CEDAR HILL REFUGEES
Pale Imperfect Diamond
Cedar Hill Records
Every now and again something comes in the mail that absolutely astonishes. Put Past Imperfect Diamond in that category. To be frank, I originally slid this one to the bottom of the review pile when I noted it was a “bluegrass” release. Although I’m heartened by new bands such as Crooked Still, Railroad Earth, and Blue Moose, most bluegrass music is fairly predictable and the last great innovation in the genre—jazz fusion—was three decades ago.
Okay, I’m humbled! Make way for the next wave. This brilliant album is the brainchild of Jack Clift, who was inspired by listening to Uzbek music. He talked over the idea with John Carter Cash (son of Johnny and June) and they assembled Jadoo, an American-Uzbek bluegrass ensemble. No, that’s not a typo! They then enlisted some bluegrass heavyweights such as Ralph Stanley, Marty Stuart, John Cowan, Randy Scruggs, and the Peasall Sisters, got everyone together, and let the music happen. For those of you who don’t know Uzbek music—and that would just about everyone—it’s hard to describe: part Balkan, part Southern Asian, and part Central Asian. But it blends with American bluegrass in surprising ways.
“Whitehouse Blues,” an old-time reflection on the assassination of President McKinley, is shot through (sorry!) with wild cross rhythms and keening strings, and I doubt you’ll even recognize “Sailaway Ladies,” which is (sort of) what you’d get if you mixed the germ of a bluegrass tune with Tuvan-like throat singing. Check out “Keys to the Kingdom” with Ralph Stanley wrenching pathos from his dry-as-dust voice while kettle drums, drones, and a brass section lay down funereal tones. There are weird, wonderful departures throughout, like the radical remake instrumental part to “Wildwood Flower.” For sheer jarring departures there’s a version of “Oh, Bury Me Not” that’s what you’d get if you had the Beijing Opera lay down the soundtrack to a Bollywood film on the streets of San Antonio. Topping off the innovation are some fine new songs from Clift and Cash, including the title track. My only complaint about the project is the inclusion of The Peasall Sisters, but that’s a personal grudge—I simply don’t like their Alvin and the Chipmunks vocal style. This album’s namesake diamond may be imperfect, but it’s a valued gem nonetheless.
To hear Clift and Carter discuss this project, click here. Audio clips play in the background.
Pale Imperfect Diamond
Cedar Hill Records
Every now and again something comes in the mail that absolutely astonishes. Put Past Imperfect Diamond in that category. To be frank, I originally slid this one to the bottom of the review pile when I noted it was a “bluegrass” release. Although I’m heartened by new bands such as Crooked Still, Railroad Earth, and Blue Moose, most bluegrass music is fairly predictable and the last great innovation in the genre—jazz fusion—was three decades ago.
Okay, I’m humbled! Make way for the next wave. This brilliant album is the brainchild of Jack Clift, who was inspired by listening to Uzbek music. He talked over the idea with John Carter Cash (son of Johnny and June) and they assembled Jadoo, an American-Uzbek bluegrass ensemble. No, that’s not a typo! They then enlisted some bluegrass heavyweights such as Ralph Stanley, Marty Stuart, John Cowan, Randy Scruggs, and the Peasall Sisters, got everyone together, and let the music happen. For those of you who don’t know Uzbek music—and that would just about everyone—it’s hard to describe: part Balkan, part Southern Asian, and part Central Asian. But it blends with American bluegrass in surprising ways.
“Whitehouse Blues,” an old-time reflection on the assassination of President McKinley, is shot through (sorry!) with wild cross rhythms and keening strings, and I doubt you’ll even recognize “Sailaway Ladies,” which is (sort of) what you’d get if you mixed the germ of a bluegrass tune with Tuvan-like throat singing. Check out “Keys to the Kingdom” with Ralph Stanley wrenching pathos from his dry-as-dust voice while kettle drums, drones, and a brass section lay down funereal tones. There are weird, wonderful departures throughout, like the radical remake instrumental part to “Wildwood Flower.” For sheer jarring departures there’s a version of “Oh, Bury Me Not” that’s what you’d get if you had the Beijing Opera lay down the soundtrack to a Bollywood film on the streets of San Antonio. Topping off the innovation are some fine new songs from Clift and Cash, including the title track. My only complaint about the project is the inclusion of The Peasall Sisters, but that’s a personal grudge—I simply don’t like their Alvin and the Chipmunks vocal style. This album’s namesake diamond may be imperfect, but it’s a valued gem nonetheless.
To hear Clift and Carter discuss this project, click here. Audio clips play in the background.
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