New York Music Daily

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Tag: funny songs

A New Version of the Bestselling Album of Alltime: Even More of a Riot Than the Original

For anyone born too late for the radio-and-records era, the bestselling album of alltime is not by Nirvana or the Spice Girls…or the Beatles or the Rolling Stones. either. It’s AC/DC’s Back in Black. It was a rite of passage for an entire generation of dudes. For those about to rock, the new vinyl cover compilation Back in Black [Redux] – streaming at Bandcamp – is a hoot. It’s a bunch of A-list metal and heavy psychedelic acts reinventing a bunch of songs that for all their leather-lunged posturing were never made to be taken seriously. This might be the funniest record of the year.

Red Fang sink their talons into Hell’s Bells and mess with the chords just enough to bring out the macabre that the original only hinted at – although, damn, they leave out the churchbell! Howling Giant and Udo join forces and speed up Shoot to Thrill to practically punk velocity, having fun emulating Bon Scott instead of Brian Johnson…and the two-bass jam toward the end will leave you, uh, howling,

Likewise, Supersuckers find the inner boogie in What Do You Do For Money with their Molly Hatchet-ish version. Other than the speedup outro, Smoking Lightning do Givin’ the Dog a Bone pretty close to the original bone: sometimes it makes no sense to mess with a good thing.

Heavy Temple‘s Let Me Put My Love Into You is bulkier, bluesier and also more serious than the original, which seems to be the joke. Besvarjelsen reinvent the title track as a bizarre mashup of melodic Nordic metal and corporate urban pop. The funniest track of all of them is Jakethehawk‘s remake of You Shook Me All Night Long, a deadpan, venomous spoof of 80s goth and dreampop cliches.

Whores‘ version of Have a Drink on Me is another real mindfuck, with its Gang of Four and Psychedelic Furs allusions. The joke in Early Man‘s Shake a Leg is way too good to spoil: let’s just say these dudes really know their AC/DC. No spoilers for Earthride’s Rock n Roll Ain’t No Noise Pollution either.

Suggestion to the Redux compilation brain trust: let’s see what this cast of characters can do with the first Van Halen record next year.

Sick of Halloween Cliches? The Goosebumps Soundtrack Is Your Revenge

Today’s Halloween album is the cartoon kind. Danny Abosch and John Maclay‘s Original Studio Cast Recording to Goosebumps: The Musical – Phantom of the Auditorium is up at Spotify. It’s a play within a play packed with snarky, spot-on acting-world references.

This sometimes loving, sometimes coldly cynical satire begins when a handful of drama-club dorks, sick of being stuck in nonspeaking roles, decide to hijack the Woods Mill Middle School’s production of Phantom of the Opera. Seeing as they’re the school’s most dedicated horror fans, they’re uniquely qualified to pull off the stunt.

Beyond Andrew Lloyd Webber’s third-rate Berlioz, it’s a good guess that this is peppered with sardonic quotes from other musicals like The Lion King and Beetlejuice. The fourth wall comes down fast and pretty much stays down throughout this spoof, which also extends to the music. Like the narrative, this is a parody of parodies. Corporate urban pop and new wave each get a good spanking. Every horror-film score cliche other than a theremin eventually makes an appearance: spiraling cello, a churchbell, a random scream, lingering vibraphone and minor keys everywhere.

The plotline is akin to a PG-rated take on Heathers (which also was adapted into a killer musical). This cast includes Krystina Alabado, Alex Brightman, Stephanie Styles, Noah Galvin and Sheryl Lee Ralph. Alabado gets more time on the mic than anyone else. It’s anybody’s guess if or how good a singer she is because she’s autotuned. But that could be part of the joke.

