New York Music Daily

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Tag: album review

Morricone Youth Launch Their Marathon Film Score Recording Project with a Zombie Classic

It’s hard to think of a band more committed to darkly cinematic themes over the past almost twenty years than Morricone Youth. They started out covering the great Italian film composer’s work and quickly branched out into their own music. Their latest album, available on limited edition green vinyl, is a soundtrack to George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead, a mix of pieces from the original score plus creepy new instrumentals, streaming at youtube. It’s the debut release in a planned series of fifteen (15!?!?!) albums of material the band has scored for midnight movies and silent films over the past five years. Their Halloween night show at Nighthawk Cinema in Williamsburg – where they’ll be playing the album to accompany the film – is sold out, but they’ll also be at the annual Rubulad Halloween party on Oct 29, guessing at around 11 PM. As usual, the event promises to be a Burning Man style extravaganza featuring sets by Brooklyn’s original punk Balkan horn group Hungry March Band, haphazard gutter blues/garage rockers the YeahTones and Afrobeat funk dancefloor faves Emefe, plus “cabaret Scary-Go-Round, Jessica Delfino as Lucrezia Borgia, Kostume Karaoke Lounge by Alex Pearguson, and Dark Circus Extraordinaire by Abnorm Freakoeur.” Your best deal is to show up before 9 when cover is $15, otherwise it’s an extra ten bucks. Email for location and directions. 

The new album opens with the film’s original title theme, Driveway to the Cemetery: the band does it as macabre tritone art-rock with bandleader Devon E. Levins’ tiptoeing, eerily tremoloing guitar and Dan Kessler’s surreal wah synth. Barbra, the next track, circles slowly over a motorik synth theme for well over six minutes, Levins elegantly ominous tremolo-picking over the hard-hitting rhythm section of bassist John Castro – who also contributes a dead boys’ choir of wordless vocals – and drummer Kenny Shaw.

Traumatized is a lot more dynamic, and more typical of a horror film score: hammering guitars, moments of sheet terror and chaos juxtaposed with that shivery tremolo-picked theme. The spooky, barely minute-long miniature At the Gravesite reverts to the guitar-and-synth arrangement of the title theme, followed by the album’s centerpiece, the macabre art-rock anthem Beat ‘Em or Burn ‘Em, with its tricky metrics and horrified stomp-em-out interludes. The end title is the dirge Another One For the Fire, awash in tinkly glockenspiel, echo effects and evil chromatics. You’ll see this on the best albums of 2016 page here at the end of the year if we don’t run into a zombie apocalypse in the meantime.

And if you’re feeling sad that you missed out on the band’s Halloween night show, cheer up. You can catch their enigmatic, haunting, intriguingly lyrical former frontwoman Karla Rose & the Thorns playing her similarly cinematic originals at Berlin at around 8:30; LA punk legends the Dickies headline at around 10. Cover is $10.

Hauntingly Poignant Folk Noir and Phantasmagorical Rock From Thee Shambels

Thee Shambels have been one of New York’s best bands long enough to make it hard to believe that their new album, Lonely à la Mode – streaming at Bandcamp – is their first full-length release. Just in time for Halloween too! Frontman/guitarist Neville Elder’s wickedly literate, bleakly cynical existentialist narratives have never been more acerbically poignant, and the band behind him are onfire through a mix of noir cabaret, Nashville gothic, folk noir, retro soul and a Celtic-tinged ballad or two. Pound for pound, the album is somewhat less raucous than the band’s previous output. The production is lusciously lush, Claudia Chopek a one-woman string section floating behind Melissa Elledge’s accordion, Scott Kitchen’s bass, JJ Murphy’s drums and Sarah Mischner’s soaring harmony vocals. Matthew Dennis plays guitar, Alex Mallett plays banjo and CP Roth is on keyboards.

