Friction Drum

I was listening to samba music this week and I wanted to learn about the instrument that makes a high-pitched squeak characteristic of the musical style.

It’s called a cuíca (“kweeca”). It’s a Brazilian “friction drum”. The sound is made by changing the tension of the drum skin. The drum has a stick through the centre of the skin, which the percussionist moves with a wet/resined cloth/fingers.

The sound is such a part of samba that some bands without a cuíca player will mimic the drum vocally. Before doing any research I wondered if it was a kind of rattle or whistle. The noise sometimes reminds me of cheering or laughing. In fact, the cuíca is also called a laughing gourd, and the word is Portuguese for a possum, which makes a high-pitched sound. The drum is thought to have originated in Africa. Historically, friction drums have also been played in Asia, and found in Europe in the 16th century.

Here are 5 songs I like featuring the cuíca.

1) The cuíca immediately makes me think of ’60s lounge music - it’s no wonder since Quincy Jones’ famous song Soul Bossa Nova is from 1962. It was also on the Austin Powers soundtrack.

2) Teresa Cristina’s cover of Meu Mundo é Hoje (Eu Sou Assim)
Cristina is a very popular samba singer in Rio.

3) Pascal Parisot’s Je reste au lit
Parisot combines Latin rhythms, lounge style and ironic lyrics. The song sounds sweet and mellow, but is about the narrator’s feelings of futility. I played this for my Dad and at first he thought the cuíca was a dog barking.

4) Seu Jorge’s Convite para vida from the City of God soundtrack.
Jorge is a musician well-known in North America, especially for the soundtrack of The Life Aquatic, which I still have yet to see!

5) Gruff Rhys’ Gyrru Gyrru Gyrru
A departure from the traditional style of music with the cuíca. Rhys is frontman of the Welsh psychedelic rock band Super Furry Animals.
 

Hedwig and the Angry Inch

*Spoiler alert: If you haven’t seen the movie, I recommend watching it before reading this post. I refer to some major themes/plot points.

Around this time last year I went to see a live performance of Hedwig and the Angry Inch at the Drake Underground. The production took the form of a rock show with the lead singer telling her life story between songs. Seth Drabinsky dazzled as Hedwig.

The musical tells the fictional story of a musician who grew up in East Berlin. As a young adult, then called Hansel, he falls in love with an American G.I. who wants to marry him, but only if he has sex reassignment surgery.

Drabinsky’s portrayal was involving and adept. Trained in opera, his voice was extremely powerful. Most of the songs are glam rock, and his falsetto spanned graceful to aggressive. In this live version Drabinsky played many of the supporting characters with his voice. I did a double take when Hedwig was describing meeting the G.I. and her voice suddenly became his voice – low, macho and American.

There’s an intriguing myth told by Hedwig’s mother: The Origin of Love. The idea is that in the beginning people had two heads, four sets of limbs and looked like two people back to back. The gods became scared of the people’s strength, so they split them in half, and the reason we fall in love is we’re looking for that other half.

In the movie that section is told with animation in a very minimalist style. The two parts of a person look like a circle torn in half. When the halves join it looks like a face. I want to get a tattoo of that, like Hedwig in the movie. My friend pointed out to me that it’s easy to think that the meaning of that song is that love completes us. On closer examination, though, the message is of self-love.

The role of Hedwig is designed to be played by an actor who also plays her nemesis and ex, Tommy Gnosis. At the end of the musical, Seth Drabinsky sang in Tommy’s style and he could literally have been the singer of a band like Blink-182. The finale is the lovely ballad Midnight Radio. I take it to be about inner reconciliation. The core idea: “Know that you’re whole.”

New Soul

A friend introduced me to new soul a few years ago. At the time the genre seems to have had a number of names: new soul, nu soul, neo soul, retro soul and soul revival. The names have virtually disappeared, but the music remains exceptional.