The Broken Reed Saxophone Quartet Bring Their Irrepressibly Entertaining Sound to the South Slope

More than anything, the Broken Reed Saxophone Quartet swing. Most sax quartets work in the rarefied and all too frequently abstruse world of contemporary classical music. The Broken Reeds are one of the world’s funniest jazz bands, and the absence of bass and drums doesn’t keep them from bringing the party. Their most recent album, Those Who Were – a 2019 release streaming at their music page – may reference a lot of artists who’ve left us, but alto sax player and bandleader Charley Gerard’s compositions are as irrepressibly upbeat and entertaining as always. The group are bringing their bright, erudite, often comedic, catchy tunes to an outdoor show with special guest singer Tammy Scheffer on Oct 22 at 6:30 PM at Open Source Gallery, 306 17th St south of 6th Ave in South Park Slope. Take the R to Prospect Ave.

The album’s opening number, Something to Remember You By is somewhere between a stroll and a march, with rightly lustrous four-part harmonies, understated dixieland counterpoint and walking bass from baritone saxophonist Dimitri Moderbacher

Gerard leads a series of flutters punctuated by moments of warm resonance built around a catchy, cheery theme in A Long Life: the point seems that if you stick around long enough, you’ll be happy too. Soprano saxophonist Jenny Hill’s tantalizingly brief solo adds unexpected gravitas. She Was Connected to the Earth has more of a dixieland-style intertwine between the horns, while Don’t Forget the Cork Grease has a tightly pulsing hot 20s exuberance, once again capped off by Hill’s quicksilver legato.

A Lot of Living in a Short Amount of Time is an edgy, increasingly wild, Ellingtonian minor-key jump blues with some incisively conversational moments between Hill and tenor saxophonist Justin Flynn. Call Me Jimmy, dedicated to Gerard’s teacher and big inspiration Jimmy Giuffre, is an aptly eclectic mini-suite built around a sternly strolling, 19th century gospel-infused blues: a brilliant guy, but not a particular warm, fuzzy character, if this is any indication

The sixth track is Who Was Father Mckenzie? – gotta love these titles, huh? – and as Gerard sees him, he has a secret latin side. With its sly cha-cha riffage and Gerard reaching for the rafters, the song has absolutely nothing to do with the Beatles.

The group go back to biting minor-key blues in the steady, strutting bursts of Do You Want to Be Ruth. Hmmm…which one could this be? Ruth Brown, maybe? Hill’s solo about three quarters of the way in is one of the album’s most unselfconsciously breathtaking moments.

Gerard airs out his latin side again in Adios A Cuba, a slinky nocturne and one of only two tracks on the album with bass and drums. Goodbye Don, a fond remembrance of a former drummer, shifts from matter-of-fact lustre to a pulse that’s just short of frantic, Gerard’s high-voltage solo saluting a guy who obviously had no shortage of energy.

The group finally reach Keystone Kops scamper, intertwined within a surprisingly shamanic Afro-Cuban groove, in Father Mckenzie’s Cuban Catastrophe, only to end it on a simmering, serious note. They close the record with Ugly Duck Strut, dark and tan Ellingtonian blues filtered through jauntily shifting rhythms. If you were lucky enough to catch Quatre Vingt Neuf onstage in the months before the lockdown when Wade Ripka was frantically writing charts to Leroy Shield’s Little Rascals themes, you’ll love this crew.

A Restriction-Free Show From One Of New York’s Most Interesting, Individualistic Jazz Reedmen

Until last year’s lockdown, multi-reedman Mike McGinnis was a ubiquitous presence in the New York jazz scene. He’s an eclectic, erudite composer and arranger, as adept on the sax as the clarinet, equally informed by Americana and music from across the European continent. With his lush nine-piece Road Trip Band, he rescued Bill Smith’s picturesque 1956 Concerto for Clarinet from third-stream jazz obscurity. But as serious and straightforward as much of his own work is, he also has a great sense of humor. It’s anybody’s guess who he’s playing with at his gig at 2 PM at Parkside Plaza in Prospect Lefferts Gardens on Oct 17, but it’s bound to be entertaining, especially as there are also dance performances on the bill. The space is at the corner of Parkside and Ocean Avenue, close to the Q stop at Parkside Ave.

