Most, though not all, remix albums fall flat. But Different Strokes by Different Folks (Epic/Legacy) avoids this fate for two reasons: a reverence for the source material (the album is credited simply to Sly and the Family Stone) and the resilience of the songs themselves. Dallas-born Sly (Sylvester Stewart) is known for the multiracial rocked-up soul formula he pioneered in the sixties; his songs are so unforgettable that when John Legend, OutKast’s Big Boi, and Public Enemy’s Chuck D reimagine them, the originals still play subliminally. With access to the master tapes, the album’s contributors have created more than a typical mash-up. It’s a seamless integration of generations and, true to form for Sly, an inclusive one, with room even for the likes of John Mayer and Aerosmith’s Steven Tyler.
The Gourds
Eleven Thirty
Like other bands that have managed to hang around almost intact for more than a decade, The Gourds have seen a certain predictability set in. The same consistency we see in their lineup is even more apparent in their work. Often compared to the unclassifiable roots music of Doug Sahm and the Band, the Gourds’ home brew of country-rock, soul, and Tex-Mex has never been successfully labeled. Heavy Ornamentals (Eleven Thirty), their latest, launches right in; bassist Jimmy Smith sings about something called a “declineometer” over a churning, infectious rhythm. Then there’s Kevin Russell’s funky hillbilly soul bash “Shake the Chandelier,” the slinky zydecolike “Hooky Junk,” and plenty of other weird and irresistibly joyous esoterica. It’s tempting to say this Austin group keeps getting better, but the truth is that these guys were pretty damn good to begin with.
