Review: I Found You! - Caspar Babypants

Chris Ballew's consistently entertaining modernization of old folk tunes (and writing some modern folk tunes of his own) as Caspar Babypants is problematic.

For the reviewer, at least.

Ever since receiving his latest effort I Found You! for at least a couple months now and I've been struggling with how to write about the album.  It's his sixth full-length Caspar Babypants album, and just as every one that's preceded it, it's snappy music, simple but well-constructed -- really, just heaps of fun.

Which makes me a bit sad.

Because, really, if you are a Caspar Babypants fan (as I am), you may already have this album.  And you're probably reading this review a) to confirm your own initial impressions of the album, b) to confirm that yes indeed you should get the album if you don't have it, or c) because you're my mom.  (Just kidding!  I don't think my mom reads my site.)

That doesn't make me sad.  What makes me sad is that if your family hasn't gotten into CB at this point, nothing I could write about this album would likely change your mind.  Chris Ballew writes catchy hooks with the frequency the rest of write grocery lists, and you're not already listening to him?  My pitiful wordsmithing can't change that attitude.

The first tracks here -- the gleeful horn-aided "I Found You," the funky "Just Wondering," the preschool traditional "All the Fish" -- sound like many Babypants classics.  They're instantly catchy and perfectly constructed for preschoolers to grasp and sing along.  That's probably part of my challenge -- unlike a new band with a distinct sound, or an artist changing their musical approach, Ballew doesn't sound that much different here from his first album Here I Am!.  All the components of I Found You! -- the re-imagined folk songs, the obsession with animals and nature, the simple arrangements -- were there from the beginning.  For that reason, while I particularly like the title track and "Just Wondering," some of my favorite pieces are the songs that sound a little different, such as "Say Farewell," treated as a sea shanty, or the fun-spooky "Skeletone."

As with all the Babypants disks, the target age range for this album are kids ages 2 through 6, though it'll certainly have broader appeal than that.  You can find the 50-minute album at the usual kindie suspects.

Despite the occasional navel-gazing in this review, I hope I've also conveyed how excellent I Found You! is.  Just because Chris Ballew's found a groove in recording music as Caspar Babypants doesn't mean that uncreative reviewers such as me should spoil your fun.  Highly recommended.

Review: Rabbit Days and Dumplings - Elena Moon Park & Friends

It would be hard for me to review this album without establishing my affinities up front:

1.  I Kickstarted this album.

2.  Our son (AKA Little Boy Blue) was born in Asia (and adopted into our family as an infant).

3.  Dan Zanes has provided a healthy part of our family soundtrack over the past 10+ years.

4.  I love kimchi.

OK, now that we have that out of the way, is it any surprise that I am very charmed by Rabbit Days and Dumplings, the first album from Elena Moon Park?  (No, it shouldn't be.)  Park, the fiddler and instrumentalist from Dan Zanes' band, has taken music from her own Korean (by way of Tennessee) heritage, mixed it with other Asian family-friendly songs, and given the songs a Zanesian flair.  The result is exactly what you'd expect -- songs from a very different culture made accessible to an English-speaking, Western audience and just as importantly, made fun as well.

There are lots of singalong chorsus on the album, starting with the album opener, "Sol Nal."  Park doesn't attempt to provide lyrics for each song in her liner notes; rather, for many songs, she picks out a single phrase as the hook.  So, for "Sol Nal," it's "Sol Nal / Sol Nal / Sol Nal Un Cho Ah Yo," which she translates as 
"New Year / New Year / I like New Year's."  Or, for the train-inspired bluegrass-y "Diu Diu Deng," singing along with "Diu! Diu!," the sound of raindrops is enough.  Language is fluid in the songs, with Park and the other vocalists flowing in and out of the native tongue of each song and English.

Just as with the lyrics, where Park clearly tried to honor the original song and language but didn't feel like she had to sing every word in that original language, the arrangements have been blended into new, often Western forms.  For example, for the Japanese fishing song "Soran Bushi," Park turns it into a rousing sea shanty, "envisioning groups of men on boats singing it," as she puts it in the liner notes.  ("A Dokkoisho!," or "heave, ho!," could be your family's next motivating call.)  The Chinese song "Diu Shou Juan" is performed in New Orleans brass band style.  And as with every Dan Zanes album, Park has recruited a kajillion different musicians (the Kronos Quartet and Wu Man among them) to play along, often letting them take the lead.

