Said the Gramophone

0 is the Number of Things That Are Not Themselves

Kaki King - "Can The Gwot Save Us?"

My interest in Kaki King was piqued by a young physicist named Darren. He recommended her song "Night After Sidewalk," and described her as a "more proficient David Pajo." Being a gumshoe by nature, I investigated.

One reviewer described Kaki King's music as "somewhere between funk and flamenco." Now, if you're disgusted by the very thought of such a music, fret not; I'm doubly disgusted. When Kaki King treads "somewhere between funk and flamenco" (and sometimes she does), she treads on dangerous and barren ground, and we needn't accompany her. But here, as on "Night After Sidewalk," she takes advantage of the considerable potential power of solo acoustic guitar music. We hear her fingers depress and pluck, their calloused tips against coarse metal strings. We hear her slow down and speed up, draw out and cut short, her timing unregulated by a band and her emotion unmitigated by the strictures of the pop song. [Buy]

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Robert Charlebois - "Dolores"

Here's what I see when I hear "Dolores":

Porcelain beer steins, of course, and old dark wood. I see big billowing women in denim dresses with white skin and pink cheeks, dancing and smiling. I see skinny old men with combovers fiddling until their fiddles combust. Overalls catching fire, bottles of alcohol exploding on shelves. I see a consuming conflagration. The roof burns away, revealing a blue sky and the sun. The fire dies down. At 3:40 I see what Robert Charlebois sees: a little bird. Men in burnt tatters picking up their smoking violins, the party beginning anew. [Buy]