Review: Lullaby - Justin Roberts

It's been awhile since I've written a review here.  There are a number of reasons for that, most of them entirely unrelated to kids music.

A small reason for my recent lack of reviews, however, is trying to figure out how to write to music without resorting to the same phrases and frames of reference I've been using for so long.  It's hard to do the same thing year-in, year-out without feeling a little drained.  It takes effort to mix it up, to stretch oneself in a new direction.

Which brings us ("Finally!," you say) to Justin Roberts' new album Lullaby.  For the follow-up to his masterful album Jungle Gym, Roberts didn't choose to write another album of perfect pop and power-pop songs (for that, we'll have to wait until 2013).  Instead, kindie's finest songwriter stretched in a slightly different direction, writing an entire album of, well, if not exactly lullabies, then at least songs for downtime.

Roberts isn't a stranger to slow songs, of course -- songs like "Dad Caught Stars" and "Song for You" are among his best work -- but they typically serve as the dessert, not the main course as they are here.  So instead of songs about bullies or baseball, Roberts has crafted a late-night album of love songs.

Of course, that's what a lot of lullabies are, an attempt to soothe the troubled child (or adult) with a pleasant melody and words that offer comfort and the reassurance of a watching and loving eye.  And some of the best lullaby albums are those that repurpose "adult" song and reframe them as songs of love from parent to child.

Most songs here, stripped of their origin in a "kids music" album, would sound just as appropriate in a mellow, "adult music" album.  Only "A Wild One," which sounds like a lost Van Morrison track, might draw a few odd looks from listeners were it mixed in with other non-kids-music tracks.  The track itself is dedicated "for Maurice," who, based on the lyrics regarding a boy reading books before bedtime, is clearly Maurice Sendak.  It's as close to an anti-lullaby this lullaby album gets.

Key to the feelings of warmth engendered by the album are the musical styles and arrangements.  The Latin samba of "What the Stork Sent," the '70s singer-songwriter folk of "Nothing on You," the string quartet on "Heart of Gold" -- Roberts is using a more muted palette, but appropriately so.  Roberts wrote the arrangements for the album with help from producer Liam Davis, who again creates an overall soundscape that serves Roberts' songs well.

Because this is a lullaby album, I am obligated by the terms and conditions of being a kids music reviewer to state that the 38-minute album is targeted at kids ages 0 through 5, but like many of the best "non-traditional" lullaby albums, its practical age range is much broader.  The album packaging, featuring paintings by Alison Jay, is, like the album itself, elegantly (but not fussily) understated, but I don't think you're missing out if you choose to get the album on mp3.

When I was in college, I would joke that they handed out copies of James Taylor's Greatest Hits album and Van Morrison's Moondance at freshman orientation, so prevalent were they in dorm rooms and apartments.  I still get some warm, fuzzy feelings when I occasionally pull them out.  Lullaby gives me those same sort of feelings, and I can see it unironically being part of parents' non-kids-time listening rotation.  I expect the album to be part of many families' relaxed afternoons, evenings, and late-night feedings.  Different tempo, same great songs.  Highly recommended.

Review: Mr. Diddie Wah Diddie - Randy Kaplan

I will admit that when I first heard about Mr. Diddie Wah Diddie, the latest album from Los Angeles-based (usually) Randy Kaplan, I was somewhat skeptical.  There was so much that could have gone wrong with this project - a troubadour recasting famous blues songs into kid-friendly complaints. ("Randy-ized," it was called.) And with a centuries old blues man offering sandpapery-voiced commentary? Oh, so much could have gone wrong.

But I was willing to give it a shot because Kaplan is one of kids music's top storytellers with significant depth in musical sources of inspiration, and I figured that if anyone could make these re-done stories worth listening to, it would be he.

Luckily, I was proven correct.

OK, I can't say that I found the overarching narrative conceit -- the century-plus-year-old bluesman "Lightnin' Bodkins" introduces many of the songs and tries to find Kaplan his own "blues name" -- very interesting.  In fact, when I listened to the album, I pretty much always skipped forward to the next track.  Parents in control of the car's CD player or the iPod may do the same.

But that's only because the songs in between those interstitials are so much more interesting.  Yes, the songs are "Randy-ized," which ironically means they've tamed down, not made more inappropriate.  So "Timeout Blues," which turns the classic chorus "In the Jailhouse Now" into "In the Timeout Now," is all about a rabble-rousing kid.  Kaplan is one of the top 2 or 3 kids music storytellers working today, and like other talented storytellers, he draws from a deep well of pint-sized frustration and pique.  And what better channel for expressing frustration and pique than the blues, such as in "Ice Cream Man Rag," which bemoans an ice cream truck that never stops at the narrator's house.  There are other more straight-ahead songs whose double-entendres (if Kaplan cracked a knowing smile while encouraging kids to shake their things -- eggshakers -- in "Shake Your Thing," I couldn't hear it).  And near the end of the album, more pensive songs like "Move to Kansas City" don't really sound jokey or silly at all, with songs like "Way Down in Arkansas" and "So Different Blues" remarkably tender and sweet.