With the (partial) language barrier, age is less of an issue with this album than others, but the subjects are often most appropriate for kids ages 3 through 7.  As you would expect from the folks at Festival Five, the album packaging is first-rate, but regardless of whether you get the physical copy or order mp3s, you can also download full lyrics, translations, and chords at the album's Songs page.  Listen to a sampler of songs here.

I'm clearly biased, but I think Rabbit Days and Dumplings is a great album.  If you're put off by the description of it as folk and children's music from East Asia, I encourage you to give it a chance, as you'll discover a set of songs from that, in these renditions, are very accessible to Western ears, and even voices.  Elena Moon Park have put together a remarkable album here, one that deserves a larger audience than it might otherwise be consigned to.  Highly recommended.

Review: Blue Clouds - Elizabeth Mitchell and You Are My Flower

How to sum up the latest album from Elizabeth Mitchell and You Are My Flower, the dream-soaked Blue Clouds?

I suppose one could start with that adjective, "dream-soaked."  From the song lyrics (the frog and mouse courtship and wedding of "Froggie Went A-Courtin'" or the dogs running around in "Yuki (Snow)") to the album art from renowned author and artist Remy Charlip to the arrangements featuring Mitchell's direct and gentle voice and strings and flute, among others, the entire album seems suffused with sleepy imagery and feelings.

Or perhaps it's with a bullet-point recounting of the high points on the album:

• The total feeling of empathy generated by her cover of Bill Withers' "I Wish You Well."
• The title track (a lullaby written by Mitchell's husband Daniel Littleton), which wraps up the album and is an instant modern classic
• Her version of "Everyone," which recasts Van Morrison's joy-filled song into something akin to a blessing.

I could always compare and contrast with Mitchell's previous work.  It's definitely more varied in scope than Little Seed, her fine Woody Guthrie tribute album from this summer.  For the listeners to Sunny Day who wished that Mitchell front-and-center more often in that album, instead of ceding lead vocals to daughter Storey on some tracks (I was perfectly fine with the shift as I saw what Mitchell was aiming at in being part of the Folkways tradition), they will find the mix more like You Are My Little Bird -- the kids are integrated nicely on the tracks, but it's Mitchell show.

Or I could be very technical about the whole thing: 38 minutes in length, best for ages 3 through 9, more album details here or stream some songs here.  Don't forget the physical packaging, typically Smithsonian-awesome, featuring Charlip's artwork, an introductory essay from author and artist Brian Selznick, and nice liner notes from Mitchell herself.

But instead the word I keep drifting back to is that of family.  Mitchell's immediate family -- her, husband Daniel, daughter Storey -- who have always been at the heart of this whole enterprise and her approach to making a living as a musician in this field.  Her extended family -- Brian Selznick not only writes a generous introduction, but it's dedicated to his friend Remy Charlip and the mother of his goddaughter Storey; her sister-in-law Anna Padgett writes a couple songs on the album.  Her super-extended Folkways family -- Smithsonian heroes Ruth Crawford Seeger and Ella Jenkins inspire tunes.  And my own family, who have been listening to Mitchell's music for more than a decade and have spent many (hundreds of) hours with her music.  Mitchell pulls us all in and, for a moment, makes us feel connected before sending us back into the world to be as generous with others as she has been with us.  Highly recommended.

Review: Lullaby - Justin Roberts

It's been awhile since I've written a review here.  There are a number of reasons for that, most of them entirely unrelated to kids music.

A small reason for my recent lack of reviews, however, is trying to figure out how to write to music without resorting to the same phrases and frames of reference I've been using for so long.  It's hard to do the same thing year-in, year-out without feeling a little drained.  It takes effort to mix it up, to stretch oneself in a new direction.

Which brings us ("Finally!," you say) to Justin Roberts' new album Lullaby.  For the follow-up to his masterful album Jungle Gym, Roberts didn't choose to write another album of perfect pop and power-pop songs (for that, we'll have to wait until 2013).  Instead, kindie's finest songwriter stretched in a slightly different direction, writing an entire album of, well, if not exactly lullabies, then at least songs for downtime.