It’s the kind of music that brings you up when you’re down. The new soul artists were committed to an old-style sound, though modern elements often came through in lyrics. The most popular example was Amy Winehouse. Many of her songs sounded completely upbeat and danceable, though the content was considerably more serious.

Here are 5 of my favourite musicians of the genre.

Sharon Jones

Extremely talented and incredibly energetic in concert. Sharon Jones has years of experience, but didn’t gain recognition until middle age. She had a day job as corrections officer/armored guard for many years. Her band the Dap-Kings was recruited for backing on Amy Winehouse’s Back to Black.
 
Lee Fields

Has extensive musical experience and collaborated with Sharon Jones. Unfortunately, I haven’t found much background info on him.

Nicole Willis

Talented vocalist who has collaborated with funk legend Curtis Mayfield and now lives in Helsinki.

Eli “Paperboy” Reed

Singer from Boston with wild vocal stylings reminiscent of James Brown and Scream’ Jay Hawkins. I saw him do a fantastic show at the Horseshoe, around 2008.

Sam Sparro

Australian singer who rose to fame with the single Black and Gold, and enjoyed success in the early 2000s, particularly in the UK.

Jan. 21st: Just listened to the show Q on CBC Radio (podcast here). Sharon Jones was on, speaking about her  experience with cancer. She released a new album this year, after being diagnosed in the summer and going through chemo. She begins a North American tour next month!

Unusual Choirs

Recently I was part of an a cappella group. What I like about singing with people is having a part that suits my range, and making an important contribution to the whole. Tonight I went to a performance and lecture event at the Gardiner Museum. The theme was New Directions in Choral Music.

An improv group, The Element Choir, performed a piece and director Christine Duncan spoke about how she developed hand cues. She researched various systems and borrowed from sources she credits. One was particularly interesting: Phil Minton. He runs workshops with homeless people, and started The Feral Choir. To illustrate her method, Duncan led the crowd in a fun demonstration.

Choir! Choir! Choir! also did an audience sing along. Founders Nobu Adilman and Daveed Goldman taught us an arrangement of Wham’s Last Christmas in 10 minutes. Their enthusiasm came across clearly. Daveed taught the parts and played accompaniment on guitar. Once all three sections could carry their parts Nobu soloed on top. The lightness of the material and the size of the group meant that I didn’t feel intimidated. It sounded great. It felt even better. I think there’s something about singing that loosens something personal from deep inside.

Spiritual Plus Secular

Tonight I was thinking about symbols of reassurance in rock music. Artists I really like have used religious concepts in a more general context to make powerful songs about comfort in the face of adversity. I can relate to the emotion, the imagery and the tone of these pieces. This may be part 1 of a few posts.

Here are some tracks that come to mind from my collection.

It Ain't Easy - Bowie cover. 1971.
Bowie comes to mind first for me. Slow, reminiscent of blues or spiritual songs with a dose of sultry.
"It ain't easy to get to heaven when you're going down."

Everlasting Light - The Black Keys. 2010.
There's a definite retro feel to the whole album. This is the traditional language the faithful use to speak about God. It could be taken literally. The speaker could also be interpreted as another person, one who is loyal and supportive. The everlasting light could be seen more broadly as any aspect of a person's life that imparts security and hope.

Come On Up to the House - Tom Waits. 1999.
Waits makes frequent use of images with religious connotations. I find he often reframes them, but lets them keep some of their purity. This is the last song on the album, which seems absolutely deliberate. I feel it's about the end of life, finding belonging, rest and peace.

Paul James

Paul James is a real showman. He can play guitar behind his head and spin around on one foot. I was thrilled when I found out he’d be playing at a festival called Toast to Autumn in my neighbourhood.

As a kid I was really into his album Almost Crazy. I loved the lively, up-tempo songs like the title track. I felt the charge of defiance in his voice on Lazy Crazy Blues. “It’s when you don’t want to work, and you don’t want to go to school.” The distant notion of work didn’t seem like drudgery and school was something I looked forward to, but I was on board with the story. I had only a vague idea what kind of place Smoke a Joint Out Back was about and the double meaning was completely over my head. None of that stopped me from dancing to Paul’s blues and rockabilly.

