Bentley’s Bandstand: My Ten Favorite Albums of 2009

BY BILL BENTLEY

The idea of making a list of the year’s best albums is always an exciting prospect, even if everyone’s taste is so subjective it should really be called their favorite albums of the year. There is no way to listen to even a fraction of the music released, so it’s more fun to find what hits the monkey nerve hardest, and leave it at that. Happy holidays and have fun. More to come.

Wilco, Wilco (The Album), (Nonesuch)
Great rock bands are treasures, and it’s easy to expect them to always deliver. But even better, it’s a thrill when they change courses to offer up surprises. Wilco’s latest goes back to the future in a way that makes it clear they rule the rock roost in America right now, and have grown in breathtaking ways over the past decade. Jeff Tweedy is a man of many faces. The way he initially came in the back door after leaving Uncle Tupelo–probably knowing he had knockout drops inside him–is a sneak attack for the history books. Who’s going to save us? Wilco will.

Lissa Hattersley, How I Spent My Summer Vacation, (Kimbark Road)
Without discovering an unknown gem, any given year feels a bit like a dud. In 2009 Lissa Hattersley’s album was so undercover even the hometown crowd in Austin might have missed it. That would be a real shame, because this lady will lull you into happiness and then turn around to send you spinning toward the hills. She may have started in Greezy Wheels, one of the early hippie-country hybrids, but her heart has always been out in the open air. The swing noir of her songs goes deep quick, and Hattersley’s voice is an absolute gem precisely because she doesn’t have to ask. She knows.

Geoff Muldaur, Texas Sheiks, (Tradition & Moderne)
Richard Thompson said it best: “There are three great white blues singers, and two of them are Geoff Muldaur.” The East Coast native had an early rootsy rebirth, and in the early ‘60s tapped into an inner voice that has never let him down. From the Jim Kweskin Jug band to Paul Butterfield’s Better Days with plenty of time for solo albums and duets with once-wife Maria Muldaur, this man has crossed the tightrope unscathed. His guitar playing conjures up the ghosts of heroes past without ever sounding dated, and he sings with spirit of the skies. These songs, made with the late string king Stephen Bruton, shine with such unpretentious wonder that each feels like a small miracle.

Dawes, North Hills, (ATO)
From the wilds of Laurel Canyon, the Los Angeles combo wins debut of the year award. Dawes has a timeless sound that could have come from any of the past forty years and been right at home. They capture the forlornness of Southern California nights, when the sweeping rush of the freeways is offset by the empty feel of the streets. It’s the dichotomy that drives the citizens there crazy, and explains everyone from the Doors and Mothers of Invention onward. But don’t forget, The Band’s second album was recorded in the Hollywood Hills. So there.

Beth McKee, I’m That Way, (BMR)
One of the great American songwriters is Louisiana’s Bobby Charles. His first hit was “See You Later Alligator” in the ‘50s, and he then went on to write “Walking to New Orleans,” “But I Do,” “Tennessee Blues” and a footlocker full of others. In certain circles, just mentioning his name causes the pros to smile and shake their heads. Singer Beth McKee decided to do a whole album of Charles’ chestnuts, and she should be given her own annual crawfish boil in Lafayette for those fine efforts. There is such an easeful joy in all these songs, even the sad ones, it feels like the sun, the moon and the herbs all lined up in McKee’s favor. With a kicking band and voice to call down the stars, Bobby Charles’ originals might have met their match here and shown why Bob Dylan wrote the liner notes on his last album. For real.

Staff Benda Bilili, Tres Tres Fort (Crammed Discs)
From the Congo this band gives power to those who have none, and a voice to those who are usually not heard. The musicians, many paraplegic and homeless, ride large homemade tricycles, recorded their album on a Macintosh computer plugged via extension chord into a restaurant’s electrical outlet and exist in a twilight world between notoriety and being invisible. That they are becoming heard and seen is a miracle of music we should all be thankful for. The group’s mix of African, soul and reggae influences has caused a minor sensation wherever they are heard, and at a time when the pop world is going gaga over Lady Gaga, Staff Benda Bilili gives hopes in the goodness of humankind, and that just maybe the turning tide in our world is heading in a divine direction.

John Fogerty, The Blue Ridge Rangers Rides Again, (Verve-Forecast)
It’s hard to know what to leave out, but if anyone understands the true essence of minimalism, it is John Fogerty. He built one of the greatest bands in American history on the idea that if it feels like it’s unnecessary it likely is, and has continued on that road ever since. For this tip of the Gibson he gathered a handful of songs he loves and a few friendly musicians, and then stayed out of the way of letting the magic happen. He opens things with a John Prine song and proceeds to take it all the way to the end of the line. Sometimes making things sound easy is the hardest accomplishment of all, and this would be the man to know.

James Hand, Shadow On The Ground, (Rounder)
Country music, at its best, should scare you. The way it can boil life down to the most elemental emotions reminds us why it’s often called “the white man’s blues.” To try and find that power in Nashville today feels like some kind of cruel joke. James Hand, so far off the beaten path there is no path, puts the big fear in us without even trying. His voice is convict clean, filed down to an essence that barely exists anymore. If Hank Williams were still alive, he’d have his arm around Hand while he gave him his last guitar.

Jesse Winchester, Love’s Filling Station, (Appleseed)
Partly chosen for nightmare nostalgia. Winchester’s first album still plays on a constant tape loop in the mind, haunting these days and serving as constant reminder how it felt to first find yourself, and how far off you really were forty years ago. In 1970 he defined something sweet and startling with feelings that have remained at the top of the chillbumper chart. The Southern man has never wavered from his gracious greatness, strikes the heart so deeply a call to the cardiologist is in order. Stat!

