Fred Kaplan

Has John Zorn gone mellow? His two new CDs, <I>The Dreamers</I> and <I>Lucifer</I> (both on his self-owned label, Tzadik), are swaying, swinging, crazy with catchy hooks, occasionally downright mellifluous. I don’t mean to overstate the contrast with the preceding Zorn <I>oeuvre</I> (which entails over a hundred albums, at least a thousand compositions). The time has long passed when Zorn—whose name is, almost novelistically, German for “anger”—gained notoriety for squealing on the alto sax like a banshee and cutting up compositions into surreal collage. The stereotype was never right: from the start of his career, in the mid-‘70s, he could play be-bop, Hammond-based soul, and Morricone movie-themes at a high level. But in the ‘80s, he delved more avidly into ear-ripping shards-of-sound (with fitting titles like <I>Torture Garden</I> and <I>Grind Crusher</I>). When he turned to exploring chords and melodies in the ‘90s, he didn’t abandon “noise” entirely; several of his great Masada albums alternate between blues or ballads and rippers. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Up to a point, I liked that stuff, too. But these two new CDs have almost none of it. They’re jammed with buoyant, playful, joyous music—and I mean that in a good way.

Personally, I think Pink Floyd should do a reunion tour simply because <A HREF="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/7374994.stm">this</A&gt; would make a fabulous concept album.

Swiss Precision: The Story of the Thorens TD 124 and Other Classic Turntables
Swiss Precision: The Story of the Thorens TD 124 and Other Classic Turntables
by Joachim Bung. Published by Joachim and Angelika Bung, Schmitten, Germany (info@td-124.de), 2008. Hardcover, 288 pages, four-color, ISBN 978-3-00-021162-1. Price: €59 plus overseas mailing.

I'm happy to say that this terribly grey day has turned suddenly bright and blue. And with sun in our eyes, so that we have to squint a bit, I invite you to join me on a short trip back to January 2003.

Dusting is boring and makes me sneeze, so I had been putting it off. I don't know how many months and months had passed. It had been awhile. In fact, to an outside observer, it might have appeared as though I was trying to determine just how much dust I could collect on my bookcases. It was even starting to bother me. My bookcases no longer boasted their cheap cherry shine, but had taken on a soft, sickly grey. This weekend, I figured it was time.

Has the <A HREF="http://www.stereophile.com/turntables/1103linn/">Linn Sondek LP12 turntable</A> really been around for 35 years? Yes, <A HREF="http://www.stereophile.com/interviews/1101ivor/">Ivor Tiefenbrun MBE</A>, founder and Chairman of Linn Products, asserts. Moreover, Tiefenbrun asserts, the revolutionary aspect of that 'table was not simply that it worked "simply better," but that it was designed to be "modular, upgradeable, and expandable in accordance with our continuous improvement philosophy. That is what 'simply better' means. It is not an assertive statement of superiority but an aspirational motto defining our objective as simplifying and improving everything that we do."

Friday night, I went to the 55 Bar—one of several small, inviting, low-to-no-cover jazz clubs in New York City’s West Village—to hear Kendra Shank sing in celebration of her (improbably) 50th birthday. Audiophiles will recall Shank’s mid’90s album, <I>Afterglow</I> (on the Mapleshade label), one of the best-sounding jazz-vocal records in recent times as well as a balladeer’s strong debut. In the years since, her voice has grown suppler, deeper, more versatile, dynamic, controlled, and adventurous. Her first mentor was the late Shirley Horn, and her biggest strength remains the ballad (she opened Friday’s set with a heartfelt and swinging “Like Someone in Love”). But she has also come under the sway of Abbey Lincoln (her most recent CD, <I>A Spirit Free</I>, is a Lincoln tribute, and a wonder), and so she staggers rhythms, syncopates lines unexpectedly, stretches a phrase, then snaps it back, with a fine feel for the building and release of tension—and she does it all with a purity of pitch and tone that eluded both her teachers (or that they both evaded in any case). Her rhythm section included the wondrous pianist Frank Kimbrough (whose new solo CD, <I>Air</I>, is, as I’ve written here already, one of the year’s best), Dean Johnson on bass, and Tony Mereno on drums. The band is mind-melding tight. Shank sings at the 55 Bar the last Friday of every month.