The Hives
The Black and White Album
(A&M/Octone)
The Hives are the first name in Swedish postmodern two-guitar rock bands for good reason. Their guitar lines are often deceptively intricate, and the keyboards and new ambition on The Black and White Album add a level of pop disassociation to their repertoire. Following up on their recent collaboration with Timbaland, the Hives try out a winking take on Prince-style funk on “T.H.E.H.I.V.E.S.” and Devo disco on “Giddy Up.” The only problem is that each song works much better as a single than as part of an album. The three-to-four minute-long prankish bursts of energy are exhausting all in a row.
—Adam Bulger
*
Nathaniel Mayer
(I Want) Love and Affection (Not the House of Correction)
(Vampi Soul)
It’s ironic that Detroit’s most famous musical export is the polished sound of Motown (apologies to the White Stripes and Eminem). In truth, the Motor City has cranked out more raw acts—think MC5 and John Lee Hooker. The wild doo-wop/soul of Nathaniel Mayer fits into that tradition. Most of the 23 tracks on this collection were recorded between 1961 and 1966. Mayer could shout in the manner of Little Richard, Hank Ballard and James Brown. This is idiosyncratic music for fans of obscure, imperfect and rowdy soul.
—John Adamian
*
Paul Whiteman & His Orchestra
If I Had a Talking Picture of You
(Vocalion)
In the pre-swing years Paul Whiteman was dubbed “King of Jazz.” These days Whiteman is often cited as an example of how the racist past enriched white artists appropriating black music whilst more talented black musicians struggled. It’s unfair to pin that on Whiteman. As this beautifully remastered collection shows, Whiteman never really was a jazz man. His light classical-touch arrangements were perfect for crooners such as Austin Young, Jack Fulton, Al Rinker and Bing Crosby. Fans will find rare early Crosby recordings on this collection as well as hits. Don’t expect gritty, raw, and syncopated; Whiteman opted for the smooth and mannered path. Toss the “King of Jazz” label and rediscover a past master in his own niche.
—Rob Weir
*
Erik Friedlander
Block Ice and Propane
(Skipstone)
It’s in the genes, I guess. Erik Friedlander is the son of world-famous photographer Lee (he of the endlessly amazing self-portraits). If you have room at all in your music collection for a record of solo cello improvisations (it’s either yes or no), then you’ll want to get this one, on which Friedlander bows, strums and plucks his cello, coaxing sounds that could pass for fiddle, guitar, oud or upright bass. Don’t let the word “improv” scare you—this isn’t free jazz — these explorations are melodic, cinematic (they were inspired by childhood cross-country trips) and almost formal.
—John Adamian
