Instead of making a selection from the complete works of Dylan or the Stones, as would seem on the face of it to make sense, these CDs (Telarc) are based on two particular albums: the Stones’s Exile on Main Street and Dylan’s Blonde on Blonde.
If The Rolling Stones are the King James Bible of rock’n’roll, then Exile on Main Street is the Book of Kings, I and II. Apart from the obvious covers of songs that were already bluesy, there are some interesting departures. An example would be Jeff Lang’s high-pitched and loosely formed Sweet Virginia; another is Deborah Coleman’s cover of what is practically Keith Richard’s manifesto, Happy. Most striking, though, is Otis Taylor’s version of Sweet Black Angel. Here is a black bluesman with a social conscience (he has written about slavery, for instance) taking a song that in its original form could easily be construed as racist, and giving it a makeover.
Coleman, for one, reappears on the Dylan CD, where she is placed alongside the likes of Duke Robillard and Joe Louis Walker. They all manage to put a new spin on these classics, though for my money the best is the least bluesy — New Orleans-based Swede Anders Osborne’s Visions of Johanna. Bob, I think, would be thrilled, as I’m sure the Stones would too. Now can we have the versions, please?
New York City: The Peter Malick Group featuring Norah Jones (David Gresham)
Bluesman Peter Malick chose a new direction with his songwriting and felt he had to look for someone else to sing his songs. He was lucky enough to find Norah Jones before she hit the big time, and he is absolutely right when he commends her for immersing herself in his music. From New York City’s gentle, startlingly beautiful jazzy blues and the subtle instrumentation of Strange Transmissions to the grittier guitar grinding of Deceptively Yours (a tragic love story — is there any other in the world of blues?), it’s smooth and intimate (and unfortunately just 30 minutes long). Even Bob Dylan’s Heart of Mine gets a wistful treatment. Well-crafted songs performed with feeling. — Riaan Wolmarans
Chill: Brazil 2: Various (Gallo)
On the second disk of the double album Chill: Brazil 2, João Gilberto does an unremarkable job of the old Gershwin standard S’Wonderful. By the time he gets to the second phrase, “s’marvellous that you should care for me”, with his flat nonchalance, the song is basically asleep. Chill: Brazil 2 is so chilled that it’s paralyzing. The bossa queen known simply as Joyce has collected 38 calming pieces of tropicana, kicking off with her own heralding Deromô — a sort call for a tribal council. As with so many Brazilian compilations the whole thing feels a bit routine: Bebel Gilberto does So Nice, Tom Jobin does She’s a Carioca, and so forth. To make it all worthwhile, though, there’s Milton Nascimento with two falsettos. Belez e Canção hails from his famous collaboration with children and Ana Maria comes from his better-known collaboration with Wayne Shorter. Like the first volume there’s a smattering of digital, but the whole is still stuck in the lounge period. Good soundtrack for the coming languid summer days; a pina colada on a lilo. — Matthew Krouse