Best forgotten albums of the '90s
by Seth Rogovoy

(WILLIAMSTOWN, Mass., January 9, 2000) -- Before the last decade is but a faint, wispy memory, it is incumbent upon me to propose some sort of summary of what happened in music over the past 10 years. But rather than tally yet another amid hundreds of lists of the 10 best CDs of the decade, I've decided to take a different path.

What follows is a different kind of list: a look at about two dozen great yet unheralded CDs of the past decade, purposely plucked from obscurity and given one last shining moment in the spotlight. In no particular order, they are:

Leon Parker, "Above and Below" (Epicure): The first sounds one hears on jazz drummer Leon Parker's debut album – the sound of the drummer simply tapping out a beat on his own body -- take on new meaning in light of what was to come. Parker has spent the better part of the decade deconstructing both the role of the drummer and his instrument; for the most part he has forsaken the jazz ensemble and the traditional trap kit in favor of solo body percussion and hand drums. But on his debut, with a lineup including pianist Jacky Terrasson and saxophonist David Sanchez, the young bandleader evinces painterly talent as an arranger, composer and instrumentalist.

Hal Willner/Various Artists, "Weird Nightmare: Meditations on Mingus" (Columbia): Producer Hal Willner gathered an all-star team of avant-garde jazz talent to pay tribute to one of the composing geniuses of the century. Downtown royalty including Bill Frisell, Gary Lucas, Greg Cohen, Marc Ribot, Henry Threadgill, Don Byron, and Geri Allen are joined by adventurous rockers such as Elvis Costello, Robbie Robertson, Leonard Cohen, Dr. John, Keith Richards and Ray Davies, breathing new life into a corpus of multi-layered works by Charles Mingus that have only just begun to be explored to their full potential.

Dave Douglas, "Charms of the Night Sky" (Winter and Winter): Trumpeter/composer Dave Douglas's fusion of chamber jazz and Balkan folk modes suggest nothing less than a "Kind of Blue" for the '90s, or cool jazz for a warming planet.

Cassandra Wilson, "Blue Light 'Til Dawn" (Blue Note): On this album vocalist/composer Cassandra Wilson redefined the art and parameters not just of jazz singing, but of the jazz repertoire. By artfully following the standard-of-all-standards "You Don't Know What Love Is" with bluesman Robert Johnson's "Come On In My Kitchen" with Betty Carter-like abstraction, Wilson simultaneously restored the blues to its rightful place at the heart of the jazz experiment while exposing the bankruptcy of the notion that hails the primacy of a so-called American songbook.

Willie Nelson, "Across the Borderline" (Columbia): It totally defies logic that this Don Was-produced, genre-shattering effort failed to break out as a pop smash. Nelson shared songwriting, vocal and instrumental duties with a stellar cast, including Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, Peter Gabriel, Lyle Lovett, Bonnie Raitt, Sinead O'Connor, John Hiatt, Mose Allison, David Crosby and Kris Kristofferson, on what still stands as a grand achievement of Americana and a tribute to Nelson's interpretive skills as a singer. Along the way he crafted an eloquent statement of the broken promise of American dream.

Finley Quaye, "Maverick a Strike" (550 Music): From a base in Jamaican dub and dancehall music, Finley Quaye put together a gorgeous tapestry of modern soul music, as infectious as 1970s Stevie Wonder and Marvin Gaye but as fresh as yesterday's breakbeats. Everyone for whom I've played this album has rushed out and bought it, and they all now count it among their all-time favorites.

Yo La Tengo, "I Can Hear the Heart Beating As One" (Matador): On their quietest, most intimate album, the Hoboken-based husband-and-wife hipsters crafted a beautiful cycle of organic, post-Velvet Underground love songs amid a blur of electronics, real and implied.

David Byrne, "The Forest" (Luaka Bop/Warner Bros.): Sure, David Byrne's score to Robert Wilson's theater piece is heavily indebted to Wilson's sometime collaborator, Philip Glass. But that doesn't lessen its impact, nor should it take away from the fact that Byrne came up with a moving, dynamic piece of art music as witty, inventive and hypnotic as any of his "pop" music.

Cornershop, "Women's Gotta Have It" (Luaka Bop/Warner Bros.): The predecessor to this Anglo-Indian group's hit album, the utterly worthy, Beck-like "When I Was Born for the 7th Time," shouldn't be overlooked. "Women's Gotta Have It" is far more dense, more enigmatic and more groove-based, but no less provocative in its juxtaposition of Eastern and Western motifs.

Paul Westerberg, "14 Songs" (Sire/Reprise): The great injustice of the '90s was watching so-called punk bands like Nirvana and Pearl Jam (really just '80s metal bands without the fancy hairdos) gain the spotlight just as the greatest American "alternative" rock band, the Replacements, crashed and burned. Paul Westerberg, that group's Lennon and McCartney all wrapped up in one, persevered, however, and released albums at least as good as those of his group – something Lennon and McCartney never did.

And equally memorable and overlooked were:

Joni Mitchell, "Turbulent Indigo" (Reprise); Aimee Mann, "Whatever," (Imago); John Zorn's Masada Chamber Ensembles, "Bar Kokhba," (Tzadik); Richard Thompson, "Rumor and Sigh" (Capitol); Soul Coughing, "Ruby Vroom" (Slash/Warner Bros.); Lou Reed, "Magic and Loss" (Sire/Warner Bros.); Stan Ridgway, "Black Diamond" (Birdcage); The Nields, "Gotta Get Over Greta" (Razor and Tie).

Luscious Jackson, "Natural Ingredients" (Grand Royal); Emmylou Harris, "Wrecking Ball" (Elektra); Donald Fagen, "Kamakiriad" (Reprise); Bob Dylan, "Under the Red Sky" (Columbia); Cliff Eberhardt, "12 Songs of Good and Evil" (Red House); Dan Bern, "Fifty Eggs" (Work); David Bowie, "Earthling" (Virgin).

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[This column originally appeared in the Berkshire Eagle on Jan. 14, 2000. Copyright Seth Rogovoy 2000. All rights reserved.]