One particularly colorful project McGinnis has been involved with for over a decade is the Four Bags. He plays clarinet and bass clarinet in the band alongside trombonist Brian Drye, guitarist Sean Moran and another trombonist, Jacob Garchik, who plays accordion. Their most recent release, Waltz, came out in 2017 and is still up at Bandcamp. The connecting thread is a frequent but hardly omnipresent time signature: they should have called the album The Three-Four Bags.

To set the stage, they put a coy dixieland spin on what could be a Mexican folk tune, El Caballo Bayo, then go fullscale cartoon on you. It’s obvious, but impossible not to laugh.

The joke in the second track, Runaway Waltz is polyrhythms – those, and a baroquely comedic sensibility. Waltz of the Jacobs is a brassy, Belgian-tinged musette, the four taking a couple of increasingly cartoonish detours before Drye and Garchik engage in some calmer, completely deadpan clowning around.

Invisible Waltz is not a John Cage cover but one of the deliciously slow, airy, sinister tunes the group like to throw at you once in awhile. The group go back to jaunty latin sounds with Puerta Del Principe, which also has droll hints at flamenco, unexpectedly stormy gusts and a head-scratchingly exuberant McGinnis clarinet solo.

Vaults Dumb ‘Ore bears a suspicious resemblance to a famously venomous Randy Newman song that Nina Simone covered. The band switch her out for a brooding, bolero-tinged interplay between accordion and guitar, then Drye adds a surprisingly somber extra layer before Moran takes it into increasingly fanged psychedelia. Finally, the jokes kick in, one poker-faced quote after another.

G is for Geezus is a buffoonish New Orleans theme. There are also bits and pieces of variations on Les Valse Des As, the wryly nocturnal closing cut, scattered throughout the album. Fans of funny jazz acts like the Microscopic Septet and Mostly Other People Do the Killing will enjoy this goofy but very seriously assembled stuff.

The Tiptons Sax Quartet Release the Funnest Jazz Album of the Year So Far

Since the zeros, the Tiptons Saxophone Quartet have been making some of the most lusciously irreverent music in jazz. Their deviously entertaining latest album Wabi Sabi is streaming at Bandcamp. Joined by their longtime drummer and ringer dude Robert Kainar, the four reedwomen fire off one catchy, harmonically rich number after another, drawing on styles from Romany brass to soca to dixieland and many points in between. Their music is picturesque, upbeat and occasionally cartoonish. Everybody in the band writes, and sings – or at least vocalises. This is one of the funnest and funniest albums of the year.

The album’s opening track is December’s Dance, by baritone player Tina Richerson. It’s an acerbically pulsing blend of Ellingtonian lustre and dusky Ethiopian chromatics, Kainar pushing the song deeper toward funk as the solos around the horn peak out with a wild crescendo from alto player Amy Denio.

Similarly, Denio’s El Gran Orinador is a Balkan/latin brass band mashup with a dixieland-like horn intertwine, Richerson playing the tuba bassline on her baritone. Tenor player Jessica Lurie’s friendly ghost of a solo as Kainar squirrels around is one of the album’s high points. The title track, by tenor player Sue Orfield balances lushly triumphant harmonies with a spare, camelwalking Afrobeat groove and a soaring, carefree vocalese solo.

A Sparkley Con, by Lurie has a lithely undulating New Orleans second-line rhythm, Richerson again playing the tuba role beneath the cheer overhead before cutting loose with a tersely bluesy solo. Root Dance, a second Denio tune has Serbian flair in the horns’ biting chromatics, dramatic vocalese and tricky rhythm: the precision of Orfield and Lurie’s tenors fluttering like a trumpet section is breathtaking.

Kainar’s keening cymbal harmonics gently launch a spacey intro to Torquing of the Spheres, an especially resonant Lurie composition, goes slinking along in 10/8, the composer taking a tersely spiraling solo on soprano. The band head to Trinidad, with some New Orleans mixed into Richerson’s lively but enveloping Jouissance.

Memory Bait, by Orfield is part punchy go-go tune, part action movie theme and a launching pad for some of the album’s most ambitiously adrenalizing solos. Denio’s final composition here is Moadl Joadl, a Balkan tune with a broodingly atmospheric intro that lightens when the dancing rhythm comes in.