In my twenties I was seeing a bartender at the Cadillac Lounge. One night Paul James did a gig there. The highlight for me was when he played slide guitar with a beer bottle. If I could do that my life would be complete.

James has decades of experience and has played with big names like Bob Dylan and Bo Diddley, and yet he does a lot of free shows. Last year’s autumn festival was one of them. He was as enthusiastic as ever. He kept us engaged with his originals and covers like Chuck Berry’s Around and Around. “Rose out of my seat. I just had to dance. Started moving my feet and clapping my hands!”

Join Paul James for his birthday bash this Saturday at the Opera House. Details: pauljamesband.com

African Harp & Trumpet

The first time I listened to Ablaye Cissoko and Volker Goetze’s album Sira I didn’t discern which instruments I heard. I simply enjoyed the flowing, expansive melodies.

Cissoko plays an African harp called a kora, which he makes by hand. His phrases are intricate and he accompanies them with a gentle falsetto. Goetze plays trumpet with superb use of a mute. The two weave a sound which is serene, spacious and bright.

I saw the duo perform last fall at the Royal cinema. I’d become very familiar with Cissoko’s singing voice on Sira, so it was a surprise to hear that he has such a deep speaking voice. He shared many stories with the audience, all in French. It fell to Goetze to translate. It was instantly obvious that he was an introvert, uneasy with having to convey everything on the spot. Cissoko teased him regularly, saying Goetze knew the stories and could tell them himself instead of waiting for Cissoko, then struggling to come up with the explanation. There was also mutual affection between them. This was especially clear as Cissoko extended his had toward Goetze and credited him after every song.

Cissoko told us how he wrote Haïti while in L.A. He and Goetze were performing at a gala event and it struck Cissoko that there was so much opulence where they were, while in Haïti there was such poverty and danger. Cissoko comes from a long line of storytellers, musicians and societal leaders. The concert coincided with the release of the documentary Griot.  Featuring Cissoko, produced and directed by Goetze, the film is about music, history and human rights.

Strange Parade

He sways and weaves while he plays, makes the stage his dance floor. He jumps four feet in the air; knees tucked tight, his instrument aloft. His shirt is drenched from exertion. He sheds it, revealing a tattooed torso. Two sound holes just like on his violin. Dr. Draw.

The club is dark, the crowd riveted. His motifs soar over driving beats. The band could’ve been teleported from a rock show. Sweet sounds fluidly become stormy, his bow slicing furiously, strands hang from it. With a few more strokes he tips us into another landscape, sultry and changeable.

From the ceiling bolts of cloth are draped. Two acrobats climb them, dangle from them, all without harnesses. Look one way and you miss something else. A melody strikes me as familiar. I realize it’s Donna Summer’s I Feel Love shaped into something partly classical. Sumptuous, rhythmic and inciting movement.

I dance. Endorphins course through me and I have an odd sense of being more than a spectator. Eugene’s performance ends and we scatter onto the street. It’s late, but how will I sleep while I’m still marvelling at the spectacle we’ve seen? I feel I’ve just been to the circus.

-Dr. Draw & the Strange Parade at the Mod Club, Sept. 2013.

"Living Room" Concert at an Instrument Shop

One of my favourite concerts in 2013 was by Chloe Charles. I first heard Charles last year. She was opening for Dr. Draw at the Mod Club. She was spellbinding and unique. My friend and I felt we had to see her again.

Lucky for us, she was playing the following week at Musideum. It’s an intimate space, a rare instruments shop which doubles as a jazz venue. While the setting would’ve been a good fit for quiet chamber music, the sound that night was sweeping and dramatic. Charles’ band included a guitarist, bassist, drummer, violinist and pianist. Charles and the violinists’ harmonies were eerie and beautiful.

