A Film by Martin Brest (1998)
Music Composed and Conducted by Thomas Newman

Sobre Rui Veloso já tive a oportunidade de ler as opiniões
mais díspares. Lembro-me aqui há alguns anos, num comentário a um post inserido
no blog YéYé do meu amigo Luís Pinheiro de Almeida, de alguém o apelidar, e
cito, «o António Calvário do cavaquismo, assim uma espécie de cantor do
regime!» No polo oposto, quantas vezes a designação de “Pai do Rock Português”
não lhe foi já concedida? É por demais sabido que extremismos nunca levarão
nada a bom porto. E se apenas por maledicência se pode conotar o Rui Veloso com
o nacional-cançonetismo (o que até pode não ser um insulto, pois mesmo dentro
desse género musical existem coisas muito interessantes e de
qualidade), já o cognome de “Pai do Rock Português” só poderá ser atribuído por
ignorância. Como diria o meu amigo José Forte, «Rui Veloso é tanto pai do rock
português como o Elvis Presley é o rei do rock ‘n’ roll». Com o devido
distanciamento, é claro. Aliás, sendo o Rock um tipo de música marginal e
irreverente, nunca lhe consegui vislumbrar “sangue azul” ou atribuir sequer uma
ascendência legítima. Pelo contrário, sempre o vi mais como que um bastardo
filho-da-mãe, fruto acidental de uma noitada de copos e devaneios.
Há quem também tente justificar o êxito do Rui Veloso com as
condições propícias em que ele apareceu. Económicas, sociais e culturais. Não
partilho dessa opinião. É verdade que os tempos têm a sua influência, mas penso
sinceramente que Rui Veloso seria sempre Rui Veloso e que a sua qualidade se
imporia de qualquer modo, independentemente da altura em que aparecesse, contra
ventos e marés e arautos da desgraça. A propósito, vale a pena reler o que
escreveu em tempos o saudoso Daniel Bacelar, um dos pioneiros, no início da década de 60, do Rock
cantado em português (e se o Rui Veloso fosse efectivamente o “Pai do Rock
Português”, o Daniel seria provavelmente o “Avô”): «A minha opinião vale o que vale mas continuo a achar que no
meio de muita coisa má que apareceu no chamado novo Rock dos anos 80, apareceu
muita coisa boa que como de costume desapareceu (as pessoas têm de ganhar a sua
vida por outros lados) e também apareceu o excepcional. Incluo o Rui nesta
última classe, pois acho-o um artista completo (extraordinário guitarrista, uma
voz expressiva e rica, e um compositor cheio de talento). O que lamento é a
nossa capacidade tão portuguesa de destruir aquilo que é bom (a nossa inveja é
uma doença que nos consome até á destruição total que aí vem em passo acelerado
) em vêz de acarinhar e divulgar o que há de bom nesta terra.»
Since her dense, varied, postmodernist eponymous second album illustrated that Sheryl Crow was no one-album wonder, she wasn't left with as much to prove the third time around. Having created an original variation on roots rock with "Sheryl Crow", she was left with the dilemma of how to remain loyal to that sound without repeating herself on her third album, "The Globe Sessions". To her credit, she never plays lazy, not when she's turning out Stonesy rockers ("There Goes the Neighborhood") or when she's covering Dylan (the remarkable "Mississippi," an outtake from "Time Out of Mind"). However, she has decided to abandon the layered, yard-sale production and pop culture fixations that made "Sheryl Crow" a defining album of the mid-'90s. "The Globe Sessions", instead, is the work of a craftswoman, one who knows how to balance introspective songs with pop/rockers, one who knows how to exploit her signature sound while becoming slightly more eclectic. In that sense, the album is a lot like a latter-day album from her idols, the Stones - it finds pleasures within the craft and the signature sounds themselves. That means that there are no surprises (apart from the synthesized handclaps, of course). The Celtic homage "Riverwide" may be new, but it's not unexpected, much like how the whiplash transition in "Am I Getting Through" isn't entirely out of the blue. That's not necessarily a bad thing, though, since "The Globe Sessions" has a strong set of songs. Since it lacks the varied sonics, humor, and flat-out weirdness of "Sheryl Crow", it's never quite as compelling a listen as its predecessor, yet it is a strong record, again confirming Crow's position as one of the best roots rockers of the '90s. (Stephen Erlewine in AllMusic)
For all of the acclaim it received, there's no denying that "No Quarter" was a tentative reunion for Page & Plant, containing only a handful of new songs that were scattered among many reworked old favorites. Since its supporting tour went well, the duo decided to make their reunion permanent, setting to work on an album of entirely new material. Taking the world music dabblings of "No Quarter" as a cue, Page & Plant tempered their eclecticism with a healthy dose of their monolithic guitar army, hiring Steve Albini, the indie rock producer notorious for his harsh, brutal recordings, to helm the boards. In other words, it sounds perfect on paper - groundbreaking veteran artists still taking chances and working with younger collaborators who would challenge them. If only "Walking into Clarksdale" actually played that way. It's certainly possible to hear where the duo was intending to go, since the circular melodies, Mideastern drones, sawing strings, drum loops, and sledgehammer riffs all add up to an effective update and progression of the classic Zeppelin sound. The problem is, the new sound doesn't go anywhere. There's potential in this metallic worldbeat rock, but only a few cuts, such as the stately "Most High" and the shimmering "Shining in the Light," realize it. Much of the album disappears under its own mass, since their are no well-written songs, catchy riffs, or memorable melodies to support the sound. And that's what makes "Walking into Clarksdale" so frustrating - you can hear the potential, and even enjoy the album on the musical surface, but there's nothing to make you return to the album once it's finished. And that ultimately means that the album simply reiterates the promise of the reunited Page & Plant instead of fulfilling it. (Stephen Erlewine in AllMusic)
At first, Lisa Ekdahl's squeaky, girlish voice may seem inappropriate for the pop standards she has chosen to make her trade, but given some time, her voice and laid-back style become endearing. True, she occasionally seems mannered and borrows heavily from her inspirations (most notably Billie Holiday), but she shows signs of developing her own style throughout her second American album, "Back to Earth". Like its predecessor, "When Did You Leave Heaven", "Back to Earth" was recorded with the Peter Nordahl Trio and has a charming mellow vibe. Nordahl has an elegant turn of phrase and his rhythm section - drummer Ronnie Gardiner and bassist Patrik Boman - has a light touch that keeps the focus on Ekdahl. It is true that her voice may strike some listeners as odd, but it's girlish, not thin, which means she can nail the emotions of the songs. There may be a few missteps here and there, but she delivers ballads ("What Is This Thing Called Love?," "The Laziest Gal in Town," "Now or Never") as well as swing ("Down with Love," "I Get a Kick Out of You"). Yes, the selections are a little predictable and Ekdahl is a bit of an acquired taste, but ultimately, "Back to Earth" is quite charming. (Stephen Erlewine in AllMusic)