Listen & Be Heard Weekly Archives

Consider J. Alfred Prufrock not as a fictional character from a T.S. Eliot poem but as a CD reviewer. Let us go then, you and I, and make our way through this spring cleaning of recently purchased CDs for review, using Prufrock’s narrative from his one and only love song to describe other music. Who better qualified, after all, than someone who heard the mermaids singing? Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.*

“Ash Wednesday” by Elvis Perkins (XL Records): Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous– Almost, at times, the Fool.

“Mercerenary” by Dr. John (Blue Note Records): And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor— And this, and so much more?– It is impossible to say just what I mean!

“Stoa” by Nik Bartsch’s Ronin (ECM Records): And indeed there will be time To wonder, “Do I care?” and, “Do I dare?”

“Kicking Television: Live In Chicago” by Wilco (Nonesuch Records): The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question… Oh, do not ask, “What is it?” Let us go and make our visit.

“No Bad Talk Or Loud Talk 1977-‘81” by Joe Ely (Edsel Records): For I have known them all already, known them all– Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume?

“Fire Of Love” by The Gun Club (Slash Records) Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea.

“Red” by Black Uhuru (Mango Records): Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?

“Live At The Regal” by B.B. King (MCA Records): The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes, Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, And seeing that it was a soft October night, Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

*(Translation: “without fear of infamy I answer you.”)

All recordings listed are currently in print and are available at most record stores and various Internet websites, where the women come and go, talking of Michelangelo.