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© St. Petersburg Times, published November 3, 2002
TAHITI 80, WALLPAPER FOR THE SOUL (MINTY FRESH) Two years ago, Tahiti 80 came out of nowhere (more specifically, France) to unleash their debut album Puzzle, a beguiling valentine for pop obsessives who believe the greatest music in the history of the world came out of England, circa 1964 to 1967.
Those British Invasion (and later Britpop) influences are still evident on Tahiti 80's follow-up, Wallpaper for the Soul. But this time the four Parisians expand their musical reference points a bit, never wavering in their quest to deliver the same delirious sugar highs their idols served up time and again. Unfortunately, Wallpaper misses the mark more often than the debut. But the better moments are fine indeed. On 1,000 Times, the band does Philly soul filtered through Everything But The Girl. The brass accents on Separate Ways recall early Chicago. And Get Yourself Together sounds like the Smiths fused with Brian Wilson.
If this game of spot-the-influence seems a bit tedious, it's also the whole point of Tahiti 80's music, which is as much about celebrating pop music as it is about making it. As ever, the band offers nary an original idea and frontman Xavier Boyer's lyrical insights remain as deep as your average puddle. Who cares? When the band manages to come up with a song that matches its pure-pop ambitions, the results can be transporting. Here's hoping they improve their batting average next time out. B-
-- LOUIS HAU, Times staff writer
KINDRED SPIRITS: A TRIBUTE TO THE SONGS OF JOHNNY CASH (SONY NASHVILLE) A startling moment comes in the middle of a song on Rodney Crowell's recent Houston Kid CD; Crowell's pleasant tenor gives way to the basso-profundo rumble of Johnny Cash. The first time you hear it, you're convinced the vengeful, wrathful voice of God has invaded your speakers, and you glance into the yard to make sure no bushes are burning. Even after repeated listenings, Cash's mid-song interjection packs a physical jolt, like catching a glimpse of a lost lover on a crowded sidewalk.
Unfortunately, much of Kindred Spirits: A Tribute to the Songs of Johnny Cash has the opposite effect. Imagine the letdown of hearing the familiar opening chords of I Walk the Line or Big River and then getting Travis Tritt or Hank Williams Jr. offering a campy imitation of the Man in Black. Ten thousand country bars in America can match that lame act.
Performers who could stand toe-to-toe with Cash mail it in instead. Bob Dylan mumbles a desultory Train of Love. Terminally earnest Bruce Springsteen plods through a coma-inducing Give My Love to Rose. It would have been better to include a few less marketable musicologists, such as Crowell (who once played Ben Stiller to Cash's Robert DeNiro) or NRBQ, which loves and understands Cash's music.
A few performances do Johnny proud. Dwight Yoakam sounds dangerous on Understand Your Man. Cash crony Marty Stuart, who produced most of this tribute, barrels through Hey Porter. The stalwart Emmylou Harris gets fine help from Mary Chapin Carpenter and Sheryl Crow on Flesh and Blood.
Most of the songs avoid being killed with kindness. The project, for all its missteps, has the effect of proving that Cash's songwriting has depth and range that transcend his unique voice and persona.
As for that voice, it appears once, at the end, and it sounds less like the thunder of God than the quaver of a mortal man looking down the barrel of mortality. It, too, manages to make most of the voices that precede it sound slightly silly by comparison. B
-- ROBERT FRIEDMAN, Times staff writer
SOULIVE, GET DOWN! (VELOUR) A few short years before Soulive stoked the crowds at the Bonnaroo Music Festival in Tennessee, played intoxicating sets in New Orleans during Jazz Fest week, collaborated with John Scofield and Dave Matthews, and trotted the globe, the group's three founding members got together and recorded on a whim.
The results are heard on the first five tracks of Get Down!, released on the band's own label in 1999 and now widely available on Velour. The disc augments material from an impromptu March 1999 session at the Woodstock, N.Y.-area home studio of drummer Alan Evans and B-3 organist Neal Evans, his brother, with two tracks recorded live three months later at the Izzy Bar in Manhattan. The bonus cuts were culled from audience tapes.
The sound, courtesy of a pair of mikes and an ADAT machine (and whatever the fans used for the concert recordings), isn't as full or rich as what's heard on the group's Velour debut or Blue Note releases. But Get Down! does demonstrate how potent these musicians' chemistry has been from the start: The mojo exhibited by Alan Evans (ex-Greyboy Allstars), Neal (former Jaki Byard student) and Eric Krasno (ex-Lettuce) was evident from day one.
The CD also offers glimpses of early versions of favorite tunes reborn on subsequent releases. So Live! is appealing start-and-stop riffing and rolling grooves. Uncle Junior is deep-funk blues with a catchy guitar/organ melody. And Cash's Dream feels like vintage R&B spiked with jazzy twists and interludes. Live, during the summer of 1999, Soulive was even more tight and righteous, as evidenced by the extended funk meltdowns Brother Soul and Right On.
Soulive mixes organ-trio jazz in the mold of Jimmy Smith, Brother Jack McDuff and Jimmy McGriff with fresh funk and hip-hop grooves, and it ties everything together with sophisticated arrangements. The music may not be revolutionary, but it's fresh-sounding, and it has been viable from the beginning. Groovealicious. B-plus
-- PHILIP BOOTH, Times staff writer