Roberts isn't a stranger to slow songs, of course -- songs like "Dad Caught Stars" and "Song for You" are among his best work -- but they typically serve as the dessert, not the main course as they are here.  So instead of songs about bullies or baseball, Roberts has crafted a late-night album of love songs.

Of course, that's what a lot of lullabies are, an attempt to soothe the troubled child (or adult) with a pleasant melody and words that offer comfort and the reassurance of a watching and loving eye.  And some of the best lullaby albums are those that repurpose "adult" song and reframe them as songs of love from parent to child.

Most songs here, stripped of their origin in a "kids music" album, would sound just as appropriate in a mellow, "adult music" album.  Only "A Wild One," which sounds like a lost Van Morrison track, might draw a few odd looks from listeners were it mixed in with other non-kids-music tracks.  The track itself is dedicated "for Maurice," who, based on the lyrics regarding a boy reading books before bedtime, is clearly Maurice Sendak.  It's as close to an anti-lullaby this lullaby album gets.

Key to the feelings of warmth engendered by the album are the musical styles and arrangements.  The Latin samba of "What the Stork Sent," the '70s singer-songwriter folk of "Nothing on You," the string quartet on "Heart of Gold" -- Roberts is using a more muted palette, but appropriately so.  Roberts wrote the arrangements for the album with help from producer Liam Davis, who again creates an overall soundscape that serves Roberts' songs well.

Because this is a lullaby album, I am obligated by the terms and conditions of being a kids music reviewer to state that the 38-minute album is targeted at kids ages 0 through 5, but like many of the best "non-traditional" lullaby albums, its practical age range is much broader.  The album packaging, featuring paintings by Alison Jay, is, like the album itself, elegantly (but not fussily) understated, but I don't think you're missing out if you choose to get the album on mp3.

When I was in college, I would joke that they handed out copies of James Taylor's Greatest Hits album and Van Morrison's Moondance at freshman orientation, so prevalent were they in dorm rooms and apartments.  I still get some warm, fuzzy feelings when I occasionally pull them out.  Lullaby gives me those same sort of feelings, and I can see it unironically being part of parents' non-kids-time listening rotation.  I expect the album to be part of many families' relaxed afternoons, evenings, and late-night feedings.  Different tempo, same great songs.  Highly recommended.

Review: Mr. Diddie Wah Diddie - Randy Kaplan

I will admit that when I first heard about Mr. Diddie Wah Diddie, the latest album from Los Angeles-based (usually) Randy Kaplan, I was somewhat skeptical.  There was so much that could have gone wrong with this project - a troubadour recasting famous blues songs into kid-friendly complaints. ("Randy-ized," it was called.) And with a centuries old blues man offering sandpapery-voiced commentary? Oh, so much could have gone wrong.

But I was willing to give it a shot because Kaplan is one of kids music's top storytellers with significant depth in musical sources of inspiration, and I figured that if anyone could make these re-done stories worth listening to, it would be he.

Luckily, I was proven correct.

OK, I can't say that I found the overarching narrative conceit -- the century-plus-year-old bluesman "Lightnin' Bodkins" introduces many of the songs and tries to find Kaplan his own "blues name" -- very interesting.  In fact, when I listened to the album, I pretty much always skipped forward to the next track.  Parents in control of the car's CD player or the iPod may do the same.

But that's only because the songs in between those interstitials are so much more interesting.  Yes, the songs are "Randy-ized," which ironically means they've tamed down, not made more inappropriate.  So "Timeout Blues," which turns the classic chorus "In the Jailhouse Now" into "In the Timeout Now," is all about a rabble-rousing kid.  Kaplan is one of the top 2 or 3 kids music storytellers working today, and like other talented storytellers, he draws from a deep well of pint-sized frustration and pique.  And what better channel for expressing frustration and pique than the blues, such as in "Ice Cream Man Rag," which bemoans an ice cream truck that never stops at the narrator's house.  There are other more straight-ahead songs whose double-entendres (if Kaplan cracked a knowing smile while encouraging kids to shake their things -- eggshakers -- in "Shake Your Thing," I couldn't hear it).  And near the end of the album, more pensive songs like "Move to Kansas City" don't really sound jokey or silly at all, with songs like "Way Down in Arkansas" and "So Different Blues" remarkably tender and sweet.