Lurie manages to build the album’s lushest brass band evocation in 3x Heather’s 17, maintaining the tricky Balkan rhythm around a wryly suspenseful drum break. The album winds up with Orfield’s Working Song, shifting from a rather somber oldtime gospel theme to echoes of a 19th century field holler mashed up with Afrobeat and reggae, This is a lock for one of the best albums of 2021.

Fun fact: the band take their name from Billy Tipton, a well-known saxophonist and bandleader who was born biologically female but managed to live and perform as a man for decades, at a time when it was almost as daunting to be a woman in jazz as it was to dress as a member of the opposite sex. How far we’ve come – one hopes, anyway.

An Enticing Brooklyn Gig by the Irrepressibly Amusing Sterling Strings

One of the most auspiciously entertaining shows of the summer so far happens this July 20 at noon at Metrotech Park in downtown Brooklyn, where the Sterling Strings are playing their tongue-in-cheek string quartet arrangements of rap and pop hits. It would be a mistake to hear them tackling a Kanye West tune and dismiss them as a comedy band. On one hand, their shtick can be ridiculously funny. On the other, they’re serious musicians with formidable chops. Beyond that, their instrumental versions often elevate some awfully cheesy material to unexpected places, when the group aren’t punking out Broadway themes or suddenly getting serious with an unexpectedly plaintive, low-key version of an Astor Piazzolla tango.

They don’t have an album out, but they’re all over the web and their videos page reveals an immense amount of method behind the madness. They turn DH Khaled’s Wild Thoughts into a vampy, kind of creepy tune. Cellist Eric Cooper bows his bassline, cello-metal style, instead of plucking it out, and the rest of the group – violinists Frederique Gnaman and Edward W. Hardy, and violist Patrick Page – choose their spots to sliiiiiiiiide around.

They sneak a couple of devious classical quotes into Despacito; their murky version of Eleanor Rigby is pure chamber metal, raising the song’s menace by a factor of ten. Work, the Rihanna hit, is a lot more spare and stark than you would expect – maybe even poignant. Who would have thought.

Same with the Cristina Perri weeper A Thousand Years, which the group reinvent as a faux-baroque canon. Speaking of canons, they also turn in a very expressive take of the famous Pachelbel tune, underscoring the group’s classical cred. If you’re in the area on lunch break or otherwise, this show could be an awful lot of fun. Take the F to Jay St., exit at the front of the Manhattan-bound side.

Irrresistible, Boisterous Fun From the 3D Jazz Trio

The 3D Jazz Trio are a subset of the well-loved Diva Jazz Orchestra, arguably the world’s longest-running and most talented all-female large jazz ensemble. The trio’s debut album I Love to See You Smile is streaming at Bandcamp This is jazz as entertainment. All three musicians are colorful players and have an infectious good time with a mix of standards and originals, whether they’re throwing devious quotes and jokes both subtle and broad into the mix, or chewing the scenery. For people who might be looking for genteel, unobtrusive wine-hour jazz, this is definitely not it.

The title track echoes the style of another pioneering, underrated woman artist, Bertha Hope, with pianist Jackie Warren’s jaunty, joyous ragtime-inflected flourishes echoed by drummer Sherrie Maricle, bassist Amy Shook having similar fun toying with the melody when it comes to her punchy solo. Throughout the record, Maricle gets to cut loose a lot more than she does with the big band and indulges her inner Elvin Jones – and inner vaudeville star – more than you might expect, with irresistible results.

How do they tackle the ostensibly most-recorded song of alltime, Besame Mucho? Warren gives it a glistening, solo neoromantic intro, then the trio completely flip the script and take it bouncing to Bahia.

Shook carries the looming, deadpan melody line against Warren’s blend of gospel and ragtime in Moonglow, up to a series of jokes that are too good to give away.

The band reinvent Back at the Chicken Shack as a hard-swinging jump blues, Warren’s trills and upper-register stabs sending a shout back to Jimmy Smith. The trio’s broodingly Lynchian clave intro to Angel Eyes is a real shock to the system, then Warren slowly swings it into much sunnier, sagely blues-infused terrain.