The opening track, Will There Be Women at My Funeral? has its beleaguered narrator costing out his own funeral over a swinging, Waitsish backdrop fueled by Elledge’s elegant accordion:

Will there be women at my funeral?
Will you press your sisters to attend?
How much do you think they’ll want for their time?
How much do you think I should spend…
Smudge your lips on my dead white face, add the cost to the bill…

And it just gets better from there.

Bad Timing is a slow, reverbtoned Lynchian soul epic set in a vividly detailed, seedy circus milieu where an acrobat’s “empty trapeze swings out in the dark,” as he falls to his death, Elder questioning:

Are the things we want
The things we need?
Are the things we need
The things we want?

With its subtle Brooklyn references, it could be a standout Joe Maynard song.

Caroline is more upbeat, a mashup of Blonde on Blonde Dylan and Walk Away Renee-style baroque pop. The album’s title track is a broodingly romping, masterfully orchestrated minor-key blend of noir cabaret and moody folk rock which wouldn’t be out of place on a Kotorino album. “Let’s throw stuff in the quarry,” Elder intones gleefully in the eerily shuffling Sister, “Maybe we can catch a stray cat.”

Elder punctuates the title of When Will We Be Lovers? with ominously tolling reverb guitar as the song gets underway, then the song build to toweringly majestic, angst-fueled heights. “I’m holding on for dear life,” Elder admits, building a vividly downcast East River tableau. in his characteristically flinty delivery. The slightly more optimistic, backbeat-driven nocturne Radio Down Low (Nashville) could have been a radio hit for the Wallflowers twenty years ago, complete with twinkling piano and mandolin solos.

Elder goes back to slow, moody, classic 60s soul for the breakup ballad Letting Go. Mallett’s banjo drives the sweeping, 6/8 ballad The Girl At the Bottom of the World, a love song that makes an apt companion piece to Roy Orbison’s In Dreams. Happy Birthday Baby (Going Down) takes an unexpected turn into wryly amusing lickety-split vintage R&B; the final cut is the surrealistic instrumental La Valse des Solitaires. Count this among the dozen or so best releases of 2016 and watch this space for an album release show.

Celebrating the World’s Most Famous Suicide Song

What’s more appropriate for Halloween than the world’s most famous suicide song? The truth about Gloomy Sunday is a lot less lurid than the legend. The song’s composer, Rezso Seress, actually did commit suicide more than three decades after he wrote it in the early 1930s. It’s a sad tune, although the same could be said about thousands of other melodies from across the centuries, none of whose writers ended up killing themselves. Nor did Laszlo Javor, author of the lyrics to the first recorded version, by Pal Kalmor, in 1935. That reality didn’t stop the BBC and other radio networks from succumbing to an urban myth and banning the song until just a few years ago.

You can hear Kalmor’s wonderful dead-calm performance – complete with funeral bells and heart-wrenching strings –  on the new compilation album Hungarian Noir, streaming at Spotify. The playlist also includes the more famous and considerably subtler 1941 recording by Billie Holiday with the Teddy Wilson Orchestra along with recordings from the past few years, some of which are more Halloweenish than others.

A handful are ludicrous to the point of being funny. A breezy African pop version? How about a Brazilian rap version? There’s also a talented Cuban chanteuse whose phonetic command of English falls short of what a singer needs in order to channel much of any emotion, happy or sad, in addition to an instrumental arrangement by Cuban salsa orchestra Manolito Simonet y su Trabuco, whose icy precision speaks to the group’s professionalism more than their commitment to encouraging mass suicide.

But some of the new reinterpretations of the song are very creative. Matuto contribute a moodily psychedelic, cumbia-tinged version, guitarist Clay Ross’ Lynchian, chromatic reverb guitar mingling with Rob Curto’s accordion. Accordionist Chango Spasiuk approaches the song as a vividly spare, Romany jazz-tinged instrumental. Polish art-rock songbird Kayah’s spacious trip-hop take looks back to the original with stark vocals over lushly crescendoing orchestration. And unsurprisingly, the best of the reinventions here is by Cimbalomduo, a collaboration between two of the world’s most exhilarating virtuosos of the Hungarian zither: Kálmán Balogh and Miklós Lukács. Obviously, their take isn’t about pyrotechnics but slow, brooding ripples and lingering despair.

