Local
Grooves
John
O'Brien
Real Life (self-released)
Just when the art, or act, of "keeping it real" seems like
an obligatory exercise, along comes John O'Brien with his humbly proffered,
tastefully wrought, and often pleasing pop. Do his lyrics of missed
connections, Prozac, and teenage boys who start fights give up the real
poop? Is "sincerity" a pose like any other? You stop sweating
the accuracy of the details during the most memorable moments on the
San Francisco singer-songwriter's second CD, Real Life (the Greil
Marcus-approved "Elvis' Boys," the wistful piano bar remnant
"High Wire," and the slowing unfolding character portrait
"Julius"). There are aberrations in this otherwise amiable
collection: the jarringly honky-tonk "Bottle on the Table (Prozac),"
the unnerving, ebullient rocker "Ghost Projection Machine,"
and the drippy "Doc Marten Dreams." That one tugs a little
too hard on the heartstrings, as O'Brien makes a direct play
for sympathy while singing from the viewpoint of a character who dutifully
takes his meds and watches MTV all night. And since we're on the subject,
allow me to get real: at the risk of losing any chance I'd have of ever
attending medical school, I'd suggest O'Brien toss the antidepressants,
reject the too-perfect production and the more negligible 4/4 pseudo-upbeat
numbers, and plunge deeper into the darkness flitting around the ballads.
Embrace your inner mope. John O'Brien performs at a CD-release party
Mon/30, Make-Out Room, S.F. (415) 647-2888. (Kimberly Chun)
Taj Mahal and the Hula Blues
Hanapepe Dream
(Tone-Cool)
Having delved into '50s and '60s R&B for much of the past decade, Taj
Mahal takes a radical left turn with Hanapepe Dream and lands
smack-dab in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. It's a logical move for
the ever eclectic musician, however, as he's called Hawaii a
part-time home since the early '80s. The disc at times sounds more Caribbean
than Hawaiian, particularly on reggae readings of "Black Jack Davy"
and Richie Havens's "African Herbsman," but a tropical flavor
permeates the whole affair. Steel and slack-key guitars intertwine with
ukuleles, standup bass, and trap drums – with longtime Taj cohort
Rudy Costa weaving jazz lines on flute, clarinet, and alto sax around
the leader's invitingly gruff vocals – on original tunes and reworkings
of such old favorites as "Stagger Lee," Mississippi John Hurt's
"My Creole Belle," and Bob Dylan's "All along the Watchtower."
Having long ago adopted the African American songster tradition of the
South, Taj now has added the lilting melodies and loping rhythms of
the 50th state to his roots recipe. The result is as sweet, tart, and
American as pineapple pie. Taj Mahal and the Hula Blues play Fri/27,
Fillmore, S.F. (415) 371-5500. (Lee Hildebrand)