Kids ages 3 through 8 will most appreciate the album, which is available at all the usual suspects (and on Spotify as well).  I'd also highlight the understated musical accompaniment, most notably the gentle finger-picking guitar work of Kaplan (assisted by his producer Mike West).

Yes, Mr. Diddie Wah Diddie has its origins in a somewhat jokey concept, but the final result transcends that limitation.  Ignore Lightnin' Bodkins, ignore the idea that your kids might get a basic education in the forefathers of the blues (unlikely), and just enjoy with your kids a solid collection of bluesy stories from one of the best storytellers around.  Definitely recommended.

Disclosure: I was given a copy of the album for possible review.

Review: Spicy Kid - Lunch Money

One of the weird upshots of the rewiring of the relationship between musicians and cultural curators is that they're often friends.  Sure, they could have always been friends in the real-world sense of things, but with the advent of Facebook, the number of "friends" available has increased exponentially.  The cultural curator breed of "critic" is dying rapidly while "blogger" (for lack of a better term) has displaced the critic at the top of the music food tree, and while I'm not sure that critics were ever more "objective" than bloggers, my perception is that bloggers are more advocates for music they favor.  This unsurprisingly leads to more friendship-based exchanges online.  And, for someone raised in the world of the "critic" and who got into this music-writing business a decade ago in part because there seemed to be few critical distinctions when it came to kids music, it definitely feels different.

Which brings us to Spicy Kid, the fourth album from South Carolina band Lunch Money.  The band is led by singer and guitarist Molly Ledford, who writes indie-rock melodies and arrangements circia 1992 in a voice that would be called wry if she didn't find it so hard to hide her general amusement and wonder.  Ledford and the band are billing this as their album about parenthood, and that's what prompted my discursion above.

You see, Molly is a "friend" of mine on Facebook (along with 300 other kids'-music-related people).  If you're not a friend of her, you might hear a song like "S.P.E.L.L.," about the well-known parental tactic to hide information and think she's giving her kids too much credit ("When you s-p-e-l-l in front of me / You're calling attention to the words / You're putting me on alert / It's either bad news or dessert").  But Ledford has posted too many status updates indicating that her kids are sharp cookies (and spicy kids) that unless she's the James Frey of autobiographical kindie rock, these are very much inspired by real life.  And that true life dimension lends the songs additional resonance above and beyond the plain text of the lyrics.

What I find remarkable about the album is that she hits the topics of parenthood in a way that honors both the parents' and kids' perspectives.  The album's title track celebrates spicy kids without denying the feeling of frustration such kids can produce in their parents.  "Awake" is nominally about a child sneaking down the hallway to see if her mom is awake, but it also works from the perspective of a parent sneaking down the hallway to see if his son's awake.  And while there are songs that are as strong expressions of a parent's love for a child as you'll hear this year (see: "Translator," which is pitch-perfect), it's the empathy of both perspectives that helps it avoid mawkishness.  It's like the album is from everybody's favorite Aunt Molly.  Which isn't to diminish the role of her band (which now officially number four in total as the former trio has added Russell Ramirez on trombone), who give Molly's words room to breathe, except when they need to rock out.  Just that it's Aunt Molly's house.

The album will be most appropriate for kids ages 3 through 7.  You can hear the album on the band's music page.  Also, as usual, I love the design and layout of the band's album packaging, courtesy of Ledford's husband and bandmate, Jay Barry.

If Spicy Kid works in a slightly minor key, less a celebration of parenthood than a diary, that doesn't mean it's less joyful than any of its predecessors, and fans (or fans-to-be) of those predecessors should be every bit as enamored of this new album.  As for me, I'll hope that Ledford one day writes the book (non-fiction or otherwise) that chronicles life as a parent (or a kid) that's so obviously somewhere inside her waiting to be written.  Consider it advice from a friend, Molly.  Highly recommended.

Note: I received a copy of this album for possible review.

Review: Little Seed - Elizabeth Mitchell

Here's my ugly Woody Guthrie secret: I never much liked Woody Guthrie's music.  Not the songs themselves, just their presentation on record.  Neither of his two albums for kids he recorded in 1947 and released in 1956 -- Songs to Grow on for Mother and Child and Nursery Days -- get much play in our house.  To my ears, it almost sounds like Woody was just rushing to get these recorded, and nobody would suggest that these 65-year-old recordings of Woody and his guitar are sonically gorgeous.

The songs themselves, however?  Those are great.  They just needed someone to give them a little tender loving care.

