Kourosh Yaghmaei
Back from the Brink: Pre-Revolution Psychedelic Rock from Iran: 1973-1979
(Now-Again)
The Now-Again label has made a name unearthing psychedelic gems from far-flung corners of the globe. Even by their standards, this set of psychedelia by Iranian singer/songwriter/guitarist Kourosh Yaghmaei is a revelation. Inspired by bands such as The Kinks and The Ventures, Yaghmaei melded Persian scales and instruments to his hypnotic Western-influenced music. Recorded before the Ayatollah seized power, his songs range from mournful psychedelic pop and bubbly funk to hazy soft rock and garage rave-ups. The elaborate packaging provides Yaghmaei’s story (in his own words), rare photos and album art from the ’70s. It adds an essential dimension to understanding this music, repressed even in pre-revolutionary times, and explains its place within Iranian culture. Over the course of 30 tracks, Yaghmaei’s music occasionally wanders, but his story always rivets. —Jeff Jackson
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Staind
Staind
(Flip)
It’s always been a bit of a mystery to me how this Springfield cover band exploded to the degree of global multi-platinum sales. Sometimes it seems they were just at the right place at the right time, the Phish of ’90s rock—extending grunge and rap-metal when the stars of those genres were breaking up, dying or just no longer touring. The musicianship of every band member is undeniably good, and frontman Aaron Lewis has true vocal talent, but the songwriting has been largely derivative of bands they used to cover (Tool, Alice in Chains, Rage Against the Machine). This, their seventh (but first self-titled) studio album, is mostly more of the same, crisp chugga-chug, polished slick as chrome. Still, even as their oeuvre clings devoutly to the flannel flag of 1991, the last song on Staind—the quietest—is leagues above the rest. —Tom Sturm
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Various Artists
The Lost Notebooks of Hank Williams
(Egyptian/CMF/Columbia)
It may come as something of a surprise to hear that Hank Williams left behind several notebooks of songs in various states of completion. This album, catalyzed by Bob Dylan, has few precedents, consisting as it does of contemporary performers setting those long-lost Williams lyrics to their music (only the Wilco/Billy Bragg Woody Guthrie effort Mermaid Avenue comes to mind). It sounds as if most of the performers took this on with a heavy dose of reverence (though Jack White’s weird warble, probably unintentionally, makes him sound on the verge of laughter throughout his track). The results vary, but particularly strong (and very Williams-flavored) entries come from Alan Jackson, Patty Loveless, Levon Helm, Williams’ granddaughter Holly, and, least surprisingly, Merle Haggard. The album’s high point is Norah Jones’ contribution—her voice is nothing short of luminous here. The happy, ghost-fueled arrival of these new/old songs makes for a strange and gripping listen. —James Heflin