The best new version of the song didn’t make the cut – or the album’s compilers didn’t have it on their radar. Nashville gothic songwriter Mark Sinnis recorded it on his 2010 album The Night’s Last Tomorrow, and gave New York audiences plenty of chills with it before he headed for the hills and, ultimately, to North Carolina. Speaking of which, Sinnis returns to New York State for a cd release show for his latest album, One Red Rose Among the Dying Leaves on October 30 at 6 PM at Sue’s Sunset House,  137 N Water St in Peekskill. There’s no cover; the baritone crooner and his band will be playing two long sets. The venue is just steps from the Peekskill Metro-North station, and trains will be running for a couple of hours after festivities end at 11 PM.

Superstar Film Composer Johann Johannsson and New Music Luminaries ACME Team Up This Weekend

This Sunday, Oct 23 at 8 PM there’s an auspicious collaboration between the vivid and frequently haunting film composer and keyboardist Johann Johannsson, and indie classical chamber music stars American Contemporary Music Ensemble in a recently renovated old church at the edge of where Fort Greene meets Park Slope. The venue is the Co-Cathedral of St. Joseph at 856 Pacific St, (Vanderbilt/Underhill); the closest train is the 2/3 to Bergen St. $27.50 advance tix are your best bet and available at the Poisson Rouge box office.

Johannsson works fast and is constantly putting out new scores. He’s also the rare composer with the good sense to release those scores as stand-alone soundtrack recordings. Of his most recent projects, the real creeper is Sicario, streaming at Spotify. It’s typified by all sorts of apprehensive white noise giving way to sudden swells – then virtual silence. It’s also a lot more electronic than Johannsson’s work usually is: its distant, echoey, icy gunshot sonics and relentlessly lumbering android stomp offer a fond nod back to Brad Fiedel‘s enormously influential Robocop score. A sad cello theme early on is unanticipated and welcome, as is a rippling, trebly electric bass passage. The music takes on more of the feel of a video game as it goes along – but that’s the nature of war these days.

Johannsson also scored The Theory of Everything (at Spotify), which supplies pretty much everything you would expect throughout a feel-good drama . If you’re one of the legions who enjoyed the Stephen Hawking biopic, you may remember the elegant but doggedly determined main theme, lots of anxious neoromantic piano-and-orchestra segments, pageantry occasionally sweeping in from a moody backdrop. You may not remember the composer’s sweet little lullaby, or how much fun he has building starry-night and deep-space scenarios. Hearing the score by itself facilitates new appreciation for such things.

Johannsson’s most recent instrumental album, also streaming at Spotify, is Orphee. The seemingly never-ending main theme and its variations have a surprisingly simple, indie pop touch, beginning with its minimalist, slowly rising waves of piano and strings. Half of it is so simplistic, and lacking in resolve, that it could be Arcade Fire – hmmm, maybe that explains the Poisson Rouge’s involvement with the Brooklyn concert. But that comparison is also not a dis – good film composers write to fit a narrative. Maybe Orphee is meant to follow a vaguely uneasy, possibly tortuous storyline that doesn’t move around much. The Greek myth certainly doesn’t offer much in the way of subtlety.

The Monks of Norcia: For Halloween, or Yoga?