Recado Bossa Nova has a persistent, darkly restless quality over a spring-loaded pulse, up to a a spare, incisive solo from Shook and an unexpectedly misterioso, surfy one from Maricle. They make increasingly un-sedate wee-hours saloon blues out of an old Irish ballad with When You and I Were Young, Maggie, and close the record with the racewalking swing of L.O.V.E. Never a dull moment with this crew.

Ferociously Funny, Politically-Fueled Americana Rock From Esquela

In a crowded pack of Americana bands, Esquela distinguish themselves with their ferocious, often hilarious, fearlessly political lyrics and high-voltage guy/girl vocals. With New York under a draconian lockdown last summer and most studios officially shuttered, the group joined the legions of artists making albums over the web to record their latest one, A Sign From God, streaming at Bandcamp. Credit producer and multi-instrumentalist Eric “Roscoe” Ambel for piecing together individual tracks culled from very diverse sonic environments and somehow finding a way to make them sound like a cohesive group effort.

The opening number, Not in My Backyard sets the stage for the rest of the record. “Hydrofracking is a swear word, nuclear power is for the birds, guess we better burn some trees,” John “Chico” Finn and Becca Frame cynically observe over Ambel’s growling guitars and the steady four-on-the-floor drive from bassist Keith Christopher and drummer Mike Ricciardi.

Frame brings the lights down in Oradura, a grim account of the Nazi massacre of the French village of Oradour Sur Glane in 1944. With the smoldering intertwine of Brian Shafer and Matt Woodin’s guitars, it could be the Walkabouts: it’s the best song on the album.

With a lickety-split Shafer guitar solo and a ridiculously funny bridge, Rest of My Life offers two…um…individual perceptions of a one-night stand. Woodin and Shafer take turns with tantalizingly twangy solos in Give Ups, about a woman with distinctive taste in outerwear. Frame returns to the mic as the band get serious again, with 1861: in the current era of unprecedented divide-and-conquer, this Civil War parable really packs a wallop.

Ambel adds honkytonk-flavored lapsteel in Three Finger Joe, a cynical tale of casual redneck bigotry. Set to a snarling mix of Ambel guitar multitracks, First World Problems might the funniest song ever written about American exceptionalism. Together Finn and Frame chronicle the kind of devastating issues we have to cope with every day: our favorite teams finish last, the wifi acts up, we lose our phones, and country radio sucks. The joke at the end is way too good to spoil.

Rob Arthur guests on organ in What’s Your Problem, a snide account of white entitlement that brings to mind a big Dream Syndicate hit, right down to the opening Ambel guitar riff. Finn chronicles pioneer days in upstate New York over Ambel’s keening slide guitar in Two Stones. The band close the album with Wait For Me, Frame’s gorgeously chiming, haunting setting of a World War II poem by Russian soldier Konstantin Simonov. It’s been a slow year for rock records; count this as one of the best of the bunch so far.

Frigging in the Rigging With the Kings Pond Shantymen

Louis was the King of France before the Revolution
And he got his head chopped off and spoiled his constitution

That’s from the old sea shanty Haul Away Joe, the second track on the Kings Pond Shantymen‘s new album Take a Turn Around the Capstan, streaming at Spotify. The name of the record is actually not a 1970s reference: before the age of cassettes, a capstan was a rope-winding spool typically found onboard ships. This nine-piece group are a throwback to the era of the original device. This is a fun singalong record.

Once in a blue moon a publicist’s press release perfectly nails what a group are all about. “The Kings Pond Shantymen sing out mainly in Hampshire and West Surrey, England. They perform shanties and other seafaring songs, interspersed with a few drinking songs and odd ditties. At Christmas they also sing carols and on Old Twelfth Night they sing wassailing songs. They aim for an authentic shanty style – unaccompanied male voices singing in harmony – on a good day. Folk style nose-singing or ear-fingering is actively repressed and barbershop perfection is certainly not their aim. What they like is to sing and drink a pint or two of beer, but not at the same time as it tends to waste the beer.”

