Untitled Document
When it comes to death, most sane people would prefer
to put it off for as long as possible. As Dylan Thomas famously advised,
“Do not go gentle into that good night/Old age should burn and rave
at close of day/Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” Guy
Blakeslee, whose nom de rock is Entrance, takes the opposite view. Prayer of Death, Blakeslee’s
third full-length, rushes headlong into death’s black maw and revels
in its toxic spittle. “That old grim reaper, baby, he’s a
friend of mine,” he boasts on the opening track. “Twenty-four
years old now, baby, and I don’t mind dyin’.” Yeah,
it’s probably just a bunch of big talk from a guy who’d no
doubt plead for his life if a crazed gunman ever accosted him, but as an
artistic conceit it does the trick. With cues taken from the Tibetan Book of the Dead, Prayer of Death is a dark
phantasmagoria of feral electric blues, churning psychedelia, and
otherworldly world music. Shrouded in grimy atmospherics and monstrous
reverb, Blakeslee’s trademark guitar heroics sound deliciously evil,
a quality that’s further enhanced by co-producer Paz
Lenchantin’s (Zwan, A Perfect Circle) gypsy violin and death-rattle
bass lines. For the sitar-centered instrumental “Requiem for Sandy
Bull (R.I.P.),” the band creates a kind of crepuscular raga-boogie,
paying tribute to the late electric guitar/oud visionary without specifically aping him. “Grim
Reaper Blues” and “Lost in the Dark” have a more
explicitly hard-rock feel, with chooglin’ rhythms and harsh
in-the-red vocals that split the difference between Led Zeppelin and the
Jesus and Mary Chain. Although Blakeslee’s strained tenor and
occasionally dopey lyrics verge on the parodic at times (“Silence on
a Crowded Train”), prodigious skills as a guitarist — Blakeslee
is a self-taught left-handed player who uses a standard guitar turned the
other way, as did his hero, Jimi Hendrix — are usually enough to
redeem him. The lurid dirge “Pretty Baby” features an amazing pas de deux between his
overdubbed guitar and Lenchantin’s violin, each instrument refracting
the other in a kaleidoscope of tones and patterns, and the title
track’s lovely finger-picking proves that Blakeslee is still capable
of pulling off a relatively straightforward take on acoustic prewar blues
when he wants to. But even buried under piles of sludge his riffs ring out
with a vital incandescence, irradiating the gloom with an irresistible life
force. For a corpse-hugging white boy, he’s got no shortage of soul.
If there’s anything more off-putting to the
average person than avant-garde jazz, it’s advanced mathematics. Codebook, Rudresh
Mahanthappa’s second album, is rooted in both disciplines. Inspired
by British science writer Simon Singh’s The
Code Book, the NYC-based alto saxophonist
crafted nine pieces that apply concepts taken from cryptography and number
theory to the compositional process, deriving new melodies and rhythms from
extramusical methods. Supported by pianist and frequent collaborator Vijay
Iyer, acoustic bassist François Moutin, and drummer Dan Weiss,
Mahanthappa makes music that’s harmonically and structurally complex
yet still satisfying on a purely sensuous plane. His sharp, somewhat
brittle tone is equally suited to the frenetic flurry of “The
Decider” and the lyrical, vaguely Indian-sounding post-bop balladry
of “My Sweetest.” The ultra-clever “Play It Again
Sam,” dedicated to Sam Morse, finds the band members spelling out
their names in rhythmic dots and dashes, and “Frontburner” is
an enciphered homage to John Coltrane’s classic “Giant
Steps.” If this all sounds a little too cerebral for your tastes, not
to worry: You don’t need to be a math geek to crack these codes. Free
your ears, and your brain will follow.
Contact René
Spencer Saller at rssaller@core.com.
This article appears in Jan 4-10, 2007.