The distant, mysterious bells of the basilica where the Monks of Norcia reside open their debut album – a surprise hit, streaming at Spotify, which topped the classical album charts last year. Its thirty-three brief tracks, awash in the space’s rich natural reverb, raise questions of how we’re conditioned to perceive music. Is this an uber-gothic Halloween mix…a collection of expertly sung music with a function as practical as farmhands’ field hollers and African talking drums…or spare, sometimes understatedly attractive melodies suited to moments of reflection or relaxation? While many of us may relate to centuries-old themes like these via their association with horror film, the music here is otherworldly, but not particularly heavy. It’s serious and purposeful, and while these men may not be captured at the peak of a crazy party, their voices are not sad.

The tracks follow the monks’ daily liturgical activities, from sunup to past sundown. The melodies are surprisingly catchy, the rhythms carefree but confident: if you sing this on a daily basis, you get good at it. There are graceful exchanges of call-and-response, stately and often unexpectedly expressive solo passages juxtaposed with interludes sung in unison. There’s none of the intricate polyphony of the Renaissance; these antiphons and responsories go back much further. And yet, the lush harmonies of Monteverdi and Tallis come across as far more quaint than this music.

One likely reason for this album’s success as a seller is that it’s hard to listen to at Spotify. You don’t expect monks to have a Soundcloud or Bandcamp page, and these guys don’t. Since the individual tracks are so short, there’s an annoying ad popping up every couple of minutes, something that doesn’t happen if you listen to lengthy, sidelong pieces by, say, the AACM. Which certainly makes this calm, sometimes stark collection of rarely recorded material worth owning. Is it a Halloween album? For those who think of a place of worship as a place of death, absolutely, although the daily routine chronicled here seems anything but grim. See, when they’re not singing, the monks brew beer.

A Killer Album from Melodic Metal Band The Lords of Black

Are Trans-Siberian Orchestra a Halloween band? How about Iron Maiden? If you answered yes to both questions, you need to crank the Lords of Black‘s album, simply titled II – streaming at Spotify – at least once this month. If either of those first two groups are your thing, you will probably find yourself blasting this many times. Although there’s plenty here that’s definitely Halloweenish, taken as a whole it comes across as a requiem, more sadness and resignation than venom amidst the bursts and blasts.

While the band’s obvious influence, from Ronnie Romero’s grand guignol vocals, to the machinegunning guitar multitracks of Tony Hernando, is classic mid-80s Maiden, there’s also plenty of bluster and cumulo-nimbus ambience from the synthesized orchestration. Javi Garcia’s ammering bass riffage over Andy C’s bludgeoning drums complete the picture. The cemetery graphics on the album cover give pretty much everything away. And the album’s opening instrumental interlude, Malevolently Beautiful, with its towering twin-guitar attack, makes a solid launching pad for the pummeling first song, Merciless.

The band launches into the fiery anthem Only One Life Away with a tricky icepick rhythm, then the guitars intertwine like martyrs burning at the stake before one spirals away toward Eddie Van Halen territory later on – Hernando isn’t necessarily subtle, but he’s mightily impactful. By contrast, Everything You’re Not opens with unexpectedly pop-oriented piano before the guitars kick in and the storm begins to rage.

New World’s Coming has Exorcist Theme-like piano tinkling evilly behind the guitar crush: call this overhype, but when the volleys of eight-notes kick in, it hits you: this could be a great Maiden track from, say, Powerslave. The band oscillates in and quickly hits a staggering gallop with Cry No More, a toweringly elegaic shout-out to “broken heroes that can’t take it anymore.” Tears I Will Be keeps the drama going full tilt with more of a straight-up, volleying drive, some serious chromatic menace and Adrian Smith-like sprints down the fretboard (and a real Spinal Tap moment on the first chorus – it’s hilarious, and probably not intentional).

The band pulls back, but just a little bit, with Insane, a midtempo minor-key burner. Live By the Lie, Die By the Truth kicks off as what would have been the most likely track to get radio airplay if this was 1985, but by midway through, the savage volleys of tremolo-picking make it the album’s heaviest cut.