Kids ages 3 through 8 will most appreciate the album, which is available at all the usual suspects (and on Spotify as well).  I'd also highlight the understated musical accompaniment, most notably the gentle finger-picking guitar work of Kaplan (assisted by his producer Mike West).

Yes, Mr. Diddie Wah Diddie has its origins in a somewhat jokey concept, but the final result transcends that limitation.  Ignore Lightnin' Bodkins, ignore the idea that your kids might get a basic education in the forefathers of the blues (unlikely), and just enjoy with your kids a solid collection of bluesy stories from one of the best storytellers around.  Definitely recommended.

Disclosure: I was given a copy of the album for possible review.

Review: Spicy Kid - Lunch Money

One of the weird upshots of the rewiring of the relationship between musicians and cultural curators is that they're often friends.  Sure, they could have always been friends in the real-world sense of things, but with the advent of Facebook, the number of "friends" available has increased exponentially.  The cultural curator breed of "critic" is dying rapidly while "blogger" (for lack of a better term) has displaced the critic at the top of the music food tree, and while I'm not sure that critics were ever more "objective" than bloggers, my perception is that bloggers are more advocates for music they favor.  This unsurprisingly leads to more friendship-based exchanges online.  And, for someone raised in the world of the "critic" and who got into this music-writing business a decade ago in part because there seemed to be few critical distinctions when it came to kids music, it definitely feels different.

Which brings us to Spicy Kid, the fourth album from South Carolina band Lunch Money.  The band is led by singer and guitarist Molly Ledford, who writes indie-rock melodies and arrangements circia 1992 in a voice that would be called wry if she didn't find it so hard to hide her general amusement and wonder.  Ledford and the band are billing this as their album about parenthood, and that's what prompted my discursion above.

You see, Molly is a "friend" of mine on Facebook (along with 300 other kids'-music-related people).  If you're not a friend of her, you might hear a song like "S.P.E.L.L.," about the well-known parental tactic to hide information and think she's giving her kids too much credit ("When you s-p-e-l-l in front of me / You're calling attention to the words / You're putting me on alert / It's either bad news or dessert").  But Ledford has posted too many status updates indicating that her kids are sharp cookies (and spicy kids) that unless she's the James Frey of autobiographical kindie rock, these are very much inspired by real life.  And that true life dimension lends the songs additional resonance above and beyond the plain text of the lyrics.

What I find remarkable about the album is that she hits the topics of parenthood in a way that honors both the parents' and kids' perspectives.  The album's title track celebrates spicy kids without denying the feeling of frustration such kids can produce in their parents.  "Awake" is nominally about a child sneaking down the hallway to see if her mom is awake, but it also works from the perspective of a parent sneaking down the hallway to see if his son's awake.  And while there are songs that are as strong expressions of a parent's love for a child as you'll hear this year (see: "Translator," which is pitch-perfect), it's the empathy of both perspectives that helps it avoid mawkishness.  It's like the album is from everybody's favorite Aunt Molly.  Which isn't to diminish the role of her band (which now officially number four in total as the former trio has added Russell Ramirez on trombone), who give Molly's words room to breathe, except when they need to rock out.  Just that it's Aunt Molly's house.

The album will be most appropriate for kids ages 3 through 7.  You can hear the album on the band's music page.  Also, as usual, I love the design and layout of the band's album packaging, courtesy of Ledford's husband and bandmate, Jay Barry.

If Spicy Kid works in a slightly minor key, less a celebration of parenthood than a diary, that doesn't mean it's less joyful than any of its predecessors, and fans (or fans-to-be) of those predecessors should be every bit as enamored of this new album.  As for me, I'll hope that Ledford one day writes the book (non-fiction or otherwise) that chronicles life as a parent (or a kid) that's so obviously somewhere inside her waiting to be written.  Consider it advice from a friend, Molly.  Highly recommended.

Note: I received a copy of this album for possible review.