It was also a special show because each person was asked to write down feedback after each song. Some songs had never been played in front of an audience before. There is a lot variety in Charles’ songwriting, and the pieces form a unified whole. Her voice is melodious and vibrant; her songs are by turns intense, dreamlike and lively. Most of all, her tunes and presence are memorable.

Hear her at chloecharles.com and buy albums on iTunes. She is currently touring Europe.

 

Drawing at Musideum by J.Jeanes.

Happy Birthday, Bowie!

Photo: moonagewolf, Mug: davidbowie.com/Livenation Merch

Last Wednesday, January 8^th was David Bowie’s birthday. He shares his birthday with another legend: Elvis.

Bowie had the biggest impact on me of anyone besides those I know personally.

Of course I’d heard Bowie as a kid, seen his picture, even by chance watched part of a scathing interview with Angela Bowie. But the moment his work really resonated was when I was in high school, after my stepfather introduced me to his classics: Ziggy Stardust and Aladdin Sane. I was hooked. Next were Pin Ups, Young Americans and David Live. Those were all on tapes copied from vinyl. They were mainstays in my Walkman as I commuted to school.

What was it about Bowie? “Part of the reason we remember songs from our teenage years is because those years were times of self-discovery, and as a consequence, they were emotionally charged; in general, we tend to remember things that have an emotional component,” says Daniel J. Levitin in This Is Your Brain on Music. Certainly there was Bowie’s androgyny. His intellect. Maybe it was his free association. Sensuality and poetry seemed to coexist in a way I hadn’t heard before.

Around that time Bowie released his Outside album. He was interviewed by Now magazine for his tour and show at the “Sky Dome”. Nine Inch Nails was the opener. Bowie’s perspective so impressed me that I asked for the album for Christmas. A very dark piece, I have to say it scared me. It took some time before I was ready for it. The album has some gorgeous, atmospheric tracks, like The Motel, which is one of my favourite Bowie songs.

Soon I was reading anything I could about him, watching his movies and talk show appearances. I was dyeing my hair like the Thin White Duke and getting contact lenses so I could have one blue and one dark eye. As a teen I can remember dropping $200 at once on his discography at Sam the Record Man. I’ve never had that kind of disposable income again.

Bowie’s staying power and continued relevance is amazing. Last year his 24^th studio album came out to critical acclaim. The video for The Stars Are Out Tonight plays with the public’s obsession with celebrity and features personalities as Bowie, including Tilda Swinton. In 2013, a collection of his memorabilia, costumes and rare footage were exhibited at London’s V&A and the AGO.

Despite all his personas, there’s a relatability in his music. In the ‘70s he chanted, “Give me your hands,” and in the audience we still feel a kind of connection to him. Onstage he talks to specific people in the crowd. He shares personal stories. He plays long shows, is completely in the zone and consistently has a huge grin. Here’s a person who clearly loves what he does.

Happy birthday, Bowie! And thank you.

Acoustic Soul

Dan McLean Jr. is an acoustic soul singer. He has a powerful voice and writes songs packed with emotion and subtleties. As he playfully puts it, "I don't write songs about somebody dancing with my girl at the sock hop. I write songs about adult relationships - more like what happens after a marriage of 10 years breaks up." His covers shine just as brightly as his originals.

Last week on one of the coldest nights this winter, when it was -39 outside, Dan was in full form at a tiny bar in Parkdale. His versions of "She's Gone", "I'm Gonna Make You Love Me" and "Kiss On My List" captivated.

McLean is also a wealth of information on music. He's particularly passionate about Philly soul. Between sets it was a pleasure to sit with him at the bar as he shared history of how Motown and Memphis soul gave way to Philly soul, which in turn progressed to disco and smooth jazz. Dan completely engages his audience, both in performance and conversation.

Dan McLean is a regular performer at Harlem Restaurant and host of web TV series "Rhyme & Reason" at danmcleanjr.com. Catch him every Monday in January at Not My Dog in Toronto.

Photo credit: https://www.facebook.com/DanMcLeanJrMusic