Clarence Fountain, a youthful 64, has been a powerful force in the gospel world for better than half a century. He started singing with friends from Alabama's Talladega Institute for the Deaf and Blind in 1937, made his recording debut with them (as the Blind Boys) 11 years later and, it's been said, sang during shows with such passion that he caused audience members to swoon with the Lord's spirit. In the late 1980s the secular world finally caught on to the group's spirited fervor when they starred with actor Morgan Freeman in the Broadway musical "The Gospel at Colonus," and now the trendy House of Blues nightclub chain, which has ventured into radio and TV, has rediscovered Fountain and selected him and his brethren as the second release on their newly formed recording label.
It was a fine choice. "I Brought Him with Me," which Fountain & Co. recorded over a three-night stint in West Hollywood last January, is touted as their first-ever live recording, and its gritty, revival-style, I-dare-you-not-to-get-up-and-move enthusiasm captures Fountain in peak form. His gravelly baritone is at its best when he goes all out as on such classics as "Rain" and "Do Lord," which features a typically impassioned appearance by blues singer Koko Taylor. And backup singers George Scott (the other original Blind Boy still in the lineup) and Jimmy Carter turn Pete Seeger's campfire sing-along, "If I Had a Hammer," into a scorching pledge of redemption. Blues statesman Solomon Burke also checks in at the close. Though this is not the Fountain of youth, all in all, it rates an A-men. (House of Blues Music Company)
The Furry Four
Finally after all these years we have an answer to one of the great riddles of the '60s, the resolution to the mystery at the center of the Magical Mystery Tour: the "Walrus" wasn't John or Paul; he was Elmer Fudd. In this droll pop parody, a quartet of cartoon cutups mimics the Beatles. The Looney Tunes Liverpudlians are Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Elmer and Taz (as, loosely, Paul, John, George and Ringo).
For the most part, the collection is made up of early-era Lennon-McCartney tunes, with Bugs singing the lead and Daffy providing juicy, tremolo-rich harmonies. But the solo and guest turns are the most fun, for instance Elmer's yearning rendition of "The Fool on the Hill." Yosemite Sam drops by for a blustering version of "Help!" that makes the title refrain sound a lot more like a command than an entreaty.
The concept is funnier than the execution. In large part, that's because of all the weak gags and corny dialogue shoehorned in between the actual lyrics. Even though this album turned out like bad karaoke, it introduces an idea with intriguing possibilities. I can't wait for Porky Does Pearl Jam or Foghorn Leghorn Interprets the Naughty by Nature Songbook. (Kid Rhino)
The Mavericks
With their third album, these young country-rockers bid to strengthen their status as the new class act of mainstream country. The Mavericks, who have managed so far to avoid sacrificing integrity for sales, go for a classic, retro sound; on Music for All Occasions they try harder than ever to imbue each song with an instant patina of age. Everything is lit cool neon blue; what with the tinkly piano, weepy pedal-steel guitar and sedate oohs and doowahs in the background, we might almost be in Nashville, circa 1963.
The title, unfortunately, is a misnomer—almost half the songs jog along at a medium-tempo shuffle. Such single-mindedness might give the proceedings a classic honky-tonk feel; it also induces tedium long before the record's over. Only two rockers break the sameness of mood: "Here Comes the Rain," whose jangly 12-string guitars evoke those great mid-'60s progenitors of 12-string jangle the Searchers, and "All You Ever Do Is Bring Me Down," which unleashes the Tex-Mex accordionist Flaco Jimenez. The closer, "Something Stupid" (yes, that one) is a downright mistake—a campy joke that falls flat. The song was never anything but a dog.
Lead singer Raul Malo's tenor is one of the wonders of modern country, a swooping, goose-bumps-inducing voice, so it's indeed a shame he and his bandmates didn't come up with more for him to wrap those silver tonsils around. Live, the Mavericks never fail to rock out. One wishes they'd have tapped a little more of that abandon on this album. (MCA)
Kathleen Battle
Even a world-class operatic soprano like Kathleen Battle needs an occasional challenge. In this case, she has tried for a vocal stretch by hooking up with jazz players, including saxophonist Grover Washington Jr. and pianist Cyrus Chestnut, on an album of mostly nonclassical tunes. Together, Battle and her band bring an appropriate sense of childlike wonder to the lullaby "The Little Horses," while the normally formal singer sounds surprisingly spirited on "Cancion De Cuna (Spanish Cradle Song)" and seductive on "Hush (Somebody's Calling My Name)" and "Ninghe, Ninghe."
Elsewhere, though, Battle, with her tendency toward ethereal lawlessness, misses the point. Her grand opera style—the way she strings words together without pausing between them, and her technique of singing as if she's floating on air—produces a theatrical dramatic effect that may be well suited to Puccini arias but seems somewhat disconcerting in the free-form worlds of jazz, gospel and Latin pop, where earthiness, elasticity and spontaneity are essential. When Battle hooks up with, say, the bluesy, broken-down spiritual "Steal Away," she just sounds like a dilettantish show-off who's singing into a mirror backstage at the Met. (Sony Classical)
- Contributors:
- Todd Gold,
- David Hiltbrand,
- Tony Scherman,
- Jeremy Helligar.
Saved by the Bell Reunion
The hookups, the meltdowns, the memoires
The case reveals what was really going on what they think of each other now!