Ghost of You is the album’s most epic track: baroque acoustic guitar and toxic atmospherics mingle with a grimly wary dirge, shades of Maiden’s Rime of the Ancient Mariner. The Art of Illusion Part III: The Wasteland makes a good segue: it’s the ghost riders really soaring through the smoky skies, with some tasty phaser effects. The final cut is the defiantly heroic Shadows of War: assaultive as this band is, war is the last thing they want, as Romero’s Brian Johnson-like scream at the end makes more than clear.

Everyone in the group plays with searing chops. Throughout the album, the production has a magnificence drenched in icy digital reverb: the bass really kicks in when Garcia slams out chords as a chorus reaches combustion point, and the drums are tastefully back in the mix, vinyl record style. As melodic metal goes in 2016, it’s hard to imagine anything more fun than this.

La Femme Bring Le Noir to Williamsburg on the 19th

There’s no French equivalent to Halloween, but French band La Femme play as if they grew up with the American holiday. The core of the group comprises frontman/keyboardist Marlon Magnée, chanteuse/keyboardist Clémence Quélenneche, guitarist Sacha Got and bassist Sam Lefevre. Their June Summerstage show was tantalizingly eclectic, neither as dark nor as trippy as their previous studio output. While their latest album Mystere – streaming at Spotify  – is arguably their most diverse to date, there’s enough menace on it to entice you in and then keep you there with all its catchy hooks, both light and dark. The songs’ French lyrics range from surreal humor, to broodingly cinematic narratives, to punk hostility. La Femme are back in New York this Oct 19 at 7 PM at Warsaw in Williamsburg. Cover is $18.

The opening track, Sphynx, lives up to its inscrutable title – at heart, it’s a ba-bump noir cabaret number, but lit up with a swirly, circling synth hook and a big, ominously blustery string synth arrangement. La Vide Est Ton Nouveau Prenom (Empty Is Your New Name) follows a moody psych-folk sway, sparse acoustic guitar blending with mournful keys. Ou Va le Monde (Where’s the World Going?) sets Magnée’s apprehensive rap over the brooding surf rock that’s been the group’s signature sound, more or less, since the beginning. with a weird, achingly warped keyboard solo out.

The band takes an unexpectedly sunny detour with Septembre. notwithstanding the clever outro where they reintroduce a Jesus & Mary Chain theme to its Velvets roots. Tatiana sounds like the Black Angels on whippits (with a little Plastic Bertrand thrown in), while both SSD and Elle Ne T’Aime Pas (She Doesn’t Like You) come across as a Gallic take on Pulp during the British band’s snide pseudo-disco days.

Exorciseur (a pun on “exorcist”) nicks the changes from the national anthem of grunge and makes swaying psychedelia out of it. Mycose is a sardonically lyrical mashup of surf music, motorik disco and Planet Clare new wave. Tueur Des Fleurs (Flower Killer), with its low, looming string synth and Lychian tremolo guitar, is the album’s darkest and arguably best track. The dubby, ethereal, late Beatlesque Al Warda is ominously enticing; and the loping, surfy Psyzook, with Quélenneche’s stratospheric, airy vocals, is arguably even more mysterious.

Le Chemin (The Road) could be a dangerous early Dream Syndicate track if that group had been more keyboard-oriented. The album winds up with Vagues (Clouds), the epic that Julee Cruise never tackled. About 40% of this makes a first-class Halloween playlist; the rest you can sprinkle around your party mixes.

Eljuri’s Mighty, Fearless Revolutionary Debut Album: One of 2016’s Best

Eljuri play edgy, minor-key, fearlessly political south-of-the-border rock. Their songs are catchy and as fiery as they are eclectic. Frontwoman Cecilia Villar Eljuri punctuates her clever, metaphorically-charged Spanish-language lyrics with intense, dynamic, often exhilarating  lead guitar work – she’s sort of this era’s David Gilmour of rock en Español. Their debut album La Lucha (“The Struggle”) is streaming at Storyamp. They’re playing the album release show this Wednesday, Oct 12 at 7 PM at Drom; advance tix are $15

The album’s opening title track, a punk-funk number, is disarmingly straightforward: “With my guitar and my lyrics, I speak for the struggle,” the bandleader explains. The production is artful: lingering reverb-toned ambience behind the scratchy rhythm guitar. The band switches to an upbeat reggae groove for the brassy anti-violence anthem Bang Bang, ending with an exhaustive litany of cities which have been the scene of notorious mass shootings and murders by police: it’s long enough to go on for a whole verse and chorus and finally ends with New York City.

