The Bohemian Mooney
Named after a Dublin pub The Bohemian Mooney is the Irish singer and guitarist’s bluesy second album following All My Love’s In Vain back in 2005. Nearly four years in the can the new record features a core band of pianist Johnny Taylor, bassist Dan Bodwell and drummer Dominic Mullan, and guests include the great Georgie Fame on a couple of tracks and the Irish jazz icon Louis Stewart who plays rhythm guitar on three tracks.
Mooney has a warm authentic blues and soul voice, think James Hunter a bit, a dash of Van Morrison here and there, and Brother Ray of course, and plays the guitar like Kenny Burrell at times. It’s old fashioned jazz blues with some Mooney originals, some Ray Charles (a swinging ‘Ain’t That Love’ a highlight), standards in ‘April in Paris’ for instance, and a traditional blues thrown in for good measure with Robert Johnson’s ‘Hellhound on my Trail’ superbly done.
‘Hard Times’ is the first great interpretation here, five songs in, after some enjoyable scene-setting with Georgie and Louis on ‘Down for Double’, Basie guitarist Freddie Green’s song that Mel Tormé put words to. ‘April in Paris’ is a bit cheesier with glossy horns but there’s a good swing shuffle from Mullan and Mooney croons a bit which he doesn’t really do anywhere else on the album.
Arranged and produced by Mooney the title track has a really catchy guitar opening line (recalling the tune of ‘It Ain’t Necessarily So’) that moves more into Grant Green territory after a while and bassist Bodwell rises to the occasion sounding a bit like that fine player David Hayes. ‘Bohemian Moondance’ joins the dots between the opening fast take on ‘Milestones’ and Van Morrison’s ‘Moondance’ with plenty of improvising along the way. Infectious stuff with a lot of spirit, and that’s not just the gin and dry vermouth. SG
The cover of The Bohemian Mooney top and Nigel Mooney above
Released on 27 May
Melt Yourself Down
Melt Yourself Down
This is disappointing. It just has nowhere to go. Fizzing with energy but within the confines of a small musical structure trying to be a commercial dance record (maybe the remix will be better!), it beats at the walls but the walls simply won’t give. Ruth Goller’s bass guitar is gutsy enough on the opener ‘Fix My Life’ but the vocals of Kushal Gaya sound so processed and it’s not dangerous enough or as inventive as say Sons of Kemet, another band drummer Tom Skinner’s currently a member of. Pete Wareham has been searching for a way to reinvent himself since the curious decision to close down the much better Acoustic Ladyland and he’s moved completely away from conventional jazz and more into the arms of one of his big influences James Chance, mixing punk-funk with Afro flavours. The band seem to stall no matter how hard Tom Skinner pushes, and even Shabaka Hutchings sounds as if he’s being held back. Transglobal Underground’s Satin Singh adds some interest on percussion, but these eight pent-up tracks refuse to catch: the material just isn’t strong enough. Stephen Graham
When Tommy Smith was starting out, and a student at Berklee in Boston, the young saxophonist was part of a band called Forward Motion. The pianist in the band, Laszlo Gardony, a Hungarian-American has made many records since but retains the link to Smith’s alma mater, as since the 1980s the professor has taught at Berklee. Clarity is an unusual, and quite brave, album. He says in the notes: “I was at my Berklee studio all by myself. I felt a burst of inspiration so I set up some mics, turned on a recorder and started playing. I kept playing for 49 minutes.” Each short piece, he explains, took on from the previous one but he put the recording away; and not until a few months later would he listen to what he had performed last year. The resulting album, so much for months spent in the studio and an eternity in post-production, is probably best compared with earlier solo piano album Changing Standards (1990), the originals here the yin to the yang of the evergreen tunes back then. Despite the passage of time and difference in method the two compare very well: Gardony’s approach is muscular but quite passionate, and it’s from the fourth track, ‘Working Through (Clarity)’, that the music really begins to speak. It’s a kind of Gnostic meditation in the manner of Keith Jarrett (and track six, ‘Better Place’, is very Jarrettian) but with a few bravura twists, quite a lot of folk music, even gospel, but oddly very little bebop. Occasionally this very spontaneous set sags, but not for long, and is as honest an album as you’ll come across. That transparency is its strength and appeal, as well as a natural improviser’s flair at play.
Released in May.
The cover of Clarity, above