There are eighteen tracks on the album. Most of the nine men in this merry crew eventually take a turn out in front. The material runs the gamut from bawdy drinking songs, to cynical work songs, a morose Irish ballad, and a hilarious number about basically shoveling shit on the high seas.

You might recognize a few of these tunes from later Appalachian folk versions. Otherwise, the material isn’t just the same old standards everybody knows. The most obvious number here is What Shall We Do With a Drunken Sailor, but the group put their own devious stamp on it. If you listen closely, there’s a lot of history on this record.

A dollar a day is a hoosier’s pay
Roll the cotton down!
And screw four more is what they say
Roll the cotton down!

A note to American readers: the Shantymen presumably do not live in a one-room shack, they just use the British spelling. Here on this side of the pond we typically use the more pretentiously spelled “chantey,” which comes from the French “chanter,” meaning “to sing.”

Angela’s Ring: A Witheringly Funny, Unexpectedly Prophetic Satire of EU Political Skulduggery

One of the most original and savagely insightful new albums to come out since the fateful days of March, 2020 is Angela’s Ring, a large-ensemble jazz opera written by bassist Kabir Sehgal and pianist Marie Incontrera, streaming at Spotify. Premiered before the lockdown, it’s a meticulously researched, venomously satirical look at the inner workings of the European Union, focusing on the admission of Greece and the nation’s precipitous decline afterward. As context for the lockdowners’ almost complete takedown of democracy around the world, it’s eye-opening to the extreme.

It’s more a story of political corruption gone haywire than any kind of examination of the sinister International Monetary Fund scheme to cripple the Greek economy with debt and devastate its citizenry. And it’s ridiculously funny. EU heads of state come across as decadent fratboys and sorority girls who never grew up and live in a bubble. If there’s anything that’s missing here – Sehgal has obviously done his homework – it’s the point of view of the average European. For instance, we only get a single number about the Greeks who’ve lost their property, their jobs and in some cases, their lives, to satisfy speculator greed.

The Leveraged Jazz Orchestra spoof Beethoven right off the bat in the suspiciously blithe overture, launching a Western European alternative to nationalist strife that left “a hundred million dead” over the centuries, as German dictator Angela Merkel (Lucy Schaufer) puts it. She is, after all, prone to exaggeration. And then she seduces the wary but bibulous George Papandreou (David Gordon) on a waterbed over a sultry, altered tango groove. Meanwhile, he frets how long it’s going to take the rest of the EU to find out that he’s cooked the books.

It takes IMF honcho Christine Lagarde (a hair-raising Marnie Breckinridge) to rescue him…but this deus ex machina comes with a hefty pricetag. A shady, crude Silvio Berlusconi (Brandon Snook) tells him not to worry, that Italy is in over its head even deeper, so…party time! With a monumental Napoleon complex, France’s subservient Nicolas Sarkozy (Erik Bagger) gets skewered just as deliciously. “Democracy isn’t your natural state,” he tells Merkel at a pivotal moment.

A hedge fund manager suggests a joust between Merkel and Papandreou, with Lagarde as referee. Who wins? No spoilers.

The music is inventive and imaginative, a mashup of styles from across the Continent, from folk to classical to jazz. Who would have ever imagined a celebratory Greek ballad played on Edmar Castaneda’s harp? That’s one of the more cynical interludes here. There’s also a slinky, smoky baritone sax break after Greece’s debt gets downgraded to junk by traders hell-bent on shorting it. Tenor sax player Grace Kelly adds suspicious exuberance; trombonist Papo Vazquez takes a moody break in a salsa-jazz number where Merkel’s treachery finally comes out into the open. Clarinetist Oran Etkin’s agitatedly sailing solo in an even darker latin-tinged number is one of the record’s high points, as is pianist Aaron Diehl’s similar interlude a couple of tracks later.

Ultimately, this is a cautionary tale. If you think this is outrageous and revealing – and it is – just wait til the collapse of the lockdown, the Nuremberg trials afterward, and the likely dissolution of the EU. Maybe Sehgal can write a sequel.