Rickie Lee Jones, Balm In Gilead, (Fantasy)
The album cover is an out of focus photograph of the artist as ghost, and in some ways that’s the role this inspired singer has been playing these past 30 years. She comes into the world, makes a big mess of our emotions and disappears for different stretches of time. Only to do it again and again. What is now obvious is that she is a survivor with the kind of vision that doesn’t really exist anymore. There is music here that will make it hard to breath because of its new beauty, and some that seems like you’ve been listening to it all your life. There are few alive who can do this, and we should honor this woman who can. Rickie Lee Jones has paid for our sins, and by sharing her music with us now she once again serves up salvation with a tear and a smile. No other.

Song of the Year: The Avett Brothers, “I and Love and You” (American)
A prayer worth hearing forever. Need we say more?

Bill Bentley is a writer, musician, publicist, record producer and A&R director. He once played drums with Lightnin’ Hopkins. For more reviews and music news, go to www.sonicboomers.com

Kenny Aronoff: The Drummer’s Drummer plays the Bowl

BY BILL BENTLEY

At this stage of his storied career, it would be easier to list the people Kenny Aronoff hasn’t performed with. The Massachusetts native (and North Hollywood resident) received his first national attention in John Mellencamp’s band during the early ’80s, and was an integral part of that group for the next 17 years. He also developed into an in-demand studio drummer during that time, and worked with Rod Stewart, Avril Lavigne, Puddle of Mudd, Melissa Etheridge and John Fogerty, among dozens. Recently Kenny Aronoff joined Fogerty’s band, who begins a three-night stand on July 2nd at the Hollywood Bowl, appearing with the Los Angeles Symphony. The man is in a party of one now for drummers who can rise to any musical challenge.

Q: What is the most surprising situation you’ve gotten yourself into?

A: The heaviest thing is to first recognize you’re in a tough situation. You better see it before anyone else notices so you can get yourself out of it. Everything can be going along fine, and then all of sudden it’s like, “May day, May day…this is going to get nasty.” It’s a matter of realizing something needs to change, and fast. You have to be a problem solver. I’m a fighter, a little guy who comes up ready to go in there and take care of things.

Q: Does that come from your childhood?

A: Oh yeah. I was a competitive athlete, a runner and all kinds of things. My twin brother is a psychiatrist. Our parents now are like, “We wanted you to be successful, but not workaholics.” We’re both over the top. But you know what, I’m not the most talented guy in the world but I can stay in the ballgame, and I don’t mind hard work. I put in the time. I still do. I’m hungry.

Q: What first attracted you to the drums?

A: I was born with a lot of energy. I’m wired hyper. I was a jock. I didn’t find out until later that I’m not ADD; not at all. I got tested. But my brain is flying all over the place-too fast. The drums settle me down. Then when I was young I saw a marching band, maybe I was eight, ten years old, around second grade. I was riding on my little bike in the Western Massachusetts town where I grew up, and saw the drummer. And being in sports, I gravitated toward the physical instrument: drums. It had action. So when you put me on a set of drums, even when I didn’t know how to play, I always had that spirit. Then I went to see “Hard Day’s Night” and, bam, I was off to the races. I started a band the next day.

Q: Did you take drum lessons?

A: I had one year of formal drums lessons, but seven years of classical percussion training. I worked with Leonard Bernstein. I worked with Aaron Copland, the Boston Symphony Orchestra, all kinds of classical situations.  I studied tympani five hours a day, on and on. I was totally in that world.

Q: Did it feel odd to go into rock & roll?

A: No, because that’s really where I started on drums. By the time I was 18 I had gotten into music school at U Mass, but I was behind because I didn’t play in the high school marching band or orchestra. I didn’t have time. I was a jock. I was studying with the percussionist with the Boston Symphony Orchestra my last year.

Q: What was the first drum set you bought?

A: Ludwig. I bought it piece by piece and I still have every one of them. It was black lacquer and I stripped the wood and put on a new finish.

Q: Were your parents supportive?

A: Very. Every room in our house had some instrument. They totally supported me. But I was behind in playing. The fact I had a good career in rock & roll is from hard work. I have the energy and the spirit for rock & roll, but I wasn’t taking drum lessons. It wasn’t until I was 23 and got out of college and taking lessons and practicing 8 hours a day that I realized that’s where I really wanted to go all along. When I got offered a job in a classical orchestra and said no, that was the moment where I went, “Oh my God.”

Q: How did you start playing rock & roll professionally after college?

A: Some of my friends worked on me and worked on me and got me to come to Bloomington, Indiana. We had a band there and had the whole thing: lights, sound, stage, everything. I was living in the band house on the porch, even in the winter. It had windows but it was freezing cold. We had one of the worst snows in years, and it went over my entire room. I was buried in snow. At 27 I was thinking of moving to New York. Then before that I was going to L.A. to audition for Lou Rawls, of all people, but I was nervous and stayed in Bloomington a little longer. But this girl I met said Johnny Cougar had just fired his drummer the night before and needed one. His music was different from what I was doing. We were playing more fusion and more tripped out stuff. The most normal was Steely Dan. I called Johnny’s guitar player and he said that weren’t going to audition for two weeks. So I learned all his songs. My playing was more-is-more. I had to learn less-is-more. I got the job and everything started from that.

For more on Kenny Aronoff, go to www.kennyaronoff.com.   For Hollywood Bowl tickets to see Kenny Aronoff with John Fogerty  July 2-4, go to www.hollywoodbowl.com

Bill Bentley is a writer, musician, publicist, record producer and A&R director. He once played drums with Lightnin’ Hopkins. For more reviews and music news, go to www.sonicboomers.com