Jangly guitars balance against stately piano on the mournful but propulsive bolero El Viento (“The Wind”): musically, it’s one of the album’s strongest tracks, sung with unexpecteldy misty nuance. By contrast, Nunca Volvere (“Never Coming Back”) pounces along with a flurrying, chromatically-fueled, Andalucian-tinged menace, like legendary Mexican art-rockers Jaguares at their most savage.

The band brings back a swaying, funk-tinged drive on Injusticia, then, finally six tracks in, they do a happy tune in a major key: the bouncy, Blondie-esque Right Now. Then they go back to the menace with Indiferencia, a towering, majestic cumbia-flavored lament, resonant twelve-string guitar against lush string synth. Quiero Saber (“I Wanna Know”) takes a turn back into classic-style roots reggae, with a tantalizingly brief, psychedelic wah guitar solo midway through.

Likewise, the artsy psychedelia of Luz Roja (“Red Light”) brings to mind peak-era Bob Marley, until the band picks up the pace with a scampering chorus. Salvame (“Save Me”), with Eljuri’s lyrics switching between English and Spanish, takes a turn back toward straight-up backbeat 70s rock with salsa-tinged piano and Satana-esque guitar. The final cut, Sed (Thirst) slowly builds toward a towering, angst-fueled peak, a defiant, ultimatley hopeful revolutionary anthem. Listening to this album all the way through, it hits you: every single one of these tracks is strong. The lyrics are smart and relevant, Eljuris’s vocals are just as dynamic and the band is killer. Who would have thought that what might be the best rock record of the year would be sung mostly in Spanish. La Reconquista might be closer than we think!

Purist Americana Banjo Player and Songwriter Kaia Kater Hits New York for a Couple of Shows

Kaia Kater is sort of a Great White North counterpart to Sarah Jarosz. Both are relatively young (early 20s) and esteemed in Americana circles. Kater’s axe is the banjo; like multi-instrumentalist Jarosz (who has since fallen in with the dadrock crowd), her repertoire draws heavily on high lonesome Appalachian traditoinal sounds. More impressively, Kater is also a talented, tuneful songwriter whose originals stand out in the crowded newgrass/string band world for their vivid, often brooding rusticity. Her debut album, Sorrow Bound, is streaming at her webpage. She’s playing the Jalopy tonight, Oct 5 sometime after 9 as part of Feral Foster‘s weekly Roots & Ruckus multi-act extravaganza; haunting flamenco/Sicilian song reinterpreter Julia Patinella and blues duo Miss Jubilee & Ethan Leinwand are also on the bill. Then tomorrow, Oct 6 Kater is at the small room at the Rockwood at 10 PM.

Kater opens the album by reinterpreting the old standard When Sorrows Encompass Me Round as an ominously allusive southern gothic narrative, her spare, syncopated banjo encompasssed by low cumulo-nimbus piano ambience and the occasional steel guitar whine or roar. Kater’s gentle, honeyed voice rises a little in the jaunty, moonshine-fueled seduction tale Southern Girl, punctuated by dancing fiddle. By contrast, the field holler Sun to Sun evokes the most brooding, terminally depressed chain gang song you could imagine.

