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<I>Hemispheres</I>, the new two-CD album by guitarists Jim Hall and Bill Frisell, is the year’s first jazz masterpiece, a work of spontaneous lyricism as glittering and joyful as anything either has recorded (and, given their histories, that’s saying a lot). Hall, who’s 78, and Frisell, who’s 57 and something of a protg, both have a tendency toward doodling when they’re not anchored by a rhythm section. But Disc One—10 tracks of barebones duets (including Milt Jackson’s “Bags’ Groove,” Bob Dylan’s “Masters of War,” Hall’s anthemic “Bimini,” and several pure improvs)—are loose-limbered and air tight, the two trading harmony and melody, then merging the strands to the point where it’s unclear who’s playing what but it meshes and sings all the same. Disc Two—10 more tracks, mainly standards (“I’ll Remember April,” “Chelsea Bridge,” “My Funny Valentine,” “In a Sentimental Mood”), the guitarists joined by Scott Colley on bass and Joey Baron on drums—is no less free-spirited. Colley and Baron, who have played as sideman to both as well as many others, aren’t the sort to lay down rhythmic law; they splash color and weave textures along the leaders’ sinuous lines.

How great was it to hear all the music at the inaugural. Maybe music and the arts will once again be valued in the country. Maybe someone else than right wing country singers can get a tune in edgewise.

Michael Fremer:

On Sonic Youth's 1992 album, <i>Dirty</i>, there is a song called "Youth Against Fascism," in which Thurston Moore lists a series of difficult political themes (racial violence, a poor economy, a lousy president, etc.) and follows each item with the refrain:

The Internet has been a boon to buyers and sellers of used audio components. Reader Mark Lemelin wonders whether you mostly buy used gear, or do you buy new equipment on the Web?

When I was younger, in my teens and early twenties, it happened all the time. On a whim, I'd go out to a small rock venue, and be absolutely shocked, ignited, <i>devastated</i> by some young, unknown band. Afterwards, I was always too shy to speak to the musicians, but, if I had any extra cash on me, I'd be sure to head to the merch' table and pick up a demo, maybe even buy a button or t-shirt. The feeling was as intoxicating and brilliant as New York City's snow-covered streets on a sunny winter day. This band was now <i>yours</i> to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, from this day forward, or until they signed to a major label.

At the end of every CES, we struggle to find the underlying themes that bind the show to the industry and the world at large. The overwhelming theme this year was the economy. Attendance was down—the official estimate was 10% off of last year's, but everyone I spoke with snorted in derision at that figure.