Brandon Can't Dance
"Graveyard of Good Times"
Lucky Number ((ASTERISK)(ASTERISK)(ASTERISK))
Brandon Can't Dance is the nom de indie rock of Philadelphia songwriter Brandon Ayres. In the manner of rising DIY stars like Car Seat Headrest and Alex G (with whom he has toured), Ayres has followed several self-releases on his Bandcamp page over a number of years with this official coming-out party on the Lucky Number label.
It's a bit of a jumble, with Ayres sometimes sounding like a collection of influences: vocals that alternately recall Elliott Smith, Wayne Coyne, and Ira Kaplan of Yo La Tengo, and songs that mix synthy dance-floor moves ("Smoke & Drive Around"), 1980s Europop ("Pop Queen of the Teen Scene") and tongue-in-cheek self-mockery ("So Deep, So Tortured, So Freak"). But the catchy tunes keep coming over the course of a 16-track album on which Ayres is too intent on enjoying himself to worry about the identity crisis he'll surely outgrow.
_ Dan DeLuca
The Doors
"London Fog 1966"
Rhino ((ASTERISK)(ASTERISK)(ASTERISK){)
Before The Doors celebrate a golden anniversary in March with a three-LP take on their still-provocative debut ("The Doors: 50th Anniversary Deluxe Edition"), the never- before-released origin-story tapes of their time as a house band at "fantastic L.A.'s" London Fog _ a Sunset Strip dive bar _ finally arrive. Good.
Though The Doors presented shamanic monotone poet Jim Morrison, cabaret organist Ray Manzarek, and company as fully formed psychedelic sensualists whose snaky sound reflected a darker California than the usual sunshine dream of the era, the quartet's roots were in raw rural blues. When drummer John Densmore and guitarist Robby Krieger find the pocket of Big Joe Williams' "Baby, Please Don't Go," they burrow deep. When Morrison reaches into his personal primordial ooze to appropriate Muddy Waters' hurt for "I'm Your Hoochie Coochie Man," you hear how The Doors' next steps were logical progressions of a blue-black start.
Minus any studio cleansing, these tunes are crackling gut-punch jazz-psychedelia shot through with Morrison's meaty croon. Here's hoping Rhino finds more tapes.
_ A.D. Amorosi
Various Artists
"Hidden Figures: The Album"
Columbia ((ASTERISK)(ASTERISK)(ASTERISK))
To tell "Hidden Figures'" rarely heard story of the brainy African-American women working at NASA at the dawn of the 1960s, director-screenwriter Theodore Melfi brought in nu-soul auteur Pharrell Williams to compose, star in, and oversee its soundtrack, co-compose its score (with Hans Zimmer), and produce the film. Rather than shrink at the responsibility, Williams rises high; not just with sweet retrofit R&B appropriate to the Motown era and the optimism of the space race, but with his usual sunny disposition pop-hop, this time tinged with strains of gentle folk and sacred song.
Though the former describes Williams' own chipper anthem "Runnin'," the gloriously emboldened "I See a Victory" encompasses the Virginia native's rich gospel inspirations. Williams offers similar raw religiosity for duet partner Lalah Hathaway on "Surrender."
Along with producing grand raging tracks for Mary J. Blige ("Mirage") and saving a hint of hard soul for himself ("Crystal Clear"), Williams _ with movie costar Janelle Monae _ tackles "Jalapeno" and brings back another side of his sound, the blistering electro-rock-funk of his onetime band N.E.R.D. More of that _ please _ would have added a star to this review.
_ A.D. Amorosi