Kater switches to French for the spare but lively Acadian dance tune En Filant Ma Quenouille. Then she multitracks her voice for the understatedly funny, surreal, a-cappella Moonshiner. The instrumental Rose on the Mountain gives Kater the chance to flex her chops in tandem with the fiddle, eerie steel lingering underneath. A little later, the trio – Kater again joined by fiddle and steel – swing though another instrumental, the considerably more animated Valley Forge.

The one-chord, minor-key cautionary tales Oh Darlin’ and West Virginia Boys are dead ringers for mid-1800s Bible Belt folk tunes.The album’s longest instrumental, Salt River, is also its most hypotic and modern-sounding. Kater winds up with the understatedly eerie Come and Rest and its enticing Blair Witch ambience.

That Kater happens to be Canadian-born, of Afro-Caribbean descent, is really beside the point. Does anybody make a big deal of the fact that Hank Williams was white and sang a lot of blues? If anything, Kater’s writing reminds just how much cultural cross-pollination there was back when songs first soared over mountain valleys that hadn’t yet been clearcut, stripmined or dotted with cellphone towers disguised as pines.

Jim Kweskin and Geoff Muldaur: Just As Relevant As They Were Fifty Years Ago

Jim Kweskin‘s Jug Band sounded like they were as old as the songs they played. But that was the point.

They were hippies reprising the ribald, raucous sounds of folk music that went back as far as a century before them, sometimes to the consternation of the establishment. Over half a century after the peak of his band’s late 60s popularity, Kweskin and his bandmate Geoff Muldaur (father to Clare Muldaur of the brilliant art-rock band Clare & the Reasons) have a new album, Penny’s Farm – streaming at Spotify – and a release show tonight, Oct 4 at 7 PM at Joe’s Pub. Cover is steep, $30, but you could be witness to history. Who ever thought that Kweskin’s Jug Band, or any facsimile thereof, would ever take the stage again, let alone in their old Village stomping ground?

This isn’t the original Kweskin band lineup from all those years ago. Instead, the album features top-tier Americana talent including steel guitarist and dobro sorceress Cindy Cashdollar, blues fiddler Suzy Thompson, and singer Juli Crockett of the Evangenitals. The voices of both Kweskin and Muldaur have weathered over the years, but that’s to be expected, and if anything, enhances the songs’ rustic appeal. The music here has a spare, front-porch feel; in case you were wondering, there is no jug in this band.

Diamond Joe, the album’s opening cut, pairs Thompson’s fiddle with Kweskin’s wry vocal, Cashdollar’s dobro filling in the spaces elegantly. Likewise, the band gives The Boll Weevil a low-key, sly feel, signifying like crazy through this thinly veiled slave lament. And the Celtic-tinged title track, Down on Penny’s Farm resonates just as much as it did a hundred years ago, a grim tale of foreclosure and destitution.

The guitars in the swaying country blues Sweet to Mama are panned left and right to give the song an unexpectedly rich, lush feel, which the band reprises in the balmy 19th century reminiscence My Mary. And the interplay between the bandleaders’ fingerpicking in Fishin’ Blues is just plain gorgeous.

Early zeros New York Americana fans will remember the ballad Louis Collins (also known as Angels Laid Him Away) from the morose Jack Grace version. The band picks up the pace with the swinging ragtime-flavored Just a Little While to Stay Here, which they replicate a little later with the jaunty Downtown Blues, which Thompson caps off with a lusciously shivery solo.

Musically speaking, the album’s high point is The Cuckoo, reinvented as a somber, Richard Thompson-esque dirge awash in tersely purposeful guitar interweave. Kweskin continues to play his cards close to his vest throughout the surreal guitar cascades of the murder ballad 99 Year Blues; then the band waltzes with a vivid weariness through Tennessee Blues. The album winds up with a live take of the murder ballad Frankie, a reminder of how magically the band can recreate this stuff onstage. There’s also a vintage children’s song as well as a bizarre number in fractured Spanglish. Authenticity is a dubious concept these days, but this further cements the whole band’s claim to a vast, centuries-old heritage.