Who better than Elizabeth Mitchell, possessor of one of kids' music most gentle and empathetic voices?  In the decade-plus she's been recording kids' music, she and her husband Daniel Littleton have consistently been one of the best interpreters of songs, drawing both from the folk tradition as well as more modern tunes (Velvet Underground, anyone?).  Each of her previous albums have included versions of Woody Guthrie songs and now on Little Seed: Songs for Children by Woody Guthrie she mixes those versions with some newly recorded tracks for what is now an essential Guthrie-related album, a nice tie-in to the bigger Woody 100th birthday celebrations.

The seven new tracks here are every bit as good as the five that have come before.  "Bling Blang," quite possibly my favorite Woody kids' song, gets a sparse backing arrangement of little more than banjo, ngoni, and knee slaps that is quietly and intensely joyful.  ("Why, Oh Why?," almost certainly my least favorite Woody kids' song -- and that's being generous -- is almost tolerable to me.)  I love Clem Waldmann's percussion on "Rattle My Rattle" and the simplicity of Mitchell and Littleton on "Merry-Go-Round," reminiscent of those lo-fi afternoon recordings on You Are My Flower lo these many years ago.

These songs are most appropriate for kids ages 0 through 5, though kids raised on Mitchell's recordings (ahem) will enjoy them beyond kindergarten.  As alluded to above, five of the tracks on the twelve-track album are previously released and on a 29-minute album, that's no small percentage, and really its only downside.  (The mp3 version on Amazon, currently just $4.99, may be an acceptable compromise, though that would be mean forgoing the as-usual excellent physical packaging from Smithsonian Folkways.)

Longtime Elizabeth Mitchell fans will love the new recordings on Little Seed, and if you're a newcomer to Mitchell's music for families, it's a sweet half-hour introduction to the kids' artist most visible folk interpreter.  She does right by Woody Guthrie.  Definitely recommended.

Review: Books from The Secret Mountain

The Canadian company The Secret Mountain has published a lot of CD/book sets the past few years.  Once every three or four months, it seems, the company releases a hardcover book accompanied by a full CD of music.  At this point, they are nearly the equal of the Putumayo Kids label in terms of their ongoing release of music from around the world (at least from an American's perspective), even if the depth of their catalogue isn't yet near that of Putumayo.

Let's take a look at some recent releases to see if any might be right for your family.

Let's start with the least-recent production, The Fabulous Song.  The book (written by Don Gillmor and illustrated by Marie-Louise Gay) was actually first published in 1996.  It concerns one Frederic Pipkin, a young boy who does not take to instruments of any kind but eventually finds his own way to bring music into the world.  It is my favorite of the books here, but the music by Michelle Campagne and Davy Gallant is my least favorite of the CDs here.  The songs have a bit of pop-musical sound to them, but unlike most musicals, the songs only comment on the action without really ever moving the action along itself, and while I happen to like my share of musicals, there are no distinguishing songs here.  (More details here.)

Next up is Chicken Joe Forgets Something Important, a sequel from Trout Fishing in America to their previous Secret Mountain book, My Name Is Chicken Joe.  Frankly, I didn't give this book and CD enough attention when it first came out last fall, because when I gave it another spin recently, I was surprised (and pleased) at how well-done the songs are.  As a CD, I liked it more than what was in part a greatest hits album on the first book.  The songs have some connection to the story, but each stands alone without the other.  The story itself (the title pretty much says it all) is slight, but Stephane Jorisch returns to give the story his "happy Ralph Steadman" illustrations.  As a set (and definitely for the CD alone), I would definitely give this book the edge over Fabulous Song and I would recommend the CD by itself as well. (Details)

Moving on to more Putumayo-ish turf, Secret Mountain last fall released Songs from the Baobab.  The book itself was a massive success overseas when it was first released a decade ago, selling more than 100,000 copies.  Now the set featuring African lullabies and nursery rhymes compiled by Chantal Grosleziat comes to North America.  The book itself features evocative illustrations by Elodie Nouhen and a line or two of translated text from each song on a page or two.  (More detailed liner notes follow these fully illustrated pages.)  I am certainly no expert in the renditions, but they sounded lovely to my ears.  I would say the songs tend more toward the lullaby end of the spectrum.  (Details)

For those of you looking for a sprightlier musical trip somewhere outside of America, the latest set from the label, Songs in the Shade of the Flamboyant Tree, should fit the bill.  This collection of French Creole lullabies and nursery rhymes is more on the nursery rhyme end of the spectrum.  The songs were compiled again by Chantal Grosleziat, but illustrator Laurent Corvaisier uses a brighter, more vibrant palette (befitting the music).  I recommend both this and its African cousin -- your preference for calmer versus more active songs (and pictures) should guide your choice.  (Details)

There you go -- four sets, at least three worth further exploration.