CD Reviews: November ’09 | The Beachside Resident

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Mark Knopfler
Get Lucky
Warner Bros.; 2009

If ever there were an under-the-radar musician, it would have to be Mark Knopfler. Sure, there are plenty of other deserving artists who slog away in unfair obscurity, but few have the former Dire Straits frontman’s professional cachet; even fewer have produced as much consistently pleasing material. Since he set out on his own in 1995, Knopfler has enjoyed almost unanimous critical praise for inimitable songwriting that favors subtle insinuation over eager showmanship. Guitar nerds revere him for his fluent, sinuous fretwork; others admire his pithy characterizations and insightful vignettes. From Dire Straits and numerous solo projects to soundtracks, supporting slots and production credits, Knopfler seems to thrive best in the shadows. And though he’s hardly unknown, his unique songs always merit wider exposure and deeper appreciation. The gorgeous Get Lucky, Knopfler’s sixth proper solo album, distills all of his impressive talents into a kind of mellow rumination on his entire career. Knopfler’s voice — somewhere between a drowsy Johnny Cash and Dylan with clear sinuses — carries as much weight as his trademark fingerpicking on tracks like the loping “Cleaning My Gun” and the Celtic-tinged “So Far From The Clyde.” Ultimately, Get Lucky suggests that under the radar is a beautiful place to be. — W. Tyler

Dan Auerbach
Keep It Hid
Nonesuch; 2009

Usually when you think about “half” of something, you think about that something being “half as good.” One half of The Black Keys, Dan Auerbach, is an exception. Marked by a soulful voice and highly skilled Delta-blues guitar work, Auerbach’s vacation from his other half, Patrick Carney, is hardly a substitution. From the Southern “Trouble Weighs a Ton” to the spooky, groovy “I Want Some More,” Auerbach gives us the shrimp n’ grits business without so much as a knowing flinch. Playing most of the instruments himself, he’s still made room for friends, including Jessica Lea Mayfield, his uncle, James Quine, and his father, who wrote “Whispered Words.” “Keep It Hid” tilts somewhere between seduction and bashful sentiment, and the adult-lullaby “When The Night Comes” reminds us of the lengths we’ll go to find a hand to hold as we fall asleep. “Goin’ Home” is a goodbye waltz that closes the album in perfect pitch: “Forget about the things you want and be thankful for all you got.” Auerbach’s first solo project proves he’s a man who sings with the conviction of someone who doesn’t regret being half of anything — and despite the rumors, The Black Keys are anything but over. — V. Bormann

Janelle Monáe
Metropolis: The Chase Suite
Atlantic; 2008

Metropolis, envisioned as a multi-part concept album, tells the story of Cindi Mayweather, an “Alpha Platnium 9000 Android” who’s fallen in love with a human and must flee her planet. Monáe uses Cindi as a way to both explore her imagined Shangri-La and exorcise her demons, singing her way through themes like drug addiction, STDs and of course, mothers. Metropolis, based on the 1927 silent film of the same name, is a vaudevillian adventure, but it’s also a complicated and deep sonic project. In a nice pairing with the album’s unabashed fantasy element, Monáe uses the last two tracks (as herself) to send a working-class message to the president and cover the classic song “Smile” — proof enough that within the span a mere seven songs, she can take us to an unsettling planet and then bring us gently back down to a hopeful Earth. Like a harmonic bird from another time with a voice like a harp, Monáe uses her imagination to explore both the human condition and social action. No matter which world you prefer, this close friend of Outkast’s Big Boi will have you seeing stars. — V. Bormann

Sly & the Family Stone
There’s a Riot Goin’ On
Sony; 1971

By the time of Riot’s release, Sly Stone’s steady retreat inward was becoming increasingly apparent to those around him, as his dealings with the outside world became marked by disinterested cynicism. The same man who had given inspiration to so many with the positive message of his hit singles (“Stand,” “Everyday People,” “I Want To Take You Higher”) seemed to be methodically destroying the reputation he had worked so hard to build. The concerts that were once like a funkified electric church would start hours late, if at all, inspiring vilification and even violence in his steadily shrinking audience. After two long years between albums, Sly was back — but with a whole new kind of soul. Riot’s charting singles “Family Affair” and “Runnin’ Away” were only moderately representative of the density and darkness that lurked in the record’s grooves; others hint at the dissolution of a band that had spent the five previous years drawing up the blueprint for modern funk and soul music. Despite, or perhaps because of, all of these seemingly disastrous elements, Riot is a masterpiece. The introspective, yet political lyrics, the hard and dirty funk grooves, the inspirational, yet depressing songs — all of these elements would come to influence not only peers like Marvin Gaye and James Brown, but two generations of rappers and funkateers who paid homage to Sly’s vision by making his samples and beats an essential backbone of their own innovations. Sly’s riot is still goin’ on. — D. Rosen