Kirk Elliott, Up From the Ground (Marshmellow, 2005)
Harry Manx, Mantras For Madmen (Dog My Cat, 2005)
Don Rooke, Atlas Travel (Black Hen Music, 2005)
These three new recordings by Canadian guitar players give ample evidence that the acoustic guitar is still one of the most emotive, vibrant instruments available. Each album features comments on the package. These quotes range from Kirk Elliott's song-by-song description to Don Rooke's statement of purpose, and Harry Manx's simple observation, "The way I see it, Blues is like the earth and Indian music is like the heavens. What I do is find the balance between the two." Balance is something we all seek to achieve. From walking, to riding a bicycle, to maintaining relationships, it's an important element in every part of our life. Each of these three musicians has his own way of finding balance.
Harry Manx plays an instrument called the mohan veena (a sort of cross between a guitar and a sitar, played lap-style) but he also uses standard six-string guitars, other lap-style guitars, the tamboura and even the banjo. His is the only album of the three which features vocals, and so might disqualify itself from this trio, but rest assured, Mantras For Madmen is very much about guitar playing.
Ten of the 12 tracks are Manx compositions, bluesy structures with plenty of room for his raga-like improvisations. Although he is ably supported by John Reischman (mandolin), Geoff Hicks (drums & percussion), Billy Medoza (bass), Niel Golden (tabla, hang, bells), and Steve Marriner (harmonica), this is very much Harry Manx's album. His gentle voice almost whispers the lyrics, which are thoughtful, often sad, over quietly solid support. Reischman shows his virtuosity on a nice solo during "Never The Twain." Backing vocals from Emily Braden, Linda Kidder, Joani Bye and Helen Davis are almost angelic. The sympathetic strings of the mohan veena place the songs (like "A Single Spark") in a virtual world, somewhere between heaven and earth, just as Manx claims. And when the groove sets in, and Manx's slide playing slurs the boundaries, the listener is transported . . . to where? Hard to say.
His cover of J.J.Cale's "Tijuana" (here called "San Diego-Tijuana") is other-worldly. And the Robbie Robertson classic "It Makes No Difference" is given an exotic setting by Manx's banjo playing and Reischman's mandolin. Again, the backing singers add a magical touch. This is a quiet but exquisite album, beautifully played and warmly recorded.
Don Rooke is the guitar player for a Toronto band called The Henrys. Atlas Travel is his first solo album, and it provides an easy transition from the world of Harry Manx. Rooke plays a Style 3 Kona guitar, an acoustic slide guitar made of Hawaiian koa wood originally manufactured by California luthier Herman Weissenborn in the 1920s. It's played on the lap and fretted by a steel bar. And, like Manx, Rooke creates music from other places.
He insists (in the liner notes) that "this is not a world music record. Think of a person sitting at home in the evening studying a book of maps. If he tries to imagine music to suit whatever obscure place he discovers, chances are the sounds he hears in his head will not replicate anything authentic. (At least they wouldn't in my head.) This is the basic idea for these songs -- to suggest a faraway place without knowing anything about it." Hence the name Atlas Travel.
Each song is titled after a place Rooke discovered in his atlas. "Nueva Laredo," "Palma de Mallorca," "Alexandria," "Donegal Bay," and so on. And each song seeks to take the listener on a journey. In imagination. It's a challenging concept. Does it work? It did for me.
I didn't check the titles until I was more familiar with the music, so I was able to travel to different places than Rooke intended. I listened to this CD as one long piece, broken into movements. Movements of Rooke's finger on the maps in his atlas; movements of Rooke's musical imagination as he contemplated the places he had discovered; movements of my own mind as I imposed my own experiences and imagination as I listened.
Like Manx's music, this is quiet and contemplative stuff. Rooke surrounds himself with sympathetic players, like Hugh Marsh who adds violin to "Donegal Bay." There was no mistaking the "Irishness" of this one. Johan Hedin plays the nyckelharpa on several tracks. The nyckelharpa is a Swedish keyed violin which has both melody and drone strings, and is played with a short bow. It adds a unique complement to Rooke's kona guitar, and seems to fit in very different countries than Sweden. Look for it in "Palma de Mallorca," "Little Alpold, Hungary," "Most, Czech Republic," and "62N 103E Siberia." But others join in too: George Koller on string bass, Jorn Andersen on percussion, Michael White on trumpet and more. But like the Manx CD, the guitar sounds of Don Rooke are the featured instrument.
Rooke is a precise and evocative player -- his steel finds the note. His arrangements are open and airy. This is music to think by, to hold an atlas open on your lap and dream by. Wonderful.
The third album is described as "a colourful collection of thought provoking music featuring classical and steel string guitar along with mandolin, dulcimer, harmonica, accordion, autoharp, cittern, keyboards, electric and acoustic bass and percussion." It sounds so dry described like that. Kirk Elliott's own liner notes are much more entertaining, and his playing is superb. Oh, by the way, he plays all the instruments in that list except for harmonica (Carlos del Junco), bass (Garth Vogan and Pat Collins), and drums (Steve Heathcote and Rick Gratton). He is also joined by Grant Slater on Hammond B3 and Don Rooke on Dobro.
The music here is a bit less obscure and exotic than that on the Rooke and Manx CDs, but it is every bit as interesting and well played. Elliott provides notes on each track to give the listener a way in. Up > From the Ground is both the album title and the first song. "All good things come from the ground," Elliott says, "--things to eat, water to drink, trees to make instruments from. All those endangered things." And there's an earthy quality to the music. Elliott's rhythmic guitar playing, the solid rhythm section, overlaid with del Junco's bluesy harmonica, and a touch of Rooke's slide. Very tasty.
"Papagayo Cowgirl" describes a trip to Costa Rica. "'Let's go horseback riding on the beach,' said Donna . . . I was given a sleepy old nag named Dolce (which means comatose in Spanish.) Donna's horse was Camarao or Firebird, maybe. After plodding through the backwoods, Dolce lingering as if at an all-you-can-eat salad bar, we hit the beach, where Donna metamorphosed into some kind of Amazon and streaked across the sands at about warp 9. Inspired by such an equestrian display, I spurred Dolce onwards to the lobby for a margarita or two." The music tells the story. Try to imagine it!
Kirk Elliott's album is more mainstream, not as abstract as Manx or Rooke, and yet it feels very much a companion to the others. Again, the recording is luscious. You cannot ask for better duplication of sound than these three CDs provide. The guitars are in the room with you. It's a bonus when the playing is as good as the sound, and Harry Manx, Don Rooke and Kirk Elliott have no problems with technique or feel.
A trio of thoughtful, melodic, inventive albums, each featuring acoustic guitars on a journey of discovery and imagination.
